Lovelies, the beautiful @biteofcherry sent me this prompt.
You decide to get a degree in something you've always dreamed of, but starting classes late in your 30s is a bit scary - you expect all young people, difficulties to fit into the group and studying with a brain tired after work.
What you don't expect is to find a kindred soul with similar worries. Bucky Barnes is definitely older than anyone in the class and battles his own anxious thoughts.
You find company in each other. And, with time, maybe something more.
What is Bucky studying?
Horticulture (growing things with his hands instead of being forced to destroy)
Cognitive Neuroscience (understand the brain supporting mental processes)
Linguistics (strips away the "mission" context of languages he has learned)
History (he is part of history yet has missed large chunks of it)
Mechanical Engineering (design and understand systems and devices, like his arm)
Mans is canonically a huge science and tech nerd. I think he'd take the opportunity to learn mechanical engineering because he never could due to being unable to afford higher education and then drafted.
Back on my uchiha shit after 6 years because my life is just a circle. Throw me some fic recs, I will fuck literally any of them except Sasuke (Itachi's my personal fav tho)
Yall today I go into a hot topic my friend works at to return something and use it as a way to annoy her manager who has sexually harassed her twice now. Tell me WHY I was fighting the urge to apologize and stop acting like a Karen to this dude out of pure instinct the whole time like if there is ANY customer service worker to harass it should be this guy and yet I was struggling yall
It would’ve been very delicious if Katara heard someone say “wow that’s a powerful bender” about Zuko after the southern raiders episode and now it conflicts with her thinking her fortune was about Aang when it could’ve been about Zuko.. 👀
Someone call Nickelodeon for me I have some ideas!
Alternatively, after Iroh tells Zuko he'll have to become Fire Lord, he confides in Katara about it otw to fight Azula and she says something like "That is a lot of responsibility, but you'd be in a powerful position to change things." And then her brain does a little "Hey, wait a minute..."
A friend lamented not being able to find any cocktails themed around the companions. So, with all the gay audacity in my heart and somewhat-rusty fancy cocktail knowledge I used to have at one point, I bring you...
Companion Themed Cocktails
in entirely too much thought and detail.
The Fiendish Pact | Wyll Ravenguard
The Fiendish Pact Ingredients:
1 oz Dark Rum (representing his dark pact)
1 oz Fireball Cinnamon Whisky (for the fiery power granted by Mizora)
0.5 oz Chambord Raspberry Liqueur (to symbolize the noble blood and his ties to Baldur's Gate)
2 oz Cranberry Juice (for the battles fought and blood shed in the name of justice)
Splash of Grenadine (for the secrets he carries)
Garnish with a skewer containing a Black Cherry and a twist of Orange Peel (representing the duality of his nature, dark yet striving for the light, impaled on the blade he carries)
Optional: Smoke the glass with cherry wood chips as a tribute to his devil shape
The Fiendish Pact Instructions:
In a shaker filled with ice, combine the dark rum, Fireball, Chambord, and cranberry juice.
Shake well until chilled.
Smoke the cocktail glass with cherry wood chips.
Strain the mixture into the prepared glass.
Add a splash of grenadine, allowing it to sink to the bottom for a layered effect.
Garnish with a black cherry and a twist of orange peel.
I think he deserves to be a complex blend of warmth, sweetness, and depth. Dark rum and Fireball Cinnamon Whisky give his drink a robust base with a spicy kick. Chambord Raspberry Liqueur adds a layer of sophistication, while cranberry juice introduces tartness, adding balance to the sweetness.
//fair warning, some of the later descriptions are going to be cheesy as fuck cuz it sparked joy to be dramatic and extra, lol. Besides, it’ll give you something to laugh at while you drink it.
Eclipse of the Heart | Astarion Ancunín
^He is unamused by the pretty drink in his honor that he cannot have.
Eclipse of the Heart Ingredients:
1.5 oz Black Vodka (symbolizing his dark, vampiric nature)
1 oz Pomegranate Juice (representing the blood that is central to his existence)
0.5 oz Triple Sec (to add a hint of sweetness, reflecting his own genuine sweetness, as well as his charm and wit)(I'm normal about him, okay?)
0.5 oz Lime Juice (introducing a sharpness akin to Astarion's biting sarcasm)(Gods, he gets you good in game, doesn't he? SIR, I want you to HEAL, please be NICE TO ME.)
Splash of Soda Water (to lighten the drink)
Garnish with a slice of Starfruit (representing his high elf lineage and his star-like allure)(Little Star ⭐)
Edible Silver Glitter (because, come on... it's Astarion. The glitter was practically implied. And this is the kind that doesn't stick to everything in your life, so it's *friendly* glitter)
Eclipse of the Heart Instructions:
In a shaker filled with ice, combine the black vodka, pomegranate juice, triple sec, and lime juice.
Shake vigorously until well-chilled.
Strain into a chilled martini glass.
Add a splash of soda water
Garnish with a slice of starfruit on the rim and a sprinkle of edible silver glitter over the top.
As visually striking as our boy and as dark as his past, this one is flavorful drink that combines depth with surprisingly vibrant notes. Using of black vodka as the base gives it an intriguing visual element. Pomegranate juice gives it a very nice fruity sweetness (for the fruity boy) and a deep red hue, because we had black for trauma, now we need red for blood. Triple sec gives all that fruitiness a light citrus sweetness, while lime juice cuts through that sweetness just enough with its sharp acidity to keep it refreshing. Kind of like our boy balancing sarcasm and sweetness to always keep you on your toes.
Fuckin shame he can’t drink it, though.
Infernal Heart | Karlach Cliffgate
I am so normal about her. *sigh...*
Infernal Heart Ingredients:
2 oz Bourbon (rugged, with an enduring flavor, much like Karlach herself, as well as her spirit)
0.5 oz Spiced Rum (to pay homage to her fiery heart (furnace?) and infernal ties)
1 oz Blood Orange Juice (representing her tiefling heritage and paying homage to her battle prowess)
0.5 oz Grenadine (for the deep red of Avernus and the pact that changed her fate)
Dash of Tabasco (for the burning rage against those who betrayed her, also because the spicy is quite nice)
Garnish with a Flamed Orange Peel (orange peel for the renewed zest (get it? don't hurt me.) for her life and freedom, while the fire symbolizes... well.)(smells nice, too)
Black Salt (reflecting the ashes of her enemies and her tumultuous past)(if you don't have homemade Gortash ashes, store bought will do)
Infernal Heart Instructions:
Rim a rocks glass with black salt, setting the stage for a drink as complex as Karlach herself. Gods, I love her...
Fill a shaker with ice and add the following ingredients: bourbon, spiced rum, blood orange juice, and grenadine.
Shake the mixture vigorously until it is well chilled.
Strain the contents into the salt-rimmed glass, which should also be filled with fresh ice.
Incorporate a dash of Tabasco sauce to the drink for a slight heat.
Finally, garnish the drink with a flamed orange peel.
A testament to survival, a sip of vengeance, and a toast to freedom. Each ingredient tells a part of Karlach's story, from her fiery infernal heritage to the icy resolve that has seen her through her darkest days.
Combining the rich depth of bourbon with the spicy warmth of spiced rum, highlighted them both with a little tangy sweetness from blood orange juice and grenadine. A touch of Tabasco gives a subtle heat.
...and if it happens to look good next to Wyll... well, he looks good next to her.
Arcane Elixir | Gale Dekarios
GODS was this one difficult. I think the pearl luster dust is a nice touch, though, credit to @nuclear--pigeon for this addition.
Arcane Elixir Ingredients:
2 oz Gin (the clearness symbolizing clarity and sharpness of mind)(don’t think about it too hard, I’ve been drinking)(I know it’s not Waterdeep Whiskey, but I wanted the drink to be purple)(also I think he drinks that straight? Somebody ask Tim.)
1 oz Blue Curacao (for a touch of the mystical and because the drink is going to be purple)
1 oz Chambord Raspberry Liqueur (to achieve a deep, enchanting purple hue, representing Gale's affinity for magic and his signature color)(purple)(did I mention it's purple?)
0.5 oz Lemon Juice (it needs it, it adds a layer of complexity, akin to Gale's multifaceted nature)(don't go too hard or the color skews)(the goddam purple I got so hung up on for some reason)
0.5 oz Simple Syrup (balancing the flavors, much like Gale seeks balance in his use of magic)
A dash of Absinthe (embodying the allure and danger of forbidden spells)(put the crown down, Gale!)
A Pinch of Pearl Dust (to mimic the swirling galaxy effect, symbolizing the vast and unpredictable Weave of magic Gale taps into)
Garnish with a Spiral Lemon Peel (a bit silly, but symbolizing Gale's spiraling journey through magic and ambition)
Arcane Elixir Instructions:
In a shaker filled with ice, combine the gin, blue curacao, Chambord raspberry liqueur, lemon juice, and simple syrup. Shake vigorously until well chilled. (Also try not to judge me for the re-use of the raspberry liqueur, it’s good shit.)
Strain the mixture into a chilled cocktail glass and add a dash of absinthe. (…or, much like Gale should have skipped fucking around with the Karsus Weave, you could just… skip it?)
Sprinkle a pinch of pearl dust into the drink, stirring lightly to create a mesmerizing, swirling galaxy effect within the glass.
Admire the galaxy effect.
Garnish with a spiral lemon peel.
Alright, so forgiving the fact that I used gin in Gale's drink, it does set a crisp, clear foundation. Then the Blue Curacao does actually lend quite a nice citrusy depth to it, if you can forgive the memories of college (because you were definitely of drinking age when you started drinking Blue Curacao, right?), while the Chambord Raspberry Liqueur is really just there for the color, though it does play really nicely with the citrus. Lemon juice adds a necessary acidity, it gives it some brightness and keeps the sweetness from dominating. Simple syrup just harmonizes the flavors, gives it a more balanced profile so nothing sits fun on the tongue...like the absinthe you should actually skip.
I will do a second drink for Gale with Waterdeep Whiskey in it later. At least it’s pretty tasty???
Emerald Embrace (or) Grove Guardian's Gift | Halsin Silverbough
Yadda yadda trying to encapsulate the essence of Halsin's character: a blend of strength, healing, and the untamed wild, with a touch of the hedonistic pleasures he openly embraces, you get my drift. Now look at the pretty giant druid.
I had fun with this one. I am also THE MOST normal about Oak Daddy.
Emerald Embrace Ingredients:
2 oz Herbal Gin (for his deep connection to nature)(seriously, did you see him talking to the oak tree on 'that night'?)(also I think maybe he’s old enough to be a gin drinker)
1 oz Elderflower Liqueur (the sweetness of life and nature's bounty)
0.5 oz Green Chartreuse (reflecting the essence of the wild and untamed)
0.5 oz Fresh Lime Juice (for vitality and a zest of life)(it needs the lime, alright? be gentle with me, I was running out of clever ways to say add lime / lemon)
1 tbsp Honey Syrup (a totally not unserious nod to Halsin's favorite wild shape and his love for honey; plus, it's easy to make, notes below)
A splash of Soda Water (to add lightness, also... in the spirit of his lighthearted nature? idk, go with it)
Garnish with Fresh Mint, a Sprig of Thyme, and Edible Flowers (representing Halsin's healing abilities and his connection to the Emerald Grove)(I have a thing for plant symbolism, sorry)
Emerald Embrace Instructions:
Make the honey syrup; prepare by whisking equal parts honey and warm water until honey is dissolved.
In a shaker, combine the herbal gin, elderflower liqueur, green Chartreuse, lime juice, and honey syrup.
Fill the shaker with ice and shake well until the mixture is chilled and thouroughly-combined.
Strain into a highball glass filled with fresh ice.
Top with a splash of soda water for a refreshing finish.
Gently stir to incorporate the soda water with the rest of the drink.
Garnish with fresh mint, a sprig of thyme, and edible flowers to evoke the essence of the Emerald Grove.
Elderflower liqueur gives it fragrant sweetness, while Green Chartreuse lends some herbal complexity. Fresh lime juice brings vitality and a bright zest, cutting through the sweetness with just enough acidity. Honey syrup brings balance across the flavors with its mellow, natural sweetness, while soda water gives the drink back its lightness.
More yadda yadda a cocktail that invites you into the heart of the forest... but beware the bear (...of a headache you'll have in the morning from drinking too many of these. Don't worry, he'll take care of you.)
Shadow's Caress | Shadowheart Hallowleaf
Shadow's Caress Ingredients:
2 oz Blackberry Brandy (for the darkness that lurked within and around her)
1 oz Creme de Violette (to represent her connection to Shar and the mystical)
0.5 oz Lemon Juice (adding a hint of sharpness and the unexpected turns in her life)
0.5 oz Honey Syrup (acknowledging her softer side and the sweetness hidden beneath her tough exterior)(and definitely not because some was made already from Halsin’s drink)
A dash of Blackberry Syrup (to deepen the color, echoing the darkness of her path)
Garnish with a Blackberry and a Sprig of Rosemary (the blackberry for the dark fruits of her labor and rosemary for remembrance of her past)
Shadow's Caress Instructions:
In a shaker, combine the blackberry brandy, creme de violette, lemon juice, honey syrup, and blackberry syrup. The syrup not only adds to the cocktail's dark allure but also symbolizes Shadowheart's embrace of the shadows.
Fill the shaker with ice and shake well until the mixture is chilled and the flavors are well-blended.
Strain into a chilled martini glass, creating a smooth, inviting surface that belies the complexity beneath.
Garnish with a fresh blackberry and a sprig of rosemary, adding visual appeal and a hint of aromatic intrigue.
I like this one. A delightfully nuanced blend of sweet, tart, and floral flavors, trying to give it a theme of complexity and depth. Something to sip and savor. Blackberry brandy is fruity and dark, while Creme de Violette adds a delicate floral note. Lemon juice cuts through the sweetness with its acidity, adding brightness.
The honey syrup I certainly didn't happen to have around softens the overall flavor profile with its natural sweetness, and the addition of blackberry syrup enhances the drink's depth of color and flavor, reinforcing the theme of depth and complexity.
//okay, side note? I started this project with Shadowheart’s drink and the first version was just a play on what she suffers, so it was dark and twisted. Then I did Wyll’s drink and had fun with it, so I started the whole project over. I still have the scary Shadowheart drink recipe if anyone is interested for any reason, but you must promise not to drink it.
Astral Blade | Lae'zel of Crèche K'liir
Astral Blade Ingredients:
2 oz Silver Tequila (representing Lae'zel's swift and deadly combat skills)(as well as a nod to the fucking headache I’m going to have tomorrow)
1 oz Blue Curacao (for the blue of the astral sea and the githyanki's affinity for it)
0.5 oz Lime Juice (adding sharpness, akin to beloved Lae'zel's personality.)
0.5 oz Agave Syrup (to honor the githyanki's otherworldly origins)
A dash of Blue Butterfly Pea Flower Tea (for a deep, mesmerizing blue that transforms with acidity, symbolizing Lae'zel's potential for change)
Lime Wheel (a bit silly, but evoking the Astral Plane)
Sprinkle of Edible Silver Dust (Astral Plane + shiny swords + it was out already from Astarion’s drink = yep, going in.)
Astral Blade Instructions:
Brew a small amount of blue butterfly pea flower tea and let it cool. This tea is known for its vivid blue color and color-changing properties when mixed with acidic ingredients.
In a shaker filled with ice, combine the silver tequila, blue curacao, lime juice, and agave syrup. Shake until well-chilled.
Strain the mixture into a glass filled with fresh ice.
Slowly pour the cooled butterfly pea flower tea over the drink to create a layered effect.
Garnish with a lime wheel and a sprinkle of edible silver dust, mirroring the mystical and martial essence of Lae'zel.
Okay, so I really like this one.
I like how the crispness of the silver tequila plays nicely with the tartness of lime juice and the subtle sweetness of agave syrup. But the blue butterfly pea flower tea is where it's at. It gives the drink this dynamic, deep blue hue that transforms with a splash of acidity which is just very pretty to watch. The silver dust, too, just adds a gorgeous element to the drink.
…and also if it just happens that her drink looks really pretty with Shadowheart’s drink, that’s definitely not because I ship them real hard.
That’s it, folks! …for now.
--------------
You’ve reached the end for now! If you like any these drinks, I wanna hear about it! If you want drinks for you Tav or for other game characters, let me know and I’ll see what I can come up with!
Pairing: Chubby!Baker! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Tags: Fluff. Slight Angst. Smut.
Summary: A fresh start in a small town brings her to a quiet bakery and a man who's built his life around routine and distance. Bucky Barnes doesn't do charm, and certainly doesn't do people, but small towns have a way of pulling strangers into orbit, and something neither of them planned for begins to bloom.
Word Count: 5k.
The house smelled like dust and old wood.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen it; she'd made the two-hour drive from her hometown on a rainy Tuesday in March, trailing behind a bank inspector who chewed gum too loudly and kept pointing out everything that was within expected parameters for an auction property. Translation: everything was fucked, but not so fucked that the place would collapse on her.
Still, she bought it.
Because the loan she'd secured thanks to the publishing house's reputation was decent enough to cover the ridiculously cheap auction price and leave a cushion for repairs. Because she worked from home anyway, and two hours wasn't much when her friends knew to text before showing up.
And because, honestly, she needed space.
Now, standing in the middle of the living room with a broom in one hand, she surveyed her kingdom of peeling paint and questionable plumbing. The windows were finally clean -she'd spent the better part of the morning scrubbing away years of grime- and the floors bore the ghost marks of furniture long gone.
The moving truck had arrived three hours late. The guys had been nice enough, and when she'd slipped them some extra cash, they'd assembled her bed without complaint. Small mercies. She'd signed off on the delivery with a tired smile and watched them drive away, leaving her alone with a house full of boxes and the particular silence that comes with new beginnings.
Her shoulders ached. Her knees ached. She had flaking paint under her nails and a hunger that had stopped being polite hours ago.
But first: dealing with the aftermath.
Some cardboard boxes, crumpled packing paper, sheets of bubble wrap, torn plastic… it was everywhere. She gathered what she could, breaking down boxes and stacking them against the living room wall in a vaguely organized pile. The garbage situation was a mystery she'd have to solve tomorrow. She had no idea what day trash went out here, or if there was a specific protocol. Every small town came with its own rulebook she hadn't been given yet.
The real unpacking will come later. She fished through boxes until she found the one labeled Essentials, with sheets, pillows, and a set of towels. Another box yielded basic kitchen supplies: a pot, a pan, utensils, and a couple of plates. Good enough for now.
She dug through the box marked Pantry until her fingers closed around a package of pasta. Dinner was a simple affair: boiled noodles with a thread of oil -she wished she had butter- and salt, eaten standing at the kitchen counter because she hadn't unpacked chairs yet. The taste of accomplishment made it better than it had any right to be.
By the time she crawled into bed -her bed, in her house- she was exhausted. She was asleep before she could overthink the creaks and groans of an unfamiliar house around her.
----
Morning came with sunlight streaming through bare windows and the disorienting feeling of waking up somewhere new.
She shuffled to the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry box again until she found instant coffee and a carton of shelf-stable skim milk. The enamel kettle -thankfully- had survived the move unscathed. She filled it, set it on the stove, and waited.
The coffee was terrible. But it was caffeine, and paired with some crackers she'd found at the bottom of the box, it would do.
Unpacking could wait. She wanted to explore, to see this place in daylight without the pressure of inspections and paperwork. Wanted to walk these streets as a resident, not a visitor.
She finished her makeshift breakfast, rinsed the mug, and headed out.
----
The town was small. Main Street ran straight through the center, a spine of old brick buildings with faded awnings and hand-painted signs. She passed the general store first; its window display was a chaotic arrangement of canned goods, fishing supplies, and a dusty mannequin wearing overalls. An older man sweeping the sidewalk nodded at her. She nodded back.
Across the street, a diner with red vinyl booths visible through the window. The smell of coffee and bacon drifted out every time the door opened. A few people sat at the counter, talking in that easy way people do when they've known each other for decades.
Further down: a post office that looked like it hadn't been updated since the seventies, a pharmacy with a bench out front where two elderly women sat watching the world go by. They smiled at her. Curious, friendly. She smiled back.
There was a church with a white steeple, a community center with a bulletin board covered in flyers for bake sales and town meetings, and a small park with playground equipment that had seen better days but was still clearly loved.
A hardware store on a corner, its windows crammed with tools, paint cans, and gardening supplies. The owner -a middle-aged woman in a denim apron- was arranging seed packets outside. She looked up as she passed.
"Morning!"
"Good morning," she replied, a little surprised by the warmth.
"You must be the one who bought the old Miller place."
News traveled fast. "Yeah, that's me."
"Welcome to town, honey. If you need anything, come see me. I'm Linda."
"Thank you. I will."
It was the kind of place where people noticed newcomers. Where they cared, or at least pretended to. She wasn't sure yet which one it was, but it felt... nice. Different.
She wandered a bit more, taking mental notes: a small library, a gas station, a shop that seemed to sell both antiques and taxidermy in equal measure. By the time she looped back, approaching her street from the opposite direction, her stomach was reminding her that crackers and bad coffee weren't a real breakfast.
That's when she saw it.
Barnes Bakery.
The sign was weathered but clean, hanging above a corner storefront with large windows fogged from the warmth inside. It was only a block from her house, close enough that she could smell bread baking if the wind was right.
Perfect.
She pushed the door open, and a rusty bell announced her arrival.
----
The place was warm, with old things well cared for: dark wood shelves, a counter with a cash register that looked like it belonged in another era, and the smell -God, the smell- of fresh-baked bread that wrapped around her like a blanket.
Her eyes went immediately to the display case.
The usual suspects were there -sandwich bread, rolls, croissants- but what caught her attention were the individual pizzas. Small, round, ready to bake. The kind of thing you didn't expect in a small-town bakery. They looked homemade, topped with simple ingredients, sitting in a small fridge near the register.
Behind the counter stood a man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a gray t-shirt that stretched over a soft middle and arms that looked used to kneading pounds of dough without breaking a sweat. He had brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, and several days' worth of beard darkening his jaw. He didn't look at her right away; he was arranging pastries on a tray with precise movements.
She watched him longer than was probably polite, caught off guard by how... attractive he was. The kind of handsome that snuck up on you.
She slapped herself mentally. Handsome or not, he was clearly not caring about hearing the bell chime, so she cleared her throat softly.
He looked up.
Blue eyes. Tired. The kind that had seen too much and now just wanted the day to end without complications.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi." Deep voice, neutral. Not unfriendly, but not inviting, either.
She stepped closer, gesturing toward the display. "Those pizzas- are they ready to bake?"
"Yeah." He straightened slightly. "Take 'em home, throw 'em in the oven. Twenty minutes at 375."
"That’s so good," she said, genuinely impressed. "I don't think I've seen that in my town. Frozen, yes, but not like this… recently made."
He averted his gaze slightly and shrugged. "Saw it... abroad." The word came out rough, like he didn't say it often. "Figured it'd work here."
"Well, you weren't wrong," she said easily. "I'll take one of those. And-" she scanned the rest of the case, “four scones for later?"
