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Summary: After Bucky kisses you goodbye at the Police Station, it's time to get back to business. But you couldn't have anticipated what that would entail.
Ch 19 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 18 | Ch. 20
Warnings: language, Bucky's anxiety/PTSD, Zemo is an Asshole™, New Player Character Unlocked: Sam Wilson, pet names, the idiots in love are mushy… I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!
AN: Hello!! I'm back from the grave with this chapter that I had absolutely zero motivation for 😅 If you missed it, i made a little life update that might explain why I haven't been able to find the will to finish this chapter in a timely manner… But I love the way it came out! And I'm so fucking ready to write the next chapter, you guys have no idea. I've been thinking about it for like a year at this point, lol, I just wanna get my hands in there!!!
As always, thank you to @deceiver-of-gods for being my forever beta reader and helping me work through this chapter, and to all of you who have either found the series or stuck around for my poorly-timed chapter updates 😅 Enjoy!!
"That is why we are going to Madripoor," Zemo concluded, after unfolding his plan, sitting comfortably in his jet — if Bucky trusted his memory, which the serum obliged him to do, his training in aircraft types led him to believe was a Bombardier Challenger 600. And, based on what he saw from the German prison's cold interiors and harsh environments, Zemo had to be thrilled to be sitting in these leather seats again, rather than enduring the unforgiving surfaces prisons like that tried to call a bed. Sam and Bucky's presence as stand-in babysitters was probably only a minor deterrence, being able to do mostly as he pleased amongst his own possessions again. Though, based on the history of their relationship, Bucky didn't quite trust where the Baron drew the line of a mild inconvenience, or an action item further down on the to-do list.
"What's up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island," Sam questioned. A few memories flashed across Bucky's eyelids, all of them from trips that were less than voluntary on his part. He remembered being hot, the humid air of the tropical landscape only adding to the suffocating feeling of the leather tactical gear he was forced to parade around in.
"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s," Bucky answered, trying to pull back from his less than savory experiences there. He'd read about Madripoor in his attempts to make amends, coming to find the history of the island itself somewhat fascinating. However, based on his memories of Lowtown, he was still relieved not to have anyone on his list still residing there. He'd been hopeful he wouldn't ever have to return… so much for that.
"It's kept it's lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." Zemo met Bucky's gaze, and his stomach dropped. "James... you will have to become someone you claim is gone."
"He's not that guy anymore," Sam defended, and the conviction in his statement gave Bucky a chance to take a deeper breath. "He's been pardoned by the US Government, why would the Winter Solider pop back up again? It doesn't make any sense."
"It doesn't have to," Zemo continued coolly. "We've all seen that James has been pardoned, yes. But as far as Madripoor is concerned, it may as well be a false sense of security for the people who will be walking amongst him. It is very possible that – with the right codes – The Winter Solider could return again."
"But he can't. They don't work, he's gone," Sam confuted sternly, taking the sharp words right out of Bucky's mouth. Zemo shifted in his chair. It was kind of satisfying to watch his discomfort in not getting his way… The coziness he felt from being back to a certain level of luxury was likely being drowned out by a creeping feeling of still being trapped. He had the illusion of being free, but he was going to have to deal with them in order to get any further. And Bucky wanted to make him work for it.
"Of course. You and I know that, but the people of Madripoor do not. So long as we keep up the charade, they have no reason to believe otherwise." Sam looked uncomfortable, Zemo seemed to be waiting for a rebuttal, and Bucky tried one last time to come up with literally any other solution… but all he could think about was the way the wet heat would make him sweat under that god forsaken mask, and make his goggles fog up until he couldn't make out much of lowtown, relying on the silhouettes of his handlers to get to the mission target.
"The Winter Solider wasn't one to talk, so… it's not like it should be hard to sell," Bucky reasoned, making en effort to keep his voice steady. Not that he was captivated with this plan… but with a severe lack of other options, he needed to do his part to start easing the tension that was starting to build up in his shoulders. He didn't have to talk. All he had to do was sit there and stare. He could do that…
He cleared his throat, and made his best attempts to return back to something resembling nonchalant. "If that's settled, I've gotta make a call," he stated with conviction, as if this was just part of business. Sam gave him a knowing look, and Zemo bowed his head in a polite gesture, but Bucky could see the interest on his face. Bucky wanted to smack it off of him, but instead, he stood from his seat and walked to the back of the jet before either of them could say a word.
When you picked up on the other end, a wave of relief washed over him.
"Hi love!!" you almost sang, your warm voice reaching out through the phone to soothe the pressure building inside him. He could feel some of his anxieties quiet, the comfort of being at least somewhat connected to you again starting to melt the top few layers of his stress. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Can't I just call cause I want to?" he almost whispered, wanting so badly to just slip back into comfortable banter with you, yet knowing that he didn't want to let his guard down in murky territory. If he'd given it a bit more thought with a sound mind, even having this conversation was a risk… but he needed you, and you needed to hear something from him.
"Well I'll take it… but I know better than to assume you're just calling to catch up."
"I… wish I could prove you wrong," he admitted, unable to help the smile on his face when he heard you laugh on the other end. As you did, he could hear Sam's voice from the other side of the curtain — Bucky doubted he would willingly start up a conversation with Zemo just to fill the silence, but it was perfectly timed to give Bucky a chance to talk with some sort of cover. He'd have to thank Sam for that later.
"Maybe you will another time," you assured him, your soft smile slipping into your words. "What's up, Buck? It's loud on your end, where are you?"
"That's probably the engines. Hopefully you can hear me okay, I'm uh… I'm on a jet." He knew better than to beat around the bush, but despite the soothing effect you had on him, having to tell you something you weren't going to like was forming a knot in his stomach.
"Aren't you so fancy," you teased. "Which one of your rich Avenger friends hooked you up with that ride?"
Fuck… He really didn't want to say it. But the idea of you finding out through headlines, potentially reading ill-informed details, made his stomach churn even more. No, it was better to just get it out now.
"It's, well… we're with Baron Zemo."
The line went uncharacteristically quiet.
"That name sounds familiar…" you managed. But he knew you – you were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you shouldn't have. You were smarter than that. And it would have made his job easier if you'd have just taken the words out of his mouth.
"It should. I… He's the one who found my codes last time. He killed King T'Chaka…. He's going to be helping us."
There was another beat of silence, and if he trusted his hearing over the engines of the Challenger 600, he could hear you take a steadying breath.
"James…" you practically pleaded. "What did you do?"
Part of him wished you would yell. Scream at him, tell him off for doing something so stupid… It wouldn't change their plan, but he had a weird sense it would've made him feel better than this.
"We– I got him out of prison. It's not great, but… we need him. We had nothing to go off of, and he has intel we can't get anywhere else," Bucky explained. "I just wanted you to hear it from me first, so that you know that I've got it under control, and that I'll be okay."
"Bucky, you…" you started, but paused for a moment. You made a sound of irritation before taking a breath. "You'd better be," you said quietly – half of it was a plea, and half of it was a threat. "You know I don't want to ask this of you, after watching you trust people again… but you cannot trust him. I might be on the outside of all of this, but I doubt his time in prison has changed his opinions about you. Don't let your guard down around him for one minute, do you hear me?" you scolded. There was his girl.
"Yes ma'am," he answered, the corners of his lips turning upwards of their own accord. "I've got Sam, we'll both be keeping an eye on him. I'm sure he'll be a challenge, but we should be able to keep him under control."
"Don't jinx it, James, or I'll hurt you."
"And how do you plan on–"
"Don't make me figure it out," you finished, a frustrated chuckle slipping past your resolve. "I love you."
With three words, he could almost close his eyes and be right back home in your apartment, your favorite record playing and fresh banana bread forgotten on the counter. His perfect memory recounted – as if in real time – how your soft skin felt underneath his fingers, feeling as though he could reach out now and pull you into him, slipping back towards bliss…
But he had a job to do. If for no reason that to return back to you with a clear mind, knowing that he'd done what was necessary to keep you safe.
He backed himself into the very farthest corner away from the privacy curtain, and waited for Sam's voice to pick back up again before he answered, "I love you, doll."
As the jet approached Madripoor, Sam couldn't wait to get off. More importantly, out of this damn suit. It rubbed him the wrong way. Not necessarily the fit – in fact, the fit was damn close to impeccable. But where Zemo got such a specific suit, fit to his body, while under their supervision, in such a short amount of time… The math was weird.
The last time they were dealing with Zemo, there was a whole team of super-powered, ultra rich, or genetically engineered people standing both beside him, and against him. Now, it was just him and Bucky against this mysterious contact Zemo had in what seemed to be a playground for the worst kind of people. Hell, their plan was banking on nobody batting an eye at the Winter Soldier walking around again as if he'd just gotten back from sabbatical.
There was no doubt that Zemo had multiple layers of tricks up his sleeves, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and accomplish his own agenda, and Sam didn't like it one bit. The sooner they could move on to the next problem, the better he would feel.
He glanced over at the offending Baron, looking all too comfortable laid back in his seat, peering out the window at the city lights as they began descending. Then, Sam looked over at the privacy curtain Bucky was behind, as he had been for the last ten minutes. What was he doing in there?
"Hey man, you ready yet?" He called out.
"Just give me a fucking minute," Bucky choked. Immediately, alarm bells started ringing in Sam's head. Bucky was hot-headed — he either shut off completely, or lashed out. He'd never heard the super-soldier sound so vulnerable. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Zemo cozy up in his chair… So he heard the tonal change, too.
He wasn't going to let him sit in the satisfaction for long.
Sam approached the curtain in the back of the Jet, and gave an attempt of a knock on the wall just outside. "You better make yourself decent, cause I'm coming in." After a short beat, Bucky answered.
"I- I'm fine," he muttered. He almost sounded meek, and that didn't sit right for the man who was supposed to be the White Wolf.
When Sam slipped through the curtain, Bucky was still fully clothed, as if he hadn't even attempted to change. But rather than letting his initial perception influence his reaction, Sam took a moment to clock Bucky's features. This wasn't him being stubborn, Sam knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't do something stupid at a time like this.
Instead, Sam found an expression he'd seen too many times before. It took him back to the halls of the VA, where Veterans of all walks of life came for guidance, to find some semblance of relief from the demons they carried back with them. The very halls where Steve Rogers once walked, and changed Sam's life forever.
This version of Bucky wasn't stubborn… he needed help. This wasn't time to be an Avenger, it was time to help a fellow veteran cope with some serious shit.
Sam followed Bucky's gaze to the folded pile of tactical gear sitting on the seat across from him, and the mask that had fallen to the floor.
"Hey man… we don't have to do this. We can find another way," Sam leveled. Bucky gave the slightest shake of his head.
"No… no, we have to do this. It's not going to work any other way." Bucky rasped, his eyes telling Sam this is what he'd been doing for the past ten minutes. Trying to think of any other plan… and when he came up short, attempting to come to terms with putting that persona back on, before desperately willing a new plan to come to him. If Sam had to wager a guess, Bucky had probably cycled through this draining thought process at least four times.
"Okay. Then what do you need? What's going to make it okay for you to get to the other side?" Sam asked earnestly. If there wasn't a way around it, sometimes you just had to adjust, and figure out how to get through. Bucky thought for a second, his eyes darting between the pieces of the Winter Soldier getup in front of him.
"I can't be muzzled again," he said, barely above a whisper. "I don't want to feel like I'm stuck being someone's attack dog again. I'm not… I'm not that person anymore." He heard what wasn't being said; Bucky was still telling himself that, as much as he was telling Sam.
He could work with that.
Sam nodded, and wordlessly made his way over to the offending object. He gave it one final glance, before stomping his foot onto it, the plastic material crunching under his shoe. With the sound of it's destruction, Bucky took a sharp inhale, clearly not expecting the harsh reaction from – by most accounts – the more level-headed of the two. But after the shock wore off, Bucky's breathing was a little bit more stable. So, for good measure, Sam did it again until he felt another harsh snap beneath his foot.
Stepping back, the mask was now shattered into at least three large pieces and a handful of little shards, having been rendered completely unwearable. Looking back up at his companion, the super-soldier seemed much more at ease… but it was almost as if he was still coming down from something as close to a panic attack as his enhanced body would let him get.
Pushing all of his personal grudges to the side, Sam fully embraced his past from the VA, reaching out to wrap Bucky in a tight hug. He half expected to be pushed away, but it didn't take long for Bucky to return it. As weird as this was for both of them, the contact was going to help Bucky regulate his nervous system.
After his uneven breathing started to fall into a definitive rhythm, Sam gave him a reassuring squeeze before pulling back to give Bucky his space. The latter took a deep breath, and nodded his head. A silent — manly — sign of thanks. Sam returned his nod, giving him an equally if not more manly pat on his shoulder before turning away, picking up the pieces of the shattered mask on his way out.
"Is James ready?" Zemo asked as Sam entered the main cabin. He looked a little too comfy, his interest a little too piqued for Sam's liking.
"He's not wearing that mask," was Sam's only answer.
"Samuel, it would be beneficial—"
"He's not. Wearing. The mask," he asserted, and before Zemo could try to make another argument, Sam made the pieces in his hands visible to Zemo before tossing them to the side. There was a beat of silence, Sam daring the Baron to say something, and Zemo clearly recognizing a boundary that was not in his best interest to cross.
"…Understood. I trust James will have no issues selling the role," he replied with an air of practiced politeness.
"No, he won't." Zemo gave a small nod of understanding, and Sam let his shoulders relax. The sooner they could all get out of these costumes, the better.
"Okay, but did you hear what the client's response was though?" River asked you from her desk, situated right behind yours.
"No, what'd they say?" You asked, already turned half-way around in your swivel chair to face her.
"They told him it felt lazy, and that he should – and I quote – 'do a thorough review of the specifications they've already sent over before coming back with another attempt'," she disclosed, as the two of you partook in one of her favorite past times; complaining about Paul.
"You're kidding…" River shook her head, a shit-eating grin across her face. "Good for them. It's about time he got called out for scraping by."
If it were possible to have a mortal enemy at the workplace, and still be a sane and adjusted human being… that would be how River felt about Paul. But you couldn't blame her. You may not have had the misfortune of working with him nearly as often as she did, but the stories you'd heard of his utter disregard for his own tasks made you angry enough to hate him by proxy.
"I'm just waiting for them to file a complaint to someone a little bit higher, so I can be soooo collected and level headed when I suggest taking over the project. I just think that–"
River was cut off when your phone started to ring. You fumbled through your bag to silence it and continue in your friend's workplace delusions, until…
"It's James," you said quietly. River's demeanor changed completely.
"Go on!" She waved you off. You were never more grateful than moments like these that you had confided in her with at least a teeny bit of what was actually going with you and Bucky. When there was an opportunity to be there for you, River never failed to rise to the occasion.
You made to ask for a plan, while absentmindedly glancing down at your phone to make sure you still had time to answer. Before you could get any words out, River answered the question you hadn't asked. "I'll cover for you!! It's not like they actually check on us, anyway. Go enjoy your man!"
"Thank you!" You whispered as you stood from your chair to find somewhere you wouldn't be interrupted. River pointed towards the sunny balcony typically used for smoking breaks, silently continuing to wave you off. Thankful that the weather was decent, and the space was currently unoccupied, you answered his call.
"Hi Peach," James's deep voice came through your phone speakers, and you couldn't help the smile that rose to your cheeks.
"Hi! I miss you!" You gushed, his quiet laughter lighting you up from the inside. "How are you doing? What's going on?"
"I'm okay, we were just in Madripoor – it's this anarchic type place a lot of bad circles run through. I'm glad to be leaving, it was… I'll just say that it's nice to be getting out of hot water," he half-explained. Somehow, you weren't amused by his attempt at a joke.
"I'm guessing I don't want to know what that means?" You questioned, beginning to pace across the balcony. There were only a few windows to the office inside, so you would just have to keep an eye out for any signs from River every couple minutes. But you could let your guard down a little bit, not being on display for the whole office floor to see.
"Mmm, no probably not. At least, not until I've got a few more answers for you," he mused.
"Well then, I will trust your judgment," you reasoned, at least earning another quiet snicker. "Where're you guys headed off to now? Are you still with…"
"Yes, we're still traveling with Zemo. He's… trouble, to say the least. But admittedly, he still has value. We wouldn't have gotten this far without him." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, willing yourself to stop imagining all the different ways you could interpret 'trouble' for someone with Helmut Zemo's history. "We're following a lead to the Baltics, so we've got a few hours to kill before we get there. And the other two are sleeping, as far as I can tell, so I wanted to take you up on that chance to prove you wrong."
"To prove me… what?" You laughed, not quite connecting the dots.
"When I called a few days ago, there wasn't much time to catch up. Now I have lots of time, and I want to hear about you. How are you doing?" He asked earnestly, and such a simple gesture shouldn't have made you quite so gooey inside, but you couldn't help the girlish grin that spread across your face.
You missed him. And you would take any chance to spend time with him you could, even if it was just a phone call with jet engines in the background.
"Well I'm great now!" He gave a deeper laugh in response, and you could feel yourself relaxing into the familiarity of it. "I'm doing okay! I mean, I wish you could be here, obviously, but I've been fine. River's been really good at making sure I get out of the apartment. We've actually been hanging out with everyone from the diner a bunch! Grabbing lunch on the weekends, or going to hang out at the monuments."
"That's great! I'm glad to hear you're hanging out with everyone," Bucky enthused, but there was a slight hesitation. "Does that mean you've been going back to the diner?" You gave a sarcastic laugh.
"I'll give you one guess."
"Why not? You love it there, I bet they'd be really happy to see you on the dance floor again," he encouraged, but you both knew that wasn't going to happen.
"Yeah, and it'd remind me that you're still gone, so I'll pass on the additional heartbreak. Besides, I know you don't want me dancing with anyone else, so don't act like you're all that disappointed." He was silent for a beat, only proving to make you laugh in lieu of your correct assessment.
"I- yes, you're right, but that's because I want to be there dancing with you. But your reason is fair, I can't argue with that," he settled. "What else have you guys been doing?"
"Well, we've been to a few of the museums, except of course for the Air and Space. Izzy seemed really excited to go, but –" Bucky made a noise of indecision. "Right. I know there is – or at least there used to be a big ol' portrait of your face in there, I don't know what it looks like after the remodel."
"Probably a good call, I think I remember seeing a more in-depth Winter Soldier section in some of the news coverage…"
"Oh gosh, yeah, either way, I was not ready for that conversation. So I made up some bullshit about not wanting to see any promotional shit for the New Captain America," you explained, and Bucky gave a deep belly laugh in response. "I thought you'd like that… I don't know how well I sold it, but River said something about having just gone to another aviation museum nearby and really didn't want a repeat, so we pivoted to one of the other museums."
"That sounds fun! I'm very glad to hear that River is in your corner. Makes me breathe a little easier knowing someone's got your back while I can't be there," he admitted softly.
"Me too, I'm glad her and I are so close." You peeked back into the office to scan for River, who was sitting casually at her desk, until her eyes ever so slightly popped over her cubicle wall. She raised an eyebrow at you, and gave a tentative thumbs up. You nodded, watching her visibly relax. "She's actually doing me a favor for me right now, she offered to cover for me while I stepped out to take your call."
"Oh shit, you're at work, aren't you?" Bucky cursed, concern lacing the edge of his voice. "I totally forgot what day it was, I can let you–"
"No! No, it's fine!" You pleaded, stopping him in his tracks, and hoping he didn't take it as being polite. You were not letting him off of this phone call that easy. "Please, I'm not ready to let you go. Besides, I'm a top performer, what are they gonna do to stop me talking to my hero while he's out on a mission."
"I– alright… Only because that sentence killed me, and I don't want to let you go either," he assured you, and you could hear the essence of bashfulness in his voice from your endearment. You could just imagine the slight pink tinge brushing his cheeks, right above the stubble you loved to play with. "Speaking of, uh, being your hero… There's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I… well, Sam and I were talking after dealing with things in Madripoor, and some of the things we've learned have caused us to reconsider The Shield," Bucky managed, slow to get the words out.
"The Shield? I though Walker had that, what's going on with him?" You hadn't seen anything in the news coverage. Given, you weren't exactly looking for Walker, but you figured all of the search alerts that you thought might lead to anything on Bucky would probably also include the current wielder.
"Yeah, well, he does for now, Sam and I are at least on the same page about wanting it out of his hands. But Sam started to talk about… destroying it instead."
"Oh, Buck…"
"Well, the funny thing is… I told him I would take it, before I let him do that," Bucky cut in, before you could begin your sympathies. This was a very different conversation than the one you had been expecting – what that was, you weren't sure, but it definitely wasn't this. "Obviously, there's still a lot that's up in the air, and there's likely a lot that would need to happen before any of that came into play, but… How would you feel if I were to be…"
"If you were Captain America?" The words felt weird coming out of your mouth. Not so much in a bad way, just… weird. When you thought of Captain America, you thought of Steve Rogers, even despite recent events. Captain America was so much bigger than you could wrap your brain around, at least not while you were also adjusting to what it looked like to have your boyfriend out in the world actually doing the hero work he was known for. "I- I don't know. I'm totally outside of that world, I don't–"
"But, you wouldn't be quite so far outside of it, if I picked up the mantle. And that's not a decision I want to make for you," Bucky pressed gently.
You knew he was right. Bucky had told stories of women throwing themselves at Steve after becoming such an icon, despite the fact that a war was going on around them. And then when Steve had become, essentially, a modern celebrity, you couldn't count the amount of articles you had seen about his love life, or projecting ways to entice the blonde soldier if you stumbled upon him on the streets of New York. Even with Walker, his wife had usually been pictured somewhere in the vicinity, and the tabloids weren't shy about keeping her name out of the press. Could you do that? Would you be able to handle being thrust into that spotlight? You would always stand beside James, but could you keep up if he donned the stars and stripes?
Then you paused to think about Bucky… How he would look, standing strong with the Shield on his arm, and what kind of take he might want for the uniform. You pictured his sharp jaw with a serious face, his strong shoulders doing half of the work to project a feeling of safety. The image in your head was a sight to see…
But the interviews, the press, the shaking of hands Walker was doing now… that didn't fit Bucky. But, it hadn't quite fit Steve either. He had been more elusive of the public eye, focused on doing the job, and getting it done right. Not making time to sit with Vogue, or Good Morning America.
No, Bucky would fight for a backseat approach. Which might not earn him the highest favor… until he got the work done. You could stand beside that hero. That is, if he was the one to choose it.
"Well, I can't make that decision for you either," you settled on, ruminating over the core of all your feelings on the subject. "If that is what you feel is the right choice – for you and that Shield – don't let me stop you. I know how good you are, I know that everything you do is to try and make things right. So I will be right there with you to support your decision, whatever it is." Bucky was silent for a moment. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"It's a tad more diplomatic than I was looking for… but I wasn't expecting anything. I just want your real, honest opinion before I make a decision that could change everything for both of us." There it was again, that gooey feeling in your stomach. He wasn't even doing anything, yet here you were, grinning like an idiot. Thank goodness the smoke-break balcony was empty.
"You're so good to me, you know that?" You gushed, earning a chuckle from the super-solider on the other end.
"I'm just trying to be at least half as good as you are to me," he admitted in a dulcet tone. Your cheeks were starting to hurt with the force of your smile.
"You cheese," you laughed, unable to contain yourself long enough to find a retort.
"You like it," he grinned, as if you were sitting next to each other, bantering like it was just another day at home together, with practically nothing between you.
"I do… and I like you. Whether you're the White Wolf, or Captain America… or just Bucky. Because no matter what the world calls you, you'll be mine," you gushed, stating your final thoughts on the matter at hand, hoping to be at least a little bit helpful in his predicament when he was being so awfully romantic from thousands of miles away. It took him a moment to answer, but you could somehow hear the blush on his cheeks.
"Now who's the cheese?" He teased, and you laughed with him. "Thank you. Whatever happens, I'll always be there… I'll always catch you." Your heart swelled at the endearment the two of you had made your own, but it also ached softly with longing to reach out for him, hold him close to you and savor this tender moment.
"I know you will," you gushed. And, not wanting to risk being caught in tears if one of your co-workers used this balcony for it's intended purpose, you changed the subject. "So you're on your way to a vacation in the Baltics?" Bucky's low rumble of a laugh felt like a balm to ease your heartache as you glanced back inside the office. River must have been watching for you, too, since she acted as if she was going to fall asleep when you made eye contact.
Good. Because you weren't planning on hanging up anytime soon.
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Ch 19 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 18 | Ch. 20
I've just discovered that Ellipsus Snippets are a thing, and I'm a little bit obsessed with it. I also was getting a little antsy sitting on ~4.5k words of a chapter while my Tumblr looked close to dead... so here's a sneak peek at what I'm working on! 🤍
I'm really excited for this chapter!! It's been a hard to find motivation for, partially because it's very heavily tied to the plot, and @deceiver-of-gods had to beat me away from the script of the show 😅
But I am gonna ask for some slack, because part of my lack of motivation is from getting engaged!!! 💍 My real-life Bucky and I are so so happy, but life lately has felt crazy. Wedding planning is no small feat, but I'm a determined DIY Girlie and Oldest Daughter™, so I'm not worried about it all coming together 😂
Between working on MerMay for my Artist account this year wish me luck 🤞 , planning a wedding in another state, and workshopping a book idea I have... I'm hoping I can get this Neighbors chapter out soon! Or at least, until another Snippet might tide you over 😅
Let me know your thoughts!! What do you think is gonna happen? How do you feel about being in the thick of TFATWS? Who else feels like they need a rewatch 🙋♀️
Summary: The morning after you and Bucky confessed your love for each other doesn't go quite as planned.
Ch 18 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 17 | Ch. 19
Warnings: mild language, anxiety/anxious reader, police encounter (positive outcome), LOTS of complicated feelings, John Walker (derogatory), idiots in love… I think I got everything?
AN: Here comes the rest of the cast!! 😂 If you haven't seen Episode 2 of TFATWS in a while, you might want to brush up on those events... My milspo trauma is showing in this one, a lot of these emotions are ones I've had at the outset of deployments and detachments, so I am feeling for the reader in this one. I don't want to say much else cause I'm emotional and I don't wanna spoil it. Thank you as always to my love @deceiver-of-gods for beta reading — back to the good old days 💖I hope you all enojy!!
Gif from @unearthlydust
"God dammit," Bucky cursed under his breath, reaching into the pan to retrieve the last few shards of shell before his scrambled eggs featured a crunch. What he needed to do was turn the TV off, it was only continuing to piss him off, and in turn, cause the eggs in his hands to suffer more violently than necessary. At least most of the egg landed in the pan, he thought to himself, though he wished it hadn't also included the shell that shattered as his vibranium hand balled into a fist.
As he washed his hands, his attention absentmindedly drifted back up to the screen in your living room, the volume low so as not to wake you, but just loud enough for his enhanced hearing to pick up over the sizzle of bacon in the other pan.
"Today on Good Morning America, we're talking all things John Walker, who — if you missed our exclusive this morning — is taking on the role of Captain America,"the host stated excitedly, before the camera switched from her to videos of a blonde haired man dressed in patriotic tactical gear, the shield sitting proudly on his arm.
Unfortunately, Bucky had caught the exclusive mentioned, no thanks to a certain nightmare that he couldn't seem to shake. It had taken a lot for him to leave your bed, wrapped up in your arms after what he could only describe as a perfect night. He did his best to wait, to be there when you finally opened your eyes to enjoy the morning together. But his mind kept wandering, his thoughts drifting places he would rather they wouldn't, and then worrying about waking you up as he grew restless.
His first mission was to distract himself — if he could clear his head, think about literally anything else, maybe he could still slip back under the covers and enjoy a sleepy morning with you. But once his channel flipping brought him to coverage of this… He might as well have jumped in a cold shower.
That would have been the perfect time to change the channel, but any chances of returning to bed were ruined. At first Bucky couldn't tear his eyes from the screen as he suffered through the interview and learned things about Walker's past that he didn't want to hear. But eventually, he decided he needed something to do with his hands, something productive to let go of some of his unsavory feelings. He couldn't be angry when you woke up, that's not how this morning was going to go.
Now there was a plate of pancakes, piled high under a sheet of aluminum to keep them warm like he'd watched you do before, another plate with a few layers of crisp bacon he was adding to, and a pan full of scrambled eggs — recently rescued from his temper.
He might have gotten a bit carried away… But at least the two of you wouldn't need to cook breakfast for a few days, at his rate.
"We talked with John at his Alma Mater, Custer Grove High School in Georgia, and I couldn't get over how humble he is!" The female host said enthusiastically, her blonde bob swishing as she turned to her co-host. "The Government ran tests on his body at MIT, and he scored off the charts in every category; speed, endurance, intelligence… I think we might just be looking at another Steve Rogers!"
"What the fuck?"
Bucky whipped his head around at the sound of your voice, finding you standing right outside your doorway in his discarded shirt, your brow furrowed towards the TV screen. He took what felt like his first full breath all morning, the sight of you momentarily bringing him out of the fog he'd been stuck in.
"G'morning sugar," he hummed, the corners of his lips turning up involuntarily. You did a sort of double take as you pulled yourself from the interview, your features softening as you met his gaze.
"Mornin' love," you blushed. He released an amused breath as he let the new endearment engulf him in warmth. "I take it you didn't sleep well?" you asked, looking pointedly at the buffet behind him.
Bucky shrugged. "I actually slept really well…" he started, but your raised eyebrow urged him to fix his half-truth. "I- well, until I didn't."
"Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked softly, taking a few slow steps closer to him. He shook his head no — you always offered and he rarely took you up on it, not wanting to unload his problems on to you. Instead, he helped close the distance between you, his mismatched hands sliding gently around your middle. You ran your hands soothingly over his chest as you pressed into him. "How about what you've been watching over there?"
"I definitely don't want to talk about that, not today," he huffed, doing his best to reign his frustration back in and enjoy this moment with you, wrapped up in his arms.
"Oh I see… You've got some vision of doing things 'properly' again, don't you?" You jabbed, allowing for a reversal where he raised an eyebrow at you. "S'that why you've made enough food for us to host a brunch?"
"I- I got carried away, alright?" he half pleaded, half laughed. A shit-eating grin was starting to spread across your face, always pleased to have pushed his buttons. "Can we eat? You slept in so late, all this food is gonna get cold," he threw back. An indignant laugh escaped you, and he did his best to hide his own victorious smile.
"Slept in late?? Buck, it's not even–" you started to retort, before he swooped in to cut you off with a kiss. The moment his lips found yours, it was as if his soul relaxed, his shoulders dropping as he cradled you closer. You hummed into him, your hands moving to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself into his muscular body to kiss him again.
Happy to have evaded your questions, he placed one more kiss to your forehead before moving to get you a plate. The eggs had managed to evade the worst of him, and you reached directly for the stack of pancakes before the two of you settled in at the small dining table on the other side of your kitchen. A few bites in, however, he noticed that you were still hesitant.
"Are we really not going to talk about the interview?" you asked, and he couldn't restrain himself from releasing a deep sigh. He didn't have the bandwidth to keep his frustration in check, what with the interview still playing in the background and grinding his nerves. He really should've turned that off…
"I- yeah, it's bullshit. But I don't want it to ruin this morning with you," he managed, his tone a bit more prickly than he would've liked.
"James, trying to bottle up your frustration would be what ruins anything, because you'd be too stuck in your head to enjoy it," you reasoned, exasperated but not without a soft affection. "Kind of the whole point of this thing we're doing is to have each other's backs. To be able to lean on each other, so that I can help you carry some of your burdens, and you don't have to go through them alone."
Bucky wasn't quite ready to address the lump starting to form in his throat at your sentiment, so he responded in the only way he could muster.
"And here I thought it was so we could do things like last night…" You rolled your eyes, but your amused smile didn't go unnoticed.
"Well that is certainly a bonus, but it's not all I'm good for," you winked. Bucky looked back down at his plate to avoid your gaze, needing a moment to compose himself before attempting to continue this conversation. You reached a hand out to rest on his vibranium one. "I know that shield means a lot to you, and carries a lot of memories. We don't have to talk about it if you really don't want to, but I'm always here to listen. It's okay to be upset about what happened."
"I'm not just upset," he heard himself say quietly, still not chancing a look up at you. "When I was… him… the Shield was one of the last things that I could remember. Whatever they were doing to make me forget who I was, it didn't work all that long. I kept coming back… until enough years of it went by, and I stopped remembering things. Becca's name, what my mom looked like, Steve even." Bucky paused for a moment to think on his words, turning his hand over to hold yours.
"Seeing the shield again after so long… it was confusing at first, but some part of me knew that it was a sign of hope. It took a while to remember who Steve was, and even longer to accept what was happening. But through all of it I knew that shield was going to be my salvation. It meant that I was worth saving."
Taking a deep breath, he looked back up at you, and the way your eyes glistened pulled at his heart. You squeezed his hand, and he heard what you couldn't say.
"Seeing Sam put it behind glass made me nervous. Steve protected it, he guarded that legacy with everything he was. When he gave it to Sam, I felt like it was a good choice. Someone responsible to keep protecting that legacy, to make sure nothing happened to it." He had to pause for another moment to keep his composure, but his tone had more bite when he continued. "Clearly that was wrong."
You sniffled and reached up to wipe the corner of your eye, but he noticed that you had your brow furrowed, which didn't match the emotion he had read moments before.
"I'm sorry all that happened, Buck. That's a lot to go through, and I can't imagine how it must have felt to watch him hand off the shield… but I feel like Sam might deserve a little more compassion."
Now it was his turn to furrow his brows.
"For what? It might be harsh, but either he was too naive to think the government wouldn't do this, or he knew and he didn't care," he nearly spat, trying to keep his breathing even. He didn't want to take his anger out on you, or have you think you were the one he was angry at.
"Sure… but you said Sam would be responsible for protecting that legacy, and making sure nothing happened to it. I don't think it's that simple. That's a lot of pressure," you reasoned. "How do you know he would've been able to keep it safe?"
"Sam's a good guy. He helped Steve, and stuck by him when everything with the Sokovia Accords and Zemo started to become more uncertain," he started, not quite sure how else to answer your question.
"And I'm sure you and Steve appreciated that… but didn't he kind of break the law to do that?"
"I- yeah, but we all did. A bunch of us were on the run after that. But we did the right thing," he argued.
"And you knew that, because you were in it. You knew what was going on," you pushed gently.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that you should talk to Sam." Bucky sighed, leaning back in his chair with exasperation. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Sam. "You know that I'm right. You have a lot of feelings tied up in all of this, and I'm sure he has his own, but you won't know until you talk to him. I might not be your therapist, but I think it would do you both some good."
"Alright fine, I'll send him a message. And then I'd like to continue eating breakfast with my girlfriend if that's alright with you?"
"I think we can make that happen," you smiled, turning back to your plate. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and typed out quick message using as few words as possible, hoping to then get back to his morning with you as soon as possible. He definitely wasn't expecting Sam's response.
Just saw the news about John Walker. We should talk.
Yeah I know you're pissed, but I don't really have time for it. We picked up on something going on, and I'm gonna take a closer look. If you wanna talk, I'll be at the Air Base in DC tomorrow. You can either come be useful, or sulk on your own.
It felt weird going into work after the weekend you'd had. So much had changed since Friday, when you and River had been able to sneak out early. From fun hangouts with your friends and helping your super-soldier deal with a predicament of his own design, to intimate moments and heartfelt conversations. Now, Bucky was leaving the country while you had to start your Monday morning as if nothing had happened.
What you had been hoping for when you suggested Bucky reach out to Sam was that they would meet up for coffee, or go get a beer and hash things out. You pictured some of those fake shoulder punches while they tried not to get emotional, or whatever it was that men did. You were not expecting to watch your boyfriend pull a large white case from the depths of his closet, pull out a blue tactical suit, and start packing a bag.
"It's an occupational hazard," he told you, trying to put you at ease. "It'll probably be nothing. Someone else will come take over, and I'll be back home in no time." You braved a smile while he tried to comfort you, but your gut told you that wouldn't be the case.
When he called on your way into work this morning, you didn't know what to expect. But hearing the lack of playfulness in his greeting, and telling you it was more serious than he'd first thought… It had made your stomach drop, but you couldn't say you weren't surprised. And when he told you he was on his way to Germany, you wished you had listened to your impulses, and given him an extra kiss goodbye.
"Oh look, you're alive." River's sarcastic voice nearly made you jump out of your skin, pulling you back from your thoughts as you walked to your desk, where she had been waiting for you.
Clearly she was referring to the fact that you hadn't texted her back all weekend, having no clue what to say. To your group of friends, Bucky was still just James. The thought of having to explain the whirlwind your weekend turned out to be seemed like an impossible task, especially while still trying to figure out how you felt. Sure, you knew Bucky's history, but you hadn't thought to consider what his line of work meant for your future.
With River continuing to pin you with a pointed look that told you to start talking, you had a less than favorable response. Not really wanting to deal with it, you rolled your eyes and scoffed, depositing your purse unceremoniously in your chair. You grabbed your lunch and marched off to the break room to try and escape, but River was close on your heel.
"I-okay, I'm sorry. I was trying to be funny," she lamented, and the sincerity in her voice made your heart pang with regret. "I just- after what happened on Saturday, and then not hearing from you, I wanted to make sure you were okay." Your shoulders dropped as you put your lunch in the fridge, turning to face her with what you hoped was a much gentler expression.
"No, I'm sorry, I … I've had a rough morning," you reasoned, this time walking back to your desk in stride with your friend rather than blowing past her.
"What's going on? Is it James?" she asked hesitantly. The cautionary tone when she said his name made you realize for the first time that she was worried he had done something.
"No! I mean, not- no, James and I are fine," you stumbled, and you could tell you weren't convincing. Fuck, this was going to be a hard conversation.
"Do you wanna talk about what happened? What was up with his 'I had a date' comment?" she started, leaning against your desk as you started to settle in — you knew she wasn't going to leave until she'd gotten the answers she was looking for.
"Oh, that? He just forgot to use his brain. His waitress asked him out at lunch, promised she'd wait late for him, and then disappeared. He came home all freaked out cause he didn't want me to be upset, but didn't want to leave her on her own at night."
"Why didn't he just have someone else talk to her? There had to have been a work chat or something," she reasoned, and you just shrugged. "So did he come looking for you to apologize?"
"Something like that. I had told him to go to the restaurant and apologize to her, he told me to go to the diner anyway -"
"Which you should have done…" River mumbled under her breath.
"Sooo, that's why he went looking for me there," you continued, pretending you hadn't heard her. "When he got home he…" You felt your cheeks flush as you remembered him, soaked to the bone with only one thing on his mind. "He told me he loved me."
Her hands flew to her face, and you could tell she was trying to keep her composure under a certain volume so as not to attract attention.
"Shut UP!!" she whisper yelled, and you laughed at her reactions, your heart swelling as you recalled the evening. "Did you say it back??" You nodded, and River proceeded to fan her hands about in excitement. "I- oh my gosh, okay. Holy shit."
This was good. You could handle this conversation, as long as it distracted her from asking about anything else. How would she know? She wouldn't have any way to know.
"Are you gonna tell everyone at the diner this weekend?? Or are you just gonna let it out naturally??" She gushed, and your stomach flopped – any more stress-induced stomach activity today and you might actually throw up. Your notions of distracting her from this morning were long gone as she picked up on your hesitation.
"I… we hadn't talked about it," you answered lamely.
"Nuh-uh, keep talking, something's up." No no no, you hadn't had enough time to come up with a good lie. River stopped your spiral by reaching out to grab your hands, and look you in the eyes. "Hey, you can talk to me about anything, you know that right? Anything. It doesn't matter what you think I would say, or how weird it might be…"
You looked at River a little closer. Something felt different about that sentiment… it felt oddly specific, though no less genuine. You knew she was ever-perceptive, and that you'd be hard-pressed to try and hide — really hide — anything from her.
Before you could look further, she released a sigh and gave your hands a squeeze. "I was worried about you this weekend, so… I just want to make sure you know that I'm here for you, whatever you need." The events of the morning were wearing thin on your resolve, and your heart was begging for even a little bit of relief. You didn't want to go through this alone.
"He left this morning," you started, and you felt her body shift in anticipation. "He- his friend had something serious going on, out of town. He's not really sure what all is happening, or when he'll be back… and I'm worried about him."
It felt good to be able to have confided your feelings in River, while carefully evading any specific details. That wasn't your secret to tell. River took a second longer to respond, adjusting to your comment that had to have felt like it came out of left-field.
"Oh man… I'm sorry, that's gotta be stressful," she comforted, releasing your hands to pull you into a tight hug. "Do you wanna talk about it? Or do you want to be distracted?"
"A distraction sounds great."
By the time Saturday morning had rolled around, you weren't quite sure what to do with yourself. You hadn't spent a Saturday alone since… well, you couldn't remember how long. One thing had led to another, timelines were fuzzy, and now all you knew was that it felt empty without your super-solider there to throw your morning into pleasant disarray.
You had tried to sleep in, convincing yourself to try and enjoy not being woken up by the early riser who slept on the other side of the bed. Instead, your body woke up at exactly the same time, and you couldn't get your mind to quiet down enough to go back to sleep. You tried the daily Sudoku, a crossword puzzle that proved more challenging than you anticipated, you even read an article about why songs get stuck in your head, nothing. It just left you restless, antsy, and mentally repeating the chorus of a Michael Bublé song.
Next you attempted a hot cup of tea. You left it to steep while putting on your favorite Ella Fitzgerald record, and tried to be patient while wrapping your hands around the mug, holding it close to your chest to feel it's warmth while you bundled up on the couch, waiting for the tea to cool down enough not to scald your tongue. When you caught yourself unconsciously tapping the outside of the mug – not to the beat of the music – you finally settled with the fact that you were not going to be able to have a relaxing morning.
You had heard from Bucky since he'd left, which you kept telling yourself was a good sign. They had run into some trouble, finding themselves up against other super-soldiers. You tried not to dwell too much on that aspect, but the alternative was thinking about how John Walker had shown up to help, which didn't make you feel much better.
Sure, you liked the idea of him and Sam having more hands available. But knowing Bucky, you would bet money that there would be at least some resistance to meeting the new Captain America. Between the threat to his safety, and the challenges for his emotional well being…
Maybe you needed a distraction. Something on TV to watch, comfortably numbing while keeping you engaged. Or even a walk outside; a change of scenery with a fast-paced podcast to keep you from thinking?
A knock at your door was the distraction you got instead, carefully setting your still hot mug of tea down on the coffee table to get up and find out who could possibly be knocking at your door. Why wouldn't they just text you?
Looking through your peep hole to see two police officers answered that question, but gave you a few more in it's place.
"Good morning officers," you started politely as you answered the door to the policewomen, not bothering to hide the confusion written across your face. "What can I do for you?"
"We have you on record as James Barnes's emergency contact?" the brunette woman started, and instantly you remembered the day he had asked you. You hadn't really even known who he was yet, but his therapist was hounding him for an answer, and he'd awkwardly brought it up during one of your first couple hang-outs. It had made a great excuse to exchange phone numbers.
His therapist. It was Saturday…
Fuck.
"I- yes, that's correct," you managed. You could feel your heart start beating faster as you anticipated what was coming next.
"Have you seen him in the past 24 hours?" the other officer asked, this one blonde, and a little shorter than her counterpart.
"No ma'am, I haven't," you managed. It might have been a true statement, but you knew where this was going.
"Have you heard from him at all, or know where he might be?"
"Not recently, no. Why, is something wrong?" You were honestly impressed with how smooth you had delivered that line — and how instinctively in had come out. You could do this… well, now you had to do this. Both women glanced at each other, and you could feel your heart crawling into your throat. Hopefully they couldn't hear it beating through your chest.
"He missed his court-mandated appointment with his therapist this morning," the first officer explained, and you only furrowed your brows. That emotion had to read in your favor, right? "It's like… missing a check-in with a parole officer."
"There is a warrant out for his arrest," the blonde officer added gently, sympathetic in her tone. You felt like you were going to throw up.
"If you know where he might have gone, or what's kept him, we'd greatly appreciate any information you might have. It might even work in his favor." This felt like a trap… Whether that statement was true or not, you'd already committed to an answer, and changing it now might not work in your favor,
"I'm sorry, I don't know where he is. I haven't heard from him in a few days." Somewhere along that sentence you had found your courage and dragged it up with you, decorating your half-truth with a vagueness James would be proud of. "I wish there was more I could do to help." Cherry. On. Top.
"We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us," the brunette smiled, wishing you a good day as they turned to take their leave. You closed your front door and leaned against it, allowing yourself to release a full, albeit shaky breath.
This was worse than you thought.
Hadn't you just talked about Sam and Bucky going on the run? Had he told Sam about when he needed to be back home? Did he even remember, or know what day it was?
