Chapter 1: Snap Out Of It
He comes in every morning at 7am exactly. And you've had your eye on him for a while. 800 words.
This song was written to "Snap Out Of It" by Arctic Monkeys, so you should listen to it whilst reading it. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
You sat in Starbucks, staring at your laptop, staring at the empty Word Document. You usually came here to write in the morning, but you usually ended up people-watching instead. You watched young couples come in for their morning coffee date, watched kids ask their parents for sweets, watched hot guys with what looked like–you swore to God that guy had a metal arm.
So when you meant people-watching, you generally meant thatguywiththemetalarmwhocomesinandordersagrandeblonderoastcoffeeat7ameverymorning-watching. Which you considered to be the same thing.
He came in the same exact time, every single day, whether in sweatpants and a t-shirt with mussed up hair, or an expensive-looking suit.
The baristas knew him, you knew that much. You’d learned his name, too. Bucky, it seemed. Strange name, you thought. Maybe it’s a nickname, you thought. Snap out of it, Y/N, you thought. You came here to write, not to daydream about some guy who doesn’t know you exist, you thought. Okay, you thought.
Your fingers brushed the keyboard for a second, and you sighed, looking at the clock in the corner. 6:58. You smoothed over your hair. What’s the point? He’s not going to notice you, you thought. Snap out of it, Y/N, you thought.
7:00. The door chimed, and he walked in, donning his usual walk laced with swagger, today in a hoodie and jeans, looking slightly out of breath. Slightly.
“Morning, Bucky,” said one of the female baristas. You felt your cheeks run red. Snap out of it! you thought.
“Good morning, Anna,” he said, smiling at her.
“The usual?” she asked, blushing slightly. Your chest burned with jealousy. Oh God, what’s wrong with me? you thought.
“Yep,” he replied, pulling a gold card out of his pocket and handing it to her. Their fingers brushed. You fixed your eyes back on your computer screen. Your fingers tapped the keys quickly, and you glanced up toward where he was waiting for his coffee.
I am waiting for
Bucky at 7:00 am
To walk in and buy
His grande blonde roast
So I can stare at him whilst
I pretend to work
And only hope that he comes
In every morning
To see me, just as I come
In every morning
To see him
You usually didn’t do poetry. You had no idea where that came from.
Your mind quickly began to wander again, thinking of a second verse. Suddenly, your mind was pulled out of its trance when the chair across from you was pulled out, and the subject of said second verse sat down in it.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” you said.
“You come here every morning, and you sit here, by your laptop, and write?” he asked you suddenly. A millions thoughts raced through your head, the most prominent being Snap out of it, Y/N.
“I try to,” you replied.
“What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly, like a puppy would. You just wanted to kiss him. Snap out of it! you thought.
“Writer’s block,” you said, shaking your head slightly. “Inspiration is hard to come by, these days,” you then said, mimicking the accent of a cowboy in an old movie, set in the 1800s. He laughed, and you smirked.
“So, what’s your name?” he asks. Then, before you can reply, he says, “You may already know mine, from listening to the baristas. I’m James, but you can call me Bucky.”
He’s introducing himself, you thought. He wants to be my friend, you thought. Or maybe more, you thought. Snap out of it, you thought.
“Y/N. Nice to officially meet you, Bucky,” you said, positive you were blushing like mad.
“Nice to officially meet you, Y/N,” he replied in a flirty tone. At least, it sounded like a flirty tone... Snap out of it, you thought.
“So, I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me tonight?”
You raised your eyebrows. Or don't, you thought. “Yeah, that’d be...that’d be great,” you said, the red in your cheeks surely showing now if it wasn’t already. You were trying to hold back that you were smiling like an idiot.
But you didn’t need to, really. Because he was smiling like an idiot too.
“So, I’ll meet you...here at 7?”
“At 7,” you repeated.
Nearly twelve hours later, you returned to where you’d previously been, typing the second verse of the poem into your phone.
I am waiting for
Bucky at 7:00 pm
To walk in and take
Me out to dinner
So I can stare at him whilst
He tells me stories
And only hope that we go
On many more dates
And that he’d want to
Continue to see me
As I’d want to continue
To see him
Chapter 2: Though The Stars Are Nice Too
Bucky and reader stargaze on a rooftop. 511 words.
I wrote this whilst--guess what? Sitting on my roof! I don't have a music suggestion this time, but thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
You swung your leg over the window frame, making sure you had secure footing before ducking your head outside and standing up.
“Okay, hand me the blanket,” you said, reaching your arm inside. Bucky handed you the pile of fabric and you layed it out over the sandpapery shingles. He managed to squeeze through the tiny window as well, watching as you layed the fluffy quilt down. The slant of the roof was just enough so that you wouldn’t slide, but could still see the sky clearly. You jauntily sat down on the blanket, patting the space next to you. “Come on.”
He complied, leaving absolutely no space between you and wrapping his left arm around your shoulders. You felt a breeze blow across your face, and pulled the massive quilt up over yours and Bucky’s shoulders. You both laid down and looked up at the clean sky, peppered with glowing lights.
Snuggling closer to him, you started naming off stars and constellations, telling short stories that went along with them, like the time you got lost on a night hike and had to follow Polaris back to your camp, or how your childhood best friend was named after one of the constellations; Lyra.
He told you about how he’d miss how clear the night skies were in Brooklyn when the only stars in Nazi Germany were the bombs, about how when he and Steve were kids, they’d climb on top of their building’s roof and sit and watch the stars.
You smiled, loving that he was remembering things, loving that he was the one talking and telling stories for once. “I love the sound of your voice,” you said to break a silence.
He replied by looking at you and smiling shyly, then looking back up at the sky and saying, “Out here, you look around, and there’s just such...incredible beauty. I mean, I wouldn’t even be able to describe it to someone, that’s how beautiful it is out here. There aren’t even words. And then there’s the stars and the sky. Those are pretty nice too.” He grinned, looking back over at you.
This earned him a hushed laugh and a soft kiss from you. Your hand tangled in his hair as your lips pressed to his and you broke off the kiss quickly, pressing your forehead to his.
“I’m glad you’re mine. I love you,” you murmured.
You felt your stomach flutter as he returned the “I love you,” with your name tagged at the end.
Two years and you still felt like a schoolgirl with a crush around him, which you supposed wasn’t really a bad thing. Bucky pulled you closer to him, so that you were almost on top of him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. You felt his arms tighten around your waist as he went over how he needed you in any and all ways possible.
You wished moments like this would last forever.
Chapter 3: Going Cold
Based on my popular-ish text post, "bucky barnes is the kind of guy that you cuddle and drink hot chocolate with on a snowy day then proceed to let the hot chocolate go cold as you fuck him against the couch" (like 500 notes). Porn with slight plot, 1124 words.
I forgot what this was written to--probably different songs, but "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy is always a good choice for smut. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
“Damn it, I had to go to the store,” you say, looking out your window to see nothing but swirling whiteness. You run your hand through your hair and sigh, falling back onto the sofa.
