about the author: vega - 25 - sagittarius - enfp-t
I write for: top gun maverick, triple frontier, star wars, criminal minds, outer banks, bucky barnes
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Okay, so….I don’t think your “signs of AI” are as foolproof as you think they are, beloved. I use em dashes all the time in my writing. It makes it look less clunky than if I use multiple commas in a row.
Sometimes metaphors and shit fall flat. I also do one word sentences. Things that are stylistic choices are not always AI.
I promise you all that every single one of my stories is written by me after suffering and being tormented by visions.
yay first bucky one shot !! this literally started as me wanting to write some quick and dirty one-bed trope nonsense... and then it got real lol. i just love him your honor, i got angsty and fluffy real fast. as always, please let me know what you think!!
like real people do / bucky barnes x reader
I do not have a taglist--if you'd like to be notified, please follow @vegaslibrary and turn on post notifications!
summary: a brush with death on a mission leads to you and bucky confronting your feelings.
word count: 5.6k
warnings: canon level violence/scary situations, language, angst, minor suggestiveness (this takes place in some reality where bucky & reader work for fury lmao & a very minor reference to this happening after endgame but none of that really matters it was just the vibe that ended up happening)
The air felt hot and sticky around you, laced with danger and the edge of fear you were keeping at arm's length… but it was harder to do so as you went crashing down a full flight of stairs… assailant in tow and doing nothing to break your fall.
“Princess? Could use a little help out here,” you heard Bucky grunt in your ear and the familiar surge of worry filled your chest as you rolled to your feet, not wasting a second in launching an attack on the man in front of you.
“Little busy, Buck,” you managed to get out, dodging a hit before landing one of your own, but your thoughts weren’t here. Each step you took backwards was goading your attacker, but it was also leading you closer to Bucky. “How bad?” you followed up, a kick sharp to your ribs knocking the breath out of you but the feeling was secondary to everything else going on in your mind.
“Don’t worry about me,” he replied. The words eased your anxiety–marginally–and let you be more present in the fight at your feet, not the one down the hall.
Everything in your body ached, and you didn’t know if the blood sliding down your temple was from where you’d collided with every sharp edge of the staircase, or from one of the hits your opponent had managed to land.
If you had to wager, you’d probably say it was from both.
You tasted blood against your teeth, and you finally landed a combo that brought the man to his knees… but before you could finish the job he was back on his feet, grabbing you by the throat and pinning you to the wall. Your legs kicked several feet off the ground as he lifted you, the force cutting off your airflow.
He knocked your head against the concrete hard enough to make your ears ring, and you brought your fists down with everything you had against his elbows–trying to break them down, give you some kind of opening, but they were locked and rigid.
“Bucky!” you choked out, praying to a god you didn’t really believe in that he heard you. When the gloved hand tightened around the column of your throat you felt the lack of oxygen clouding your brain, vision darkening around the edges.
You fell to the floor suddenly, knees colliding painfully with the concrete as you sucked in a desperate breath. Your lungs burned as you coughed, trying to force the air down around the panic that had begun to settle deep in your bones.
A gunshot fell on your muffled ears, but you didn’t flinch. Somewhere in the back of your mind you instinctively knew it was Bucky, and you pressed your palms flat against the cool floor to try and ground yourself… but Bucky’s slid over them, gripping and trying to get you to focus on him.
“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out and tilting your chin up. As soon as you looked into those stormy blue eyes you felt some of the anxiety ease, and he made quick work looking you over. “Talk to me, are you okay?” His gaze was holding yours with a little too much weight and you swore he might have flinched when he saw the outline of the man’s hands already appearing around your neck… but maybe you’d been deprived of air for too long.
You nodded, trying to hide your wince as he helped you to your feet. “Never better,” you replied, taking a step back and trying to put some distance between you. “Did you get it?”
He gave you a slightly deadpan look, holding a flash drive between his thumb and index finger that you quickly snatched to zip safely into a pocket inside your suit.
“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” you sighed.
You slid Bucky’s spare helmet on your head with practiced ease and took your spot behind him on the bike… a routine done so many times neither of you even thought as your limbs moved.
He reached back and tapped twice against your calf, you tapped twice against his chest, and his bike roared into action.
You let yourself relax, just slightly, as you held onto Bucky and weaved through the busy streets of the foreign city. The cool night air felt like pure relief as it kissed your skin, and if you knew he wouldn’t yell at you, you’d have taken the helmet off to let it wash over you fully.