You needed to breathe. You'd already lied to the police officers, the warrant was out, a stress spiral wasn't going to do either of you any good.
Holy shit. You lied to police officers. That was a crime. You were a criminal.
Breathing. You were supposed to be focusing on your breathing. Try to stay cool, calm, level-headed…
You repeated this mantra to yourself all day long. Breathe, stay calm, he's not even in the states. Breathe, stay calm... You had tried taking a walk to clear your head, but the sounds of the city weren't enough to drown out your thoughts, and trying to listed to a podcast was too much noise. You ventured to Patty's bookshop, hoping that her chaotically calming energy would pull you from your thoughts; instead, you paced around the same few aisles a few times until she asked if you were okay, and promptly suggested you go home to pour yourself a heavy glass of wine.
"That's what I do, honey! You'll be relaxed in no time," she had exclaimed. You weren't sure you wanted to deal with being anxious and tipsy, but you gave her a smile and took your leave to find some other kind of distraction.
When you had gotten back home, your gut feeling was to call River, especially after her oddly specific words of affirmation earlier this week. But the thought of trying to navigate the strings of white lies you had woven to protect Bucky's identity made figuring out that conversation a headache all on it's own.
When your phone rang, your heart jumped at the possibility of news from Bucky. Finding an unknown number instead, you released a sigh of disappointment.
"Good afternoon," you answered stand-offishly, not in the slightest mood to deal with a potential robo-call, or a call center's gimmicks.
"Hey doll," Bucky's voice responded, and you felt relief was over your whole body before it was replaced with confusion. Why hadn't he called from his own phone?
"Bucky? What's going on? Are you okay?" You couldn't pick just one question, words starting to rush out of you rapid fire.
"It's okay, I'm alright," he was quick to assure you. "I- I'm sorry, I don't have a lot of time." You felt goosebumps appear on your arms as your anxiety-addled brain started filling in the gaps with wild abandon. "I'm with Sam, we've got everything under control. We're in Baltimore, I'm… I'm at the Police Station."
You couldn't stop your leg from bouncing as you sat in the waiting area of the station.
Your head was a little quieter now, especially after the officer at the desk had told you Bucky was already in the process of being released. You figured Sam had beaten you to it, especially since he was sitting just a few seats away from you in the waiting area — equally as impatient — but it was nice to hear the words for yourself.
On one hand, you felt like you should go introduce yourself. One the other, you had no idea what you would even say. You had known James before you knew he was Bucky Barnes, it was a much softer approach — you met the man before you met the legend. Sam's name had been dropped here and there by Bucky, all with a grumble and a roll of his eyes, but seeing him in person was much different… it made all of this feel that much more real, and you weren't quite sure how to process that.
"Sam, I've heard a lot about you," a woman said cordially as she approached the section the two of you were sitting in, and he got up to acknowledge her. "I'm Dr. Raynor, I'm James's therapist."
Recognizing that name, you glanced back up at them, noting that Dr. Raynor was… not what you had expected. You didn't have a clear image in your head, but the rigidity that seemed to be ingrained in her very being was a surprise. She looked like a stern woman, or at least, a woman that didn't tolerate any bullshit. She probably had to be if she landed clients like James Barnes.
"So nice to meet you, thank you for getting him out," Sam expressed as he shook her hand. Huh… The young officer's comment of James being 'popular' made even more sense now, Sam had probably gone up to the desk to get the same answer you did.
"That was not me," she stated adamantly, and before you could control your facial expressions, your brow creased in confusion.
"Christina!" a loud voice called from behind you. You took that to be Dr. Raynor's first name when she turned to take a look. "It's great to see you again!" You did your best to avoid following their gaze; that would be a sure-fire way to tell them you were listening in on their conversation, and you weren't ready to answer the questions that would follow.
"You gotta be kidding me. You know him?" Sam's displeasure gave you a theory… Giving into curiosity, you slowly tilted your head to peer through your peripherals, and you were met with the sight of John Walker himself, standing tall in the middle of a small group of people asking for photos.
This Police Station was quickly starting to fill up with people you were not expecting to see, and you began to doubt whether coming was such a good idea after all. Wanting so badly to see Bucky again, you had latched onto the fact that Baltimore was only an hour from your apartment in DC, and forgotten there were much bigger things going on.
"Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day." Huh, small world… These military types all seemed to run in the same circles, even decades apart.
"I heard you were working with Bucky so I thought I'd step in," John explained as he approached the other two, and you noticed that he carried himself with a certain bravado that spoke of how highly he perceived his own importance. "Bucky's not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer."
"We haven't finished our work… Who authorized this?" Christina asked indignantly — you were right about her not taking any shit. So far, you kinda liked her.
"Umm…" John pointed at himself with both hands, and even though his back was turned to you, you knew there was a shit-eating grin on his face.
A low buzzer went off in the other corner of the room, and the door to the holding cells opened to reveal two officers escorting Bucky out into the lobby where you all were waiting. He was definitely on the defense, his shoulders broad and brows creased together as he took a slow glance around the room, seeing Raynor, John, Sam…
When his eyes met yours you had already stood from your seat, and his disgruntled expression shifted to confusion before landing on concern. While he did a sort of double-take, glancing at the others here for him, you cut the distance between the two of you.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice softer than you had been expecting, and it engulfed you in a warm comfort. You couldn't help from wringing your hands as you kept taking steps closer, and he was quick to take your restless ones into his.
"I- well- I don't know," you whined, your emotions starting to get the better of you. You had to try and ignore the urge to let your hair down; you might be with Bucky, but you were still in mixed company… all of whom were probably watching you wondering what the hell was happening. "I just, I had to make sure you were okay. And I didn't know what to do, Buck. I'm not used to this," you leveled, your boyfriend's shoulders drooping slightly.
"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm okay, I promise," he assured you. He let go of one your hands to reach up and cup your cheek, rubbing his right thumb against your skin soothingly. Then he seemed to remember your audience, dropping his hand instead to rub circles on your arm. Oddly, it made you feel a bit better seeing that neither of you seemed to know what to do in this situation.
"Hi!" You heard John say loudly, and you both turned to look in his direction as he approached, the other two following at a cautious distance. The blonde smiled wide like you were an adoring fan, and you felt Bucky tense back up behind you. "John Walker, Captain America," he flexed, holding his gloved hand out to you to shake your hand. You looked down at it, your brain moving too fast and too slow all at the same time.
"Uh… yeah, I put that together," you answered lamely. And yet, it seemed to take the soldier by surprise. Bucky wrapped one of his hands around your middle and squeezed you gently; you understood the praise he resisted giving you out loud.
"Right," John faltered, retracting his hand before plastering the smile back on his face. "While I'd love to let you have a moment with your… friend? Boyfriend? Partner?" He fished, pausing to let you correct him. When you didn't, he seemed to be done playing public figure. His smile dropped slightly as he turned to Dr. Raynor, clearly done with you and Bucky.
"Look, he's too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you gotta do with him, and then send him off to me," he just about ordered, starting to walk towards the exit as he continued. "Got some unfinished business, him and I. You too, Wilson. I'll be outside!"
"You must be the neighbor I keep hearing about?" Christina piped up once John was out the door. She looked at James, who you could feel shrink into himself a little, before she gave you a knowing smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"It's nice to put a face to the name," you said politely, and you introduced yourself properly this time.
"I'm sorry to have to do this, but I don't exactly want to be here all night. James, condition of your release session, now," she commanded, in a similar tone to someone disciplining a teenager. "You too, Sam."
"That's okay, I'll be out here with-" Sam gestured over to you, but Christina cut him off before he got too far.
"That wasn't a request." Bucky looked back at you like he was stuck, and you waved your hand for him to go ahead.
"I'll be here! I won't leave without you," you comforted, reaching for his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. Clearly not liking this answer, but having no choice, Bucky leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek before turning to follow Dr. Raynor through the station.
So you found your seat once again, unable to stop your leg from bouncing while you waited for Bucky… again.
"Thanks Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better," Sam sassed, signaling the end of this ridiculous session. At least it was the last one. "I'll see you outside." Giving Bucky a slightly more aggressive shoulder pat than necessary, Sam stood up from his chair in the interrogation room turned therapists office, and left them room.
"Thank you, that was… really great," Raynor quipped, clearly not thrilled with the tension she had created. He'd even tried this time, he said some really vulnerable shit. It didn't matter, Bucky would push these feelings aside like he was good at, and get the job done so he could go back home to you and be done with all of this. "I know that look, what's wrong?"
He looked up at Dr. Raynor and tried to shrug it off, but she simply raised a brow at him. God he was ready for this to be over.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Can I go now?" He sassed, wishing he'd been better at keeping his tone in control when it came out of his mouth.
"Not yet, I have a few more questions for you." Bucky started to roll his eyes, but thought better of it. "She's here tonight, your neighbor. I'm assuming that was your one phone call?"
"I- yeah. I just, wanted her to know what was going on," he admitted quietly.
"How is she handling all of this?" she asked, and there was a feeling crawling up his throat, that he needed to protect you. You didn't deserve to be dragged into this, especially not by his shrink.
"What does she have to do with the condition of my release?" He snapped.
"Just answer the question, James," she reprimanded sternly. So no, there wasn't any getting out of this.
"She's… it's not easy, especially when it was so sudden. But she's taking it like a champ," he said softly, thinking about the past week and everything that's happened. "I feel bad not being able to tell her everything, and I can only imagine it's been hard for her to be left in the dark. But when I can call, she does her best not to let it slip how much its affecting her… tonight was harder."
"That's understandable, you were close enough for her to see you again. People have traveled much farther just for a chance to see their loved ones for a few days," she reasoned, and Bucky released a breath, some part of him relieved that your struggles in all of this had been acknowledged. "Can you tell me how some of those calls have gone? What she says, or how you respond?"
"I'm usually calling to put her at ease, to tell her I'm okay. But I also want to hear her voice, and know that she's okay without me," he reasoned, looking down at his lap and thinking of the times hearing your sweet laugh on the other end of the phone had made dealing with Sam a little more bearable. "She always asks how I'm doing. Not just physically, but how I'm really doing. Reminds me to be careful so that…"
"So you can come home?" Raynor finished when Bucky had run out of words.
"Yeah, that," he muttered, the weight of those words sinking in a little deeper. He had to come home to you at the end of all of this. He'd couldn't bear the thought of what you would go through if he didn't.
"That's good," was her only response, before she shut the notebook in front of her. They were done. "James, I don't love this. If I had it my way, we'd have a lot more work to do. However… with my hands tied, I'm at least glad to see you have someone in your corner. Someone you've let in, and who wants to help you."
Dr. Raynor stood up from the metal chair on the other side of the interrogation table, and Bucky didn't waste time following suit.
"Promise me that you'll keep letting her in? Let her help you?" She asked firmly, and he couldn't help the corners of his lips turning up slightly. He would always catch you.
"I promise," he assured her. She reached out her hand, and he didn't hesitate to shake it and hastily make his way out the door before she could change her mind and ask any more questions.
When he walked back out into the lobby, you were on your feet facing away from him, Sam having only just made it out the front door. You let out a frustrated sigh, and he was on high alert again.
"What did he say to you?" Bucky demanded. You spun on your heel to look at him, and he watched you visibly relax.
"Nothing, I- I said something to him," you reasoned. "I just, it seemed like things didn't go great in there… I wanted to remind him how similar you guys are." Bucky could feel a vindictive laugh start to bubble up out of him.
"We are not-"
"Don't tell me I'm wrong, you know I'm not," you reprimanded, and he had to commend you for the conviction in your tone. Bucky felt like he was being tossed between two hard surfaces, both hitting him with tough love. "You're both just so damn stubborn…"
"What'd you say?" he asked, trying to stop your list of similarities before it started. He absentmindedly reached out for you, placing his hand on the small of your back, and you leaned into his touch.
"I told him to take care of you," you admitted softly, and he felt his heart pinch with guilt. "I know you can do this, but… I just, I'm worried about you."
"Sweetheart, I'll be okay. I promise." Still holding you close to him, he reached up to cup your cheek again — he didn't care who was looking now, he was going to hold you while he had the chance. "I've been through worse. And I am going to do everything in my power to make it back to you, okay?"
You just gave him a silent nod, and he knew that you were trying to keep yourself together. You reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, and he pulled you closer without hesitation. He cradled your head in his hand as he heard you let out a shaky breath.
"I love you, James," you whispered by his hear. He squeezed you a little tighter.
"I love you, too, peach," he whispered back, planting a kiss beneath your ear while you held each other just a little longer. Long enough to memorize the way you felt pressed against him before he had to tell you he didn't know what was coming next.
Bucky kissed you so you would feel him there for weeks, before he helped you into your car, warning you to make it home safely. He gave you one last kiss through your open window while you did your best to keep your tears at bay, before he had to face Sam again, who thankfully didn't press the situation any further. He watched your car until you turned out of view, before having to confront Walker and Lemar, and figure out what the next plan of attack was.
The following morning was much easier to handle. Your apartment still felt empty, but something about seeing Bucky again had given you a sense of ease. You had time to say a real goodbye, knowing for certain this time that you wouldn't know where he was going, or when he would be back.
While you weren't as worked up as you had been the day before, there was still a lot of uncertainty. You decided you would spend your Sunday morning attempting that walk again — you figured a quieter mind and a cozy playlist made for better odds.
As you walked out your front door, you noticed an older gentleman with a briefcase standing patiently at Bucky's apartment door, glancing down at his watch. When he heard you close your door behind you, he turned and gave you a polite smile.
"Mornin ma'am," he said kindly, making to turn his attention back to Bucky's door.
"Good morning… He uh, he's not usually in around this time," you lied — you were getting better at this, but you weren't sure that it was a good thing. "Can I help you with something?"
"Oh! Well uh, actually you might," he stammered, turning to face you fully. You noticed he wore his business slacks with a set of suspenders, and an older pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. "I have you in my record as Mr. Barnes's emergency contact, is that correct?" Oh god, not another one.
"Y-yes, that would be me," you admitted, trying not to sound so resigned. "And you are?"
"I'm an associate at Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg & Holliway, you may have heard of us referred to as GLK&H?" He paused for a moment to let you respond, but you just raised a brow in confusion. He didn't seem put off by it one bit. "We're a law firm based in New York that specializes in cases related to superhumans — we've recently opened a branch here in DC! Now that Mr. Barnes's treatment with Dr. Raynor has concluded, I'd like to discuss the matters of Mr. Roger's will with him. Do you know when he'll be back?"
Oh shit… this was definitely not a good time.
"Uh… He's actually out of town, at the moment, I'm not sure when he'll be back," you stammered.
"Not to worry! We've held onto it for this long, a few more weeks shouldn't be an issue," he laughed kindly. He patted his hand around his pockets, setting down his briefcase as he took a moment to fish around for something, eventually retrieving a business card from the breast pocket of his tweed blazer, and extending it to you with a smile. "If you wouldn't mind giving him my information, I'd love to chat when he's back in town." With a small wave, he made his way back down to flights of stairs — this place really needed an elevator.
Turning back towards your door, you walked back into your apartment, and set the business card on your front table. That walk was going to have to wait for another day.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow@writerlyhabits-library+ turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: Bucky is determined to make everything perfect for your date tonight, so that he can tell you exactly how he feels. So long as he can make it back from Izzy's Sushi with Yori in one piece…
Ch 17 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 16 | Ch. 18
Warnings: mild language, some angst, Bucky's anxiety, hurt + comfort, fluff, idiots in love, smut soft like a pillow… Leet me know if I missed anything!
AN: Hey look, the chapter that is almost solely responsible for most of the plot in this fic, she finally exists 😂 I swear @deceiverofgodss and I came up with no less than five different concepts for this chapter, each of which inspired at least one of the preceeding chapters, and even some chapters that never made it to the final cut I'll always think of you camping chapter. But here we are, two hiatus' later, I finally have something to show you guys. Something that really, actually, truly, ties all of this into the plot of tfatws 😂
To those of you who know Neighbors, thank you for sticking around 💛 And to those of you who are new to the series, sorry in advance – I suck at updating in a timely manner. I hope you enjoy!! ❤️
gif from @steve-kemp
“Look at this. Nobody made it past ninety this week,” Yori lamented, turning the newspaper towards Bucky as he fit a roll of sushi into his mouth.
“So young… Such a shame,” the super soldier managed through his mouthful, glancing over the names in the obituary column. He hadn’t anticipated the events of his day including an impromptu lunch with Mr. Nakajima, and yet here he was, stealthily keeping an eye on his watch to make sure this detour didn’t derail the rest of his plans.
Bucky had big plans for the night. He had an image of a candlelit dinner in his mind, something nice he could make at home. He would pick up a bouquet at the florist shop that he had been frequenting for the past few months. The owner, April, always knew how to translate what he wanted to say into the right arrangement to have you fawning over them for days. He would make everything perfect for your date night before the diner so that he could tell you he loved you.
It made him a little nervous, he hadn’t told a girl he loved her since… he couldn’t actually remember when. He didn’t know that he had ever actually meant it before. He thought he had, but what Bucky felt for you now made all those other moments feel like puppy love and schoolyard crushes. Despite his nerves, he was confident tonight would go well. He had to be. If he didn’t tell you tonight, he feared the words might just come tumbling out of his mouth one day and he’d have no power to control it. It was better to do it tonight while he still had some sort of hold on his emotions.
Bucky’s phone buzzed in his lap, and he looked down to see your response to his message come in, bringing a small smile to his face.
“Saw Yori on the way home, he was getting himself into trouble. Had to corral him to Izzy’s Sushi, I’ll be home later than expected.”
“That’s okay, have fun! Be nice to yourself. I’ll see you at home for date night <3”
There had already been a few hiccups for what was supposed to be a perfect day. His morning in bed with you had been nothing less than bliss. But the abrupt reminder of his weekly appointment with Dr. Raynor was less than ideal, much like the actual session itself. In all fairness, Bucky hadn’t walked into the room with the best attitude. He wanted to be returning the favor you had paid him, not sitting in his therapist’s office rehashing the details of his nightmares. The one he didn’t want to talk about, and tried to convince his shrink he hadn’t had. But he’d always been a terrible liar, which made Raynor hone in on it even more, and she wouldn’t. Let. It. Go.
By the time he was released from her office, Bucky was already putting all the pieces of his plan together to distract him from his souring mood. He had his phone out to figure out what he was going to make you for this romantic dinner – something different, but something that wouldn’t push his cooking abilities too far out of his comfort zone – and pick up what he needed to make it. Then he’d stop by April’s flower shop to pick up another of her masterful creations, before storing everything in his kitchen and figuring out how to keep you distracted while he set everything up in your apartment.
That is, until he stopped Yori from getting into a fistfight over garbage bags, and corralled him into Izzy’s Sushi Bar. Not exactly part of his plan, but he could make it work.
“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a bit adventurous?” a voice asked them, bringing Bucky out of his thoughts. Of the many times he’d dragged Mr. Nakajima here, Leah had been their waitress a handful of times. She was friendly, and definitely liked to chat. She always had a question ready for them, and seemed to enjoy hearing Yori’s stories – or at least humoring him.
As Yori gave her a quick answer, Leah’s gaze kept drifting over to Bucky, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the super-soldier. It was new, and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant. Did he have something on his face? Was she waiting for him to answer? Or had his sleeve slipped… Did she finally recognize who he was?
Before he could figure it out, the couple sitting at the bar beside them grabbed her attention, giving Bucky a chance to pop another sushi roll into his mouth before she came back... And almost as soon as Leah’s attention had shifted, Yori leaned over to the man beside him.
“You should ask her out…” he suggested in about as much of a taunting, sing-song voice as he could manage. Bucky whipped his gaze back down to the old man, his brows furrowed deeply as he shook his head, unable to say through his mouthful that he already had you.
As Leah left the other couple, card in hand to make their final transaction, Bucky felt like he was watching in slow motion as Yori grabbed her attention, the impression of an important question written all over his features.
“He would like to take you out on a date.” Leah’s eyebrows rose on her forehead, clearly not having expected such a blunt statement. Much less from Yori… Bucky did his best to swallow the half-chewed roll in his mouth. “Maybe to bingo, or a night of pinochle?”
“I’m really sorry about him,” Bucky stressed, finally able to cut off the ramblings of the self-appointed matchmaker before he could make anything worse. He tried to continue with ‘I already have a girl of my own…’ but Leah cut him off before he could get a word in.
“Why are you sorry? I’m game,” She said smoothly, and Bucky felt his stomach drop as he realized that she had been looking at him with interest. She had been trying to flirt with him this entire time, and he was so consumed with you that he’d been completely blind to it.
Not one of his proudest moments.
“I picked up a later shift tonight, meet me here at closing?” Leah offered with a wink before she made to turn away and continue working. Shit.
“I- No, I’m not- Wait…” Bucky scrambled, but it was no use. Leah hadn’t even waited for an answer before she was out of earshot. How long had she been trying to flirt with him? Had he accidentally led her on? Why was nobody listening to him today?
“I can’t believe you did that, what the hell was that for?” He shot at the culprit of the problem, who was happily snacking on his sushi with a sly grin on his face, clearly pleased with his results.
“She’s cute! You shouldn’t be lonely.”
“Lone- what are you talking about? I’m taking my girlfriend out dancing tonight,” Bucky almost pleaded.
“Ohhhh girlfriend?? Is she special? Is it that neighbor?” Yori asked with just as much enthusiasm as a middle school girl asking about her friend’s crush.
“That would be her. She’s… I haven't felt this way about someone since 1943. Feels like,” Bucky admitted, quickly recovering from a comment a little too close to the truth for comfort.
“Then she’s very lucky,” Yori said softly, and the sincerity of his words hit Bucky like a punch to the gut. He didn’t have time to try and unpack the old man’s kindness, or growing fondness for him. It was tearing at his heart in a way he didn’t know how to cope with, so instead he moved on.
“And I’m not, thanks to Mr. Matchmaker. Help me flag her down so I can get out of this mess.” As Bucky made to glance in the back of the restaurant for Leah, he could see Yori’s smug smile out of the corner of his eye. But before he could comment on it, another server deposited a plate on the bar in front of the couple beside them, and Yori’s expression dropped. “What’s wrong?”
“My son…” Yori started to answer in Japanese, and Bucky was still unsure if the old man knew – or even cared – that his companion could understand what he was saying. “He loves the red bean mochi.”
Fuck.
He wasn’t getting out of this any time soon.
…
Bucky felt like his heart was in his throat as he approached your door. How were you going to respond? What would he even say? What if you never wanted to see him again?
That last question made him feel like he was going to throw up, so he tried to focus on anything else, like how he would try to calm you down if this turned into a screaming match. Or how he would deflect things being thrown at him. One of those was easier to prepare for than the other, and for a rare moment, he wished dodging potential flying objects wasn’t the easier scenario for him.
He wrapped his knuckles on your door as he held a bouquet tightly in his other hand, your amused response for him to come in following soon after.
“You’re earlier than I expected! And I thought I was the ridiculous one for starting to get ready so soon,” you giggled from your room as he walked into your familiar living room, trying to ignore feeling like the walls were going to cave in around him. He looked down at his watch to see that he was, in fact, an hour early.
“I uh… well, I wanted to talk to you,” he choked out, managing to only sound halfway suspicious. Hopefully.
When you rounded the doorway of your bedroom, you cracked an amused grin as you gave him a once over. “Now I’m starting to feel a little overdressed,” you laughed.
To be perfectly fair, he was very under dressed. Still wearing the dark shirt you threw at him this morning, he’d donned a dark pair of jeans and his black leather jacket. With the addition of his boots, this was what he wore every day. Except for when you went to the diner.
But you were the picture of elegance.
Bucky knew you weren’t done getting ready, but it didn’t matter. You were wearing the navy blue dress he’d bought for you at the boutique, the same day you’d given him the first edition of The Hobbit. The skirt floated around you as if it had magic weaved into the fabric, making you seem even more graceful than he already knew you to be. The waist was beyond flattering, and he had to blink away the mental images flashing across his eyelids when his gaze lingered on your hips. The neckline was the perfect middle ground; it accentuated your natural curves, yet stayed modest, leaving more up to the imagination than anything. Or in his case, up to memory.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed wistfully. But when Bucky finally met your eyes, he noticed that you wore a confused – and slightly concerned – expression.
“What’s wrong?” You questioned, and the fact that you had honed in on his weird energy so quickly threw him off guard.
“Wh- How’d you know something was wrong?”
“You’ve got that look on your face, like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I didn’t realize I had a look,” he muttered, recounting all the occasions where he had felt that way, and how quickly you had been able to notice.
“C’mere, come sit with me,” you reached for his free hand, and he let you take it. “Let’s take some of that weight off your shoulders.” As Bucky watched you float over to the couch, pulling him in tow, he just about melted. And if it hadn’t been for the bombshell he still had to drop, your ability to read him and know just what he needed would’ve relieved all the tensions in his body.
Currently, he was stuck waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Talk to me, Buck. What’s going on?” You asked gently, and he tried his best to spit something out. Anything. But his tongue currently felt like it was too big for his mouth, and his brain was moving too fast. “Do you need a place to start? What happened with Dr. Raynor this morning?”
He grunts. “She was convinced I had a nightmare.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, but that's not the point.” You rolled your eyes at him, but held your comment to allow him to continue. “Raynor was … it was irritating, but it was fine. The problem was at lunch with Yori.” He stopped to consider his next words, and you gave a light chuckle before you offered your assistance.
“What’d he say this time?” If it weren't for the lump in his throat, he may have laughed at your shared exasperation. You were used to helping him relieve the weight of his visits with Yori, and thus, the old man’s antics.
“He asked our waitress out.”
“Oh no,” you giggled, and your infectious amusement gave him the extra boost to say the last few words he needed to get his point across.
“On my behalf.”
“Ahhhh I see, so I’m a secret you don’t talk about,” you teased, and for a moment, all Bucky could do was sit and stare at you. He didn’t feel like he was processing your words correctly… The scene in his head led to you being pissed at him, not making jokes of this situation as you sat next to him on the couch.
“I do, of course I do,” he quickly recovered, wanting to stay in your good favor for as long as it would last. “He just doesn’t fucking listen.”
“That must’ve been awkward to be asked out by an old man, and then hear just kidding, I have a girlfriend,” you teased, lowering your voice to make a mock-baritone impersonation of him and what he should have said.
His stomach flipped.
“That’s what I tried to say,” he admitted quietly. To his dismay, your witty comebacks stopped. “He waited until I stuffed my face, they just kept hashing out the details and I couldn’t get a word in. And then she was just gone.”
“She was gone? Like, she left her number and vanished?”
“She didn’t leave her number, that’s my problem.” Something dawned across your features, and Bucky was doing everything he could not to start panicking. “I have no way to tell her what’s actually going on. I stayed long after Yuri went home, trying to flag her down. I even went to April’s to get flowers for you and went back, but she still wasn’t there.”
“Do you mean these flowers?” You asked, gesturing to the bundle of purple hyacinths he was still clutching in his vibranium hand. As he looked back down to them, he was genuinely surprised to see that he hadn’t crushed them in his nerves.
“April said it’s the flower to say I’m sorry,” he pleaded as he extended them to you. You still looked like you were contemplating something as you took them from his hand, your gentle touch lingering over the vibranium.
“What are you apologizing for?” Your tone was steady and warm as you answered him, and he was starting to wonder how far your patience with him would go. You didn’t seem upset in the slightest… though he wasn’t confident enough in his male judgment to think he was in the clear just yet.
“That there’s another girl expecting to go on a date with me tonight…?” He tried hesitantly. The corners of your lips started to turn upwards.
“Okay, but… what else happened?” What… what else? Bucky could only look at you in confusion. “I mean, are you going to go on the date? Are you interested in her?” Your last statement wasn’t as steady as the others, shaking slightly on the word interested, and he leapt to remedy it.
“No, of course I’m not interested in her.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I… I don’t know what to do,” he answered lamely. You lifted an eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate. “It’s- I don’t feel good leaving her to wait by herself at the end of a late shift. But I’m not going on a date with another woman. I won’t stand you up like that, especially not tonight. I didn’t want you to have to deal with this, this was not in any version of my plans for tonight, it was supposed to be perfect… But I don’t know what the right thing to do is, and I need your help.”
For a few beats, you both were silent. Bucky was trying to swallow his heart back down his throat, watching intently as your face changed from earnest confusion, to something akin to… adoration?
“I love that you care so much, James.” Your warm, gentle tone washed over him, feeling very similar to your comforting embrace. “And I love that you came to talk to me about this so that we could handle it together. Makes me feel like we’re a team.”
“We are a team.” It slipped out of his mouth so easily, he didn’t even have to think about it to know it was true. But he was lucky certain words hadn’t come out along with it… no, that was for later tonight. Well, if he could ever get there.
“You should go.”
“What?” This conversation was giving him whiplash. It was almost worse than having actual whiplash, which he’d had more of his fair share of experience with.
“Go!” You exclaimed enthusiastically. You were serious? “You could even take the flowers with you, she’ll appreciate it.” He looked down at the hyacinths in his hands for a moment to try and gather himself.
“And then what? I’m not going to pretend I’m genuinely on a date with another woman, that’s not happening.” What Bucky thought was a romantic notion made you look at him with amusement.
“Just tell her the truth,” you sighed, as if he was ridiculous for not coming up with it himself. “Either she’ll understand and still want to hang out, or she’ll get upset and send you right back to me.”
“I’d love for her to understand and send me right back to you,” he grumbled, making you giggle lightly.
“Mhmm, I guess you’ll have to see,” you shrugged, your warm smile helping to ease some of the tension that had built up leading to this conversation.
“Is... is that it?” You raised your brows in question. “You’re not upset?” You looked away for a second to ponder your answer, but released a breath and began to speak before he could start to worry again.
“I mean, I’m bummed about date night… but we can always pick another night. Maybe it’ll give you more time to flesh out this perfect plan of yours.” Bucky was surprised to find himself releasing a soft chuckle at your slight jab at him. When he looked back up at you, he felt his throat catch when he caught your eyes.
Fuck, don’t say it Barnes. This is not the right time.
“I’ll make up for it, I promise,” he offered, trying to force his voice not to waver. “I… I’ll always catch you.” Your smile grew bashful, and you were scrunching your lips in the way you did when you tried to hide how much he got to you. But before he could catch your face flush, you looked away from him to collect yourself.
“Speaking of catching…” you started, changing the subject, “you know River is going to kill us, right?”
“Why?”
“For not showing up to the diner. Again.” Bucky laughed as he imagined a caffeine-filled River marching through the door to tell the two of you off, her dark eyes full of fire. I could taker her, he thought to say, but instead he settled for a noncommittal shrug. “She literally made us promise last night! And I don’t know that she makes her threats lightly,” you reminded him, smiling at his lack of concern.
“You should go,” he heard himself say. There was no reason why you had to stay home, he could bear that consequence alone. “She can’t be upset if one of us goes, that’s half of her request.”
“Why on earth would I go to the diner without you?” You retorted. Bucky dropped his voice low to make his argument.
“Because you’re wearing a very pretty dress that you deserve to go dancing in?” He said a little more sweetly, unable to hold back his compliment.
“And dance with who exactly? You’re not gonna be throwing me around,” you threw back at him, and he grimaced before he could catch himself.
“And that’s what I get for acting like a meatball, and ruining our plans tonight.” You tipped your head back in a full-belly laugh, one hand clutching your middle while the other landed on his shoulder to keep your balance. “Please go. Have fun, hang out with everyone.”
“I’ll think about it,” you relented, rolling your eyes as you continued laughing at him. There was something in your voice that led him not to believe you… but considering how much better this conversation just went for him, and how much he liked your hands on his again, he figured he’d let this one slide.
…
Despite Bucky’s attempts to persuade you into joining your friends for your regular night out, you had decided against going to the diner… again.
Who was he kidding, of course you weren’t going to go without him. What fun would it be to get dressed up all nice and not have Bucky throw you around the dance floor? Any inkling that a night at the diner could be just as fun dancing with someone else had left your mind ever since the Single’s Dance on Valentine’s Day.
As he waited for it to get closer to Leah’s late shift, you tried to convince yourself to at least consider his suggestion by continuing to get ready. You leisurely applied your makeup for the night, carefully choosing an eye shadow palette that would compliment the beautiful dress, and enjoying your super soldier watching you with the equivalent of heart eyes through the mirror’s reflection. You toyed with different ideas to style your hair – careful to select ones with minimal bobby-pins – and getting Bucky’s opinion on all the inspiration pictures you showed him.
You figured some part of him had to know you were stalling, but he played along excellently. And around six, he dragged his feet to tell you goodbye, promising to get it all over with as soon as he could manage. But as soon as the door closed behind him, you stopped pretending to fool yourself.
You couldn’t go to the diner without your partner. No matter what he said, there was a part of you that felt like it’d be wrong. Or at the very least, you would feel incomplete.
Instead, you paraded around your apartment enjoying the weightlessness of the skirts around you, delicately falling to the couch cushion, and turning on your comfort show. This choice, however, meant you had to field River’s impending texts about an hour later when you still hadn’t shown your face.
I’m disappointed that you’re running late, but you still have time for a delayed redemption…
How far out can I cash in that delayed redemption??
Girl you better not. I will come find you and drag you here
Pause your Netflix & Chill now before I see something I don’t want to
XD Calm yourself, James isn’t here
… Where the hell else would he be?
River’s last text bubble had taken a bit longer to come through than the others, and you winced as you realized your mistake. You hadn’t come up with a good reason for all this that would keep your friend off your back. You had to play this very delicately in order to try and gain some kind of forgiveness without letting Bucky’s situation slip. He was already beating himself up about it so much, there was no need to expose him to your friends teasing... not yet.
Something came up and he couldn’t reschedule. We figured you’d be upset since you just reprimanded us for skipping
First of all, I didn’t reprimand, I simply pointed out an injustice. I require a companion to judge other people’s dancing. Charlie is too nice to do it with me
What comes up that keeps him busy past 7:00 pm?? The man’s a retired veteran, leave him be
You allowed yourself a giggle at this last message before you panicked for an answer. If only she knew just how true that statement was… Bucky, a very retired war hero, was overdue for a fucking break. However, you were still trying to decide whether trouble sought him out, or if it was sometimes the other way around.
I think something with an old army friend, I’m not sure
Tell him I want the full story next week or I’m legally allowed to punch him
XD I’ll be sure to give him the message
So does that mean you’re not coming?
If you give a woman a dance partner who throws her around like a rag doll, she won’t go dancing unless he comes with
Did you just “give a mouse a cookie” me??
I resent you for that atrocity
Bad analogy or not, my sentiment still stands
Boo, you whore
River’s last message came with the matching GIF, which did make you laugh. With nothing more to say on the matter – at least, nothing that wasn’t self-incriminating – and your friend mostly placated, you sent a laughing reaction to her message and closed your phone. You settled back into the couch to continue watching your show, the pattering of rain on your window a soothing sound in the background.
Only for it to start exploding with messages twenty minutes later.
You fumbled for the remote to pause your show after a handful of rapid vibrations, and opened it to see a barrage of messages in the “Jukebox Saturday Night” group chat – which included your entire diner crew other than Bucky, who wasn't quite hip to what a group chat was at the time, and settled to get the information through you.
River: YOU FUCKING LIAR
Jay: You’ve got an explanation for James’ vague “I had a date” comment, right??
Izzy: In what world is JAMES asking US where you are???
Jay: He wouldn’t tell us he had a date, and then ask why you weren’t here, he’s smarter than that
Charlie: He rushed inside and started asking about you, he seems really concerned
Jay: Please tell me he’s smarter than that, and that’s not what’s going on
River: He seemed to think you’d be here having a great time with us, and I can’t say I blame him
Charlie: He left in a rush before we could talk to him, he said he needed to see you…
River: I knew I should have dragged you out with us earlier, would’ve solved this mystery
Izzy: I thought y’all were psychically linked, wth is happening
Charlie: Is everything okay with you guys?
As the last message came across your screen you read it in Charlie’s distinct motherly tone, and you tried your best to figure out how to respond. You needed them to shut up so that you could focus and figure out what they were talking about.
Bucky had gone to the diner looking for you? He hadn’t even been gone that long, what was he doing at the diner? What had happened on the date? Why did he need to see you?
You tried to put your rising panic to the side and type out a response, to show the group chat a sign of life. The constant pinging and vibrating mixed with the storm growing outside was not making it easier to concentrate. But no sooner had you tried to fumble your way through a response did a lightning bolt flash across the sky. Your living room, which had been dark for proper movie watching ambiance, was filled with the purple-white light of the bolt and your front door swung open as the crashing thunder followed outside.
Bucky stood in your doorway, his breathing heavy as if he had just run all the way here from the diner. Which, now that you thought about it, might have been exactly what he'd done. You rose from the couch, tossing your phone to the side as you took in his appearance, looking for answers. The rain had clearly been against him as his black shirt was made even darker with the water it had soaked up, his now damp hair dripping onto his face, and his strong features bearing a look of distress.
Before you could ask what was going on, another flash of lightning illuminated the room, and it dawned on you that he’d been running to you during a lightning storm while his entire left arm was made of vibranium. Was it conductive? What was he thinking?!
“What the hell are you doing running around in a thunderstorm?” You scolded, your voice dripping with concern as you made your way over to him and pushed the soaked coat off of his shoulders. He moved his body in response to your touch to help shed the piece of clothing, his eyes never leaving your roaming ones.
“I had to see you, it couldn’t wait,” he almost pleaded. You shook your head as you tossed the coat to the side, another wave of thunder rolling in the background.
“Just in case you forgot, you’re lugging around a shit ton of vibranium, you could have died,” you argued, your voice quivering on the last word. You tried to distract yourself from your own words by further examining him, finding his leather gloves already off and shoved in the pocket of his discarded jacket. You ran a hand over the arm in question, feeling the cool temperature of the metal even underneath the sleeve of his dark Henley.
“I’ve been through worse,” Bucky smirked, and you shot him a hard glare. Picking up on the fact that you were not in the mood for jokes, he dropped the grin.
“What happened? Why are our friends asking me what you were doing at the diner? What were you doing at the diner?” You questioned, and he at least had the decency to look abashed.
“I didn’t mean to make a big deal of it… I thought you were going to be there with everyone,” he reasoned. “You didn’t go dancing.”
“No, of course not,” you answered, and his brows furrowed in confusion. “I couldn’t go dancing, not without you.” At these words, something flickered in his eyes, and not from the continuing storm outside.
“I shouldn’t have left you tonight.”
“Buck, I told you, it’s not-”
“Please, sugar, hear me out,” he begged, and you gave a slight nod for him to continue. “I shouldn’t have gone. I could’ve figured something out, asked the other servers to let her know, left a note, anything. I should not have been there tonight.” Bucky finished his statement a little softer than he started it, and it reminded you about how little you still knew of what he got up to.
“What happened?”
“I went to Izzy's Sushi and explained everything. Leah did appreciate the flowers… And she said she understood, but I could tell she was still flirting — whether or not she meant to, I'm not sure,” he explained, and you started to visualize the scene.
If you were being fair, when a man like Bucky Barnes still came to a date saying he was taken, you couldn’t blame the woman for presenting herself as a viable option if he happened to change his mind. But your stomach flipped when you remembered you were the woman she was happy to replace.
“It didn’t take long before I wanted to be anywhere else. I was fielding awkward questions about my past, and then she started going on about Yori and his son… I tried to hide how uncomfortable I was, which gave her no reason to stop talking about what she thought was a common interest… I just – I don't know, I started to think about something April told me when I picked up the flowers from her shop."
His blue eyes shone bright as another lightning bolt flashed beyond your open windows, and you felt your cheeks growing warmer under his intense gaze as you both waited for the rumbling thunder to pass.
"Do you remember the bouquet I got you on Valentine's Day?"
"Of course I do," you answered hesitantly, not expecting the callback. "Red tulips and white lilies… You said you 'didn't speak flower' but that they reminded you of me," you recounted, unable to help the corners of your mouth lifting slightly as you remembered the way his sweet gesture made you feel. It felt so long ago now, having only just started to explore your feelings for each other.
"Exactly – and I still don't speak flower. So when I asked April for help today to pick something that might help soften the blow of what I had to tell you, she tried to fix that. Told me I needed a crash course before I fucked up anything else," he finished with a smile, and you couldn't help but release a small, amused breath.
Bucky took half a step closer to you so your bodies were now touching, his super soldier body heat ever present under the cold, damp clothing clinging to him. The crinoline under your dress spilled out around his legs as its shape accommodated for him.
"Daffodils, for good news and new beginnings. Bluebells, for kindness and gratitude. Hyacinths, for apologies. I was drawn to the white Lilies, because they represent commitment. And the red Tulips… because they declare love."
Bucky paused for a moment, taking a steadying breath. You felt like your brain was working in slow motion, not fully processing what he was telling you. Or at least, too shocked to know what to do.
"And as I thought about what she said, I realized that I had already told you. I thought I needed some perfectly tailored evening to show you how I feel, but at this point, I may as well have been shouting it from the rooftops," he continued, and he paused for a moment to take another breath. "All I needed to do tonight was make sure you knew."
"James… are you-"
"I love you," he interjected, clearly just as eager to get it off his chest as you were to get the answer. "I have for a while, whether I knew it or not. And I needed to get back to you, I had to tell you tonight because if I waited any longer I swear it would've come flying out of my mouth with the worst possible timing," he finished with a nervous laugh that seemed to power over his attempt to keep it at bay.
The room was bathed in the purple-white light again, followed by a low rumble of thunder, but you weren't even sure you could hear it. You couldn't focus on anything else past the sweet, wonderful, sopping wet man standing before you with his heart in his hands.
James Buchanan Barnes loved you.
"I know I come with a lot," he started to say, and you realized – as your brain began to pick up speed again – that he was trying to fill the silence following his confession. "I'm not easy to be with, but I promise-"
"Don't say that," you breathed, pulling yourself out of your initial shock. "You are not hard to be with. Loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done."
There was a beat of silence as you watched your words hit him, and he took the smallest intake of breath as he processed it. You continued before he could try to fill this silence as well.
"Buck, I love you and who I am when I'm with you. I love our little adventures, I love watching you learn new things about the modern world. I love the nights when we cook together, and when we stay in to watch a movie. I love when we go dancing, and take a step back in time together. I love how much of a nerd you are, how sweet you are…" You took a second to gather your thoughts after having admitted your feelings without filter. From here you wanted to make sure your words told him exactly what he needed to hear. "I love merging our lives together, and starting something new and wonderful and ours."
You watched as his shoulders dropped in relief, releasing the breath he had been holding as he let your words soak into him. He reached out for you, and you responded immediately. His mis-matched hands wrapped around your waist and he buried his face into the crook of your neck, holding you close as you lifted your arms over his shoulders. You cradled the back of his head to keep him close to you, running a soothing hand down his back.
Enveloped in the euphoric haze of it all, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh when Bucky started to plant small, sweet kisses against your neck. He trailed his lips up the column of your neck, to the spot beneath your ear, before making his way to the curve of your jaw.
When his barrage of affection made it to your cheeks, your giggles took over you, feeling his lips curl up in a smile as he continued to cover you in affection. He leaned back to look at you, sharing the radiant smile that was beginning to burn your cheeks in your joy. You slid your hands from around his neck to cradle his face and pull him closer to you, instinctively resting your foreheads together, the tips of your noses brushing against each other.
You tilted your chin up to connect your lips to his for a sweet kiss, one which he matched with the full force of his emotions. Bucky pulled you still closer to him, his wet clothes cool against your dress as his lips danced across yours.
Sweetness became passionate, and the two of you quickly began to get restless in your attentions. You gripped his impressive biceps as you searched for a tether to reality, and his hands explored the curve of your ass, still covered by the weightless layers of your skirt. You released a small moan in response to his touch, and were momentarily dissapointed when he broke away from you. Your eyes fluttered open to see him lower just enough to no longer reach your lips as he navigated to hold you beneath your skirts. Bucky's strong hands then hoisted you into the air, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as you clung to him.
You swooped back in to continue kissing him, one hand playing with his still damp hair while the other clung to his shoulders, only vaguely aware of the fact that you had started moving. When Bucky removed one hand from underneath you to feel his way through your dark apartment, you reluctantly detached yourself from his lips, instead planting them across his neck while he navigated to your bedroom.
The next thing you knew, you were being gently lowered onto your bed, Bucky crawling on top of you to continue pressing some of his weight into you in a way that caused a familiar heat to start licking at your core. But instead of leaning back in to keep kissing you, he propped himself up on his elbows, simply gazing down at you with a smile toying at his lips.
"What is it?" You asked, half-laughing. His smile only grew, shining above you.
"I just… I don't think I have the words to describe it," he admitted softly. "I'm so incredibly happy right now, to be here doing this with you. To be loved by the woman who must have come out of my dreams," he breathed, and you felt your breath hitch.