You look over to Bucky, smiling upon seeing him like you always did. You thought it was cheesy but you couldn’t help it. He was–as incredibly cheesy as this was, as well–the light of your life.
“Oh, nothing too important. Oatmeal, cinnamon, stuff like that. I was going to bake today. But I guess not.” You ran your hand through his newly-cut hair, short like you’d seen in the pictures of him back in 1945. He leaned against your touch like a cat would and you giggled.
“Is this another sign?”
“Of you wanting a cat,” you said very matter-of-factly.
“No, I just love you, and love being around you, and being touched by you.” He gently took hold of your hand, which had previously been resting on his cheek, and moved it in front of his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You blushed and pulled your hand back to your mouth, kissing it where he did and keeping eye contact. He smiled and leant in, kissing you. His lips were soft and tasted like coffee.
The kiss was short and when it ended you smiled, looked outside and back to him, then suggested, “Movie marathon?”
Halfway through the second Lord of the Rings film, just as Merry and Pippin found the Ents, an idea popped into your head. You didn’t want to unwrap yourself from Bucky’s arms, but you were about to fall off the couch anyway. Nudging him with your shoulder gently, he let go of you and you got up, pressing a kiss to his forehead and assuring him that you’d be right back.
Ten minutes later, you came back with two warm mugs of hot chocolate. Bucky’s face broke into a grin as you handed him one and sat down next to him. He took a sip and looked over at you, saying, “This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had. Have I told you that I love you?”
“You told me like fifteen minutes ago, Bucky, I know. And for the record, I love you too,” you said, setting your mug down on the coffee table and kissing him. He kissed you back, and moved to put his mug on the table too as he pulled you closer to him. Bucky’s lips tasted less coffeelike and more chocolatey and popcorny than the last time you kissed him, but they were just as soft. You could hear orcs yelling in the background as you lost yourself in his touch. The fairy lights strung around your apartment made everything about the day warmer, and the room even smelled warm. Bucky’s hands clutched your waist tightly and you swung your leg over him, straddling his lap. What was at first an innocent kiss had evolved, the kiss had gotten hungrier, more passionate.
He swept his tongue along your bottom lip, and you let him in, your breath becoming his, your tongue pressing against his. He bit your lip gently and you couldn’t stop a quiet moan from escaping. Your hands moved from their station in his hair to down over his shoulders to down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Slipping your hands under hem of the grey t-shirt, you hoped that he understood your implication. You felt him nod slightly and you pulled the shirt over his head, thinking that you’d only break the kiss for a second. Apparently you were wrong, however, when he pulled your shirt over your head and throwing it across the room.
You decided not to place your lips on his mouth when they returned to him, however, so they found a place on his neck. You kissed and bit and sucked on his neck, unconsciously grinding on him. The only things that were keeping you from him were two pairs of sweatpants and two pairs of underwear.
You heard a muffled groan from him; felt his throat vibrate with a moan when you realised that you were grinding on him. You made note of this whilst sucking a love bite onto his neck and made a more obvious show of being a tease, untangling one of your hands from his hair to rub him through his pants. You finally moved back up to his lips, kissing him long, hard and messily before working his sweatpants over his hips.
After both of your pants had been discarded, and you were both just in your underwear, and you in your bra, which he reached up to unclip, but you stopped his hands, placing them on your shoulders instead and unclipping in yourself and flinging it off to god-knows-where along with the rest of your clothes. He attempted to slide his hands down from your shoulders but you grabbed his wrists, shutting him down with a smirk and a simple “Wait.”
You’d never topped before, so you had no idea what to do from here, how to get your underwear off smoothly or sexily. There wasn’t really a way in this situation, was there? You swung your leg over him and stood up briefly to de-panties yourself and watched him do the same to himself.
You climbed back on and lowered yourself onto him, earning a long, low groan from Bucky along with a “Finally,” and you exhaled hard as you started riding him. His left hand came up to rub your clit slowly as you approached climax, and you elicited a high involuntary whine. You were about to tell him that you were about to come when he stole the words out of your mouth, but not in the right language. You came, hunching over and burying your face in his the crook of his neck, and he hit his peak soon after, moaning slurred Russian as he did.
You were sweaty messes, heaped up on the sofa. You made note of telling him that his arm needed a cooling system, because it was incredibly hot in the room, which made him laugh. he made note of mentioning getting a little fan in his palm like Stark, which made you laugh.
After you gathered all of your clothing again, save for the shirts which you absolutely could not find, you cuddled up again on the sofa and finished The Two Towers. Before you played The Return of the King, however, Bucky brought attention to the hot chocolate mugs, which couldn’t be considered more than chocolate milk at this point.
“Must’ve gone cold whilst we were getting hot,” you said.
“Must have,” he said, smiling at you.
Chapter 4: Training
You're helping Bucky adapt to life as a regular 21st century human being. And part of that is video games. 606 words.
I literally wrote this to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack, so you could listen to that? Other than that, I don't have anything for this chapter, sorry! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
“Shit, Bucky, hit him!”
“I can’t! He’s–”
“Then let me do it, come on!”
“No, it’s okay, I got him now. Ah, fuck! He’s– again–”
“Just let me do it!”
“Thank you!” you yelled, frantically mashing buttons to defeat Shang Tsung, the opponent in your your boss battle. You smashed in the YYY ice blade combo over and over again.
“Do the combo!” Bucky suggested.
“I can’t. The bar has to fill up first. I’m almost– fuck! He– I’m almost dead!”
“Let me help.” You exhaled roughly, your hands sweating from the heat of the controller, and you pressed LB, switching Sub-Zero for Scorpion on the screen in front of you.
“Alright, I got th–”
“FINISH HIM,” the game commanded, and Shang Tsung jumped into the air and kicked Scorpion’s face in.
You dropped your controller and glared at Bucky.
You sighed, unfolding your legs from under you, running your hand through his hair as you stood.
“That’s okay. You’re still in training.”
“How long are we going to be playing? It’s almost two in the morning.”
His reminder made you yawn. “Until we beat this asshole. More caffeine?”
You’d been training him in being a normal human being, and part of that was video games. Yesterday you’d taken him to your favourite game shop and told him to find something that he wanted to learn and you’d buy it. Rather ironically, you thought, he chose Mortal Kombat. The two of you had been ‘training’ since 4 p.m., and you’d had a pizza break at 6, but other than that, it had been 10 straight hours of screaming and button mashing in your shared apartment.
You came back a few minutes later with two bottles of Coke and noticed that Bucky was falling asleep.
“Barnes! Up, let’s go!” you yelled, throwing the bottle at him. He shook awake, looking disoriented.
“Right...” he mumbled. “Game.”
“Drink it, cause we’re gonna keep going until you get better,” you said, nudging the bottle at him, “And I don’t want you falling asleep.”
“I’m tired, Y/N,” he said in a whiny voice, giving you puppy eyes.
“I know, I know, sweetheart. Just wait until MarioKart. Rainbow Road’s a bitch.”
He sighed. “Can we at least take a short rest?”
