#thick bucky

[i-like-superheros]

Imagine if he was allowed to sass people as the Winter Soldier. It’d be so funny.

[justarandomgirly]

[pinupbuck]

thinking about how thick bucky was in CACW which means he must’ve had a little bit of tummy pudge which means steve MUST’VE GIVEN HIM A LITTLE SQUEEZE AND KISSED HIM ALL OVER AND ASKED IF HIS BABY WAS EATING GOOD NOW THAT HES FREE FROM HYDRA AND BUCKY RESPONDS WITH A SOFT “Plums!” AND LAUGHS BC STEVES KISSES TICKLE—

(also thinking about bucky wearing a shirt that’s a bit too small for him so when he lifts his arms it exposes his skin and every time that happens steve goes feral)

[fandomfluffandfuck]

*whispers* you've said in passing that you're chill with feeding stuff & just finished Heavyweight Heart 🙃😳🥴🥴🥴 ~so~ I give thee: thicc Buck rp-ing being insecure even though Steve KNOWS he isn't. Wearing a shirt by the pool all day until /oops/ he gets some water on himself & he's wearing white... Steve can't keep his hands off him then 🥵 (p.s. maybe some biting?? Loves his fluffy sides & they're great for marking up) thankss 😊

ANON YOU AND I SHARE A BRAIN CELL I SWEAR TO GOD I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT SOFT BUCKY

SOFT BUCKY WET T-SHIRT -ING HIMSELF??

I'M OBSESSED!

*you didn't specify if you were looking for omegaverse or not so I didn't go with it because it didn't sound like this idea would really fit with the world of HWH. In that fic, unfortunately, I think that Bucky would be truly insecure. Not pretending to rile Steve up

Heavyweight Heart on AO3

Steve and Bucky are having a day out in the sun, by the pool.

Bucky in shorts that fall only halfway down his thighs, a nice baby blue pair that Steve bought him, saying they reminded him of his eyes, and a white shirt. His pretty, sun bleached, long hair tied loosely up in a high top knot. Big sunnies on his face. Steve's just in a fucking speedo. Red. A red hot speedo, looking like a sports cover magazine brought to life as he jokes that he's wearing it simply because he's trying to get somewhat tan, making the most of the late summer sunshine. His beard still present but kept cleaner and shorter for the summer. His hair slicked back from jumping in and out of the pool.

Bucky is trying to make the most of the time he's got with Steve because this Steve is a real workaholic with a Healthy paying job, easily enough to support a big family all on his own paycheck, and he rarely gets him all to himself without the impending threat of work cropping up at any time. This Bucky, like all Buckys, loves Steve. And Steve gives him more than he could ask for a hell of a lot of the time. But he's a very busy guy. And Bucky knows part (okay, parts) of him is greedy.

Part of his attention grabbing ploy is the shirt he's got on.

Ironical because you'd think to get Steve's attention even more than normal he'd have to take off his clothes. Like Steve has. All of his mile long legs, abs, and broad shoulders out for everyone to see (except not really- their backyard is spacious and private). But no. This Bucky is a Confident Motherfucker. He knows he's thicker and bigger, curvy and soft. And he knows his husband gags for it. He knows, intimately knows, that Steve would never want him to change. He knows because whenever they're alone, or rather, whenever it's appropriate, even if they aren't alone, his big hands are all over him. Grabbing and squeezing and kneading. Getting handfuls of him and going fucking feral for it. Especially if he can grab handfuls while Bucky is riding, gasping on, his cock. His ass. His thighs. His tits. Any part of him he can reach, Steve will get in his hands.

Bucky may be greedy for his attention and time, but Steve is greedy for how he feels. How he feels under his hands. How he feels under his mouth. How he feels inside.

So, yeah, he's got a shirt on. Not because he's insecure. But because he knows that its driving Steve crazy. The man may have the goddamn best memory of anyone Bucky has ever met, may be able to picture the shape of his body on the backs of his eyelids, but he wants to see it.