He nodded, putting the pizza in a little box and grabbing a paper bag without a word, then opened the display case and pulled out four scones. They were substantial, bigger than she'd expected, the kind that could actually pass for a meal. Two for this afternoon, two for tomorrow's breakfast.
Perfect.
He told her the total in the same flat voice. "Anything else?"
"No, that's good." She paid in cash, and when he gave her change, his fingers barely brushed hers, quick, like the contact was an accident he preferred to avoid.
"Thanks," she said, taking the bags. "Everything smells amazing, by the way."
He blinked.
For a second, something crossed his expression -surprise, discomfort, she wasn't sure- and then the tips of his ears turned red.
He didn't say anything. Just gave a single nod, barely perceptible.
She left with her hands full and a smile on her lips, thinking that everything in the bakery looked delicious.
And not just the merchandise.
----
What she didn't know was that Bucky Barnes, standing behind the counter with his arms crossed and his ears still warm, was staring at the door she'd just walked through.
He didn't recognize her. And he knew everyone in this town: had grown up here, left, came back. Knew which old ladies liked their bread extra toasted, which kids would try to sneak cookies when their parents weren't looking, and who was related to whom going back three generations.
But her?
No idea.
Passing through, maybe. Visiting someone. There were a few people who rented cabins outside town, though it was early in the season for that.
He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.
None of his business, anyway.
He turned back to the tray of pastries, focusing on the familiar rhythm of work. But his eyes still drifted to the window every now and then, like they had a mind of their own.
----
A few days had passed since she'd first walked into Barnes Bakery, and in that time, she'd made decent progress on the house. The place was starting to feel less like a project and more like a home, or at least it would, once she stopped nearly breaking her neck every time she needed to reach something above shoulder height.
Standing on a wobbly kitchen chair for the third time that morning, trying to tighten a loose cabinet hinge, she'd finally had enough.
"Screw this," she muttered, climbing down carefully and grabbing her keys.
The hardware store was only a few blocks away, and within twenty minutes, she'd acquired a lightweight aluminum step ladder. Short, practical, and exactly what she needed. She'd also grabbed a few other essentials: a level, some wood filler, and a new set of screwdrivers that didn't feel like they'd snap in half at the first sign of resistance.
By the time she left the store, the ladder was slung over one shoulder, hooked through one of its steps, and a canvas bag of tools hung from the other. She felt accomplished, if a bit ridiculous, weighed down like a one-woman construction crew.
And she was starving.
The bakery wasn't far, and the idea of fresh bread -maybe another one of those scones- was too tempting to pass up. She adjusted her grip on the ladder and headed that way, her stomach already growling in anticipation.
As she passed a shop window, she caught her reflection and winced.
Joggers dusted with drywall powder. An old, faded t-shirt that had seen better days… probably five years ago. Her hair… better not talk about it.
Please let someone else be working today, she thought, even though she knew it was unlikely. Small-town bakery, and the one guy behind the counter seemed to own the place. Still, one could hope.
She pushed open the door, the familiar chime announcing her arrival.
Of course, it was him.
He stood behind the counter with his attention on a customer, a middle-aged man with a sour expression and an entitled air that seemed to fill the small space. His gaze flicked to her as she entered, and for a brief moment, their eyes met.
He registered her. The ladder. The tools.
His expression didn't change, just that same neutral mask, before he turned his attention back to the man in front of him.
She moved to the side, setting the ladder down carefully and trying not to take up too much space. The man was asking about prices, his tone clipped and impatient as the baker answered each question with the same even, unbothered voice.
"And these?" The man pointed at a tray of palmiers, their golden, caramelized layers glistening under the display lights.
"Three fifty each,"
The man scoffed. "That's expensive for something that has what, flour and sugar?"
The baker didn't respond. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, his shoulders tensing in a way that suggested he was biting back whatever he actually wanted to say. The discomfort was subtle, but it was there, a flicker of something in his eyes, a slight shift in his posture.
She'd been standing there for at least five minutes, watching this guy nitpick every item like he was conducting a price audit. The rudeness was grating, but seeing the clerk stay silent, clearly uncomfortable, pushed her over the edge.
"Puff pastry takes a long time to make," she said, her voice cutting through the tension, but she kept it deliberately calm. "Those probably had about one hour of refrigeration between each fold, and they use a lot of butter."
Bucky's gaze snapped to her, surprise crossing his face for just a moment.
The man turned, looking her up and down with thinly veiled irritation. "Still seems like too much time for what you get."
She bit the inside of her cheek, weighing her options. She was new here, didn't know who this guy was or what kind of connections he might have in a small town like this. Escalating wasn't worth it.
"Well," she said lightly, offering a small shrug, "you're in luck. There's plenty of other things here that look amazing and probably took less time."
It was a polite deflection, but the subtext was clear: buy something else then. And more than that, it was a subtle compliment to everything else Bucky had made.
The man's mouth pressed into a thin line, clearly not appreciating being redirected, but he didn't argue. He muttered something under his breath, grabbed a couple of items from the counter without further comment, and paid in silence.
The baker rang him up with a neutral mask, handing over the bag without a word.
The bell chimed as the man left, and the sudden quiet felt like a release of pressure.
----
She stepped up to the counter, adjusting the bag of tools on her shoulder. "Hi," she said, offering a small smile.
"Hi," he replied, his voice back to that same even tone. His gaze flicked to hers briefly before dropping to the display case, his hands already moving to wipe down the counter with a pink rag in front of him.
"I'll take another one of those pizzas," she said, gesturing toward the individual ones in the fridge. "And some of those breadsticks."
He nodded, reaching for a paper bag. "Which kind?"
"What do you have?"
"Oregano, onion, seeded, garlic," he listed off, still not quite meeting her eyes as he spoke. His focus stayed on the breadsticks, his hands moving over the display.
"Oh," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I've never had garlic breadsticks before."
That made him pause. His gaze lifted, just for a second, before he reached into the case and pulled one out. He held it out to her across the counter.
"Try it," he said, his voice quieter now but firm. "See if you like it. No point in buying something you're not gonna eat."
Their eyes met as she took it from him, and for once, he held her gaze for a moment.
She bit into the breadstick, the savory punch of roasted garlic and butter hitting her taste buds immediately. Her eyes widened slightly, and she nodded as she chewed.
"Okay, yeah," she said after swallowing. "That's really good."
His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close to it.
"I'll take four onion and four garlic," she said, brushing a few crumbs from her fingers.
He nodded, already reaching for another bag. "Onion and garlic it is, then," he said, his voice low as he turned toward the display.
She watched as he pulled out the breadsticks, his movements methodical as he counted them into the bag. His back was to her now, blocking her view as he worked.
"Well, they look good," she said with a self-conscious little laugh, "at least for now, I don't have to worry about smelling like garlic around anyone."
Bucky's hands stilled for just a fraction of a second before he continued packing.
When he turned back to hand her the bag, his eyes flicked to her lips -quick, furtive- before he looked away.
She blinked, her heart doing an odd little skip.
Did that just happen, or was she imagining things?
She wasn't sure. Maybe the drywall dust had gotten into her brain. Maybe she needed to get out more.
Before she could dwell on it further, the bell chimed again as the door swung open.
An elderly woman stepped inside, her purse tucked neatly in the crook of her arm, her eyes bright and curious as they swept over the bakery before landing on the man behind the counter.
"Hello, James," she said warmly.
James.
The name registered in her mind with a small jolt of surprise. She hadn't even known his actual name.
"Dottie," he replied, his tone respectful but still that same low, reserved rumble. He was in the middle of folding down the top of her paper bag, his thick fingers applying pressure as he creased the edge.
He glanced at her. "Anything else?"
She hesitated, glancing back at the display case. Before she could answer, the elder woman turned her attention to her, a friendly smile already spreading across her face.
"Hi, dear. I'm Dotty," she said, her voice warm and welcoming. "And you are...?"
"Oh, um-" She gave her name, offering a small smile.
Behind the counter, Bucky's hands stilled for just a fraction of a second before resuming their work, his gaze fixed firmly on the paper bag.
Dotty's eyes swept over her -the dusty joggers, the faded t-shirt, the messy hair, the hardware shop’s bounty-, taking it all in. "You look busy. Are you the one who moved to River Street?"
"Yeah, that's me," she confirmed.
His eyes flicked up briefly -quick, almost involuntary- before dropping back down.
Dotty's smile widened. "Well, that's close by." She glanced toward Bucky with a knowing look. "James, looks like you've got yourself a new regular customer."
Bucky didn't respond, clenching his jaw slightly as he focused intently on smoothing out a wrinkle in the paper bag that didn't exist. His shoulders had gone just a bit more rigid.
Dotty turned back to her, undeterred. "So tell me, dear, what do you like better, sweet or savory?"
"Uh, savory, I guess," she said, a little caught off guard by the rapid-fire questioning.
Behind the counter, his fingers flexed slightly around the edge of the bag.
"Oh, perfect!" Dotty clapped her hands together lightly. "Then you're going to love those danishes filled with ham and cheese." She gestured toward the display case with a flourish.
Her eyebrows lifted in genuine interest. "That sounds really good, actually."
She turned to James. "I'll take one of those too."
He nodded once, his movements careful as he reached for the tongs and maneuvered one of the danishes from the case. His gaze stayed fixed on his task, deliberately avoiding both of them.
"You know," Dotty said conversationally, her tone deceptively casual, "James here is single."
The danish slipped from his grip.
Bucky caught it at the last second, his grip harder around the tongs as he shoved it into a small bag with more force than necessary. His ears were already turning red as he turned sharply toward the register, his shoulders hunched forward like he was trying to make himself smaller.
Dotty leaned in slightly, completely unbothered by his reaction, raising her eyebrows with a conspiratorial air. "I don't want to assume, but folks say you moved here alone."
His hand froze on the register keys for a moment.
She didn't notice; her attention was still on Dotty, who was looking at her expectantly.
"I uh- yes, I came alone," she confirmed, feeling slightly like she was being interrogated, albeit in the friendliest possible way.
Dotty's eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "Well, handsome as James is, he's not one for going out much." She let out a little giggle, clearly enjoying herself. "But if you like socializing a bit, there are plenty of men around here who definitely do go out. Fridays at... oh, what's it called now... it used to be The Clam... ah! Pink Valhalla. That's it. About four blocks from here."
She blinked, trying to process the sudden information dump. Pink Valhalla? The Clam? Her brain was still catching up when-
Behind the counter, Bucky's fingers punched the register keys with just a bit more force than necessary, the loud beep beep cutting through Dotty's cheerful rambling.
He called out the total, his voice a little rougher than before.
She excused herself from Dotty with a polite smile and stepped up to the register, digging into her pocket for cash. As she handed it over, she murmured, "Have you been there?"
He glanced up briefly. "Hm?"
"Pink Valhalla."
"A couple times," he said, his hand already moving to the register to get her change. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, his gaze dropping. "Not really my thing."
Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out of her lips. "And what is your thing?"
His eyes snapped to hers, caught off guard.
She realized how that sounded and quickly added, "I don't know anything around here yet. It's good to know the options."
He looked at her for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable passing through his expression, before his gaze landed on the bags of her purchases sitting on the counter.
"Will's," he said finally. "On Second Street. It's just... a bar. Nothing much to do."
There was something almost careful about the way he said it, like he was testing the waters without committing to anything.
She nodded, grabbing her bags. "Noted."
With a small wave toward Dotty, she headed for the door, the bell chiming as she left.
The silence that followed felt heavy.
Dotty approached the counter with a little smile playing on her lips, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
"Don't do that again," Bucky said flatly, not looking at her as he started wiping crumbs off the counter.
"Do what?" Dotty asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.
He lifted an eyebrow, finally meeting her gaze, and sighed.
The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly, the way it always did around the older folks in town. With them, he didn't have to measure his words so carefully, didn't have to navigate the exhausting dance of small talk and social niceties. They'd known him since he was a kid trailing after his grandfather, and they treated him like one of their own.
"You think you were subtle," he said, his tone dry. "You weren't."
Dotty's smile widened. "I didn't want to be subtle." She leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. "C'mon, James. When was the last time you gave your sheets some spinning and it wasn't because of the washing machine?"
Bucky's face went blank for a split second before he shook his head. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that." He reached under the counter and pulled out a bag he'd already prepared for her. "And you're just gonna take your things-" he lifted the bag pointedly, " and go mind your business. Like maybe checking if Graham can still get it up."
She let out a bark of laughter, completely unbothered. "Oh, honey, Graham's 80 this year, has been using those little blue pills for a long time now. Nothing to check there."
Bucky's lips twitched despite himself. "Too much information, Dotty."
"You asked," she said sweetly, taking the bag from him. She paused, her expression softening just slightly. "She seems nice, James. And new in town. Could use a friendly face."
He didn't respond, just turned back to the counter, his jaw working.
She patted his hand once, gentle but firm. "Just think about it."
The bell chimed as she left, and Bucky stood there in the quiet bakery, staring at the door.
----
River Street.
She lived on River Street. If he recalled right, the house they talked about was... what, one block away? Close enough that she probably would keep coming back.
Came alone.
No boyfriend. No husband. No... anyone. Aparently.
He straightened, grabbing the pink rag to wipe down a counter that was already clean.
He shouldn't care. Didn't matter if she was single or not. It wasn't like he was in any position to do anything about it, even if it did matter.
Except Dotty's voice kept echoing in his head, that pointed little jab about his sheets and washing machines, and he hated that it landed.
It had been a long time. Too long, probably. Long enough since he didn't let himself notice people that way. It was easier when he kept his head down, stayed in his lane, and didn't let anyone get close enough to ask questions he didn't want to answer.
And then she walked in with her dust-covered joggers and her easy smile, defending his palmiers to that town council’s asshole like it was the most natural thing in the world, and suddenly he was noticing again.
Noticing the curve of her lips when she laughed at her own joke. Noticing the self-consciousness in her voice when she'd said that thing about not having to worry about smelling like garlic.
His eyes had dropped to her mouth before he could stop himself. Just for a second. Just long enough to wonder what she'd taste like if-
He tried to brush it off, but his brain had snagged on it anyway. On the image of her, close enough for it to matter. Close enough to smell anything.
He tossed the rag aside and scrubbed a hand over his face.
What is your thing?
The question had caught him completely off guard. He'd fumbled it and given her the most boring answer possible, Will's, a dive bar where he occasionally nursed a beer in the corner and avoided conversation. Really exciting.
But the way she'd asked it, like she actually wanted to know, like she was filing the information away for later...
He shook his head sharply, turning toward the back room.
This was stupid. She was being friendly, trying to make conversation after Dottie opened a topic. New in town and trying to get her bearings. Nothing more.
And even if it was more -which it wasn't- what the hell was he supposed to do about it? Walk up to her house with a premade pizza since she seemed to like them and say, Hey, I'm the guy who can't hold a conversation for longer than thirty seconds, want to grab a drink sometime?
That'd go great.
His left arm gave a dull throb, and he flexed his fingers absently. He should focus on prep for tomorrow. Check the starter, portion the dough, and get the oven ready for the morning bake.
But his mind kept drifting back to her.
To the way she'd tilted her head, curiously, when Dotty mentioned the pub, and that made his stomach churn a little. To the fact that she now knew his name was James, even though nobody called him that except the older folks in town.
Handsome as James is.
He grimaced. Dotty had really gone for it, hadn't she? Might as well have handed over his goddamn résumé.
The worst part? She hadn't seemed put off by it. Hadn't laughed or made some excuse to leave. She'd just... rolled with it. Asked him about going to Pink Valhalla like it was a normal question and not Dotty's blatant attempt at matchmaking.
He leaned against the doorframe, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow.
He'd slipped some extra breadsticks into her bag before the old lady came in, as a thanks for stepping out for the palmiers. But now, she was going to notice. She was going to open the bag at home and realize he'd given her more than she paid for and maybe think he did it after Dotty announced he was alone.
His stomach twisted at the thought. Equal parts dread and something else he didn't want to name.
Should've just kept it professional.
But he hadn't.
And now he was wondering if she'd smile about it, or if she'd think he was flirting with her, like some awkward creep that didn't know how to interact like a normal person.
Which, to be fair, he was.
He exhaled through his nose and grabbed his apron from the hook, tying it around his once slender waist with sharp, decisive movements. He had work to do. That's what mattered. Not some woman with dusty joggers who happened to know about laminated dough.
Even if she did have a nice smile.
Even if he'd already started hoping she'd come back.
Summary: Bucky comes back from a mission and gets a full service.
note: Day seventeen of Kinktober 2025. The prompt was Service Kink.
Word count: 1.2k
Kinktober Masterlist
Bucky woke to the smell of coffee and something sweet, pancakes, maybe. For a second, his body tensed, and the instinct to assess threats kicked in before his brain caught up where he was. Then he remembered: home. Her.
He sat up slowly and his shoulders protested. The mission had been a shitshow, three days in Eastern Europe tracking down remnants of a HYDRA cell that should've been dead and buried decades ago. The irony wasn't lost on him. The government mandated therapy, check-ins, a laundry list of requirements to keep him out of a cell, but they had no problem sending him right back into the field when it suited them. And now, he has to crawl out of bed because of course, they want a fucking debrief first thing in the morning.
He pulled on sweatpants and shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep.
She was at the stove, her back to him, wearing one of his t-shirts, humming something under her breath. The table was already set: pancakes stacked high, eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, orange juice, coffee. It looked like something out of a magazine. It looked like way too much effort for six in the morning.
"Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
She turned, and her whole face lit up like he'd just brought her the sun. "Hi honey, I was starting to think I'd have to come drag you out of bed." She set down the spatula and met him halfway across the kitchen.
He pulled her into his arms, cupping the back of her head with one hand as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Missed you," he murmured, breathing her in.
"Missed you more." She pulled back just enough to brush her thumbs over his cheekbones as she studied him like she was cataloging every detail. "Are you okay? Any injuries I should know about?"
"Nothing serious. I'm fine now." He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth, soft and unhurried. "Especially now."
She smiled against his lips. "Aren’t you a charmer, sarge. Now sit, please. eat before it gets cold. You must be starving."
He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he sat down and started eating. The pancakes were perfect, fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness. He went through them like a man who didn't know when his next meal would be, which, old habits and all that.
She sat across from him with her own plate and her coffee, watching him with that soft expression that still made his chest clench even after a year together.
"Good?" she asked, propping her chin on her hand.
"Perfect." He reached across the table to lace his fingers with hers.
She squeezed his hand. "Flatterer."
"Just honest." He paused, fork halfway to his mouth, noticing the faint shadows under her eyes. "You didn't have to do all this, though. Could've slept in."
"I wanted to," she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I like taking care of you."
He finished the last of his coffee and started to stand, reaching for his plate and hers. "Let me at least help clean-"
The movement pulled something in his lower back, and he hissed through his teeth, freezing halfway out of his chair.
"Okay, that's it." she announced, her tone instantly shifting to a soft command. She was up and around the table before he could blink, pressing her hands gently but firmly on his shoulders, guiding him. "Living room. Now."
"I'm fine, it's just-"
"Bucky." She gave him that look, the one that said she wasn't budging. "Living room. Couch. Sit."
He knew better than to argue when she used that tone. She steered him toward the couch, and he went, feeling a little like a kid being sent to timeout. Except instead of punishment, she disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a bottle of oil he'd never seen before and a couple of towels.
"What's that?"
"Lavender and chamomile massage oil." She set everything down on the coffee table and turned to him with a satisfied smile. "I've been waiting to try it. Take your shirt off."
"Doll-" He caught her hand, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. He could see it now in the morning light, the exhaustion she was trying to hide. "You stayed up waiting for me last night, didn't you?"
She didn't deny it. "I dozed off around two."
"And then woke up at what, five? To make breakfast?" He tugged her closer gently, looking up at her. "You're tired. We should just... watch something. Or go back together to bed until I go."
"You don't want a massage?"
"I-" He ran his free hand through his hair. "You should rest. I'm fine."
"Your back just spasmed picking up a plate."
"It’s nothing."
She raised an eyebrow.
He sighed, trying a different angle. "Look, I just... you should be resting, not taking care of me."
"Bucky, you just came home from a mission. If it's not a problem for me, it shouldn't be a problem for you." She said it matter-of-factly, but there was something underneath, something that made him pause.
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
He looked down at their joined hands. "Sometimes I feel like I'm taking advantage of you. Like I don't deserve-" He gestured vaguely at the kitchen, at the oil on the table, at her standing there looking at him like he hung the moon. "All this. Everything you do for me."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she sank down onto the couch beside him, turning to face him fully. "Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
"Taking care of you makes me happy." She said it simply, no hesitation. "Like, genuinely happy. When I'm making you breakfast or doing your laundry or rubbing your shoulders after a long day, I feel good. Useful. Like I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing."
"But you shouldn't have to-"
"It's not about 'have to,' Buck." She squeezed his hand. "It's about want to. Need to, even." She paused, searching for the right words. "You've been through so much. More than anyone should ever have to go through. And I can't fix that, can't take it away, but I can do this. I can make sure you eat good food and sleep in clean sheets and come home to someone who gives a damn. And that feels right to me."
His throat felt tight. "I just don't want you to burn yourself out for me."
She lifted her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, right over his heart. "Honey," she said, her voice dropping to a low, firm register, "if I didn't want to, you couldn't pay me to get up at five a.m. to make pancakes. Trust me when I tell you this is something I need to do. "Let me decide what's too much, okay?" She reached up, cupping his face the way she had in the kitchen. "If I'm tired, I'll rest. If I need help, I'll ask."
He studied her face, the honesty there, the softness, the stubborn glint in her eyes that told him she wasn't going to let this go.
He was quiet for a long moment, then he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Okay."
Her smile was brilliant. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He shifted on the couch, giving her access to his back. "Just... promise me if you get tired, you'll stop."
"Promise." She kissed his shoulder blade, soft and sweet. "Now relax. Let me take care of you."
She poured oil into her palms, warming it between her hands before placing them on his shoulders. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the space between them, soft and calming.
"Jesus," he muttered as her thumbs dug into the knot at the base of his neck.
"Told you." Her voice was warm with affection. "You're so tense. When's the last time you actually relaxed?"
He didn't answer because he didn't have one. Instead, he let his head drop forward, giving her better access.
She worked methodically, finding every tight spot easily. Her hands were firm when they needed to be, gentler when they moved over the scars that webbed across his shoulder, the ones that still pulled sometimes, reminders of tables and laboratories and things he tried not to think about.
But then her touch changed. Her fingers traced along his spine, feather-light, no therapeutic purpose to it at all. Just touching him because she wanted to. Because she could.
His shoulders started to drop, the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.
"There you go," she murmured, working down either side of his spine. "Just breathe."
He did. Slow and steady, letting himself sink into the feeling of having her hands on him, the care in every movement. When she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, just below his hairline, he moaned.
"You're too good to me," he said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.
"Nope. Just the right amount of good." Another kiss, this one at the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Then her hands were back to work, kneading the muscles along his shoulder blades.
"Lie down on your stomach. I want to get your lower back."
He shifted, stretching out on the couch with his arms folded under his head. The position left him vulnerable -face down, unable to see what was happening behind him- but he didn't feel that familiar spike of anxiety.
He trusted her. Completely.