You tried hard to resist his puppy look, but to no avail. You set your own caffeine down and snuggled into Bucky’s arms on the sofa, your face burying itself in its usual spot in the crook of his neck and your arms snaking their way around his waist. You both fell asleep almost instantly, the Mortal Kombat theme drawling on in the background.
You woke up to the same music, and bright sunlight coming in through your window. You groaned, sitting up and stretching, nudging your boyfriend in the ribs to wake him. He let out a soft groan and yawned as you said, “That was a bit more than a short rest.”
“Wh–” he barely began his question before you answered it.
“Quarter til ten.” You yawned yourself. You couldn’t believe how tired you were.
“You need some waking up, doll?” Bucky asked you, his lips finding their way to his neck.
He pulled you under him and his lips worked your neck, but you grabbed his face and pulled him into a sweet kiss. Alas, it only lasted a few seconds, for you pulled him away from you and whispered in his ear, “You know, you might get out of training for the day if you go down on me.”
And boy, did he got out training for the day.
Chapter 5: Maybe We Should Have Pillow Fights More Often
A playful game of hide and seek (with a former Soviet assassin--how could you think that was a good idea?) turns into a playful game of tag, turns into a pillow fight, turns into a makeout session, turns into sex. 717 words.
I mainly listened to various songs by Fall Out Boy, as they're a good band to write smut to. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated.
You walked the hallway for the fifth–or was it the sixth?–time. You cursed your past self for thinking that playing hide and seek with a former assassin would be a good idea. You’d been wandering around your apartment for the past twenty minutes. Wherever he was, it was a damn good hiding spot. You sighed, making your way to your shared bedroom and sitting down on the edge.
“Okay, I get it. You’re the best at hide and seek. I give upppp!” you yelled, lying back on the bed. Upon looking up, you saw a certain metal-armed boyfriend of yours on the ceiling. He was grinning widely. “Okay, how the hell–” You cut yourself off, shaking your head and watching as he landed flawlessly on the floor. “I don’t even want to know. This is unfair.”
“Oh, come on, that was only round one,” he said cheekily, winking at you. Clearly he wanted to play again so he’d win again.
“I don’t care. You know what we should play, though?”
“Tag!” you yelled, tapping his arm and taking off running down the hallway. You were grateful that there was more than one doorway in almost every room. You quickly swerved through the rooms, passing by him swiftly and teasing, “And you call yourself a master assassin! You can’t even catch your girlfriend!”
You quickly ran toward the bedroom, rolling under the bed so he wouldn't be able to see you. It took him an entire minute to figure out that you had to be in this room somewhere. He looked in the closets and everywhere else that there was a you-sized space, but to no avail. You had to hold in a giggle from under the bed so that you wouldn’t give away your hiding spot.
It seemed like he seriously couldn’t find you. He was standing next to the bed. You smirked to yourself as you reached out and grabbed his ankle.
“Holy shit!” he yelled, jumping away from the bed.
You were almost laughing too hard to function, but managed to roll out from under the bed. You stood, or attempted to, as you were doubled over in laughter.
“This guy! You were an infamous assassin!”
“I just...lost my touch, probably,” he said shamefully.
“You were just hanging from the ceiling ten minutes ago!”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He leaned against the bed, reaching across subtly to grab a pillow off it, and then suddenly hit you hard in the face with it.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?”
You grabbed a pillow and tried to hit him back, but you couldn’t reach him across the bed. You kneeled on top of the fluffy duvet and managed to get a hard strike to his shoulder. He overdramatically fell over onto the bed, and you tackled him, swinging your leg over his hips and pinning his hands above his head.
“Oh no, I’m trapped!” he said mockingly.
“Indeed you are,” you said, leaning down to kiss him on the lips. He kissed back with more fervor than you’d expected, and one innocent kiss turned into clothes on the floor and Bucky on top of you, his lips working your neck expertly as he slowly thrust into you.
You moaned as he started kissing the sweet spot on your neck and started kissing down toward your collar bone, his left hand pinning your hands above your head, and his right holding your waist. Your hands had tangled themselves into his hair, pulling gently and earning moans from him. Bucky absolutely loved having his hair pulled.
He started nipping at your neck, and you groaned, the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach. “Nnngh, Bucky, I’m close...”
“I know, I can feel it, doll,” he murmured into your neck, his Brooklyn accent coming through thickly. His right hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing in slow circles.
“Nnnngh, fuck, Bucky, God...” you whined, your orgasm hitting you hard. He followed not a second after, burying his face in your neck as he let off a low groan.
When you were both done, he pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Though you didn’t mind the weight.
“Maybe we should have pillow fights more often,” he said breathlessly.
“Maybe we should.”
Chapter 6: The Sad Trash Hobo Kind of Hot
You meet a homeless guy on your way home from work, and trust him more than a normal person should. 750 words.
Pretty sure I listened to more Arctic Monkeys whilst writing this. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated.
You could not believe your boss. You kicked a trash bin hard as you walked back to your apartment in the rain. “God! Who the hell talks like that to someone?” you asked yourself. “I’m trying my goddamn hardest, don’t you fucking tell me that it was my fault that you lost all your fucking money,” you grumbled.
“Maybe you should find a new job,” a voice said from below you. A man in a soaked-through hoodie and a beanie sat on the sidewalk, as far under the short over-run of the roof above him as possible. He looked miserable. And familiar.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Bad day at work?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you mumbled. Why were you talking to him?
“Yeah, the place I work and live just crumbled under my feet, so now I’m out here,” he said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you want…” You couldn’t believe you were doing this. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I‒I’m fine,” he said, sounding unsure.
“Really. You look miserable. You could come inside, clean yourself up, get some good rest.”
He hesitated, finally settling on, “Okay.”
“Great, come on, I’m right here.”
He stood, and you noticed, actually looking at his face for once, that he was really hot. Like, the sad trash hobo kind of hot.
You opened the door, going up three flights of stairs before reaching your floor. Unlocking the door and going in, you noticed that he was slightly shivering. It was cold out there. You motioned to the sofa, saying, “Just chill there for a second, I’ll be right back.”
You left, putting on your pajamas, which consisted of sweatpants and a tank top, and bringing a pair of sweatpants and an old too-big band shirt for him. “Change into this. You’ll sleep a lot better, trust me. He nodded, starting to strip right in front of you. Your eyes widened and you spun on your heel, telling him that you’d be in your room when he was done.
He walked in a few minutes later and you were sitting up in bed on your laptop, furiously typing a blog post about the hot guy you found in the street. You quickly finished it, posting it and shutting your laptop, setting it on your bedside table.
“Could I…could I sleep in here?”
You had no clue why you trusted him so much, but you did, and it was terrifying. “Yeah, sure.” He sat on top of the covers, still shivering slightly. “Hey, you want some extra blankets?” He nodded, starting to seem like more of a victim and less of a shady homeless guy now. You rolled out of bed to grab some extra blankets out of your closet, handing a stack of three or four to him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, under his breath.
“Mmhm.” You laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling as he settled himself in. “I never asked your name,” you said.
He seemed visibly uncomfortable, shifting as he wrapped the blankets around him. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice.