His fingers keep finding the hem of his shirt (the only one he could find thats not tight to add to the teasing), trying to lift it up with innocent puppy dog eyes as he licks his lips, not so innocent. Bucky keeps telling him no, batting his hands away, saying he'd rather keep his shirt on. He's more comfortable with it.

Steve gives him a look the first time he says it like he's about to launch into one hell of a you're-the-most-beautiful-thing-i've-ever-seen lecture. And so Bucky distracts him. Kissing him to shut him up. Running his fingertips over all the exposed, sun-hot skin he's got on display. The second and third times he gives him a look but doesn't push, eyes reading, instead, of suspicion. Saying that he knows he's playing a game.

And a game Bucky can give him.

Pushing away his hands whenever they come up to his waist and sides, fluffy from his weight, knowing damn well that Steve can't resist grabbing him there. Squeezing him. It's one of his favorite things. Well... a lot of him is Steve's "favorite". His thighs and how thick, full, and strong they are. His belly; plump. His round chest and soft, soft, sensitive nipples. Even the patch of softness under his jaw, where Steve's perfect, white teeth often nip. Not just that though, Bucky keeps playing with him by keeping his distance a little, stepping back after delivering his man a beer rather than settling heavily in his lap. Playing with him by letting his hair down, undoing it and shaking it out only when he knows he's looking. Later too, when he's staring at his glistening, wet body as he swims. Not joining him like normal. Just looking as he makes laps in and diving into the pool, enjoying himself and making him laugh from afar. While Bucky himself lounges out on a reclining chair under an umbrella. Staring with dark eyes from the shade. Eyes magnetized right to the obscene way the water sucks the fabric of his speedo even tighter against his body after swimming, the way his chest flexes and bulges when he pulls himself up out of the pool. Only sweetly smiling and squealing, "you're all wet, Steve! No!" when he comes over, purring, "what'cha lookin' at, darlin'?" Brooklyn drawl peaking out as he gets tipsy and full up on sunshine. Bucky tries to keep the game up but...

Some of the water dripping off of Steve drips right over his nipples as he reaches out, removing his sunglasses to look right into his eyes.

He watches, in slow motion, as Steve's eyes drop to his chest; nipples highlighted through his now transparent shirt, pink and round. Peaked from their afternoon of tension. Watching in slow motion as the nearly fully naked blonde bites his full lower lip. Hunger growing infinitely in his eyes, in his body language, even though Bucky already thought he was being obvious... this is more obvious. Steve - unable to hide or resist anymore - pulls him up, biceps flexing distractingly, and tries to pull him in the pool, grinning, almost looking unhinged in his dirty glee, "c'mon, honey, you're already wet. You might as well take a dip with me."

Bucky grins, shaking his head and pushing Steve back into the pool playfully before he can tug him in on top of him. He ends up howling with laughter as Steve falls back with an undignified squawk. Nothing that screams professional, high-paid, A or B list business celeb.

But Bucky doesn't get the last laugh.

Steve's fall into the water leaves Bucky dripping wet with his splash. Bucky is a big guy, thick and curvy, but Steve is a big guy because he's built like a tank. All muscle. It's a wave of water.

A wave that leaves his white shirt clinging, transparently, to his every curve.

Steve resurfaces and looks up and up at him. Swimming forward to wrap a wet hand around his ankle, purring, "fuck sweetheart, this your game, huh? Been teasin' me all day. You trynna get me desperate? Trynna drive me crazy? Huh?"

Bucky can't make his lips move. Heat rushes to his cheeks. He's not even pissed about not thinking ahead and ruining his own plans. The heat isn't frustration or sunburn or embarrassment- it's want. Now that Steve has spelled out what he's been doing, he wants to say fuck it and fuck me.

"Yeah, yeah thats it, isn't it? My baby trynna hide away from me, knowin' how much I love seeing you?"

"Maybe..." he exhales.

"Fuck that noise, baby. Take that shirt off, 's not like its doing you any good anymore. Can see your tits and belly right through it."

Bucky flushes harder. Whimpering and peeling the shirt off.