Your chin rested lightly on his shoulder, watching the way the streetlights blurred around you, as the weight of the night crashed heavy over your frame. His arm moved down to your leg, metal stretching down the length of it and gripping your calf, holding you firm as he took a tight turn, bike tilting closer to the pavement. He let it linger for a moment as it straightened out, knowing you were momentarily rattled by the mission even if you wouldn’t say it, and he gave you a soft squeeze that said more than he could in that moment.
You shifted, cheek pressing against his back, eyes fluttering closed and arms still tight around his torso. You thought to yourself that you loved these moments with Bucky maybe more than anything. Just you and him, the stretch of road, and the air whipping around you. You both were always outrunning danger, outrunning death, but on this bike it felt like it couldn’t catch you. Like nothing could… and Bucky was thinking the same thing.
He didn’t need to look back at you to know you’d shut your eyes, and his grip on the handlebars tightened. The feeling of you wrapped around him, placing your trust right in the palm of his hands did something to him that he didn’t want to think about too much. You shot through the night, barely a blur to stationary eyes, and you had relaxed into him and closed your eyes. The weight of that had clawed its way into Bucky’s chest, made a home somewhere under his ribs, and he hated how much he liked it.
You hopped off the bike with ease, looking up at the motel that would have been unappealing on its best day like it was a beacon of comfort and sanctuary, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the way your heavy footsteps trudged all the way to the door.
You stood there for a moment, staring at it like it might open itself… and so did he.
“Aren’t you gonna open it?” you asked, brow furrowing.
“Was gonna ask you the same thing, princess.”
You just looked at each other for a moment, trying to process.
“I don’t have the key,” you said and his eyes widened.
“Well, I don’t have it either,” he replied and you pinched the bridge of your nose.
“I saw Fury give you the key.”
“Then you took it after we dropped our shit off.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “World’s best assassin.” You patted along your suit, trying to feel for a key you knew you didn’t have. “Can’t keep track of a fucking motel key.”
“You talking about me or you?” He wasn’t able to keep the smirk off his face, despite his exhaustion.
“You know what?” you asked and he raised his eyebrows expectantly, but his expression dropped almost as fast as you did to your knees right in front of him.
“What the hell are you-” he stopped short, watching you pull a bobby pin from your hair to stick into the door handle.
“Oh,” he murmured, a sheepish hand landing on the back of his neck, and you huffed a soft laugh, turning back to give him an amused glance as you jimmied the door open. He was grateful you couldn’t see the heat in his cheeks under the cover of night, or the way he locked his gaze on the door rather than you beneath him.
You took his hand when he offered it, and pushed into the sparse room with a sigh. You were ready to sink into your post-mission routine when you caught a glimpse of the key resting on the dresser, just beside his things, and you turned to look at him triumphantly.
“Aha!” you said, pointing. “I knew I didn’t take it.”
“You can be so petulant sometimes,” he muttered. “At least you’re consistent. Like a common criminal.”
You scoffed. “And thank god for it.”
“You want first shower?” He was already pulling a change of clothes out and you shook your head, busying yourself with propping your tablet up beside him.
“Go ahead, gonna get this to Fury.”
His gaze on you lingered for a moment, but you didn’t notice, and he disappeared into the bathroom like it hadn’t happened.
Your fingers traced the spot where your opponent had grabbed you, wincing at how tender it felt. You waited for the intel to load, mind drifting to what could have happened if Bucky hadn’t made it in time.
You shook off the thought.
Bucky always got to you.
It wasn’t just your easy dynamic, or deep-seated feelings you refused to acknowledge that kept you from asking Fury to reassign you… it was that he never left you behind.
There were moments where he could have, where you nor anyone else would have blamed him. When it was too dangerous to go back for you, when it would have compromised him as much as you were… he always showed up.
And you did the same for him.
Countless missions, countless brushes with death. You’d both die before leaving the other behind.
You walked out together, or you didn’t walk out at all.
The tablet dinged and you pulled out the flash drive, tucking into your bag and pulling out your pajamas just as Bucky opened the bathroom door.
He was towel drying his hair, white tee and low-slung grey sweats hugging him in a way you tried really hard not to focus on.
“Don’t get mad that there’s no hot water,” he said, almost sheepishly. “There wasn’t any when I got in.”
You huffed an unamused laugh, meeting his eye for just a moment. “Only the best for Fury’s top agents,” you joked before shutting the door behind you.