You looked at him. “…What do you mean?”
“The…organization I used to work for, well, they used me, they brainwashed me. I don’t really know who I am, or where I come from, or what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m scared, because I don’t know anything.”
You sat there, stunned an unsure what to say. So you said that. “I don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry.” Then, after a pause, “You…need a hug?”
He nodded slowly and you sat up, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry. My, uh, my boss today, he yelled at me, blamed me for a massive loss of capital in the company. But it was due to the big, you know, destruction of half the city, caused by Captain America, whatever he was doing. There haven’t been many details, have there? Anyway,” you said, pulling away from him, “he completely humiliated me, and I just want to…ugh.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, uh…I never got your name.”
“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, lying down under his 6 or so blankets.
“You’re welcome,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning off the light.
You were sure that you’d accidentally snuggle into him sometime during the night, as you were used to having the bed to yourself, but you were also sure that he wouldn’t mind.
Chapter 7: You Can't Just Fingerfuck Someone In The Middle Of a Movie
Just your average fingering-in-a-movie-theater fic, nbd. 458 words.
I probably listened to Fall Out Boy, because I always write porn to Fall Out Boy. You guys already know this. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
“Hnnn, Bucky, you can’t be–oh ghhhhhod,” you slurred, anchoring your hands in his hair. Why’d you wear a skirt? You were going to get caught.
Halfway through the movie you two had decided to see, Bucky decided that he’d rather spend his time doing other things. Namely, getting you off. He started by whispering everything he wanted to do to you in your ear as you tried to focus on the movie. Then, his lips were on your neck, and the second you let out a moan, laughing softly, he took it as permission to get between your legs.
You thanked your lucky stars that no one else was in the theater as he knelt in front of you, pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs as he pumped you with his fingers. His thumb flicked over your clit and your body spasmed. Consequentially, you yanked hard on his hair and he groaned.
You started to mumble words of how he should stop before you got caught. Though when he started rubbing your clit in slow circles as he scissored his middle and index fingers inside you, your words were completely lost. His mouth moved up to your belly, pressing soft kisses to the soft skin, whispering that this was so much more fun than the movie. There was a sudden absence of his mouth where it just was.
Then his lips were around your clit. You let out a whine, fisting your hands into his hands and managing, somehow, to stammer, “H-harder.”
He was sucking on your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. He was making a come-hither motion with his fingers inside you, brushing over your g-spot. And he was doing all of this in public.
“Nnngg, I’m close,” you whispered.
“Я бы надеюсь на это,” he muttered against you.
With that, your orgasm hit you like a train. He managed to pull it out for as long as possible. When you were done, you slumped back in your chair, breathing hard. “I cannot believe you!” you said, laughing.
“What, that wasn’t good enough?” He smirked cockily, sitting back in his seat.
“No, you just fingered me in a movie theater!” you said in a more hushed tone. You didn’t know why, no one else was in there.
“That is true,” he said matteroffactly.
"You can’t just fingerfuck someone in the middle of a movie!"
"What do you mean? I just did! Now, do you want to finish this–” He motioned to the movie, “–or bail and go back home and finish this?” He motioned to you and him.
You sighed, standing and grabbing him by the hand. He kissed you on the cheek as the two of you walked out. “I knew it.”
Chapter 8: Front Cover
Since Bucky's joined the Avengers, he's gained fame exponentially. And because you already have a fanbase, you become Hollywood's newest Hottest Couple. And everyone wants a front-cover shot. 932 words.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT I LISTENED TO I'M SO BAD AT REMEMBERING I WROT E THIS LIKE A MONTH AGO I'M OSRRY. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
“Good, now could you kiss Y/N?”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Bucky said, smiling. His arms locked around your waist and he pulled you close to him, pressing a kiss to your lips. Your arms were draped over his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.
Since Bucky had become a part of the Avengers, he’d gained a huge fanbase. And since you already had one, you’d become Hollywood’s Hottest Couple. You always rolled your eyes when someone said that. It sounded so “celebrity”. Though you suppose you both qualified as celebrities.
Though one of the best parts was that the two of you were always being asked to do photoshoots together, and with you already being a model, it made your job 300% better.
“Awesome, you guys are great. Now just be kind of cheesy, you know how the press loves that. Like, Y/N, grab onto James’s arm, the, uh, left one. And get all cheesy.”
You followed the photographer’s instructions, being as dorky as you could, hoping to god they wouldn’t actually use these.
“James, if you could stand behind Y/N and bury your face in the crook of her neck?” the photographer asked of him next. Bucky nodded, nonchalantly wrapping his arms around you as he followed directions. “And Y/N, put your hand on the side of his face.” You smirked, gently tangling your hand in his hair. He exhaled roughly, and you swore you heard a quiet groan.
“Perfect! Now, hold hands and rest your foreheads together. Stare into each other’s eyes, you know the deal. Get real romantic.”
Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours, the metal cool against your warm hands. You rested your forehead against his, smiling as your eyes met his blue ones, and you’d never felt so comfortable in your life. You heard the camera click. Then, suddenly, Bucky tilted his chin up and his lips met yours again. Your eyes widened in surprise, then fluttered shut in pleasure.
You loved when he gave you surprise kisses.
You heard a quiet squeal from the photographer as the camera clicked more. When he pulled away a few seconds later, he let his hands trail down your sides as he continued to stare into your Y/E/C eyes. When his hands were on your hips, he picked you up quickly and hauled you over his shoulder, laughing. “Bucky! Put me down!” you yelled, unable to keep from laughing yourself.
“Not a chance, darling,” he teased, his hands sliding up from where they were behind your knees to grab your ass.
He shushed you, turning so that the camera could see more than your bum. You had to admit, you were laughing hard at this point, as was the photographer. You, in turn, grabbed his butt and you heard the camera click.
You could not believe this guy.
And you were definitely going to marry him.
He finally put you down, and you punched him playfully in the shoulder. He kissed you on the top of your head in response. “You’re fired, Barnes. You have no idea how to photoshoot,” you said as you started walking toward the photographer.
“How to photoshoot?”
“Yes, how to photoshoot.”
“That’ll probably get front cover, you know,” the photographer said, laughing themself.
“Of course it will,” you muttered to yourself as Bucky shook their hand.
You thanked the photographer, and they thanked you two as you walked out.
“Where to?” Bucky asked as you exited the studio.
“I don’t know. It’s almost 10 ‘o clock, should we go home?”
“I was thinking more ‘get ice cream, then go to Central Park and stargaze’,” he said, threading his fingers between yours.
“Sounds wonderful. And by stargaze, you mean make out?”
“Not unless you want to. I mean, look up. It’s gorgeous out.”
You looked up, nearly gasping. The stars were never this prominent, with all the light pollution. “Ooh, you’re right. But what if we get recognized?”
“We’ll be fine, doll,” he said, walking to the ice cream shop located so conveniently across the street. You ate the treats you bought whilst you were walking to Central Park. When you got there, you thanked your lucky stars that there weren’t many people here. Five or six blankets littered the grass. Some people were walking the perimeter. But as long as you didn’t draw too much attention to yourself, you were sure that you’d be fine.