"C'mere-" Steve growls, eyes dark and heavy. Trained on his every move.

"Where?" He says, soft. Melting under him now that he's made himself go so long without it.

"Sit." He pats the edge of the pool in front of him, the sun catching the gold of his wedding band, tapping noisily on the concrete.

Bucky sits, feet in the water, thick thighs spreading out on the ground, looking irresistibly thicker, and spreading his thighs for Steve's shoulders. His cock is tenting his swim shorts obscenely, breath heavy like the pool of heat in his gut.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls down his shorts and flings them somewhere else. All while looking hungrily at him. Bucky is beginning to think he made a mistake, a good mistake, teasing his husband like that. Especially when he throws his legs over his shoulders brazenly, as if he's not just made it look like he's going to eat him. Bucky gasps, his cock hitting his tummy with a slap as he's stripped naked. "Steve!" His heart is pounding, he knows they're house is private but they're still outside. Outside where anyone could see him. Them.

Despite that, his cock throbbing from the teasing.

"Forward," Steve growls, fingers digging into any part of him he can reach.

Bucky does. Pliant now. Head reeling with how Steve has him positioned perfect, ass over the edge of the pool, bare, prone and propped up on his elbows. Exposed.

Steve, flicks his eyes up at him one last time before lowering his head, burying himself between his thighs. Starting by mouthing hotly at his cock. "NGH-!" Bucky moans, instinctively going to grab for Steve's hair. Except. The concrete under him is not forgiving like a mattress is. So he needs both arms for it to be comfortable. He whimpers in complaint because Steve keeps going. Kissing. Licking. Mouthing at him.

It doesn't last long enough for him to get close.

Its there and then gone and instead, instead-

Steve is biting him. Nipping and biting at his flesh, catching the plushness of his inner thighs, the curve of his hip, the swell of his belly. Everything but his cock and his hole. Kissing and biting and sucking marks into him.

Its so much. So overwhelming. So much and not enough.

Bucky shifts on his elbows, whining and swearing. Inching closer and closer to the edge but not close enough go come.

"Steve!" He cries, helpless.

"Hmm-?" He smirks, nuzzling the crease in his thigh.

"Steve-"

"What, honey?"

"I, I. You-" Steve's mouth goes lower, nipping his ass cheek, getting his bearded chin wet to do it. Bucky interrupts himself to moan, muscles trembling. "Ah, Jesus, Steve-" he keens when his tongue trails lower, swiping over his hole. Pleasure rumbles through him. "Fuck!"

"What?" He rubs his course facial hair over him, playing dumb.

Bucky pants noisily, whining and squeezing his soft thighs tight around his face, "please-!"

"Please? Please? Oh, you're begging me, Buck?"

"Yes!" He takes the bate. "Yeah, yes. Please! Please, Steve, don't tease-"

Steve sucks hard on his inner thigh, sending stinging pain up his spine, to his brain. Electric. "Don't. Tease?" He growls. Low enough to feel in his fucking bones. In the tension, tight and desperate, deep inside his thrumming, throbbing body. "Don't tease? Buck-" he scoffs, pausing to snort then suck a quick, mind melting, sloppy kiss to the side of his rock hard shaft, "if you didn't want me to tease, you shouldn't've teased me. Hiding away. You know I can't stand not seein' you, you're so fucking sexy, baby. God. Love this body-" he bites at his side until Bucky lets his head hang back with a gritty moan. "Love you."

"Love you too, you- you bastard." Bucky grits, panting. Desperate for release. Cock aching.

"Mouthy," Steve laughs, messily kissing his hole again and again until he can't not keen. Shaking. But he stops until he levels out again to not enough agony. Whimpering as he smirks, sinks his teeth into his inner thigh, once again, and then threatening, "be careful what you say when I'm in control of your orgasms, honey. Might tease you and not let you cum if you don't behave..."

Thank you for the ask!!