You didn’t linger under the icy stream, not wanting to spend any more time than you had to. Each movement tugged and pulled at your muscles in a way that made you fight a groan–you didn’t want to make a peep. Not with Bucky and his super soldier hearing on the other side of the door. It’d only make him worry, and all you wanted was sleep.
When you re-emerged he was already laying on his side of the bed, closest to the door like always, and you finally noticed the fact that there was in fact only one–and you breathed a light sigh of relief. You should have been annoyed, you had a suspicion Fury actually kept doing this to you both for his own amusement, but you didn’t care. Even with the firm boundary of six inches between you, you always slept better beside Bucky. You felt safe, and you were more rested after a long mission than you were on a normal night in the compound.
He watched you carefully as you tucked your suit into your bag and went through your usual routine of getting ready for bed. Each new bruise he spotted made him shift upright, concern darkening his expression, and he was quickly in motion when he saw the cut above your eyebrow he’d missed before.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and your eyebrow pinched at his sudden movement.
“What are you doing?” you asked, hovering in the center of the room, and you almost thought he looked mad for a second.
“Would you sit down?” he huffed, grabbing the med kit from his bag and you followed his orders despite your resigned sigh.
“It’s fine, Bucky.”
“No,” he said, voice firm as he moved in between your legs. “It’s really not.” He tilted your chin up to get a better look at it, disapproval settling deep in his features.
“It’s just a scratch.”
He gave you a deadpan look, running an alcohol swab across it. You hissed, hand shooting out to grab the hem of his shirt. You bunched it in your fist, fingers grazing the skin just above the waistband of his sweats and you felt him tense under your touch. You dropped your hand like he’d burned you, keeping your eyes on your own lap to avoid his gaze.
“Should have called for me sooner,” he muttered, carefully applying butterfly bandages like he was scared you’d shatter if he pressed too hard.
“Was a little preoccupied,” you replied and you could see just how unamused he was with you. “I had him,” you added. “Until he decided choking me out was a good plan.”
He was quiet as his hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb lightly tracing along the bruise that was growing angrier as it settled deep in your skin. You hated the warmth that flooded through you at the small contact, and the way his concerned eyes seemed to be burning right into your soul.
“You could have died.”
“But I didn’t,” you whispered, voice barely audible through the silence. “You always show up.”
“Almost didn’t,” he muttered. “I was pinned. Thought I wouldn’t make it in time…” he trailed off, giving you another once over to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
“He had you-” he hesitated, jaw tight. “By the throat, doll.” His voice was tight, stretching like it was about to break and your expression softened.
“I know.” You gave him your best reassuring look. “But I’m alright. Always am.”
He nodded once, unconvinced, and you sank back into the mattress as he put the kit away.
Something tense had settled over the room as you pulled the covers higher, but you didn’t know how to address it. Bucky always worried, you joked it was his inner old man coming out, but something in the way he’d held your gaze felt different. Something churned beneath the surface of his gaze, something you couldn’t name. You didn’t want to read into it–to let your mind wander into forbidden territory but the more the silence lingered the harder it was.
This wasn’t the first time you’d nearly died, wasn’t even the worst brush with it. You wanted to ask why this time had seemingly lodged itself under his skin but you couldn’t force the words past your lips.
The bed dipped under his weight as he slid in beside you, leaving a few inches of space like he always did but it didn’t matter. You could feel the warmth of him immediately, the pull to sink into it was almost gravitational but you resisted and leaned over to turn off the lamp.
You both laid silently, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, waiting to see if the other would say something but neither of you seemed willing to break.
His vibranium hand twitched on his chest and he exhaled softly, the weight finally pressing down hard enough.
“I’m going to say something.”
Your head tilted slightly towards him, but you didn’t move your eyes from the ceiling.
“Okay.”
“I didn’t have to kill that guy.” He paused, considering his next words. “I wanted to, because he was trying to kill you.”
Your breath caught somewhere in your throat. You knew the relationship he had with taking a life. No matter how justified, it always stirred old feelings and you never wanted him to do that for you unless he had to. “Bucky-”
“That doesn’t bother me,” he cut you off. “Maybe it should, but it doesn’t. What bothers me is how indifferent you are to dying.”
You sighed softly. “I’m not indifferent to dying.”
“Could have fooled me.” The words were sharp, but there was no edge to them.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you said, voice quiet.
“You always scare me,” he exhaled. “Everything you do scares the hell out of me.”