You sat down on the grass, your ice cream finished. Bucky asked what yours tasted like several minutes after you’d finished yours. “You got the same exact flavour, Buck.”
“I just want an excuse to kiss you again,” he admitted, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, and he mumbled softly against your lips, “And maybe I lied about watching the stars.” He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, and you let him in.
After a good ten minutes of making out, you pulled away, getting a whimper from Bucky (who was underneath you at this point). You kissed his cheeks and his forehead and his nose and all over the rest of his face.
He was absolutely beaming as you did this, and as you finished, he said, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Bucky. More than life itself,” you whispered as you kissed him once more.
Suddenly, you saw a flash of light. Several. “Fuck, paparazzi,” you said.
“Oh my god, this’ll make front cover!” the man yelled from somewhere in the bushes.
“Of course it will.”
Chapter 9: Sing, Sing, Sing
A oneshot set in the 40s, an "everything-was-okay-and-no-one-died" AU, basically. 1037 words.
I listened to mainly swing music, namely-- you guessed it, Benny Goodman. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
You smoothed over your dress, checking yourself out in the mirror. It was a cute thing, a brilliant red colour. It was rather simple; the sleeves capped your shoulders, it cinched at the waist (where there was a black belt) then flared out, hitting right past your knees. The important thing was that you could spin in it. It fit you well, and honestly, you thought you looked hot in it.
The only jewelry you wore was a necklace that you wore all the time anyway. A locket that Bucky had given you, that, when opened, had “I love you” written messily on a tiny white piece of paper. The locket had been his mother’s. The “I love you” was his.
“Hey, Y/N, you almost ready? We’re gonna be la–holy cow.” You couldn’t help but blush. His smile grew wider as his eyes travelled up and down your figure. “You look amazing,” he said slowly.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Sargeant,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. He’d worn his formal uniform for the event, as it was formal dress. You loved his uniform. If you could make him wear it all of the time, you certainly would.
“You kidding me? Almost every guy in there is gonna look like this. You, on the other hand, look like a damned princess.” His hands settled on the sides of your face. “And I love every inch of it. Especially those heels,” he said, nodding down to your bright red shoes that you’d picked to match your dress. He leaned in, whispering in your ear, “I’d like to see what you look like wearing just those.”
“Maybe later, hot stuff. Right now, well, we’d better go. It’s going to start in ten minutes.”
“Right, let’s go.”
You arrived a good two minute early, and music could be heard from outside the building. You made your way inside, and fortunately, Steve and Peggy were close to the outside, so you were able to find them quickly. And by the outside, you meant in the corner, kissing. Bucky motioned to them and you snickered under your breath.
“Hey!” the two of you said in unison upon approaching them.
They both pulled away hastily, trying to act casual. “So, cool thing Stark’s got going on here, huh?” you said, smirking.
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Steve said cooly.
“Really cool,” Peggy followed.
“I see you guys are already having a good time,” Bucky said, holding back a laugh.
“Mhm,” Steve and Peggy both nodded.
“So when does the main event start?” you asked, and in response, the lights dimmed.
“Now, apparently. Here, we saved you seats,” Peggy said, motioning to a table near the front. It was a small event, for S.H.I.E.L.D. members only. “I’ve got to go up, see you guys later!” She kissed Steve, trying to pull it out for as long as possible before she was called on stage by Howard for the second time.
They both talked about the founding of S.H.I.E.L.D. amongst other things. Just as they were finishing up, waiters started walking through, bringing food.
“Thank God,” Bucky whispered to you, “I’m starving.”
Peggy soon returned to her seat next to Steve. Everyone ate, then when waiters started taking the plates back, everyone migrated to the dance floor. They played plenty of fast swing music, and you and Bucky danced to nearly every song.
At the point at which you were breathing so hard you couldn’t speak, you decided to take a break. You sat back at the table and finally had some of the champagne that’d been served so long ago.
The band started playing Benny Goodman, though, and you instantly pulled Bucky up from where the two of you were sitting. He quickly downed the rest of the champagne he’d been idling on and followed you out.
You danced to the music fast, and heard Peggy grumbling, “Steve, that’s the second time you’ve stepped on my feet!” from nearby.
To which you heard Steve reply, “Sorry, darling, I told you I’m not good at this.”
The song was over faster than you expected, and the next few fast songs flew by just as fast. The band then played slower songs, and your right hand’s grip on Bucky’s left tightened, and he pulled you closer to him with his right arm. With him leading, you followed everyone else, spinning and swaying like royalty.
When the song had finished, you both left the dance floor, smiling. You stood over on the side, next to the wall. Bucky tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. “Listen to me, Y/N. I love you so much, doll, please don’t ever think otherwise.”
You opened your locket for him to see in response an he pursed his lips. “Just kidding, I love you too, babe, more than life itself.” You grabbed his face and pulled him into you, pressing a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. He kissed you back with equal fervor and slowly backed you into the wall. Your hands moved to the back of his–
From a female’s voice came, “Ahem.” and from a male’s came, “Looks like you’re the ones who need a room.”
“Well, at least we could hold it in for more than two minutes!” you countered.
“In my defense, look at her, come on!” Steve motioned to Peggy.
“Look at her!” Bucky motioned to you. “No offense, Peggy.”
Peggy only laughed.
“Anyway, we were just letting you guys know that we were leaving,” Steve chirped.
“Oh, so it didn’t stop at the start of the show, I see?” you teased.
Steve just shook his head, laughing.
“Alright, well, I think Y/N and I are gonna head back too. She has something to show me.” Bucky nodded to your shoes. “I’ll see you later, buddy,” he said, patting Steve on the shoulder and muttering, “Use protection,” in his ear.
Steve pushed him away teasingly, saying, “You too.”
And you all left the ball, music playing loudly behind you. And you remembered that night as the most fun you’d had in a long time. During the ball and after.
Chapter 10: I Just Wanted The Pain To Stop
TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND DEPRESSION AND SELF HARM.
A fic where Bucky talks about his depression and suicidal thoughts, etc. to a good friend. 953 words.
I listen to Pierce The Veil when writing sad/depression stories. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
It had been a week since you’d moved in with Bucky. You made sure to watch over him as much as you could. The first time he tried it, Steve was in the other room, so he found Bucky before the pills had started acting, and took him to the hospital. A week later, Steve had come up to you.
“I’m unbelievably busy, so I can’t take care of him. I need you to watch him so he doesn’t do it again. You wouldn’t have to pay any rent, that’s been covered. Please, Y/N, can you do this for me?”
“Of course. My other job isn’t going to well right now anyway. And it’s a full-time situation…exactly how much does S.H.I.E.L.D. pay for?”
“Everything. You do work for them, don’t you?”
“Okay, then I’ll be a full-time Bucky-watcher. Don’t worry, Steve, he’ll be okay,” you’d said, clapping him on the shoulder.
That was two months ago, and now you were sitting at the kitchen counter eating cereal, Bucky next to you drinking coffee.