"Well that's certainly eloquent for having no words," you teased as you faltered for a response, laughing with him as both of your nerves were escaping you. "I feel the same way about you." Bucky leaned down for a single kiss, quick and sweet before he leaned back just far enough to keep your noses touching.
"What do you say we finally do this thing properly?" He asked in a hushed tone, a shiver running up your spine, despite the fact that you giggled once again, causing him to cock an eyebrow.
"What is it with you and doing things properly? I like our way much better," you admitted, reaching up to toy with the chain of his dog tags.
"And what is our way?" Bucky asked softly, choosing not to look at what your hands were doing, even though it clearly still had an effect on him. You thought for a moment, not quite sure how to describe what you meant. While you contemplated, you pulled ever so slightly on his dog tags and Bucky followed, leaning in closer to you – clearly ready to resume kissing you once you finished speaking. There was your answer…
"Just being two idiots in love, doing what feels right," you finished, rather impressed with your assessment and your ability to keep an even, sultry tone. Bucky let out a low rumble of amusement as he pressed ever closer to you.
"Hmm, I like the sound of that," he hummed, then wasting no time reconnecting his lips to yours once more. The fire of his passion had returned, they way his lips danced with yours feeding the flame building at your center.
The storm outside could have doubled in it's fervor, or faded into the night, neither of you paid it any mind. There were more pressing matters at hand, like freeing Bucky from his rain-soaked clothes, wriggling the damp cotton of his t-shirt up his washboard abs and over his head. Or the feeling of his lips dancing at the neckline of your dress while his nimble hands reached behind you for the zipper. Or, even more satisfying, the high you got at the feeling of his bare skin returning to yours – having stepped away to allow for you both to rid yourselves of all the layers of clothes that stood between you.
Bucky's super-soldier body began to heat up again very quickly, soon feeling his hands – one cool, and one comfortingly warm – caress your curves as if he was admiring a sculptor's artistry. You smoothed your own hands across his back, pressing him closer to you as you felt the muscles there ripple with his ministrations — though your soft touches soon transformed. Soon you were raking your nails across his back while you attempted to find purchase, overcome with the feeling of ecstasy his hands brought you as he expertly massaged your bundle of nerves.
Before you could come back down from your high, he had inserted his thick fingers into your heat, making you cry out in a way you didn't know you were capable of. Bucky's lips soon found yours again, unable to decide whether he wanted to attach himself to any patch of skin he could reach, or to sing your praises as you fell apart beneath him again.
When you had returned back to earth, reeled back in by Bucky's gentle attentions, you wasted no time reaching back out for him. You kissed him with an urgency that overtook you, feeling like you needed him more than the air you were breathing. You were desperate to communicate your desire for him, your hands trailing down his toned chest, until you wrapped your fingers around him, causing Bucky to moan into you.
You only managed a few slow, gentle pumps before he broke – Bucky released a low, gruff. whine as he reached for your hand, removing it from around himself, and settling between your legs. You could feel his weight pressed against your core, teasing you in the most delicious way.
"You're killing me, sugar," he breathed, and an involuntary shiver ran up your spine. "I won't last long if you do that, and I want to feel you around me." Bucky caught your gaze, his pupils blown wide as he waiting for your permission.
"Please, James," you whimpered, and he shot forward to steal a kiss before you felt him line up with your core, and ever so slowly push inside.
When he was finally buried to the hilt, the sounds that emanated from both of you created a beautiful harmony, floating above you as he waited for you to adjust to his impressive size. You whined at the slow drag of him as Bucky pulled back, and rolled your eyes back when his hips met yours again.
"Fuck, you feel good," you groaned, and your words seemed to encourage him to pick up the pace. Your hands searched for purchase, gripping his biceps as he continued to fuck you.
Bucky's razor-sharp thrusts right into your sweet spot at a calculated, measured rhythm made it difficult to form coherent thoughts. Though you didn't need to, Bucky tuned into your needs with each flutter of your walls around him, and each squeeze of your grip on his arms. He kissed each patch of skin he could reach without breaking his pattern, scattering sweet, gentle praises between his affections.
When you began to cry out in time with his hips, the sounds of your pleasure began to cloud his focus, a strained whine escaping from him as he began to falter. You were so fucking close, he could feel it. He paused for half a second to reposition himself on the bed, and you made a sound of protest.
"Don't stop, James, I need you." You words went straight through him, and he could feel their affect on him like a shot of adrenaline. Resting on one elbow right above you, using his other hand to guide your legs around his waist, he resumed his motion with a newfound fervor.
You rocked your hips in time to match his thrusts, and he could tell you were already coming undone. Your hands were restless, and the sounds of your pleasure stoking the flames of his desire. And only when you began to clench around him, releasing a cry of rapture, did he give in to his own euphoric release.
Bucky collapsed on top of you, having only enough willpower to keep his weight from crushing you. You would feel him twitching inside your heat as his body came down from it's high, and you did your best to keep from clenching around him in response – though your pleasure-addled brain could find no down-side to working up your super-soldier for round two… Instead, you smoothed one hand over the muscles of his back, the other carding through his soft hair as your rapidly beating hearts pounded against each other, your heavy breaths bringing them back down to a regular heart rate.
The rest of the night was draped in a shroud of pure bliss. Bucky – with his enhanced recovery – came back to himself first, and was monumental in keeping your weak knees from collapsing beneath you as you both prepared for bed. As you tucked into each other's embrace beneath the covers of your bed, neither of you could help your radiant smiles, and infectious giggles as you relished in whispered 'I love you's until you both drifted into peaceful sleep.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: Your second day in the covert reveals both new and familiar faces; hospitality and hostility.
Chapter 3 of the Shereshoy series | Masterlist | Ch. 2 | Ch. 4
Warnings: lots of Mando’a, mild language, soft Din, awkward Din, protective Din [he’s got a wide range, okay?], original Mandalorian characters… maybe a little bit of angst? It’s mostly worldbuilding, so I think that’s about it.
AN: A word from the author – “I’m in grad school, I take forever to write things.Soon I will start grad school again, which means I’ll write this instead of my dissertation. I’m quite fond of the Mando Legends Lore, if you haven’t noticed. I literally got Kad Ha’rangir & Arasuum tattooed on me.”
This is the third part of a sister fic for my one-shot (Courting) a friend of mine wrote based on this request, and I’m so happy she’s letting me share it with you guys! She is also sharing it on AO3, so be sure to send her your love and kudos there as well! We hope you enjoy 💛
Translations, in order of appearance:
Aliit ori’shya tal'din: Family is more than blood
Rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?: Are you gonna tell her to kiss your ouchies?
Cuyi ulyc, vod.: Be careful, sister.
Aliit: family
Ad(e): child/children
Kar’ta beskar: the central "diamond" of Mandalorian armor; lit. heart armor
Mirjahaal: peace of mind, "healing", general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement
Beroya: bounty hunter
Kurshi: tree
Sen’tra: jackpack
Buir(e): Parent/Parents
Akaanati'kar'oya: The War of Life and Death (Mandalorian myth), creation story
Verd'goten: a special trial for one to become warrior; lit. birth of warrior
So'haale: births
Urman'gedete: prayers
Eparave: feasts
Cyarir evaar'la: Courting
Alii'aliit: meeting of the clans, the closest thing mandalorians have to government or parliament; lit. "clan of clans"
Tsad: group (of people), alliance
Bes'ede: Mythosaur
Kandush : inevitable doom
Time moves differently underground.
With Odona, the hours passed quickly. As a team, you could disassemble and reconstruct nearly any ship in their small fleet, save for a few parts— which no one had yet found and delivered. The days were faster when the guardsman opted to join you in his free time, his first visit and subsequent dialogue with Odona still memorable.
To what do I owe the displeasure; Oh Mighty Protector of the Covert and Savior of Foundlings?
The pleasure of my company is for your friend, ‘Dona.
Why? Going to terrorize her again, Ik’? Ven’rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?
Cuyi ulyc, vod.
You had sensed there was a joke hidden within their jibes, one you were unable to decipher in their foreign tongue, but neither took the time to explain. Whilst Ikarus lacked use for the labor that required fine motor control, his presence disrupted the monotony of the many tedious and repetitive tasks you and Odona spent much of your time doing— their frequent banter kept you entertained throughout the day.
The time you had spent in the medbay was shorter— the most common injuries coming from the older adolescents early on in their training, whose resilience and constitution had yet to strengthen— as well as wrist and ankle sprains from poor fighting forms, the occasional laceration from knife safety training; and at worst, injuries from the teens and young adults earned from a vigorous sparring session.
But with Din, the mornings and evenings together never felt long enough. The hours were reminiscent of your time with him and the Child in the Crest, the warmth of your aliit protected by familiar cold walls; the stone of the cavern both analogous yet antithetic to the durasteel of your former home.
One forged of hands, and the other of time— one of the fires of a furnace, the other the fires of a planet’s mantle. Your time together before was that of contrivance, engineered— with agendas to follow and assignments to complete— your interactions affable yet somewhat artificial, a present barrier precluding your companionship from evolving into something more… More natural, more innate, more intimate. Here, your time together had been more candid, endearing— Din no longer shied away from any probing questions or physical closeness, which allowed that previous barrier to melt and slowly flow away like that of bedrock to magma, reshaping and remolding your times of leisure together to hours of unified repose.
The hours turned to days, the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turn to this moment, where seemingly no time passes at all— blanketed in the familiar darkness of your room. The unlit and chilled space, at first an unacquainted oddity, now a comfortable companion to spend the sleeping and waking hours in. The ritual remains the same— awaken with the Child, have the morning trade-off with Din, make the caf, and begin the tasks for the day— like clock work, a well-oiled droid.
This morning is almost no different, and yet, you hesitate to leave your bed, your conversation with Din the previous morning still fresh in your mind—
Din had sat aside the table, his body resting against the wall— unarmored, arms crossed, head tilted to the side, the same position as every morning. Once you handed him the Child and sat, caf in hand, he finally spoke.
“I’d like you to join me tomorrow,” he stated.
The lack of pleasantries from him was unsurprising, though a teasing ‘Good morning to you, Din’ was a tempting response. Instead, you greeted him with a grin and an unobjectionable reply—
“Alright, what are we doing?”
He hummed, pleased with your immediate acceptance.
“The adults alternate supervising the ade. Tomorrow, it’ll be our turn.”
You gestured toward the Child in his arms, in a playful retort. “Don’t we supervise this ad every day?”
The Child cooed in his arms, his ears perked tentatively at his mention. Din sighed, with a smile in voice.
“We do. It’s tradition for all of the adults to care for the ade… All have wisdom to share.”
Skeptical, you thought: ‘What would I possibly teach them?’
You observed the Child resting so comfortably on Din’s chest— his tiny hand gripped tightly into Din’s clothes, right where his armor’s kar’ta beskar normally sat. It was a stark contrast compared to the Child’s behavior upon your first meeting. With any loud noises and sudden movements, he would shrink inwards in his cradle— as if he could make himself any smaller. Medical scanners made him grimace, unfamiliar places and people made his ears droop— seeing others upset made him wary. And yet, he was endlessly curious. Despite his initial unease with the two new adults in his life, the Child was quick to trust you both— and with his trust, his personality came through… his affection, his laughter, his love.
From there, Din learned how to tend to someone outside of himself— what it meant to have someone that relied on him, and more colossally, someone that wanted Din, as he was. The Armorer branded him as the Child’s father, and the delighted squeal from the little one sealed the bond that Din had been trying to hide for so long. Just as the Child learned to trust Din with his welfare, so too did Din learn to trust the Child with his own mirjahaal.
Perhaps it wasn’t the lessons they taught, but rather the connection they made, and the wisdom they sought.
With this, the true question then inverted from the skeptic ‘what would I teach them’, to the sanguine ‘what will I learn?’...
“...When do we meet them?”
—
To the ade, the former beroya is nothing more than a tall kurshi fit to climb.
Somehow, Din appears endlessly patient and playful with all six of the young children. They utilize their limitless spurts of energy to continuously attack Din as a squad, bringing him to the ground— he’ll exclaim a faux wail, and collapse to his knees— and the collective giggles of the ade begin the cycle again.
Whenever a child grows tired of their battle, they come to you— wanting to be tossed into the air, or onto the nearest surface. Supposedly being gently thrown around aids in their brain development, and ‘it’s good practice for their first sen’tra flight’, Din tells you. The logic is questionable at best, but hearing their joyous squeals makes the ever-growing muscle fatigue worthwhile. Even the child of the Djarin clan is as equally amused, his own little spirit mightily lifted by the experience of being with other kids again.
During your time on Sorgan, the Child was happy to interact with the other children— but mostly, he watched them, rather than play. Perhaps he was still too shy or too wary to fully engage with so many people, but surrounded by these Foundlings now, he looks at home; like he belongs. Amidst this cohort, he’s made a new friend, Mara, the youngest of the lot. Her long and dark hair reminds you— and perhaps the Child— of Winta, Omera’s daughter. The two spent the most time together on Sorgan, and despite the little one’s inability to say, he misses her.
Mara and the Child sit away from the squad play-fighting Din, in front of the single wall of volcanic tuff— embellished with crimps and pockets, graven by many hands. You watch them, as they examine the wall, looking up and down, side to side. Your eyes travel upward to the small cavate, almost eight feet from the floor. You watch as Mara looks to the Child and nods, and begins her ascent up— using her fingers and toes to grip tightly onto the various crevices in the wall— and the Child begins to follow.
You step forward, almost instinctively, wanting to call out to them to stop, wanting to reach out to the children to prevent a fall—
Then, from nowhere, Din appears at your side, extending his hand to stop you. “Don’t,” he says softly, “Let them try.”
You look at him puzzled, and he continues. “If you distract them now, they might fall…” he pauses, and turns his head to watch them, “...but if you allow them to focus, they can succeed. Watch…”
The pair silently step closer, closing the distance between themselves and the wall, watching the two ade slowly make their way up to the cavate. Mara climbs inside first, and lays on her belly, reaching out to the Child to help him trek the final span of the wall. Once inside, the Child turns around, to face the entire room below him. He squeals a little clamor of excitement, proud of his triumph, before looking down to his buire.
“Good job, kid,” Din says. “Come on down, it’s time to go.”
The Child looks at you both doe-eyed, his ears drooping, as he peers over the ledge. He looks back to Mara, and back down over the ledge, contemplating his next move.
You lean slightly towards Din, speaking in a hushed tone. “I don’t think he knows how to get back down.”
“He can do it,” Din says confidently.
You challenge him, “He looks scared.”
Din insists, “Then he’ll do it scared.”
He steps forward once more, his body almost pressed against the wall, reaching one hand up. “Come on kid, climb down.”
The child’s ears droop even lower, letting out a quiet whimper, a little anxious look on his face. He looks back up to Mara, who gives him an encouraging “You can do it,” before he finally begins his descent towards you and Din.
Carefully, his little clawed feet grip into the same pockets he used to climb up, and his hands hold onto the ledge. He looks down at his buire with a slightly quivering lip, then back up to his hands. Slowly, he presses on, his movements deliberate and cautious, gravity tugging at his little limbs with relentless persuasion, clammy clawed-hands threatening to slip free from the cold stone. His disgruntled babbling fading with each tentative step, footfalls growing more steady with every downward stride.
His little foot finally reached something soft— the hand of his buir, waiting for his arrival. With an excited squeal, he looks to Din, holding out his clawed fingers for Din to grasp. Din takes the Child into his arms.
“Good job… I knew you could do it.” Din whispers to him.
With his ad in hand, Din looks back to the cavate, where Mara sits silently. “You too, Mara, come down,” he says.
Mara, unlike the little one, is less graceful, only climbing down two feet of wall before leaping off. You instinctively reach your arms out to catch her, but are a few seconds too late, as she lands confidently on her feet, smiling up at you. She giggles, asking the Child “Wasn’t that fun!” and the little one cooing affectionately with a bright smile.
“They need to rest.” Din says, before leading Mara and the Child back with the other ade. You follow him in toe, and aid him while he attempts to settle the children in preparation for them to sleep.
The chamber is bathed in the soft, warm light of the cressets along the walls. The ade sit and lay in a circle on the floor, looking up at the two adults expectedly, waiting for you both to join them. Din gently places the Child in Mara’s lap, seating himself amongst them.
The ade demanded a story before they would agree to their midday nap, and with only one long sigh, Din relented. As you sit beside him, the tale of Akaanati'kar'oya begins.
—
In ages past, when cosmic realms were naught,
Two gods emerged, each with a purpose sought.
Kad Ha'rangir, embodiment of change,
A dance of growth, His essence did arrange.
Arasuum, the god of slow decay,
In stillness thrived, where life would fade away.
Eternal foes, in battle they engaged,
Ideals clashed, the cosmic script was paged.
Kad Ha'rangir, with eyes of vibrant light,
Envisioned galaxies in endless flight.
His very step, a ripple through the void,
Transforming all, where life and change enjoyed.
Arasuum, with eyes as deep as night,
Desired a realm where stasis held its might.
Decay His touch, a silent, withering breath,
A universe in stillness, touched by death.
In ceaseless clash, their cosmic struggle roared,
A dance of gods, where destinies were stored.
Stoic truths emerged from this grand design,
A tale of action, life's breath so divine.
"For action is the breath that life bestows,
A vital force, as mighty river flows.
Inaction, slow demise, a creeping shade,
A silent death in stillness' dark cascade."
Through galaxies and time, the story spread,
Of Kad Ha'rangir, where change was bred.
Arasuum's touch, a cautionary tale,
A realm in stillness, where all things frail.
So heed the moral, in verses spun,
That action is life, beneath the sun.
For inaction's grasp, a silent breath,
A slow demise, an encroaching death.
—
The ade rest together in a haphazard heap of limbs on various bedcovers and furs draped across the floor. Exhausted from their Beroya Battles and abseil adventures, they finally sleep, leaving the two adults to quietly watch over them together. In the chamber’s silent embrace, the air hangs heavy and chilled— a symphony of stillness envelops the room, broken by the muted shuffle of shifting bodies, and the hushed breaths of the ade. The only audible rhythm is that of the pulsating cadence of your own heartbeat and the rush of blood moving inside your head.
Your eyes scan over the ade, finding a sense of calmness watching their steady breaths, in… out.
In… out.
In… out.
Your gaze once again falls onto the Child, cuddled against Mara, also breathing steadily. In the gentle cradle of his friend’s arms, he looks peaceful. Had he ever slept this soundly on the Crest?... Who held him every night before us? Who will take care of him after us?
In the softest whisper, to not disturb the ade, you lean closer to Din, telling him the obvious— “He’s happy here.”
“...Yes,” Din replies, just as quietly.
“Was this your experience, too? After the Mandalorians saved you?”
“No.”
His visor is trained on the little one’s sleeping face—the same face of a child who was once trapped in the suffocating darkness of a sealed cradle—a cage, a cage whose opening only revealed another prison, in the form of two bounty hunters hovering over him like… a B2 Battle Droid, with a blaster pointed in a child’s face. A child rescued from death at the last possible moment by a shiny warden, offering an adiaphorous detainment.
“It was… a time of war. I was trained to fight in it. I hope… that they never have to.” Din says, his gaze scanning over the ade once more.
“I thought all Mandalorians were warriors.”
He, too, believed the same notion for many years. Training from the day he was rescued to the day he became an adult, after his verd'goten, life became a perpetual streak of jobs. Commission, retrieval, payment. Commission, retrieval, payment… Until a strange, golden, aureate armorsmith joined his tribe, bringing tales of the “Great Forge of Mandalore,” and the songs of the artificers that echoed through the speos as they worked. He remembers the first time he kneeled in front of her small, austere forge, in a dark room beneath a busy market above, listening as she spoke of the ethos, the rites, the latria, the true way of the Mandalore.
“No. Everyone is trained to survive. But… we used to live, too.”
“...Until Mandalore was taken.”
“Yes.”
So'haale, urman'gedete, eparave, cyarir evaar'la, alii'aliit… A cultus he could only dream of, but never truly have. Spoken knowledge fades into whispers, slipping through his fingers like sand as the voices of the ancestors grow ever fainter. Each decampment a dissolution of tsad res publica, each step forward a battle against oblivion.
“I’m sorry.” You lean over, resting your head on his pauldron. “...Maybe there’ll come a time when we’ll live in the light, on a planet that welcomes us.”
Din knows that within every Mandalorian is a patchwork of unfamiliar faces and ever-changing landscapes, their solace and safety as elusive as a bes'ede itself—and yet they endlessly repugn the kandush they have faced time and time again, guided by the conviction that within the uncertainty of the cosmos lay the promise of a sanctuary forged from the resilience of their spirit.
He tilts his head, resting it atop yours. “There will.”
Ali'nare vencuyanir yaim. This is the Way.
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Summary: On Saturday morning, you start to remember all the details of the night before. Sharing yours and Bucky’s relationship with your friends, having entirely too much to drink, and being taken care of by your super-soldier. But now that you were sober, it's time to repay the favor…
Ch 16 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 15 | Ch. 17
Warnings: language, pet names, SMUT [oral - m receiving], a half-baked ending, idk I think that's about it
AN: Hello, I’m back from the dead, and I have nothing to show for myself but a midnight release of some half-beta’d smut 😂 But I TOLD you guys I’d come back!! Y’know, just… two jobs and a deployed boyfriend later 😬 I’m really excited to have this chapter out, I know it’s been a long time coming, but I’m hoping to get back into some kind of groove. I’ve been daydreaming about putting a printed version of Neighbors on my bookshelf, but that requires me to actually finish writing it, lol. And we’re finally tip-toeing the line of seeing events of the show in the fic, so that’ll be exciting 👀 I missed you guys, I’m glad to be back, and I hope you enjoy 💖
EDIT 12-28-23: I did change the ending a little bit, but not my much... I just updated some of the dialogue. It was really throwing off my groove trying to start the next chapter 😂
The soft rays of the morning light filtered in through your blinds, and you woke up gently to the golden light blanketed across your bedroom. There were no alarms to snooze, no obligations to be met, just a beautifully lazy Saturday morning for you to share with the man sleeping beside you.
It was moments like these that had made these slow mornings one of your favorite things. Rarely did you get to see Bucky’s face relaxed in blissful sleep, normally one to wake up before you and help start your day. But the weekends brought a pleasant lack of worries and expectations for his super-soldier brain to focus on. You loved getting to admire his sharp features in the golden light, mentally charting every detail of his gentle expression before sleep escaped him and his hyper-active mind brought back that crease between his brows.
And as much as you enjoyed seeing Bucky in such an easy state of being, watching him escape the demons that tormented his waking existence, it never failed to make you smile when you felt him begin to stir in the mornings.
Before his face would give anything away, you would feel his mismatched hands roam your body, or reach out to find you if they weren’t already. This morning they were wrapped around your waist, and your cheeks began to burn with the force of your smile as you felt Bucky’s right hand slide down the small of your back until he reached your ass, giving it a playful squeeze. And only when you gave a soft laugh in amusement did his expression crack, the corners of his lips tilting up in a smile before he cracked his eyes open to look at you.
“Good morning,” you cooed, your voice soft as you basked in the adoring attention of his blue-eyed gaze.
“G’mornin doll,” he slurred, using his vibranium arm to cage you in and press you against the planes of his half-naked body.
“How’d you sleep?” You offered, hoping that it was a favorable answer. The shrug of his shoulders told you otherwise.
“Had that dream again, where I’m… him. But I’m fine,” he said with a shrug, which you knew by now meant that he’d had a nightmare that was affecting him more than he could shake, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. At least for now. “How did you sleep, baby?”
“Pretty good. I think all those drinks I had last night might’ve helped because I didn’t move,” you lamented, and you felt Bucky’s body shake with his quiet laughter.
“Oh, those drinks certainly did a number on you,” he grinned, clearly replaying the memories of the night before across his eyelids, and finding amusement in the whole situation all over again. When he looked back to find your brow raised in question, he offered another question. “How much do you remember from last night?”
You scoffed, but couldn’t erase the smile from your cheeks, even in your irritated facade. “How much do I-I remember the night just fine, thank you!” You defended incredulously, going over the details in your own mind before you spat them out in the wrong order and gave him any more ammunition.
At Charlie and Jay’s dinner party, the two of you kicked off the evening by announcing — prompted by your friends’ schemes — that the two of you were dating. You were official, going steady, cuffed… the list of phrases and jabs went on forever, and most of them were used as the dinner party continued with no lack of questions and pleas for details.
Some of the conversations, and the number of drinks you had, are all mixed together, the journey home being much the same. At least until you got into the building. You could vaguely remember falling back into Bucky’s arms on the stairs, and without any connecting context, having your shoes in your hand while you were carried bridal style up to your apartment.
But you did remember the rest of the night. You could remember almost every detail of getting Bucky back into your apartment, and damn near climbing him like a tree. Your intoxication had made you turn feral in an embarrassingly short amount of time, desperate for more of the intimate moments you’d shared before you left for the dinner party.
“Ask me again when you’re sober,” his voice rang through your head, his words from the night before causing a spark to light inside you. You’d wanted him bad last night, and he had wanted you just as much.
“Oh, you remember? Is that why I can see the gears turning in your head?” Bucky’s deep voice said from beneath you, the vibration of his baritone bringing you back from your daydreams, back to the reality where your very handsome super-soldier was half-naked beneath you and still had his hand resting on your ass.
“Mhmm… I remember something about picking up where we left off,” you lilted. You shifted so that you could straddle his hips and get a better look at him, the movement bringing your hips over the already impressive size of him through your thin layers of pajamas and panties.
You did your best to keep yourself from making any depraved sounds. An involuntary roll of your hips caused Bucky’s eyes to close as he took a sharp inhale, and you felt a shiver surge through you watching how easily you could make him crumble.
“I believe I was told to ask you again when I was sober…” you whispered, watching his blue eyes focus back on you and darken as he tried to hide his grin. “What do you say, Sarge?”
With another slight roll of your hips, he adjusted his grip on your ass to squeeze it again, stilling your movement as he twitched beneath you. You tried to keep your whimper at bay, but it did you no good when his vibranium hand found the back of your neck to pull you back down to him, leaning up ever so slightly to crush his lips against yours, eliciting a desperate sound from somewhere you had no control over.
Bucky kissed you senseless, and you lost yourself in the sensual way his lips molded to yours while his tongue licked at your lips, teasing entrance without giving you the satisfaction. Between his gruff moans and the way your bodies continued to move together, it didn’t take long for a familiar puddle of arousal to appear between your legs, no doubt helped by the growing weight beneath his sweatpants.
His hands began to roam across your body, caressing anywhere he could reach, and causing a shiver to run up your spine and break the kiss. Bucky smiled up at you through half-lidded eyes, laughing under his breath as your expression started to mirror his.
“You alright, sweets?” he asked you softly, his hands rubbing a soothing pattern on your back. You nodded enthusiastically, your head swimming with too many inappropriate thoughts to be able to form words, and taking your opportunity to latch onto the stubble-covered skin just beneath his jaw. He hummed in appreciation, and you took your cue to continue traveling downwards, trailing kisses behind his ear and down the column of his neck.
Bucky’s pleasure-laced laughter rumbled through his chest as you continued your barrage down his collarbones, shifting your hips lower as your trailed kisses down his ridiculously large pecs, and making your way all the way across his washboard abs before he reached a hand down to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. The sweet movement gave you a good pause to stop your affections and look up at him, unable to stop the sly grin that appeared on your face as you settled yourself between his legs, your arms braced against his hips.
He let out a shaky breath as he smiled at you. “S’this okay?” you asked sweetly, running your hands across his stomach as you waited for his answer. He released another amused breath.
“I- It’s more than okay,” he grinned, combing his vibranium fingers through your hair, clearly contemplating his words. “But you don’t have to. I don’t want you to think-”
“I want to, Buck,” you assured soothingly, cutting him off before he had a chance to get in his head. “I want to make you feel good. You took such good care of me last night, now it’s my turn.”
“That’s part of my job,” he pleaded, not trying to dissuade you, but too stubborn to let this point slide. “I’ll always take care of you, and I don’t ever expect something in return.”
“Okay, sure. But that’s my job too, y’know,” you argued, satisfied when you could see the gears in his head struggling to find a counter-point. “Let me take care of you, baby… Let me taste you,” you finished with a whisper, enjoying the way his eyelids fluttered at the thought.
Bucky took a breath as if he was steadying himself, watching you adoringly as he licked his lips. “Show me what you want, sweets.”
You had to bite your lip to contain your smile, almost immediately jumping to action. You grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling both the pants and his boxers down over his hips, your mouth nearly watering when his cock sprung free.
You were half convinced you would be just as starstruck by it no matter how many times you saw his dick, admiring his bulging tip hiding beneath the foreskin. You risked another glance up at Bucky, having to contain the excited giggles bubbling inside you before you wrapped your hand around him, giving a few slow pumps to unsheath the angry red tip already starting to leak precum.
At this point, there was nothing in your head other than what you needed to do to get him in your mouth as soon as possible. You darted your tongue out to lick up his length, making a point to swirl your tongue a little more at that special spot just beneath his tip. His sharp inhale spurred you on, wrapping your lips around his head as you continued to swirl your tongue, and your eyes almost rolled back when his thighs involuntary squeezed around you.
“Ohhhh shit… I forgot how good this feels,” he laughed breathlessly. You were immediately distracted by this new information, and unashamedly bolstered by the fact that you’d barely had him in your mouth before he was singing your praises.
“How long has it been? Since you had someone to take care of you like this?”
“Decades,” he answered firmly, and it sent another shiver through you. It was almost embarrassing how much it turned you on that you would be the first one to give him a blowjob in so long.
“Mmm, then I guess we’ll just have to make up for it,” you winked, but before Bucky could question your motives you dove right back in, sliding your lips down enough of his length to comfortably fit. He muttered another curse under his breath and you heard his head hit the pillow, rocked with pleasure.
Now that you’d had a chance to let him get over the initial shock, you set a steady pace. Sucking up his length, and wrapping your tongue around his tip before repeating the process, taking more and more of him each time you bobbed your head.
“You feel too damn good, babygirl,” he hissed, and you could hear his restless hands shifting around the sheets beneath the two of you as you continued to worship his length. When Bucky’s gentle fingers began to comb through your hair, your eyes rolled back a little as he pushed some of the pieces out of your way.
With your clear signs of enthusiasm, he took his cue to continue, both of his mismatched hands collecting all of your hair before his right hand grabbed a fistful, holding just enough tension to make you squirm. You couldn’t hold back your own moans of pleasure from the feeling of his hand gripping your hair, sending the vibrations down his cock with your lips wrapped around him, sucking up and down his length as he let out a throaty groan.
“S’that feel good, sweets? D’you like when I hold you like that?” Bucky asked, fighting his way through the words. You could only hum in agreement from around him, never slowing your ministrations, and taking far too much pleasure in the way it made him break. As you hummed around him, his cock twitched in your mouth, and you glanced up to watch through your eyelids as his head hit the pillow.
With nothing else to lose – and everything to gain – you took one last long drag up the length of him, hollowing your cheeks before going down just that much further to take him to the very back of your throat. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he let out a slew of curses.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep that up…” he muttered. When you nodded, moaning in a sort of plea, he could only respond with incoherent sounds of his own pleasure.
Taking neither of you by surprise, it only took a few more bobs of your head before his grip on your hair tightened, and you kept a comfortable length of him inside your mouth as he hurtled to his climax. You basked in the sounds of desperate pleasure Bucky made as he as he shot warm ropes of cum down your throat.
After he’d finished, and you could feel his length start twitching on your tongue, you made your final attempts to collect his spend. With one last gentle suck, you released his sensitive cock, shooting a sweet smile back up at him – an action that earned you a tired laugh as he turned away from you.
“Fuck, sweets you can’t jus… Take it easy on me, will ya? You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled, and you could hear the soft grin he was wearing. You giggled as you gingerly made your way back up his body, snuggling back into his side.
You could tell Bucky’s super-soldier stamina was already starting to catch back up to him, looking much less tired as he turned his head to look up at you, donning a bright smile when you brought a hand up to play with the scruff on his cheek.
“Did’ya have a good time, Sarge?” you asked him softly, feeling another wave of amusement rumble through his body in response.
“I haven’t felt that good in… I don’t even remember how long,” he answered happily, his voice deep and relaxed. It nearly sent a shiver down your spine on its own.
“Glad to be of service,” you shot back flirtatiously, earning you a sly grin. You hummed a laugh, Bucky following suit as he continued to look at you with those baby-blue eyes. And when your laughter faded, his expression didn’ falter. The hint of adoration quickly overpowered anything else, and you felt your cheeks start to heat up as he gazed up at you as if you’d given him the world. You noticed a small quiver of his brows, but before you could ask him what was going on inside his head, he opened his mouth.
“We’ve done this a little backward, haven’t we?” He asked earnestly, accentuating his words with the smallest scrunch of his nose as if it were obvious what he was talking about.
“How do you mean?” As you watched him contemplate his answer, you couldn’t help yourself from teasing him a little. “If you’re insinuating I should’ve cum first, we can always just do it again.” The deep belly laugh that rumbled through the man beneath you made your heart skip a beat. God, you loved that sound.
“No no, I mean… I mean with us. I never took you out for a proper date, did I?” Bucky’s voice was soft and sincere, which only made his question more confusing.
“Uh, of course you have. What do you think we do every Saturday?”
“That’s different. I just thought it’d be fun to take you dancing, but I never asked you out on a first date the proper way.” And there was the daily reminder of just how old Bucky was, talking about the “proper” steps to dating. The fact that it was almost immediately after getting sucked off was just comical.
“Okay… what about Valentine’s Day? You asked me out then, we had a fun night!” You bargained, taking care to remember the very romantic picnic that had been the cause of your first kiss.
“I was told specifically that that didn’t count,” he teased, and you only rolled your eyes at him. Damn him and his perfect, super-soldier memory… Before you could get another jab in, he cut you off, his voice soft and sincere again. “Let me take you out tonight, sweets. We’ll make it different, something special.” He was persistent this morning… He was clearly up to something, but what that was you had no idea.
“Yeah? And how’re you gonna make it different from all the other Saturday nights at the diner?”
“Damn, that’s tonight, isn’t it? That’s…” Bucky trailed off, and you watched the gears slowly turning in his head. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Saturday. It’s Saturday, what time is it?”
Shit.
You nearly launched yourself off of him to reach for your phone on the nightstand. Turning back to him, his expression told you he already knew the answer. “Buck, you’ve got to go.”
If he hadn’t recovered from your intimate escapades of the morning, he definitely had now. Both you and Bucky shot up from the bed in an attempt to get him out the door to make it to his appointment with Dr. Raynor on time. He was already stepping into his dark jeans by the time you’d gotten to the dresser, pulling out the first of his t-shirts you could see and throwing it in his direction.
Bucky caught the black shirt effortlessly and started to put it on as he turned back to you. “Alright, well… diner night or not, I still want to make tonight special,” he pleaded, and you stopped for a moment to watch his muscles flex as he slipped the shirt over his head.
“Yeah, okay great. Right now I’m worried about you missing court-mandated therapy. This conversation will be much less romantic when there’s an officer at my door looking for you, and we don’t exactly have a good excuse.” Bucky laughed under his breath at your comment, silencing himself quickly when he saw your raised eyebrow as you went to hand him his leather jacket.
“I’ll be fine. Raynor can wait for five damn minutes,” he half grumbled, clearly not pleased with the new direction his morning was going in.
“James,” you pleaded. This time he nodded.
As Bucky finished getting himself ready, you managed to get some toast started for him; it wasn’t anywhere close to being enough breakfast for a super-soldier, but it would be ready fast, he’d be able to eat it on his way, and it would hopefully avoid him dealing with Raynor on an empty stomach again... Something was better than nothing.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” You offered again as Bucky opened the front door, slices of toast in hand. “I can make you a little more food, and we’ll-”
“I’m gonna make it on time, peach,” he reassured you gently. You opened your mouth to continue making your case, but he spoke before you could get a word out. “I can out-run your sedan. I’ll be fine.”
That was new information… you felt your brows crease in surprise, resisting the urge to continue asking about this new ability of his he had yet to share, trying not to invade his already dwindling timeline. But if he could run that fast… Bucky laughed softly as he watched you process his comment, gently holding your shoulders to kiss the creases you were making between your brows.
“We can talk more when I get home,” he reasoned, slipping a hand around your waist to pull you just that much closer. “I’ll have more of a plan for tonight by then.”
“That plan better involve the diner; we promised River we wouldn’t miss another week. WE;ll never hear the end of it if we don’t go,” you reminded pointedly.
“So you really do remember last night…” He teased, and you smacked his chest in jest, earning a deep laugh from the super-soldier.
“We’ll be at the diner, don’t you worry. Maybe you could wear that blue dress I know you’ve been saving for something special. I’ll find something to surprise you with tonight, make it memorable.”
“You do that just by being you,” you sighed. Bucky donned an almost giddy smile at your words, and the vibranium hand around your waist tugged you just a little bit closer, and he leaned down to press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. He made your head spin like he always did, making you forget your surroundings so effortlessly.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours for a moment, clearly contemplating doing it again. Miraculously, you found a moment of clarity amongst your brain fog. “Alright, you’ve got to go, Buck.”
“I’ll pick you up at six?” He shot playfully, removing his hand from your waist as he stepped out into the hall, watching as you leaned against the doorframe.
“I’ll be here,” you smiled, unable to hide the smile from your face as he winked at you, just before turning around to make his way down the stairs.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: On Saturday morning, you start to remember all the details of the night before. Sharing yours and Bucky’s relationship with your friends, having entirely too much to drink, and being taken care of by your super-soldier. But now that you were sober, it's time to repay the favor…
Ch 16 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 15 | Ch. 17
Warnings: language, pet names, SMUT [oral - m receiving], a half-baked ending, idk I think that's about it
AN: Hello, I’m back from the dead, and I have nothing to show for myself but a midnight release of some half-beta’d smut 😂 But I TOLD you guys I’d come back!! Y’know, just… two jobs and a deployed boyfriend later 😬 I’m really excited to have this chapter out, I know it’s been a long time coming, but I’m hoping to get back into some kind of groove. I’ve been daydreaming about putting a printed version of Neighbors on my bookshelf, but that requires me to actually finish writing it, lol. And we’re finally tip-toeing the line of seeing events of the show in the fic, so that’ll be exciting 👀 I missed you guys, I’m glad to be back, and I hope you enjoy 💖
The soft rays of the morning light filtered in through your blinds, and you woke up gently to the golden light blanketed across your bedroom. There were no alarms to snooze, no obligations to be met, just a beautifully lazy Saturday morning for you to share with the man sleeping beside you.
It was moments like these that had made these slow mornings one of your favorite things. Rarely did you get to see Bucky’s face relaxed in blissful sleep, normally one to wake up before you and help start your day. But the weekends brought a pleasant lack of worries and expectations for his super-soldier brain to focus on. You loved getting to admire his sharp features in the golden light, mentally charting every detail of his gentle expression before sleep escaped him and his hyper-active mind brought back that crease between his brows.
And as much as you enjoyed seeing Bucky in such an easy state of being, watching him escape the demons that tormented his waking existence, it never failed to make you smile when you felt him begin to stir in the mornings.
Before his face would give anything away, you would feel his mismatched hands roam your body, or reach out to find you if they weren’t already. This morning they were wrapped around your waist, and your cheeks began to burn with the force of your smile as you felt Bucky’s right hand slide down the small of your back until he reached your ass, giving it a playful squeeze. And only when you gave a soft laugh in amusement did his expression crack, the corners of his lips tilting up in a smile before he cracked his eyes open to look at you.
“Good morning,” you cooed, your voice soft as you basked in the adoring attention of his blue-eyed gaze.
“G’mornin doll,” he slurred, using his vibranium arm to cage you in and press you against the planes of his half-naked body.
“How’d you sleep?” You offered, hoping that it was a favorable answer. The shrug of his shoulders told you otherwise.
“Had that dream again, where I’m… him. But I’m fine,” he said with a shrug, which you knew by now meant that he’d had a nightmare that was affecting him more than he could shake, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. At least for now. “How did you sleep, baby?”
“Pretty good. I think all those drinks I had last night might’ve helped because I didn’t move,” you lamented, and you felt Bucky’s body shake with his quiet laughter.
“Oh, those drinks certainly did a number on you,” he grinned, clearly replaying the memories of the night before across his eyelids, and finding amusement in the whole situation all over again. When he looked back to find your brow raised in question, he offered another question. “How much do you remember from last night?”
You scoffed, but couldn’t erase the smile from your cheeks, even in your irritated facade. “How much do I-I remember the night just fine, thank you!” You defended incredulously, going over the details in your own mind before you spat them out in the wrong order and gave him any more ammunition.
At Charlie and Jay’s dinner party, the two of you kicked off the evening by announcing — prompted by your friends’ schemes — that the two of you were dating. You were official, going steady, cuffed… the list of phrases and jabs went on forever, and most of them were used as the dinner party continued with no lack of questions and pleas for details.
Some of the conversations, and the number of drinks you had, are all mixed together, the journey home being much the same. At least until you got into the building. You could vaguely remember falling back into Bucky’s arms on the stairs, and without any connecting context, having your shoes in your hand while you were carried bridal style up to your apartment.
But you did remember the rest of the night. You could remember almost every detail of getting Bucky back into your apartment, and damn near climbing him like a tree. Your intoxication had made you turn feral in an embarrassingly short amount of time, desperate for more of the intimate moments you’d shared before you left for the dinner party.
“Ask me again when you’re sober,” his voice rang through your head, his words from the night before causing a spark to light inside you. You’d wanted him bad last night, and he had wanted you just as much.
“Oh, you remember? Is that why I can see the gears turning in your head?” Bucky’s deep voice said from beneath you, the vibration of his baritone bringing you back from your daydreams, back to the reality where your very handsome super-soldier was half-naked beneath you and still had his hand resting on your ass.
“Mhmm… I remember something about picking up where we left off,” you lilted. You shifted so that you could straddle his hips and get a better look at him, the movement bringing your hips over the already impressive size of him through your thin layers of pajamas and panties.
You did your best to keep yourself from making any depraved sounds. An involuntary roll of your hips caused Bucky’s eyes to close as he took a sharp inhale, and you felt a shiver surge through you watching how easily you could make him crumble.
“I believe I was told to ask you again when I was sober…” you whispered, watching his blue eyes focus back on you and darken as he tried to hide his grin. “What do you say, Sarge?”
With another slight roll of your hips, he adjusted his grip on your ass to squeeze it again, stilling your movement as he twitched beneath you. You tried to keep your whimper at bay, but it did you no good when his vibranium hand found the back of your neck to pull you back down to him, leaning up ever so slightly to crush his lips against yours, eliciting a desperate sound from somewhere you had no control over.
Bucky kissed you senseless, and you lost yourself in the sensual way his lips molded to yours while his tongue licked at your lips, teasing entrance without giving you the satisfaction. Between his gruff moans and the way your bodies continued to move together, it didn’t take long for a familiar puddle of arousal to appear between your legs, no doubt helped by the growing weight beneath his sweatpants.
His hands began to roam across your body, caressing anywhere he could reach, and causing a shiver to run up your spine and break the kiss. Bucky smiled up at you through half-lidded eyes, laughing under his breath as your expression started to mirror his.
“You alright, sweets?” he asked you softly, his hands rubbing a soothing pattern on your back. You nodded enthusiastically, your head swimming with too many inappropriate thoughts to be able to form words, and taking your opportunity to latch onto the stubble-covered skin just beneath his jaw. He hummed in appreciation, and you took your cue to continue traveling downwards, trailing kisses behind his ear and down the column of his neck.
Bucky’s pleasure-laced laughter rumbled through his chest as you continued your barrage down his collarbones, shifting your hips lower as your trailed kisses down his ridiculously large pecs, and making your way all the way across his washboard abs before he reached a hand down to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. The sweet movement gave you a good pause to stop your affections and look up at him, unable to stop the sly grin that appeared on your face as you settled yourself between his legs, your arms braced against his hips.
He let out a shaky breath as he smiled at you. “S’this okay?” you asked sweetly, running your hands across his stomach as you waited for his answer. He released another amused breath.
“I- It’s more than okay,” he grinned, combing his vibranium fingers through your hair, clearly contemplating his words. “But you don’t have to. I don’t want you to think-”
“I want to, Buck,” you assured soothingly, cutting him off before he had a chance to get in his head. “I want to make you feel good. You took such good care of me last night, now it’s my turn.”
“That’s part of my job,” he pleaded, not trying to dissuade you, but too stubborn to let this point slide. “I’ll always take care of you, and I don’t ever expect something in return.”