You didn’t respond, couldn’t find any words to say as your heart started to thump unevenly in your chest.
“I try not to worry because I know you can handle yourself,” he continued. “But in those moments when you can’t…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.
You finally turned to look at him, eyes settling on his profile and you felt something clench deep behind your ribs at the emotion he was trying to keep off his face.
“You’re important to me,” he said after a few moments, and this caught you off guard. You knew that… at least in theory. He’d never said it so explicitly, but he never had to. He said it through actions, in his own way.
“I know,” you whispered.
“No, I don’t think you do, doll.” he replied, erring on a sigh. You rolled over onto your side to face him fully, delicately, like if you moved too fast you’d break the moment. “I tried not to care about you, thought it would be too hard. You almost remind me of Steve, if he had a mouth like yours and a habit of driving me crazy.”
You breathed a short laugh.
“I didn’t want to care because I knew if I did, it’d be too much when you left.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere, have I?” You hadn’t been able to find any words until now, but those ones flowed out easily.
“Not yet,” he said, turning his head towards you and you felt your breath catch when he finally met your eyes.
You hesitated, just long enough for the silence to stretch. “Not ever.”
“You can’t say things like that,” he muttered and your brows pinched together.
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t mean it.”
You fixed him with a firm look, something close to irritation tugging in your chest. “I do mean it.”
He looked back at the ceiling. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve… changed since we started working together. You’re harsher, quicker to the trigger. I don’t want to rub off on you more than I already have.” You could see it clearly even if he was fighting to hide it–guilt. “You’re too good for me to be dragging you down, doll.”
You let out a sigh, not annoyed, just hurt. “You think you’re the big bad wolf corrupting little red riding hood?”
“Well-”
“Fury paired you with me because my heart got in the way too much. I gave second chances to people that used them to try and kill me, and I almost fucked up missions looking for good in people that wasn’t there.”
He didn’t respond.
“I was a great agent before I met you, but I made bad calls because I thought I could give people the same second chance that was given to me. I found a balance… because of you. I’m alive because of you, Bucky.”
You could see the confusion flicker behind his eyes, like he knew he’d said something wrong but wasn’t sure what. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Of course you didn’t.” You rolled back over and stared at the ceiling, feeling the crack of your heart as you did. “You just said you’re not good enough to be around. How is that not upsetting?”
“I’m not. And I don’t care if you think being my partner has helped you–all I can see is you becoming more like me and I can’t stand it.”
“Because being like you is such a bad thing?” Your eyes darted back to him again, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was worrying his cheek between his teeth, gaze hard as he stared above him.
“Yes.”
That hit low and stayed there, stubborn and sore. You could feel something dancing on your tongue that you wanted to bury… so you did.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” you huffed, shuffling out from under the covers and standing.
He propped himself up on his elbows, shocked by your sudden movement, and watched as you grabbed a pair of pants from your bag.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t–” you stopped, searching for the answer yourself. “I don’t know.” He sighed when your shorts hit the floor, then quickly crossed the room, catching your wrist. Not rough, but firm–enough to make you pause.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“What happened to knowing I could handle myself?” Your hands were shaking and Bucky was having a hard time figuring out what had made you snap like this, why you were refusing to look him in the eye.
“That’s not–fuck,” he muttered. “You’re not going anywhere because you’re angry and I can’t let you walk away like this. Can we just-” he stopped himself and ran a hand through his hair. “Can we just rewind? Go back and start this conversation over?”
“I don’t know how to pretend this conversation never happened.”
He looked lost, like he was searching for what he’d said wrong… and you weren’t stopping, so he grabbed the pants you were trying to step into and threw them somewhere behind you.
You stared at him, exasperation evident, the heat rising in your chest.
“Are you serious?”
“What the hell just happened?” He stared down at you but you wouldn’t look up. “One minute we’re having a conversation and the next you’re trying to storm out into a bad part of town in the middle of the night.”
You finally tilted your head up, and his face softened. Your eyes burned, throat tightening as you fought to keep your face blank, but he noticed… he always did.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded, voice gentler than it had just been. “Please just tell me what I said wrong.”
“You know, I was actually proud of myself for the way I’ve learned from you?” you asked, not really expecting an answer. You turned around and bent over to pick up your pants, and Bucky’s eyes darted away, jaw tight.
“Then I find out you actually think less of me for-”
“I do not think less of you-”
“That’s not even why I’m mad!” you yelled, throwing your jeans back onto the floor with a frustrated huff after stumbling trying to pull them on.