“How’re you doing this morning, Buck?”
“Honestly, I’m having a good day, so far. I’m glad you’re here, it’ll keep me from doing something rash,” Bucky said, clearly still sleepy.
“Well, I’m glad. Do you want to do anything today, since you’re having a good day?”
“I dunno. I just woke up.”
“Alright. Well, tell me if you think of something,” you said, ruffling his hair then jumping off the barstool and padding over to put your bowl in the sink. “I’ll be in the living room.”
It took him a lot less time to finish his coffee than it normally did. It was Saturday, a lazy day. You were curled up on the sofa watching Netflix when he walked in, sitting next to you.
“You thought of anything?” you asked in a soft voice.
“Were you just going to watch Netflix?…” He paused. “I–If I hadn’t thought of anything?”
“Yeah, that’s about all.”
“I think I’ll just watch with you.”
“Okay, sounds good. You can cuddle up with me if you want.”
He smiled gently, a rare sight, though it was less and less of that as he recovered more. “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk first. We can cuddle after.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“How I’m feeling, how I’ve felt.”
“I–uh, you know feeling sad?”
“Well, how I’m feeling, with the depression and all, isn’t sad. It’s more of…empty. I didn’t…don’t feelanything. All the things I used to enjoy, I don’t care about them anymore. And as you know, sometimes I can’t even get out of bed, I just have no motivation for living. It’s the worst feeling in the world. It…it hurts so bad, Y/N. Being empty hurts worse than feeling. And, when I tried to…you know, I…I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the pain to stop. And I think it’s like that with a lot of people who try to kill themselves. They don’t want to die, they just want the pain to stop.”
“I’m not done. I think people go to suicide as an escape, because they don’t want to…they feel embarrassed by how they feel, how much they hate themselves, hate living. So they don’t open up, they don’t get help. Or, I mean, they just forget that people care. You forget that people care when you’re like this. Some people turn to hurting themselves, so that they can feel something. Because they’d rather feel physical pain than emotional pain. And I…that didn’t work for me, as you…as you know.” He lifted the right side of his shirt to reveal three long, horizontal scars along his side.
“I just, at one point, I didn’t feel loved. But now I do. So, I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, because I always think I’m being selfish, that I don’t thank you enough. Because it means so so much to me how much time you’ve spent protecting me and helping me recover. I’m…I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so, so sorry.”
He started wiping away tears, and you were on the verge of crying. You blinked your tears away, taking his face between your hands. “James Buchanan Barnes, also known by his loving friends as Bucky, I promise you that you are loved, and that people care. You don’t have to kill yourself for the pain to stop. Trust me, I know. I have firsthand experience. You only cause me pain when you think you aren’t good enough, when you think you aren’t loved. You were only selfish when you tried to take yourself away from us, because damn, that would’ve hurt. A lot. And you are very welcome. For everything. You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to feel like you matter, because you do matter. You matter to me, and to Steve, and to Natasha, and to Sam, and to every damn person on this planet because god dammit, you are important!! And it pains me to see you so sad, but sadness, or even emptiness, sometimes, is part of life. And you’re living it. I’m sorry you have to live it if you don’t want to, but I wouldn’t want you off this Earth for anything.”
At this point, Bucky was smiling through tears. “Thank you, Y/N.”
“You’re welcome, Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple and cuddling him into your side, ruffling his hair with your right hand. “Now, are we gonna cuddle and watch some Orange Is The New Black or what?”
Chapter 11: She's Beauty, She's Grace, She's Miss United States
A happy birthday fic for my homeboy Steve Rogers. Features Bi!Steve because our clan (bisexuals, pansexuals–that’d be me– and polysexuals) has taken him in as our own. No take-backs.
This was just random music, I think, other than Party In The USA. That's a good choice. Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
“In other news, it’s Captain America’s birthday today! Did you know that, John?”
You were still half-asleep, but your ears perked up.
“I did not, Meredith. Happy birthday, Cap! What is he, 97 now?”
“I think so!”
“Ah, well, I’m sure his friends have something special planned for him.”
“I’m sure they do. Now, I take you to the weather.”
You muted the peppy newscasters on the television, and set down your mug of coffee, glaring at Bucky next to you.
“Bucky, you didn’t tell me it was Steve’s birthday today.”
“…It’s Steve’s birthday?”
“You know, when the news knows before his best friend, it’s probably a bad thing.”
“No, no, no…what day is it?”
“The fourth of July.”
“Oh, dammit. It is Steve’s birthday. You wanna come with me to get him birthday donuts?”
There was an amazing donut shop right down the street from Stark Tower, and you always got donuts from there for people’s birthdays.
“Good morning!” an eager baker chimed from behind the counter. “What can I get you today?”
“I’m gonna need the most patriotic donut you have,” Bucky said.
The man raised his eyebrows. “Okay. We’ve got this one, with the stars and stripes and sprinkles, but I’m sorry, that’s about it.”
“You don’t have little tiny flags that you can stick in ‘em?”
“Damn. We’ll take it anyway. Actually, we’ll take all of them. All of your America donuts.”
“We have 27 on the rack, and more in back.”
“You heard him. We’re buying for Captain America himself, so it’s kind of important. You know how it’s his birthday today and all,” you said, trying to be shady and failing miserably.
“Oh! Of course!” he yelled, running to the back to get all the donuts. He brought you six pink boxes in total, and you gladly took two, Bucky carrying the other four. You were grateful of the short walk, and of the elevator. You reached Steve’s floor and entered his apartment, as you both had keys.
“You make him coffee, I’ll set up the donuts…and the camera,” you instructed in a hushed whisper.
“Ooh, I love when you give me commands.”
“Now is not the time, Mr. Everything’s-A-Kink-For-Me.”
You silently made your way into his room, propping the donut boxes up on his bed and getting your phone ready to record waking him up. He looked so cute when he was sleeping, and honestly, exhausted. His hair was everywhere, his mouth was slightly open.
Bucky poked his head in the door with a cup of coffee for Steve, and he set it on the nightstand. You then nodded to Bucky, and he started blasting Party In The USA. Steve sat up quickly, dazed, and groaned upon seeing the two of you and the entire array of donuts.
“She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s Miss United States!” You earned a laugh from Bucky. “Get up, birthday boy, we bought you a few hundred authentic American donuts.”
“Are you kidding me?” Steve grumbled as Bucky sang the chorus to Party In The USA loudly and off-tune.
“You know you love us,” you said, grabbing a donut and sitting on the soft mattress, slowly force-feeding it to him. He shamefully took a bite and nodded. Bucky sat down next to you.
“These from Alfonso’s?” Steve asked.
“Where else?” Bucky said, taking one for himself, and handing Steve his coffee.
“So, have any plans?” you asked, biting into a donut yourself. It was amazing.
“Uh, maybe find some way to get rid of all these donuts?”
“I am offended! Steven Grant Rogers, I bought you a few hundred donuts and you want to get rid of them?” Bucky gasped.
“Yeah, I don’t know, give ‘em to homeless people or something.”