She shifted, and he felt the couch dip as she straddled him, settling her weight on his ass. It wasn't strictly necessary for a massage -he knew that, she probably knew he knew that- but he wasn't about to say a damn word about it. Not when it felt this good.
Her hands pressed into his lower back, working out the knot that had made him hiss earlier. He groaned into his forearms.
"That's it," she said, her voice low and pleased. "Let it out."
She worked the muscle until it released, then her hands slid up his sides, tracing the lines of his ribs before coming back down. The oil made her touch slick and warm.
"You're so beautiful, you know that?" she murmured, her palms flat against his back, sliding up toward his shoulders.
Heat crept up his neck. "Stop."
"I'm serious." Her fingers traced the edge of a scar, then another. "Gorgeous. Every inch of you."
"You're biased."
"Mm, maybe." He could hear the smile in her voice. She leaned forward, pressing her body against his back as she worked his shoulders again from this new angle. Her breath was warm against his ear. "Doesn't make it less true."
He turned his face into his arm, hiding the flush he knew was spreading across his face. He didn't believe her, couldn't quite make himself believe that someone could look at him, at all his damage and scars, and see something worth that kind of softness.
But she did. And she kept saying it, kept touching him like he was something precious, and he let her. Let himself be vulnerable in a way that would've been unthinkable a year ago.
Her hands moved lower again, working down his spine with long, sure strokes. Then lower still, kneading the muscles just above his hips in a way that made him exhale hard.
"Feel good?" she asked, and there was something different in her voice now. Something warmer.
"Yeah," he managed. "Really good."
"Good." She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, lingering. "You deserve to feel good."
Her hands moved lower, fingers digging into the muscles of his ass with the same thorough attention she'd given the rest of him.
"Really?" he said, but there was no heat in it. If anything, he sounded amused.
"What?" Her thumbs worked into a knot near his hip. "They're muscles too."
"Uh-huh."
"Very important muscles." She was definitely smiling now. "You want me to skip them? Do a half-assed job?"
He snorted into his arms. "Did you just-"
"I did." She sounded entirely too pleased with herself.
Her hands became completely possessive, cupping his firm buttocks with confident pressure. She squeezed the muscle, lifting his weight for an instant from the cushion, and then kneaded the area with the heel of her palm, searching for the deep line where the glute met his thigh.
Her total focus on that part of his body was too much, and he couldn't stop the small, involuntary grinding of his hips against the sofa, a muffled, desperate attempt to seek friction. "Fuck," he muttered, the word choked and strained in his forearms.
She finished with his glutes -because they were muscles, apparently- and then shifted her weight, moving down to sit beside his legs on the couch. Her hands slid down to his thighs, still slick with oil.
"Everything okay?" she asked, softer now.
"Yeah." His voice was muffled by his arms, relaxed in a way he couldn't remember being in... he didn't know how long. "More than okay."
"Good." Her hands worked down his right thigh, finding tension he hadn't even realized was there. Then back up, slow and deliberate. "Just keep relaxing. I've got you."
Once she’d taken care of the back of his legs, she gave his ass a soft, playful pat.
“Turn over,” she murmured.
He lifted his head, glancing back at her over his shoulder. There was something in her expression -something heated and intent- that made his cock twitch.
"Yeah?" His voice came out rougher than he meant.
"Yeah."
He rolled onto his back, suddenly very aware of how relaxed he'd gotten, how good he felt, how her touch had been both innocent and not for the past twenty minutes.
"Comfortable?" she asked.
"Very."
"Good." Her hands settled on his left calf, working the muscle there with the same care she'd given everything else. Then up to his knee, his thigh. The oil made her touch slick and warm, and he could feel his body responding, the relaxation shifting into something else entirely.
She worked her way up slowly, methodically, like she had all the time in the world. When her hands reached the top of his thigh, her fingers brushed against the inside, close enough to the edge of his sweatpants that his breath hitched.
Her eyes flicked up to his face, a small smile playing at her lips. "Still okay?"
"Yeah." It came out strained.
She switched to his right leg, starting back at the ankle and working her way up with the same maddening patience. Up his calf, over his knee, along his thigh. And then higher, her hand sliding up the inside of his leg until it wasn't his femoral muscle she was touching at all.
She didn't seem surprised to find him hard.
"Looks like you're feeling better," she murmured, pressing her palm against him through the fabric.
He exhaled hard, slightly lifting his hips into her touch before he could stop himself. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. "Lift up a little more for me."
He did, and she pulled them down along with his boxers, freeing him. The cool air hit his flushed, throbbing skin for barely a second before her oil-slicked hand wrapped around him, warm and sure.
"Fuck," he breathed, his head falling back against the couch.
"Just relax," she said, echoing her earlier words, but the context was entirely different now. "Let me take care of you."
Her hand moved in slow, firm strokes, with the pressure she knew he liked. She watched his face as she worked him, taking in every reaction, the way his jaw clenched, the way his breathing went shallow, the way his hand gripped the couch cushions like he needed something to hold onto.
"You're so pretty like this," she murmured. "All relaxed and letting me do whatever I want."
"Jesus-" He tried to form a coherent thought and failed. "You can't just say things like that."
"Why not? It's true." Her thumb swept over the head of his cock, spreading the oil and precum, and he groaned. "I love seeing you like this. Knowing I'm the one making you feel good."
His metal hand came up to cover his face. He was flushed, she could see it spreading down his neck, across his chest.
"Don't hide," she said softly, her free hand catching his wrist and gently pulling it away. "I want to see you."
He lowered his hand slowly, meeting her eyes. The vulnerability there -the trust- made her chest tighten.
"That's it, babe," she said softly.
Before he could respond, she leaned down and replaced her hand with her mouth.
"Shit-" His whole body jerked, one hand flying to fist her hair. Not pushing, not pulling, touching her, to ground himself and sink in the reality of what she was doing.
It always threw him off balance, this. It wasn't something that happened much back in the '40s. A quick fumble in the dark, maybe, if a girl was feeling adventurous, but never like this. Never with this kind of deliberate attention, this absolute, focused service. Part of him still thought of it as something that lowered her somehow, put her in a position she shouldn't be in.
But his body didn't care about his outdated hang-ups. His body responded instantly to the wet heat of her mouth, the way her lips sealed precisely around the sensitive head of his cock, isolating the most responsive part.
"You don't have to-" he started, the words wrecked by a sound half-protest, half-plea.
She pulled off just long enough to look up at him, her oil-slicked hand still working him slowly and confidently. "I want to. Remember?" Her tongue traced along the underside of his glans, and his hips bucked, a desperate, involuntary motion. "This is for me too. My pleasure is serving you."
She knew exactly what he liked. A year together and she'd learned that he didn't need her to take him deep, didn't want that kind of performance. This, her mouth on just the tip, sucking and licking while her slick hands worked the rest of his shaft, undid him completely.
Because as much as his old-fashioned brain tried to tell him it degraded her, there was something about this that made it explicitly clear what was going to happen. She was going to drink everything he gave her until the last drop, and that knowledge alone made him almost cum at the second suckle. It wasn't just acceptance; it was a feeding, hungry lips working a fucking bottle. He felt his body clench, pulled by the forbidden thrill -the realization that his orgasm would be her final, greedy reward.
"Doll-" His voice was strained, his fingers tightening in her hair. "I'm not gonna last-"
She gave him a low, greedy hum of acknowledgment, right where it counted, but didn't pull away. If anything, her hands moved faster, her mouth sucked with more purpose, the wet sound of her nursing becoming the only thing Bucky could hear.
"You don't get to decide when it stops," she whispered against him, pulling back just enough to utter the command before going back to her ministrations.
That final, raw assertion of her control -the denial of his agency- was the breaking point. It was the absolute, forbidden thrill he had been fighting and yearning for. His body seized. With a ragged, guttural moan of defeat and pleasure that barely left his lips, his back arched violently off the couch. His shaft pulled violently in her hand and mouth, thick, hot, almost endless load down her throat.
But she wasn't done. Oh, hell no.
As the main spasms faded, and he slumped back, thinking it was over, she kept going. She took the last,humiliating bits of seed from his sensitive slit, making sure he was squeezed completely dry. Every last fucking drop.
His body arched violently against her mouth again, a final, unexpected tremor of pleasure.
He tried to speak, his voice thick and wrecked: "Damn, sweetheart, that's-"
The words failed him. He couldn't articulate the gratitude and the crushing shame of being so thoroughly emptied. His old self wouldn’t believe he was going to get his lady to do something like this to him.
As she let go, he was still trying to remember how to breathe.
"Don't move," she said softly, pressing a quick kiss to his hip before standing. "I'll be right back."
He watched her disappear into the bathroom and heard the water running. His whole body felt loose and heavy, boneless in a way that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with her doing. The flush was still hot on his face, spreading down his chest.
She came back with a warm, damp washcloth and cleaned him up tenderly. He hissed and bucked his hip when she patted his underside.
“Are you ok?” she asked, tossing the washcloth aside and helping him pull his sweatpants back up.
"Yeah." His voice was still rough. "More than okay."
She settled onto the couch beside him, and he immediately pulled her into his side, needing her close. She melted into him easily, her head on his chest, one hand resting over his heart.
They stayed like that for a while, quiet except for their breathing and the distant sound of rain still coming down outside.
His brain was slowly coming back online, blood returning to his head, and with it came the thought: He needed to do something for her. She'd been up early, made him breakfast, given him the best massage of his life, and then-
His face heated again just thinking about it.
"You're blushing," she said, tilting her head to look up at him with a knowing smile.
“It’s your imagination.”
“Oh really? Doesn’t have anything to do with-”
He cut her off with a slow, deep kiss, pouring into it everything he couldn’t quite put into words: Thank you. I love you. You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll try like hell to.
When they finally pulled back, he kept her close. After a moment, he finally broke the silence, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I feel like a selfish bastard."
She tilted her head, looking up at him with honest eyes. "Why?"
"Look at you," he gestured vaguely toward her. "You stayed up half the night, woke up at five, cooked enough food for a platoon, and I let you… I let you do all that. And then I just lay here and took from you. I didn't even-" He broke off, unable to finish the thought: I didn't even get to satisfy you properly.
She reached up, cupping his jaw and forcing him to meet her gaze. The expression was all business, no softness this time. "Listen to me, Buck. I’m going to be blunt here because you don’t seem to get it if I’m not.” She took a breath, feeling hot on her cheeks. “I get off servicing you.”
She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, and her expression softened. "Don't you dare ruin that for me by bringing guilt into it. In fact, “she murmured, leaning in until her nose brushed the corner of his mouth, I think your enhanced senses can probably smell what you're going to find inside my panties if you touch me now. The body doesn’t lie,” she teased, nipping softly at his stubble.
He swallowed hard, the words catching before they made it out. “You-” His voice came out rough, broken halfway between remaining restraint and need. He tried again, a low rasp this time. “You talk too damn much.” His hand slid up her thigh, firm now, and in a single shift of his weight, he turned, rolling her beneath him. He leaned until his lips were against her ear, jaw tense, brushing her skin when he murmured, “My turn now, sugar.”
Thinking about the slight curve of fat on his hips when his belt is too tight. The soft thickness of his chest.
His big fucking thighs. Thinking about leaving teeth marks on the fat, thick fucking swell of his thighs.
The strong muscles rippling beneath it all, but he just can’t seem to shed that extra layer on top.
Maybe he’s self conscious about it, maybe it makes him blush and squirm when his partner drags their hands over his body, squeezing the curve of his waist.
He’s so tall, so strong, and so pretty with that extra little bit making him look that much bigger. I’d fucking chew on his hips istg, or his big ass bicep, or the curve of his peck, or that soft layer over his strong abs.
Point is, I’d leave teeth marks all over than man’s body. He’s so pretty and so handsome and oh my god I CANT DO THIS
I just wanna kiss him he’s so pretty :(((( ugh and don’t even mention the pretty fullness of his face.
pairing: (ex)boyfriend’s dad!bucky barnes x female!reader
summary: you catch your boyfriend having sex with another girl at your neighbour’s halloween party. bucky barnes, his hot and caring dad, comforts you.
warnings: second person (she/her pronouns for reader); mentions of reader's family; original characters; boyfriend’s dad!bucky; age gap (reader’s in her 20s; bucky's 40+); cheating; light angst; hurt/comfort; swearing; smut; size difference; kind of dom!bucky; slightly possessive!bucky; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls); rough sex.
word count: over 12k (sorry)
a/n: happy halloween 🎃 hope you're all doing good! if you want to read more about these two, you can find raw & older christmas themed one-shot here!
ps: see end notes for more info about this series!
The retail store is too bright and colorful compared to the stormy sky outside.
You and your friends have been coming here to buy toys and Halloween costumes since you were in middle school, when Yelena’s older sister used to chauffeur you all around, since she was the only one old enough to drive. Each Halloween, you and your friends planned a big sleepover: a whole night spent watching mildly scary movies, gossiping about the cutest guys in town, and eating junk food until you all got a stomachache.
Throughout high school, your older neighbor's extravagant Halloween party, hosted in her huge mansion, started to be the talk of the town. You didn’t consider yourself much of a party girl, yet you agreed to show up with your friends just for the chance to dress up and flaunt around your elaborated costumes.
When college began, you four enrolled in different universities all over the state. Almost a year slipped by since the last time you hugged, laughed and shared the same space, until you all agreed to meet this Halloween; it would probably be the last time before graduation, since you are all busy with your own studies, hence you are ready to make the most out of these three days together.
The store looks exactly the same as it did ten years ago: fake cobwebs dangling from the white ceiling, evil-looking pumpkins staring down customers from the shelves, racks of masks and toys that in the past seemed endless. Now, you swear everything looks much smaller than it used to be. Though the air still smells of dust and cheap plastic; strangely, it's that weird chemical tang coming from the latex masks hung on the sides that makes this place so familiar.
The first room is completely dedicated to rows and rows of toys for kids, while the second– which is normally a storage room, is full of costumes and accessories messily arranged. From the ceiling, a dozen paper bats sway, sluggishly spinning in the cold wind leaking in from the old windows. Somewhere on the counter, a motion-sensor witch embraces a plastic pumpkin-shaped bowl full of sweets, laughing like a banshee every time someone tries to take a candy. The sagging, orange letters reading HAPPY HALLOWEEN hang in front of the counter, and you’re pretty sure the owner has been leaving it there all year round since you were little.
The store certainly looked scarier when you were younger. Now, it seems like the kind of place that tries too hard to be fun and spooky at the same time, but ends up appearing quite goofy and messy.
A frowning Wanda browses through angel wings and synthetic, lavish princess robes to find something less glittery and more gothic; while Yelena attempts to give you a heart attack by hovering behind you with different clown masks on. Kate is set to find a Wednesday Addams costume, being obsessed with the homonymous show lately. You already have an outfit at home: a short skirt and a lace top paired with sparkling boots, the colors being an homage to your favorite Barbie doll. You're still bitter about how you couldn't attend Rachel's Halloween party in senior year because of fucking chickenpox that you caught from Kate. That time you had planned to dress up as your favorite Barbie; you had everything ready, that costume was flawless. Yet you ended up in your fleece pajamas under the covers, peeking from behind your pillow at Art the Clown mauling people, while the muffled music coming from the neighboring mansion made your walls literally vibrate.
Still, you decided to tag along for old time's sake. It’s fun to check out different costumes, and maybe you’ll find some accessories to add to your own.
“Black or maroon?” Wanda lifts two identical dresses but in different shades. Kate hums, absently twirling a wig in her hands as she examines the fabrics.
“Black.”
“Hm, maroon is better. It suits the color of her hair.” You answer without looking, scrutinizing a bloody lab coat before placing it back on the rack with a grimace.
“Yelena?” Wanda turns towards the blonde, busy trying to stab her own finger with a fake knife to test its sharpening.
“Is that even a question? You are obsessed with red and all its shade.”
“Yeah, but this dress looks cute in both colors.” Her eyes move from one robe to the other, before putting the black one back at its place. “Alright, I’m done. Have you found anything interesting yet?”
“I can’t believe they don’t have a Wednesday costume, it’s one of the most popular shows ever.” Kate huffs out, quickly going through the plastic bags for the third time.
“You know online shopping is a thing, right?” Yelena quips, throwing the knife back into the display bin. “Or just buy a black dress with a white collar.”
“But I wanted the school uniform.” Yelena rolls her eyes, already tinkering with a pair of popping eye glasses.
“Hey, is Nathan coming?” You startle a little, not expecting Wanda so close to your side. You turn towards her, holding some fake vampire teeth.
“Yep, he’ll get here just in time for the party.” A disgusted ugh echoes behind you, and a small smile takes over your face.
It’s not a secret that Yelena can’t stand your boyfriend of two years, Nathan Barnes. They met only once, and he immediately caught on to her displeasure. He tried to get the reason out of you, although you always pretended to not know why, stating that your friend's just like that. In truth, you knew very well why every word he speaks sounds like a fork scraping a plate to her. Throughout the first months of your budding relationship, he used to disappear a lot, ghosting your texts only to return with grand gestures after a week. It confused you a lot, and Yelena in particular spent hours on the phone trying to calm you down, warning you about his unreliability. It was weird, and for a while you thought he simply liked to fool around with girls, the kind that would ditch the current "old toy" for a new, shiny one.
After a few months of uncertainty, he surprised you out of nowhere just before Christmas. He appeared on the doorstep of your dorm room, apologizing and explaining with great shame his parents’ relationship. He didn’t reveal much, especially why they have been divorced for over ten years, just that the situation had become unbearable, too toxic, and he never really grew up valuing commitment. However, Nathan claimed to like you a lot, and wished to pursue something serious with you.
Yelena was pissed off, she couldn't believe you left him off the hook so easily. There was little to no groveling, which in her opinion had to be the bare minimum after the emotional rollercoaster he put you through. She knows in her heart he is going to hurt you badly someday. The last thing your friend wants is to see you miserable, especially for a dumbass like him. Yet, she doesn’t trust Nathan one bit, and she made it pretty clear when you announced you started dating seriously. You know Yelena is very stubborn and you can’t blame her for having such strong opinions about him; she was the one comforting you throughout the white nights spent wondering why Nathan withdrew all of a sudden, when everything was going so well. And it’s not like she spends every second berating him; if you’re talking about him, she allows herself a few sarcastic comments that actually make you giggle as well, but that's all.
“Oh, so Casper finally made the effort to join you.” That’s another thing, she won’t call him by his name. When you were busy crying over him, she would use different funny nicknames to make you laugh. Casper is a new one, inspired by the fact that he's been very busy with his studies you barely see him.
“His teachers are giving him hell, cut him some slack, Lena. He’s always locked up in the library with his classmates for assignments and group projects.” Wanda eyes you with sympathy, nodding along each sentence. “I always tell him to text me when he gets home, but he’s so exhausted he forgets. The few times he remembers it’s like two, three in the morning.” Your attempt to justify his behavior makes Yelena raises her eyebrows, but for once she decides to not fire back, simply shaking her head with a tired half-smile.
You and Nathan met at the beginning of your first academic year. He and his dad had just moved to your hometown; apparently, his father had enough of chaotic metropolis and decided to start working from home. Home being his mother’s hometown, which his father met in the summer while visiting his relatives. When Nathan’s grandparents got married, they moved to New York and never came back.
Therefore, Nathan, who told you he’s been living with his dad since the divorce, enrolled in the nearest university to stay close to him. Since you’ve been going steady, you started traveling together; after all, he had a shiny, fully functioning car– unlike you. And that’s when he finally introduced you to his dad, James Buchanan Barnes.
Now, Nathan is very handsome, and after meeting Mr. Barnes you can definitely see why. Though, the older Barnes is on another level. For starters, he’s not just handsome. The man is hot. Yes, he might have a few tuffs of white hair in his beard. Yes, crow’s feet appear every time his gorgeous smile brightens his face… But they’re just little details that at the end of they day add to his charm.
He’s big, so much bigger than you, in terms of height and muscles. And he’s a fucking gentleman. Whenever you stay over for either lunch or dinner, he always serves you first; he categorically refuses to let you do anything, stating that his son is old enough to clean after himself.
The first time he pulled out the table chair for you, your heart dropped to your stomach.
You swear he came straight off from a different era, and not in a bad way! He’s very caring and soft-spoken, but rigorous when needed, especially when Nathan argues with him for stupid stuff.
Since last spring, your boyfriend has been buried in projects and assignments, therefore you've often gone back home alone. Mr. Barnes– or well, Bucky, as he insists you call him, met you at the local supermarket one day and after his usual warm greeting, he encouraged you to come by and say hi.
“Even if Nathan isn’t home, it doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”
Despite your nervousness, you went over more times than you want to admit. Mr. Barnes is a pleasant man to be around, and often your conversations range from ridiculous memes he can’t understand to serious topics concerning today’s society. Many times you find yourself confiding your problems to him, and no matter what it is, he seems to always know what to say to soothe you. Most importantly, he speaks and treats you like the adult that you are. It’s like he doesn’t even notice the age difference between you two, also completely disregarding the fact that you are his son’s girlfriend, since he considers you a friend.
It’s almost mortifying if you reflect about Mr. Barnes being there for you more than your actual boyfriend. Nathan often replies so late, apologizing because of a group project that completely took over his mind, or because his friends– which he claims to see even less than you, had finally succeeded in dragging him out of the university library for a drink. More often than not he brushes aside your texts asking about his papers, steering the conversation until he coaxes you to recount your day, before not replying for the next four hours.
Yes, you had some suspicions at first and that makes you quite ashamed now. You never told anyone, not even your friends, but you have actually gone to his faculty library to spy on him. Well, not really to spy. You just needed to make sure he was actually there studying. After you saw him neck deep in his books, you quickly left the area, not having the courage to text him back when he contacted you that same night to let you know he was home.
You feel even guiltier if you think about the many times your mind travelled to Mr. Barnes whenever you saw a cat meme, or simply because you needed an opinion on one of your assignments. He has always been there, even if he’s overwhelmed by emails and legal documents, he still finds the time to text an apology for his temporary inability to give you his full attention. You told him he didn’t need to do that; you know he’s busy, especially in the morning, so he doesn’t need to take even more time away from his job just to clarify he’s not ignoring you and will answer later. Of course he didn’t listen, still keeping the habit going.
During one of your weekly video calls with your friends, Kate asked you how Nathan was, noticing how she hasn’t been seeing him walk by in the background for a while. You explained how busy he's been with his studies and the conversation ended there.
Later, while talking about food, you mentioned how Mr. Barnes had suggested a new restaurant he was sure you would enjoy. You and your friends love to try new cuisines together, and Mr. Barnes had made it his task to recommend new establishments he went to with his colleagues, and friends. An unsettling silence fell upon your headphones, and that caused your eyes to move from the blanket you were knitting, landing on your friends' half-smug half-astonished faces. You dismissed their prying questions, making it clear that you just like to spend time with him since he’s very nice and funny to be around, but they still tease you about having a small crush on the older man.
The joke got out of hand when the week after, you inadvertently blurted out that the blanket you were working on was for Mr. Barnes– he discovered your little hobby and told you he would love to have something made by you. Yelena was over the moon, literally kneeling on the floor as she started begging you to fuck Nathan’s dad. Again, you awkwardly laughed it off while your cheeks heated up with shame. The urge to hide yourself under your bedsheets was so strong your hand raised reflexively to hang up.