[giftedyoungster3000]

Even Amazon simps for thick Bucky

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter One

A/N: Okay so I’ve literally had this in my drafts for the last...six months or so? And I figured I’d tweak it and edit and post it since I’ve been so AWOL on this site lately, and so that I can give you guys some new content from me.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy cursing. This chapter is pretty PG, talks of mental illness, unexpected pregnancy and contemplating abortion- but she doesnt go through with it. Smut to come. AND LOTS OF FLUFF TOO, I promise lol

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story 

Chapter 1/6: The Baby Woe’s and Oh No’s

You knew it.

You’d known something was off, different, changed.

You sit on your toilet, your world spinning as you attempt to wrap your mind around what was going on. Everything seems sludge like, too slow and too fast and not real.

You’re definitely going into shock, you point out to yourself. The catatonic kind. You’ve been staring at the bright, sunny lemon print of the shower curtain, your eyes focused but not seeing. Your elbows rest on your knees and your hands cover the entirety of your lower face.

At least you’re not crying anymore. 

Nope, your body had moved past that-Maybe, it felt like the tears could start rolling again at anytime.

Oh god, what are you going to do?

Why, why, why?

Why you? You’d been a good person- well a decent person at least… You recycled and tipped more than twenty percent. Didnt vote for Trump and ate your vegetables.

And your life was just seeming to even out. You’d somehow landed your dream job a couple months back- every Wednesday night your voice could be heard on WNEX. You we’re making enough money to finally be comfortable- doing what you loved. Gaining a wide audience and wiggling your way into the industry. Your mind was so career oriented, so focused on your end goal that you’d never even considered something like this.

Throwing a big fat wrench in the gears.

One night, it had only been one stupid, drunken night. Hadn't you racked up enough karma coins to cover your ass for one fucking night?

Are you there god? It’s me, Y/N, and I really fucked up this time.

Wanda comes back into the tiled room a few minutes, her dark features soft and a colorful mug in her hand.

“Are you okay?” She gauges, gently, as she reaches out to you.

You snort and shrug, but accept the steaming cup from her anyway. You look down at the swirling, murky drink.

Wishing for just one moment that you could drown yourself in it.

“Look, babe, I know you’re dealing with some major shock right now- but maybe you should go lay down. We’ll figure it out later-” Wanda’s voice is even and you appreciate her being so calm and sure during all of this but you just can't process the situation enough to accept it.

You can't go lay down.

“Why not?” Wanda questions and you didn't realize you’d said that out loud, you hadn't even felt your mouth form the words.

Your head really is swimming. Disconnected from your body a little bit. You force yourself to take a drink of the tea as she gives you a more pointed look.

“Because I have to- I don't know. I have to figure all this out” You protest. You can't hear your voice, how spiked with anxiousness it is.

“There’s not much to figure out” Wanda supplies, unhelpfully as she leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest and you give her a look that’s half between a glare and a gape.

“Um, what the fuck do you mean? There’s so much to figure out, I don't even know where to start” You give a short, sharp, slightly hysterical laugh gripping the mug hard enough to hurt with one hand while cupping your forehead with the other.

“Okay, first things first. And this is the big one: do you want this?”

Well, that whole ‘I'm done crying’ thought you’d had before was a lie. You feel the tears well up once more and overflow, spill down your already swollen cheeks. Your face is hot. Your tummy is full of rocks.

You’d always hated crying. It never made you feel released or freed or lighter like it did for other people. It made you feel icky and stupid. And afterwards it always felt like you’d gotten punched in the nose.

Yes, you did have a therapist to work out those issues with, thanks.

Your mind doesn't know what to do with that question.

You look at Wanda, searching her face as though she might have the answers but she just shook her head and reached out her hand to rub your shoulder. That’s all she could offer. Her support in whatever path you we’re about to embark on.

And then you look down, at the countertop. That was usually littered with stray tubes of mascara or straightening irons. Bobby pins and half lit candles. All the things that resided in the bathrooms of girls in their mid twenties.

In place of those was now four pregnancy tests. All of which read positive.