“Okay, sure. But that’s my job too, y’know,” you argued, satisfied when you could see the gears in his head struggling to find a counter-point. “Let me take care of you, baby… Let me taste you,” you finished with a whisper, enjoying the way his eyelids fluttered at the thought.
Bucky took a breath as if he was steadying himself, watching you adoringly as he licked his lips. “Show me what you want, sweets.”
You had to bite your lip to contain your smile, almost immediately jumping to action. You grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling both the pants and his boxers down over his hips, your mouth nearly watering when his cock sprung free.
You were half convinced you would be just as starstruck by it no matter how many times you saw his dick, admiring his bulging tip hiding beneath the foreskin. You risked another glance up at Bucky, having to contain the excited giggles bubbling inside you before you wrapped your hand around him, giving a few slow pumps to unsheath the angry red tip already starting to leak precum.
At this point, there was nothing in your head other than what you needed to do to get him in your mouth as soon as possible. You darted your tongue out to lick up his length, making a point to swirl your tongue a little more at that special spot just beneath his tip. His sharp inhale spurred you on, wrapping your lips around his head as you continued to swirl your tongue, and your eyes almost rolled back when his thighs involuntary squeezed around you.
“Ohhhh shit… I forgot how good this feels,” he laughed breathlessly. You were immediately distracted by this new information, and unashamedly bolstered by the fact that you’d barely had him in your mouth before he was singing your praises.
“How long has it been? Since you had someone to take care of you like this?”
“Decades,” he answered firmly, and it sent another shiver through you. It was almost embarrassing how much it turned you on that you would be the first one to give him a blowjob in so long.
“Mmm, then I guess we’ll just have to make up for it,” you winked, but before Bucky could question your motives you dove right back in, sliding your lips down enough of his length to comfortably fit. He muttered another curse under his breath and you heard his head hit the pillow, rocked with pleasure.
Now that you’d had a chance to let him get over the initial shock, you set a steady pace. Sucking up his length, and wrapping your tongue around his tip before repeating the process, taking more and more of him each time you bobbed your head.
“You feel too damn good, babygirl,” he hissed, and you could hear his restless hands shifting around the sheets beneath the two of you as you continued to worship his length. When Bucky’s gentle fingers began to comb through your hair, your eyes rolled back a little as he pushed some of the pieces out of your way.
With your clear signs of enthusiasm, he took his cue to continue, both of his mismatched hands collecting all of your hair before his right hand grabbed a fistful, holding just enough tension to make you squirm. You couldn’t hold back your own moans of pleasure from the feeling of his hand gripping your hair, sending the vibrations down his cock with your lips wrapped around him, sucking up and down his length as he let out a throaty groan.
“S’that feel good, sweets? D’you like when I hold you like that?” Bucky asked, fighting his way through the words. You could only hum in agreement from around him, never slowing your ministrations, and taking far too much pleasure in the way it made him break. As you hummed around him, his cock twitched in your mouth, and you glanced up to watch through your eyelids as his head hit the pillow.
With nothing else to lose – and everything to gain – you took one last long drag up the length of him, hollowing your cheeks before going down just that much further to take him to the very back of your throat. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he let out a slew of curses.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep that up…” he muttered. When you nodded, moaning in a sort of plea, he could only respond with incoherent sounds of his own pleasure.
Taking neither of you by surprise, it only took a few more bobs of your head before his grip on your hair tightened, and you kept a comfortable length of him inside your mouth as he hurtled to his climax. You basked in the sounds of desperate pleasure Bucky made as he as he shot warm ropes of cum down your throat.
After he’d finished, and you could feel his length start twitching on your tongue, you made your final attempts to collect his spend. With one last gentle suck, you released his sensitive cock, shooting a sweet smile back up at him – an action that earned you a tired laugh as he turned away from you.
“Fuck, sweets you can’t jus… Take it easy on me, will ya? You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled, and you could hear the soft grin he was wearing. You giggled as you gingerly made your way back up his body, snuggling back into his side.
You could tell Bucky’s super-soldier stamina was already starting to catch back up to him, looking much less tired as he turned his head to look up at you, donning a bright smile when you brought a hand up to play with the scruff on his cheek.
“Did’ya have a good time, Sarge?” you asked him softly, feeling another wave of amusement rumble through his body in response.
“I haven’t felt that good in… I don’t even remember how long,” he answered happily, his voice deep and relaxed. It nearly sent a shiver down your spine on its own.
“Glad to be of service,” you shot back flirtatiously, earning you a sly grin. You hummed a laugh, Bucky following suit as he continued to look at you with those baby-blue eyes. And when your laughter faded, his expression didn’ falter. The hint of adoration quickly overpowered anything else, and you felt your cheeks start to heat up as he gazed up at you as if you’d given him the world. You noticed a small quiver of his brows, but before you could ask him what was going on inside his head, he opened his mouth.
“We’ve done this a little backward, haven’t we?” He asked earnestly, accentuating his words with the smallest scrunch of his nose as if it were obvious what he was talking about.
“How do you mean?” As you watched him contemplate his answer, you couldn’t help yourself from teasing him a little. “If you’re insinuating I should’ve cum first, we can always just do it again.” The deep belly laugh that rumbled through the man beneath you made your heart skip a beat. God, you loved that sound.
“No no, I mean… I mean with us. I never took you out for a proper date, did I?” Bucky’s voice was soft and sincere, which only made his question more confusing.
“Uh, of course you have. What do you think we do every Saturday?”
“That’s different. I just thought it’d be fun to take you dancing, but I never asked you out on a first date the proper way.” And there was the daily reminder of just how old Bucky was, talking about the “proper” steps to dating. The fact that it was almost immediately after getting sucked off was just comical.
“Okay… what about Valentine’s Day? You asked me out then, we had a fun night!” You bargained, taking care to remember the very romantic picnic that had been the cause of your first kiss.
“I was told specifically that that didn’t count,” he teased, and you only rolled your eyes at him. Damn him and his perfect, super-soldier memory… Before you could get another jab in, he cut you off, his voice soft and sincere again. “Let me take you out tonight. We’ll make it an official date.”
“Yeah? And how’re you gonna make it different from all the other Saturday nights at the diner?”
“Oh that’s tonight, isn’t it? That’s…” Bucky trailed off, and you watched the gears slowly turning in his head. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Saturday. It’s Saturday, what time is it?”
Shit.
You nearly launched yourself off of him to reach for your phone on the nightstand. Turning back to him, his expression told you he already knew the answer. “Buck, you’ve got to go.”
If he hadn’t recovered from your intimate escapades of the morning, he definitely had now. Both you and Bucky shot up from the bed in an attempt to get him out the door to make it to his appointment with Dr. Raynor on time. He was already stepping into his dark jeans by the time you’d gotten to the dresser, pulling out the first of his t-shirts you could see and throwing it in his direction.
Bucky caught the black shirt effortlessly and started to put it on as he turned back to you. “I’m serious about this date though. I want to make tonight special,” he pleaded, and you stopped for a moment to watch his muscles flex as he slipped the shirt over his head.
“Yeah, okay great. Right now I’m worried about you missing court-mandated therapy. This conversation will be much less romantic when there’s an officer at my door looking for you, and we don’t exactly have a good excuse.” Bucky laughed under his breath at your comment, silencing himself quickly when he saw your raised eyebrow as you went to hand him his leather jacket.
“I’ll be fine. Raynor can wait for five damn minutes,” he half grumbled, clearly not pleased with the new direction his morning was going in.
“James,” you pleaded. This time he nodded.
As Bucky finished getting himself ready, you managed to get some toast started for him; it wasn’t anywhere close to being enough breakfast for a super-soldier, but it would be ready fast, he’d be able to eat it on his way, and it would hopefully avoid him dealing with Raynor on an empty stomach again... Something was better than nothing.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” You offered again as Bucky opened the front door, slices of toast in hand. “I can make you a little more food, and we’ll-”
“I’m gonna make it on time, peach,” he reassured you gently. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a pretty decent runner.”
“Wow, almost like you’re a super soldier or something!” You jab back at him, breathing a little easier with the reminder. Bucky’s hand slid around your waist and pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek.
“And I’m taking you out for a real date tonight.”
“Date night at the diner?” You asked, eyebrow raised. You could tell he didn’t love how predictable this date night was becoming, but he hadn’t quite come up with a better solution.
“You could wear that dress I know you’ve been saving for something special… I’ll surprise you with something to make tonight memorable, do things the right way.”
“You do that just by being you.” He donned an almost sheepish smile at your words, and the vibranium hand around your waist tugged you just a little bit closer, and he leaned down to press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. He made your head spin like he always did, making you forget your surroundings so effortlessly.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours for a moment, clearly contemplating doing it again. Miraculously, you found a moment of clarity amongst his brain fog. “Alright, you’ve got to go, Buck.”
“I’ll pick you up at six?” He shot playfully, removing his hand from your waist as he stepped out into the hall, watching as you leaned against the doorframe.
“Don’t be late! For the date or your session,” you warned, unable to hide the smile from your face as he winked at you, just before turning around to make his way down the stairs.
When you closed your front door behind you, you felt your cheeks heat up as you thought about the night that laid ahead. What was he going to do? What could he possibly have up his sleeve that would make your Saturday nights at the diner even more romantic?
There was no way to tell what Bucky had up his sleeve. But what you did know was that you needed to brush your teeth soon. You had to get rid of the taste of morning breath and… other things, before you could think about pretty dresses or fun hairstyles.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
“I’m guessing it’ll be ration packs for dinner?” you added, nodding towards the empty satchel hanging from his hip.
“There wasn’t a market on the way back to the ship,” he almost pleaded, trying to explain his intentions, but you simply gave him a tight-lipped nod in acknowledgment.
“I’ll get the packs started so it's ready by the time you’ve unloaded.” Your voice lacked its usual kindness. This shift in the conversation had you speaking with him as if this were all just… business. Had he pushed you too far? Were you trying to remind him that he had hired you to be here? That he should be keeping things… professional?
Fuck. This was why he worked alone.
Warnings: mild language, miscommunication [but not in a horrible way, don’t worry, I’m better than that], young dumb in love din djarin, mild angst, angst with a happy ending, everything is in Din’s pov because i love his dumbass train of thought, idk it’s pretty soft
AN: oh my god i’m back from the dead! I told you guys i’d be back 😂 This request has been sitting in my inbox for probably about a year… and I have no end of apologies, but i’m finally done and it’s a miracle I don’t hate it 😂 I did change the prompt a little… the idea of them putting Grogu to bed was cute, but I had an idea for a younger Din and just fell in love with it, so i ran with that. I hope you guys enjoy 💖 Thank you @deceiver-of-gods for putting up with me all this time, ily 😘
Din had traveled through the toughest parts of the galaxy without batting an eye. He’d run with a mercenary group and proven himself to have more skills, more hits, more value… and more of a moral compass than anyone else in the group. After fighting his way out of their grip, he had taken out high-level targets with ease to earn his way into the Bounty Hunters guild. Din continued to be not only one of the youngest of their ranks, but also the most highly sought after. And after all of that?
You were his greatest challenge.
His Razor crest had taken one too many hits for him to be able to repair on his own, and the costs of repairs on his pre-imperial ship were starting to eat into the funds he usually gave back to his covert. Not providing for them was not an option; the Beroya was supposed to send their spoils back to the covert to provide for those in hiding. This is the way…
So when he landed on a planet with lush, colorful flora, and a generally trusting local people, he least expected you to strike a bargain with him. He needed a mechanic, and you wanted a ticket out. Free boarding and transportation in exchange for a live-in repair crew, he just had to get you the parts. It was his perfect solution. He hired you on the spot and scheduled to ship out as soon as the Crest was back in working order.
On that first day of travel, Din had only just entered hyper-speed when he became overly critical of his ship. The cold, metal surfaces of the hull were uninviting, full of sharp edges, and devoid of any personality. It didn’t take him much longer to realize that, to an outsider, his armor looked much the same.
But he’d never seen it that way before. To him, the Mandalorian armor was a sign of home, of belonging. It had been his savior in his childhood, and a beacon of his people as he grew into his own. He had tucked away into coverts where the blank metal lining of their ships and their walls meant protection.
But you were not Mandalorian. You hadn’t grown up around sharp edges and cold surfaces. The place you called home was filled with warm colors and soft curves, the buildings made to flow with the organic structures of the nature around them, letting in the bright sunlight necessary for its growth. You yourself walked with an elegance Din was unfamiliar with, treading softly on the ground and smiling brightly at him each time your kind eyes met his dark visor. You had shared your warmth with him since the moment he’d met you, despite the coldness he was certain he portrayed, and it surprised him how much he found himself drawn to it. Drawn to you.
You were everything he wasn’t. But Din would do everything in his power to make sure you never came to regret agreeing to this strange setup, that you never felt isolated or alone because you’d chosen him – a walking wall of cold beskar – as your traveling companion.
At first, he’d merely wanted to bring you things that reminded him of your home, things he thought might do the same for you. Anytime he was in a market passing through, either on a supply run or with a bounty in tow, he found something colorful to bring back to you. The first few had been small trinkets, things you could keep in the small cupboard you had decided to call your quarters, or delicate pieces of jewelry he would later catch you wearing around the ship.
The feeling Din got seeing you wear something he gave you made something warm swell inside of him… It made it hard to come back to the ship empty-handed, especially with the promise of your soft smile when he held his hand to you with a new gift.
On one of his trips, he’d brought back a woven tapestry; the craftsmanship had been beautiful, and the colors matched those of the outfits you wore the most around him. Din was about to launch into an apology when he first gave it to you, not having thought about where you would even be able to put it, but his statement was cut short when you happily grabbed it from him and turned on your heel to find something.
Not even a few moments later, you returned with a handful of powerful magnets you’d picked up on a market a few planets back, and he watched as you excitedly hung the artwork from one of the walls in the Crest’s hull, creating a curtain in front of one of the panels on that wall – you must have thought it was as ugly as he did.
“What do you think?” You had asked him, and he watched self-consciousness start to creep in now that your initial excitement was starting to wear off.
“It looks good,” he’d replied a little stiffly, still having a hard time finding the courage to speak around you. A bounty hunter, with hundreds of captures under his belt, was still too shy to talk to his mechanic… he at least wasn’t dumb enough to miss the irony in his own predicament, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t his truth.
Since then, Din had started bringing back more things you could use to decorate the ship with; tapestries, blankets, and cushions accompanied the trinkets and jewelry he brought back with him. He could tell that your favorite of his gifts had been a soft shawl he’d seen hanging at a market in the rural areas of Naboo. The politician’s son he was paid to deliver back home had gone on about the luxury material it was made of, something about ancient processes and unique resources… All he knew was that it brought out your natural beauty when you wrapped it around your shoulders, and he felt his cheeks get warm under his helmet when you did.
The two of you started to fall into these new routines fairly easily, and with all of your redecorations, it was becoming a welcome change. In the evenings – or at least what you thought was evenings in the darkness of hyperspace – you would prep a set of ration packs for the both of you. It was always two of the same kind so that you could feel like you were “sharing a meal,” a concept he had very little experience with. At least, he hadn’t for a very long time.
Since eating required removing his helmet, Mandalorians often took their meals in solitude, or within the confines of their family. You, on the other hand, were used to shared meals in dining rooms with someone at every seat, and communal dining halls bustling with people. At first, Din was afraid you might take offense to him leaving during meal times, never quite sure how to phrase his dilemma.
Luckily, he never had to.
You caught on pretty quickly to his predicament, handing him a warm ration pack with a smile before turning to let him eat in peace. He always rushed through his meals in order to join you in the hull, to thank you for your silent understanding by coming down to talk with you as you ate yours at a leisurely pace.
As the weeks went by, Din picked up on some of your silent requests as well, memories of food that didn’t need to be rehydrated before you ate it. He began looking out for other booths at the markets, and fresh ingredients began coming home in place of some of the gifts and trinkets he always brought back with him. Each time he did, a home-cooked meal would follow, and Din always made sure he expressed his gratitude when he came back down to join you for the second half of your meal.
Your routines continued like this for a while, silently assessing each other’s needs, and wordlessly adjusting to accommodate. And it worked. The Razor Crest felt more and more like a home rather than the metal casing of a ship, small traces of your personal touch nearly everywhere he looked. The food had been better, the companionship had been better, far better than the cold silence he’d had to put up with before you came to him.
And Din started to catch on to just how much his own feelings revolved around you.
He craved your warmth at the end of a rough day, he sought to provide your happiness, to get your approval… He tried to be better at actually opening his mouth, being able to express more of his feelings for you outside of your usual, quiet understanding of each other. He tried asking you more questions, wanting to not only hear about the events of your day but to actually get to know you better, showing you how much he genuinely cared. And Din was elated when you started to do the same in return.
After he came back to the ship from a particularly taxing hunt, he heard your soft footsteps descending the ladder from the cockpit while he secured the unconscious bounty into the corner of the hull you had affectionately deemed “time-out.” The most uncomfortable chair had been secured behind some of your tapestries, acting as a set of curtains that kept the bounties from view.
When Din emerged from the hanging fabrics, he could feel some of the tension leave his body at the sight of you in your work clothes, a warm smile dancing on your grease-stained cheeks, wiping your hands on the old flight suit you’d brought with you from home. No matter how difficult his hunts had been, being able to debrief with you upon his return always made him smile beneath the helmet.
“Hey!” you lilted.
“Hey,” he responded, still a little awkward despite how long you’d been working together. He was getting better, but it could definitely still use improvement.
“How’d the hunt go?” you asked, gesturing to the closed curtain beside him. “Obviously successful if you’ve got someone in time-out.” Din chuckled under his breath at your quip, mulling over the events of his day before he replied.
“It was fine.” You looked at him expectantly for a few moments, waiting for him to continue.
“Just… fine?” you half giggled, one brow raised in question while you donned a crooked grin. It hadn’t really gone bad, he did have the bounty in hand. It could have gone better, but nothing that came to any detriment in the end…
He nodded. “It… went well. There’s nothing to report,” he shrugged, unsure what else you were looking for in his answer.
But your face fell. Only for a moment… but enough for him to see it.
“How are your repairs coming?” He tried, hoping to stir the conversation again, to fix whatever had caused your sudden change in attitude.
“Fine. There’s nothing to report.” Your answer was short, both in your words and your temper. You usually volunteered the finer details of your projects, explaining with a dramatic flair all of your trials and your victories, stories that Din was always happy to be an audience to.
Why hadn’t you done so this time?
“I’m guessing it’ll be ration packs for dinner?” you added, nodding towards the empty satchel hanging from his hip. One that usually carried whatever gift he had brought for you. Dank farrik… he already hated coming back empty-handed – something you had never made him feel guilty for – but right now it was only making him feel worse.
“There wasn’t a market on the way back to the ship,” he almost pleaded, trying to explain his intentions, but you simply gave him a tight-lipped nod in acknowledgment.
“I’ll get the packs started so it's ready by the time you’ve unloaded.” Your voice lacked its usual kindness. This shift in the conversation had you speaking with him as if this were all just… business. Had he pushed you too far? Were you trying to remind him that he had hired you to be here? That he should be keeping things… professional?
Fuck. This was why he worked alone.
One of the downsides of having grown up around the Mandalorians was that his concepts of interpersonal relationships were skewed. The two of you were operating on completely different sets of rules, and where you had been able to read each other incredibly well… Now he was left to try and figure out where he’d gone wrong.
With Mandalorians, he knew where he stood. They spoke with purpose, meaning exactly what they said. Even growing up constantly harassing and sparring with Paz, Din knew where his sentiments came from; competition, comradery, and a deep passion for his people. But outside the covert… Din was still finding his footing when it came to the beings he interacted with. Riding with the mercenary group had at least taught him how to weed through the tangled lies that spewed from their mouths, trusting them only as far as he could throw them – if that.
But you were nothing like those slimy low lives. He didn’t know how to start friendships, how to engage in small talk… and he had no idea where to start when it came to the way you made his heart rate pick up. You made Din nervous, but you were also a comfort. You were new and familiar all at once, a new adventure as well as a place of rest.
You meant so much to him… and he’d managed to drive you away just as quickly as he had let you in.
…
The fog of uncertainty hung around the ship for days, and with it, the cold emptiness he had been so accustomed to in his solitude had returned. But after the warmth you had brought to his Razor Crest, being without it was almost suffocating. Din missed you.
That was a fact he was trying to wrap his head around, seeing as you still lived with him on the ship… but it wasn’t the same. You stopped humming while you worked on different panels across his ship, blanketing the hull in silence. Any questions Din tried to ask you were met with short, quiet responses. Surprisingly, you still made the effort to prepare a ration pack with yours during meal times, but when he rushed back down from the cockpit in record time to join you, you were nowhere in sight.
There was nowhere to go inside his ship. That was one of the things he’d liked about it; there was room for him to live on board comfortably without giving his bounties anywhere to hide. And yet, you still managed to avoid him. When he entered the hull, you escaped to your room. When he climbed up the rungs to the cockpit, you would make some quiet excuse and scurry out the door behind him. No matter where he went, what he said, or whatever measures he took to try and catch you off-guard, you were gone before he could even open his mouth.
He was fucking sick of it. He had made a promise, when you came aboard, that he would make sure you never came to regret choosing this life with him. That you would continue to choose to stay with him, to choose him over the home planet you were so desperate to leave. He made a promise, and he intended to keep it.
After landing on Nevarro a few days later to return his bounty, Din’s plan began to unfold. He walked out of the run-down cantina Karga liked to meet up at – insisting that he was going to fix it up and make it ‘a place of gathering’ – the spills of his hunt clanking against the mechanical chip he had tucked away in the satchel that sat on his belt. A chip that, if missing, would cause systems in the cockpit to go offline.
Something his mechanic would find during her daily diagnosis check.
Din felt a pang of guilt at the thought of you being buried arms deep in the underside of the control panel with no hope of finding the repair, because he was the one to take it from you... But then he thought about the worser fate; what if you figured out what was missing, and had more reason to dislike him than before? His guilt quickly turned into slight panic, making haste to get back to his ship to enact his plan before your clever brain could figure out what he’d done.
When he returned to the Crest, the harshness of the metal hull was almost overwhelming. You had started taking down your tapestries and decorations, save for everything but the “time-out” corner, and it felt cold. You didn’t come out to greet him or welcome him back, let alone acknowledge him at all. You hadn’t done so since the time your conversation had taken a turn for the worst. He did, however, hear a loud metal clang and your familiar grunt of frustration from exactly where he assumed you would be. He wondered if you had even heard him come on board…
Din quietly discarded his weapons before stealthily moving to the ladder just below the cockpit, stopping in his tracks when he heard a slew of colorful curses leave your lips. He waited a few moments until the sounds of your hard work continued, none-the-wiser to his oncoming ambush.
By the time he reached the top of the cockpit, he took a moment to assess the situation and figure out the best approach. You were exactly where he thought you would be, laying on your back just to the side of his pilot’s chair, agile hands fiddling with different cables and boards inside his instrument panel…
And your head snapped up to look at him when he made the door to the cockpit slide closed behind him.
You stared at Din for a couple moments before you opened your mouth. “Did you… are you cornering me?” When you put it that way, this was not going quite as he’d imagined, despite everything going according to plan. He had to keep going.
“You’re ignoring me,” he said firmly, his tone reminiscent of one he took with his bounties.
“Fucking maker, did you hunt me?” You asked with furrowed brows, and your slightly agitated tone made him fairly certain you didn’t actually need his answer. “I live on the same kriffing ship, and you had to treat me like one of your bounties just to say something to me?”
“I had to talk to you. You wouldn’t let me,” he pressed, keeping his voice steady. You gave a huff of indignation.
“I don’t have time for this, Mando, I have to fix your ship,” you threw at him before your body thumped dramatically on the ground as you went back to your work.
“So you are angry at me,” Din stated, sounding more like an observation than a question. He could work with angry. You shot him a glare without moving too much from your position, and he took that as a good enough indicator to continue his interrogation. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Mando…” you started, his moniker leaving your lips in an exasperated sigh, not without a flame of annoyance lurking behind it.
“Don’t make another excuse. I’m tired of avoiding this.” He watched the bluntness of his words hit you, not surprised when you furrowed your brows as you started to slide out from under the console, sitting up to scowl at him properly.
“Another- what? I didn’t make any fucking excuses, I’m not avoiding anything,” you fired off, your tone indicating the exact opposite of what you were saying.
“Then why have you stopped talking to me?” Din expected another fiery response, but instead a split-second of realization crossed over your face before it was replaced with one of irritated confusion. It made him — him, the stone-cold Mandalorian bounty hunter — shift on his feet.
“I stopped talking to you?” You countered, and you waited a moment to let him respond… but he didn’t know what you expected him to say. “Right, because you’ve been super talkative after ‘there’s nothing to report’,” you mumbled, and it caused those same words to ring in his head from the night everything went wrong. You had said them so coldly…
After he had said them to you.
“I- I meant no offense,” he tried a little lamely, still not understanding where he had gone wrong, but wanting more than anything for you to understand that he was willing to fix it. “I didn’t have anything to say.” You gave another sigh, but this one was softer, like you were about to level with him. It was progress, if nothing else.
“Nothing? You couldn’t give me the details of your hunt the same way I tell you about the market? I mean, it’s not as exciting as I make it out to be, I just... “ You trailed off and looked away from him without finishing your sentence, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. He was finally getting answers out of you, he was going to get to the bottom of this, and make good on his promise to keep you happy. This was the way.
He was quick to kneel in front of you, trying to get closer to your level to get away from his interrogation tactic, and communicate that he was willing to listen and receive. “You just what? Help me understand.”
You scoffed a laugh as you shook your head. “There’s not a lot to understand. I like talking with you, I like when we share stories. I just… I wanted to be close with you.”
Din wanted to bang his head against the wall. With or without his helmet. This all started because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to talk? He was a bounty hunter, he should have been smarter than that. He should have been able to tell what had caused such a shift, and been able to fix it before the mission could go sideways.
But, in all fairness, he was a bounty hunter who was used to being alone.
Before Din had lucked into having you travel the galaxy with him on his hunts, he came back to an empty ship. There was nobody else to talk about the day with. And after living amongst the Mandalorians, a people of few words, he wasn’t exactly in the habit of speaking to himself or others. Before you, everything that surrounded Din was just… quiet.
“But… this is just professional, I get that now. I’ll stay out of your way, and I won’t pry. It is your ship, after all.”
And he was about to get himself into even more trouble if he didn’t figure out how to speak right fucking now.
“No,” he started firmly, desperately catching on to the tail end of your admission, but not entirely sure what was about to come out of his mouth. “This isn’t- I don’t… I’m not good at talking.” Strong start Djarin.
“What?” You asked softly. If anything, you pretty much justified his statement. He took a breath to try and steady himself, to dig through the chaos inside his head and find a half-way coherent string of words to offer you, to clean up his mess.
“Mandalorians are quiet. Bounty Hunters keep to themselves. I’m not used to talking,” he reiterated, and he watched your confused expression shift gently into one of intrigue, your sign for him to keep going. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out, I just… didn’t know what else to say. I’m used to sparing people any details that aren’t deemed necessary. Now I know that I shouldn’t do that with you. I’m sorry.”
Din was pleased to find a small smile growing at the corners of your mouth. “I mean… You don’t have to give me every detail. Just the good stuff,” you smiled, making Din’s heart feel warm. He didn’t realize how much he missed the radiance of your smile until now, feeling like he was finally stepping into the sun after spending so long in the dark.
“Just the good stuff… So I’ll tell you how much blood there was when I-”
“No, no thanks,” you cut him off quickly, making a fake gagging sound as he laughed under his helmet. “I take it back, let’s go back to no more talking, I’m good. I’ll just stay up here with all my busted circuits, thank you very much.”
“Please don’t, I can’t go back to quiet,” he said quickly, the smile still plastered on his face as the weight of his words hit both of you.
I can’t go back to quiet.
It was true, he couldn’t. The past few minutes talking with you again, even when you were angry and yelling at him half of the time, had him feeling better than he had in days.
“Oh yeah?” You offered, and he could tell by your knowing smile that you had come to the same realization that he did. You knew how much he had come to need you. “You don’t want a break from all my rambling?”
“Never,” he admitted. Din watched your shoulders relax and your soft smile get brighter as his answer left his helmet, and he realized how much you needed him in return. It made a warmth bloom from deep within his chest, warming him all the way out to the very coldest parts of his Beskar armor. “Never stop. I want you to fill this ship with all your stories, real or exaggerated.”
It caught him by surprise when you leapt up from your spot on the ground to meet his height, flinging your arms around his neck as you held him tight, fitting together perfectly even as you knelt on the floor in front of each other. With only a little hesitation, Din wrapped his gloved hands around you, arms circling your waist and pulling you flush against the plates of his armor, and soaked up everything that was you.
This is the way.
Sooner than he would’ve liked, he felt your grip around his neck loosen, and you leaned back to lock you gaze with his dark visor.
“As much as I’d love to catch up, your ship is driving me crazy and I have got to figure out how to get these control panels back online,” you explained, and Din slowly started to realize he hadn’t thought this part through.
“Well, I uh…”
“You’re welcome to stay and chat, if you’re in the talking mood. I’d love to hear about your meeting in town,” you offered playfully, sending him a wink as you began to shuffle yourself back down under the open compartment of his shift.
Instead, he got down on the ground and laid himself next to you, as if he was going to look at what you were doing with the repairs. Your hands stopped mid-action as you looked at him, and he enjoyed the airy laugh that escaped you at his actions.
“Or you can watch from here, that’s fine, too.”
“I was actually going to offer a suggestion,” he started timidly. You turned away from him as you focused on the wires in front of you again.
“I'll take anything you’ve got. I haven’t seen anything like this in ages… I’ve only got one idea left, but I doubt it’s right. It’s like the reactor chip is missing, but the only way that thing would’ve even budged is if someone-” You stopped in your tracks as Din lifted a gloved hand into your peripheral view, the small reactor chip held between his fingers for you to see.
You paused a moment before turning your head dangerously towards your companion. He could see the corners of your lips twitching as you did everything you could to avoid a smile, and he remained grateful for his helmet as it hid his beaming face from view.
You snatched the chip from his hand and looked back to your circuits. “Get out of my cockpit,” you said quietly, the last few words of your threat lost to your laughter. Din couldn’t stop his own laughter from coming through the modulator as he began getting up from the floor to do as he was told. “You’re making the ration packs tonight,” you added, the smile on your cheeks evident in your voice.
"This is the way."
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: You and Bucky manage to make it to Jay and Charlie’s apartment for dinner and drinks with your friends. But where Bucky’s super-soldier abilities prevent him from getting drunk, you don’t have that luxury…
Ch 15 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 14 | Ch. 16
Warnings: fluff, language, pet names, alcohol, suggestive themes, Bucky’s just a big sap, the definition of heart eyes, idk it’s pretty soft
AN: Oh my god they have friends, we haven’t seen these guys in ages 😂 Obviously this one took a while to get written and posted, but on top of adjusting my plan for the next couple of chapters, I have been going through it 😂I’m so excited to finally have this chapter ready for you guys, I just love to write for Bucky when he’s so happy and in love like he is here, especially after last chapter 😏 Thank you @deceiver-of-gods for being wonderful, ily 💛 I hope you guys enjoy!!
Gif from @buckysbarnes
“Hey! Sorry we’re late, we hit a pocket of traffic,” you lied as Charlie greeted the two of you at the door. “You know how 395 is, it’s always packed with tourists.” Bucky kept his amusement to himself, knowing very well that you hadn’t touched the interstate for that exact reason, but it was a better excuse than what had actually happened in your apartment. And with his track record of being a terrible liar, you took the lead on this one while he kept quiet, which wasn’t out of character for either of you.
“Oh, I should have told you! It’s faster to go around so you come up Maine Avenue, way less traffic,” she explained as she opened the door wider, and he gave the blonde a smile as he followed you in. “We’re just getting settled, Izzy showed up not too long ago.”
“Of course he did,” Bucky teased as he helped you remove your jacket, hearing a quiet protest of ‘I heard that’ from the accused in the other room.
The intimate afternoon you and Bucky had spent together was clouding his brain, his intense feelings for you bubbling just underneath the surface. Now, standing here in your friends’ apartment – friends who still didn’t quite know the extent of your feelings for each other – pretending you hadn’t given him what was probably the best orgasm of his life… It felt like whiplash.
Was it wrong how much he loved it?
Bucky loved the excitement of it. This beautiful thing with you was so new to him, and it was only for him. He wasn’t under any obligation to share your relationship with anyone else unless he decided he wanted to, something special just the two of you could share.
Back in his prime, he wouldn’t have had such luxuries; relationships came with pressure. When he was proposing, how big the wedding would be, how many kids he wanted to have... He could hear a distant ringing of some of those mothers' shrill voices… “You’re not getting any younger, I expect a ring and promise of grandchildren within the year.”
Bucky could love you at his own pace. He could take his time to unravel you and get to know each strand that made up your whole, and give you time to know his in return. He knew that loving all his strands was asking a lot… but with you, he didn’t feel like it was asking too much. He had fallen in love with all of you, and he would wait as long as it took for you to do the same.
As his head swam with romantic notions, he took a moment to look at you as you talked with Charlie in the entryway, handing off the bottle of wine you’d brought as she talked about … something, he wasn’t listening for shit. He was too focused on how beautiful you looked in the flowy blouse you’d paired with a pair of light jeans, the shimmery texture of the silk complimenting all of your curves.
You floated around gracefully on a pair of comfortable wedges – your words, not his – your calves flexing flatteringly in the jeans that already helped accentuate the curve of your ass. You talked animatedly with Charlie before she stepped around the corner to put the wine with the rest of the drinks. When your hostess disappeared you turned back to catch his appreciative gaze, leaning up just a little less than usual to press your painted lips to his in a chaste kiss, lacing your fingers together before gently pulling him with you.
He followed you like the lovesick puppy he knew he was, seeing everyone from the diner settled around the living room. River was the first to skip through the furniture to make her way over, wrapping you in a tight hug despite having seen you at work only a few hours ago.
Bucky tore his gaze from you to look back out into the room, returning Jay's nod and Izzy’s half-wave before being looped into River’s arms for his own hug. She was a sneaky one, having managed to ease him into more and more of a hug each time he saw her, working up from a side-arm embrace to the tight hold she had on him now.
“I missed you, ya brick wall,” she said excitedly, earning an amused huff under his breath. “You better show up at Morelli’s tomorrow night, it’s weird without you guys.” She released him with a threatening glare and hopped back over to where she’d set her stuff on the coffee table. He wasn’t surprised to see her pick up a Starbucks cup that was still steaming.
“What do you mean by weird?” he asked with a cock of his brow, more than happy when you tucked yourself back into his side, his left hand instinctively resting at the small of your back.
“It just- I don’t know. It feels empty,” she shrugged.
“Like there's a hole in the middle of the dance floor,” Izzy offered nonchalantly, as if he was stating a fact.
“That’s very sweet, but you don’t have to make things up just to get us to come to the diner,” you sassed. Charlie rolled her eyes as she sat on the arm of the couch next to her husband.
Bucky had been so doll dazed over you that he’d hardly registered Charlie’s different appearance. Her usual pin-curl updo was gone, her hair hanging at her shoulders in soft – though no less perfectly styled – golden curls. The usually bright patterns of her dancing dresses had been traded for a simple green material, though the dress still bore a resemblance to the sewing patterns his mother used to swoon over.
“There she goes, blinded by her own modesty,” Charlie sighed. Bucky had plenty of his own stories to add to her comment, but he was too intrigued by this new topic to risk cutting it short. “I’ll admit to sugar-coating things, but Izzy doesn’t.”
“Even though I wouldn’t trust everything Izzy says…” Jay teased, followed by a grumble of agreement from the group, and a glare from the man in question. “I do trust River. I swear, I think she knows everything. Like she’s omnipotent or something.”
“Oh, come on, I don’t know everything… If I did, I would’ve joined the Avengers years ago instead of having to go to a civilian job every damn day. I’d give Steven Strange a run for his money,” The rest of your friends laughed at River’s playful jab, but Bucky’s throat felt tight, and he could feel you stiffen in his arms.
“Alright, save your guilt trips. We’ll be at Morelli’s tomorrow night, and your precious dancefloor will be back to normal,” you rushed to reply, and Bucky felt a wave of relief when the rest of the group was satisfied with your answer. He spared a glance down towards you to find your gaze already trained on him. We can’t get distracted by each other tomorrow, your expression said. Unfortunately, he agreed.
“You better, or I swear to god I’m gonna bust down your door and drag you there myself,” River mumbled pointedly into her coffee cup, causing the group to erupt in a fit of laughter. As she did, he watched her eyes go wide and wondered if it was the caffeine finally entering her bloodstream. She dropped the cup from her lips and pointed a finger at Charlie. “This would be so good with alcohol!”
“Yeah, that’s what you need. A shot of Bailey’s with your extra shot of espresso,” you sassed. When River shot up from her seat, you paid for your comment by being roped into her scheme, a borderline wicked grin on her face as she grabbed your arm and pulled you from Bucky’s grasp. You shot him a confused look as you were led away, but he simply shrugged as he laughed under his breath.
As the girls corralled you into the kitchen, Bucky turned back to Jay and Izzy, the latter reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table to top off the glass in his hand. “Can I pour you one, James?” Izzy offered, and the supersoldier nodded as he walked closer.
“That’s the good stuff. Charlie got it from one of her customers at the restaurant. Perks of being head chef at a high-end place all the snobs of DC flock to,” he boasted proudly. Bucky gave an appreciative nod as he accepted the glass being extended to him, and settled into a spot in the corner of the U-shaped couch.
“It tastes like it, too. I don’t know how much it costs, but it tastes severely out of my budget. I’ll continue living in blissful ignorance,” Izzy sighed into his glass, earning chuckles from the other two. When the dark liquid hit Bucky’s tongue, the surprising smoothness had him agreeing; it tasted better than almost any other whiskey he’d had in his extended lifetime, though it wasn’t hard to beat the liquors immediately following the prohibition. Depression-era finances could only buy you so much.
Glancing above the rim of his glass, he could see Jay cast a sideways glance past his companions, his position on the couch giving him the only vantage point into the kitchen. It was discreet, but whatever he saw prompted him to swirl his drink and change the subject.
“Hey, how was New York?” Jay asked casually, and Bucky watched in his peripherals as Izzy sat up a little straighter.
“It was good. She put together a really great trip,” Bucky started, happy to tell the guys all about your time in Brooklyn, but staying alert to whatever they seemed to have planned. “We stopped by that bakery you recommended, saw the Statue, walked around my old stomping ground…” Went to see my family… He should probably leave that part out and avoid further questions. “It was nice.”
Jay nodded when Bucky finished his statement, a little robotic in his actions. Izzy, however, seemed much more natural than his cohort.
“Sounds like a fun weekend,” he offered, a sly grin growing on his face. Bucky knew that look all too well… he was in for trouble. “I’m glad you could get away for a romantic trip with your lady.”
The whiskey glass that had almost touched his lips came to a halt.
“What?” The two men in front of him shared a mischievous look before turning back on him, Izzy scooting to the edge of his seat as Jay lifted off of the back of the couch. But before they could get anything out, he heard high-pitched laughter from the kitchen.
“JAMES! They tricked me!” you cried from the kitchen. Bucky shot a glare back to his companions – who at least had the decency to look guilty – before he shot up from the couch.
He found you cornered against the counter while River and Charlie circled around you. When he stepped into the kitchen their eyes went wide, like they were children being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He had plenty of experience with that; Becca was too good at talking him into helping her satisfy her sweet tooth when their mother was out of the room, no matter how many times they got caught.
“They’re pestering me with questions about New York,” you explained, your tone suggesting that the conversation the girls had started wasn’t dissimilar to the one he’d just gotten out of.
“I see,” he nodded, wasting no time to step between the girls and get through to you. They fumbled through excuses and pleas for him to stop, but they fell on deaf ears as he stood in front of you, your lip caught between your teeth in an amused grin, looking at him like he was your knight in shining armor. Fuck, he was so doll-dizzy for you…
Bucky didn’t say another word before he hoisted you up into his arms, feeling you instinctively wrap yourself around him as he turned to carry you away. But by the time he crossed the threshold from the kitchen into the living room, River took hold of his right arm and went slack.
“Damn, James, what do you lift?” River groaned, doing everything she could to stop him, no match for his super-soldier strength. “This isn’t doing fucking anything…” He chuckled quietly to himself as he walked – and dragged – the two of you out into the living room, the clacking of Charlie’s heels following close behind him.
When Bucky reached the couch, he took care to hold you tight to him as he kneeled on the cushions, gently lowering you down so that he could lay on top of you, caging you in his arms and away from the rest of the party. And as he went, he was sure to keep his right arm in just the right spot for River to make an equally smooth descent the rest of the way to the floor, still not relinquishing her hold. Her stubbornness fell just shy of his own, but right now she was giving him a run for his money.
Bucky looked down at you, pleased to find your warm smile directed up at him, your arms still linked around his neck as you gathered your thoughts. He didn’t take his eyes off of you when you glanced over at Jay and Izzy on the other side of the couch, your expression accusatory when they shifted uncomfortably.
“James, I think they ganged up on us, and I don’t appreciate it,” you mock-whispered so that everyone around you could hear it.
He chuckled in amusement. “I don’t either,” he grinned, taking note of the sparkle of mischief in your eye. “I’m starting to think that tonight wasn’t ever about catching up after missing nights at the diner,” he argued, and he could feel a shift in the room as they all rushed to a defense.
“Hey, that’s not fair!”
“C’mon, I didn’t say that!”
“I mean, it kinda was…” Charlie tried, and you turned to her with a cocked brow. Her expression turned halfway guilty, but she was quick to back up her statement. “It was! Maybe we were trying to get something out of you, but give us a break… you guys were all over each other, and then all of a sudden you just started mysteriously skipping diner nights with half-baked excuses-”
Your offended laugh cut her off. “Last week was his birthday! Charlie, we weren’t even in DC,” you argued, and based on his previous conversation, Bucky could already feel Izzy’s impending comment.
“Yeah, for a romantic birthday getaway in your single-bed hotel room.”
Before he could think to question Izzy, Bucky felt the olive-toned hand still attached to his bicep start to tighten. You were struck silent, clearly trying to figure out how your secret had gotten out. Bucky leaned slightly to his right to meet River's gaze over the edge of the couch cushion – at least, as well as he could before she turned away from him.
“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he interrogated, a growing smile on his face. He felt the moment that realization hit you, rolling with unmatched speed to the edge to follow his gaze, rolling so fast he had to make an effort to keep you both balanced on the couch. At the same time you moved to stare her down, River retracted her hand from Bucky’s arm, opting to cover her face with her hands and roll on her stomach to avoid your gaze.
“I didn’t mean to,” River groaned, muffled by the carpet. “When you showed me the hotel you were staying at, it still had your reservation in the corner… ‘single bed, liberty view’... I was gonna keep it to myself! But they started speculating, and then I slipped up, and they dragged it out of me,” she lamented, still facedown on the floor.
You rolled back underneath him with a huff of exasperation. The expression on your face was a complicated blend of emotions; frustration, confusion, bashfulness, all wrapped up into one flustered – and borderline amused – concoction. And as much as he wanted to feel those emotions with you… all Bucky could do was laugh. It was a low sound that rumbled through his chest, and he hoped you would find your way through to join him.
As much as he liked being able to love you at his own pace, to keep you all to himself if that’s what he wanted… he didn’t. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wear it proudly like a badge on his chest. Back in the day, he would have told his mom about you by now. He would have told her how wonderful you are, and about the way you snuggle into his side in your sleep each morning, pulling him back in when you can feel him stir awake at odd hours. At the very least, he would have blabbed to his sister about you by now – in a way, he already had.
And he had no doubt that Steve would have picked up on it earlier than Bucky would have ever been prepared for. He would gush one too many times about how pretty you looked twirling in his arms on the dance floor, and the punk would’ve been asking when he needed to have the wedding vows done.
After all the changes and detours his life had taken, knowing that he was surrounded by people who cared not only for him, but for the two of you together… all Bucky needed to spill his guts to these friends of yours was a sign that you were ready to do the same.
“Alright listen, let me just show you what we see,” Jay started, pulling Bucky just far enough out of his thoughts to listen to their arguments again. “The entire time we’ve been teasing and nagging and prying… James has been sitting there looking at you with the biggest heart eyes I’ve ever seen.”
You eased your gaze back to his baby blues, and Bucky couldn’t help the boyish grin that made his cheeks hurt. Jay’s comment was starting to break through your mix of emotions, a matching smile starting to crack your cheeks, effectively turning his insides to mush.
“What’s goin’ on between you two, hmm?” Charlie asked softly, taking on a tone very fitting for her role as the mother hen of the group.