Only when Wanda took the matter into her hands and declared that there was nothing wrong about you being friends with your incredibly hot sort of father-in-law, the weight on your chest eased a little.
You aren’t doing anything wrong, you're just two adults being friends, texting each other and enjoying a cup of tea together whenever you are in town. It just so happens he is your totally-not absent boyfriend’s dad.
You like Nathan, a lot. And he likes you as much. Life has just been life, and you’re sure everything is going to get back to normal once you both get that damn piece of paper in your hands. Every couple has its highs and lows.
It’s just a rough patch.
The walls of the lavish mansion rattle to the beat of the pulsing bass. This year your neighbor outdid herself, you have to admit that. Rachel was the ultimate popular girl; rich parents, cheer captain of the only high school in town, and glossy dark waves that every girl tried so bad to imitate. Everyone wanted to be her, but few had the privilege to sit at her table. She wasn’t the stereotypical mean girl, just very ambitious. And rich. Her pretty features sharpened since the last time you saw her, and after she successfully enrolled in one of the most prestigious law schools of the country, you and many others thought she would leave behind her days of immoderate drinking and absurdly wild parties.
Well, not really. The rumor of her renowned boisterous Halloween parties spread throughout the surrounding towns, until it became an unmissable event; so many people counted on her keeping the tradition up after finishing high school, and now she comes back every year, bringing along more and more people, to host the biggest party of the county.
One look at the claustrophobic living room now turned dance floor makes your lungs constrict, the strobe lights specifically added for the event definitely aren’t helping as the bright beams keep blinding you. Costumes blur together as you push through the crowd— a dozen demons, three cowboys, Rachel and her two best friends as the iconic Plastics. Every time you believe to have seen the flash of Nathan’s leather jacket, or the shape of his shoulders, it turns out to be someone else. He told you he didn’t have the time to think about a costume, so he simply gathered a leather biker jacket and some black trousers to pass as Danny Zuko from Grease. He got home around four, but you and your friends had already planned to spend the afternoon getting ready, so you agreed to meet at the party. He texted you an hour ago saying he had just parked, yet you haven’t caught a single glimpse of his dark hair yet.
Laughter ripples through Michael Jackson’s Thriller from a group of people you don’t recognize leaning against the kitchen counter; someone spills a drink right in front of you, almost splashing the dark liquid on your top. A group of guys holler like animals when one of them successfully completes a keg stand; if your temples weren’t pulsing with a raging headache, you would have bursted out laughing at the scene: six drunk guys wearing plastic bags with a cardboard attached to their front reading condom all hugging each other. Nathan would love it.
Right, Nathan. Where the fuck is he?
“Hey!” Your shoulders jump as your name is screamed over Disturbia, Yelena and Wanda suddenly appearing respectively at your right and left side.
“Oh, it’s you.” You sigh, half-relieved. They take you by the arms, steering you towards the open patio windows overlooking the huge backyard. “Have you seen Nathan?”
Your head sharply turns left as you walk by a group by the punch bowls, but it’s just a random guy dressed up in leather.
“Nope.” Yelena grumbles something else you don’t catch, but at that moment it doesn’t seem important. She has the tendency to mumble under her breath creative insults specifically tailored for him, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was complaining this time as well.
The cold air hits your bare limbs instantly as you cross the threshold; you shiver a little, before stopping short as soon as your heels touch the trim grass.
“Why are we here? I’m freezing and I need to find Nathan, he got here an hour ago and–”
“I’m so hungry!” Wanda jumps in, quickening her pace. “Aren’t you hungry? I’m literally starving– oh! They are grilling sausages! I’m craving hot dogs, do you want one too, honey? C’mon–”
“What’s gotten into you, Wan?” You chuckle confused, squinting at her as she keeps rambling about fucking sausages and ketchup. It’s a habit of hers you know very well, talking a mile a minute about random stuff when she’s nervous.
“Wanda stop for fuck’s sake.” Yelena plants her feet on the ground, turning to face your friend.
“What’s going on?” You ask, glancing back and forth between the two. They get into an intense stare off, as if they are having a conversation you are not privy to. “Did something happen?”
Wanda shakes her head, a tight smile sent your way. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. Let’s go eat something.” She tries to take your hand but you retreat enough to let her stop, turning towards a fuming Yelena.
“What’s going on, Lena?” Your blonde friend’s jaw clenches, before she glances back at Wanda’s suddenly serious face.
“There’s no need to make a scene right now, Lena.” Wanda hisses.
“There’s no need–” She sputters outraged. “This is fucking insane, what is your problem?” Wanda frowns, mouth open to say something that would undoubtedly set the blonde off, but you stop them by taking their wrists.
“Hey!” You bark, now worked up as well. “There’s no need to fight. Can you just explain what the hell is going on? I feel kind of left out right now.” Wanda tilts her head, silently begging Yelena with her eyes to stay silent.
“She deserves to know.” Yelena grits out.
“Not right now! It’s just going to destroy her.”
“So what? You think it’s going to get better the longer we wait?”
Their sharp voices attract the attention of a few people chatting on the patio, and Kate, who has been observing the scene from the door, tries to ease up the tension by making up something about a lost lipstick. Some raise their eyebrows skeptically but luckily they go back to their drinks, allowing Kate to sprint towards you.
The air suddenly feels heavier with something unsaid, goosebumps unexpectedly raising on the back of your neck. You can feel it’s something serious, yet nothing comes to mind that could have fueled this kind of reaction from them.
“Someone tell me what’s going on. Right. Now.” Your voice shakes a little, despite your best effort to sound calm. “Why are you fighting? Is Kate alright? Or did Nathan do something? Did you fight?” You urge Yelena, but she simply sighs, closing her eyes. No one answers for a while. The blonde presses her lips together, shaking her head as if she is trying to hold the truth in by force, and Wanda takes your hand again, regarding you with pleading eyes.
“It’s not about Kate, she is fine. We’ll explain later, okay? Let’s just enjoy the–”
“No.” You interrupt, yanking your wrist free. “Explain now.”
Yelena scowls, jaw set. “You’re just making it worse.”
Wanda’s auburn strands swing as her head sharply faces the Russian girl, her voice breaking with some repressed emotion. “We know you hate his guts, Lena. But could you please think about her wellbeing for just one second? We’re in the middle of a party, you’re trying to ruin her night!”
“Oh! I am trying to ruin her night? You are such a–”
“I saw Nathan upstairs making out with a girl!” A voice suddenly blurts out from behind you. The music is so loud you can hear its muffled rhythm booming in your ribcage, yet those words couldn’t be more crystal clear as they pierce through your brain.
Yelena and Wanda go abruptly still, all the agitation and disdain leaving their bodies as fast as they dragged you out here. When you turn around, you see Kate’s squirming form, her eyes wide as they watch you with something akin to desperation.
The ominous emptiness that you’ve been carrying around for the last hour in your stomach suddenly doesn’t feel so irrational.
“I–I’m so sorry.” Kate utters after a few moments of awkward silence, anxiously fiddling with her own fingers.
“Upstairs where?” You murmur, mouth suddenly running dry.
“In one of the bedrooms. The one closest to the bathroom.” She spills mortified, not able to look her friend in the eye.
The party noise dulls to a distant hum. Suddenly the colorful lights, the sharp laughters, the smell of beer and fake fog, they all feel unbearably heavy as you try to process those cruel words.
It happens in a rush. You push past Kate without thinking, dodging drunk students left and right; some stare at you with confusion, others wonder what got Barbie’s panties in a twist to shove past people so roughly. You can't even hear your friends calling your name, their footsteps quick as they chase your rapid form. Even the music doesn’t sound so thundering anymore.
You take a step forward, then another, each one heavier than the last. For a moment, the world… stops. It’s just you and the lump dangerously building in your throat.
You catch Yelena screaming your name as you forcefully burst in the room on the left of the bathroom. It’s dark, and the bed is intact. You don’t even care about closing the door as you immediately move to the one on the right. The door hits the wall with a roaring bang, and in that moment you swear your heart skips a beat, before your pulse gets quicker and quicker until your ears start ringing. You don’t know if you want to scream, to run or for the floor to swallow you alive. Maybe throwing up seems to be the best option, as you take the disgusting scene before you.
Nathan turns his head, still confused by the sudden ruckus. A girl is straddling him, the light is so dim you can’t recognize her, yet you notice how her skirt is lifted, enough to expose her bottom half. His dark eyes widen in the split of a second, the girl falling with a surprised squeal to the side as he pushes her away. Nathan’s weak voice calls out your name, but you are already turning away.
The scene is quite pathetic, Yelena thinks, as Nathan clumsily tries to run after you, but he keeps stumbling as his lowered pants and underwear are in the way. He quickly gathers them both, and when he appears in the living room it’s not hard to put the pieces together, as he fails to zip up his pants while you try to reach the door.
“Wait– fuck, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” He cries out from behind.
“Shut up, Nathan.” Yelena barks from the stairs, right behind a frowning Wanda and a teary Kate. The music is not so loud here at the entrance, and that allows the people lingering there to witness the entire scene.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil in your stomach, before facing him. You can’t cry in front of him. You won’t.
“You’re an asshole!” A shriek erupts from the top of the stairwell as your lips part; the girl stands there, mascara melted and skirt haphazardly lowered to cover her thighs.
“Jesus Christ.” Wanda mumbles, massaging the top of her nose.
You swear she has a familiar face, yet you can’t put your finger on it. Maybe she used to go to school with you, one of the many forgettable faces you came across in the hallways.
“You’re a fucking liar, Nathan Barnes. You promised you would have told her about us. You promised me you were going to leave her.”
The whole crowd around you gasps but it goes unnoticed by you three.
“What the fuck Nathan?” You whisper, regarding him with a disgusted grimace.
“I–” Nathan stares at you with his mouth open, suddenly ashamed of being put in the spotlight in front of so many strangers. “I didn’t…”
“I’ll tell you what he did, since he’s a fucking coward.” The girl announces, climbing a few steps down. “We’ve been dating since March, and he’s been promising me he would break up with you since then. Tonight, he told me he did it as soon as he got here. But apparently he didn’t.” She throws him a bitter glare, before crossing her arms.
Since March.
He’s been dating another girl for eight months. No. He’s been cheating on you with another girl for eight months. Finally, everything starts making sense. He was busy all the time. He didn’t text you back. You didn’t see each other for weeks sometimes. His lips barely touched yours when you met, and sex was nearly inexistent. All the weekends you decided to come back here and he never once seemed to care about tagging along, not even texting you to make sure you had safely arrived, knowing your car is literally a jalopy.
Your hands curl into fists before you can even realize it. The image of her riding him keeps flashing behind your eyes, cold sweat damping your back. You can’t find the strength to glance around, refusing to meet some stranger’s pitiful eyes, or worse… Their small smirk, their amused look. In the living room, people keep laughing, dancing, kissing. Standing here, in front of your ex boyfriend, in front of this person you though you knew, makes you feel ridiculous. Like the butt of a horrible joke.
You’ve been feeling guilty about doubting his words, when he had been betraying your trust all this time. Something shatters inside you at the realization that maybe everything that you did together, that you talked about, that you shared... It wasn’t real at all. No, not maybe. It wasn’t.
You suddenly feel exposed, not just physically, but the rawest part of your soul burns under all these curious eyes. You need to cover yourself, to disappear behind a blanket. Your eyes sting, yet you refuse to give these people and Nathan a bigger show by crying in the middle of the party.
Swallowing, you find the courage to ask one last thing, the urge to go at the bottom of this situation is too strong to let you flee without proper answers. “So what about all the assignments and the group projects you were busy with? Were they real at least? Or did they all involve fucking another girl behind your girlfriend’s back?” Nathan doesn’t answer, and that's enough for you. He still stares at you with those pleading brown eyes of his, and a wave of fury washes over you abruptly. This asshole still has the balls to look like he’s being unfairly accused.
Shaking your head, you sprint towards the door, ignoring your friends’ pleas to wait up for them. They try to reach you, but there’s too many people gathered there to watch the scene as if it was a fucking movie. By the time they get outside, you have disappeared. It’s too dark to make out your form, and after screaming your name a few times, Yelena curses out loud, ready to give that dumbass a piece of her mind as Wanda and Kate urgently run after her.
Walking in the biting cold of October seems to clear your mind a little, even if the tears are unstoppable. You didn’t even notice them until you slowed down. Sniffling, you lower your head, even if you’re completely alone. It still feels humiliating. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet thoughts of how stupid you’ve been cloud both your mind and your judgment. How could you have been so blind? All the signs were there, but you decided to ignore them.
That girl… She went to your same university. That’s why she felt so familiar. She’s pretty, you can’t deny that. You wonder what pushed him to cheat on you. Was she funnier than you? Was she more caring? Better in bed? What were you lacking? You’ve always found yourself to be pretty average looking, you had your moments yes, but throughout your life you can’t say guys have fought to go out with you. You flirted with some people, went on a couple of first dates, but then everything ended there. Maybe someone had a crush on you at some point in their life, but it’s not like you ever knew.
Of course that took a toll on your confidence, but then Nathan happened. You probably shouldn’t have based your self-worth on the view he had of you.
You can’t even go home and cry in your bed in peace. Kate was the only one with a purse, so you left all your belongings there, except for your phones. You really don’t want to go back there, right now it feels like entering a cage full of lions. Nathan would probably be there, still fighting with his new girl; or maybe he has already made up with her, since she didn’t seem even remotely concerned about the fact that he's a literal cheater. If you were in her place, you would consider being the one on the other side some day. This is not new for you. You witnessed how much your aunt suffered after taking back in her cheating husband. He begged on his knees, crying and swearing he won’t do that again; that it was just a moment of weakness. She was too busy with her job, and he needed her.
So he fell into another woman’s vagina, of course.
Your mom refused to speak to her for a while after her decision to not divorce him. Your dad eventually made her change idea: that asshole was prone to doing that again, and she couldn’t risk her sister to be alone and vulnerable.
After four months, your aunt came back home early from a work trip to surprise him, but she was the one to be surprised: he was in their bed with one of her dear friends.
You wouldn’t wish for something similar to happen to that girl, it’s not who you are. Even if she knew he was already dating someone else, and she willingly started a relationship with him. However, why would a single girl like her worry about your relationship if your boyfriend– well, ex boyfriend, didn't care in the first place?
You sigh, mind traveling to your parents. They are out of town for your dad’s birthday, you can’t text them at one in the morning to tell them you just found out about Nathan cheating on you. It’s better to wait for them to come back home, you know they would leave immediately just to stay with you, and you can’t allow it. They work so much and the only time of the year they treat themselves is for your dad’s birthday. You don’t want to ruin their trip.
The back of your hand swipes once again the raw skin of your cheeks, tears keep clouding your eyes as you look down at the screen of your phone. Your finger hovers on that damn contact, but you feel ashamed just thinking about it.
How can you face Mr. Barnes? Calling him at this hour for help doesn’t just mean worrying him, but also possibly interrupting his night with… Well, maybe someone. He’s a single, attractive man with a big house all to himself, since Nathan was supposed to stay over after the party.
It also means telling him what Nathan did.
How will he react? Will he try to justify him? No, Mr. Barnes would never do that. He’s too smart, too emotionally intelligent to justify a cheater. Even if the cheater in question is his own son.
Taking a deep breath, your mind goes back and forth between the two options. The thought of disturbing him from something— or someone– important makes you want to crawl into a hole and never get out; you suddenly feel like a teenager bothering an older, popular boy. Your finger is rigid as it trembles in the air, until your reflexes make the decision for you, and it presses on the call icon.
You gasp, and with your heart in your mouth, you slowly bring your phone to your ear.
“Sweetheart? Are you okay? Do you need something?” Your heartbeat suddenly calms down at his tranquil, deep voice invading your senses.
Right, that’s another thing about Mr. Barnes. He calls you sweetheart.
You’re still crying, and when you sniffle, he calls out your name, this time worried.
“Are you busy?” You gulp, biting your shaky bottom lip.
“No. Never for you. What happened? Do you need me to come pick you up?” You nod, then frustratedly exhale when you realize he can’t see you. A clinking sound comes from the other side, and you faintly smile as you recognize it to be keys. You haven’t even answered and he’s already gathering his stuff to come get you.
“Please. If you’re not busy.”
“I told you I’m not, don’t worry.” You hear a door closing, before he speaks again. “Are you alright? Are you in a safe place?”
“I’m alright.” You tell him you are in front of Ms. Garcia’s house and from his silence you gather he’s surprised. It’s almost thirty minutes away from Rachel’s house.
“Why are you there, sweetheart? Is Nathan with you?” He urges, words half muffled by the car engine coming to life.
“No, I’m alone. He's at the party.” You sigh, sitting on a nearby bench. The cold metal against your half-naked thighs makes you shiver, but your shins are starting to hurt a little. “And I’m alright, just tired.”
He doesn’t need to hear what happened right now, the least you can do is explain face to face.
“Doesn’t seem like it.” He mumbles. “You sound like you’ve been crying.”
You simply hum, waiting for him to end the call. He doesn’t, respecting your silence as he prefers having you on call not saying anything rather than hanging up and possibly leaving you alone in a dangerous situation.
When the Barnes’ familiar black SUV parks right in front of you, your body unconsciously stands up. You hang up, watching as Mr. Barnes quickly gets out of the car. Your lips part to apologize, but before you can even think about what to say, he’s on you, tightly hugging you to his broad chest.
Your mouth takes a weird shape as you try to stop a mortifying whine from coming out. Your eyes feel wet once again, this time you cannot stop the tears as they gradually wet his red henley.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who to call.” You swallow the tight knot in your throat. Your resigned tone is a pang to his heart. “My parents are out of town and Kate has my keys, but I didn’t want to go back there–” You hiccup, working yourself up.
“Hey, hey,” He gently pries your head away with a hand on your cheek, enough to examine your devastated eyes. “I’ve always told you to call me if you need something. Anything. So don’t you dare apologize. I’m so proud you remember it, sweetheart.” Your eyes lower at that, not knowing what to say.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Bucky’s other hand cradle your left cheek, his thumbs softly swiping away the tears still falling down. You swallow again, this time shaking your head lightly. Your jaw clenches at the sole reminder of what happened.
“Alright, alright. I won’t force you. Do you want to come home with me? It’s freezing and you’re–” He stops mid sentence as his blue eyes take you in fully. You suddenly feel so dumb for not bringing a jacket; despite the cold, you knew inside Rachel’s house it was going to be a furnace with all those sweaty people dancing and drinking. And it’s not like you planned to make a dramatic escape in the middle of the night.
Despite your internal scolding, you notice the way Mr. Barnes immediately snaps out of whatever he was thinking, glancing back at your face. You’re right under a lamppost, therefore it’s not hard to spot the redness taking over his cheeks. You’re his son’s girlfriend, of course he would feel uncomfortable having you so close and barely covered.
“I guess you didn’t want to hide your pretty outfit.” Your eyes widen at his amused smile. “You’re beautiful, by the way. A jacket wouldn’t have ruined it.” With a wink, he places a hand on your back, guiding you to his car. You’re still trying to process the compliment as he opens the car door on the passenger side, helping you inside.
He never explicitly called you beautiful. Sometimes, he would compliment your outfits, or call your makeup pretty. But it stopped there.
Once he’s inside and the engine is started, he turns on the heat. You shiver a little, your body gradually relaxing as you realize how cold you have been until now.
“Better?” He glances at you, receiving a simple grateful nod as answer. “Fuck, didn't even think about bringing you one of my jackets.”
Bucky maneuvres the vehicle on the roadway, unhurriedly driving back the way you came from. A sense of dread washes over you at the realization that to reach his home, you have to pass by your neighborhood, which means passing by Rachel’s house as well.
Bucky notices the way your body slightly slides down the seat, then your head turns to the window. As if you’re trying to hide, to not be noticed. He keeps an attentive eye on you until he’s driving by your house. He can’t help but glance at the chaotic mess that is the huge mansion, but there’s too many people and it’s too dark outside to recognize any of them. His son in particular.
“I saw Nathan with another girl.” You blurt out once Rachel’s house is out of sight. The car stutters a little, your stomach churning with a hint of anxiety, so you send a worried look to a shocked Mr. Barnes.
“Sorry.” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “How... ?”
You take a deep breath and your eyes land on the road in front of you, not strong enough to face him as you recount the events. “Kate caught him in one of the bedrooms upstairs. When I opened the door, I saw a girl straddling him. They were kissing and... Yeah, they were doing other things.” You sigh, swallowing back another lump.
“Apparently all those assignments and projects were just an excuse. They’ve been together since March and Nathan swore to her he was going to break up with me eventually.” Every word feels like glass on your tongue.
From your peripheral vision, you catch how his body abruptly goes rigid, his knuckles turning white; an apology is ready on your lips. What are you apologizing for? For bothering him to come pick you up? For revealing such a horrible fact about his son? You don't even know, but his devastated expression is enough to make you feel guilty.
What he does next takes you completely off guard.
His hand travels to yours over the console, intertwining his fingers with yours.
Mr. Barnes is very good with his words, but at the moment, his hold is worth more than some carefully crafted speech. The tears urgently sting the back of your eyeballs at the great comfort that the simple gesture brings you, yet you try to repress them, already mortified about having to be the one to tell him the truth behind your relationship.
Confused, you watch the car turn, coming to a stop at the roadside. Bucky exhales heavily once the engine is turned off, plunging you both into complete darkness. His body moves until he’s facing you as best as he can.
Mr. Barnes’ softly calls out your name, squeezing your fingers once. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” Your chin slowly lifts, and even if reluctantly, you still turn your head towards the steering wheel, enough to catch him in your peripheral vision. “Thank you.”
“I know you’re hurting so much right now, and my words are meaningless in front of this great betrayal, but please, listen to me, sweetheart.” He slightly leans forward, a fierceness that you’ve never seen in his eyes sparkling amidst the blue. “Don’t let this go to your head, don't you think you are not enough. Sometimes people just don’t know what to do with something good when they have it. I’m deeply disappointed in him. I didn’t raise him to be like this and believe me, I will have words with him. Very strong ones.” You give him a faint smile, squeezing his hand back.
“Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Barnes. Also, your words are never meaningless to me.” You whisper, frowning at his chest. “He chose to do that on his own volition, he could have… Broken up with me,” your voice shakes. “Before starting something with her, but he took the easy way out.”
Mr. Barnes stares at the dashboard with empty eyes, scoffing a humorless laugh. “I guess the apple never falls far from the tree.” You raise both eyebrows at his bitter voice, before he glances at you with a faint smile. “My ex wife cheated on me, that’s why we divorced.”
Your jaw falls.
“Nathan was just thirteen but he had to witness how much his mom’s... choices took a toll on me. It wasn’t easy for him. I never dared to speak badly of her, never prevented him from seeing her. But he still chose to stay with me.” He sighs tiredly. “They went back on speaking terms just a couple of years ago; Nathan felt like she betrayed him as well, refused to even text her on Christmas. Has he ever told you that?” You simply shake your head.
“How could he...”
“I’m–I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t know… Nathan never told me the reason of your divorce.” You whisper.