“You are such a do-gooder. Imagine receiving donuts from Captain America. That would make my day,” you said.
“Oh, here.” Steve stuffed an entire donut into your mouth, and through your muffled whining, you were laughing a bit, desperately trying to chew the whole thing.
“I cannot believe you just shoved an entire donut in my girlfriend’s mouth. I want to try,” said Bucky, and Steve did just that. Crammed an entire donut in his mouth, though he was able to tackle it much quicker than you. He was swallowing when you were still chewing.
“That is ridiculous.”
“I am offended. Just because I beat you in a donut-eating contest doesn’t mean you have to insult me.”
“You sound like Tumblr, saying you’re offended all the time.”
“I’m doing it purposely to piss you off,” he said, kissing you. “Hey, Steve, you should pick up a girl later. I mean, it is your birthday, pal,” Bucky smirked.
“And I doubt any of them would turn you down. I mean, look at you,” you followed.
Steve shook his head. “I’ve got plans.”
“Oh, really? What’s her name?”
Steve looked as if he were going to say that it wasn’t a date, then his face flushed and he said, “Er, Vincent, actually.”
You and Bucky both whooped, knowing that he’d had his eye on Zoe from Tech for awhile, but you were both glad that he’d landed a birthday fuck.
“Okay, well, you get ready for that. We,” Bucky motioned to the two of you, “have a surprise party to plan for later. And eAT THE DONUTS!”
Chapter 12: I Still Think You're Beautiful
You tell Bucky about your depression and scars. 510 words.
I based the title and part of it off of Pierce The Veil's "A Match Into Water". Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
You pulled the covers over you as silent sobs racked your body, thinking you’d be safer under there, thinking you’d be okay if you no one could see you. You would have started playing music to distract yourself from the dangerous thoughts that roamed your mind, but you couldn’t find your iPod. So there you were, being attacked by your own mind whilst huddled in a ball under the sheets.
You heard humming from down the hallway and tried to suck up your tears and wipe your eyes as best possible. You didn’t want him to know that you’d been crying, you didn’t need him to know that you were in pain.
“Y/N?” he asked tentatively. “You okay?”
“Mhm, I’m…” But at the sight of his concerned face, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You paused, then shook your head vigorously, tears threatening to leak from your eyes again. “No, no, I’m not okay. I’ve had bad depression for so long and it hurts so bad and today I’m having a horrid day and nothing’s going right and I just don’t want to exist. I don’t want to move, I don’t want to have to explain everything and I don’t want to hurt you anymore so you should really just forget that I said anything and just leave me alone so I don’t hurt you.”
“Bucky, please. I don’t want to–”
“You’re not going to hurt me, not by talking to me. You’re only going to help yourself feel better, which, in turn, would help me feel better. I didn’t know you had depression, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s not your fault, you know. You don’t have to apologize. My brain just hates me.”
“If your brain hated you, you wouldn’t be here for me to love.”
“Is there anything else you needed to talk about right now?”
You hesitated, slowly pulling off your shirt to reveal scars. “They’re so ugly. They make me ugly.”
“Lay down on your back.”
You followed his commands and he crawled over you, pressing his lips gently to your lowest scar. “I still think you’re beautiful,” he mumbled against the raised skin. He repeated this over and over, murmuring, “I still think you’re beautiful,” over and over until you were smiling through tears, and until he had kissed every scar on your body.
“Were you just quoting lyrics?” you asked when he was done.
“Maybe.” He then kissed you gently on your lips. “I–I’m sorry, doll. I’m sorry you’re having a shit day. I’m sorry you think your brain hates you, I’m sorry for all the pain you feel. I wouldn’t ever want to lose my best friend, so don’t you dare leave me. Make me a promise? That you’ll always talk to me when you’re feeling bad?” he asked, sticking up his pinky finger. You hooked yours in his, and smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time.
“Now, what do you say I buy some ice cream and we watch Netflix?”
Chapter 13: I Came Out To Have A Good Time And Honestly I'm Feeling So Attacked Right Now
The creep that's been eyeing you for weeks down finally pushes it too far. Luckily, there's at least one guy who understands how to respect women. 605 words.
Whew, sorry I haven't updated in forever. I've been so busy writing that I forgot to post anything on AO3. Forgot what I listened to for this one, sorry.
You found yourself in the same bar every night. It had been six months exactly since your boyfriend had gone to war, and two months since you’d received the letter. We regret to inform you that Robert Novak has been killed in action. The past sixty nights had been spent in this same bar.
The last sixty nights had been spent being eyed by the same guy in the same bar.
He was tall, with dark, curly hair and chiseled features. His dark brown eyes would have been seductive if they didn’t spend most of the time boring into your breasts.
You watched him out of the corner of your eye tonight, your pulse speeding up when you saw him leave his seat and walk in your direction. You could smell the brandy on him from three feet away, and when his breath was hot on your neck, you wanted to vomit.
“What’s a pretty dame like yourself doing all by herself in a place like this?” he asked you.
“Please leave me alone,” you said sternly, not bothering to turn to face him. You heard a stool being pushed back behind you.
“I asked you a question. You all alone?”
“I came out to have a good time, and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now. Leave me alone.”
“I give a rat’s ass if you’re feeling attacked. What do you say we take this into the alleyway?” he muttered, hands sliding up your sides and over your breasts. He was suddenly yanked from you, and you heard a punch being landed. You spun quickly on your heel, and there was a man beating the shit out of the creep.
You stared in awe, your mouth slightly open, as he slammed punch after punch into the man’s face, screaming, “SHE SAID TO LEAVE HER ALONE!” into his bloody features. People were crowding around to watch, and you cringed in embarrassment. When you were sure that your assailant was nearly unconscious, you seemed to snap out of your trance, grabbing the man who was straddling the other, now surely unconscious man, and pulling him off him.
He spun to face you and you stared into his face, whispering “What was that for?” He was incredibly handsome, his eyes were bright blue, his hair messy.
“Y–you knew what he was going to do. I–I’m sorry.”
“Can we talk outside?”
“I–” He paused, looking unsure what to say. “Sure.”
As soon as the cold November air hit your cheeks, you layed it down. “What the hell? You don’t even know me and you’re defending me like I’m your sister or something? I don’t need protecting, thank you very much, and certainly not from–” You looked at him, and god dammit, he was giving you puppy eyes. You sighed. “I’m sorry. That was really brave of you, though certainly unnecessary. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem, really.”
“Hey, uh, actually...maybe you could buy me a drink sometime,” you suggested with a wink.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” he replied, laughing.
“If you want. I’m not stupid, I know that if you beat a man unconscious for a woman, you probably have a little crush. But who could blame you? Look at me.”
“You’re getting even cuter than I thought you already were, cocky girl.”
“It’s confidence. Only a little bit of arrogance. So, I’ll see you tomorrow, here, at 8?”
“Tomorrow here at 8.”
“Alright,” you said, planting a kiss on his cheek, “See you then, my dear knight in shining armour.”
“See you then, damsel in distress.”
You rolled your eyes as you walked home, smiling.