“Why are you mad? Make me understand here, sweetheart, because I’m having a real hard time figuring out how to fix this.”
Hearing him say sweetheart in that low tone made you falter, and he caught it.
He took a step closer and hooked your chin to keep your eyes on him when you tried to look away.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, voice dropping to nearly a whisper, trying to coax it out of you. “Please just talk to me.”
“Don’t,” you warned, pushing his arm away and taking a step back. “You don’t get to say you’re not good enough and then use the fact that I care to make me talk.”
“Is that really what this is about?”
“Of course it is!” you snapped. “I fucking love you, Bucky. And I am so tired of you acting like you’re unlovable. Like you don’t deserve something good.”
“I’m not,” he shot back, not even registering what you’d just said. “Not from you. Do you really think I could let myself–let you–get closer to me than you already are?”
“You don’t get to decide how I feel!” You were at the end of your rope, hands still shaking. “I love you, and you’re just going to have to figure out how to deal with that.”
The first time hadn’t sunk in, but the second made Bucky’s heart stop in his chest with a painful clench that nearly winded him. You loved him… but you weren’t done.
“I thought- fuck,” you shook your head, trying to organize your thoughts. “I have never expected you to feel the same way about me, but I can’t take you acting like I’m some delicate flower you’re bound to poison. I can’t listen to it and not tell you that I’m unbearably fucking in love with you.”
He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you with a look that you couldn’t read and you felt like you’d ripped your heart out and handed it to him just to watch him step on it.
The more the silence dragged, the more you itched to run… so you did.
You managed to tug your jeans up your legs as you said, “so to answer your question, yeah. I’m trying to storm out in the middle of the night because I can’t do whatever this is anymore. I’ll ask Fury to reassign me.”
You walked past him, each step laced with uncertainty and heartbreak, but you never made it to the door.
He caught your wrist and spun you around. You stumbled, colliding with his chest, hands braced on the firm muscle. You lifted your head to look up at him, eyes wide and scared of what he might say, but his mouth was on yours before you could even get a word out.
His lips were hungry, demanding and possessive as if he could etch his response into your skin… and then they were gone as soon as they’d appeared, leaving you reeling and breathless as he stepped back with a huff.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough with conflict. “I can’t–I’m only going to hurt you. You deserve better. Better than me.”
You just blinked for a moment, one hand coming up to touch your lips like you were trying to convince yourself it was real.
“Are you being serious right now?” you asked, and his head snapped up.
“What?”
“Do you need me to lay it all out? Is that it?”
“I don’t-”
“You never let me walk on the outside of the sidewalk. You’ve seen me kill people with my bare hands, but god forbid I walk too close to the street,” you started, letting out an unamused chuckle. “You keep an extra knife in your boot just for me, because you know I like to throw mine and then get mad when I don’t have it. Sometimes in the middle of the night you jolt awake, just to look at me. To make sure I’m still there. You think I don’t notice, but I do… it’s the only way I can sleep, and I sleep like shit at the compound because I don’t feel safe unless you’re near me.”
“Sweetheart-” he tried, but you just cut him off again, unable to stop now that you’d started.
“When I manage to make you laugh in the middle of a mission it actually feels like my heart is glowing and it’s disgusting,” you huffed, laughing despite yourself. You weren’t even making an effort to hide the tears that managed to slip down your cheeks. “I could listen to you laugh for the rest of my life and it still probably wouldn’t be enough. I’ve never cared about impressing anyone in the gym, but god–when you give me that infuriating little smirk of yours when I manage to catch you off guard, it makes me feel like I can do anything. You make me feel like I can do anything.”
You took a step forward and closed the distance. “You’re scared of hurting me. But I don’t think you realize–this, right now, is hurting me. You thinking you’re not good enough. That you’re not deserving of something good.”
His hands twitched at his sides, desperately wanting to reach out and grab you, but he held himself back.
“You deserve it more than anyone. And I’m not scared of you, Bucky. You’re not broken, not some ruined thing that needs fixed. I don’t even care if it’s not me, if you don’t want this or if you don’t feel the same, I just need you to stop acting like you don’t deserve it.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sighed, small and broken, finally reaching out to grab your waist and pull you closer.
He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing along your cheek as he looked down at you like you were something holy–sent to save and curse him all at once.