The first two had been those double lined ones. Two bold lines- both times. Then you’d ran down to the bodega at the end of the block and gotten two more. And those we’re more straight to the point. They literally read the word pregnant- in a font that you don't think you’d ever forget.

Did you want this? Did you want a baby?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I dont know- I’m not ready. The timing is all wrong” You croak.

“Okay” Wanda coo’s “well there's alternatives then-” you squeeze your eyes closed at that thought “Either way we should make a doctors appointment to make sure you’re actually pregnant. I’ve read so many stories about how unreliable these things are”

She holds up one of the tests and rambles on about all of the online articles she’d come across. How some woman had taken a dozen of ‘em, gotten all positive results and then went in and had an empty uterus.

“For one, ew. I peed on that” You nod your head at the test in her hand and she rolls her eyes.

“Other side of it- and I held your hair when you got food poisoning from that shrimp shack. I’ve come into contact with worse body fluids of yours”

“For two- I’m pregnant. I know it. I’ve known it for weeks. I knew something was wrong and I just tried to...think it away, you know? Out of sight, out of mind? I sound insane” saying the words out loud makes you realize how...ludicrous those thoughts had been. But still. It was the truth.

She just nods though “You don't”

There’s a moment of silence. Stretching, as you stew in your reality.

“I’d be doing it alone” you whisper into the mug as you sip on it “I really dont think he’d want a baby”

“You would never be alone, you know that. You have so many people in your life that would support you with this” Wanda protests, sad that you’d even say that.

“You know what I mean” You push on. Because having a good group of friends and family wouldn't change the fact that you were possibly looking at the possibility of being a single mother.

If you decided to keep it, that is.

“Yeah I do- and I don't know if I agree with that. Bucky's a lot of things, an arrogant asshole at that top of that list, but he’s a good guy and I think he’d want to be involved. He doesn't give off deadbeat dad vibes”

All of that was true. Bucky is a good guy, at the core of him.

He was kind and decent and the two of you had been friends for years upon years. He was charming, magnetic and women loved him- you’d found it amusing, before you we’re the one in his bed after a drunken night a month ago.

He’d left your messages mostly on seen since then. You’d only sent a few, but still that had stung. Him icing you out the moment he’d gotten into your pants pissed you off, not only because it was rude but because it was expected.

You knew how Bucky was with women, it had been such an idiot move to sleep with him.

It made it all the more complicated that you ran in the same social circles- had all the same friends. Sam’s small promotion dinner a couple weeks ago had been extremely awkward for you, to say the least.

He’d earned himself the cold shoulder from you and no matter how many times he’d try to broach a conversation with you, crack a joke in your direction, or single you out in a group conversation you pretended he didn't exist.

“Damn, re-jec-ted” It had been so obvious that Clint had of course pointed it out, which was uncomfortable but expected because Clint had no filter like that.

Bucky had stopped trying after that- and started flirting back with the waitress that had been throwing herself at him throughout the night. You cut out early, claiming tiredness. And upset stomach. Whatever to get you out of there.

To say it was a shitty night was a bit of an understatement and you hadn't spoken one word to him since.

“I haven't talked to him since that night- and now I’m what, supposed to call him up and tell him I’m carrying his child because he doesn't properly know how to operate a condom?

“I don't know, yeah? It doesn't mean you two need to get married, but if you choose to keep this baby, that’s going to be a conversation you’re going to have to have” Wanda is so annoying sometimes. She was such a sharp thinking human- always grounded and level headed. She claimed it was from always having to be the “good twin” growing up.

Of course she was rationalizing this whole thing while you we’re floundering about it like a fish.

“I think I should make a doctors appointment” You just mutter. You’d rather focus your attention there. It was easier, cleaner for you. A goal you could actually accomplish.

And so that’s what you did.

//////

They were able to get you in at the end of the week, which in overpopulated New York City was a godsend. And still, it felt like far too long. Like the reality of it couldn't sink in until you talked to a medical professional so you we’re left in some kind of fucked up long until then.

You tried to keep your anxious mind busy, throwing yourself into work. Talking to people over the static airways of the radio about their lives; about the world and all of its workings was so much easier than talking to anyone about what was going on with you.