He squeezes your hand. “No need to apologize, sweetheart. It’s… Well, the scars are there but they don’t hurt anymore.” You squeeze back, frowning at your knees.
“My point is, I’ve been through that before, and for a long time I was miserable and frustrated. At her, for screwing up everything we had built. At myself, for not noticing the signs sooner. At fate in general, because I regretted ever knowing her. Nathan was the only good thing that came out of that marriage.” He pauses, before his eyes land back on you. “My point is, some days you’re going to be mad; some days you’re going to stay in bed and cry your heart out. And some days… You’re going to miss the happy moments spent with him. But it won’t last forever.”
You suddenly find the glove box very interesting, clearing your throat before admitting what you've been realizing throughout your walk. “Is it… Is it wrong if I’m more upset about him betraying my trust than actually losing him?”
“What do you mean?” He slightly tilts his head, his way of letting you know he's here for you if you want to talk.
“He was always busy, and deep inside of me I knew something was up. I guess… Unconsciously, I’ve been trying to distance myself emotionally to not get hurt. I’m shaken about the fact that he cheated on me, and had a whole relationship going on with another girl behind my back. I had my suspicions confirmed. But... I’m not actually sad about… Losing him.” You exhale frustrated, straightening up on the seat. “I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”
“You’re angry because he made you doubt your self-worth.”
“Yes!” You exclaim, observing him as he nods.
“And you’re upset because he betrayed your trust.”
“Exactly. I’ve been feeling guilty since the time I went to the library to check if he was actually there. I felt like shit for a whole month because here I was, doubting the amount of work his teachers gave him, while he was breaking his back on those damn books. But no! He was fucking someone else all along.” Your hand reflexively covers your mouth as you glance at a chuckling Mr. Barnes with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be so crude.” He was still Mr. Barnes for fuck’s sake.
“Don’t you dare apologize. I feel so guilty whenever I swear around you, thought you never once cursed in your life.” You share a meaningful laugh, before silence takes over the poorly lit vehicle again.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You mumble, the corner of your mouth slightly lifted. He gives you one of his charming smiles back, squeezing your fingers one last time before he turns the engine on.
“You know I’m here for you, always.”
He claps his hands once, and all of a sudden it feels like that dark cloud of despair has finally dispersed. “C'mon now, let's go home so you can get comfortable and rest properly. You had a long night.”
“Are you sure you’re not busy? I don’t want to crash your free night–”
“Are you kidding? I love when you come over! And no, you didn’t interrupt anything. Actually, I was watching a movie and eating some of the leftover candies, waiting for a text that you both got home safely.”
When the car is parked in its usual spot, Mr. Barnes makes quick work of getting out, before sprinting to your side to open your door. Shyly, you thank him with a whisper.
You’re still not used to all these acts of service.
“Alright, here we are.” He breathes out, shoulders lowering significantly as if the sole familiar smell of his home has the powerful ability to throw any tension out of the door. He leaves his sneakers in the shoe rack by the entrance, and you do the same, putting your heels in the empty space that he vacated deliberately for you when Nathan started to bring you over more frequently.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to take a shower?”
You touch your temple, shutting your eyes momentarily. “Hm, just a headache from all the stress. But I would really love a shower. I feel all sweaty from the party and I’m pretty sure my clothes smell of smoke.”
He doesn’t bother to ask you if you’re sober, he knows you despise the taste of alcohol, but also any type of substance that could make you lose control. Mr. Barnes then leaves some Advil and a glass of water on the kitchen counter, before jogging upstairs to get you some clean clothes. You take your time in slowly finishing the whole glass, after walking and crying for so long and with a stomach full of fruity soft drinks, you desperately need to rehydrate your body. And maybe something to eat too.
Once you are alone in the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror makes you flinch instantly. Your make up is completely ruined, your lipstick smudged at the corners and the eye shadow completely fucked up under your eyes. The thought of Mr. Barnes seeing this mess makes you shudder, but you decide to ignore the embarrassment for now. Once you’re naked and ready to get inside the shower, a sealed bottle of micellar water and a sealed package of cotton pads lingering on the edge of the countertop catch your sight. With a relieved sigh, you quickly remove your ruined make up, making a mental note to thank Mr. Barnes for his thoughtfulness.
The warm water touching your skin and the pleasant floral smell of the products tidily lined up on the shower caddy allow your neck and shoulders to unleash quite a lot of tension. Once you’re completely dry, you wear the black shirt he left on the small stool by the bathtub and a pair of boxers that you adjust to your likings. You make sure to be presentable enough before going downstairs, but something catches your eyes again. Astonished, your eyes travel to some unopened products that you are very familiar with. You take the first one to examine it: a moisturizer for your type of skin. Next, a gentle cleanser. Then, a neutral-smelling deodorant; and lastly, a purple toothbrush still in its intact packaging.
Were these things for you? Did he buy them on purpose, even if it had been almost a year since the last time you stayed over?
When you silently enter the kitchen, the sight of Mr. Barnes’ broad back leaves you standing still for a few seconds. You lower your gaze at the warmth that spreads in your chest at how domestic this is. It’s not the first time he cooks for you, yet you’ve never been here at this time of the night, clad in his clothes.
Turning around, he places a plate on the table, before his eyes find you. He smiles, lips parting as if he wants to say something, but stops abruptly when his blue eyes fall on your naked legs. Clearing his throat, the man abruptly turns back around to swipe the counter.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, thank you for the clothes. And the sandwich.” You add, sitting at the table. It’s your favorite, you acknowledge with a soft smile.
“They fit you well. The clothes, I mean.” He mumbles, then whips his head slightly, smirking. “Still, I miss the Barbie outfit.” You giggle, not really knowing if he was simply joking, or if he did really mean it.
“Oh, I also wanted to thank you for all those hygiene products. When did you buy them?” You quip, devouring half of the bread as if you haven’t eaten in ages.
“I’ve been stocking them up since you started spending the night here, just in case you forgot to bring something.” He shrugs, sending you another one of his charming smiles. It comes so easy to him. He knew you were spending the night and he wished for you to be comfortable and safe in his home. Simple as that.
Whenever you went over to Nathan’s, you had to pack an overnight bag with all your things. You never thought about leaving something behind, because it was so sporadic for you to spend the night there, and he was also living with other three people, so you didn’t want to intrude. Yet, now that you’re realizing how much Mr. Barnes has been going out of his way to take care of you, you can’t help but think about how many things Nathan took for granted. Your own boyfriend.
When you finally move on the sofa, your body instantly turns slack as it touches the soft cushions. Your phone on the coffee table lits up once; from your slumped position you can read half of Wanda’s message.
You texted the group chat to let them know you’re safe with a friend. Yelena will understand immediately, you are sure. You catch a really sorry, but you don’t have the energy to deal with the situation. They know you’re alright and sheltered from the cold; tomorrow, you’ll reassure them that you don’t hold a grudge against them for fighting instead of telling you immediately what was going on. You don’t know what you’d have done in a similar situation, but right now you’re too drained to explain yourself.
Your eyes move back on the plasma screen, a mediocre horror movie playing on cable. It's hard to ignore the way Mr. Barnes keeps glancing your way, for a second you're sure you're imagining things, half delirious from exhaustion. When you decide to boldly turn, he doesn't even try to hide it.
You don't know who leaned in first, but one moment your noses are touching, the next he's kissing you like he's been craving it for a very long time. It's thrilling, the way his lips move against yours. One of his hands cups the back of your head, encouraging you to come closer until your fingers tangle in his henley.
It shouldn't feel this good. It shouldn't feel this exciting. It shouldn't...
It shouldn't happen.
“Wait–” You abruptly interrupt the kiss, panting as you horrifically stare at the carpet. “W–What… What are we doing?”
“Shit.” Bucky mumbles, his chest heaving as he tries to regain a crumb of control on his raging heartbeat. “I–I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Oh my God, I’m a terrible person!” You shriek, leaning forward on your elbows as you hide your face in your hand, the familiar sting of tears teasing the corners of your eyes.
“Hey, c'mon now sweetheart.” A warm palm lays on your trembling back, moving in smooth, round motions. “Why would you be a terrible person? You did nothing wrong.”
“I just kissed my ex-boyfriend’s dad!”
“If anything, I kissed you.”
“We both leaned in!”
“Okay, let's just take a deep breath–”
“It feels like I’m doing something bad–” A firm call of your name is enough to stop your rambling. Bucky's hand travels to the back of your neck, gently turning you until you are forced to face him.
“You know you don’t owe him anything, right?” He states solemnly.
“Why are you so calm? You’re his dad! I shouldn’t feel–” You stop abruptly. The way his eyes widen with hope makes you want to cry. Is it really happening? Has he been feeling this way too all this time?
“Feel what?” Bucky urges, taking your hand in his.
“I…”
“Feel what, sweetheart?” Shame keeps your throat closed, you are physically unable to utter any sound. So he takes the matter into his own hands, cradling your cheeks with his rough palms.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you came here running to tell me you’ve got an A on your paper about the evolution of language in online communities.” You gasp softly, shocked at how much he remembers about you.
“You looked at me with stars in your eyes, I felt so lucky to be the one to witness your happiness first hand. It was also the first time you hugged me. I just felt… Complete. I tried to ignore it, believe me sweetheart. I felt dirty whenever my eyes fell on the curve of your waist, whenever I imagined your lips on mine. You were Nathan's girlfriend, how could I ever forgive myself for being jealous of my own son for getting to have you like this? For being able to call you his?”
“I promised myself I would have distanced myself a little. My friends tried everything. Blind dates with their colleagues; friends of a friend; even relatives… But no one ever compared to your sparkly eyes and passionate speeches.”
“Nathan had his chance and he failed to take care of you. To love you like you deserve. He was so cruel, baby. And I can’t allow myself to stand by and watch you suffer, when I’m right here, begging you to let me show you how much I care for you. Let me be the real man you deserve by your side. Someone who can keep up with your liveliness, who can also give, not only take and take and take. Someone who knows what you need by just looking into your eyes.”
“And what do I need now, James?” His breath hitches, not expecting his first name to sound so right on your tongue. Bucky, James, Jamie… He didn’t care. He just needed you to demolish that already fractured wall of propriety that has kept you apart all along.
“My lips on yours.” His blue eyes shine with the clear evidence of his attraction to you, and that’s enough to give you that confidence boost you’ve been looking for a while. Your fingers graze his jaw for a fleeting moment, before you bring him closer by his cheek, pulling him until your lips touch his.
Your other hand tangles in his hair, and the guttural sound he makes in your mouth when you pull a little has your thighs squeezing together. His tongue roams freely, slowly, deeply, until oxygen leaves you entirely. You kiss for quite a while, your lips fitting together like the final two lost pieces of a puzzle. His hands palm the curve of your waist, until he finds the courage to guide you on his laps. A moan is muffled against your mouth when your covered crotches come into contact, his hard-on the proof that you’re not the only one excited for what’s to come. One palm sneakily trails up your torso, until it finds the side of your boob. A gentle squeeze elicits a gasp out of you, so you take the chance to grind down against his crotch, and he gasps back.
When you separate, wheezing and warm, his pupils are blown and his breathing harsher.
Your fingers finally allow themselves to do what they've secretly wished for a while; softly, they trace his features: from the gentle creases on his forehead, to his dark brows; then the sharp profile of his nose, his blushing cheekbones, the trim stubble on his jawline. His lips part just a fraction when your thumb caresses his bottom lip, trying to exhale as quietly as he can, frightened to interrupt this sublime moment.
“You’re stunning, James.” You utter softly, faintly smiling. Bucky sighs, closing his eyes as your fingers tenderly move on to his neck. Shuddering, the older man wraps one muscular arm around your back, bringing you closer until he can comfortably lean in to return the favor, pressing wet kisses on your neck. You let him, sighing every time his lips brush your skin.
“You’re driving me crazy.” He growls, a grin blooming on your mouth at his poorly concealed desperation. The hand firmly resting on your chest travels down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind; then over your half-bare thighs, until it lands on your covered ass. Your gasp gets swallowed by his mouth when he harshly squeezes the flesh, helping your hips in their circular movements. His groan makes your core tingle and suddenly you take notice of how damp the boxers you’re wearing are. When was the last time you let someone touch you like this?
This time this kiss is harder, more animalistic than the ones you previously shared, a testament of your growing arousal.
“Baby,” he breathes out, cradling your cheek to assure you’re making eye contact. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that right?”
“Hm?” Your actions are a little slow after the way his hands have gently played with your curves. The ghost of his palms on your chest and thighs tingles on your skin; your brain feels fuzzy, and you slightly tilt your head when he starts talking again.
“We can do whatever you want. Do you want to go back to watching the movie? Sure. Do you want to sleep? I’ll make the bed in the guest room right away.”
“What if I want you to fuck me?” The words feel like cotton candy on your tongue, yet you don’t miss the way his eyes widen in anticipation.
“Are you sure?” His voice shakes a little, as his hands when the squeeze your hips.
“Please.”
A squeal echoes in the living room as Bucky lifts you without much of a fuss. You keep your legs tightly wrapped around his waist as your arms circle his neck. He groans once as you can’t stop yourself from leaving small pecks on the tan skin under his jaw. It’s the first time you see his bedroom, yet it doesn’t feel as weird as it should.
Bucky places you down on the large bed against the wall. The big walk-in closet and his en-suite bathroom get completely ignored as Bucky’s six feet form covers yours without actually resting his full weight on you. Your lips meet again and this time his palm travels under his shirt, finding your bare chest.
“James!” You wheeze, hips twitching up as his fingers graze your already erect nipple. You’re now fully lying on your back with his hard body straddling you, but a slightly push on his chest is enough for him to immediately lift his torso up.
“Are you oka–”
“I feel so good. I just– I need to make something clear.” This time it's you who cradles his jaw. “I like you, James. I think I have for a while, actually. It wasn’t just pure admiration. And this,” your finger wriggles between you two, pointing at your chests. “It’s not a one-night stand for me. I don't want you to think you’re... Some sort of revenge; much less a rebound.”
“This is my dream come true.” He mumbles against your lips, caressing the back of your head in awe.
“I’m gonna make this right, okay sweetheart?” Bucky kisses your forehead, then your cheeks. “I’m gonna take care of you.” Next it’s your neck. “Play with your sweet pussy until you are nice and ready for me.” Your eyes roll back as his hot breath tickles the sensitive skin behind your ear. The fingers trailing up your thigh finally reach the inner part, his thumb stroking the damp fabric of his dark boxers right where you need him.
“Then I’m gonna fill you up,” your hips buckle up once and he chuckles elated. “You like that, angel? Like the idea of me stuffing you full with my cum?”
“Please.” You moan, squeezing his forearm.
Bucky’s shaky exhale gives his excitement away, despite his firm words. “Gonna take you on a date tomorrow, alright?” You nod, swallowing as his other palm leaves shivers on your bare stomach, lifting the shirt up up to your stomach. “Give you everything you deserve and more.”
His smirk widens when you whine as he lifts himself enough to remove your top. A low groan falls down his lips when your naked chest is finally exposed. His large hands cup your tits without much thought, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples, eliciting another whine from you. You finally look up at his face, biting your bottom lip when you notice the way his eyes have gone darker like the ocean abyss, as they stare at the way your boobs fit perfectly inside his palms.
“Such gorgeous tits, sweetheart.” Your cheeks instantly heat up at the praise; overwhelmed by the sudden attention on your naked torso, you try to turn away, but Bucky is faster. Cradling your cheeks, he lifts your head until you are forced to stare right at him.
“None of that. Need you to lay back and watch me as I worship you, sweetheart.”
The boxers are suddenly discarded on the floor. It’s electrifying, being so open for Bucky to admire. You’re quivering under his devoted gaze and faint smile, your breath hitching each time his fingers stroke a patch of tender skin as he takes his time in appreciating every single curve, every single aspect that you consider a flaw; to him, they’re new features to cherish. A way to learn you in the most intimate of ways.
You don’t even notice the way your eyelids have fluttered shut. The rustling sound of fabric is what drives you to open them in time to catch Bucky throwing his shirt somewhere on the ground.
He truly is stunning, with his strong physique and his muscles still defined, even with the small layer of fat covering most of it.
With a small smile, he guides your legs up until your feet are firmly planted on the mattress and your knees bent.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He makes a show of gasping as he lays between your thighs, his nose almost touching your bare core. “Look at this. Already so wet for me, pretty girl?” To be fair, you think this is the most aroused you’ve been in your whole life.
It’s mortifying how quickly your first orgasm approaches you, it only took him a few languid circling movements on your clit and you’re already shaking against the beige bedsheets.
Breathy moans and whimpers fall from your parted lips as he teases you. “You’re so sensitive, baby.” He marvels, licking his lips. “But not yet.” His fingers leave your throbbing nub at once, your pathetic whine only fueling his teasing.
“I know, sweetheart.” Bucky hums, thick finger gently tracing up and down the seam of your entrance. “Gonna make it better right now, don’t worry.” His digit is inside you; your limbs go rigid, before his other hand comes up, stroking your clit to make you relax. You sigh at the sensation and Bucky feels your hole gradually making room for another finger. “There we go. Feels good, right?”
Your eyes squeeze shut as you can only nod, your own hand shooting down to grasp one of his shoulders as the tip of his tongue replaces the fingers taunting your clit. The first swipe makes you immediately stiffen.
“Bucky!” Your wanton moan resounds through the dimly lit room, making his cock twitch with interest.
“Jesus Christ.” The vibrations elicited from his growl are pleasant against your tender core. “Has anyone ever tasted you, baby?”
“N–No.” You cry out as his fingers push against your sweet spot.
“Fucking fools.” He snarls. “I’ll take care of you from now on, sweet girl.” He rasps out, eager to go back to your sweet slick.
“B–Bucky!” You sniffle, clenching the muscle of your stomach to keep your orgasm at bay.
“Oh I know, I know baby. You’re gripping me so tight, can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock.” Your hips twitch up again, but his unoccupied arm blankets your belly to keep you nice and still as he enjoys his meal. The way his stubble leaves crude marks against your skin makes your back arch as high as his heavy arm allows.
“You know, sweetheart felt like the safest option,” he pants, coming up for air with his lips glistening with your arousal. “Now I can finally call you whatever I want.”
“Baby, darling, doll– oh.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way you clenched at the last pet-name, but of course the smug bastard did.
“You like when I call you doll?” You toss your head back as his thumb goes back to play with your sensitive nub. You are only able to stutter out an embarrassed yes, but it is enough to make Bucky smirk.
“Yeah, doll?” He relishes in the way you clench around his knuckles, knowing you’re at your limit now.
“Give it to me, doll. C’mon, I can feel you need to.” He growls against your thigh. “I’ve been patient for too long.”
Your head falls back against his pillow as your eyes fall shut, your first orgasm of the night hitting you hard, leaving you whimpering and shaking under his hands. Your body tightens as wave after wave of pleasure seeps deep into your bones, your pussy repeatedly clenching around his damp fingers.
“Gorgeous.” Your nails cling into his shoulder as you ride it out, humping his face under his soft grunts of encouragement. Bucky's hips have been jerking against the mattress for a while now, unable to stay stoic in front of a such a goddess unraveling before him. With a final teasing lick to your clit, his thick fingers finally pull away. You’re still breathless when he lifts himself up, enough to pull you into another feral kiss. Tasting yourself on someone's tongue is definitely new, but not unpleasant.
“Wish I could stay between your thighs all night.” He mumbles against your lips. Kissing Bucky… It’s just so lovely. Especially right now, when you're so close to each other the hair on his chest tickles your nipples. You gasp at the light stimulation, completely missing the way one of his hands abandons you to discard his boxers.
When he gets into an upright position, you finally catch a glimpse of it. Even his cock is beautiful, for fuck’s sake. You gulp once at the sight of how majestic he looks, naked and kneeling for you, before your eyes meet his amused ones. His arms wrap around your thighs without a word, dragging you closer to him until his cock brushes against your core. His tongue is inside your mouth before you can even let a full gasp out. Whining, your fingers slip into his hair as he teases the seam of your entrance with his tip.
“So eager.” He chuckles at your twitching hips, before extending his arm towards the night stand.
“No!” Your fingers immediately wrap hard around his bicep, causing Bucky to freeze.
“I’m clean, got tested last month, and I’m on the pill.” You wheeze out, half-nervous he would refuse your implicit proposal.
Bucky scrutinizes you with surprise, leaving a peck on your lips. “I’m clean too. Are you sure, sweetheart?” He frowns.
“I’ve never let anyone else inside without.” You swallow, taking his hand in yours to bring it on your chest. “Want you to be the first.” You whisper.
“Fucking hell.” He groans, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. It’s your turn to smirk now, until you feel the head of his cock back against your hole.
“Oh.” You squeak when he slides in halfway without much resistance on your part; the sight of your glassy eyes rolling back has him moaning.
“Feeling alright, doll?”
“Fuck– yes!” You gasp, stiffening at the burning stretch. “More, please!”
After what seems forever, Bucky bottoms out, jaw clenched and cock twitching at the mere thought of finally being inside his girl. Trying to calm the both of you down, he stills, letting his lips find yours. It only worsens the situation, as he feels your body gradually grow pliant under him. The lewd wet sounds of your mouth moving against each other only spur him on as his hips involuntarily jerk forward.
“James.”
“Yes, I know sweetheart.” He coos at your whines. “Gonna make the ache go away, hm?”
Dragging his hips back slightly, he carefully watches your expression, and when he finds no sign of discomfort, he lets himself slip right back in, harder.
“Oh, sweet girl.” He grins as you cling to his forearms. “That feels good, right?” Leaning in to plant his lips right over your eyebrow, he lets his hips slowly move back, biting back a loud groan at the sweet stimulation of your clenching walls. “Need to see you fall apart on my cock.” He grunts instead.
“Please! Please, Bucky.” You cry out, eyes rolling back again as the tip nudges against your sweet spot. Your moans grow higher and louder as he rocks faster, your slack body trapped under him sliding up and down the mattress with each brutal thrust.
Bucky loses himself a little in the moment as he buries his nose against the damp skin of her neck, licking and kissing away the salty tang of your sweat, finally fucking you properly. The clap of your skins shamelessly fills the bedroom, mixing with your labored breaths and desperate moans.
“Shit, doll.” He growls. “Need this all the time, need to hear your cute squeals as I carve a place for my cock inside your cute little pussy.” You find out you love this position with Bucky. You feel so close to him, and it allows you to touch each other however you want. The way he kisses you, how his cock fits so perfectly inside you, it stirs a warm feeling inside your chest.
“Such a good girl for me, taking all of me so well.” He gushes, smiling at your connected lower half.
“Come with me?” You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as the knot in your lower belly rapidly gets closer to snapping.
“Want to give you another one.” He pants, slowing down. “I’m not so young anymore, sweet thing.” The back of his hand brushes your cheek with such gentleness you almost forget the hard length pounding your hole, before resuming his punishing pace under your delirious moans.
Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body tensing as your back arches.
“That’s it!” He grunts, keeping his eyes firmly on your face. Your legs dangerously tremble as they tighten around his waist. “So tight, so good for me. My good girl.” Bucky grits out, muscles rigid as he hardly fends off the ravaging orgasm threatening to make him fall apart; yet he keeps going, wanting to prolong your orgasm as long as he can. When he hears a whimper bordering on painful, and your palms shoot down to push at his chest, his hips gradually come to a stop.