Bucky watched your face closely, watched your eyes roam over his features, and could feel the patterns you were tracing into his biceps as you thought about your answer. Then, ever so slightly, your smile softened and grew at the same time – the smile he loved to see each time he playfully flirted with you – before you turned sheepishly to the side, avoiding everyone else’s scrutiny.
“We’re going steady,” he admitted reverently, showering you in the glow of his happy smile. A smile only you could put there.
The words had only just left Bucky’s lips when the girls started cooing, which just made you curl even further into him, the faintest laugh escaping you as you tried to hide in the cage of his arms. A sing-song of ‘Aww’s and ‘You guys are too cute’ emanated from Charlie and River, who had picked herself back up off of the floor now that she wasn’t in trouble.
While you took a moment to recoup, Bucky spared a glance out at the rest of the group, and the four smiling faces looking back at him caused something to shift inside of him. Jay and Izzy were not quite as vocal in their support, but their composed responses of ‘Happy for you, man’ and ‘About time you fessed up’ made him feel just as light as warm as the girls' more shrill comments did.
He would never admit it to his therapist, but having a group of friends to share something so special with wasn’t half bad… Maybe catching up tonight wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
…
You were tipsy.
It was adorable if he was being perfectly honest. You weren’t so far gone to make a fool of yourself, but you were definitely more laid back, more amused by the events of the evening. You laughed easier – your real laugh, not the fake one you thought sounded nice – complete with rosy cheeks and relaxed affection. Now that the cat was out of the bag, it was easier to give a little bit more than the two of you usually displayed in front of the group. Some extra kisses to your temple, or ones on his cheek when it was within reach, but nothing at all unfamiliar.
Your soft hands slid easily over every inch of him you could reach, calming and casual touches that made him feel warm. You had cuddled right up to him on the couch, settled practically in his lap as you chatted happily, pressing your lips against his shoulder to kiss him through his sweater between sips of your drink.
About an hour before leaving, you decided you’d had enough to drink, putting away your empty glass to prevent yourself from pouring anymore. And in that hour, you had taken enough sips from his glass to have downed half of his last glass of whiskey, no matter how many times you made a face as it burned going down.
Bucky would almost giddily admit that watching his girl drink out of his glass had almost the same effect as the alcohol. Well, the effect it would’ve had if not for the serum running through his veins.
And as adorable as it was watching you get progressively sillier, getting you home was a mission he couldn’t have seen coming, suddenly coming to your senses in the entryway when he was helping you back into your coat, and you watched him grab your car keys.
“Bucky!” you had whispered harshly, clearly trying to sober yourself up. “You don’t have a driver’s license!”
“From this century,” he murmured, and going by your furrowed brows, it wasn’t the answer you were looking for. “It’ll be fine, sweets. I’ve had training for almost every kind of transportation you can think of, I can handle driving your sedan,” he laughed.
“What if we get pulled over? They’re not going to care about… about training,” you grumbled, and he wanted to kiss away all the worried wrinkles on your forehead.
“Then I won’t do anything that’ll get us pulled over.” He waited for you to make your peace with his answer, kissing your temple before placing a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s go home.”
The entire drive you had sat in the passenger seat and been the cutest driving instructor he’d ever seen. You pointed out speed limit changes and called out each color of the stoplights as he approached them, strangely alert for your level of intoxication, but he chalked it up to your general apprehension for him doing things he wasn’t supposed to – which amused him more than he would ever be able to explain.
You seemed to have sobered up a little during the drive, navigating getting out of your small car and up to the door of your apartment complex like you hadn’t had more than a few sips. You stood on your wedges easily as you walked in front of him, the little extra sway of your hips being the only indication you were affected by the drinks you’d had throughout the night.
Until the stairs.
“I’m fine Buck. Look, I bet I could take two at a time,” you boasted, getting cocky at the halfway point in your journey up to your apartment. Normally he didn’t mind having to climb the flights of stairs up to your doorstep, one of the perks of being a super-soldier, but right now he’d pay any amount of money to be able to close you into an elevator and keep you unscathed.
“Please don’t,” he grumbled, half amused by your confidence, and half concerned you would actually start carrying through on your threats. “You’re gonna break your leg. Would you just let me-”
He hadn’t even finished his question when you stumbled on your heel, your ankle buckling and sending you back into his arms. You turned your head to the side to look at him with wide eyes, and he returned your gaze with a raised brow, a silent I told you so.
“Well that kinda gave a whole new meaning to… to that thing we say… the catching thing,” you tried, ignoring his eye roll as you let him lift you back up into a standing position.
“I’ll always catch you,” Bucky reminded you softly, appearing in front of you to see a sweet smile spread across your flushed cheeks.
“Yeah, that one,” you sighed reverently, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.
Bucky took advantage of your position on the landing between two flights of stairs, propping you up against the wall between them as he held you steady. He held your gaze as he dropped to one knee in front of you, sliding his hands over your jeans until they smoothed over your calf. The way your eyes followed him lit him on fire, but he ignored the feeling to focus on the task at hand before you managed to distract him again.
“I’m taking your shoes off so you don’t hurt yourself,” he told you, lifting your pointed foot to rest on his knee, dragging his eyes away so that he could focus on the straps of your wedges and undo each one with precision.
As he slipped the first shoe off of your foot, keeping a hand on the underside of your calf to keep you steady as he set it to the side, you cocked your head and retorted back.
“But I look good in them.” He chuckled to himself as he placed your bare foot gently on the ground and grabbed the other, propping the offending shoe up on his knee.
“Yes, you do. But I’d like to get you home in one piece.” There was a half-second of silence, but he could feel you cooking up a snarky reply.
“What if I just want to look good for my man?” He did his best to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine.
“Babygirl, you’d look good in nothing but an old t-shirt and a pair of socks,” he laughed, trying to brighten the mood as he finished discarding your other shoe. But when he risked a glance back up at you, he wished he hadn’t.
The look in your eyes was nothing less than sultry, comparable to one you gave him earlier in the afternoon when things were much more intimate.
For a moment Bucky was frozen in place, his perfect memory replaying the events that took place earlier in the afternoon… you shot him that look, and the next thing he knew you were sprawled out on the bed wearing scraps of black lace and looking divine. It had such a hold on him that he barely recognized that you were moving, reaching out to run a hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp the way you’d discovered drove him crazy.
By some miracle, he snapped out of the trance you’d locked him in, setting your foot back on the ground and grabbing your wedges before standing back up to his full height. Bucky ignored the way you watched him move closer to you with doe eyes – a facade for what was really going on in your head – and proceeded to hand you your shoes, catching you by surprise. Before you had time to question him, he was already ducking down to tuck one arm under your knees and the other secure around your waist, picking you up bridal style.
For a moment, you just stared at him in disbelief. But as he started walking up the stairs the rest of the way to your apartment, you donned a cheeky grin as you wrapped one arm around his shoulders.
“I’m not that drunk, I would’ve been fine,” you argued, tracing a delicate pattern into his back as you looked up at him through your lashes.
“Hm, but you were drunk enough to have already fallen into me,” he reminded pointedly. You simply shook your head as if he were telling you a joke.
“Fallen for you…” That one flirty line cracked his stern act, and he could feel his cheeks start to tinge with pink as his smile grew.
You giggled under your breath, leaning in close to press your painted lips to his warm skin for a handful of chaste kisses on his cheek. You lingered there for a minute, the tip of your nose brushing against his skin and your warm breath tickling his sensitive skin.
“I’m a big girl, y’know. You don’t have to take care of me…” While he waited for you to finish your sentence, your lips traveled closer to his ear but never made contact. “You’ve already done it three times today…” you whispered, sending flashes across his eyelids of your pleasured face, your pretty mouth hung in an ‘o’ while he got you to your climax.
“With all due respect,” he started, using all of his willpower to find his composure, his voice full of a conviction he wasn’t sure he actually possessed. “That’s my job. I’ve got to take care of my girl.”
“Mmmm I love it when you call me that…” you sighed, and Bucky was grateful for the momentary distraction from your otherwise indecent thoughts. It gave him just enough time to make it to the top of the stairs just in front of your apartment without any more distractions.
He sent you down gently on your welcome mat so that he could reach into his pocket to fetch his keys, but he eyed you carefully as you leaned back against the doorway and watched him with your lip between your teeth. You stayed right where you were when he leaned forward to line his key up with the door, pressing your body right up to his as you snaked your free hand up the planes of his chest, one finger dipping into the neck of his sweater to fish his dog tags back out.
The lock clicked open, and you took your cue by stepping close into his space, hooking a finger into the chain around his neck. In the moment his brain was trying to hotwire itself back to a starting position, he pushed the door open behind you, and followed in a lovesick haze while you pulled him into the apartment by his tags.
He was vaguely aware of kicking the door shut as you threw your wedges somewhere in the living room, yanking him down by the chain on his neck to attach your lips in a crushing kiss. It was hungry, his hands instinctively slotting around your waist as he got pulled in by the wave of your desperation. Your hands were everywhere, breathing heavily against each other as your lips danced in tandem with each other, tongues battling for control.
Bucky was lost in the muscle memory of it all, consumed by his desire for everything that was you when he broke the kiss to start trailing kisses on the underside of your jaw, making his way to the sweet spot just below your ear. There was a nagging in the back of his mind… he had to stop, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen, he had to make it stop before it got too far.
You let out a whimper that shot straight to his core, and he groaned against your neck. “Take me to bed, Sarge… let’s pick up where we left off.”
Shit. He mentally cursed the fact that you knew exactly how he was wired, that you knew calling him by his rank would make him crumble. But he couldn’t, not in the state you were in. He’d be in his head the whole time, wondering if you really wanted any of it while he split you apart, buried himself into you, made you scream his name…
You were too drunk for him to be having these kinds of thoughts.
Bucky slowly pulled his lips away from your smooth skin, dropping his head to your shoulder to regain his composure. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he chuckled, the hands slotted around your waist wrapping around your middle to keep you close to him. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”
You laughed airily as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “James, I’m not that drunk.”
“And I don’t want you any drunk,” he was quick to reply, feeling you pause as you processed his words.
“Not tempted?” You asked hesitantly, and there was still a note of playfulness in your tone. He released a heavy sigh as he leaned back, meeting your sultry expression with an exasperated one of his own.
“No ma’am,” he husked, watching your expression shift as your slightly intoxicated mind tried to sort through your own thoughts.
“Are you… not interested?” you asked, your voice quiet. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was it possible that you – even in this state – could think that was even remotely true?
Bucky made a sound of disappointment as he lifted his right hand to cradle your neck. “I’m very interested, sweets.”
“I don’t understand,” you laughed. He pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead.
“Ask me again when you’re sober,” he said softly, waiting for you to understand what he was asking you. He watched relief finally flood your features, nodding in agreement as you smiled bashfully, and the worry you had caused in him had melted away. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
You simply nodded, wrapped your arms around his neck a little tighter, and tucked yourself into him as you waited to be carried to your room. You pressed sweet kisses to his shoulder as he lifted you into his arms, and crossed your small apartment to begin getting you settled into bed.
…
“Bucky,” you whispered.
“Yes, baby?” He whispered back, cracking an eyelid open to watch you carefully
“Can you feel that?” you asked with a curious grin as your fingers wrapped around his bicep. “When I touch your arm?”
“Mhm, I do. But that’s my right arm, sweets.” You furrowed your brows and looked down at your hands in the dark room, so he flexed his muscles in your grasp to better illustrate which side of him you were laying on. He laughed when you cursed under your breath.
“C’mere,” Bucky said softly, turning on his side so that he was facing you, taking your hands and guiding them to the vibranium of his left arm for you to explore.
You trailed your much smaller fingers across his forearm, moving slowly up the expanse of the prosthetic, the synthetic receptors inside of his arm sent electrical synapses through to the rest of his body. Your gaze shifted from the shadow of where your hand danced across the vibranium, looking up at him to try and gauge his response through the dark.
“Can you feel that?” He nodded gently, laughing under his breath when your brows shot up your forehead.
“I can feel where you touch me, and how you’re touching me,” he started, amused when he felt the increase in pressure when you tried to squeeze his prosthetic bicep. “Yeah, I felt that…” he grinned, pleased with your hushed giggle. “But I can’t feel you. How soft your skin is, or how cold your hands are when you have them pressed up against me.”
You looked back at him like he held your heart in his hands, and he just about melted.
“My hands are cold?” He nodded.
“To me. But thanks to the serum, I tend to run warm, so it might just be me.”
“Hmmm, you are warm,” you smiled, taking your cue to wrap your body around his rather than just lie next to each other – he liked it better that way, anyway. “S’that why you don’t like wearing clothes to bed?” You asked innocently, running your icy hands over his bare chest.
“That’s why I don’t wear a lot of clothes to bed,” he defended, though he wasn’t fooling anyone. The only reason he was currently wearing his grey sweatpants was because of your inebriated condition – he didn’t need to make it any easier for you – but he was a little warmer than he liked to be because of them. “Stop torturing me with your frozen hands and go to sleep,” he grunted, trying to sound stern, but his facade didn’t last when you broke out into giggles.
“You know what, Buck?” He gave a low hum in acknowledgment. “We fit together really well. Like puzzle pieces… cause when we’re the same, it fits. But when we’re different…” You pressed your entire palm down on his pec, making him take a sharp inhale in shock before you quickly removed it with a crooked grin. “Our different fits too.”
“You think so?” he asked softly.
“Mhmm.” He hesitated for a moment, giving himself ample time to adjust to the way his heart swelled with your affection.
“I like that,” Bucky whispered, not quite brave enough to trust himself with anything louder.
“Me too,” you sighed wistfully, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled through his body, his chest shaking with quiet laughter.
“You know what I think?” You turned your head up at him and hummed lightly in response. “I think you should go to sleep, my love.”
Shit.
Bucky swore his heart stopped beating as he waited for the world to crash down around him.
But as his heart started pounding in his chest, you simply closed your eyes and laughed airily, snuggling into his embrace.
“Yeah, alright…” You yawned. “G’night Bucky.”
Had you even heard his slip-up? Or were you just too drunk to recognize that he’d called you ‘my love’… or, alternatively, was he putting entirely too much thought into this?
He managed to bring himself back down from his self-induced adrenaline rush, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he wished you sweet dreams – you were more likely to have them than he was, anyway. And as he felt you drift off into sleep, completely relaxed in your place tucked under his arm, he willed himself to just. Stop. Thinking.
My love… Bucky had never called anyone that in his entire life, all 106 years of it. But, in all fairness, he’d never felt this way about anyone before, not even in his prime.
Only you.
He would tell you tomorrow, he had to. Holding in those four words was starting to go to his head.
Steve would’ve made fun of him, without a doubt. “Finally having human emotions? About a dame, no less, you feelin’ alright Buck?” He would have teased, and Bucky would have just rolled his eyes, shove him around to try and stop him from laughing at how in love Bucky was with you.
But he was. With every genetically enhanced fiber of his being, Bucky was completely in love with you. And tomorrow, he’d figure out just how he was going to tell you.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: Your second day in the covert reveals both new and familiar faces; hospitality and hostility.
Chapter 2 of the Shereshoy series | Masterlist | Ch. 1 | Ch. 3
Warnings: lots of Mando’a, mild language, soft Din, awkward Din, protective Din [he’s got a wide range, okay?], original Mandalorian characters… maybe a little bit of angst? It’s mostly worldbuilding, so I think that’s about it.
AN: A word from the author – "I'm in grad school, I take forever to write things." This is the second part of a sister fic for my fic Courting a friend of mine wrote based on this request, and I’m so happy she’s letting me share it with you guys! In this chapter, we get to see some new faces – or helmets, I should say – and I am here for what they have in store for us! Thanks for reading, we hope you enjoy 💛
This series is also on AO3, so you can read this chapter there too…
Translations:
Baar’ure: medics
Gotabor(e): (approx) mechanic(s)
(Lit.) engineer(s)
Aruetii(se): outsider(s)
Me’bana?: What happened?
Copikla bal mirdala: cute and clever
Copikla: meant to refer to babies and animals - never women unless you want your head ripped off
Could be considered a backhanded compliment or an insult
Ne shab'rud'kaysh, vod: (Approx) Don’t fuck with her, brother.
(Lit.) Don't mess with her, brother. (extremely strong warning, likely to be followed by violence)
N'eparavu takisit, vod: (Approx) Sorry, brother.
(Lit.) I eat my insult, brother
Me’dinui: share, give to one another
Aliit: family
Solus mhi oyacyi: (Approx) United, we remain
Buy’ce: helmet
Ik’aad: baby, child under 3
Jatne vod: “sir” or “ma’am”
Cabur(e): guard(s)
Kad: In reference to Kad Ha’rangir, destroyer god in the old Mandalorian pantheon
Utreekov: fool, idiot (lit: emptyhead)
Ni ceta: (Lit) I kneel, (approx.) I’m sorry
Ni ven’ceta par gar ratiin: I will always kneel for you
You feel the chill of the cave air settle around you as you rise from your slumber.
Opening your eyes, a soft glow leaks into your space from the room adjacent— signaling that Din is also awake. Not that he sleeps for very long anyway. Rather than immediately leaving the comfort of your sleeping mat to join him, you opt to spend a few extra minutes holding the little one close, hand on his back, as he continues to sleep soundly on your chest. Mornings like these are commonplace— cuddling with the Child until you feel ready enough to begin the day; making fresh caf for you and Din to share, feeding yourself and the little one, while enjoying the quiet company of one another in the cockpit. Perhaps our routine can stay somewhat the same, even here.
Mustering the strength to pull yourself from your warm cocoon of blankets, you slowly rise, trying to not disturb the Child. Two feet on the cold stone ground, and a blanket wrapped over your shoulders, you wander towards the common room.
In the corner sits a short-legged table, the perfect height to tuck ones’ legs beneath while enjoying a meal, or in this case, the morning caf. Din sits beside it, his shoulders and head leaning against the wall, his legs outstretched and crossed in front of him, and his hands interlaced across his abdomen. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was sleeping; but for the first time in a long time, Din is simply relaxing.
His head turns slightly to look at you as you approach, his arms slowly extending upward for the morning trade-off of the Child. Din guides him to lie against his shoulder while you ease yourself down to the floor, sitting across from him. Getting to watch Din with the Child like this was rare— it wasn’t often Din was able to decompress, allowing his body a break from the constant weight of armor. With bounty hunters and Imperials searching for the three of you, danger lurked around every corner. Din had to be prepared to fight at any moment. Seeing him unarmored and at ease— getting to enjoy the simple action of cuddling with his Foundling— makes you feel more calm, despite how unsettled you had been the day before.
“Did you sleep well?” Din asks— his voice soft, to not stir the Child.
“Yeah…” you nod, your fatigue causing you to trail off, leaving your thoughts incomplete. When Din shut out the lights before falling asleep, the pitch black of the cave was not unlike the darkness in the Crest every night. Despite the sleeping mat not quite matching the feel of your bed on the ship, the familiarity of the darkness had been a comfort, allowing sleep to come easily.
However, it wasn’t entirely refreshing— with the usual lag of being on a new planet, as well as the ever present nip of the air throughout the night. Feeling the chill of the bedrock beneath you, you pull your blanket tighter around yourself. “...but it’s colder here than I expected.”
He readjusts, shifting the child to his other shoulder before replying. “The temperature underground remains constant,” he tells you, not unkindly, “It’s best to dress warmly— prevents the stone from absorbing your body heat.” He taps his fingers on the ground to emphasize his point. You nod, and the three of you ease into a comfortable silence, Din continuing to lie against the wall as you pull the blanket tight around you once more, hunching forward to rest your arms on the table, and your head atop your arms. It’s almost too easy to doze off again, your grogginess coupled with Din’s calming presence.
Before you’re able to drift back into a light sleep, he gently places his free hand on your arm, giving a light squeeze. His gruff voice just barely above a whisper, “I know you’re tired— but we won’t be out long… You’ll meet the baar’ure and the gotabore, and we’ll come back here.”
Gotabore— that’s a new one. The mechs?
Your eyes meet his visor again, and with a small sigh, you nod at him. “Let me get dressed… then I’ll make the caf.” Giving him a weak grin, he gently removes his hand from your arm, allowing you to stand back up and return to your sleeping area once again. While changing into a set of durable work-clothes, the time alone offers you the chance to reflect on the current arrangement— reiterating once more where you’ve come to, and why.
Recalling back to the discussion with the Alor the day prior— inquiring about some of your aptitudes and skill sets, tasking you with specific labor, and instructing Din the same. Being a guest in their home; shielding you from any dangers, being given a bed to sleep in and meals to eat— requesting that you earn your keep seems reasonable. But why did she ask— tell— Din to bring you here? When you first met, she did not deem you as a member of his clan, despite your… relationship with Din and your role as the other caretaker of the Child. Currently— the populace of this pseudokarst-hidden covert regard you as nothing but an outsider. An invader. A danger. A threat to their safety. An aruetii.
And yet, no matter their levels of distrust, you are here, by the Alor’s request.
This is not the first time you have had to deal with unpleasant people— those that make the day seem unending or unyielding in its discomfort, or work with ones who question your intelligence or ability at every turn. The only surefire way to ease the inquietude of your cohorts is to employ the same tactics that you always have— by simply doing your best. With Din, this came naturally. As a pragmatic man, he values and trusts both competency and integrity. Showcasing both traits allowed him to ease his habitual suspicion of strangers and eventually, after enough time, foster a fond friendship between you. Perhaps utilizing the same tactic can render a twin outcome.
It can’t hurt to try, at least for Din’s sake.
You understand, at least to some degree, what the concept of clan and community mean to him. After the tragedy of Nevarro, you watched him silently mourn his many losses, not just of the individuals, but the purpose he held in providing for his people, his sense of worth intrinsically tied to the survival and prosperity of his tribe. Whilst those who are gone will never return, this new collective of Mando’ade could present Din with an opportunity to release his residual guilt and shame, resuming his role as a primary generator of income, sponsoring many Foundlings and adults alike for many years to come. In essence, Din could finally come home.
Your place, for now it seems, is to make this arrangement with him, and them, work. To not instigate or incite any conflict, to not act out of turn or be discourteous. The way to the heart of your companion was through patience and compassion; and thus cooperation and communication is the way to solidarity with his comrades. Presenting yourself as an equal, as someone who has earned the respect and trust of one of their own can give them the freedom to do the same, without fear. And perhaps, one day, to care for you and about you just the same as Din does every day.
—
The workshop is lively— abuzz and boisterous.
The cavernous walls echo and amplify the clangs and thumps of the tools, muddling together with the chatter of the Mando’ade working together. In the mess of noise, you can distinctly make out their laughter, of all things— and with it, their camaraderie. At this moment, you can’t seem to recall a time in which you were that happy to be working on anything— undoubtedly, you’ve enjoyed some jobs and some people, but you can practically hear the smile in their voices hidden beneath their buy’ce.
For a group of ‘fearsome, ruthless warriors’, this isn’t what I expected.
The workshop appears to double as a port for the strange variety of ships they have stored, ones they must have collected over time, perhaps as more Mando’ade arrived at this covert. Anything from speeders to small transports. Most of them don’t appear to be in the best condition— and by the looks of others, not entirely operational either. At the far end of the shop is the hangar door, which presumably leads to the outside, where two Mandos are working on a small ship— a CS fighter. A small single-manned starfighter designed for combat, so customizable and versatile they’ve withstood the tests of time— most models still in existence are decades old.
Another pre-Empire ship, I’m sensing a trend.
The two Mandos underneath the ship pay no mind to you and Din as you approach, instead focusing on trying to remove a part from the underbelly of the starfighter. Upon closer inspection, you take note of their appearances. One Mando adorned in armor painted a faded mauve— old paint, chipped on the thighs and chest piece; and the other a light blue, with gray accents detailing the armor throughout. The two of you watch them work for a minute before Din speaks, getting their attention.
“Perhaps my friend could be of some aid.”
Their heads snap to you in unison, staring at you both for a moment. Mauve tilts her head, “Nice to see you too, Djarin.”
You give a slight chuckle at her response. Din can be the worst at introductions sometimes. You look back over to him, waiting for his own retort. Rather than greeting her, he nods his head once, and gestures towards the starfighter, “Me’bana? What’s wrong with it?”
Mauve pulls herself out from underneath the ship, wiping the oil on her gloves on the unarmored sections of her pants, and leaning herself against the wing.“Engine keeps overheating— we don’t have enough parts to replace every cooling unit, and I haven’t figured out which ones are failing or why,” she says casually, crossing her arms. She nods at you, “What do you think?”
You match her stance, crossing your arms, leaning your weight to one side, giving the question a moment of thought. “A ship as old as this? Check the ground conductors. The one’s on the Crest fry pretty often, especially with how manically he flies it.” In your peripherals you see Din turn his head to look at you, as if your jab at his pilotage genuinely offended him, but hearing a snicker from Mauve, he looks away.
Listening to your suggestion, Blue works to take apart the cooling unit they had already removed, working his way down towards the center. In less than a minute, he’s able to remove one of the culprits responsible for the malfunction— a very fried ground conductor. With a little, prideful smirk, you turn your head slightly to look back at Din, your eyes meeting his visor. He gives you a short nod, a silent approval of your correct assessment, his own unique way of telling you, Good work.
Blue rises from his back to a seated position, setting down the tool he has in hand. He refuses to look at you, to address you— to even acknowledge you, instead staring at Din. “Copikla bal mirdala— I see why the Alor let you keep her.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
If you’re dastard enough to undermine me, have the gall to do it in Basic, asshole. You want to conjure some sort of response to him, but ignoring his attempt at a crude remark may be the best course of action— to retaliate with your own insult will do nothing but escalate this dispute. As you have come to learn, anger is prone to rashness. And anger, whether it’s yours or Din’s— or both, is what he wants. And you won’t give him the satisfaction of having it.
“Ne shab'rud'kaysh, vod.”
Din, however, gives in to the bait. His voice irate— a warning, a threat. For a brief moment, there’s a passing worry about the possibility of Din igniting the flames of his gauntlet, a favorite weapon of his when he’s provoked. If anything, a knife fight feels more likely. The silence between the four of you somehow drowns out every other noise in the shop. The two of them continue to glare, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Your eyes watch back and forth between the two of them, waiting with baited breath. When Blue slowly raises both his hands in a mock surrender,“N'eparavu takisit, vod—“, and Din finally looks away from him, you know things have settled… for now.
An uncomfortable silence returns for a few moments, and Din is still not at ease. Mauve finally quips, “You saw it for yourself, go find another conductor.” She waves her hand, gesturing for Blue to leave. He rises, walking towards the other ships in the center of the shop— “You too, Djarin, find some.” She adds, casting Din away in the same manner she did with the other gotabor.
Din hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave your side— and looks to you, with a silent question. You nod at him, an unspoken It’s okay— with a sigh, he complies with her command. “Fine,” he swiftly turns around, leaving the two of you alone.
You watch them descend further into the shop, until they disappear from your sight. You’re left with the sounds of the distant chatter of the other Mando’ade, continuing to echo as it did when you first arrived.
Well, that could have gone worse.
Of the six Mando’ade you’ve met, three of them have not been hostile. It’s a start.
Continuing to stare off, Mauve speaks once more to get your attention. “Come help me check the rest of them.”
Her request brings you back to the present moment, turning around to see her lying underneath the ship again, hands deep in its underbelly, loosening some things and pulling others. You kneel down, until you’re able to lower yourself to the ground completely, lying next to her. She hands you the cooling units as she pulls them out, and the two of you work to take them apart, sitting beside one another.
“Jado doesn’t like you. But pay him no mind.” She states, matter-of-factly.
Yeah, he looks like a ‘Jado.’
This revelation of Jado’s discontempt is unsurprising— and not unexpected. “He doesn’t know me,” you say. Asking a question of why would be inane, you already know the answer.
“Well… none of us do. You’re an aruetii.” That moniker makes your stomach churn, but her lack of malice allows you to diminish the feeling of dejection quickly. “But that’s not inherently a bad thing. We’ll all get to know you soon enough.”
…What?
She continues, nonchalantly, “Djarin and the Alor trust you; so that’s all that matters. Aruetii or not.”
You continue to work, letting a short-lived silence settle between you, before she speaks again. “I’m Odona. Clan Drii. Unfortunately, Jado’s a part of it too. My little vod.”
You listen as her spiel drags on, leaning in to signal she has your attention, “We both usually work on the ships here, but he’s still pretty new at it— and I haven’t worked with many Pre-Imperial ships. When I heard that you were coming, after being on Djarin’s ancient me’sen?” She raises both her hands dramatically, “Briikase tuur. Happy day.”
Listening to this Mandalorian monologue feels like an oxymoron— given the usual disposition of your companion, and the general taciturn reputation that all Mandalorians seem to hold amongst the outsiders. Regardless, her comment and theatrical gestures make you grin.
“Don’t tell me you’re another ‘strong and silent’ type… Djarin’s sulking is enough for me.” That makes you laugh.
He does sulk a little, doesn’t he?
Smiling, you finally respond, “No. I think I’ve just grown accustomed to the sulking.”
Odona snorts. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you’ll get none of that from me. You’ll replace Jado for now, we’ll likely get more accomplished that way.” You’re not disappointed, the change of pace will be interesting— a new opportunity to learn a lot from. You feel a little prideful, knowing that she’s pleased with your knowledge and ability.
Before Odona can begin another monologue— and perhaps to disprove her claim of yours and Din’s shared hobby of sulking— you seize the chance to ask a question of your own. “I’m surprised by how many ships are here— but why are so many of them stripped out?”
Her hands stop, a pause in her tinkering as she ponders your enquiry. With a tilt of her head, she finally answers. “Whenever we get a new ship, it gets…” she hesitates for a moment, attempting to better articulate herself, searching for the precise word; “...triaged.”
Interesting connotation.
You suggest, “...As in, you decide whether to fix it, or scrap it for parts.”
“Exactly. We don’t have the resources to fix everything. It’s best to spend our time efficiently— focusing on the ones that will yield the greatest benefit in the long run.” The explanation is sound, yet Odona sees your underlying confusion still present. She asks you, “Why?”
Din would blow a fuse if someone tried to strip the Crest… again… Damn Jawas.
You point in the direction Din and Jado wandered towards, “I can see why he landed the Crest over a mile away from here.” Odona chuckles at the light joke, and you continue, “But— people are… okay with their ship getting scrapped?” On the surface, the concept almost sounds absurd. For Din, the Crest is another home. Everything meticulously ordered, from his weapons to his food stocks. Despite the frequent abuse his ship endures, he works to ensure its continued functionality, it’s almost a second layer of armor, one he cares about greatly.
“Well, no one has a personal ship— whenever any newcomers settle into the covert, any ships they once owned join the tribe’s fleet,” Odona explains.
Your brows furrow. They just give away their ship to the covert?
She elaborates more. “I guess it could be difficult for someone outside of…” she gestures to your surroundings, “...this… to understand. We share things— me’dinui— do what we can to contribute to each other, to our community.” She shrugs, watching you, gauging your reaction. “A ship doesn’t mean anything… But supporting your aliit? Your family?” She pauses again, her voice passionate, “...It’s everything. All we truly have is each other.”
In a galaxy so wrought with selfishness, greed, and ‘survival of the fittest’— the thought of anyone doing anything for a collective good is almost inconceivable. And yet, hearing the emotion of her voice, listening to her speak of the tenets you see Din adhere to so unfailingly, the concept of unity seems more tangible, more apodictic.
Setting down the tools you have in hand, you softly lament, “Sadly, I think I’ve become a little jaded to that idea...” you look at her, hoping to meet her eyes behind her visor, “...but I’m open to having my mind changed.”
You nod at her, and she does the same. In a familiar tone, Odona enounces, “Solus mhi oyacyi— this is the Way.”
—
Upon Din’s and Jado’s return with the necessary parts, Din extends a hand to you to help you rise from the ground.
As you stand, Odona quips “Making me do all the work with these?”
And with Din’s reply— “We have other matters to attend to;” you make your way towards the exit, giving Odona a wave, and she returns with a nod.
As you both close the heavy metal doors of the shop behind you, the hush of the cavern is jarring— the noise of the chaotic banter suddenly silenced. You’re only left with the sound of your blood whooshing in your head, and again, the persistent gelidity of the cave air forcing a chill up your spine. You exhale, removing your hands from the door, and slowly turn around to face Din. You stare at one another for a moment, before taking another breath.
“Odona said you sulk too much,” you say, your voice light and soft, to break the quiet tension without dissettling the quiescent chamber.
He huffs at your teasing remark and tilts his head, “...It seemed like the two of you were getting along?” He matches your volume, inquiring gingerly.
There’s worry in his voice, you recognize. Lingering feelings of contrition for the unnecessary antagonism Jado had given you. It must be strange for him, you contemplate, this role reversal of sorts. Outside these walls, he’s a living embodiment of minatory. In his day-to-day, he has to make an effort to appear benign to sociable strangers— whilst you, on the other hand, are as regular as any other citizen in the galaxy— posing passivity is the goal, a fine balance between being amicable but guarded. But now, in his enclave, you have to think and behave as he does when he interacts with everyone else in the galaxy— an intriguing juxtaposition.
You smile, “Yes, she’s interesting...she reminds me of Peli.” That’s not all he wants to know. It’s another tacit question, a chance to tell him how you feel without him having to ask. You take a step closer, letting your eyes meet his visor, “She also assured me that continuing to ignore her brother’s jibes is the best course of action.”
He sighs, and his shoulders drop. “I told him not to do it again.”
Din isn’t good with words. He’s curt, sometimes to the point of being tactless. On Sorgan, when faced with the obligation of informing the villagers of their predicament— Bad news, you can’t live here anymore— his delivery, at best, was uncouth. Nice bedside manner— Cara had told him, which earned a chuckle from you. He usually thrives more in one-on-one interactions; he can be amenable— kind, even. He ensures to give people thanks when necessary, listens to others without interruption; and attempts to be a calm presence, especially in times of turmoil.
Where he excels, however, are in his actions. Whether it’s the softer things— letting the Child grip his finger for comfort, a gentle hand to help you; or the more intense things— fighting his way through an army of Imperials to ensure the safety of his aliit, Din shows his care through his actions. He didn’t protect you from the enmity of his cohort because he thought you were incapable of vying against another Mando’ade. He wasn’t attempting to patronize you— but rather displaying his respect, to not stand idly by when someone is attempting to ostracize you.
His care is a reverent kind, one he conveys with both his body and his mind, a message given with nary a word spoken.
You stare into him once more, hoping to meet his eyes. You grin, and give a soft “Thank you.”
He doesn’t respond, he simply nods.
You gaze at one another for a few moments, before you nod your head to the side, gesturing to him to start walking; just as he did to you the day prior. Together, you walk beside each other through the various halls and passageways— working to build a mental map of the cave system— until you reach the medbay.
It’s a small room, one equipt to host only a few residents. Along the chamber walls are privacy shields— drawn to create different spaces for individual patients. Towards the back are tall shelves of med supplies— anything from syringes and needles, blood tubes, to disinfectants, gauze, and kits for intravenous fluids— supplies that would allow for basic blood tests, and treating minor to moderate wounds. Near the entrance sits another Mando, the baar’ur— their armor a deep green with teal sigils along the side of their buy’ce; holo pad in hand, seemingly deep in focus.
The sounds of your footsteps pull her attention. “Ah, su cuy'gar, Djarin, it’s been a while. How’s your ik’aad?”
He extends a hand for her to grasp, pulling her from the ground. “Fine. He’s with the other ade.”
She looks at you, “Jatne vod, I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
“I hope I can assist.” You give her your name, she replies with her own; Mavis.
She sighs, exasperated. She points to the first room, “One of the idiot cabure just showed up for the third time in two weeks, and…” She stops, and takes a deep breath, trying to ease her agitation, “... and I don’t want to deal with him again.” She holds the holopad out for you to take, “Can you handle this for me?”
Reading through her notes, you skim over some of the details.
G: He is in no apparent distress. He is alert and oriented
S: No open fracture or bony abnormality
E: Laceration to left shoulder, 15cm x 1 cm, simple, shallow
A simple laceration… “No sutures or staples?” You ask.
“No. Just use a tissue adhesive— I would have just made him do it himself; but he can’t reach it.” Her annoyance seeps through her voice again, “So, don’t waste any bacta on that,” she replies, pointedly. She mumbles under her breath, shaking her head, “Kad knows that utreekov will be back here next week.” She looks at Din, who gives her a sympathetic shrug.
She must be the only medic here.
You nod in understanding, “...I’ll take care of him, Mavis.” You turn around to walk towards the room, reading through the rest of her notes. Din and the baar’ur carry on in conversation as you approach the line of privacy shades.
Standing before the first room, you use the corner of the holo pad to tap upon the pole holding the curtain— a sound to alert the patient of your arrival, “Can I come in?” you ask.
A moment of silence greets you, before a deep voice answers “...Sure.”
Slowly drawing back the curtain just wide enough to allow you entry, you step in.
A familiar Mando sits before you. The idiot cabur.
The same idiot cabur you met yesterday— the very one that glowered into your karking soul like he craved nothing more than to break you in half. The sight of him makes your stomach sink— dread coursing through your bones, your nerves firing to prepare for his inevitable attack— skin electric, heart racing, blood cold.
You’re not safe.
You breathe, trying to will your voice to return once more. Taking a moment, your eyes scan up and down his form— assessing his position. He’s slouched, sitting atop the bed, one leg tucked underneath the other, a hand pressed against the injured shoulder. His pauldrons and chest piece sit beside him, his shirt half pulled over his form, revealing the nasty gash across his shoulder blade. Your eyes finally meet his visor— almost hoping to find his own beneath it, only to greet the same abyss that bore into you upon your first meeting.
Breathe. You nod at him, feigning nonchalance, “What happened?”
He observes you in return, tilting his head.
His gaze, though not predatory, reveals his intrigue. You’re enigmatic, oracular— he’s studying you, fixated on your features; searching for the apologues and adages that have sculpted your spirit— the flame of your psyche he yearns to succumb to. For a moment, he too is breathless, lost in the sea of your presence, desperate for a mast to secure himself to. He yields, finally looking away from you, to bring his attention to his injured shoulder.
He considers his response, and answers your question; almost timid, but with an obvious lightness to his voice. “I— uh… bravely protected the covert from an invader.”
You blink, and furrow your brows in confusion. You slowly shake your head at him. “No.” You reply, unconvinced. “Try again.”
He straightens his posture, looking at you once more. After another pause, he argues his second retelling of events. “Okay… again, I bravely rescued a Foundling lost in one of the Back Caves,” his voice less shy, but still chary.
His witticism begins to thaw the icy tension between you, reforming to liquescent diffidence— your pulse easing back to its restful tempo, the slight tremor of your hands gradually ceasing. You stride towards him, equanimous and assured, until you’re close enough to inspect his injury. A nasty gash, skin frayed along the edges, with smaller abrasions surrounding it— the beginnings of a bruise coloring the area. Dust and tiny shards of lava rock are settled on the skin throughout, peppering the wound. It looks painful.
Your eyes meet his hidden ones, desperate to conceal your amused grin he’s given you, “No,” you challenge, an insincere jest, “...last chance.”
He chortles, looking away again, almost bashful. “I fell,” he responds, resolute. “In the Back Caves… Lost my footing on an unsteady rock, and landed on a sharper one.” His coyish inflection shifting to one aflutter— in a moment of confidence, he returns his gaze to you, illuminated by your amused expression, having caught on to his jocular antics.
You nod, and try to hide your simper, “That sounds right.” You gesture to his shoulder, “May I?”
“Please.” He moves slowly, turning slightly, allowing you easier access to his shoulder.
With the wound in full view, you work to treat him.
It only takes but a few minutes to clean the area, the two of you spend that time in silence. He fidgets, not in a way that indicates he’s in pain— but rather that he’s unnerved, nervous, even mousy. This massive Mando’ad sits beside you with such tension in his form, as though he’s bracing for an impact; on the precipice of the inchoate attack— waiting for the aruetii to spit their vitriol, to exploit his vulnerable position and leave him more scathed than when he arrived.
With your hands gently pressing over his shoulder blade, sealing the adhesive in place; he releases a long held breath, the anticipated aggression absent. The tautness of his muscles gives way, highlighting their definition across his back as he decompresses. Stop looking. His heat radiating into your palms, a warmth you’ve been starved of since entering this frore catacomb, you’re reluctant to pull away— longing to linger in the intimacy of this untrodden amity that has just scarcely begun.
Slowly, you will yourself to retreat, discarding the soiled gauze and removing your disposable gloves. “Does the brave cabur have any other battle wounds?” You tease, disrupting the prolonged silence.
“No, ma’am,” his tone reveleaving the alacarious smirk hidden behind his buy’ce. As you turn away, he maneuvers his arm back into his shirt. He continues, “...thank you. Vor entye.”
You look back to him and nod, “Of course.”
Just as the silence settles again, and you attempt to leave, he recommences. “Before you go…” He waits for you to stop, “I was hoping to speak with you?” His inflection returns to one of timidness again; but he sits straighter, his legs wide and relaxed, his hands resting over his thighs. Even without his armor, his broad form fills the space around him. Don’t ogle. “We didn’t get to talk much yesterday.”
Difficult to chat when you think you’re about to die. “No, we didn’t.”
His voice turns gentle, almost placating, as if he heard your thought. “I’m Ikarus, a guardsman for the covert. The other cabur was Sabe.” He breathes, tilts his head, fidgets like he’s considering every word before he says it. “It’s our duty… to ensure the safety of everyone here. Including you.”
You’re frozen in place, refusing to cross the threshold to him again, despite his words wanting you to ease yourself closer.
“I—” the words are trapped in his throat, “I failed that duty yesterday. I failed you.”
He pauses, looking down to the floor, gathering his thoughts once more. “I’ve been here a long time. We’re very careful who we allow in here. Having a new Foundling and an outsider come in like this is unusual, to say the least.”
He looks to your face, meeting your eyes, “But this… inordinate circumstance… doesn’t give me the right to scare you. Being leered at by a giant, armed, faceless stranger should not have been your first impression of us… of me.”
His guilt bleeds into his speech, a sadness overcoming him. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, Ikarus envisions you, the terror in your eyes upon your first meeting, your protectiveness of the Child, of Djarin shielding you from his ravening presence, keeping you away from him. “Ni ceta, I’m sorry.”
You stare at him, speechless, in awe of his confession.
Ni ceta. I kneel.
A rare, groveling apology you had only heard once before— in an unfortunate situation with Din that left you both upset— he found the Basic phrase I’m sorry could not express his attrition wholly. He had explained the Mando’a words to you; their connotation, their significance. Kneeling, you learned, was one of the highest forms of respect to another Mando’ade— not only a display of humility, but reverence, obedience; and at certain times, even submission. Whilst his genuflect never came, his declaration was enough for you both to reconcile.
But the person before you is not Din Djarin.
Having a man like him brought to his knees would be a sight to behold.
In a moment of boldness, you slowly step towards him— soft on your feet— until you stand a mere meter apart, never looking away from where you presume his eyes to be. In a quiet, demulcent tone— barely above a whisper; before you can even think to reconsider your words, you ask him, “Are you going to kneel, Ikarus?”
Thence, he is in free fall. Your emollient voice and temerarious inquiry luring him into the vast unknown of you— succumbing to the pull of your orbit, the fire of your spirit. In an instant, his body relaxes— his eyes bore into yours, as he slowly rises from the medical bed to his full height, before bending the knee to kneel below you. After a moment, he extends his hand for you to grasp. Whence his hand grips yours, he answers your question in kind; “Ni ven’ceta par gar ratiin.”
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Hello, may I request a one-shot of the Mandalorian x Reader who somehow gets frozen in Carbonite during a fight, then wakes up blind with the Carbonite sickness? I'm a sucker for that kind of hurt/comfort stuff :)
Listen, I lost my creative juices halfway through this, and didn’t get them back for quite a while… 😬 So I’m sorry that this has taken so long, or if it’s not really all that good, but I’m kind of happy to just throw it into the abyss and let you guys have it 😂😂
Thanks @deceiverofgodss for suffering through this with me, ily 💛
Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader
Word Count: 3.0k
Warnings: hurt/comfort 💛, carbonite sickness, temporary blindness, brief mention of canon-level violence, sweet loving soft amazing Din, the helmet comes off 👀, Grogu is heartbreakingly adorable, I think that’s it?
At first, all you could feel was cold. Biting and endless, you couldn’t decipher any other feeling than the all-consuming cold seeping from your bones.
Then there was a warmth… was it warm? It was certainly warmer than the hell you’d been in, that had to count for something. A firm grip held you close, cradling you into their chest as you laid sprawled against their lap on the ground. As the feeling in your body gradually came back – or maybe your brain was just starting to thaw out – you recognized the warmer surface that was pressed against you in so many places.