“I take the outside of the sidewalk, and bring an extra knife, and wake up just to check up on you because I love you.” he said, letting it hang for a moment as his hand on your waist tightened. “I love you so much, it scares the hell out of me… and I didn’t know how else to show you that. It didn’t feel fair to give it to you straight because this isn’t normal or easy, and I didn’t want to drag you into it.”
He took a deep breath. “You think I’m not damaged, but I am. I’ve got some serious shit I’m still working through, and I didn’t want to put you through that.”
“You’re putting me through it anyway,” you said. “Might as well let me hold your hand because I hate watching you do it alone.”
He just looked you over for a moment, searching for any trace of uncertainty in your eyes but all he found was an unwavering love that rattled him to his core.
He leaned down and kissed you–not fiery and desperate like the first time. Properly, slowly, like it should have been.
“Our lives were never meant to be normal and easy, Bucky,” you said when he pulled back, a hint of your usual mischief in your eyes that he loved so much. “I met you fighting weird alien robots that looked like bugs.”
He laughed, handing you that favorite sound of yours that made you flush, before giving you another slow, deep kiss.
“I wanna take you out,” he mumbled against your lips. “Something normal, like real people do.”
The ghost of a smirk tugged at your features. “You gonna ask me to go steady at the end of it, Sergeant Barnes?”
He fought a groan at hearing you pull out his long-forgotten rank. “Don’t call me that before date three–and I might.”
You laughed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nose brushing his.
“You think you’re making it to date three?” you teased and a slow, satisfied grin tugged at his lips.
“You did just scream at me over the fact that you’re in love with me,” he said, bringing his hands down to the top button of your jeans, slowly undoing it without breaking eye contact. “I think I can get a lot more out of you than three dates.”
Your breath hitched, but you didn’t deny it.
He caught the way your eyes tracked him as he sank onto the floor, tugging your jeans down your legs and holding your calves to help you step out of them. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, mildly scolding.
His hands slid up to the backs of your thighs and you couldn’t help but thread your fingers through his hair when he gently kissed below the hem of your shirt, a soft breath escaping… but he was back at your lips before you could even blink.
“Come on, off to bed,” he ordered, and you huffed a small laugh of disbelief.
“You’re a tease, Sergeant.”
“Shouldn’t have told you I liked that,” he muttered, sliding in beside you. “Call me old-fashioned, but I want to do this right–earn the privilege to have you like that.”
Your cheeks flushed and you bit back a smile as you settled beneath the covers.
“You’re very old fashioned,” you teased and he gave you a deadpan look. “But I think it’s perfect.” You leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a moment. “I’d wait as long as you wanted.”
You eyed the space between you. “Is the invisible boundary still in effect until date three?”
He chuckled and reached out, pulling you flush against him and you laid your head against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart as you wrapped an arm around his torso.
You lay like that for a few minutes, letting what had just happened wash over you as your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his arms holding you so securely, and the way he kept pressing kisses to the top of your head.
He reached down, gently tilting your chin towards him and your breath stalled when you caught those blue eyes you loved so much, holding yours just as intensely as they always did, but with something else in them now–completely unguarded.
“I need you to know I’ll never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”
You nodded, “I already knew that, Bucky.”
He leaned down to press his lips to yours, short and sweet before either of you let it turn into something heated.
“And I sleep better next to you, too,” he said, letting his thumb trail along your bottom lip. “Never have nightmares when you’re next to me.”
You smiled softly, cupping his cheek and tracing your thumb across his cheekbone. “I’ll be here if you ever do.”
He kissed you again, like he was trying to tell you something he didn’t have the words for, and you felt every one deep in your chest.
You chased his lips when he pulled away and he smirked against you, giving you one, then two, then three more quick kisses that made you giggle.
I have managed to avoid major thunderbolts spoilers (with great effort, this hell site is one land mine after another lmao) but I am FINALLY seeing it this weekend I cannot wait
shoutout to people who find mother’s day hard to deal with whether your mom left, your mom died, your mom is abusive, your mom is hard to connect with, you don’t get to see her, etc. get through today as best you can. love you.
And to all of those who long to be mothers but are not able to, or are not mothers yet. To those who have difficult relationships with their children. Those who have lost children.
You are offered $1000 if you can perfectly sing a random, popular karaoke song - it doesn't matter if you sound good, you just have to get all the words right, but no cheating! lyrics are not provided. spin the wheel and determine your fate...
Are ya getting that money?
I've never even heard of this song 😔
I'm familiar with this song, but definitely don't know all the words
I know this song pretty well, but I'm not confident I won't fumble a word or two