“Holy fuck.”
Your legs are pleasantly aching by the time you are coming down from your earth-shattering climax. Bucky is still trying to regain his composure as he nuzzles against your collarbone, jaw clenched and bones shaking with the primal need to paint your insides.
He's at his limits. He always takes such good care of you, your beautiful, kind Mr. Barnes.
And now it’s your turn.
“Get up.” You mutter, pushing at his pecs. Panic briefly crosses his features as he clumsily lifts up. You don’t let him go too far, as you gently push him until he's laying on his back. When you land directly on his crotch, cock still snuggled inside you, his eyes widen in astonishment.
Everything feels more sensitive like this.
You don't care about your aching joints, immediately opting for a fast pace. You bounce up and down, biting your bottom lip as you stare at his half-shut eyes. You couldn't be more grateful for Nathan to have his mom's eyes. Your combined labored breathes make you squeeze his length, loving the way you sound together. Bucky couldn't agree more, but he's too busy pawing your hips with one hand, and groping your boob with the other, to rationally think about something clever that would surely turn this debauched angel on his laps into the bashful girl that he's grown to adore.
You're not sure how long has it been, but what makes you still it's not the sudden uncomfortable stiffness in your knees, but rather a door slamming shut.
You stop immediately, your widening eyes meeting Bucky's surprised ones. His shock, though, has a very short life, as his hands land on both of your hips with a resounding smack, encouraging you to go on.
“Bucky!” You reprimand him, gasping at the abrupt stimulation against your sweet spot. The older man under you slowly lifts his torso up, encircling your waist as he guides you down, until his forehead rests against yours.
“We have already established that we like each other and that this,” he points between you just like you did before. “is not a one time thing.” You nod, panting as you are alarmingly aware of all the noises coming from downstairs. His bare feet thumping against the tiles, the cabinet closing, the small sigh of relief after drinking some water.
“Don't you want to give him a taste of his own medicine?” You can't believe the glint of mischief that sparkles in his azure eyes.
“He's your son!” You whisper-shout, partial to his proposal but still too timid to go along with it.
“And you're my girl.” He retorts with the same heat, his pupils on fire. “The same girl he cheated on for eight months.”
Something shatters inside your chest. You don't know if it's the reality finally catching up to you, the humiliation shaping into something fiercer, hotter. Or maybe it's the way this absolutely lovely man just defined you his girl so easily. No shame, no reservations.
Your palms press against his shoulders, urging him to lay back down. The slow smirk forming on his lips matches your indulgent smile.
“Fuck.” Your hips resume their pace with a newfound strength.
“You're doing so well, sweet thing. Look at you, taking all my cock in your tight little pussy. My pretty girl, aren't you?” His dirty words only spur you on, leading his hands back where they were before. In the meantime, the stairs creaks under careful yet not-so silent steps, as Nathan warily makes his way up.
“Yes! O–Oh Mr. Barnes, 's so big.” You cry out, completely forgetting about your ex probably standing outside the door. You don't miss the way Bucky's breath hitches at the same title you used to softly utter with so much admiration and respect, now sounding so beautifully obscene as you cry for his cock. Faintly smiling, you squeeze the hand on your chest, Bucky immediately looking up from your core engulfing his length.
“Yeah? And whose pussy is this, hm?” His fingers settle on your clit with determination, careful to put the right pressure, and you respond immediately, riding him faster as your hole clenches like a vice around him.
“Yours! Fuck, yours!”
"Good girl.” He groans, using every bit of self-restraint to not succumb to the heavenly feeling of your pussy desperately clenching around his leaking cock.
“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck p–please Mr. Barnes!”
“That's it. Come for me, my beautiful girl.” Your third climax of the night is the most intense. You shatter with a loud shriek, collapsing against Bucky's chest as he promptly catches you. The urgent noise of footsteps climbing down the stairs and the finality with which the entrance door snaps shut are completely disregarded as you fall apart on Bucky's twitching cock. You cling to his large frame, shaking and whimpering as his hips ruthlessly chase his own pleasure.
“Can't stop, you feel so fucking good, angel.” The crack in his voice tells you he's close, his hands keeping you nice and still as you let him use you. With one last effort, your chin lifts enough for you to whisper right into his ear.
“Come inside me, Mr. Barnes.”
It's like a switch goes off in his brain. His grip around your thighs tighten, his filthy groans get louder and needier. His hips thrust up once, twice, and then he pushes you down on him, ropes after ropes of his cum reaching the deepest part of you. Your content hum at the surreal sensation of being filled up soothes him a little, his body finally falling back against the mattress.
“Shit,” Bucky harshly exhales, staring dumbfound at the ceiling. “I've never come this hard in my life, sweet girl. Look at you, took it all inside and didn't waste a single drop.” You squirm lightly under his soft palms tracing a path up and down your back, both of you silently agreeing to take your time in pacifying your shaky limbs before making any abrupt movement.
“C'mere and give me a kiss, doll. You've been so good for me.” He coaxes you out of your hiding place against his neck with a finger under your chin. You lazily follow, meeting his lips in a passionate, much more languid kiss.
“The best.” Kiss. “Prettiest.” Kiss. “Girl.” Kiss.
“Bucky!” He smiles brightly at your little giggle, enjoying how serene you look, safe in his arms.
“So, about that date…”
𝜗ৎ end notes
1. I just wanted to say that I read some complains around about stories in which the reader has preferences in terms of food, colors, style, etc. and personally, I always try to be as neutral as possible, but at least for me, it's very hard to not put random facts about what I imagine the protagonist's life to be and her preferences. I'm sorry if that's not your cup of tea, but I honestly love when authors give their reader likes, dislikes, etc. even if they don't align with my preferences.
2. thank you so much for reading this! part 2 will come out on monday 10th november.
He really is 🥵🥵🥵 This is the kind of fic that I read and then text my boyfriend that I can't wait for him to be a 40 year old man 'cause I just KNOW he gonna be fine as hell ughhhhh
pairing: (ex)boyfriend’s dad!bucky barnes x female!reader
summary: you catch your boyfriend having sex with another girl at your neighbour’s halloween party. bucky barnes, his hot and caring dad, comforts you.
warnings: second person (she/her pronouns for reader); mentions of reader's family; original characters; boyfriend’s dad!bucky; age gap (reader’s in her 20s; bucky's 40+); cheating; light angst; hurt/comfort; swearing; smut; size difference; kind of dom!bucky; slightly possessive!bucky; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls); rough sex.
word count: over 12k (sorry)
a/n: happy halloween 🎃 hope you're all doing good! if you want to read more about these two, you can find raw & older christmas themed one-shot here!
ps: see end notes for more info about this series!
The retail store is too bright and colorful compared to the stormy sky outside.
You and your friends have been coming here to buy toys and Halloween costumes since you were in middle school, when Yelena’s older sister used to chauffeur you all around, since she was the only one old enough to drive. Each Halloween, you and your friends planned a big sleepover: a whole night spent watching mildly scary movies, gossiping about the cutest guys in town, and eating junk food until you all got a stomachache.
Throughout high school, your older neighbor's extravagant Halloween party, hosted in her huge mansion, started to be the talk of the town. You didn’t consider yourself much of a party girl, yet you agreed to show up with your friends just for the chance to dress up and flaunt around your elaborated costumes.
When college began, you four enrolled in different universities all over the state. Almost a year slipped by since the last time you hugged, laughed and shared the same space, until you all agreed to meet this Halloween; it would probably be the last time before graduation, since you are all busy with your own studies, hence you are ready to make the most out of these three days together.
The store looks exactly the same as it did ten years ago: fake cobwebs dangling from the white ceiling, evil-looking pumpkins staring down customers from the shelves, racks of masks and toys that in the past seemed endless. Now, you swear everything looks much smaller than it used to be. Though the air still smells of dust and cheap plastic; strangely, it's that weird chemical tang coming from the latex masks hung on the sides that makes this place so familiar.
The first room is completely dedicated to rows and rows of toys for kids, while the second– which is normally a storage room, is full of costumes and accessories messily arranged. From the ceiling, a dozen paper bats sway, sluggishly spinning in the cold wind leaking in from the old windows. Somewhere on the counter, a motion-sensor witch embraces a plastic pumpkin-shaped bowl full of sweets, laughing like a banshee every time someone tries to take a candy. The sagging, orange letters reading HAPPY HALLOWEEN hang in front of the counter, and you’re pretty sure the owner has been leaving it there all year round since you were little.
The store certainly looked scarier when you were younger. Now, it seems like the kind of place that tries too hard to be fun and spooky at the same time, but ends up appearing quite goofy and messy.
A frowning Wanda browses through angel wings and synthetic, lavish princess robes to find something less glittery and more gothic; while Yelena attempts to give you a heart attack by hovering behind you with different clown masks on. Kate is set to find a Wednesday Addams costume, being obsessed with the homonymous show lately. You already have an outfit at home: a short skirt and a lace top paired with sparkling boots, the colors being an homage to your favorite Barbie doll. You're still bitter about how you couldn't attend Rachel's Halloween party in senior year because of fucking chickenpox that you caught from Kate. That time you had planned to dress up as your favorite Barbie; you had everything ready, that costume was flawless. Yet you ended up in your fleece pajamas under the covers, peeking from behind your pillow at Art the Clown mauling people, while the muffled music coming from the neighboring mansion made your walls literally vibrate.
Still, you decided to tag along for old time's sake. It’s fun to check out different costumes, and maybe you’ll find some accessories to add to your own.
“Black or maroon?” Wanda lifts two identical dresses but in different shades. Kate hums, absently twirling a wig in her hands as she examines the fabrics.
“Black.”
“Hm, maroon is better. It suits the color of her hair.” You answer without looking, scrutinizing a bloody lab coat before placing it back on the rack with a grimace.
“Yelena?” Wanda turns towards the blonde, busy trying to stab her own finger with a fake knife to test its sharpening.
“Is that even a question? You are obsessed with red and all its shade.”
“Yeah, but this dress looks cute in both colors.” Her eyes move from one robe to the other, before putting the black one back at its place. “Alright, I’m done. Have you found anything interesting yet?”
“I can’t believe they don’t have a Wednesday costume, it’s one of the most popular shows ever.” Kate huffs out, quickly going through the plastic bags for the third time.
“You know online shopping is a thing, right?” Yelena quips, throwing the knife back into the display bin. “Or just buy a black dress with a white collar.”
“But I wanted the school uniform.” Yelena rolls her eyes, already tinkering with a pair of popping eye glasses.
“Hey, is Nathan coming?” You startle a little, not expecting Wanda so close to your side. You turn towards her, holding some fake vampire teeth.
“Yep, he’ll get here just in time for the party.” A disgusted ugh echoes behind you, and a small smile takes over your face.
It’s not a secret that Yelena can’t stand your boyfriend of two years, Nathan Barnes. They met only once, and he immediately caught on to her displeasure. He tried to get the reason out of you, although you always pretended to not know why, stating that your friend's just like that. In truth, you knew very well why every word he speaks sounds like a fork scraping a plate to her. Throughout the first months of your budding relationship, he used to disappear a lot, ghosting your texts only to return with grand gestures after a week. It confused you a lot, and Yelena in particular spent hours on the phone trying to calm you down, warning you about his unreliability. It was weird, and for a while you thought he simply liked to fool around with girls, the kind that would ditch the current "old toy" for a new, shiny one.
After a few months of uncertainty, he surprised you out of nowhere just before Christmas. He appeared on the doorstep of your dorm room, apologizing and explaining with great shame his parents’ relationship. He didn’t reveal much, especially why they have been divorced for over ten years, just that the situation had become unbearable, too toxic, and he never really grew up valuing commitment. However, Nathan claimed to like you a lot, and wished to pursue something serious with you.
Yelena was pissed off, she couldn't believe you left him off the hook so easily. There was little to no groveling, which in her opinion had to be the bare minimum after the emotional rollercoaster he put you through. She knows in her heart he is going to hurt you badly someday. The last thing your friend wants is to see you miserable, especially for a dumbass like him. Yet, she doesn’t trust Nathan one bit, and she made it pretty clear when you announced you started dating seriously. You know Yelena is very stubborn and you can’t blame her for having such strong opinions about him; she was the one comforting you throughout the white nights spent wondering why Nathan withdrew all of a sudden, when everything was going so well. And it’s not like she spends every second berating him; if you’re talking about him, she allows herself a few sarcastic comments that actually make you giggle as well, but that's all.
“Oh, so Casper finally made the effort to join you.” That’s another thing, she won’t call him by his name. When you were busy crying over him, she would use different funny nicknames to make you laugh. Casper is a new one, inspired by the fact that he's been very busy with his studies you barely see him.
“His teachers are giving him hell, cut him some slack, Lena. He’s always locked up in the library with his classmates for assignments and group projects.” Wanda eyes you with sympathy, nodding along each sentence. “I always tell him to text me when he gets home, but he’s so exhausted he forgets. The few times he remembers it’s like two, three in the morning.” Your attempt to justify his behavior makes Yelena raises her eyebrows, but for once she decides to not fire back, simply shaking her head with a tired half-smile.
You and Nathan met at the beginning of your first academic year. He and his dad had just moved to your hometown; apparently, his father had enough of chaotic metropolis and decided to start working from home. Home being his mother’s hometown, which his father met in the summer while visiting his relatives. When Nathan’s grandparents got married, they moved to New York and never came back.
Therefore, Nathan, who told you he’s been living with his dad since the divorce, enrolled in the nearest university to stay close to him. Since you’ve been going steady, you started traveling together; after all, he had a shiny, fully functioning car– unlike you. And that’s when he finally introduced you to his dad, James Buchanan Barnes.
Now, Nathan is very handsome, and after meeting Mr. Barnes you can definitely see why. Though, the older Barnes is on another level. For starters, he’s not just handsome. The man is hot. Yes, he might have a few tuffs of white hair in his beard. Yes, crow’s feet appear every time his gorgeous smile brightens his face… But they’re just little details that at the end of they day add to his charm.
He’s big, so much bigger than you, in terms of height and muscles. And he’s a fucking gentleman. Whenever you stay over for either lunch or dinner, he always serves you first; he categorically refuses to let you do anything, stating that his son is old enough to clean after himself.
The first time he pulled out the table chair for you, your heart dropped to your stomach.
You swear he came straight off from a different era, and not in a bad way! He’s very caring and soft-spoken, but rigorous when needed, especially when Nathan argues with him for stupid stuff.
Since last spring, your boyfriend has been buried in projects and assignments, therefore you've often gone back home alone. Mr. Barnes– or well, Bucky, as he insists you call him, met you at the local supermarket one day and after his usual warm greeting, he encouraged you to come by and say hi.
“Even if Nathan isn’t home, it doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”
Despite your nervousness, you went over more times than you want to admit. Mr. Barnes is a pleasant man to be around, and often your conversations range from ridiculous memes he can’t understand to serious topics concerning today’s society. Many times you find yourself confiding your problems to him, and no matter what it is, he seems to always know what to say to soothe you. Most importantly, he speaks and treats you like the adult that you are. It’s like he doesn’t even notice the age difference between you two, also completely disregarding the fact that you are his son’s girlfriend, since he considers you a friend.
It’s almost mortifying if you reflect about Mr. Barnes being there for you more than your actual boyfriend. Nathan often replies so late, apologizing because of a group project that completely took over his mind, or because his friends– which he claims to see even less than you, had finally succeeded in dragging him out of the university library for a drink. More often than not he brushes aside your texts asking about his papers, steering the conversation until he coaxes you to recount your day, before not replying for the next four hours.
Yes, you had some suspicions at first and that makes you quite ashamed now. You never told anyone, not even your friends, but you have actually gone to his faculty library to spy on him. Well, not really to spy. You just needed to make sure he was actually there studying. After you saw him neck deep in his books, you quickly left the area, not having the courage to text him back when he contacted you that same night to let you know he was home.
You feel even guiltier if you think about the many times your mind travelled to Mr. Barnes whenever you saw a cat meme, or simply because you needed an opinion on one of your assignments. He has always been there, even if he’s overwhelmed by emails and legal documents, he still finds the time to text an apology for his temporary inability to give you his full attention. You told him he didn’t need to do that; you know he’s busy, especially in the morning, so he doesn’t need to take even more time away from his job just to clarify he’s not ignoring you and will answer later. Of course he didn’t listen, still keeping the habit going.
During one of your weekly video calls with your friends, Kate asked you how Nathan was, noticing how she hasn’t been seeing him walk by in the background for a while. You explained how busy he's been with his studies and the conversation ended there.
Later, while talking about food, you mentioned how Mr. Barnes had suggested a new restaurant he was sure you would enjoy. You and your friends love to try new cuisines together, and Mr. Barnes had made it his task to recommend new establishments he went to with his colleagues, and friends. An unsettling silence fell upon your headphones, and that caused your eyes to move from the blanket you were knitting, landing on your friends' half-smug half-astonished faces. You dismissed their prying questions, making it clear that you just like to spend time with him since he’s very nice and funny to be around, but they still tease you about having a small crush on the older man.
The joke got out of hand when the week after, you inadvertently blurted out that the blanket you were working on was for Mr. Barnes– he discovered your little hobby and told you he would love to have something made by you. Yelena was over the moon, literally kneeling on the floor as she started begging you to fuck Nathan’s dad. Again, you awkwardly laughed it off while your cheeks heated up with shame. The urge to hide yourself under your bedsheets was so strong your hand raised reflexively to hang up.
Only when Wanda took the matter into her hands and declared that there was nothing wrong about you being friends with your incredibly hot sort of father-in-law, the weight on your chest eased a little.
You aren’t doing anything wrong, you're just two adults being friends, texting each other and enjoying a cup of tea together whenever you are in town. It just so happens he is your totally-not absent boyfriend’s dad.
You like Nathan, a lot. And he likes you as much. Life has just been life, and you’re sure everything is going to get back to normal once you both get that damn piece of paper in your hands. Every couple has its highs and lows.
It’s just a rough patch.
The walls of the lavish mansion rattle to the beat of the pulsing bass. This year your neighbor outdid herself, you have to admit that. Rachel was the ultimate popular girl; rich parents, cheer captain of the only high school in town, and glossy dark waves that every girl tried so bad to imitate. Everyone wanted to be her, but few had the privilege to sit at her table. She wasn’t the stereotypical mean girl, just very ambitious. And rich. Her pretty features sharpened since the last time you saw her, and after she successfully enrolled in one of the most prestigious law schools of the country, you and many others thought she would leave behind her days of immoderate drinking and absurdly wild parties.
Well, not really. The rumor of her renowned boisterous Halloween parties spread throughout the surrounding towns, until it became an unmissable event; so many people counted on her keeping the tradition up after finishing high school, and now she comes back every year, bringing along more and more people, to host the biggest party of the county.
One look at the claustrophobic living room now turned dance floor makes your lungs constrict, the strobe lights specifically added for the event definitely aren’t helping as the bright beams keep blinding you. Costumes blur together as you push through the crowd— a dozen demons, three cowboys, Rachel and her two best friends as the iconic Plastics. Every time you believe to have seen the flash of Nathan’s leather jacket, or the shape of his shoulders, it turns out to be someone else. He told you he didn’t have the time to think about a costume, so he simply gathered a leather biker jacket and some black trousers to pass as Danny Zuko from Grease. He got home around four, but you and your friends had already planned to spend the afternoon getting ready, so you agreed to meet at the party. He texted you an hour ago saying he had just parked, yet you haven’t caught a single glimpse of his dark hair yet.
Laughter ripples through Michael Jackson’s Thriller from a group of people you don’t recognize leaning against the kitchen counter; someone spills a drink right in front of you, almost splashing the dark liquid on your top. A group of guys holler like animals when one of them successfully completes a keg stand; if your temples weren’t pulsing with a raging headache, you would have bursted out laughing at the scene: six drunk guys wearing plastic bags with a cardboard attached to their front reading condom all hugging each other. Nathan would love it.
Right, Nathan. Where the fuck is he?
“Hey!” Your shoulders jump as your name is screamed over Disturbia, Yelena and Wanda suddenly appearing respectively at your right and left side.
“Oh, it’s you.” You sigh, half-relieved. They take you by the arms, steering you towards the open patio windows overlooking the huge backyard. “Have you seen Nathan?”
Your head sharply turns left as you walk by a group by the punch bowls, but it’s just a random guy dressed up in leather.
“Nope.” Yelena grumbles something else you don’t catch, but at that moment it doesn’t seem important. She has the tendency to mumble under her breath creative insults specifically tailored for him, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was complaining this time as well.
The cold air hits your bare limbs instantly as you cross the threshold; you shiver a little, before stopping short as soon as your heels touch the trim grass.
“Why are we here? I’m freezing and I need to find Nathan, he got here an hour ago and–”
“I’m so hungry!” Wanda jumps in, quickening her pace. “Aren’t you hungry? I’m literally starving– oh! They are grilling sausages! I’m craving hot dogs, do you want one too, honey? C’mon–”
“What’s gotten into you, Wan?” You chuckle confused, squinting at her as she keeps rambling about fucking sausages and ketchup. It’s a habit of hers you know very well, talking a mile a minute about random stuff when she’s nervous.
“Wanda stop for fuck’s sake.” Yelena plants her feet on the ground, turning to face your friend.
“What’s going on?” You ask, glancing back and forth between the two. They get into an intense stare off, as if they are having a conversation you are not privy to. “Did something happen?”
Wanda shakes her head, a tight smile sent your way. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. Let’s go eat something.” She tries to take your hand but you retreat enough to let her stop, turning towards a fuming Yelena.
“What’s going on, Lena?” Your blonde friend’s jaw clenches, before she glances back at Wanda’s suddenly serious face.
“There’s no need to make a scene right now, Lena.” Wanda hisses.
“There’s no need–” She sputters outraged. “This is fucking insane, what is your problem?” Wanda frowns, mouth open to say something that would undoubtedly set the blonde off, but you stop them by taking their wrists.
“Hey!” You bark, now worked up as well. “There’s no need to fight. Can you just explain what the hell is going on? I feel kind of left out right now.” Wanda tilts her head, silently begging Yelena with her eyes to stay silent.
“She deserves to know.” Yelena grits out.
“Not right now! It’s just going to destroy her.”
“So what? You think it’s going to get better the longer we wait?”
Their sharp voices attract the attention of a few people chatting on the patio, and Kate, who has been observing the scene from the door, tries to ease up the tension by making up something about a lost lipstick. Some raise their eyebrows skeptically but luckily they go back to their drinks, allowing Kate to sprint towards you.
The air suddenly feels heavier with something unsaid, goosebumps unexpectedly raising on the back of your neck. You can feel it’s something serious, yet nothing comes to mind that could have fueled this kind of reaction from them.
“Someone tell me what’s going on. Right. Now.” Your voice shakes a little, despite your best effort to sound calm. “Why are you fighting? Is Kate alright? Or did Nathan do something? Did you fight?” You urge Yelena, but she simply sighs, closing her eyes. No one answers for a while. The blonde presses her lips together, shaking her head as if she is trying to hold the truth in by force, and Wanda takes your hand again, regarding you with pleading eyes.