Beskar.
The next thing to hit you was the smell of leather and fire, a smell you were no stranger to. The smoke that rose off of weapons you handled in your day-to-day life, and the buttery smoothness of well-worn leather gloves that were smoothing over your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the familiar scent. Gloves you’d felt caress your skin countless times before.
It started quiet, the muffled sounds of the world around you. A deep voice was speaking, accompanied by soft footsteps making quiet clangs against the metal flooring beneath you. How many people were here? Where were you?
You felt your brows furrowing as you tried to focus on the sounds filtering through your ears, and you gave an experimental tilt of your head to see what kind of motion you could pull off. It was very slight, but it was movement. It was probably only noticeable to whoever was holding you if they were paying very close attention.
“Mesh’la? Can you hear me?” You made out, the voice above you laced with concern and panic.
Din.
You opened your eyes slowly to let whatever light beyond your eyelids filter in slowly, allowing your body to take the recovery process one step at a time.
But the light never came.
Maybe your eyes weren’t open?
“I told you she’d be alright, Djarin,” you heard in a thick accent from a few steps away. “She’s a fighter.” That gruff voice was Boba’s for sure, but you still had no way of confirming what you were hearing. Were your eyes just… adjusting?
“Make yourself useful and figure out how to get more light in here, she can’t see anything,” Fennec’s unmistakeable lilt snarked, and with an amused grunt fading away with matching footsteps, you knew she’d thrown her jab at Boba. Yes, more light. That’s all you needed, everything was going to be alright.
“Talk to me, how do you feel?” Din said above you, and you realized you hadn’t acknowledged him in your confusion. You made an effort to use your vocal cords, a few experimental groans coming out before you could manage any words.
“I feel… tired.” You heard a quiet, shaky laugh come out from under Din’s helmet, and it didn’t take much longer before you felt the familiar Beskar of his helmet on your forehead. You steadily lifted one of your arms to reach for him, your body still coming back to temperature, and he met you halfway. If your eyes weren’t already closed, they were now as you savored the feeling of his hand in yours, how irrationally warm it made you feel to have Din wrapped so tightly around you.
You heard Fett’s distant sound of triumph and a sputtering of electrical devices in the room around you. When Din slowly lifted his helmet, you attempted to open your eyes one more time.
“There she is,” Fennec sighed, and your stomach flipped. “How’s the light, is that a little bit better?” She asked gently.
You still couldn’t see anything.
“Mesh’la… what’s wrong?” Din’s voice was quiet, smooth. Like he was trying to keep himself calm in order to comfort you. “Hey, look at me, I’m right here.” Your heart jumped to your throat, your head beginning to spin when you thought about how impossible such a simple task sounded when all you could see was black.
“I… I can’t,” you whispered, unable to stop the quiver as you finished speaking, the panic starting to set in. You didn’t know where you were trying to go but your body went into overdrive, legs scrambling for some kind of leverage to sit yourself up. Before you could go far, Din’s hand squeezed yours a little tighter, the arm wrapped around you firm as he pulled you into a sitting position while keeping you curled up against his chest.
“You can’t what?” Din’s voice was too calm, it was unsettling. Usually knowing that he was able to keep his calm in a less-than-ideal situation would be comforting to you, encouraging you to do so yourself and realize that you were okay. But it had never been this bad before. He wasn’t going through what you were. It was easy for him to find his calm, he could still see.
“The bounty… what happened? What did he do to me?” You settled for, working yourself up as your brain reeled for an answer, an explanation, any morsel of a solution.
“Easy princess,” Boba said from across the room. “Take it one step at a time, comin’ outta Carbonite isn’t as easy as taking a clam from a Gungan.”
Carbonite… you could vaguely piece together a memory of fighting. Some slimy bounty you and Din had picked up as a side job on your way to Tatooine to visit with your friends in Mos Espa. What was supposed to be a standard grab-and-go mission had turned complicated fast.
“You held your own,” Din’s voice said above you, no doubt watching you try to remember. “He caught us by surprise and managed to kick you back into a carbonite freezer. There was no way you could’ve seen him coming.”
As he said it, the memories came back to you. Stalking around a dark warehouse beside your Mandalorian, lights scanning for any sign of movement. You’d heard a clang come from beside you, and before you could alert your partner that you were going to check it out, you’d been knocked against a metal container. You were able to process hissing sounds as your head stopped spinning, and as you shouted back out to Din, you watched him tearing to get to you before everything went cold.
“How… how long was I in there?” you tried quietly.
“A few hours at the most,” Fennec answered. “Mando reached out to us pretty quickly, and as Daimyo of Mos Espa, getting clearance wasn’t an issue. When we got there, Djarin was rooted to the spot next to you with a dead Trandoshan not too far off.”
“We thought it’d be best if we defrosted you here at the palace,” Boba chimed in. “Give you time to acclimate without rushing you outta there.” Then there was a familiar gurgle, small noises that went directly to your heart. “And give the little one a chance to run around.”
“But he’s been too worried about you to go anywhere,” Din reasoned softly. It was hard to tell if your eyes were still open, but you could feel the tears coming nonetheless at the thought of Grogu waiting patiently beside you.
“Can I..” You wanted to ask if you could see him, but that seemed like a redundant question. “Where is he?” You heard the hesitant thump of Boba’s boots against the metal floor as he approached you.
“Hold out your hands, mesh’la,” Din urged, releasing your hand while keeping you close. You did as he said, and before you could ask why, you felt a familiar weight being set in your arms.
There were little hands on your cheeks and Grogu’s familiar gurgle of attempted words that were usually matched with his little toothy grin… What little restraint you had was shattered, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, and start to roll down your cheeks where they collided with your foundling’s fingers. Din pulled you closer as you cried, and you curled into him with Grogu in tow.
“Why can’t I see, Din?” you whispered, and you heard how broken your voice sounded. It at least matched the way you felt; broken.
“Carbonite takes its toll,” Boba started, and you felt Din’s body make a small, quick movement. You could only guess that he’d snapped his head up at the daimyo’s dramatic choice of words. “I just mean that there are usually side effects… but I’ve seen people come outta carbonite after weeks and turn out just fine.”
“So… how long will it take me to get my vision back?” you choked, trying to put a stop to the stream of emotions that continued falling as you listened around you. Din’s leather-clad hands rubbing soothing patterns into your back was definitely helping on that front. “If I get it back.”
“Don’t say that,” your Mandalorian’s firm voice countered. “You weren’t in there long. Your body will recover.”
“He’s right,” Fennec piped up. Not being able to see where your party stood in the room was proving to be a strange sensation, figuring out where the speaker was in the room proving to be its own mental sport. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell when it will wear off. Carbonite affects everyone differently, so we could be waiting a few hours, a few days, a few weeks... It depends on how your body reacts.”
There was a heavy silence in the room as Fennec’s words settled, forcing you to come to terms with the reality of the situation, and how little you could plan around it.
Din, surprisingly, was the first to break the silence.
“I’ll be here by your side each step of the way,” he started, his serious tone reassuring, backing up the weight of his promise.
Unsurprisingly, Din kept his word.
In the days that followed, Din was with you every moment possible. He was there to help you up in the mornings, tender touches and slow movements in the private quarters your clan of three took up in the palace. His hands rarely left you as he helped you maneuver around the space, and had endless amounts of patience as you worked together to get through the day.
Grogu definitely took a little bit to adjust. He was used to you picking him up and smothering him in affection too many times throughout the day to count. Now you often felt him at your feet, making soft sounds as he asked for you to lift him up. But when he started to understand that you couldn’t see him, his response broke your heart.
Each morning Din would put Grogu in your arms, and without fail, those little hands would find your cheeks right before you would feel a strange sensation course through your body… He was trying to use his powers to heal you, much like you had seen him do with Din in the past. You wouldn’t let him do it for so long that he would tire himself out, but the two of you entertained his efforts – at the very least to make him feel better, but also to see if it would even work.
In staying by your side, Din took to showering with you, too. Trying to convince him you could handle it was followed immediately by fumbling with the soaps until they clattered to the floor, and Din was knocking on the fresher door in moments. It was kind of amusing, at first, when he would step in behind you and you could hear the clang of the water against his helmet.
Amidst the confusion and the disorientation of your lack of sight, the silver lining had been the day Din fully realized how much he could get away with when you couldn’t see him. Your entire relationship you kept your eyes shut tight – or left the room altogether – when Din removed his helmet, honoring his creed. But now he could go without it whenever he so chose… as long as it was in the confines of your room.
Waking up to his soft kisses had been a warm welcome, one that was met with his enthusiastic affection scattered across your face. “We should do this more often,” he sighed, making you laugh against him as he kissed your cheek, the scratch of his facial fair tickling your skin.
You grew accustomed to roaming your hands around his body so you could navigate to his soft curls, combing through his hair and massaging his scalp with your nails. You mapped the planes of his face with your lips, traced his pouted ones with your fingertips… and by the Maker, you were basking in the sound of his voice without the vocoder filtering it through his helmet. You could hear his smile when he spoke, could hear even the smallest huff of amusement his helmet usually kept from being audible, and his comforting tone wrapped you in a warmth you wanted to stay in forever.
…
“Mesh’la,” you heard as you slowly came into consciousness. You gave Din a sleepy smile as he peppered kisses over your cheeks, the scratch of his mustache tickling your skin. “Someone’s here to see you early this morning,” he whispered, and you felt his side of the bed shift as he sat up. You kept your eyes closed through the whole process, like you did every morning, wanting to soak up the softness of your little family for just a little bit longer before facing the disappointment of not being able to see anything.
In the last week, there was… some improvement. You knew you should be grateful for any steps forward your condition was taking, even if they were slim, but after the first few days, it just became exhausting. You could make out the vague shapes of the figures around you, and you could tell the difference between light and dark, but that was about it. Din had been ecstatic when you reached out for him that first morning, his excitement growing each time you turned towards him as he leaned in to give you a kiss.
You just wanted to see again.
When Din’s weight returned to the bed – your eyes still closed – he brought with him a familiar bundle that was set directly on your stomach. Grogu didn’t wait for your hands to find him before he was crawling clumsily up your body, and you shared in Din's laughter as you each gave him a hand to help him to his destination.
“Well good morning to you too, little one,” you smiled, pleasantly surprised by your foundling’s newfound eagerness to get started with the day. “You must be hungry if you’re wanting to get this over with so quickly.” There was only a babble in response as he situated himself on your chest, and you could just imagine him reaching his little hands out to make it to your cheeks without losing his balance.
Din grunted as he shifted, this time getting up off of the bed, no doubt to go tend to make Grogu something to eat before it got past the point of no return. And yet, when his little hands finally reached you, there was no urgency. With your eyes still closed, you focused closely on the feeling that began spreading through your body, breathing deeply when the familiar feeling of weightlessness his powers brought you relaxed your muscles.
The soft clanking of dishes from the living area of your room in the palace brought you back to the present, which meant that it was time to start moving through your day, and giving Grogu a chance to rest after using his powers once again. You opened your eyes as you sat up, hoisting Grogu up with you and returning the little smile that spread across his cheeks…
His smile. You could see it.
You could see.
“Hi baby,” you whispered, your throat suddenly feeling very constricted as you took in the sight of your foundling. His big, dark eyes bore into you as his ears perked up at the attention he hadn’t seen from you in so long. He gurgled happily as he used his grip on your cheeks to encourage you to lean forward, pressing his little forehead against yours.
You heard Din’s broken voice say your name, speaking softly as if he was scared to break whatever trance he was in. Without thinking, you lifted your head from Grogu’s and turned to look in his direction, and for a moment you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.
Din stood frozen in place when he met your gaze, his warm brown eyes speaking a thousand words that would never pass his lips. His dark curls that you had felt so many times sat in a mess atop his head, matching the scruff and facial hair that decorated his golden skin. The prominent nose you had felt was more handsome than you could have ever imagined, the pouty pink lips you had traced time and time again as inviting as ever.
You had imagined this moment a thousand times, thought of every possible situation or turn of events that might ever lead to seeing your Mandalorian without his helmet. Your worst fear was that it would be an accident – like it was now – and that his expression turning into disappointment, anger, or something worse that would mean he wanted nothing more to do with you.
But the face looking back at you had nothing but anticipation and adoration written across his striking features.
“Mesh’la…” you whispered, trying the Mando’a endearment on your tongue. The corners of his lips began to turn up in a tentative smile, and the sight you had just gotten back started to blur with the water flooding your eyes. “Beautiful… Din, you’re beautiful,” you sobbed. The last thing you saw was Din rushing to your side, quick to wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head as you closed your eyes once more, letting the happy tears flow freely across your cheeks.
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Chapter 2 of Blue is For Ben series | Masterlist | Ch. 1
Word count: 6.0k
Summary: Bucky wants to ask you out on a real first date, but what does that look like when you don’t have anyone to watch your son?
Warnings: mild language, mentions of previous assholes reader has dated, more kide related media and games, I think that’s all it’s pretty cute
AN: Okay… I know this took forever to get out, but I started writing one idea that takes place after this and had a hard time transitioning, so I started over and wrote this chapter instead 😂 If you’re waiting for something a little spicier, stay tuned, I promise it’s coming 😉 Thanks @deceiverofgodss for helping me through this, ily 💙
“NO! It’s gonna fall!” Your son screeched from the living room. And as you continued to chop up your taco meat in the pan, you heard a heavy thump on the ground and an excited giggle from the four-year-old.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that there was a hundred-year difference between the two of them. Ben’s developing motor skills and small size gave him a slight disadvantage as he played his favorite Bluey game, and Bucky was far too invested in how high he could get their high score. Keepy Uppy experts, they called themselves, smacking a balloon this way and that trying to keep it off of the floor.
You weren’t sure your downstairs neighbors would be as excited about it as they were. But it was beyond adorable, and you didn’t have the heart to make them stop.
It hadn’t taken long for Bucky Barnes to find a place for himself in your lives, and it had been far easier to get him through your door since that first night he came over for dinner. It started with dinners here and there until he was almost expected at the table each night. Ben wanting to show off his school projects had turned into after-school play dates, which then became a demanding four-year-old and a super soldier on call, ready to be at your doorstep in a moment's notice.
One of those first few afternoons you had half a mind to apologize, to tell him he was allowed to tell Ben ‘no’ and do his own thing. But he walked in with a sweet smile and soft touches, greeting Ben with equal enthusiasm. Before you could even get it out, Bucky made sure you knew that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
When it was just the two of you, Ben would often tell you that Bucky was his best friend. And after you put him to bed, you felt like a schoolgirl with a crush when Bucky’s nightly text messages came in. “Bedtime went okay?” translated to it’s my turn to talk to you, which never failed to bring a giddy smile to your face.
“MAMA!” You snapped your head up in Ben’s direction, seeing the blue balloon floating across the counter that divided your kitchen and your living room. Glancing at Bucky, he gave you a wink as his eyes danced between you and the balloon.
With both boys looking at you with anticipation, how could you deny them?
Resting your spatula against the pan, you scurried to the counter and got up on your toes, leaning across it to smack the balloon back into the living room where Ben bounced over to it. You watched them for a few moments, smiling to yourself as you watched the brick wall of a man play so sweetly with Ben, complete with goofy faces and exaggerated movements just to make him laugh.
That shouldn’t have been all it took to make you absolutely head over heels for him. And yet you had to physically make yourself look away and focus on cooking dinner to avoid watching him with heart eyes. Logically, watching a man play well with your four-year-old shouldn’t have been the root of your affections… but it was kind of hard for it to be anything else when Ben was always with you.
“Hey, we kept it up twenty-four times, that’s pretty good!” Bucky reasoned from the living room, alerting you to the fact that their game of Keepy Uppy had ended.
“Let’s do it again! We’ll really beat the high score this time,” Ben said enthusiastically, and Bucky gave a deep chuckle.
“How about you start this round without me? See how far you can get by yourself, okay? I’ll be back in a sec,” he reasoned, leaving the four-year-old to count to himself.
Before you could process that he was coming to see you, one of Bucky’s large hands smoothed over the middle of your back. Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, and you tried to cover it up by turning to meet his gaze, finding him leaning against the counter beside you with a cocked brow.
“Hey sugar, come here often?” He teased, but it still brought a sheepish smile to your face as his deep voice lilted in all the right places.
“Only every day of my life,” you retorted, a boyish grin appearing on his face.
“Can I help you with anything?” He asked gently.
“I mean… you could stir the beans if you want. I thought you were playing with Ben?”
“And now I’m talking to you,” he winked at you, removing his hand from your back so he could tend to the other pot simmering on the stove. You tried to ignore how much you missed the feeling. “He’ll be fine, I’ll go back out there in a few minutes.”
“Mmm, okay… so what do you want?” You shot playfully, and he gave you a confused look. “I’m smarter than that, James. You have a question you want me to answer.” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
“I- well, not because I don’t want to spend time with you,” he quickly defended himself, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “It’s- c’mon, we were playing keepy uppy, you can’t expect me to turn that down,” he argued, now laughing with you.
“But you do have a question for me?” He nodded in defeat.
“I was just wondering… Do you have someone you trust to watch Ben?”
Oh.
That question.
The one that, with men you had entertained in the past, had meant they were done playing family man, that they wanted Ben to be someone else’s problem so they could get you alone. It was always pitched to you like it was some kind of fantasy of yours, like they were doing you this big favor by giving you a reason not to be Mom. As if that was ever something you wanted to escape.
It usually meant the end of whatever short-lived flirtationship you had allowed. They would show their true colors, turning into ugly versions of themselves when denied what they were really after. Your walls would go back up, you would keep your baby close to your chest, and you would never hear from them again.
But Bucky was nothing like any of those men. He couldn’t be farther from them.
“I uh… No, I don’t,” you started shyly, not very good at hiding how his question had caught you off guard. But when you watched his expression shift, it was soft, and there was no leap to a defense. He was different. “I’ve been working from home since Ben was born, and I only went back to the office because he started going to school. Other than friends here and there…” You shrugged and gave a quiet shake of your head. “Why do you ask?”
“Well…” he started, taking a deep breath before he looked back at you, still effortlessly reducing you to a puddle with one look despite his evident nerves. “I was thinking of asking you out on a date.”
It was annoying what that one sentence did to you.
“Figured I’d do this right, take you out to dinner and make it a real first date. Just for one night.”
Just for one night… you’d never heard that one before.
“I can.” What were you saying? “I can find someone. Just for a few hours, right? I’m sure there are a few sitters in the building. I can make it work.”
What were you saying?
It burned coming up out of your throat. Sure, Ben was four years old, he was plenty old enough to be left under someone else’s supervision. But he was all you had. And it’s not like you required much from a potential sitter, keeping him safe and happy was all you really cared about. But it was so hard to let go of him, and far easier to just reschedule things for another time. Now you were agreeing to hand your baby away because a pair of pretty blue eyes said he wanted to treat you to a night out.
And you wanted it.
Before you could take it back, even before the rush of mom guilt started to flood in, Bucky was already swooping in to rescue you from your spiraling thoughts.
“Hang on, don’t go pawning him off on someone you don’t trust, you’re gonna stress me out,” he assured you, his hands coming up to rub the sides of your arms soothingly, his face completely serious. “I just wanted to know if you already had someone, not for you to go find one.”
The relief that flooded your body was more satisfying than you could have ever imagined. And somehow there was still room to be disappointed in what you lost. The idea of sitting at a table in a nice restaurant and being able to talk, really talk without the fear of what little ears could hear…
With Bucky, it sounded wonderful.
“I still want to take you out on a date,” he told you, bringing you out of your thoughts as if he could read them. You smiled sheepishly and shook your head.
“And how do you think that’s gonna work, Buck?” You laughed, amused by the image of you and Bucky in a fancy dining room joined by a booster seat and a plate of chicken nuggets. “Just give me a little time to conduct interviews like a neurotic mom, I’ll find someone he’ll be okay with.”
“Nah, we’ll take him with us,” He grinned, patting your arms before he pushed off of the counter to peek out into the living room. “Psst…. Ben… c’mere.” You watched in intrigue as your son quickly abandoned the balloon he was tossing into the air to toddle over to the super soldier, launching himself into Bucky’s arms as the tall man kneeled down.
“What do you think about me taking you and your mom to the park on Saturday?” he offered, and your son immediately lit up.
“Is today Saturday?” You and Bucky shared a look.
“No buddy, today is Thursday. Saturday is on the weekend when you don’t go to school.” Ben contemplated this for a moment before he replied.
“Why?” He asked, his arms still wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. You couldn’t help but giggle, watching Bucky try not to laugh as he recalibrated, Ben’s responses clearly not having matched the idea in his head.
“Well… so we can all spend some time together. We’ll go get hot dogs, and I’ll take you guys to the park. And maybe I’ll treat you guys to…” Bucky hesitated, taking a quick glance at you as he considered his next words. “Maybe I’ll get us a treat afterward. How’s that sound?”
“Good!” Ben said enthusiastically, already starting to climb around the super soldier like a jungle gym. “Bucky?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can tomorrow be Saturday?” Bucky’s face softened as he helped Ben climb up around his back. Seeing Ben so excited, you couldn’t help your own heart melting a little bit. You could compromise.
“Ben, honey,” you started, and Ben’s face appeared under Bucky’s bicep as he hung off of the outstretched vibranium arm like a monkey. “Why don’t you ask Bucky if he wants to go tomorrow after school?”
You watched him struggle to climb around Bucky’s arm, the human playground as patient as ever while he watched – and helped – in amusement. And he scrunched his nose when Ben put his mouth to Bucky’s ear, much better at keeping himself from flinching away from Ben’s ticklish whispers than you were.
And then Bucky effortlessly grabbed the child and twisted him around, giggling the whole way, to whisper his response in Ben’s ear. When he backed away, the two boys shared a look, nodding in agreement. Thick as thieves… Bucky nodded his head towards you, getting Ben to finally loop you into the plan.
“Bucky sayed yes! He sayed it’s a date,” he relayed excitedly, and then did his best to wink with only one of his eyes. He almost had it, too.
“Then tomorrow it is,” you said sweetly, and this time Bucky was the one shooting you a wink as he got up from his knees.
“Keepy Uppy! Come on, let’s go!” Ben pleaded, no longer interested in dragging on these grown-up details, and pulling on Bucky’s hand with all his strength. Which, of course, didn’t make a difference.
“Hold on, kiddo, let me finish talking to your Mama,” he laughed, and Ben groaned as he returned to the living room to play by himself. You kept yourself propped up against the counter as Bucky approached you, confident that your weakened knees needed another moment to be able to support you.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you into anything,” you smiled, and he shook his head.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for an embarrassingly long amount of time, tomorrow is perfect” he offered, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “I’m just glad he’s so excited.”
“Me too,” you sighed, glancing back out into the living room to see your son laid out on the edge of the couch as he tossed his balloon into the air. “So, what treat did you change your mind about?” You asked with a grin.
“It wasn’t so much that I changed my mind? I just didn’t think promising him ice cream ahead of time would end up working in our favor,” he explained with an exasperated expression, pulling a belly laugh out of you.
He was different.
…
“Alright I’ve got one,” Bucky offered from his spot on the wooden bench next to you, the two of you sitting on the perimeter of the park taking turns scooping bites from the rest of Ben’s cup of chocolate ice cream, which he’d ditched to play cafe with the other children and bring you the occasional fake ice cream.
“Oh this should be good,” you teased, handing him the small cup as you finished your bite. After having gotten hot dogs and walked around the city, you had already crossed off the usual first date topics and found yourselves in this sort of game of twenty questions. The main difference is that you were trying to take advantage of your time without little ears. Well, not being in an enclosed space with little ears.
“What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?” he asked, and you contemplated your answer as you watched him scoop out his last bite – he could finish it off in one spoonful easily, but he only took half before he handed it back to you.
“Okay, this one wasn’t exactly terrible, but just weird,” you started, and Bucky chuckled as you finished off the sweet treat and prepared to tell the story. “This guy took me out to eat at a hole-in-the-wall pizza place. Literally, it was just a window on the side of the tiniest building I’ve ever seen.
“We end up sitting to eat it in a park close by, and I start to think that the date can finally start. But then I look over and see him picking all his toppings off.” Bucky scrunched his nose, making you laugh as you kept explaining. “After he’d polished those off, he started peeling the cheese off too, just eating it in chunks.”
“And then he just ate the whole soggy crust by itself?” he asked incredulously. When you nodded, he closed his eyes and dropped his head into one of his hands, rubbing his face in what could only be described as despair.
“I lasted about halfway through the crust before I threw etiquette out the window, and asked him what the hell he was doing to that poor piece of pizza. He just laughed and told me he’d been eating it that way since he was a kid.”
“Please tell me you got up and left immediately,” he groaned, pulling a deep belly laugh from you as you watched him struggle to process your story.
You could have said that. That would be the normal thing to answer with, especially when talking about a different man on a first date.
“That uh… that was actually Ben’s dad.”
Or just put it all out there. That’s… that’s what you did. Way to make it awkward.
You weren’t sure what kind of response you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for him to look at you with his brows raised as if he’d just come to some profound discovery rather than irritation, or even surprise.
“So that’s why Ben eats pizza like that…”
“Like a weirdo? Apparently,” you finished, and Bucky chuckled to himself as he looked back out at the playground to check on the boy in question, and you admired his features as he did. “He’s never met that man in his life, but I guess pizza preferences are genetic. He just came out of the womb ready to confuse anyone who has to see him tear into a pepperoni pizza.”
“I’ve told you I’m from Brooklyn, right? New York?” He piped up, and you scrunched your face up in sympathy.
“I’m so sorry,” you laughed, an amused grin dancing on his face. “It probably drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”
“A little bit of me dies inside each time I watch him do it,” he deadpanned, only encouraging more of your laughter. “You should let me teach him how to eat it like a New Yorker.”
“Oh yeah? And which way is that?”
“You fold it! Down at the crust, that way you can eat it with one hand and keep walking,” he explained very passionately. Part of you wondered if he was exaggerating a little bit – his New York was a few decades behind the trends – but that was exactly how you’d seen him manhandle his slices last week.
“His hands are too small for that!” You reminded him, giggling when he looked offended.
“So we teach him now. Fix it before it’s too late, and then when he’s older we won’t have to worry about him eating pizza like a psychopath.”
The second the words left his lips, you felt realization hit him.
There was still an amused grin on his face, but the implication behind his words still hung in the air, and you could tell he was weighing his options as he watched your face for any trace of a response to how many times he had said we, not to mention talk of still being around when Ben was a little older.
“I- sorry, I know I just broke a lot of first date rules in a row,” he settled on, attempting to be humorous, so you played along.
“Well, you fed my kid hot dogs and ice cream, and didn’t bat an eye when I brought up the baby daddy, so I think we can throw those rules out the window.” Bucky’s nose scrunched up as he let out a boyish giggle, his cheeks turning pink at your reminder, and you hoped that he couldn’t hear the way your heart sped up because of it.
“Yeah? Just how many of those rules are we throwing out?” He asked smoothly, raising an eyebrow at you as he adjusted his spot on the bench, ending up just a little bit closer to you.
“That depends on what you’re planning,” you retorted, unable to stop from giggling when he gave you a smug expression.
Your innocent laughter was quick to fade when his tongue peeked out to lick his lips in a way that should not have had as much of an effect on you as it did, finding his baby blues darting down to your lips before returning your gaze.
“You’ve got something, right here…” he husked, the arm that had been resting against the back of the park bench moving slyly to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lips.
“Hmmm really? Did I get ice cream on my face?” you managed as his face inched closer to yours, scanning your expression for any sign of rebuttal. Lucky for him, you were so giddy with anticipation that you may as well have had a green light on your forehead.
“Mhm, you did,” he chuckled deeply, the gravel of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me get that for you…”
“How kind of you,” you whispered, earning you a bright smile as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as you anticipated his next move.
The moment Bucky’s lips met yours, you could have been easily convinced that the world around you had fallen away. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d been kissed like this in the last four years, but none of them even stood close.
It was pure. Fucking. Bliss.
His mouth molded onto yours like a puzzle piece, filling something inside of you that you hadn’t realized was empty, curing some secret ache in your soul. The hand cupping your cheek slipped to the back of your neck to hold you just that much closer, angling his face to kiss you again, keeping you close to him. He touched you as if you were a delicate thing to be treasured while he kissed you like you were the very thing keeping him alive.
Bucky parted the kiss and held his lips away from yours by mere centimeters, an immediate wave of disappointment washing over you, wanting nothing more than for him to do it again. And again. And again.
“What do you think, is this one of those rules we can ignore?” he murmured, a playful grin on his face as you caught your breath.
“I think I’ll let it slide,” you teased right back, delighted by the huff of amusement you got from the muscular man in front of you, more than eager to let him lean back in to keep kissing you…
“MAMA!”
Honestly, you should have seen it coming.
Bucky’s lips had only just touched yours when Ben called for you from across the playground, and you could feel the super-soldier's wide grin spreading across his face as you scrunched your nose.
You put on your best attentive mother face as you turned to look at your son, finding him attempting to run up to you through the wood chips of the playground, his eyes trained on the handful of leaves in his hands.
“Yes baby?” you asked as he arrived right at your feet, finally looking up at you and Bucky.
“I buyed you more ice cream!” Ben shoved his cupped hands up to your chin, waiting expectantly for you to relieve him of his delivery.
“That was very sweet of you, Ben, thank you,” you sighed, doing your very best to keep the exasperation from your voice – Bucky’s chuckle telling you that you may not have succeeded – as you pretended to nibble on the leaves you’d been gifted. This was probably the fourth time you’d gone through his game of ice cream delivery, your date having received the other three.
When you emptied his “bowl” by tossing his leaves to the side, just as you and Bucky had alternated doing for the past six handfuls, you assumed he would return back to the game of cafe so his new friends could “wash the dishes.” That was the pattern, that’s how the game was supposed to go.
But if being a mom had taught you anything, it was that any assumption about your son’s next move would prove to be wrong.
So of course, possibly the only time where you might have wanted him to keep playing his game and leave you to find your own entertainment on the park bench, he patted his hands on his pants and began climbing into your lap. Pushing limbs to the side, almost kicking Bucky in the abdomen, actually headbutting you in the abdomen… the whole nine yards.
“What uh… what are you doin, bud?” you asked once he’d settled himself in the pocket of your crossed legs, grabbing for your arms as he wrapped them around him.
“I jus’ wanted to snuggle you,” he shrugged, wiggling impossibly closer to you as he looked back out at the playground, perfectly content to watch the other children play as he sat with the two of you. You rolled your eyes for only Bucky to see, getting another laugh out of him as you squeezed your son tight.
“Thank you, sweetheart, you know I love your cuddles,” you cooed, pressing a kiss into his soft hair. “You have awesome timing, did you know that? The absolute best.” Ben hummed in agreement to your not-so-subtle sarcasm, happy as could be while Bucky continued laughing.
While you definitely would have enjoyed getting to kiss him just a little bit longer, getting cuddled by your son while Bucky tucked in close and wrapped an arm around your shoulders was a very close second.
…
You shut the door to Ben’s room gently behind you, tip-toeing out into the living room where Bucky was waiting for you, leaning up against the arm of the couch with his hands resting gently in his lap. He raised his brows expectantly, silently asking how it went.
You waved a hand across your face. “He’s out,” you whispered, making Bucky smile.
“I thought he would be,” he said softly, nodding slowly. “I could tell he was so tired there at the end, he was getting goofy.” You laughed as you remembered Ben’s antics, climbing all over Bucky as he sat on the couch, doing anything he could to fight sleep, and laughing at just about anything that the super-soldier said to him whether it was meant to be comical or not.
“You wore him out!” you reminded, moving closer to him as you recounted the evening. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that boy run as fast as when you joined the kids’ game of chase.” He giggled as you stepped into the space between his legs, his hands instinctively lifting off of his lap to rest comfortably on your hips. “Earned yourself a couple points with the moms out there tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked sweetly, tilting his head in intrigue as you ran your hands up and down his muscular arms. Very muscular arms… You bit your lips and nodded to answer, earning a deep hum. “Did it earn me any points with Ben’s mom?”
Your eyes found the chain of his dog tags hanging around his neck, tucked into the soft sweater that stretched over his chest. Buying yourself time to find the right words to answer his flirtatious question, you trailed your hands up his shoulders until they found the beaded chain. Slowly you pulled them out and kept them hooked in two of your fingers, the chain taught against his neck as you finally met his gaze.
The blue of his eyes was slowly being overtaken by his pupils as he watched you. Not completely, but just enough to be noticeable, and it gave you a surge of confidence. You still had it.
“You earned enough points to be able to kiss me again,” you bartered, and a single dark brow arched up his forehead as you leaned closer, pressing your body up against his.
“How soon can I cash it in?” The gravel of his voice rumbled through his body, and you felt it go directly to your core. You gave a slight tug on the chain in your hands, clueing him into your answer.
He didn’t need telling twice. Bucky followed the pull of his dog tags and leaned in to reconnect his lips with yours, and the second they hit home you melted into his grasp. You dropped the chain and wrapped your arms around his neck, putting most of your weight in his arms as his hands slid to wrap around your hips, holding you tight.
It was hot, full of fire and hunger. He moved against you like it was second nature, tuned into every little sign and indicator your body was giving him, rendering you practically boneless. He nipped at your bottom lip, and teased your tongue with his own as you let him in, no thoughts in your head save from letting him keep kissing you like his life depended on it.
Before you could wrap your brain around needing to stop for air, Bucky broke the kiss. His lips were so close, and yet so far, hovering inches away from yours. You spared a glance to see why he was torturing you like this, leaning back slightly to find his eyebrows furrowed as he stood completely still, peering out of his peripheral vision to follow… whatever it was he heard.
After a few moments of silence, he relaxed again, turning his focus back to you and donning a sheepish grin when you raised your brows in question. “Sorry, I thought I heard Ben.”
Ben… Ben, your son, sleeping in the other room.
You didn’t even have the brain power to remember where you were, let alone keep your motherly instincts intact. Usually, it was you who had the all-hearing ears, being able to pick up on any slight out-of-place movement your son may have made.
This time you didn’t. But Bucky did. While making out with you.
“Are you even real?” You gushed, earning you a deep chuckle that rumbled through him, his nose scrunched up in amusement. “I mean, it’s enough of a task trying to find a man even willing to give a single mom the time of day. But here you are, buying him ice cream on our first date and listening for him mid-makeout.” His cheeks were turning a cute shade of pink as you rattled on with your praise, shaking his head through his amusement.
“Well, I’m glad I’m doing something right, but that’s… I don’t feel like I deserve praise for that,” he admitted modestly, his tumb rubbing a soothing circle into you back as he continued to hold you close. “I actually feel like I should be apologizing for what I said earlier, when I went on about future things, and saying ‘we’ so many times… I- I hope I didn’t freak you out.”
The longer he kept talking, the more you were convinced you were dreaming. At any moment you would wake up, and this wonderful wonderful man would be ripped away from you.
But when the dream didn’t end, you were quick to ease his worries. “Please don’t apologize for that, it was- okay, I don’t want to freak you out, but it was actually really refreshing.”
Bucky tilted his head in question, gesturing for you to keep talking, and you took a moment to find the right words to explain what you were trying to tell him. Words that didn’t make it sound quite as pathetic as you always thought it did.
“The guys I’ve dated in the past… well, I’ll just say that they were less concerned about finding a sitter specifically for the first date, and more interested in finding a way to get Ben out of the equation completely.” You had more to say, but for a moment all you could do was watch him. His face changed as soon as the words left your lips, and you were momentarily fascinated by the thinly veiled discomfort that took over his expression.
Bucky was angry.
Was it weird that it made your knees weak? His intense care for the both of you – as a complete unit – was making your insides do somersaults, and he wasn’t even seeking a reward for it. This wasn’t a show, he wasn’t trying to get on your good side. No, he was trying to hide it, play it off as something else.
“I’d way rather hear you talk about a possible future, about teaching him things as he gets older… it’s a nice change from having to explain why Ben’s dad hasn’t come to take him away for the weekend,” you finished earnestly, watching the internal battle dance behind his eyes. “I like having you around all the time, watching you play together. You’re really good with him, Buck.”
That last statement seemed to ease enough of his fiery emotions to give you a shy smile. “I try,” he shrugged. “He’s a sweet boy, it’s hard to tell him no.”
“I know,” you groaned, earning you another laugh that rumbled through his large frame. “Y’know, he likes you a lot. He tells me all the time that you’re his best friend.” Bucky’s face melted into a soft smile, and it made you gooey.
“As much as I like to hear that, I want better for him,” he started, sparing a glance towards Ben’s room, as if he was watching him through the walls. Only a mother wouldn’t think that was crazy. “He deserves a best friend his age, not a 107-year-old war veteran.” The bluntness of his statement made you laugh, the mental image of the two of them – and all their many differences – making for a comical image in your head. “Don’t get me wrong, he is my best friend, and I have no shame admitting it.”
“Oh really? Not any of your superhero friends?” You started, but he made a scrunchy face in distaste, and you did your best not to erupt into more giggles. “And what about me?” He dropped the goofy expression and looked back at you with his eyebrow raised.
“I was reserving something else for you…” he said smoothly, the timber of his voice sending another shiver through your body.
“And what would that be?” you asked innocently, the arms still wrapped around his neck trying to encourage him to lean in closer. Instead, Bucky’s grip on you tightened as he rose from the arm of the couch, his darkening eyes never leaving yours as he walked you backwards through your apartment, keeping you balanced as you did your best to keep your feet on the ground.
“Mmm, I think you’ll just have to wait and see,” he hummed, your back hitting the wall of your entry way as his eyes bore into yours. “I think I’ve hit my quota on future-talk tonight,” Bucky whispered.
He didn’t give you time to come up with a witty reply before he leaned in close and pressed his lips against yours ever so softly, one arms slinking around your waist to pull you flush to him as his other left you, but you couldn’t dedicate any thought to where it might have gone when you were running your hands through his hair and enjoying the pleased sounds it drew out of him.
It didn’t last long, Bucky breaking the kiss after only a few sweet kisses – not nearly enough, in your opinion – giving you a shit eating grin. He whispered a goodnight, stepping back to admire the flustered state he was leaving you in before walking back towards your front door, coat already in hand. And with one last wink he was gone, the door clicking softly as he shut it gently behind him, conscious of the sleeping four year old inside the apartment.
You didn’t know how long you sat there, bracing yourself against the wall just inside your apartment as you went over the events of the night, remembering each sweet gaze, tender touch, and absolutely tantalizing kiss he had given you. One thing was for sure; it was without a doubt the most romantic date you had ever been on.
You took a deep breath and pushed yourself off of the wall, moving to go double-check on Ben before starting your own nightly routine. You stopped in your tracks when your phone vibrated in your pocket, your face quickly breaking into a smile when Bucky’s name appeared on the screen.
If we’re still throwing out first date rules, I don’t have to wait three days to text you again, right? Great, I’m glad you agree.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: The Holiday season catches Bucky by surprise, but after a less-than-ideal morning, a friendly invitation from his new neighbor is more tempting than he would have anticipated.
Prologue to the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 1
Warnings: language, festive holiday things (I tried to keep it very vague so all celebrations could be filled in), talk of wartime and Bucky’s past, I think that’s it…
AN: Happy Holidays!! I was watching White Christmas – one of my favorite Christmas movies, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it – and the opening scene made me think of Bucky and how he might react. I thought of his neighbor showing this movie to him, and then did the math backward from the timeline of my series and realized she moves in right around Christmas time… so this is the fic that happened 😂 Set before chapter one, you don’t have to have read any of Neighbors to be able to follow along, but there are nods to later chapters if you have.
Thank you @deceiverofgodss for listening to my rambling, ily 💛
Bucky let out a sigh of relief when he got all the little app icons to jumble around the way google had said, finding the app he’d just been using and tapping the buttons in the corner. Yes, I want to delete the app.
It had been about a month since he’d been given this new life, and it was… still an adjustment. The Wakandans had been more than generous, Shuri and Ayo seeing to it directly that he had everything he needed. They organized the pardon trial, went through hoops to find him a decent lawyer, and helped him settle into the apartment the government had set up for him. Shuri, in fact, had scolded him when he tried to tell her he’d find the place on his own, saying something along the lines of him being too stubborn for his own good.
It was very reminiscent of when his family had dropped his sister Rebecca off at school in Indiana. Ayo had told him they’d already prepped the place with everything he would need to get started, Shuri had excitedly whispered about a new tactical suit she’d hidden in the back of the closet – “just in case… you can never be too prepared” – and then they were gone.
Bucky had been required to start weekly therapy sessions as part of his pardon, and begrudgingly – by court mandate – he went each Saturday morning to hear comments about finding out who he was again. It was exhausting.
It had started with the haircut. He hadn’t lasted two weeks before the shoulder-length mess drove him crazy. Though that wasn’t fair… it wasn’t the length that bothered him, but the reflection in the mirror. His codes were broken and his life was in his own hands, but the Winter Soldier seemed to be staring back at him everywhere he looked.
The short hair was an adjustment to say the least. But he had stepped out of the barbershop feeling lighter, like a new man. And the face that looked back at him was one he hadn’t seen in a long time.
That being said, it had also directly led to a plan that was most definitely one of his worst.
The last time he had truly been James Buchanan Barnes was back in the 1940s, notorious for being popular with women. So when that cocky confidence surged back up again, he had the not-so-brilliant idea to try it again. He thought that if he went back to being the ladies' man he once was, he’d find himself.
A horrible decision, that one.
Having no clue where to even start, he took to searching on google “How does dating work in the 21st century?” Which had him downloading a dating app. The one that he was getting rid of this very moment.
It had done nothing but confuse him further. He couldn’t take a good picture of himself to save his life and had worse luck creating a description for his profile; in hindsight, “James. 105. Still don’t know what to put here… I think I’m better in person” probably wasn’t his best move.
Most of the girls thought he was trying to be funny, and were disappointed when the following conversation proved otherwise. Some girls took his profile as an invitation to talk about a number of things he wished he didn’t understand. And a handful of them… well, he didn’t think he could blame his poor excuse of a profile for the pictures he’d been sent, but it happened nonetheless.
The dates he had been on were filled with nothing but meaningless small talk and modern nuances he didn’t understand, leaving him with less and less of the already dwindling monthly check he’d gotten as part of his pardon. It didn’t take long for him to come to terms with the fact that groceries cost far more than they did in the forties, and that his three thousand dollar army retirement wasn’t exactly the sum it used to be, especially when rent took up so much of it. Maybe he shouldn’t have turned Murdock down when he’d suggested they fight for more…
No, he didn’t need to be selfish, he would get by. It had saved him from having to deal with any more of the loud crowds of press or the looks people gave him in the courtroom, which was why Bucky had told Matt ‘no’ when he suggested they could get away with more than a retirement rate based on outdated economic values.
He’d certainly survived on less when he was in Romania. He’d be fine.
Bucky approached the top of the stairs that deposited him in front of his apartment, returning from the last of his lousy dates as the app in question disappeared from the screen. Good riddance.
As he went to put his key in the lock, he heard steps behind him coming down from the floor above, and he turned to glance over his shoulder as his door clicked open, pleasantly surprised when he found you descending from the floor above.
You had on a flattering sweater and looked very put together, as you always did, except it didn’t look like it offered you much warmth since you kept your crossed arms close to your body as you moved through the building. In another time, he’d leap to offer you his jacket or make some quippy remark about keeping you warm. He’d have to be blind not to admit you were a very pretty girl, one he would have gone after back in his prime…
But he wasn’t that man anymore. Not by a long shot. Who he was, he had no idea, but the James Barnes of his past was not who was standing before you in the hall.
You gave him a warm smile as you made eye contact, and he returned it with a friendly grin of his own.
“Hey! James, right?” You asked sweetly, and he nodded in confirmation as you fished your own keys out from the pocket of your jeans. “Funny how we seem to keep meeting like this… You at your door, me at mine,” you joked as you gestured between the two of you, and it genuinely made him laugh.
“Such strange places for either of us to be. We can’t keep seeing each other like this,” he tossed back, your airy giggle filling the landing. You were the first person all day that he hadn’t minded starting a conversation with. He didn’t know you all that well, he’d only seen you in the building a handful of times, but your interactions always left him with a smile on his face – in comparison to the rest of his daily encounters, that was a high compliment. “Making more banana bread rounds?” He asked only a little awkwardly, gesturing up the stairs you’d just descended from as he tried to keep the conversation going. .
“Hm? Oh! No, not today,” you answered, a little uncertain yourself. At least, that’s what he could guess from your posture, picking at your hands as you kept them in front of you.
“That’s good. I don’t need any competition for your leftovers,” he joked, earning an amused grin.
“Is that so?”