The only person who knew was Wanda and you’d canceled all of your other plans during the week, not able to face anyone. Not yet.

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. Thinking until your brain physically hurt.

And then you’d turned to you journal- maybe if you wrote everything down it would make sense. If you could see it all, inked out, you could make a decision.

Did you want this child?

Wanda had suggested making a pro’s and con’s list and while it sounded crazy and unhelpful, and you rolled your eyes at it ‘As though that will help’, you ended up doing it anyways.

You start with Cons, naturally. Always had been too damn negative.

Cons:

-I have no fucking idea how to be a mom

-Bucky???

-My job. My career. Who’s going to watch the baby while I work?

-How in the fuck am I going to financially support a baby.

-No room in the apartment/My room is fucking tiny and where will we put a baby

(Wanda said we can turn half of the living room into a playroom/makeshift nursery. How fucked up though? Not even a real nursery)

-No car? A baby on the subway? No thank you.

-Weird to explain to people even if Bucky wants to co-parent. All our friends??

-PAIN

-Pregnancy looks so painful. Birth looks scary. My poor vagine.

-Life is basically over

-The baby will not have a grandmother from your side...

You could keep going on, but you decide to stop there. You could go on, make the list pages and pages long but you decide against it.

Pros:

-I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Always dreamed of babies and motherhood, baby fever crashes over me in waves.

-Me and Bucky’s baby is going to be cute AF(and that just pure facts)

-I have a great support system- amazing friends and family who I know will help

-Bucky could want to be involved. He probably will...maybe?

-He has a big family, i think. The baby would have lots of family

-I don't want to have an abortion. All about pro-choice, but I just...don't know if I can.

That had made you bite the end of your pen.

Adoption?

Could you give a child that you went through nine months of pregnancy up for adoption? Knowing yourself- probably not. You cant even get rid of the moth hole ridden clothes at the back of your closet. Not comparing a baby to a jean jacket- fuck, see how unequipped you were for this?

-I’d be a good mom(I think)

-I could swing it financially. Maybe get a second job

-At least I have a good insurance plan now

-My life might have more of a purpose?

You hide the lists away in one of your many journals. Stick it in the wicker basket under your night stand- and revisit it too many times in those days between.

You make a lot of other lists in that time, too. 

//////

One of them sits tucked in your purse as you make your way to the eighth floor- Arms folded across your chest and the inside of your bottom lip speared between your teeth as the elevator takes you up.

Wanda stands beside you, of course. Sipping on her iced americano. You’d tried to tell her that she didn't need to come, that you were perfectly okay with going on your own. You’d gotten about two words out before she shut you down-

“I already took the afternoon off, don't be ridiculous”

You both know you wouldn't admit it, stubborn as you we’re, but you’d let out a big sigh of relief. You really didn't want to do this alone.

The waiting room is standard for this building, looks similar to the one that you sit in when you see your GP- save for a sign hanging about the door that labels it the OB-GYN.

Fake plants and those standard waiting room chairs that had that weird diagonal print on them TV’s that we’re playing the local news and tables stacked with months dated magazines. There was no windows though and it made the back of your neck feel hot.

The receptionists is nice. Middle aged with mild with droning, mellow voice. She checks you in fast and efficiently and tells you that you’ve got about a 15 minute wait on your hands.

Annoying, you think even though you give her a big grin and a sweet ‘thank you’. You’d been right on time. Why in all offices of all kinds is there always a fucking wait?

Wanda has plopped down on a chair in the corner and is fingering through an issue of LIFE, her long legs crossed at the knee. you sit next to her. The office air conditioner is blasting, it had been a muggy May in the city, but you feel overheated. You let the chunky cardigan you’d donned slip down one shoulder, exposing your skin to the chilly air.

You should feel the cold but you’re over heated. Nervous as hell. Why doesnt anyone else in this office seem nervous?

You tend to people watch when you get overly anxious like you are now. Tend to take in every little detail of every little thing around you.