“It’s not about Kate, she is fine. We’ll explain later, okay? Let’s just enjoy the–”
“No.” You interrupt, yanking your wrist free. “Explain now.”
Yelena scowls, jaw set. “You’re just making it worse.”
Wanda’s auburn strands swing as her head sharply faces the Russian girl, her voice breaking with some repressed emotion. “We know you hate his guts, Lena. But could you please think about her wellbeing for just one second? We’re in the middle of a party, you’re trying to ruin her night!”
“Oh! I am trying to ruin her night? You are such a–”
“I saw Nathan upstairs making out with a girl!” A voice suddenly blurts out from behind you. The music is so loud you can hear its muffled rhythm booming in your ribcage, yet those words couldn’t be more crystal clear as they pierce through your brain.
Yelena and Wanda go abruptly still, all the agitation and disdain leaving their bodies as fast as they dragged you out here. When you turn around, you see Kate’s squirming form, her eyes wide as they watch you with something akin to desperation.
The ominous emptiness that you’ve been carrying around for the last hour in your stomach suddenly doesn’t feel so irrational.
“I–I’m so sorry.” Kate utters after a few moments of awkward silence, anxiously fiddling with her own fingers.
“Upstairs where?” You murmur, mouth suddenly running dry.
“In one of the bedrooms. The one closest to the bathroom.” She spills mortified, not able to look her friend in the eye.
The party noise dulls to a distant hum. Suddenly the colorful lights, the sharp laughters, the smell of beer and fake fog, they all feel unbearably heavy as you try to process those cruel words.
It happens in a rush. You push past Kate without thinking, dodging drunk students left and right; some stare at you with confusion, others wonder what got Barbie’s panties in a twist to shove past people so roughly. You can't even hear your friends calling your name, their footsteps quick as they chase your rapid form. Even the music doesn’t sound so thundering anymore.
You take a step forward, then another, each one heavier than the last. For a moment, the world… stops. It’s just you and the lump dangerously building in your throat.
You catch Yelena screaming your name as you forcefully burst in the room on the left of the bathroom. It’s dark, and the bed is intact. You don’t even care about closing the door as you immediately move to the one on the right. The door hits the wall with a roaring bang, and in that moment you swear your heart skips a beat, before your pulse gets quicker and quicker until your ears start ringing. You don’t know if you want to scream, to run or for the floor to swallow you alive. Maybe throwing up seems to be the best option, as you take the disgusting scene before you.
Nathan turns his head, still confused by the sudden ruckus. A girl is straddling him, the light is so dim you can’t recognize her, yet you notice how her skirt is lifted, enough to expose her bottom half. His dark eyes widen in the split of a second, the girl falling with a surprised squeal to the side as he pushes her away. Nathan’s weak voice calls out your name, but you are already turning away.
The scene is quite pathetic, Yelena thinks, as Nathan clumsily tries to run after you, but he keeps stumbling as his lowered pants and underwear are in the way. He quickly gathers them both, and when he appears in the living room it’s not hard to put the pieces together, as he fails to zip up his pants while you try to reach the door.
“Wait– fuck, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” He cries out from behind.
“Shut up, Nathan.” Yelena barks from the stairs, right behind a frowning Wanda and a teary Kate. The music is not so loud here at the entrance, and that allows the people lingering there to witness the entire scene.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil in your stomach, before facing him. You can’t cry in front of him. You won’t.
“You’re an asshole!” A shriek erupts from the top of the stairwell as your lips part; the girl stands there, mascara melted and skirt haphazardly lowered to cover her thighs.
“Jesus Christ.” Wanda mumbles, massaging the top of her nose.
You swear she has a familiar face, yet you can’t put your finger on it. Maybe she used to go to school with you, one of the many forgettable faces you came across in the hallways.
“You’re a fucking liar, Nathan Barnes. You promised you would have told her about us. You promised me you were going to leave her.”
The whole crowd around you gasps but it goes unnoticed by you three.
“What the fuck Nathan?” You whisper, regarding him with a disgusted grimace.
“I–” Nathan stares at you with his mouth open, suddenly ashamed of being put in the spotlight in front of so many strangers. “I didn’t…”
“I’ll tell you what he did, since he’s a fucking coward.” The girl announces, climbing a few steps down. “We’ve been dating since March, and he’s been promising me he would break up with you since then. Tonight, he told me he did it as soon as he got here. But apparently he didn’t.” She throws him a bitter glare, before crossing her arms.
Since March.
He’s been dating another girl for eight months. No. He’s been cheating on you with another girl for eight months. Finally, everything starts making sense. He was busy all the time. He didn’t text you back. You didn’t see each other for weeks sometimes. His lips barely touched yours when you met, and sex was nearly inexistent. All the weekends you decided to come back here and he never once seemed to care about tagging along, not even texting you to make sure you had safely arrived, knowing your car is literally a jalopy.
Your hands curl into fists before you can even realize it. The image of her riding him keeps flashing behind your eyes, cold sweat damping your back. You can’t find the strength to glance around, refusing to meet some stranger’s pitiful eyes, or worse… Their small smirk, their amused look. In the living room, people keep laughing, dancing, kissing. Standing here, in front of your ex boyfriend, in front of this person you though you knew, makes you feel ridiculous. Like the butt of a horrible joke.
You’ve been feeling guilty about doubting his words, when he had been betraying your trust all this time. Something shatters inside you at the realization that maybe everything that you did together, that you talked about, that you shared... It wasn’t real at all. No, not maybe. It wasn’t.
You suddenly feel exposed, not just physically, but the rawest part of your soul burns under all these curious eyes. You need to cover yourself, to disappear behind a blanket. Your eyes sting, yet you refuse to give these people and Nathan a bigger show by crying in the middle of the party.
Swallowing, you find the courage to ask one last thing, the urge to go at the bottom of this situation is too strong to let you flee without proper answers. “So what about all the assignments and the group projects you were busy with? Were they real at least? Or did they all involve fucking another girl behind your girlfriend’s back?” Nathan doesn’t answer, and that's enough for you. He still stares at you with those pleading brown eyes of his, and a wave of fury washes over you abruptly. This asshole still has the balls to look like he’s being unfairly accused.
Shaking your head, you sprint towards the door, ignoring your friends’ pleas to wait up for them. They try to reach you, but there’s too many people gathered there to watch the scene as if it was a fucking movie. By the time they get outside, you have disappeared. It’s too dark to make out your form, and after screaming your name a few times, Yelena curses out loud, ready to give that dumbass a piece of her mind as Wanda and Kate urgently run after her.
Walking in the biting cold of October seems to clear your mind a little, even if the tears are unstoppable. You didn’t even notice them until you slowed down. Sniffling, you lower your head, even if you’re completely alone. It still feels humiliating. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet thoughts of how stupid you’ve been cloud both your mind and your judgment. How could you have been so blind? All the signs were there, but you decided to ignore them.
That girl… She went to your same university. That’s why she felt so familiar. She’s pretty, you can’t deny that. You wonder what pushed him to cheat on you. Was she funnier than you? Was she more caring? Better in bed? What were you lacking? You’ve always found yourself to be pretty average looking, you had your moments yes, but throughout your life you can’t say guys have fought to go out with you. You flirted with some people, went on a couple of first dates, but then everything ended there. Maybe someone had a crush on you at some point in their life, but it’s not like you ever knew.
Of course that took a toll on your confidence, but then Nathan happened. You probably shouldn’t have based your self-worth on the view he had of you.
You can’t even go home and cry in your bed in peace. Kate was the only one with a purse, so you left all your belongings there, except for your phones. You really don’t want to go back there, right now it feels like entering a cage full of lions. Nathan would probably be there, still fighting with his new girl; or maybe he has already made up with her, since she didn’t seem even remotely concerned about the fact that he's a literal cheater. If you were in her place, you would consider being the one on the other side some day. This is not new for you. You witnessed how much your aunt suffered after taking back in her cheating husband. He begged on his knees, crying and swearing he won’t do that again; that it was just a moment of weakness. She was too busy with her job, and he needed her.
So he fell into another woman’s vagina, of course.
Your mom refused to speak to her for a while after her decision to not divorce him. Your dad eventually made her change idea: that asshole was prone to doing that again, and she couldn’t risk her sister to be alone and vulnerable.
After four months, your aunt came back home early from a work trip to surprise him, but she was the one to be surprised: he was in their bed with one of her dear friends.
You wouldn’t wish for something similar to happen to that girl, it’s not who you are. Even if she knew he was already dating someone else, and she willingly started a relationship with him. However, why would a single girl like her worry about your relationship if your boyfriend– well, ex boyfriend, didn't care in the first place?
You sigh, mind traveling to your parents. They are out of town for your dad’s birthday, you can’t text them at one in the morning to tell them you just found out about Nathan cheating on you. It’s better to wait for them to come back home, you know they would leave immediately just to stay with you, and you can’t allow it. They work so much and the only time of the year they treat themselves is for your dad’s birthday. You don’t want to ruin their trip.
The back of your hand swipes once again the raw skin of your cheeks, tears keep clouding your eyes as you look down at the screen of your phone. Your finger hovers on that damn contact, but you feel ashamed just thinking about it.
How can you face Mr. Barnes? Calling him at this hour for help doesn’t just mean worrying him, but also possibly interrupting his night with… Well, maybe someone. He’s a single, attractive man with a big house all to himself, since Nathan was supposed to stay over after the party.
It also means telling him what Nathan did.
How will he react? Will he try to justify him? No, Mr. Barnes would never do that. He’s too smart, too emotionally intelligent to justify a cheater. Even if the cheater in question is his own son.
Taking a deep breath, your mind goes back and forth between the two options. The thought of disturbing him from something— or someone– important makes you want to crawl into a hole and never get out; you suddenly feel like a teenager bothering an older, popular boy. Your finger is rigid as it trembles in the air, until your reflexes make the decision for you, and it presses on the call icon.
You gasp, and with your heart in your mouth, you slowly bring your phone to your ear.
“Sweetheart? Are you okay? Do you need something?” Your heartbeat suddenly calms down at his tranquil, deep voice invading your senses.
Right, that’s another thing about Mr. Barnes. He calls you sweetheart.
You’re still crying, and when you sniffle, he calls out your name, this time worried.
“Are you busy?” You gulp, biting your shaky bottom lip.
“No. Never for you. What happened? Do you need me to come pick you up?” You nod, then frustratedly exhale when you realize he can’t see you. A clinking sound comes from the other side, and you faintly smile as you recognize it to be keys. You haven’t even answered and he’s already gathering his stuff to come get you.
“Please. If you’re not busy.”
“I told you I’m not, don’t worry.” You hear a door closing, before he speaks again. “Are you alright? Are you in a safe place?”
“I’m alright.” You tell him you are in front of Ms. Garcia’s house and from his silence you gather he’s surprised. It’s almost thirty minutes away from Rachel’s house.
“Why are you there, sweetheart? Is Nathan with you?” He urges, words half muffled by the car engine coming to life.
“No, I’m alone. He's at the party.” You sigh, sitting on a nearby bench. The cold metal against your half-naked thighs makes you shiver, but your shins are starting to hurt a little. “And I’m alright, just tired.”
He doesn’t need to hear what happened right now, the least you can do is explain face to face.
“Doesn’t seem like it.” He mumbles. “You sound like you’ve been crying.”
You simply hum, waiting for him to end the call. He doesn’t, respecting your silence as he prefers having you on call not saying anything rather than hanging up and possibly leaving you alone in a dangerous situation.
When the Barnes’ familiar black SUV parks right in front of you, your body unconsciously stands up. You hang up, watching as Mr. Barnes quickly gets out of the car. Your lips part to apologize, but before you can even think about what to say, he’s on you, tightly hugging you to his broad chest.
Your mouth takes a weird shape as you try to stop a mortifying whine from coming out. Your eyes feel wet once again, this time you cannot stop the tears as they gradually wet his red henley.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who to call.” You swallow the tight knot in your throat. Your resigned tone is a pang to his heart. “My parents are out of town and Kate has my keys, but I didn’t want to go back there–” You hiccup, working yourself up.
“Hey, hey,” He gently pries your head away with a hand on your cheek, enough to examine your devastated eyes. “I’ve always told you to call me if you need something. Anything. So don’t you dare apologize. I’m so proud you remember it, sweetheart.” Your eyes lower at that, not knowing what to say.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Bucky’s other hand cradle your left cheek, his thumbs softly swiping away the tears still falling down. You swallow again, this time shaking your head lightly. Your jaw clenches at the sole reminder of what happened.
“Alright, alright. I won’t force you. Do you want to come home with me? It’s freezing and you’re–” He stops mid sentence as his blue eyes take you in fully. You suddenly feel so dumb for not bringing a jacket; despite the cold, you knew inside Rachel’s house it was going to be a furnace with all those sweaty people dancing and drinking. And it’s not like you planned to make a dramatic escape in the middle of the night.
Despite your internal scolding, you notice the way Mr. Barnes immediately snaps out of whatever he was thinking, glancing back at your face. You’re right under a lamppost, therefore it’s not hard to spot the redness taking over his cheeks. You’re his son’s girlfriend, of course he would feel uncomfortable having you so close and barely covered.
“I guess you didn’t want to hide your pretty outfit.” Your eyes widen at his amused smile. “You’re beautiful, by the way. A jacket wouldn’t have ruined it.” With a wink, he places a hand on your back, guiding you to his car. You’re still trying to process the compliment as he opens the car door on the passenger side, helping you inside.
He never explicitly called you beautiful. Sometimes, he would compliment your outfits, or call your makeup pretty. But it stopped there.
Once he’s inside and the engine is started, he turns on the heat. You shiver a little, your body gradually relaxing as you realize how cold you have been until now.
“Better?” He glances at you, receiving a simple grateful nod as answer. “Fuck, didn't even think about bringing you one of my jackets.”
Bucky maneuvres the vehicle on the roadway, unhurriedly driving back the way you came from. A sense of dread washes over you at the realization that to reach his home, you have to pass by your neighborhood, which means passing by Rachel’s house as well.
Bucky notices the way your body slightly slides down the seat, then your head turns to the window. As if you’re trying to hide, to not be noticed. He keeps an attentive eye on you until he’s driving by your house. He can’t help but glance at the chaotic mess that is the huge mansion, but there’s too many people and it’s too dark outside to recognize any of them. His son in particular.
“I saw Nathan with another girl.” You blurt out once Rachel’s house is out of sight. The car stutters a little, your stomach churning with a hint of anxiety, so you send a worried look to a shocked Mr. Barnes.
“Sorry.” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “How... ?”
You take a deep breath and your eyes land on the road in front of you, not strong enough to face him as you recount the events. “Kate caught him in one of the bedrooms upstairs. When I opened the door, I saw a girl straddling him. They were kissing and... Yeah, they were doing other things.” You sigh, swallowing back another lump.
“Apparently all those assignments and projects were just an excuse. They’ve been together since March and Nathan swore to her he was going to break up with me eventually.” Every word feels like glass on your tongue.
From your peripheral vision, you catch how his body abruptly goes rigid, his knuckles turning white; an apology is ready on your lips. What are you apologizing for? For bothering him to come pick you up? For revealing such a horrible fact about his son? You don't even know, but his devastated expression is enough to make you feel guilty.
What he does next takes you completely off guard.
His hand travels to yours over the console, intertwining his fingers with yours.
Mr. Barnes is very good with his words, but at the moment, his hold is worth more than some carefully crafted speech. The tears urgently sting the back of your eyeballs at the great comfort that the simple gesture brings you, yet you try to repress them, already mortified about having to be the one to tell him the truth behind your relationship.
Confused, you watch the car turn, coming to a stop at the roadside. Bucky exhales heavily once the engine is turned off, plunging you both into complete darkness. His body moves until he’s facing you as best as he can.
Mr. Barnes’ softly calls out your name, squeezing your fingers once. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?” Your chin slowly lifts, and even if reluctantly, you still turn your head towards the steering wheel, enough to catch him in your peripheral vision. “Thank you.”
“I know you’re hurting so much right now, and my words are meaningless in front of this great betrayal, but please, listen to me, sweetheart.” He slightly leans forward, a fierceness that you’ve never seen in his eyes sparkling amidst the blue. “Don’t let this go to your head, don't you think you are not enough. Sometimes people just don’t know what to do with something good when they have it. I’m deeply disappointed in him. I didn’t raise him to be like this and believe me, I will have words with him. Very strong ones.” You give him a faint smile, squeezing his hand back.
“Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Barnes. Also, your words are never meaningless to me.” You whisper, frowning at his chest. “He chose to do that on his own volition, he could have… Broken up with me,” your voice shakes. “Before starting something with her, but he took the easy way out.”
Mr. Barnes stares at the dashboard with empty eyes, scoffing a humorless laugh. “I guess the apple never falls far from the tree.” You raise both eyebrows at his bitter voice, before he glances at you with a faint smile. “My ex wife cheated on me, that’s why we divorced.”
Your jaw falls.
“Nathan was just thirteen but he had to witness how much his mom’s... choices took a toll on me. It wasn’t easy for him. I never dared to speak badly of her, never prevented him from seeing her. But he still chose to stay with me.” He sighs tiredly. “They went back on speaking terms just a couple of years ago; Nathan felt like she betrayed him as well, refused to even text her on Christmas. Has he ever told you that?” You simply shake your head.
“How could he...”
“I’m–I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t know… Nathan never told me the reason of your divorce.” You whisper.
He squeezes your hand. “No need to apologize, sweetheart. It’s… Well, the scars are there but they don’t hurt anymore.” You squeeze back, frowning at your knees.
“My point is, I’ve been through that before, and for a long time I was miserable and frustrated. At her, for screwing up everything we had built. At myself, for not noticing the signs sooner. At fate in general, because I regretted ever knowing her. Nathan was the only good thing that came out of that marriage.” He pauses, before his eyes land back on you. “My point is, some days you’re going to be mad; some days you’re going to stay in bed and cry your heart out. And some days… You’re going to miss the happy moments spent with him. But it won’t last forever.”
You suddenly find the glove box very interesting, clearing your throat before admitting what you've been realizing throughout your walk. “Is it… Is it wrong if I’m more upset about him betraying my trust than actually losing him?”
“What do you mean?” He slightly tilts his head, his way of letting you know he's here for you if you want to talk.
“He was always busy, and deep inside of me I knew something was up. I guess… Unconsciously, I’ve been trying to distance myself emotionally to not get hurt. I’m shaken about the fact that he cheated on me, and had a whole relationship going on with another girl behind my back. I had my suspicions confirmed. But... I’m not actually sad about… Losing him.” You exhale frustrated, straightening up on the seat. “I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”
“You’re angry because he made you doubt your self-worth.”
“Yes!” You exclaim, observing him as he nods.
“And you’re upset because he betrayed your trust.”
“Exactly. I’ve been feeling guilty since the time I went to the library to check if he was actually there. I felt like shit for a whole month because here I was, doubting the amount of work his teachers gave him, while he was breaking his back on those damn books. But no! He was fucking someone else all along.” Your hand reflexively covers your mouth as you glance at a chuckling Mr. Barnes with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be so crude.” He was still Mr. Barnes for fuck’s sake.
“Don’t you dare apologize. I feel so guilty whenever I swear around you, thought you never once cursed in your life.” You share a meaningful laugh, before silence takes over the poorly lit vehicle again.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You mumble, the corner of your mouth slightly lifted. He gives you one of his charming smiles back, squeezing your fingers one last time before he turns the engine on.
“You know I’m here for you, always.”
He claps his hands once, and all of a sudden it feels like that dark cloud of despair has finally dispersed. “C'mon now, let's go home so you can get comfortable and rest properly. You had a long night.”
“Are you sure you’re not busy? I don’t want to crash your free night–”
“Are you kidding? I love when you come over! And no, you didn’t interrupt anything. Actually, I was watching a movie and eating some of the leftover candies, waiting for a text that you both got home safely.”
When the car is parked in its usual spot, Mr. Barnes makes quick work of getting out, before sprinting to your side to open your door. Shyly, you thank him with a whisper.
You’re still not used to all these acts of service.
“Alright, here we are.” He breathes out, shoulders lowering significantly as if the sole familiar smell of his home has the powerful ability to throw any tension out of the door. He leaves his sneakers in the shoe rack by the entrance, and you do the same, putting your heels in the empty space that he vacated deliberately for you when Nathan started to bring you over more frequently.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to take a shower?”
You touch your temple, shutting your eyes momentarily. “Hm, just a headache from all the stress. But I would really love a shower. I feel all sweaty from the party and I’m pretty sure my clothes smell of smoke.”
He doesn’t bother to ask you if you’re sober, he knows you despise the taste of alcohol, but also any type of substance that could make you lose control. Mr. Barnes then leaves some Advil and a glass of water on the kitchen counter, before jogging upstairs to get you some clean clothes. You take your time in slowly finishing the whole glass, after walking and crying for so long and with a stomach full of fruity soft drinks, you desperately need to rehydrate your body. And maybe something to eat too.
Once you are alone in the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror makes you flinch instantly. Your make up is completely ruined, your lipstick smudged at the corners and the eye shadow completely fucked up under your eyes. The thought of Mr. Barnes seeing this mess makes you shudder, but you decide to ignore the embarrassment for now. Once you’re naked and ready to get inside the shower, a sealed bottle of micellar water and a sealed package of cotton pads lingering on the edge of the countertop catch your sight. With a relieved sigh, you quickly remove your ruined make up, making a mental note to thank Mr. Barnes for his thoughtfulness.
The warm water touching your skin and the pleasant floral smell of the products tidily lined up on the shower caddy allow your neck and shoulders to unleash quite a lot of tension. Once you’re completely dry, you wear the black shirt he left on the small stool by the bathtub and a pair of boxers that you adjust to your likings. You make sure to be presentable enough before going downstairs, but something catches your eyes again. Astonished, your eyes travel to some unopened products that you are very familiar with. You take the first one to examine it: a moisturizer for your type of skin. Next, a gentle cleanser. Then, a neutral-smelling deodorant; and lastly, a purple toothbrush still in its intact packaging.
Were these things for you? Did he buy them on purpose, even if it had been almost a year since the last time you stayed over?
When you silently enter the kitchen, the sight of Mr. Barnes’ broad back leaves you standing still for a few seconds. You lower your gaze at the warmth that spreads in your chest at how domestic this is. It’s not the first time he cooks for you, yet you’ve never been here at this time of the night, clad in his clothes.
Turning around, he places a plate on the table, before his eyes find you. He smiles, lips parting as if he wants to say something, but stops abruptly when his blue eyes fall on your naked legs. Clearing his throat, the man abruptly turns back around to swipe the counter.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, thank you for the clothes. And the sandwich.” You add, sitting at the table. It’s your favorite, you acknowledge with a soft smile.
“They fit you well. The clothes, I mean.” He mumbles, then whips his head slightly, smirking. “Still, I miss the Barbie outfit.” You giggle, not really knowing if he was simply joking, or if he did really mean it.
“Oh, I also wanted to thank you for all those hygiene products. When did you buy them?” You quip, devouring half of the bread as if you haven’t eaten in ages.