“Are you kidding? That was the best banana bread I’ve had in eighty years.” You laughed out loud, your face scrunched up as you threw your head back. At least it had come across as funny because he wouldn’t have known how to play it off otherwise. “I may or may not have polished it off in one sitting,” he continued when your laughter had come back down to a chuckle.
“Oh gosh, I’m glad to hear it! I’ll have to let you know when I make another batch,” you smiled, the warmth in your voice practically reaching out and taking hold of him, and he couldn’t say he minded.
“Please do.”
The conversation hit a short lull – though shockingly, not an awkward one – and he feared whether this would be the end of it. Something about you made it easy to open up a little bit more, and he liked branching out from talking to either his therapist or Mr. Nakajima; neither of those conversations were easy, but unfortunately required. You were different.
Before he could worry too long, your brows shot up on your forehead as you came to some sort of realization. “Oh, hey! What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked excitedly.
“I uh… I won’t lie, I hadn’t even realized Christmas was coming up so soon,” he admitted. “I don’t really have any plans.” He could confidently say that was the understatement of the century, having lived through most of it.
“Well, if you need somewhere to go, I was gonna do something Christmas Eve. Just, y’know, make some snacks and put on a few holiday movies,” you shrugged, and for a moment, Bucky genuinely didn’t know how to respond. “I’m new to the city so I haven’t found my people just yet, but nobody needs to be alone during the holidays.”
When Bucky met you, he had opened his door to find you smiling directly at him, handing him a plate of banana bread muffins, and introducing yourself as his neighbor across the hall. And now, only a few days later, you were inviting him into your apartment to celebrate the holidays. He hadn’t been graced with this amount of kindness in a very long time, and it was more refreshing than he was prepared for.
“Is anyone else coming?” he asked slowly, not quite sure what to do with himself and this wave of emotion that had hit him.
“Uh, well I’ve been knocking on other people’s doors kinda asking the same thing,” you started, gesturing to the stairs you’d come down from a few minutes ago. “A lot of people are traveling, or have other plans. Or, you know, are lying to the stranger who just invited them to her apartment a few floors down.” Your comedic shrug made him chuckle under his breath, and he liked how easily you put a smile back on his face.
“So it’d just be you and me?” Did that realization make him nervous? This whole interaction would be a hell of a lot easier to navigate if he could just understand what the hell his own feelings were doing.
“That’s what it looks like... if that makes it too weird, that’s okay! But if you’re an introvert like me and like that there won’t be people there, my offer still stands.” Now it was your turn to look at him a little nervously, completely unaware that he could tell, waiting to see if you would end up having to spend the holidays alone.
In that moment he realized that you were just two lonely people. One in need of a little extra kindness, and one with that much extra to give, conveniently placed right at each other's doorsteps.
“I’ll be there.”
…
When Bucky knocked on your door a few days later, you answered in a cozy-looking sweater, leggings, and tall fuzzy socks with festive patterns on them. He started to feel a bit nervous about the stark contrast of his leather jacket and gloves – more specifically, about what he would say if you asked about taking them off – but the warm smile that spread across your face managed to ease his worries. For now.
“Hey! Come on in!” You beckoned, holding the door open wider and turning back into the apartment, allowing him to follow in after you. “I’m glad you came over, I’ve been here all day and I just… well, human interaction could do me some good,” you laughed, and he chuckled with you.
“Don’t mention it. I’ve been there, it’s… I’m glad to fill the position.” You smiled sweetly as you flitted through the space to the kitchen, and he took a second to take in his surroundings while you were occupied.
Your apartment had a different layout than his, your front door dropping him directly into your open living room on his left, and the decently sized kitchen separated by a half wall of counters to his right. It was hard to judge precisely how large the space was as the only things in the room were a couch, a TV sitting on a dresser that definitely wasn’t in its final position, and a neat arrangement of cardboard boxes in the middle of the living room. And yet, despite the lack of living this space had gone through, it was far more warm and inviting than he was expecting. Even so early on, it felt like a home.
You had an assortment of foods and snacks jumbled together on the countertop closest to him, and he watched as you pulled a few more dips and toppings out of the fridge. He had half a mind to laugh at the comical amount of food you had prepared for just two people, but he was a super soldier whose monthly expenses were starting to make him count his pennies... He could make a sizable dent in your selection without even trying, and leave only feeling a little bit guilty.
“Sorry for the mess,” you started, stepping around a different stack of boxes piled in front of your cabinets. “I definitely thought that I’d have plenty of time to make my apartment look presentable by now, but I underestimated how much crap I have, so… I’ve made my peace with the cardboard coffee table for now.”
“I mean, you’ve been here how long, maybe two weeks?” He asked, and you nodded as you popped a loaded cracker into your mouth. “I’d expect you to have a cardboard coffee table still. It’s only a small change from the three pieces of furniture in my living room.”
“Three? How long have you lived here?”
“About a month,” he answered with a tight-lipped smile, and a small grin appeared at the corner of your lips. “To be fair, I didn’t really have anything when I moved in, so it’s… a work in progress.” You nodded in understanding as you pointed at him with intention.
“Well, that’s different! Having to furnish an apartment is expensive, it takes time. Organizing the hodge-podge of shit you’ve collected over the years is less forgiving,” you explained, and he laughed when you rolled your eyes at all the boxes still surrounding you.
Bucky was still trying to figure out how he wanted to settle into your space, but watching you be so candid and casual within minutes of his arrival was like a palette cleanser. Sure, maybe you didn’t know about the vibranium hiding under his left sleeve – nor that the history associated with it was his to claim – but watching you pick nonchalantly at the finger foods displayed between you was slowly eating away at his unease. You were relaxed and comfortable around him…
It was a nice change.
“Help yourself, don’t be shy! Eat as much as you like, I’m sick of reheated leftovers, so if you don’t eat them now you’ll be taking them home,” you ordered pointedly as you stepped back into the living room, leaving him chuckling quietly to himself. “I’ll go ahead and put on something festive… Do you like old movies, James?” you questioned as you reached for the tv remote.
“Define old movies…” he offered cautiously. Catching up on the pop culture of the last seventy years had been a daunting task he’d barely scratched the surface of.
“Like, really old. Classic Hollywood, from the forties and fifties.” Thank god…
“Yes. Yeah, I do. They- Yep, those are my favorite,” he fumbled, grateful that he’d at least know how to steer his way through most of this conversation. You looked ecstatic at his answer.
“Have you seen White Christmas?” You asked excitedly.
Dammit.
“I uh- no, I haven’t gotten to that one yet.”
“What?” you asked incredulously, sounding offended as you snapped your head around to look back at him. “Oh, we’re watching it right now, you’re gonna love it.”
Bucky raised both of his brows as if to ask if you were serious, a playful expression tugging at his features, winning him over when you gave him a sly grin before turning back to find the movie on your screen. What was he getting himself into…
“It’s got some big names, too. Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, and … shoot, I always forget his name…” you trailed off, your mission paused as you fidgeted your fingers in concentration. “He plays the Scarecrow, from the Wizard of Oz?”
He knew that movie… His sister Rebecca had called him from school to gush about it too many times to count, having told him she spent most of her extra money on tickets to watch it again – with a threat to keep it secret from their mother.
“Is it Danny Kaye?” He piped up, remembering the names from a colored poster a younger – and much smaller – Steve Rogers had practically studied before Bucky managed to drag him into the theater in time for the picture to start rolling when they got to their seats.
You snapped your fingers and pointed back at him with a wide expression of relief. “Yes!! Ugh, he’s so good in this.”
“No kidding… Alright, my interest is piqued. Let’s see if it’s as good as you say,” he teased, watching as you located the movie and hit play, turning back to shoot him a smug look.
“It will be.”
…
Bucky didn’t know what to expect from your classic holiday movie, but opening on a scene from the front lines of the war hadn’t been anywhere close.
“Christmas Eve, 1944.”
That was a date he’d remembered living, having spent it similarly to what he saw on the screen. The Howling Commandos had banded together in their temporary camp, pulling together any bits and pieces they could to decorate one of the smaller trees growing just inside the perimeter. The men had shared traditions from back home, sang holiday carols, and kept Dum Dum Dougan from doing anything too outlandish. He definitely kept Steve on his toes, acting as an oversized mother hen to the whole group.
“God, some of them are just so young.”
Your voice took Bucky out of his thoughts, looking up to see your gaze locked on the screen with a commiserative expression. Your eyes followed a young soldier in one of the back rows before you turned back to look at him, becoming a little sheepish as you attempted a smile.
“I know that sounds ridiculous. Like, they’re not actually out at war, he’s just an extra in the background, but…”
“But it happened.”
He’d seen those boys come in. As Sergeant James Barnes of the U.S. Army in 1943, he’d seen men of all ages come into his responsibility as privates, the war encouraging an influx of men enlisting, himself included. Some of his men had wives and families they were fighting for. Some of them were around his age, having nothing better to do with their “able bodies” than surrender them to their country’s use.
Some of those boys were freshly eighteen, enlisted mere days after their birthdays, and dropped in his hands. He’d even seen some as young as seventeen, having managed to get away with lying their way into the army, and each one of them made him feel more and more anxious about Steve’s ability to succeed at doing the very same thing.
“I think people forget about that, sometimes,” you continued, your gaze back on the screen as you looked through the crowd of soldiers in between the crooner’s solo shots. “Just how young, or even how human these soldiers were.”
He felt a lump start to form in his throat at your sentiment.
“Obviously I know that these guys aren’t actually out on the front lines,” you continued, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the movie. “But I just… it makes me think about the soldiers who were actually out there and the lives they had. Their loved ones, wives and children, friends and girlfriends they might have left behind. What they went through when they were out there…”
You paused, and when he studied the tight-lipped smile you were giving him, he knew you were trying to stop yourself from getting emotional. It caused a strange sort of tug of war in his brain, instincts that had been long since dormant wanted to prevent your tears, keep you happy. And yet, he was baffled by how moved you were by stories of these soldiers…
Soldiers like him.
“Sorry, this- I know this is silly, but-”
“I don’t think it is,” he offered quickly, and his train of thought was momentarily derailed when your sparkling eyes caught his – apparently the power of a pretty woman’s crying eyes still had an effect on him seventy years later.
He may not have been that same suave ladies' man anymore, but he wasn’t about to deny the fact that you were a very pretty woman, one that the old James Barnes would have been pushing people aside to ask you for a dance. He was old, not blind.
“Really? Getting all sentimental about people who don’t really exist?” You snarked, trying to laugh it off.
“But some of those men – the actual people – don’t have anyone to think about them like this anymore. Its… I think they’d appreciate knowing someone remembered their efforts.” He needed to stop and collect his thoughts for a moment, dancing on that line between his truth and the white lies he’d been telling so as not to stand out as a 105-year-old war veteran.
If you kept looking at him like you could see into his soul he’d be spilling his guts in no time. He wasn’t ready to be seen like that, not by anyone, not by you. You were the only person he had actually wanted to talk to, he liked getting to know you, getting to relax for two fucking seconds without being holed away from the rest of the world…
He couldn’t risk losing that. Losing you.
“I- I hadn’t thought of it that way,” you contemplated, pursing your lips as you reevaluated your emotions. “What made you think of it like that?”
I’m one of them.
Yeah, that wasn’t an option.
“Uh, my dad, I think… he was in the Army before I was,” he started, which wasn’t technically a lie. But with the exaggeration, it gave him a moment to reflect on the truth, and remember those moments with his father so many years ago. “He was able to come home early after being wounded overseas. But even years later, he would look at the young men in their uniforms with this look in his eye… like he was taking the time to understand them, care for their situation like he wished he’d had someone to do for him.”
George Barnes had never been a man of many words, especially not about his feelings. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t shared his stories with his children and passed on the legacy he’d carried with him through his service years.
And now haunting the conversation Bucky was boring you with now. Way to be a sad sack, Barnes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the whole mood down,” he tried, giving you an apologetic grimace, but your expression only softened.
“Stop, you didn’t bring anything down. Besides, I started it,” you shrugged, and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. “So, you said you’re in the Army?”
Did he say that?
He did.
Shit.
“I- well, I was. I’m uh… I’m not now.” Oh this was going fucking swimmingly. “I was discharged,” he finished awkwardly. He was tempted to just walk out your front door. Empty stomach, empty hands, dignity in shambles… but his identity intact.
“Oh, okay. Do you mind me asking what happened?”
Every muscle in his body was telling him to run. Get up and bolt out the door. But what good would that do him? You were his Neighbor. He couldn’t go far, and even if he escaped this conversation now, he would still see you in the hall between your apartments.
Bucky was stuck. If he ran, your friendship would be strained. It was even a friendship yet, it wasn’t anything yet, and he would ruin it. But if he stayed, one more slip could mean you finding out who he was. And what then? Would the Winter Soldier come back to ruin this for him anyway?
“I was… medically discharged,” he started, his throat tight as he forced himself to say something. Maybe if he kept it vague, he stood a chance at making it out to see the light on the other side. “There was an accident. I uh… well, I don’t usually talk about it.”
“I’m so sorry, I- we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to pry,” you rushed to assure him, mere moments after he’d fumbled his way through an excuse. He felt like he’d just run a marathon, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he realized he’d somehow made it through. You were now the one sitting awkwardly, fiddling with your hands once again as you wracked your brain for a change of subject, some way to backpedal towards common ground.
The two of you had that in common.
“It’s okay, really. Besides, I started it,” he tried, throwing your words back at you with a small grin. A strange sense of ease washed over him when you laughed, relaxing back into your seat and sparing a glance back at the television screen.
The division had just finished singing a heartfelt song to their general – much more emotional than he wagered the average man of his time was capable of expressing, but that’s a Hollywood adaptation for you – when the sounds of explosions became much more prominent, men running for cover this way and that. It was, unfortunately, a familiar scene.
“You have to watch this!” You cried, quick at attention once you realized which part of the movie you were in. “It goes by quickly, but it’s important!”
“Alright alright, I’m watching,” Bucky smiled, welcoming the topic change as he settled on the couch next to you, watching this scene you deemed so important before he set out to tear into the snacks on the counter.
Much to his own surprise, it was really nice. If someone had told him a month ago that he would thoroughly enjoy himself as he watched a movie on his neighbors couch, he wouldn’t have believed you. But he also wouldn’t have been able to anticipate that the neighbor in question would sing along to all the songs or gush about the sway of the women’s skirts – he listened as you described your dream dress in great detail, and he hung onto every word. “Something just like this pink one Judy has on, but maybe in a darker color? Like a dark blue…”
Bucky wouldn’t have believed he’d be laughing over a plate of appetizers as you mocked the nasally blonde side character, or stopping himself from spitting his coke everywhere when you rattled on about just how “freakishly tiny” Judy’s waist was – your words, not his. He’d even found himself comfortable enough to open up on his own, avoiding any conversation coming close to his complicated past, but he liked being able to talk with you about things he was familiar with.
He’d helped you set up your record table when he brought it up on accident, relieved when you offered to give him a tour of your collection when it was a similar interest. And, having moved into aiding with handiwork around your apartment, he was quick to offer his super-solider enhancements to get the dresser moved at least to the right room. You tried to insist he didn’t have to, but when you watched how easily he accomplished it, the protest fell quietly out of the conversation.
He liked being useful. He liked making you laugh… Mostly, he liked feeling like himself again. Whoever he was, it felt good to be someone he didn’t mind seeing in the mirror.
Maybe he’d run into you in the hall more often.
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: Jay and Charlie invited your Saturday dancing group over to their place for dinner and drinks. But after New York, you and Bucky have some new developments to explore before you can join your friends.
Ch 14 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 13 | Ch. 15
Warnings: language, pet names, SMUT [oral- fem rec, fingering, overstimulation? handjob, shower shenanigans], Bucky Barnes is the softest man alive and I want one, a lot of italics, that’s it it’s just filth
AN: I know you see the tags, no I’m not gonna talk about it 😂 @deceiverofgodss thanks for sharing your brain cells, I love you 💛
Gif from @unearthlydust (this whole gifset just fits, okay? its so pretty)
Things had changed in New York. Good things. Great things. This relationship Bucky was in with you, this life with you was nothing short of bliss, and he wanted to soak up every single second of it.
Much to his disappointment, Monday morning brought the reminder that you still had to go into work, putting a damper on his desire to curl up in bed and hide you away from the world. But it didn’t stop him from waking you up softly in the mornings and kiss you languidly as you were walking out the door, which he shouldn’t have been as pleased with himself as he was each time you left a little bit late because of it.
He made up for lost time each afternoon by wrapping you in his overflowing affection when you got home. He could confidently say that you hadn’t gotten through a single meal this week without being pulled into the kitchen to dance, his need to have you close overpowering. And even though you sat down to watch your new show multiple times through the week, you were only about three episodes in since you kept having to rewind it, interrupted by too many impromptu make-out sessions to count.
The hardest part of it all was figuring out what to do with himself during the day while you were at work. He’d made more “progress” on his amends than anticipated – though they weren’t doing shit to improve his nightmares like Raynor kept insisting – and he had accompanied Yori on a handful of different outings, but he only had the stomach to bear those for so long. And Bucky didn’t like lounging around in his own apartment much anymore, finding it too bland and empty. It only served to remind him where he started, and how much your apartment felt like home.
That first day he’d had nothing else to do, he’d emptied the dishwasher. Another day he dusted all of the areas you were too short to reach. And last night after realizing you had laundry to take care of, he’d piped up to offer his help, which had resulted in teaching him how you liked doing your laundry – and subsequently, how to use the machine.
Which led him to where he was now, spending his Friday afternoon folding a basket of your combined laundry with another load in the dryer. And if he was being completely fair, most of this first basket was his. So when he reached into the hamper and pulled out something lacy and delicate and…
Oh.
He should have been embarrassed by the fact that his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your underwear… if he could even call them that. But he was just a man. A man from the 1940s no less. The thought of you in nothing but nothing but these tiny, see-through panties, accentuating your already perfect ass… he didn’t stand a chance.
The longer he thought about that sight, painting you up like his own personal pin-up poster in his head, the weaker he got. He’d tried to set them aside and forget about them, bury them in your pile of clothes so they were out of sight entirely, but the boner straining against his jeans didn’t allow him that luxury.
Bucky had managed to finish folding the laundry and setting it aside to put away later, though not without his mind wandering to other places. How often did you wear them? Why hadn’t he noticed you wearing them? Why did you hide it from him? Was it part of a matching set?
He was a goner. He wasn’t going to be able to ignore this one, he would have to do something about it or else he was going to implode. He went to glance at his watch to see how long it would be until you got home, not wanting to risk an awkward situation, but the second he did his phone buzzed in his pocket.
River and I managed to sneak away early, I’m on my way home as we speak!! 🙌
Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He could wait until you got home, he could absolutely wait for you. As he went to reply, he saw you typing out another message.
We don’t have to be at Jay and Charlie’s for dinner until later tonight, maybe we could watch a few episodes of our show until we have to go?
That does sound fun, but I have something else in mind.
I’m all ears, whatcha got planned??
You’ll just have to find out when you get here.
…
You were almost giddy in anticipation when you reached the top of the stairs to your apartment, Bucky’s mysterious plans for the evening having spurred your imagination the whole drive home. But as you turned your key in the lock, you still had no clue what he could possibly have up his sleeve, pushing the door open in the hopes that you’d have your answers soon.
But you were coming home to Bucky Barnes. You should have known better.
Stepping into your apartment, you smiled wide when you found the culprit sitting back on the couch waiting for you. God he was a sight… Legs spread wide as he took up as much room as possible, and a smug grin on his face as he watched you take your shoes off at the door.
“Hi, Buck!” you called sweetly as you hung your purse up beside his leather jacket.
“Hey baby,” he replied, his voice deep and velvety. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your body reacted to it, a little bit of his Brooklyn peeking out with the endearment. Turning back around to face him, you saw that he’d leaned a little further back to prop his arms up against the back of the couch, silently inviting you to come join him. You didn’t need to be asked twice. “How was your day?”
“It was good! Nothing too bad,” you answered with a shrug as you maneuvered around the coffee table to step up between his open legs. Now that you were within arms reach, he leaned forward to wrap his hands gently around your thighs, pulling you forward so you could sit in his lap. You settled into the position as his hands trailed up your body, brushing over your ass before resting on your hips while you straddled his lap. It was cozy to say the least.
“That’s good,” he sighed, blue eyes traveling across your features now that you were so close. The low rumble of his husky voice sent a chill down your spine, which he definitely noticed. “How’d you and River accomplish playing hookie?”
“We got everything done for the day. Technically they like us to stay and just work on whatever we can, but y’know…” You made a scrunchy face as you shrugged, earning you a deep chuckle from the man beneath you. He brought one of his hands up to hold your jaw, looking at you reverently as he waited for you to finish. “When they have what they need, they don’t really care to notice when two people slip out an hour early.”
When you finished explaining, he pulled you down to press his soft lips against yours, slow and languid the way he did everytime he wanted to throw off your train of thought. As you kissed him back, you wrapped your arms around his neck and settled further into his lap.
Bucky was the first to break the kiss, lingering mere centimeters away as he donned a mischievous grin, settling back against the couch. He pulled you back with him to keep your bodies pressed together, and the angle of your hips allowed you to finally sit comfortably over his.
And the bulge in his pants. The impressive bulge… how hadn’t you noticed it until now?
You tried to ignore it. “What have you been up to today?”
“Nothing much, cleaned a little here and there. I started doing the laundry, but I found something while I was folding it earlier…” he explained, and you watched him expectantly as one of his hands left you to reach into his pocket. His voice was calm and smooth when he continued. “Do you want to tell me when you wore this lacy little black string and I had no idea?”
Bucky held up his hand, and the lingerie you had worn the week before was dangling from his finger.
You short circuited as you stared at the thong in question.
“I- I didn’t have… I ran out of laundry,” you stammered, not quite as graceful as you’d hoped. “It was before your birthday. We weren’t, we hadn’t…”
“I hadn’t fucked you on my fingers yet?” he rasped with a cocked eyebrow, heat shooting directly to your core. You managed to make a sound in confirmation to his lewd question, nodding weakly as he toyed with the garment in his hand. “Well, since I didn’t get to see it last time, I started thinking about how pretty you must’ve looked in them...”
You felt like your brain was moving in slow motion while it was trying to process the flood of inappropriate thoughts rushing through your head, all of them featuring the man sitting beneath you.
“I was curious if it was part of a set,” he continued, reaching up with his other hand to brush his thumb over your cheek, and you shivered in response. “But I was even more curious if you’d show me.” Your brows shot up on your forehead.
“Are you gonna compare me to that picture you painted in your head?” You asked, trying to catch up to his advances, copying his flirtatious mood now that your body seemed to be waking up from the initial shock.
“I don’t think comparing is a fair way to describe it… I jus’ wanna see how beautiful the real thing is,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you again and scrambling any thought in your mind that didn’t revolve around him. “What do you say, baby girl?”
Instead of replying, you pressed one more chaste kiss on his lips before leaning back to watch his expression – dark, focused, and very aroused – before you slid your hands down from around his neck. With one hand resting on his chest next to his dog tags, you wrapped the other one around his extended arm, exploring his muscles until you reached his hand, snatching the thong from his grip.
As you got up out of his lap and stood up from the couch, you could tell that he was in the same state you were just moments ago, mind blank save from you while his eyes remained on your figure. He made to get up and follow you, but you reached back out to push him down.
“You gotta be patient, Sarge,” you murmured, letting your voice drop an octave to help create the illusion of a smooth temptress. Bucky’s brow shot up on his forehead and you watched him swallow as his rank left your lips, the corners of his lips turned up in his signature cocky grin. “I need time to make myself pretty for you.”
“You’re already pretty, sweets,” he sighed, his hands coming up to grab at the one you had on his chest, turning it in his grasp to plant a soft kiss to your palm. You had to retreat before he turned you into a puddle.
“I’ll call for you when I’m ready,” you settled on, letting your hand trail through his grasp as you walked away, and you definitely didn’t put an extra swing in your hips for him to watch as you went.
At first it was hard to remember why you had insisted he stay in the living room while you changed, wanting nothing more than to feel his warm body around you as you did. To feel his soft touches while you slipped out of your clothes, have him pressed up against you while you revived your hair… But as you laid yourself out on the bed, draping yourself against the pillows in just the right position, you realized it was more than worth it when you called him back into the room.
Bucky appeared at your bedroom door mere moments after he heard his name, and you watched his eyes dance across the thin layer of black lace that covered your breasts and wrapped around your ass as he leaned against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He drank in the sight before him, boyish grin growing gradually on his cheeks as he charted every detail of you he could see
“What do you think?” you asked innocently, unable to keep the smile off your cheeks.
“What do I think?” he asked exasperatedly, shaking his head in disbelief as he crossed the room. “I’ll show you what I think.” You giggled softly as he took long strides, appearing at the foot of the bed in no time and climbing onto the bed to crawl up your body, but you stopped him with pointed toes against his chest. His hands came up to caress your calf as he looked at you expectantly.
“C’mon Barnes, even the playing field a little,” you drawled, dragging the cotton up the ridges of his abs to get your point across.
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled, and you watched with interest as he set your leg back down onto the bed to pull his shirt over his head. You watched the way his shoulders moved, how his muscles flexed as he tossed it across the room, and the moving plates of his left arm when he did.
“You’re like a work of art,” you groaned, earning a belly laugh from the man towering over you, no stranger to the way you looked at him. When you thought that he’d be back on you, you watched in awe as he stepped back to shed his dark jeans. You gave him a look of surprise when he glanced back up at you, bent over as he unhooked the offending clothing from one of his ankles.
“Thought you wanted me to even the playing field,” he snarked, smirking as he stepped out of his jeans and stood to his full height, and you saw the muscular thighs he always hides. The fact that they filled your head with dirty thoughts on their own probably meant something, but it was a fact nonetheless.
"I don't know if we're playing the same game," you giggled, and he furrowed his brows in confusion as he propped his hands up on his hips, accentuating just how broad his shoulders were.
"What game are you playing?"
“The one where you get back over here.” Bucky’s nose scrunched up the way you loved when he laughed, quickly remedying the situation by climbing back up onto the bed to pick back up where he left off.
His hands made contact with you at your ankles, cool hands leaving goosebumps as they trailed up your legs to slide around your hips, fitting your ass into his large hands to find out just how much your panties didn’t cover. The vibranium sent a chill up your spine as his fingers moved up the small of your back, gliding over your skin to stop just below your breasts, toying with the edge of the lacy band.
Before you could prompt him to keep exploring, Bucky propped himself up to nudge your nose with his, the only warning you got before he connected his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It was charged, hungry, depraved. It didn’t take long before he was teasing your lips with his tongue, begging for entrance.
Right as you let him in, he nudged one of your legs to the side with his knee, making himself cozy between them. You let out a surprised gasp at the feeling of his body slotting so perfectly against yours – the weight of his erection barely concealed with his boxers and your string the only obstacles – but he swallowed the sound before it had a chance to go far, his tongue dominating your mouth with ease.
Your hands instinctively reached up to his hair, raking your nails across his scalp as they traveled down, the vibrations of his near growl making you moan in return. The tips of your fingers trailed down the side of his neck, toying with the chain of his tags while he poured his soul into you. You clung onto his broad shoulders for a moment, the sheer size of them making your head spin, before your hands finally landed on top of his. Finding your grip, you gently urged him to adjust his hold on you, moving slowly until his mismatched hands were cupping your breasts beneath the lingerie.
Bucky groaned, pulling away from the kiss to look between your bodies, his breath ragged as he rested his forehead against yours. He brushed his thumbs over your soft skin, entranced by the handful of your tits in his hands. When he gave a light squeeze, you took a sharp inhale and his gaze snapped up at you, his blue eyes completely lust-blown.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, catching your lips in a quick kiss and pulling away with your bottom lip between his teeth. Then he was diving right back in, his soft lips latching onto your jaw, planting kisses on the spot under your ear and along your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”
You felt like you were floating as Bucky adored – worshiped – you. His lips dragged across your skin, stopping to litter each and every inch of your body with his affection. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder and again across your collarbone, before he sucked on the skin just above your breasts, soft and pillowy enough to get a rise out of you while he left his mark. He glanced up at you as he moved lower, watching your reaction intently as he ever so delicately pushed the lace coverings aside.
When his tongue laved over your nipple, your back arched off the bed to seek him out, feeling his satisfied grin before you saw it. Encouraged by your body’s reaction, he took your tit into his mouth, sucking lightly as he started massaging the other bud with his vibranium thumb. And when you finally looked back down to watch him, you could feel a new wave of arousal leaking out of you at the sight.
Fuck he was hot.
By the time he’d finished giving your other breast equal attention – having sucked, nipped, licked, and pinched both sets of perked nipples – you genuinely thought you might be able to cum just from this. Was that possible? Did it really matter if it was possible for James Barnes to accomplish it?
He managed to drag himself away from them, giving you a sweet smile as he continued kissing down your body, hands caressing your sides as his lips ghosted over your sternum and traveled down to your stomach. And then there was a shift… where he had been cocky and sure, now he seemed to have lost some of that bravado, though no less eager as he adjusted his position.
“What’s wrong, Buck?” you asked softly, your tone still smooth and seductive as you checked in. He gave you a quick smile as he inched down the bed so he could lay on the mattress and ease your ankles over his shoulders.
“Nothing! Nothing… I just…” he trailed off, but you could tell there very clearly was something on his mind.
“We don’t have to do anything.”
“I want to do everything,” he rasped, and you took a second to let the shiver run though your body in reaction.
“Mmm… like what?” you tested, and he placed a gentle kiss to the inside of your leg as he contemplated his answer.
“Like burying my face between these pretty thighs,” he murmured, and in any other circumstance it would have ruined you. But he still wasn’t giving you a solid answer as to what was wrong.
“What’s stopping you?” His eyes danced across your body as he mulled over whatever was plaguing him, and you reached down to comb his hair back soothingly, relaxing a little as he leaned into your touch.
“I uh… it’s been a really long time…” he whispered in admittance. “I just, I might be a bit rusty,” he laughed nervously, and you gave him a reassuring smile.
“You’re already doing better than most,” you cooed, and when one eyebrow shot up on his forehead, you knew your words had exactly the effect you hoped they would. Because if there was one thing you knew about James Barnes, it’s that he was a giver, come hell or high water.
And maybe the best way to make him forget about his insecurities is to tap into his giving nature.
“Seriously?” he asked incredulously, and when you only nodded, he sighed in indignation. “Oh baby… I can make it so much better.”
“Why don’t you show me?” you lilted, and it was like you had flipped a switch, watching the eager grin grow on his cheeks.
Bucky took his eyes off of you to focus them at your core, swallowing hard when he was met with the see-through lace panties sitting in his way without blocking the view. You could tell that he was still nervous, even if just in the back of his mind. But he took his time tracing soothing patterns into the skin of your thighs before he took his right hand and hooked a finger into the delicate material, devastatingly slow as he pulled it off to the side.
His warm tongue licked up through your folds, and you were only vaguely aware of the low moan that left your body of its own accord. You could feel the hesitation leave his body, finding his confidence the second he had his mouth on you. He attached his lips to your clit and groaned as he began lightly sucking on your bundle of nerves, the vibrations of his deep voice shooting just as much pleasure through you as his attention to your sex. Licking and sucking and teasing…
“Fuck, James…” you breathed, your legs instinctively shuttering closed as he continued to work. He adjusted his grip on your body without detaching himself, sliding his arms underneath your ass so that he could reach up and slowly stretch your legs open as much as you would allow, giving him a better angle to admire your weeping pussy.
You whined when he released your clit and began lapping at your juices like a man starved. It was hard trying to keep your eyes open to watch him, but you didn’t dare look away, not when his expert tongue was making you feel like you were floating.
“You taste so good baby, I could live between your legs,” he rambled as he adjusted, flattening his tongue against you and licking one long stripe up your core. When he shot his tongue through your entrance you couldn’t hold in your gasp, hands flying to his hair as the sensation rippled through your body, only encouraged by the groan he let out in response.
Bucky was your only tether to reality, finding it hard to focus on anything but the pleasure he brought you as he was properly fucking you on his tongue. He licked just the right spot against your walls and buried himself even further to add the tip of his nose into the equation, nudging at your clit as he devoured you, and you could say with confidence that you had never felt this good in your life.
The familiar coil tightening in your belly came far sooner than you ever could have anticipated, building rapidly when he didn’t let up. His tongue licked up inside you and your legs began to shake, but he held them open with his firm grip, and you wondered whether his fingers would leave marks there in the morning.
“Bucky,” you whined, reeling when your entire body tingled, tightening your grip on his hair ever so slightly as he continued to work.
“Easy sweets, I got you,” he cooed as he came up for air. “Relax for me, just let me take care of you.” When he went back down for more, burying his nose into your folds as his tongue continued teasing your entrance, your mouth hung open as your eyes rolled back.
The sensation was overwhelming, and the thought that he knew what he was doing to you somehow made it that much better. He flicked his tongue against your sensitive walls, pressed his nose against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, and the burn of his stubble against the soft skin of your folds as he rubbed his jaw against you made your head spin.
With one more stroke of his tongue, the only warning you could give was another sharp tug on his scalp before he sent you hurtling over the edge, bathing in the immense pleasure of your climax while he drank from you. Your blood felt like fire, lighting you up from the inside, and you swore your body was teetering on the line between this universe and the next.
When your soul finally descended back to your body where it was sprawled out across the bed, you cracked your eyes open to glance down at the man who was still holding your legs open, watching you intently as he gently licked the mess from your sensitive pussy.
“How’re you feelin’?” he rasped, only pausing from his ministrations to check in with you. You smiled sheepishly as you gave a pleased hum in reply, and he chuckled under his breath.
You laid like that for a few moments, silently basking in his attention as you caught your breath. But the longer you did, the more he started to tease you. The tip of his tongue dancing around your entrance without going in, swirling around your clit just enough to make you jolt, pausing every few moments to press sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs – which were now wet with your release.
And your traitorous body was acting of its own accord, clearly having decided that you were in no place to be taking the reins. Every intentional lick of his was met with an involuntary reaction from you, husky groans were met with weak moans, and his hand caressing your thigh was rewarded with another scratch of your fingernails across his scalp.
“Gonna be the death of me,” he murmured into your skin, taking another pause to litter kisses up the expanse of your leg. Bucky’s eyes finally met yours, and you took account of the lingering lust filling his gaze, followed by a cocky grin.
In those few seconds, you came to the realization that he wasn’t done with you. Not by a long shot.
When his thick fingers began massaging your folds, your eyes shut as your head hit the pillow, clenching around nothing as the feeling hit you. There hadn’t been time to recover from your first climax thanks to Bucky’s careful attention, and your pussy was very reactive to even the slightest of his touches.
You didn’t imagine it took long for him to coat his fingers in your juices, but when he slowly pushed one finger inside your puffy walls, you were still surprised at how effortless he’d done it. And if the groan he let out was any indication, it had taken him by surprise as well.
“So wet for me, sweets,” he whispered, and when you managed to lift your head enough to look at him, you found his eyes trained on your pussy, watching in awe as he began to pump his finger in and out of you. It was making you squirm, the feeling too much and not enough all at the same time.
“I can’t- Buck, I need-” you whimpered, unsure how to communicate the intensity of what you were feeling. But before you could try to get any other word out he managed to read your mind, perfectly tuned in to your body as he inserted one more finger, and your jaw fell open at the stretch.
“There you go baby, doin’ so good for me.” The words had barely left his lips before he was leaning down again, and you cried out when he was licking at your clit, never slowing the rhythm of his digits.
The more you squirmed, the harder he sucked on your clit, his tongue circling the bundle of nerves when you started to get too still for his liking. The more you moaned in unintelligible pleasure, the faster he fucked you on his fingers. He was keeping you in a toe curling fog of euphoria, not allowing you a moment's rest before he was igniting new waves of ecstasy through your tired body.
You were still riding the high of your last orgasm when the overwhelming amount of stimulation sent you hurtling towards a second climax. You didn’t even have the time to realize you were approaching it before it hit you like a tidal wave. Only held open by one of his strong hands, your legs snapped shut around his head – which earned a growl that you swore you felt through your veins – the tingling in your body like an electric shock as your jaw dropped, letting out a loud whine.
For a moment, everything was a haze. The world beyond your eyelids was a cloud, foggy sounds dancing around your ears, and you felt vague sensations through your body that you knew you couldn’t count on being able to decipher. For that moment, even before your rapid heartbeat and labored breaths had a chance to reach your consciousness, your mind was peacefully blank of everything but Bucky.
And that’s exactly who brought you out of your trance, your breathing hard as you came back down to earth, and you were only just becoming aware of the feeling of emptiness as he spoke gently.
“You still with me, pretty girl?” You used all of your willpower to be able to open your eyes and look down at him, seeing a handsome smile spread across his face. “There she is,” he sighed, and you smiled back bashfully.
“There I am,” you murmured, and Bucky gave a breathy chuckle. Then he was crawling up your body again, nothing but tenderness in his eyes as he held your gaze, arms sliding underneath your tired body to hold you close while he hovered above you.
“How’d I do?” he asked playfully, and when you gave a very enthusiastic hum in agreement, he laughed again before leaning down to press his lips to yours. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and the images of him devouring you flashed across the back of your eyelids, sending a new chill down your spine.
He kissed you like that a few times, slow and gentle like he often did when he was trying to communicate all the emotions he didn’t know how to voice. He wasn’t trying to push you, or work you up for anything you weren’t ready for. He just wanted you.
He parted from your lips and gave a sweet kiss to your cheek before he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck, your hands instinctively raising to rest on his back as you spoke.
“How long did we…?” You trailed off, and you felt him smile against your neck as he eased his right hand out from under you to glance at the very nice black and gold watch on his wrist – a parting gift from the Wakandan princess he’d told you once.
“Long enough that we took up the entire hour you stole from work,” he teased, wrapping himself back around you and giving you a tight squeeze. You, on the other hand, only groaned.
“That means we’re gonna have to get ready to go to Jay and Charlie’s soon,” you sighed in defeat as you started playing with his hair, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle up with your super soldier for eternity.
“What is it that we’re doing again?” You heard, muffled as he spoke into your skin. “I know you told me, but I was… preoccupied.” He pressed a light kiss to your neck as you remembered trying to tell him about the text you’d gotten from Charlie, being interrupted a handful of times when he would grab your face and cut you off with a kiss.
“They invited us over to their place for dinner and drinks so we could all catch up, since some of us have been missing Saturday nights at Morelli’s,” you answered pointedly. After kitchen makeouts that lasted longer than they should have and birthday trips to New York, you and Bucky had only made it to a handful of nights at the diner, and you were at risk of becoming notorious for ditching to do… other things at home.
“Were those her exact words?” he asked, and you giggled as you nodded in reply. “That’s- the diner is where we hang out, if some of us don’t make it, we wait until next week. We’re gonna be there tomorrow night anyway,” he defended, very much playing the part of the grumpy old recluse.
“Oh, okay… so you don’t want to see them?” He hesitated a moment before he answered, and you couldn’t help the knowing grin that crept onto your face.
“I didn’t say that,” he grumbled, shaking his head against you, tickling your skin with his nose. “They’re great, good people, we have a fun time… But maybe I don’t exactly want to have to share you so soon after you get home on Friday nights.”
“Buck, I’ve been home for an entire hour,” you giggled. “And we took advantage of it,” you added suggestively, and he smiled mischievously as his lips migrated down to your collarbone.
“Not long enough,” he husked, starting to press more kisses there. “How long until we need to leave?”
“Maybe another hour?”
“Perfect,” he sighed. Before you could question him, he sucked lightly on your neck, a gasp sneaking up out of you at the sensation. “Gives us just enough time to have a little bit more fun…” He laved over your skin with his tongue before placing a kiss there, leaning back so that he could look to you for your answer.
You wished you could have said yes. You really really did.
“If we start, you and I both know we won’t stop anytime soon, and I’ve still got to take a shower,” you reasoned, hoping you could communicate how much you wanted to keep going. But he read you like a book, like he always did, and his gaze softened as his eyes danced over your features.
“Then let’s get you that shower,” he grinned, and before you could process his statement he was already lifting you up into his arms, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips as he rose to his knees.
You laughed the whole way as he crossed your small bedroom, your practically naked body clinging to his equally exposed one. One hand cupped your ass and squeezed it playfully, and the other ran soothing patterns up your back as he walked you through the small apartment. When he walked into the bathroom, you were instantly pressed up against the wall. The hand that had been on your back was now cradling your jaw, the pad of his thumb brushing your cheek as he took a moment to admire you, running his tongue over his pink lips.
He leaned in to kiss you again, physically unable to hold himself back. You should have been disappointed in your lack of self-control, but it was so hard to be mad at how good it felt when you kissed him back. Especially when he was pressing you further into the wall behind you, his hips coming into very close contact with yours, allowing you to feel the erection that was still very present beneath his boxers.
You gave an experimental roll of your hips, delighted by the grunt that escaped him in response. His hands were quick as they flew to your waist, inching up to slide under the black lace that was still covering your breasts, and you wasted no time in lifting your hands so that he could delicately slide the material off of your body.
But when you expected him to lean in to continue kissing you, he stayed back. His hands traveled down to your thighs, easing your legs from around his waist to set you gently on the floor. His fingers dipped underneath the thin band of your thong, dropping to his knees before you as he started sliding the material down your legs. And you had never felt so treasured, so adored as when he took each of your ankles in his hands, and gently slid the lingerie off of each foot before returning them back to the tile floor.
When he stood back up to his full height, he only left you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulled away again, moving towards the shower to start turning on the water. And while goosebumps appeared on your skin, no longer having his warm body to heat you, he did leave you with a nice view. Back muscles sculpted by an artist, muscular legs that stood strong and steady, and his boxers only helped accentuate his ass, tempting that little goblin voice in the back of your head that wanted to reach out and smack it…
He turned around after having tested the water, smiling sweetly as he took your face in his hands, kissing your cheek. “D’you want me to go set your clothes out while you get showered?” he asked, and you scrunched your nose in disappointment.
“You’re not gonna come with me?” His brows shot up on his head and he swallowed hard, clearly not having expected that question. “My legs are so shaky, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up by myself,” you whined playfully, your cheap trick at least earning you a grin.
He let out a breath in exasperation as he debated his answer. “You’re trouble,” he whispered, and you only giggled in response. “Alright, c’mon.”
You were maybe a little bit too giddy when you kissed him excitedly, reaching for his hand to try and pull him behind you as you scurried up to the shower. Bucky stood rooted to the spot, and when you turned to ask why, he was grinning as he cocked one eyebrow up in question.
“My legs are shaky, I can’t stand up by myself,” he taunted, and you scoffed as you tried to come up with another excuse.
“I- just for a few steps, thank you very much,” you shot back, and he laughed as he let your hand go.
“Go on,” he smiled, nodding towards the shower. “I’ll follow after you.” You looked at him for another moment, taking note of his almost antsy manner, and it probably shouldn’t have taken you so long to realize your request came with another first….
Those boxers were coming off.
You smiled sweetly as you turned to step through the sliding door into the shower, thoughts swarming your head about what was about to happen. Was he nervous? Was he eager? Was he big?
Stop it.
As you got settled underneath the warm stream of water, your legs began to tremble beneath you – both with anticipation of what was coming, but also from exertion. Your body was just barely managing to keep you upright with all the … exercise.
There was enough of a pause that you began to wonder what to do with yourself. You could only see a vague shape of him from the other side of the pebbled glass, but it wasn’t enough to be able to determine what he might be doing – or wearing, for that matter. You didn’t want to start washing yet, wanting to at least preserve your makeup until he had a chance to get in and get… situated. Instead you waited patiently, if not awkwardly, as the water beat against your chest.
Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when you heard him slide the shower door back just enough to let himself in, and you could feel the presence of his large frame entering the small space behind you.
Before you even had a moment to overthink anything, you felt him run his knuckles up your spine, and you shivered despite his warm touch. He fit both of his hands around your waist, his firm grip kneading your muscles as they wandered soothingly up your body. He slid them around your middle before leaning closer, kissing your shoulder before tucking into the crook of your neck.
Then his chest met your back. His broad shoulders crowded around yours, his body caging you in and wrapping you up in his body heat… and his boner rested against the small of your back as he closed in around you.
Fuck… this wasn’t going to be a quick shower.
“Hi” his deep voice broke the silence. You hummed in amusement as you leaned into him, resting one hand over his and lifting the other to play with the stubble on his jaw.
“Hi,” you lilted back, capable of little else. You rested your head against his shoulder, and you soaked up the feeling of having him so close to you, tangled in each other. It was domestic, peaceful even.
Except for the fact that you were already working yourself up again with his dick pressed into your back.
“I uh, I just want to say that this isn’t- I’ve been like this since before you got home, so…” he started, nudging the tip of his nose into your skin, and couldn’t help the smile that rose to your cheeks. “We can just ignore it, I don’t want you to think that… I- it’ll go away eventually.”