There’s a black couple- the woman doesn't look pregnant but they’re holding hands tightly and they keep whispering to each other. He smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. Then there’s a Latina woman who looks just about ready to pop and is reading one of the kids book to a little boy with her eyes. A white lady, with twin carriers rocks them gently as she chats with a woman who looked to be related to her, maybe. Older and graying.

You feel like a creep but you can't stop looking at them all. Staring at each of the people who are at different stages of the same  life-path you found yourself on.

Wanda clicks her tongue as her dark eyes focus on the magazine. Muttering, her accent thick, about how the lenses they used for the shoot on the page was all wrong.

Her photographers eye was snobby and elitist.

“Y/N?” The nurse calls you back, not butchering your name which is nice and look over at your best friend.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you?” Wanda whispers, big gingerbread eyes searching yours and you shake your head quickly.

You had to do this, on your own. What if...what if you ended up having to do this whole thing alone? You had to be grown, had to face this solo. That’s just how you felt, even if it might not be true.

“It’s just another appointment- I can do it on my own. I’ll live” there's a reasoning lilt in your voice that she doesn't quite buy but she nods all the same. Tells you that she’ll be waiting right there for you as you muster up all your courage and train your face into a smile, following the nurse into the back offices, the door mechanically closing behind the two of you.

The OB’s office is...warmer then you’d thought it would be. Her desk has frames of all types and her walls are plastered with colorful posters, making the alabaster of the wallpaper less daunting. There was even a window in here.

You’re perched up on the exam table/ chair thingy, staring out at the tall buildings across the street, at the people moving fast below on the sidewalks. You wonder what all of them are doing? How many of the have kids?...

When there’s a soft knock at the door your attention snaps back to the present.

Doctor Helen Cho is a petite Asian woman. She has glossy dark hair that's tied up in a clip high on the  back of her head, and her voice is friendly and her expression open as introduces herself to you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, too” You sound so much surer and more confident then you feel. It had always been your party trick- meeting new people and being able to talk to them. Leaving trails of barley there acquaintances in your wake.

“So it says here that you think you’re pregnant, yes?” She gets right to it, and your appreciative for it.

“Yeah, I know I am.  I took four tests and they all came out positive and I...I feel really off” you try to explain it, poorly but she seems to understand.

“When you say off, do you mean like bad feeling off or?” She probes as she sits at her desk, swivels her chair to face you. Her chocolate almond eyes weren't piercing or clinical, just waiting.

“Not really bad? But I’ve just been so tired lately and I’ve had like, zero appetite. And my breasts have been so sensitive that it hurts to put on a bra” as you tell here these things you could slap your head for not assuming you were pregnant before you’d taken the tests.

Dr. Cho hums and nods as she looks over her tablet “Well from the look of these results from those blood and urine tests your nurse went ahead and gave you when you came in, I can tell you that you are definitely about nine weeks pregnant- so those symptoms are right on with where you are”

You inhale and exhale, bigly. It’s real. It’s been real, was a notion, a happening but now...it’s so freaking real.

And there's a real life changing decision to be made-

That you’d already made before you’d even walked into this office but now seemed even clearer. Crystal, in that moment of clarity.

“I want to keep it” Your confident as you say it. Your voice cracks with some kind of emotion you couldn't even begin to explain, but you’re confident. You’re sure.

Dr. Cho grins at you, and stands, congratulating you then, after she’s sure you even want a congratulations. You like her, think you might.

It’s hard to focus on her voice though because all your mind can think of is the next big obstacle, the next big step in all of this.

How were you going to tell Bucky?

Okay guys? I posted? Crazy right? lol give me some feedback! Comment and tell me what you thought of this. I absolutely love interacting with you guys, but I’m sure ya’ll know that. 

Also- the taglist for this story is still OPEN, so if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters just ask!

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @brieannakeogh @gifsbysimplysonia @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si 

[gifsbysimplysonia]

As always, thanks be to @whimsicalrogers for making my screens swoon worthy!

[ready2comply]

Just because thick Bucky is the best Bucky