“I’ve been stocking them up since you started spending the night here, just in case you forgot to bring something.” He shrugs, sending you another one of his charming smiles. It comes so easy to him. He knew you were spending the night and he wished for you to be comfortable and safe in his home. Simple as that.
Whenever you went over to Nathan’s, you had to pack an overnight bag with all your things. You never thought about leaving something behind, because it was so sporadic for you to spend the night there, and he was also living with other three people, so you didn’t want to intrude. Yet, now that you’re realizing how much Mr. Barnes has been going out of his way to take care of you, you can’t help but think about how many things Nathan took for granted. Your own boyfriend.
When you finally move on the sofa, your body instantly turns slack as it touches the soft cushions. Your phone on the coffee table lits up once; from your slumped position you can read half of Wanda’s message.
You texted the group chat to let them know you’re safe with a friend. Yelena will understand immediately, you are sure. You catch a really sorry, but you don’t have the energy to deal with the situation. They know you’re alright and sheltered from the cold; tomorrow, you’ll reassure them that you don’t hold a grudge against them for fighting instead of telling you immediately what was going on. You don’t know what you’d have done in a similar situation, but right now you’re too drained to explain yourself.
Your eyes move back on the plasma screen, a mediocre horror movie playing on cable. It's hard to ignore the way Mr. Barnes keeps glancing your way, for a second you're sure you're imagining things, half delirious from exhaustion. When you decide to boldly turn, he doesn't even try to hide it.
You don't know who leaned in first, but one moment your noses are touching, the next he's kissing you like he's been craving it for a very long time. It's thrilling, the way his lips move against yours. One of his hands cups the back of your head, encouraging you to come closer until your fingers tangle in his henley.
It shouldn't feel this good. It shouldn't feel this exciting. It shouldn't...
It shouldn't happen.
“Wait–” You abruptly interrupt the kiss, panting as you horrifically stare at the carpet. “W–What… What are we doing?”
“Shit.” Bucky mumbles, his chest heaving as he tries to regain a crumb of control on his raging heartbeat. “I–I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Oh my God, I’m a terrible person!” You shriek, leaning forward on your elbows as you hide your face in your hand, the familiar sting of tears teasing the corners of your eyes.
“Hey, c'mon now sweetheart.” A warm palm lays on your trembling back, moving in smooth, round motions. “Why would you be a terrible person? You did nothing wrong.”
“I just kissed my ex-boyfriend’s dad!”
“If anything, I kissed you.”
“We both leaned in!”
“Okay, let's just take a deep breath–”
“It feels like I’m doing something bad–” A firm call of your name is enough to stop your rambling. Bucky's hand travels to the back of your neck, gently turning you until you are forced to face him.
“You know you don’t owe him anything, right?” He states solemnly.
“Why are you so calm? You’re his dad! I shouldn’t feel–” You stop abruptly. The way his eyes widen with hope makes you want to cry. Is it really happening? Has he been feeling this way too all this time?
“Feel what?” Bucky urges, taking your hand in his.
“I…”
“Feel what, sweetheart?” Shame keeps your throat closed, you are physically unable to utter any sound. So he takes the matter into his own hands, cradling your cheeks with his rough palms.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you came here running to tell me you’ve got an A on your paper about the evolution of language in online communities.” You gasp softly, shocked at how much he remembers about you.
“You looked at me with stars in your eyes, I felt so lucky to be the one to witness your happiness first hand. It was also the first time you hugged me. I just felt… Complete. I tried to ignore it, believe me sweetheart. I felt dirty whenever my eyes fell on the curve of your waist, whenever I imagined your lips on mine. You were Nathan's girlfriend, how could I ever forgive myself for being jealous of my own son for getting to have you like this? For being able to call you his?”
“I promised myself I would have distanced myself a little. My friends tried everything. Blind dates with their colleagues; friends of a friend; even relatives… But no one ever compared to your sparkly eyes and passionate speeches.”
“Nathan had his chance and he failed to take care of you. To love you like you deserve. He was so cruel, baby. And I can’t allow myself to stand by and watch you suffer, when I’m right here, begging you to let me show you how much I care for you. Let me be the real man you deserve by your side. Someone who can keep up with your liveliness, who can also give, not only take and take and take. Someone who knows what you need by just looking into your eyes.”
“And what do I need now, James?” His breath hitches, not expecting his first name to sound so right on your tongue. Bucky, James, Jamie… He didn’t care. He just needed you to demolish that already fractured wall of propriety that has kept you apart all along.
“My lips on yours.” His blue eyes shine with the clear evidence of his attraction to you, and that’s enough to give you that confidence boost you’ve been looking for a while. Your fingers graze his jaw for a fleeting moment, before you bring him closer by his cheek, pulling him until your lips touch his.
Your other hand tangles in his hair, and the guttural sound he makes in your mouth when you pull a little has your thighs squeezing together. His tongue roams freely, slowly, deeply, until oxygen leaves you entirely. You kiss for quite a while, your lips fitting together like the final two lost pieces of a puzzle. His hands palm the curve of your waist, until he finds the courage to guide you on his laps. A moan is muffled against your mouth when your covered crotches come into contact, his hard-on the proof that you’re not the only one excited for what’s to come. One palm sneakily trails up your torso, until it finds the side of your boob. A gentle squeeze elicits a gasp out of you, so you take the chance to grind down against his crotch, and he gasps back.
When you separate, wheezing and warm, his pupils are blown and his breathing harsher.
Your fingers finally allow themselves to do what they've secretly wished for a while; softly, they trace his features: from the gentle creases on his forehead, to his dark brows; then the sharp profile of his nose, his blushing cheekbones, the trim stubble on his jawline. His lips part just a fraction when your thumb caresses his bottom lip, trying to exhale as quietly as he can, frightened to interrupt this sublime moment.
“You’re stunning, James.” You utter softly, faintly smiling. Bucky sighs, closing his eyes as your fingers tenderly move on to his neck. Shuddering, the older man wraps one muscular arm around your back, bringing you closer until he can comfortably lean in to return the favor, pressing wet kisses on your neck. You let him, sighing every time his lips brush your skin.
“You’re driving me crazy.” He growls, a grin blooming on your mouth at his poorly concealed desperation. The hand firmly resting on your chest travels down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind; then over your half-bare thighs, until it lands on your covered ass. Your gasp gets swallowed by his mouth when he harshly squeezes the flesh, helping your hips in their circular movements. His groan makes your core tingle and suddenly you take notice of how damp the boxers you’re wearing are. When was the last time you let someone touch you like this?
This time this kiss is harder, more animalistic than the ones you previously shared, a testament of your growing arousal.
“Baby,” he breathes out, cradling your cheek to assure you’re making eye contact. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that right?”
“Hm?” Your actions are a little slow after the way his hands have gently played with your curves. The ghost of his palms on your chest and thighs tingles on your skin; your brain feels fuzzy, and you slightly tilt your head when he starts talking again.
“We can do whatever you want. Do you want to go back to watching the movie? Sure. Do you want to sleep? I’ll make the bed in the guest room right away.”
“What if I want you to fuck me?” The words feel like cotton candy on your tongue, yet you don’t miss the way his eyes widen in anticipation.
“Are you sure?” His voice shakes a little, as his hands when the squeeze your hips.
“Please.”
A squeal echoes in the living room as Bucky lifts you without much of a fuss. You keep your legs tightly wrapped around his waist as your arms circle his neck. He groans once as you can’t stop yourself from leaving small pecks on the tan skin under his jaw. It’s the first time you see his bedroom, yet it doesn’t feel as weird as it should.
Bucky places you down on the large bed against the wall. The big walk-in closet and his en-suite bathroom get completely ignored as Bucky’s six feet form covers yours without actually resting his full weight on you. Your lips meet again and this time his palm travels under his shirt, finding your bare chest.
“James!” You wheeze, hips twitching up as his fingers graze your already erect nipple. You’re now fully lying on your back with his hard body straddling you, but a slightly push on his chest is enough for him to immediately lift his torso up.
“Are you oka–”
“I feel so good. I just– I need to make something clear.” This time it's you who cradles his jaw. “I like you, James. I think I have for a while, actually. It wasn’t just pure admiration. And this,” your finger wriggles between you two, pointing at your chests. “It’s not a one-night stand for me. I don't want you to think you’re... Some sort of revenge; much less a rebound.”
“This is my dream come true.” He mumbles against your lips, caressing the back of your head in awe.
“I’m gonna make this right, okay sweetheart?” Bucky kisses your forehead, then your cheeks. “I’m gonna take care of you.” Next it’s your neck. “Play with your sweet pussy until you are nice and ready for me.” Your eyes roll back as his hot breath tickles the sensitive skin behind your ear. The fingers trailing up your thigh finally reach the inner part, his thumb stroking the damp fabric of his dark boxers right where you need him.
“Then I’m gonna fill you up,” your hips buckle up once and he chuckles elated. “You like that, angel? Like the idea of me stuffing you full with my cum?”
“Please.” You moan, squeezing his forearm.
Bucky’s shaky exhale gives his excitement away, despite his firm words. “Gonna take you on a date tomorrow, alright?” You nod, swallowing as his other palm leaves shivers on your bare stomach, lifting the shirt up up to your stomach. “Give you everything you deserve and more.”
His smirk widens when you whine as he lifts himself enough to remove your top. A low groan falls down his lips when your naked chest is finally exposed. His large hands cup your tits without much thought, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples, eliciting another whine from you. You finally look up at his face, biting your bottom lip when you notice the way his eyes have gone darker like the ocean abyss, as they stare at the way your boobs fit perfectly inside his palms.
“Such gorgeous tits, sweetheart.” Your cheeks instantly heat up at the praise; overwhelmed by the sudden attention on your naked torso, you try to turn away, but Bucky is faster. Cradling your cheeks, he lifts your head until you are forced to stare right at him.
“None of that. Need you to lay back and watch me as I worship you, sweetheart.”
The boxers are suddenly discarded on the floor. It’s electrifying, being so open for Bucky to admire. You’re quivering under his devoted gaze and faint smile, your breath hitching each time his fingers stroke a patch of tender skin as he takes his time in appreciating every single curve, every single aspect that you consider a flaw; to him, they’re new features to cherish. A way to learn you in the most intimate of ways.
You don’t even notice the way your eyelids have fluttered shut. The rustling sound of fabric is what drives you to open them in time to catch Bucky throwing his shirt somewhere on the ground.
He truly is stunning, with his strong physique and his muscles still defined, even with the small layer of fat covering most of it.
With a small smile, he guides your legs up until your feet are firmly planted on the mattress and your knees bent.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He makes a show of gasping as he lays between your thighs, his nose almost touching your bare core. “Look at this. Already so wet for me, pretty girl?” To be fair, you think this is the most aroused you’ve been in your whole life.
It’s mortifying how quickly your first orgasm approaches you, it only took him a few languid circling movements on your clit and you’re already shaking against the beige bedsheets.
Breathy moans and whimpers fall from your parted lips as he teases you. “You’re so sensitive, baby.” He marvels, licking his lips. “But not yet.” His fingers leave your throbbing nub at once, your pathetic whine only fueling his teasing.
“I know, sweetheart.” Bucky hums, thick finger gently tracing up and down the seam of your entrance. “Gonna make it better right now, don’t worry.” His digit is inside you; your limbs go rigid, before his other hand comes up, stroking your clit to make you relax. You sigh at the sensation and Bucky feels your hole gradually making room for another finger. “There we go. Feels good, right?”
Your eyes squeeze shut as you can only nod, your own hand shooting down to grasp one of his shoulders as the tip of his tongue replaces the fingers taunting your clit. The first swipe makes you immediately stiffen.
“Bucky!” Your wanton moan resounds through the dimly lit room, making his cock twitch with interest.
“Jesus Christ.” The vibrations elicited from his growl are pleasant against your tender core. “Has anyone ever tasted you, baby?”
“N–No.” You cry out as his fingers push against your sweet spot.
“Fucking fools.” He snarls. “I’ll take care of you from now on, sweet girl.” He rasps out, eager to go back to your sweet slick.
“B–Bucky!” You sniffle, clenching the muscle of your stomach to keep your orgasm at bay.
“Oh I know, I know baby. You’re gripping me so tight, can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock.” Your hips twitch up again, but his unoccupied arm blankets your belly to keep you nice and still as he enjoys his meal. The way his stubble leaves crude marks against your skin makes your back arch as high as his heavy arm allows.
“You know, sweetheart felt like the safest option,” he pants, coming up for air with his lips glistening with your arousal. “Now I can finally call you whatever I want.”
“Baby, darling, doll– oh.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way you clenched at the last pet-name, but of course the smug bastard did.
“You like when I call you doll?” You toss your head back as his thumb goes back to play with your sensitive nub. You are only able to stutter out an embarrassed yes, but it is enough to make Bucky smirk.
“Yeah, doll?” He relishes in the way you clench around his knuckles, knowing you’re at your limit now.
“Give it to me, doll. C’mon, I can feel you need to.” He growls against your thigh. “I’ve been patient for too long.”
Your head falls back against his pillow as your eyes fall shut, your first orgasm of the night hitting you hard, leaving you whimpering and shaking under his hands. Your body tightens as wave after wave of pleasure seeps deep into your bones, your pussy repeatedly clenching around his damp fingers.
“Gorgeous.” Your nails cling into his shoulder as you ride it out, humping his face under his soft grunts of encouragement. Bucky's hips have been jerking against the mattress for a while now, unable to stay stoic in front of a such a goddess unraveling before him. With a final teasing lick to your clit, his thick fingers finally pull away. You’re still breathless when he lifts himself up, enough to pull you into another feral kiss. Tasting yourself on someone's tongue is definitely new, but not unpleasant.
“Wish I could stay between your thighs all night.” He mumbles against your lips. Kissing Bucky… It’s just so lovely. Especially right now, when you're so close to each other the hair on his chest tickles your nipples. You gasp at the light stimulation, completely missing the way one of his hands abandons you to discard his boxers.
When he gets into an upright position, you finally catch a glimpse of it. Even his cock is beautiful, for fuck’s sake. You gulp once at the sight of how majestic he looks, naked and kneeling for you, before your eyes meet his amused ones. His arms wrap around your thighs without a word, dragging you closer to him until his cock brushes against your core. His tongue is inside your mouth before you can even let a full gasp out. Whining, your fingers slip into his hair as he teases the seam of your entrance with his tip.
“So eager.” He chuckles at your twitching hips, before extending his arm towards the night stand.
“No!” Your fingers immediately wrap hard around his bicep, causing Bucky to freeze.
“I’m clean, got tested last month, and I’m on the pill.” You wheeze out, half-nervous he would refuse your implicit proposal.
Bucky scrutinizes you with surprise, leaving a peck on your lips. “I’m clean too. Are you sure, sweetheart?” He frowns.
“I’ve never let anyone else inside without.” You swallow, taking his hand in yours to bring it on your chest. “Want you to be the first.” You whisper.
“Fucking hell.” He groans, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. It’s your turn to smirk now, until you feel the head of his cock back against your hole.
“Oh.” You squeak when he slides in halfway without much resistance on your part; the sight of your glassy eyes rolling back has him moaning.
“Feeling alright, doll?”
“Fuck– yes!” You gasp, stiffening at the burning stretch. “More, please!”
After what seems forever, Bucky bottoms out, jaw clenched and cock twitching at the mere thought of finally being inside his girl. Trying to calm the both of you down, he stills, letting his lips find yours. It only worsens the situation, as he feels your body gradually grow pliant under him. The lewd wet sounds of your mouth moving against each other only spur him on as his hips involuntarily jerk forward.
“James.”
“Yes, I know sweetheart.” He coos at your whines. “Gonna make the ache go away, hm?”
Dragging his hips back slightly, he carefully watches your expression, and when he finds no sign of discomfort, he lets himself slip right back in, harder.
“Oh, sweet girl.” He grins as you cling to his forearms. “That feels good, right?” Leaning in to plant his lips right over your eyebrow, he lets his hips slowly move back, biting back a loud groan at the sweet stimulation of your clenching walls. “Need to see you fall apart on my cock.” He grunts instead.
“Please! Please, Bucky.” You cry out, eyes rolling back again as the tip nudges against your sweet spot. Your moans grow higher and louder as he rocks faster, your slack body trapped under him sliding up and down the mattress with each brutal thrust.
Bucky loses himself a little in the moment as he buries his nose against the damp skin of her neck, licking and kissing away the salty tang of your sweat, finally fucking you properly. The clap of your skins shamelessly fills the bedroom, mixing with your labored breaths and desperate moans.
“Shit, doll.” He growls. “Need this all the time, need to hear your cute squeals as I carve a place for my cock inside your cute little pussy.” You find out you love this position with Bucky. You feel so close to him, and it allows you to touch each other however you want. The way he kisses you, how his cock fits so perfectly inside you, it stirs a warm feeling inside your chest.
“Such a good girl for me, taking all of me so well.” He gushes, smiling at your connected lower half.
“Come with me?” You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as the knot in your lower belly rapidly gets closer to snapping.
“Want to give you another one.” He pants, slowing down. “I’m not so young anymore, sweet thing.” The back of his hand brushes your cheek with such gentleness you almost forget the hard length pounding your hole, before resuming his punishing pace under your delirious moans.
Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body tensing as your back arches.
“That’s it!” He grunts, keeping his eyes firmly on your face. Your legs dangerously tremble as they tighten around his waist. “So tight, so good for me. My good girl.” Bucky grits out, muscles rigid as he hardly fends off the ravaging orgasm threatening to make him fall apart; yet he keeps going, wanting to prolong your orgasm as long as he can. When he hears a whimper bordering on painful, and your palms shoot down to push at his chest, his hips gradually come to a stop.
“Holy fuck.”
Your legs are pleasantly aching by the time you are coming down from your earth-shattering climax. Bucky is still trying to regain his composure as he nuzzles against your collarbone, jaw clenched and bones shaking with the primal need to paint your insides.
He's at his limits. He always takes such good care of you, your beautiful, kind Mr. Barnes.
And now it’s your turn.
“Get up.” You mutter, pushing at his pecs. Panic briefly crosses his features as he clumsily lifts up. You don’t let him go too far, as you gently push him until he's laying on his back. When you land directly on his crotch, cock still snuggled inside you, his eyes widen in astonishment.
Everything feels more sensitive like this.
You don't care about your aching joints, immediately opting for a fast pace. You bounce up and down, biting your bottom lip as you stare at his half-shut eyes. You couldn't be more grateful for Nathan to have his mom's eyes. Your combined labored breathes make you squeeze his length, loving the way you sound together. Bucky couldn't agree more, but he's too busy pawing your hips with one hand, and groping your boob with the other, to rationally think about something clever that would surely turn this debauched angel on his laps into the bashful girl that he's grown to adore.
You're not sure how long has it been, but what makes you still it's not the sudden uncomfortable stiffness in your knees, but rather a door slamming shut.
You stop immediately, your widening eyes meeting Bucky's surprised ones. His shock, though, has a very short life, as his hands land on both of your hips with a resounding smack, encouraging you to go on.
“Bucky!” You reprimand him, gasping at the abrupt stimulation against your sweet spot. The older man under you slowly lifts his torso up, encircling your waist as he guides you down, until his forehead rests against yours.
“We have already established that we like each other and that this,” he points between you just like you did before. “is not a one time thing.” You nod, panting as you are alarmingly aware of all the noises coming from downstairs. His bare feet thumping against the tiles, the cabinet closing, the small sigh of relief after drinking some water.
“Don't you want to give him a taste of his own medicine?” You can't believe the glint of mischief that sparkles in his azure eyes.
“He's your son!” You whisper-shout, partial to his proposal but still too timid to go along with it.
“And you're my girl.” He retorts with the same heat, his pupils on fire. “The same girl he cheated on for eight months.”
Something shatters inside your chest. You don't know if it's the reality finally catching up to you, the humiliation shaping into something fiercer, hotter. Or maybe it's the way this absolutely lovely man just defined you his girl so easily. No shame, no reservations.
Your palms press against his shoulders, urging him to lay back down. The slow smirk forming on his lips matches your indulgent smile.
“Fuck.” Your hips resume their pace with a newfound strength.
“You're doing so well, sweet thing. Look at you, taking all my cock in your tight little pussy. My pretty girl, aren't you?” His dirty words only spur you on, leading his hands back where they were before. In the meantime, the stairs creaks under careful yet not-so silent steps, as Nathan warily makes his way up.
“Yes! O–Oh Mr. Barnes, 's so big.” You cry out, completely forgetting about your ex probably standing outside the door. You don't miss the way Bucky's breath hitches at the same title you used to softly utter with so much admiration and respect, now sounding so beautifully obscene as you cry for his cock. Faintly smiling, you squeeze the hand on your chest, Bucky immediately looking up from your core engulfing his length.
“Yeah? And whose pussy is this, hm?” His fingers settle on your clit with determination, careful to put the right pressure, and you respond immediately, riding him faster as your hole clenches like a vice around him.
“Yours! Fuck, yours!”
"Good girl.” He groans, using every bit of self-restraint to not succumb to the heavenly feeling of your pussy desperately clenching around his leaking cock.
“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck p–please Mr. Barnes!”
“That's it. Come for me, my beautiful girl.” Your third climax of the night is the most intense. You shatter with a loud shriek, collapsing against Bucky's chest as he promptly catches you. The urgent noise of footsteps climbing down the stairs and the finality with which the entrance door snaps shut are completely disregarded as you fall apart on Bucky's twitching cock. You cling to his large frame, shaking and whimpering as his hips ruthlessly chase his own pleasure.
“Can't stop, you feel so fucking good, angel.” The crack in his voice tells you he's close, his hands keeping you nice and still as you let him use you. With one last effort, your chin lifts enough for you to whisper right into his ear.
“Come inside me, Mr. Barnes.”
It's like a switch goes off in his brain. His grip around your thighs tighten, his filthy groans get louder and needier. His hips thrust up once, twice, and then he pushes you down on him, ropes after ropes of his cum reaching the deepest part of you. Your content hum at the surreal sensation of being filled up soothes him a little, his body finally falling back against the mattress.
“Shit,” Bucky harshly exhales, staring dumbfound at the ceiling. “I've never come this hard in my life, sweet girl. Look at you, took it all inside and didn't waste a single drop.” You squirm lightly under his soft palms tracing a path up and down your back, both of you silently agreeing to take your time in pacifying your shaky limbs before making any abrupt movement.
“C'mere and give me a kiss, doll. You've been so good for me.” He coaxes you out of your hiding place against his neck with a finger under your chin. You lazily follow, meeting his lips in a passionate, much more languid kiss.
“The best.” Kiss. “Prettiest.” Kiss. “Girl.” Kiss.
“Bucky!” He smiles brightly at your little giggle, enjoying how serene you look, safe in his arms.
“So, about that date…”
𝜗ৎ end notes
1. I just wanted to say that I read some complains around about stories in which the reader has preferences in terms of food, colors, style, etc. and personally, I always try to be as neutral as possible, but at least for me, it's very hard to not put random facts about what I imagine the protagonist's life to be and her preferences. I'm sorry if that's not your cup of tea, but I honestly love when authors give their reader likes, dislikes, etc. even if they don't align with my preferences.
2. thank you so much for reading this! part 2 will come out on monday 10th november.