“Bucky, have you been hard for over an hour?” you asked, your voice smooth and silky. You couldn’t help yourself… He nodded gently as he continued kissing your neck, sucking lightly just under your jaw.
“I found that string and I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, and you could feel your already swollen center start lighting up again, slick with another round of arousal.
“Why didn’t we do anything about it?” you asked seductively, leaning back and rolling your hips to try and rub up against him. His grip tightened on you – which meant that you had accomplished exactly what you tried to – and he stood back up to his full height, keeping you close to his chest as he looked down at you with a cocked brow.
“I’m sorry, what do you think we’ve been doing?” he sassed, and you scoffed.
“That was just for me, you didn’t get anything out of it,” you retorted, but where you expected him to agree with you, he only grinned.
“I would beg to differ,” he whispered, bringing goosebumps to your skin. The thought of him getting off on eating you out, rutting into the mattress while he had his head between your legs…
You turned in his grasp so you could wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your wet, naked bodies together as you pulled him down for a kiss. You could tell you’d caught him by surprise, but he was quick to catch up to your hungry advances, and you let him in the second his tongue licked at your lips. As your mouths moved together desperately, your bodies did as well, your hips rocking against him as the weight of his erection pressed into your stomach.
His hands gripped your hips firmly again, pulling you with him as he took a step back, leaning against the back wall of your small shower. Your legs slotted together, intertwining with his as the two of you got as close to each other as physically possible, putting most of your weight in his hands.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, taking a moment to calm his heavy breathing before he spoke. “I thought you said we didn’t have time for anything else,” he breathed, the blue of his eyes only a thin rim surrounding his lust-blown pupils. You shrugged your shoulders in response, and he grinned as he shook his head. “We’re gonna be late,” he reasoned.
“They can wait for us, they’ll manage,” you countered, sliding one hand from around his neck and trailing down the planes of his body. Over his large pecs – which, with your remaining willpower, you did not smack – and down the hard ridges of his abs. “You’ve waited long enough.” His eyelids fluttered as he watched your hand move across his body, and when you looked down to meet his gaze, you probably should have been embarrassed by the sound that left you.
Bucky was big.
His cock was long and thick, enough that you knew it would be a comfortably wonderful stretch, and his uncut tip was practically begging for attention. You took your time bringing the hand that had explored his body to his shaft, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he simply watched as you wrapped your fingers just beneath his head to pull away the foreskin.
Bucky took a sharp breath as you revealed the red, leaking tip, swollen with his need for release. Your gaze snapped up to his face when he did, taking great pleasure in watching his eyes shut, his head softly hitting the shower wall as you brushed your thumb under the sensitive spot below his head.
“Shit,” he sighed, sending heat directly to your core. “That feels- fuck, that feels good.” You smiled sweetly at his words, leaning in to attach your lips to his collarbone to press soft kisses there, collecting some of his precum on your thumb to spread down the length of him.
You started your slow movements, the silky skin of his cock slid through your fingers easily with the help of his arousal, but his hands were restless. The warm hand at your hip was roaming your skin, unsure of where to go while the vibranium of his left hand found your breasts and squeezed. You gasped in response as he let out a long groan, encouraging you to speed up your pace.
You were enchanted by the sounds he was making, his deep voice impossibly sexier when it was laced with blissful pleasure. You twisted your wrist as your grip moved up and down his length, eliciting even more of a reaction out of the super soldier as you worked his erection with careful attention, his rumbling moans as good an indication as any that you were making him feel just as good as when he was devouring you not too long ago.
Bucky’s restless hands continued wandering, his left one now grabbing you behind your neck after massaging your breasts, and lifting you head up so that he could look at you. His right hand slipped around the curve of your ass, using his grip as leverage to pull you closer, and slamming his pink lips against yours again. His tongue danced with yours while his rough hand explored you, traveling lower to wrap your leg around his hip, trailing down the inside of your thigh when he was confident that you weren’t going anywhere.
The hand on his dick stopped momentarily when he slipped one thick finger through your folds, your walls immediately clenching around him. You let out a whimper and he swallowed the sound as he pumped his finger inside you, doing your best to keep jerking him off… But when he pushed a second finger through your slick, you involuntarily tightened your grip, causing him to break the kiss with a grunt.
“It’s been so long, I don’t- shhhhit, I’m not gonna last,” he whined, eliciting another hum as you brushed your thumb over his tip.
“It’s okay, baby,” you assured, using the arm draped around his neck – keeping you upright as he continued fucking you on his fingers – to rub soothing patterns into his skin, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Just relax, Buck, tell me what you need.”
“I- just faster, please.”
You gripped his cock a little tighter and did exactly as he asked, speeding up your pace and being sure to hit that sweet spot just under his swollen head. The faster you went, the faster he pumped his fingers into you, and after cumming on his tongue twice, it wasn’t going to take long for him to get you there again.
He smashed his lips into yours once more, but you were so drunk on each other that neither of you could manage much more than lingering kisses as you put all of your focus in getting the other off. Grunts, whines, moans, and whimpers of pleasure floated like music around you, unsure of who made what sound. His fingers reached that spot inside you that made you see stars, and you switched to short and fast strokes at his tip.
“Honey, I’m- I-” he warned, his cock throbbing in your hand.
“Cum with me, James,” you whispered, clinging to him like your life depended on it.
He pumped his fingers a little bit faster, you matched his pace, and with a few more strokes both of you were gone. This third climax hit you softer than the other ones, your body only having so much left to give, but it allowed you to watch in awe as the man in your hands fell apart.
Bucky let out a choked cry, his hands stilling inside of you as he rested his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight as he let the sensations consume him. You slowed your hands and kept your fingers circled around his head, prolonging his climax as you leaned forward enough to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss as you rode out your highs together. His dick pulsed in your hand as he shot ropes of cum over your hand and across his heaving chest, a low satisfied hum vibrating through him as the tension left his large frame.
When his spend trickled down at his tip, he slumped against the wall, inadvertently taking you with him. You let go of his already softening dick to cling to his shoulders as you fell into his hold, his fingers sliding out of your tired pussy to wrap his arms around your middle and hold you close.
“We should have done that in New York,” he breathed, making you laugh as you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his amusement through his chest.
“You could have carried me to the shower with you, I would have been more than willing,” you lilted, placing barely there kisses across the base of his neck.
He squeezed you a little bit tighter. “Ohhh don’t tease me like that right now,” he warned. “I’ve discovered the serum gave me a uh… a very quick recovery time. We don’t exactly have time for another round,” he explained, and you had a hard time keeping a straight face at his predicament.
“Oh, but it’s so tempting,” you teased, and when you lifted your head up off of his shoulder you were met with a stern glare. “Alright I won’t… Bit of a blessing and a curse, I take it?”
“Apparently,” he huffed indignantly, rolling eyes as you hummed in amusement. You gave him one more kiss on the cheek before standing back up on your own two feet, and his eyes watched you carefully.
“Well, we’re gonna be super late as it is, let’s not give them too much satisfaction,” you muttered, earning you a cocked grin and a small amused huff. “C’mon, help me reach the shampoo and I’ll wash your hair,” you offered, watching his face soften at your request before he gripped you tight and stood to his full height.
He wasn’t wrong about a quick recovery, already practically back to normal as he walked you back into the stream of hot water. And even though you’d been through more orgasms in the last hour or so than you’d ever had in a single day – at least with a man’s assistance – you wanted to live in this sweet moment for the rest of time. Savoring the feeling of holding him close, being so intimate with each other as you lathered soap into his skin, and relishing in his firm touches as he washed your back.
Showering with Bucky was definitely going on the list of things to start doing more often. That, and a few other things…
Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛
Summary: Jay and Charlie invited your Saturday dancing group over to their place for dinner and drinks. But after New York, you and Bucky have some new developments to explore before you can join your friends.
Ch 14 of the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 13 | Ch. 15
Warnings: language, pet names, SMUT [oral- fem rec, fingering, overstimulation? handjob, shower shenanigans], Bucky Barnes is the softest man alive and I want one, a lot of italics, that’s it it’s just filth
AN: I know you see the tags, no I’m not gonna talk about it 😂 @decieverofgodss thanks for sharing your brain cells, I love you 💛
Gif from @unearthlydust (this whole gifset just fits, okay? its so pretty)
Things had changed in New York. Good things. Great things. This relationship Bucky was in with you, this life with you was nothing short of bliss, and he wanted to soak up every single second of it.
Much to his disappointment, Monday morning brought the reminder that you still had to go into work, putting a damper on his desire to curl up in bed and hide you away from the world. But it didn’t stop him from waking you up softly in the mornings and kiss you languidly as you were walking out the door, which he shouldn’t have been as pleased with himself as he was each time you left a little bit late because of it.
He made up for lost time each afternoon by wrapping you in his overflowing affection when you got home. He could confidently say that you hadn’t gotten through a single meal this week without being pulled into the kitchen to dance, his need to have you close overpowering. And even though you sat down to watch your new show multiple times through the week, you were only about three episodes in since you kept having to rewind it, interrupted by too many impromptu make-out sessions to count.
The hardest part of it all was figuring out what to do with himself during the day while you were at work. He’d made more “progress” on his amends than anticipated – though they weren’t doing shit to improve his nightmares like Raynor kept insisting – and he had accompanied Yori on a handful of different outings, but he only had the stomach to bear those for so long. And Bucky didn’t like lounging around in his own apartment much anymore, finding it too bland and empty. It only served to remind him where he started, and how much your apartment felt like home.
That first day he’d had nothing else to do, he’d emptied the dishwasher. Another day he dusted all of the areas you were too short to reach. And last night after realizing you had laundry to take care of, he’d piped up to offer his help, which had resulted in teaching him how you liked doing your laundry – and subsequently, how to use the machine.
Which led him to where he was now, spending his Friday afternoon folding a basket of your combined laundry with another load in the dryer. And if he was being completely fair, most of this first basket was his. So when he reached into the hamper and pulled out something lacy and delicate and…
Oh.
He should have been embarrassed by the fact that his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your underwear… if he could even call them that. But he was just a man. A man from the 1940s no less. The thought of you in nothing but nothing but these tiny, see-through panties, accentuating your already perfect ass… he didn’t stand a chance.
The longer he thought about that sight, painting you up like his own personal pin-up poster in his head, the weaker he got. He’d tried to set them aside and forget about them, bury them in your pile of clothes so they were out of sight entirely, but the boner straining against his jeans didn’t allow him that luxury.
Bucky had managed to finish folding the laundry and setting it aside to put away later, though not without his mind wandering to other places. How often did you wear them? Why hadn’t he noticed you wearing them? Why did you hide it from him? Was it part of a matching set?
He was a goner. He wasn’t going to be able to ignore this one, he would have to do something about it or else he was going to implode. He went to glance at his watch to see how long it would be until you got home, not wanting to risk an awkward situation, but the second he did his phone buzzed in his pocket.
River and I managed to sneak away early, I’m on my way home as we speak!! 🙌
Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He could wait until you got home, he could absolutely wait for you. As he went to reply, he saw you typing out another message.
We don’t have to be at Jay and Charlie’s for dinner until later tonight, maybe we could watch a few episodes of our show until we have to go?
That does sound fun, but I have something else in mind.
I’m all ears, whatcha got planned??
You’ll just have to find out when you get here.
…
You were almost giddy in anticipation when you reached the top of the stairs to your apartment, Bucky’s mysterious plans for the evening having spurred your imagination the whole drive home. But as you turned your key in the lock, you still had no clue what he could possibly have up his sleeve, pushing the door open in the hopes that you’d have your answers soon.
But you were coming home to Bucky Barnes. You should have known better.
Stepping into your apartment, you smiled wide when you found the culprit sitting back on the couch waiting for you. God he was a sight… Legs spread wide as he took up as much room as possible, and a smug grin on his face as he watched you take your shoes off at the door.
“Hi, Buck!” you called sweetly as you hung your purse up beside his leather jacket.
“Hey baby,” he replied, his voice deep and velvety. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your body reacted to it, a little bit of his Brooklyn peeking out with the endearment. Turning back around to face him, you saw that he’d leaned a little further back to prop his arms up against the back of the couch, silently inviting you to come join him. You didn’t need to be asked twice. “How was your day?”
“It was good! Nothing too bad,” you answered with a shrug as you maneuvered around the coffee table to step up between his open legs. Now that you were within arms reach, he leaned forward to wrap his hands gently around your thighs, pulling you forward so you could sit in his lap. You settled into the position as his hands trailed up your body, brushing over your ass before resting on your hips while you straddled his lap. It was cozy to say the least.
“That’s good,” he sighed, blue eyes traveling across your features now that you were so close. The low rumble of his husky voice sent a chill down your spine, which he definitely noticed. “How’d you and River accomplish playing hookie?”
“We got everything done for the day. Technically they like us to stay and just work on whatever we can, but y’know…” You made a scrunchy face as you shrugged, earning you a deep chuckle from the man beneath you. He brought one of his hands up to hold your jaw, looking at you reverently as he waited for you to finish. “When they have what they need, they don’t really care to notice when two people slip out an hour early.”
When you finished explaining, he pulled you down to press his soft lips against yours, slow and languid the way he did everytime he wanted to throw off your train of thought. As you kissed him back, you wrapped your arms around his neck and settled further into his lap.
Bucky was the first to break the kiss, lingering mere centimeters away as he donned a mischievous grin, settling back against the couch. He pulled you back with him to keep your bodies pressed together, and the angle of your hips allowed you to finally sit comfortably over his.
And the bulge in his pants. The impressive bulge… how hadn’t you noticed it until now?
You tried to ignore it. “What have you been up to today?”
“Nothing much, cleaned a little here and there. I started doing the laundry, but I found something while I was folding it earlier…” he explained, and you watched him expectantly as one of his hands left you to reach into his pocket. His voice was calm and smooth when he continued. “Do you want to tell me when you wore this lacy little black string and I had no idea?”
Bucky held up his hand, and the lingerie you had worn the week before was dangling from his finger.
You short circuited as you stared at the thong in question.
“I- I didn’t have… I ran out of laundry,” you stammered, not quite as graceful as you’d hoped. “It was before your birthday. We weren’t, we hadn’t…”
“I hadn’t fucked you on my fingers yet?” he rasped with a cocked eyebrow, heat shooting directly to your core. You managed to make a sound in confirmation to his lewd question, nodding weakly as he toyed with the garment in his hand. “Well, since I didn’t get to see it last time, I started thinking about how pretty you must’ve looked in them...”
You felt like your brain was moving in slow motion while it was trying to process the flood of inappropriate thoughts rushing through your head, all of them featuring the man sitting beneath you.
“I was curious if it was part of a set,” he continued, reaching up with his other hand to brush his thumb over your cheek, and you shivered in response. “But I was even more curious if you’d show me.” Your brows shot up on your forehead.
“Are you gonna compare me to that picture you painted in your head?” You asked, trying to catch up to his advances, copying his flirtatious mood now that your body seemed to be waking up from the initial shock.
“I don’t think comparing is a fair way to describe it… I jus’ wanna see how beautiful the real thing is,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you again and scrambling any thought in your mind that didn’t revolve around him. “What do you say, baby girl?”
Instead of replying, you pressed one more chaste kiss on his lips before leaning back to watch his expression – dark, focused, and very aroused – before you slid your hands down from around his neck. With one hand resting on his chest next to his dog tags, you wrapped the other one around his extended arm, exploring his muscles until you reached his hand, snatching the thong from his grip.
As you got up out of his lap and stood up from the couch, you could tell that he was in the same state you were just moments ago, mind blank save from you while his eyes remained on your figure. He made to get up and follow you, but you reached back out to push him down.
“You gotta be patient, Sarge,” you murmured, letting your voice drop an octave to help create the illusion of a smooth temptress. Bucky’s brow shot up on his forehead and you watched him swallow as his rank left your lips, the corners of his lips turned up in his signature cocky grin. “I need time to make myself pretty for you.”
“You’re already pretty, sweets,” he sighed, his hands coming up to grab at the one you had on his chest, turning it in his grasp to plant a soft kiss to your palm. You had to retreat before he turned you into a puddle.
“I’ll call for you when I’m ready,” you settled on, letting your hand trail through his grasp as you walked away, and you definitely didn’t put an extra swing in your hips for him to watch as you went.
At first it was hard to remember why you had insisted he stay in the living room while you changed, wanting nothing more than to feel his warm body around you as you did. To feel his soft touches while you slipped out of your clothes, have him pressed up against you while you revived your hair… But as you laid yourself out on the bed, draping yourself against the pillows in just the right position, you realized it was more than worth it when you called him back into the room.
Bucky appeared at your bedroom door mere moments after he heard his name, and you watched his eyes dance across the thin layer of black lace that covered your breasts and wrapped around your ass as he leaned against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He drank in the sight before him, boyish grin growing gradually on his cheeks as he charted every detail of you he could see
“What do you think?” you asked innocently, unable to keep the smile off your cheeks.
“What do I think?” he asked exasperatedly, shaking his head in disbelief as he crossed the room. “I’ll show you what I think.” You giggled softly as he took long strides, appearing at the foot of the bed in no time and climbing onto the bed to crawl up your body, but you stopped him with pointed toes against his chest. His hands came up to caress your calf as he looked at you expectantly.
“C’mon Barnes, even the playing field a little,” you drawled, dragging the cotton up the ridges of his abs to get your point across.
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled, and you watched with interest as he set your leg back down onto the bed to pull his shirt over his head. You watched the way his shoulders moved, how his muscles flexed as he tossed it across the room, and the moving plates of his left arm when he did.
“You’re like a work of art,” you groaned, earning a belly laugh from the man towering over you, no stranger to the way you looked at him. When you thought that he’d be back on you, you watched in awe as he stepped back to shed his dark jeans. You gave him a look of surprise when he glanced back up at you, bent over as he unhooked the offending clothing from one of his ankles.
“Thought you wanted me to even the playing field,” he snarked, smirking as he stepped out of his jeans and stood to his full height, and you saw the muscular thighs he always hides. The fact that they filled your head with dirty thoughts on their own probably meant something, but it was a fact nonetheless.
"I don't know if we're playing the same game," you giggled, and he furrowed his brows in confusion as he propped his hands up on his hips, accentuating just how broad his shoulders were.
"What game are you playing?"
“The one where you get back over here.” Bucky’s nose scrunched up the way you loved when he laughed, quickly remedying the situation by climbing back up onto the bed to pick back up where he left off.
His hands made contact with you at your ankles, cool hands leaving goosebumps as they trailed up your legs to slide around your hips, fitting your ass into his large hands to find out just how much your panties didn’t cover. The vibranium sent a chill up your spine as his fingers moved up the small of your back, gliding over your skin to stop just below your breasts, toying with the edge of the lacy band.
Before you could prompt him to keep exploring, Bucky propped himself up to nudge your nose with his, the only warning you got before he connected his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It was charged, hungry, depraved. It didn’t take long before he was teasing your lips with his tongue, begging for entrance.
Right as you let him in, he nudged one of your legs to the side with his knee, making himself cozy between them. You let out a surprised gasp at the feeling of his body slotting so perfectly against yours – the weight of his erection barely concealed with his boxers and your string the only obstacles – but he swallowed the sound before it had a chance to go far, his tongue dominating your mouth with ease.
Your hands instinctively reached up to his hair, raking your nails across his scalp as they traveled down, the vibrations of his near growl making you moan in return. The tips of your fingers trailed down the side of his neck, toying with the chain of his tags while he poured his soul into you. You clung onto his broad shoulders for a moment, the sheer size of them making your head spin, before your hands finally landed on top of his. Finding your grip, you gently urged him to adjust his hold on you, moving slowly until his mismatched hands were cupping your breasts beneath the lingerie.
Bucky groaned, pulling away from the kiss to look between your bodies, his breath ragged as he rested his forehead against yours. He brushed his thumbs over your soft skin, entranced by the handful of your tits in his hands. When he gave a light squeeze, you took a sharp inhale and his gaze snapped up at you, his blue eyes completely lust-blown.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, catching your lips in a quick kiss and pulling away with your bottom lip between his teeth. Then he was diving right back in, his soft lips latching onto your jaw, planting kisses on the spot under your ear and along your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”
You felt like you were floating as Bucky adored – worshiped – you. His lips dragged across your skin, stopping to litter each and every inch of your body with his affection. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder and again across your collarbone, before he sucked on the skin just above your breasts, soft and pillowy enough to get a rise out of you while he left his mark. He glanced up at you as he moved lower, watching your reaction intently as he ever so delicately pushed the lace coverings aside.
When his tongue laved over your nipple, your back arched off the bed to seek him out, feeling his satisfied grin before you saw it. Encouraged by your body’s reaction, he took your tit into his mouth, sucking lightly as he started massaging the other bud with his vibranium thumb. And when you finally looked back down to watch him, you could feel a new wave of arousal leaking out of you at the sight.
Fuck he was hot.
By the time he’d finished giving your other breast equal attention – having sucked, nipped, licked, and pinched both sets of perked nipples – you genuinely thought you might be able to cum just from this. Was that possible? Did it really matter if it was possible for James Barnes to accomplish it?
He managed to drag himself away from them, giving you a sweet smile as he continued kissing down your body, hands caressing your sides as his lips ghosted over your sternum and traveled down to your stomach. And then there was a shift… where he had been cocky and sure, now he seemed to have lost some of that bravado, though no less eager as he adjusted his position.
“What’s wrong, Buck?” you asked softly, your tone still smooth and seductive as you checked in. He gave you a quick smile as he inched down the bed so he could lay on the mattress and ease your ankles over his shoulders.
“Nothing! Nothing… I just…” he trailed off, but you could tell there very clearly was something on his mind.
“We don’t have to do anything.”
“I want to do everything,” he rasped, and you took a second to let the shiver run though your body in reaction.
“Mmm… like what?” you tested, and he placed a gentle kiss to the inside of your leg as he contemplated his answer.
“Like burying my face between these pretty thighs,” he murmured, and in any other circumstance it would have ruined you. But he still wasn’t giving you a solid answer as to what was wrong.
“What’s stopping you?” His eyes danced across your body as he mulled over whatever was plaguing him, and you reached down to comb his hair back soothingly, relaxing a little as he leaned into your touch.
“I uh… it’s been a really long time…” he whispered in admittance. “I just, I might be a bit rusty,” he laughed nervously, and you gave him a reassuring smile.
“You’re already doing better than most,” you cooed, and when one eyebrow shot up on his forehead, you knew your words had exactly the effect you hoped they would. Because if there was one thing you knew about James Barnes, it’s that he was a giver, come hell or high water.
And maybe the best way to make him forget about his insecurities is to tap into his giving nature.
“Seriously?” he asked incredulously, and when you only nodded, he sighed in indignation. “Oh baby… I can make it so much better.”
“Why don’t you show me?” you lilted, and it was like you had flipped a switch, watching the eager grin grow on his cheeks.
Bucky took his eyes off of you to focus them at your core, swallowing hard when he was met with the see-through lace panties sitting in his way without blocking the view. You could tell that he was still nervous, even if just in the back of his mind. But he took his time tracing soothing patterns into the skin of your thighs before he took his right hand and hooked a finger into the delicate material, devastatingly slow as he pulled it off to the side.
His warm tongue licked up through your folds, and you were only vaguely aware of the low moan that left your body of its own accord. You could feel the hesitation leave his body, finding his confidence the second he had his mouth on you. He attached his lips to your clit and groaned as he began lightly sucking on your bundle of nerves, the vibrations of his deep voice shooting just as much pleasure through you as his attention to your sex. Licking and sucking and teasing…
“Fuck, James…” you breathed, your legs instinctively shuttering closed as he continued to work. He adjusted his grip on your body without detaching himself, sliding his arms underneath your ass so that he could reach up and slowly stretch your legs open as much as you would allow, giving him a better angle to admire your weeping pussy.
You whined when he released your clit and began lapping at your juices like a man starved. It was hard trying to keep your eyes open to watch him, but you didn’t dare look away, not when his expert tongue was making you feel like you were floating.
“You taste so good baby, I could live between your legs,” he rambled as he adjusted, flattening his tongue against you and licking one long stripe up your core. When he shot his tongue through your entrance you couldn’t hold in your gasp, hands flying to his hair as the sensation rippled through your body, only encouraged by the groan he let out in response.
Bucky was your only tether to reality, finding it hard to focus on anything but the pleasure he brought you as he was properly fucking you on his tongue. He licked just the right spot against your walls and buried himself even further to add the tip of his nose into the equation, nudging at your clit as he devoured you, and you could say with confidence that you had never felt this good in your life.
The familiar coil tightening in your belly came far sooner than you ever could have anticipated, building rapidly when he didn’t let up. His tongue licked up inside you and your legs began to shake, but he held them open with his firm grip, and you wondered whether his fingers would leave marks there in the morning.
“Bucky,” you whined, reeling when your entire body tingled, tightening your grip on his hair ever so slightly as he continued to work.
“Easy sweets, I got you,” he cooed as he came up for air. “Relax for me, just let me take care of you.” When he went back down for more, burying his nose into your folds as his tongue continued teasing your entrance, your mouth hung open as your eyes rolled back.
The sensation was overwhelming, and the thought that he knew what he was doing to you somehow made it that much better. He flicked his tongue against your sensitive walls, pressed his nose against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, and the burn of his stubble against the soft skin of your folds as he rubbed his jaw against you made your head spin.
With one more stroke of his tongue, the only warning you could give was another sharp tug on his scalp before he sent you hurtling over the edge, bathing in the immense pleasure of your climax while he drank from you. Your blood felt like fire, lighting you up from the inside, and you swore your body was teetering on the line between this universe and the next.
When your soul finally descended back to your body where it was sprawled out across the bed, you cracked your eyes open to glance down at the man who was still holding your legs open, watching you intently as he gently licked the mess from your sensitive pussy.
“How’re you feelin’?” he rasped, only pausing from his ministrations to check in with you. You smiled sheepishly as you gave a pleased hum in reply, and he chuckled under his breath.
You laid like that for a few moments, silently basking in his attention as you caught your breath. But the longer you did, the more he started to tease you. The tip of his tongue dancing around your entrance without going in, swirling around your clit just enough to make you jolt, pausing every few moments to press sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs – which were now wet with your release.
And your traitorous body was acting of its own accord, clearly having decided that you were in no place to be taking the reins. Every intentional lick of his was met with an involuntary reaction from you, husky groans were met with weak moans, and his hand caressing your thigh was rewarded with another scratch of your fingernails across his scalp.
“Gonna be the death of me,” he murmured into your skin, taking another pause to litter kisses up the expanse of your leg. Bucky’s eyes finally met yours, and you took account of the lingering lust filling his gaze, followed by a cocky grin.
In those few seconds, you came to the realization that he wasn’t done with you. Not by a long shot.
When his thick fingers began massaging your folds, your eyes shut as your head hit the pillow, clenching around nothing as the feeling hit you. There hadn’t been time to recover from your first climax thanks to Bucky’s careful attention, and your pussy was very reactive to even the slightest of his touches.
You didn’t imagine it took long for him to coat his fingers in your juices, but when he slowly pushed one finger inside your puffy walls, you were still surprised at how effortless he’d done it. And if the groan he let out was any indication, it had taken him by surprise as well.
“So wet for me, sweets,” he whispered, and when you managed to lift your head enough to look at him, you found his eyes trained on your pussy, watching in awe as he began to pump his finger in and out of you. It was making you squirm, the feeling too much and not enough all at the same time.
“I can’t- Buck, I need-” you whimpered, unsure how to communicate the intensity of what you were feeling. But before you could try to get any other word out he managed to read your mind, perfectly tuned in to your body as he inserted one more finger, and your jaw fell open at the stretch.
“There you go baby, doin’ so good for me.” The words had barely left his lips before he was leaning down again, and you cried out when he was licking at your clit, never slowing the rhythm of his digits.
The more you squirmed, the harder he sucked on your clit, his tongue circling the bundle of nerves when you started to get too still for his liking. The more you moaned in unintelligible pleasure, the faster he fucked you on his fingers. He was keeping you in a toe curling fog of euphoria, not allowing you a moment's rest before he was igniting new waves of ecstasy through your tired body.
You were still riding the high of your last orgasm when the overwhelming amount of stimulation sent you hurtling towards a second climax. You didn’t even have the time to realize you were approaching it before it hit you like a tidal wave. Only held open by one of his strong hands, your legs snapped shut around his head – which earned a growl that you swore you felt through your veins – the tingling in your body like an electric shock as your jaw dropped, letting out a loud whine.
For a moment, everything was a haze. The world beyond your eyelids was a cloud, foggy sounds dancing around your ears, and you felt vague sensations through your body that you knew you couldn’t count on being able to decipher. For that moment, even before your rapid heartbeat and labored breaths had a chance to reach your consciousness, your mind was peacefully blank of everything but Bucky.
And that’s exactly who brought you out of your trance, your breathing hard as you came back down to earth, and you were only just becoming aware of the feeling of emptiness as he spoke gently.
“You still with me, pretty girl?” You used all of your willpower to be able to open your eyes and look down at him, seeing a handsome smile spread across his face. “There she is,” he sighed, and you smiled back bashfully.
“There I am,” you murmured, and Bucky gave a breathy chuckle. Then he was crawling up your body again, nothing but tenderness in his eyes as he held your gaze, arms sliding underneath your tired body to hold you close while he hovered above you.
“How’d I do?” he asked playfully, and when you gave a very enthusiastic hum in agreement, he laughed again before leaning down to press his lips to yours. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and the images of him devouring you flashed across the back of your eyelids, sending a new chill down your spine.
He kissed you like that a few times, slow and gentle like he often did when he was trying to communicate all the emotions he didn’t know how to voice. He wasn’t trying to push you, or work you up for anything you weren’t ready for. He just wanted you.
He parted from your lips and gave a sweet kiss to your cheek before he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck, your hands instinctively raising to rest on his back as you spoke.
“How long did we…?” You trailed off, and you felt him smile against your neck as he eased his right hand out from under you to glance at the very nice black and gold watch on his wrist – a parting gift from the Wakandan princess he’d told you once.
“Long enough that we took up the entire hour you stole from work,” he teased, wrapping himself back around you and giving you a tight squeeze. You, on the other hand, only groaned.
“That means we’re gonna have to get ready to go to Jay and Charlie’s soon,” you sighed in defeat as you started playing with his hair, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle up with your super soldier for eternity.
“What is it that we’re doing again?” You heard, muffled as he spoke into your skin. “I know you told me, but I was… preoccupied.” He pressed a light kiss to your neck as you remembered trying to tell him about the text you’d gotten from Charlie, being interrupted a handful of times when he would grab your face and cut you off with a kiss.
“They invited us over to their place for dinner and drinks so we could all catch up, since some of us have been missing Saturday nights at Morelli’s,” you answered pointedly. After kitchen makeouts that lasted longer than they should have and birthday trips to New York, you and Bucky had only made it to a handful of nights at the diner, and you were at risk of becoming notorious for ditching to do… other things at home.
“Were those her exact words?” he asked, and you giggled as you nodded in reply. “That’s- the diner is where we hang out, if some of us don’t make it, we wait until next week. We’re gonna be there tomorrow night anyway,” he defended, very much playing the part of the grumpy old recluse.
“Oh, okay… so you don’t want to see them?” He hesitated a moment before he answered, and you couldn’t help the knowing grin that crept onto your face.
“I didn’t say that,” he grumbled, shaking his head against you, tickling your skin with his nose. “They’re great, good people, we have a fun time… But maybe I don’t exactly want to have to share you so soon after you get home on Friday nights.”
“Buck, I’ve been home for an entire hour,” you giggled. “And we took advantage of it,” you added suggestively, and he smiled mischievously as his lips migrated down to your collarbone.
“Not long enough,” he husked, starting to press more kisses there. “How long until we need to leave?”
“Maybe another hour?”
“Perfect,” he sighed. Before you could question him, he sucked lightly on your neck, a gasp sneaking up out of you at the sensation. “Gives us just enough time to have a little bit more fun…” He laved over your skin with his tongue before placing a kiss there, leaning back so that he could look to you for your answer.
You wished you could have said yes. You really really did.
“If we start, you and I both know we won’t stop anytime soon, and I’ve still got to take a shower,” you reasoned, hoping you could communicate how much you wanted to keep going. But he read you like a book, like he always did, and his gaze softened as his eyes danced over your features.
“Then let’s get you that shower,” he grinned, and before you could process his statement he was already lifting you up into his arms, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips as he rose to his knees.
You laughed the whole way as he crossed your small bedroom, your practically naked body clinging to his equally exposed one. One hand cupped your ass and squeezed it playfully, and the other ran soothing patterns up your back as he walked you through the small apartment. When he walked into the bathroom, you were instantly pressed up against the wall. The hand that had been on your back was now cradling your jaw, the pad of his thumb brushing your cheek as he took a moment to admire you, running his tongue over his pink lips.
He leaned in to kiss you again, physically unable to hold himself back. You should have been disappointed in your lack of self-control, but it was so hard to be mad at how good it felt when you kissed him back. Especially when he was pressing you further into the wall behind you, his hips coming into very close contact with yours, allowing you to feel the erection that was still very present beneath his boxers.
You gave an experimental roll of your hips, delighted by the grunt that escaped him in response. His hands were quick as they flew to your waist, inching up to slide under the black lace that was still covering your breasts, and you wasted no time in lifting your hands so that he could delicately slide the material off of your body.
But when you expected him to lean in to continue kissing you, he stayed back. His hands traveled down to your thighs, easing your legs from around his waist to set you gently on the floor. His fingers dipped underneath the thin band of your thong, dropping to his knees before you as he started sliding the material down your legs. And you had never felt so treasured, so adored as when he took each of your ankles in his hands, and gently slid the lingerie off of each foot before returning them back to the tile floor.
When he stood back up to his full height, he only left you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulled away again, moving towards the shower to start turning on the water. And while goosebumps appeared on your skin, no longer having his warm body to heat you, he did leave you with a nice view. Back muscles sculpted by an artist, muscular legs that stood strong and steady, and his boxers only helped accentuate his ass, tempting that little goblin voice in the back of your head that wanted to reach out and smack it…
He turned around after having tested the water, smiling sweetly as he took your face in his hands, kissing your cheek. “D’you want me to go set your clothes out while you get showered?” he asked, and you scrunched your nose in disappointment.
“You’re not gonna come with me?” His brows shot up on his head and he swallowed hard, clearly not having expected that question. “My legs are so shaky, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up by myself,” you whined playfully, your cheap trick at least earning you a grin.
He let out a breath in exasperation as he debated his answer. “You’re trouble,” he whispered, and you only giggled in response. “Alright, c’mon.”
You were maybe a little bit too giddy when you kissed him excitedly, reaching for his hand to try and pull him behind you as you scurried up to the shower. Bucky stood rooted to the spot, and when you turned to ask why, he was grinning as he cocked one eyebrow up in question.
“My legs are shaky, I can’t stand up by myself,” he taunted, and you scoffed as you tried to come up with another excuse.
“I- just for a few steps, thank you very much,” you shot back, and he laughed as he let your hand go.
“Go on,” he smiled, nodding towards the shower. “I’ll follow after you.” You looked at him for another moment, taking note of his almost antsy manner, and it probably shouldn’t have taken you so long to realize your request came with another first….
Those boxers were coming off.
You smiled sweetly as you turned to step through the sliding door into the shower, thoughts swarming your head about what was about to happen. Was he nervous? Was he eager? Was he big?
Stop it.
As you got settled underneath the warm stream of water, your legs began to tremble beneath you – both with anticipation of what was coming, but also from exertion. Your body was just barely managing to keep you upright with all the … exercise.
There was enough of a pause that you began to wonder what to do with yourself. You could only see a vague shape of him from the other side of the pebbled glass, but it wasn’t enough to be able to determine what he might be doing – or wearing, for that matter. You didn’t want to start washing yet, wanting to at least preserve your makeup until he had a chance to get in and get… situated. Instead you waited patiently, if not awkwardly, as the water beat against your chest.
Your heart almost leapt out of your chest when you heard him slide the shower door back just enough to let himself in, and you could feel the presence of his large frame entering the small space behind you.
Before you even had a moment to overthink anything, you felt him run his knuckles up your spine, and you shivered despite his warm touch. He fit both of his hands around your waist, his firm grip kneading your muscles as they wandered soothingly up your body. He slid them around your middle before leaning closer, kissing your shoulder before tucking into the crook of your neck.
Then his chest met your back. His broad shoulders crowded around yours, his body caging you in and wrapping you up in his body heat… and his boner rested against the small of your back as he closed in around you.
Fuck… this wasn’t going to be a quick shower.
“Hi” his deep voice broke the silence. You hummed in amusement as you leaned into him, resting one hand over his and lifting the other to play with the stubble on his jaw.
“Hi,” you lilted back, capable of little else. You rested your head against his shoulder, and you soaked up the feeling of having him so close to you, tangled in each other. It was domestic, peaceful even.
Except for the fact that you were already working yourself up again with his dick pressed into your back.
“I uh, I just want to say that this isn’t- I’ve been like this since before you got home, so…” he started, nudging the tip of his nose into your skin, and couldn’t help the smile that rose to your cheeks. “We can just ignore it, I don’t want you to think that… I- it’ll go away eventually.”
“Bucky, have you been hard for over an hour?” you asked, your voice smooth and silky. You couldn’t help yourself… He nodded gently as he continued kissing your neck, sucking lightly just under your jaw.
“I found that string and I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, and you could feel your already swollen center start lighting up again, slick with another round of arousal.
“Why didn’t we do anything about it?” you asked seductively, leaning back and rolling your hips to try and rub up against him. His grip tightened on you – which meant that you had accomplished exactly what you tried to – and he stood back up to his full height, keeping you close to his chest as he looked down at you with a cocked brow.
“I’m sorry, what do you think we’ve been doing?” he sassed, and you scoffed.
“That was just for me, you didn’t get anything out of it,” you retorted, but where you expected him to agree with you, he only grinned.
“I would beg to differ,” he whispered, bringing goosebumps to your skin. The thought of him getting off on eating you out, rutting into the mattress while he had his head between your legs…
You turned in his grasp so you could wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your wet, naked bodies together as you pulled him down for a kiss. You could tell you’d caught him by surprise, but he was quick to catch up to your hungry advances, and you let him in the second his tongue licked at your lips. As your mouths moved together desperately, your bodies did as well, your hips rocking against him as the weight of his erection pressed into your stomach.
His hands gripped your hips firmly again, pulling you with him as he took a step back, leaning against the back wall of your small shower. Your legs slotted together, intertwining with his as the two of you got as close to each other as physically possible, putting most of your weight in his hands.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, taking a moment to calm his heavy breathing before he spoke. “I thought you said we didn’t have time for anything else,” he breathed, the blue of his eyes only a thin rim surrounding his lust-blown pupils. You shrugged your shoulders in response, and he grinned as he shook his head. “We’re gonna be late,” he reasoned.
“They can wait for us, they’ll manage,” you countered, sliding one hand from around his neck and trailing down the planes of his body. Over his large pecs – which, with your remaining willpower, you did not smack – and down the hard ridges of his abs. “You’ve waited long enough.” His eyelids fluttered as he watched your hand move across his body, and when you looked down to meet his gaze, you probably should have been embarrassed by the sound that left you.
Bucky was big.
His cock was long and thick, enough that you knew it would be a comfortably wonderful stretch, and his uncut tip was practically begging for attention. You took your time bringing the hand that had explored his body to his shaft, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he simply watched as you wrapped your fingers just beneath his head to pull away the foreskin.
Bucky took a sharp breath as you revealed the red, leaking tip, swollen with his need for release. Your gaze snapped up to his face when he did, taking great pleasure in watching his eyes shut, his head softly hitting the shower wall as you brushed your thumb under the sensitive spot below his head.
“Shit,” he sighed, sending heat directly to your core. “That feels- fuck, that feels good.” You smiled sweetly at his words, leaning in to attach your lips to his collarbone to press soft kisses there, collecting some of his precum on your thumb to spread down the length of him.
You started your slow movements, the silky skin of his cock slid through your fingers easily with the help of his arousal, but his hands were restless. The warm hand at your hip was roaming your skin, unsure of where to go while the vibranium of his left hand found your breasts and squeezed. You gasped in response as he let out a long groan, encouraging you to speed up your pace.
You were enchanted by the sounds he was making, his deep voice impossibly sexier when it was laced with blissful pleasure. You twisted your wrist as your grip moved up and down his length, eliciting even more of a reaction out of the super soldier as you worked his erection with careful attention, his rumbling moans as good an indication as any that you were making him feel just as good as when he was devouring you not too long ago.
Bucky’s restless hands continued wandering, his left one now grabbing you behind your neck after massaging your breasts, and lifting you head up so that he could look at you. His right hand slipped around the curve of your ass, using his grip as leverage to pull you closer, and slamming his pink lips against yours again. His tongue danced with yours while his rough hand explored you, traveling lower to wrap your leg around his hip, trailing down the inside of your thigh when he was confident that you weren’t going anywhere.
The hand on his dick stopped momentarily when he slipped one thick finger through your folds, your walls immediately clenching around him. You let out a whimper and he swallowed the sound as he pumped his finger inside you, doing your best to keep jerking him off… But when he pushed a second finger through your slick, you involuntarily tightened your grip, causing him to break the kiss with a grunt.
“It’s been so long, I don’t- shhhhit, I’m not gonna last,” he whined, eliciting another hum as you brushed your thumb over his tip.
“It’s okay, baby,” you assured, using the arm draped around his neck – keeping you upright as he continued fucking you on his fingers – to rub soothing patterns into his skin, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Just relax, Buck, tell me what you need.”
“I- just faster, please.”
You gripped his cock a little tighter and did exactly as he asked, speeding up your pace and being sure to hit that sweet spot just under his swollen head. The faster you went, the faster he pumped his fingers into you, and after cumming on his tongue twice, it wasn’t going to take long for him to get you there again.
He smashed his lips into yours once more, but you were so drunk on each other that neither of you could manage much more than lingering kisses as you put all of your focus in getting the other off. Grunts, whines, moans, and whimpers of pleasure floated like music around you, unsure of who made what sound. His fingers reached that spot inside you that made you see stars, and you switched to short and fast strokes at his tip.
“Honey, I’m- I-” he warned, his cock throbbing in your hand.
“Cum with me, James,” you whispered, clinging to him like your life depended on it.
He pumped his fingers a little bit faster, you matched his pace, and with a few more strokes both of you were gone. This third climax hit you softer than the other ones, your body only having so much left to give, but it allowed you to watch in awe as the man in your hands fell apart.
Bucky let out a choked cry, his hands stilling inside of you as he rested his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight as he let the sensations consume him. You slowed your hands and kept your fingers circled around his head, prolonging his climax as you leaned forward enough to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss as you rode out your highs together. His dick pulsed in your hand as he shot ropes of cum over your hand and across his heaving chest, a low satisfied hum vibrating through him as the tension left his large frame.
When his spend trickled down at his tip, he slumped against the wall, inadvertently taking you with him. You let go of his already softening dick to cling to his shoulders as you fell into his hold, his fingers sliding out of your tired pussy to wrap his arms around your middle and hold you close.
“We should have done that in New York,” he breathed, making you laugh as you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his amusement through his chest.
“You could have carried me to the shower with you, I would have been more than willing,” you lilted, placing barely there kisses across the base of his neck.
He squeezed you a little bit tighter. “Ohhh don’t tease me like that right now,” he warned. “I’ve discovered the serum gave me a uh… a very quick recovery time. We don’t exactly have time for another round,” he explained, and you had a hard time keeping a straight face at his predicament.
“Oh, but it’s so tempting,” you teased, and when you lifted your head up off of his shoulder you were met with a stern glare. “Alright I won’t… Bit of a blessing and a curse, I take it?”
“Apparently,” he huffed indignantly, rolling eyes as you hummed in amusement. You gave him one more kiss on the cheek before standing back up on your own two feet, and his eyes watched you carefully.
“Well, we’re gonna be super late as it is, let’s not give them too much satisfaction,” you muttered, earning you a cocked grin and a small amused huff. “C’mon, help me reach the shampoo and I’ll wash your hair,” you offered, watching his face soften at your request before he gripped you tight and stood to his full height.
He wasn’t wrong about a quick recovery, already practically back to normal as he walked you back into the stream of hot water. And even though you’d been through more orgasms in the last hour or so than you’d ever had in a single day – at least with a man’s assistance – you wanted to live in this sweet moment for the rest of time. Savoring the feeling of holding him close, being so intimate with each other as you lathered soap into his skin, and relishing in his firm touches as he washed your back.
Showering with Bucky was definitely going on the list of things to start doing more often. That, and a few other things…
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