Chapter 14: Our Own Little Fairytale
Every kid is curious about how their parents met at one point. When your daughter, Stephanie, asks Bucky to tell the story, he delivers. Dramatically. 756 words.
Yooo...so my AO3 readers haven't met Stephanie yet. Stephanie is the kid I put daddy!Bucky oneshots, she's my favourite OC, I must say. I've written three or four more with her, that I'll get to posting soon. She's cool, don't worry. Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated!
“Daddy, daddy, wait!”
“Yeah, baby girl?”
“Can you tell me a bedtime story?”
“Sure, princess,” Bucky said, sitting down on the bed, sinking into the dark purple duvet. “What about?”
“Uh...” She made her thinking-face, tapping her chin dramatically. “OOH! Can you tell me how you met Mommy? And how you fell in love?”
Bucky laughed. “Sure, sweetheart. Well, you know how Daddy’s different from other Daddies, right?”
“Yeah, ‘cause Daddy has a big strong metal arm!”
“Yeah, well, the people who gave me this arm,” Bucky clapped his left arm, “made me do really bad things, and I was really kind of messed up in the head after, so I ran away. And then Mommy found me and she took me to Uncle Steve, and they helped fix me up. And from the moment I saw Mommy, I thought, ‘Wow, she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!’”
“And so I told her, when I was feeling more like myself, I told her that she was the prettiest girl in the world and I asked her out on a date.”
“And what’d she say?” you daughter asked excitedly.
“Well, at first she said, ‘Bucky, you haven’t slept in a week, you’re delusional!’” He mocked your voice. “And I said ‘Okay, but if I wake up and you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, which you will be, will you go on a date with me?’”
“And then what’d she say?”
“She said that if she was still the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen when he woke up, she’d go on a date with me.”
“Well, I went to sleep, slept for three days straight. She talked to Uncle Steve when I was asleep, asked him if I actually thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. And Uncle Steve, being my best friend, of course, said that I’d been thinking about her all the time since they’d found me, and wouldn't shut up about her. And you know what Mommy said?”
“That she thought about me all the time too. That she had a big ‘ol crush on me. But, of course, everyone does.”
Your daughter giggled loudly, and you heard her from down the hallway in the bathroom where you were brushing your teeth. As soon as you finished, you went to her room to see what was going on.
“–and then she shook me awake, because Mommy didn’t watch Sleeping Beauty and doesn’t know how to wake your true love up–”
“Like Prince Phillip did when he kissed Aurora?”
“Like Prince Phillip did, right. And then she asked me if she was still the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and of course I said yes, and she kissed me and said that Uncle Steve told her about the big ‘ol crush I had on her, and she said that she had a big ‘ol crush on me too.”
“And then I gave him a bunch more big ‘ol kisses,” you said from the doorway.
“Mommy! Daddy was just telling me a bedtime story!"
You smiled at her.
"Yes, and it's past bedtime, young lady. You'd better get to sleep," you said in a mock nanny voice. "Goodnight, Stephanie."
"Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight, sweetheart," Bucky said, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
You turned to Bucky, starting down the hallway toward your bedroom. "So you finally decided to tell her?"
"At her request, actually."
"Weird. Usually she just wants a plain old fairytale."
"We have our own little fairytale. Starring you as the gorgeous princess, and me as the daring prince," he began. Then, muttering the next part under his breath, "and HYDRA as the villain..."
"And it turns out switched this time, isn't it? I'm the one who saved you. I'm the gorgeous, yet brave princess that fought the dragon for you."
"Only because the dragon had kidnapped me."
"Yeah, well, that won't happen again. I took care of it. Don't worry, dear prince," you said, clapping him on the shoulder, "I've got you."
"Actually, princess," he said, suddenly picking you up and holding you like he did on your wedding day, "I've got you." You laughed.
He carried you inside your room, throwing you down on the bed and crawling over you. "Now, isn't the rule generally that once you save the princess, you get to have your way with her?"
"You know, I've never heard that, but I like the sound of it."
Chapter 15: Three Times Natasha Was An Overprotective Sister And One Time She Wasn't (Almost)
Your sister was cool. Hella cool. On-the-Avengers kind of cool. Unfortunately, with Natasha's 'hella cool' trait came 'hella protective', and you and Bucky were not fans of that. 1415 words.
You must be thinking by now... "What the fuck is up with the long titles? What are you, Fall Out Boy?" Well, it's because I have no other choice, okay? I'm horrible at titles.
1) The Fire Alarm.
“I don’t like it, Stark.”
“Well, you don’t have to like it, they’re gonna do it anyway. They’re kids. Well, one of the kids being 97. It’s no big deal, Nat, honestly. They’re just walking down the hallway together.”
Natasha and Tony were in the top of Stark Tower, watching you and Bucky walk around together on the different security cameras. You were walking hand-in-hand and you had no idea that you were being watched. Of course you knew there were cameras, but you knew that didn’t matter too much. You and JARVIS were bros. You were talking about what you’d do when you got back to your shared apartment in the tower. You’d just gotten back from an ice cream date, and you were both a little buzzed from the sugar.
“When we get back to the apartment, I could run around with you on my back.”
“Yeah, but that won’t solve my problem. I had sugar too.”
“Push up competition?”
You didn’t even reply. You just stared at him.
“I was kidding!” You continued to glare. “Oh, I know what we could do....”
He suddenly pushed you up against the wall, biting gently at your neck as he subtly grinded against you.
Her voice going up an octave or two, Natasha screeched, “ToONNYYY!!”
“Oh my god.”
“JARVIS, FIRE IN HALLWAY 14-G. ACTIVATE SPRINKLERS.”
“At your request, Natasha.”
“Yeah, we should go do that,” you groaned. You didn’t believe he was doing this out in the open.
“We could do it right here, honestl–”
Water started pouring over the both of you.
“Oh my god!” you said in unison.
You looked around for a security camera, your hair already soaked. “Damn it, Natasha!”
“C’mon, we’ll finish this at home,” Bucky said, pulling you by the hand.
2) The Bedsheets
“Hey Nat,” you said as you entered her apartment.
“Hiya, baby sister. What’s up?”
“We got in a fight.”
“No way. I’ll kill him. What was it about?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “The bedsheets.”
“What do you mean, ‘the bedsheets’?”
“I mean, I don’t think it’s necessary to change them every goddamn day, even if they look exactly the same.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, there were some nasty blows in that fight. We both ended up crying, he’s staying at Steve’s place, and I didn’t want to stay at the apartment, so I figured I’d come here.”
“Awh, come here,” she said, opening her arms to you. “I’ll kill him, I promise.”
“Nat, you can’t kill him. I’m still in love with him, we just hit a bump.”
She shushed you, smothering you so that you wouldn’t talk.
“It’s okay. I’ll kill him,” she whispered.
It was late, so you were asleep less than an hour later. Though, you were woken up by your sister yelling in the other room, most likely through the phone.
“STEVE, YOU BETTER GET YOUR FRIEND IN LINE OR SO HELP ME I WILL KILL HIM. HE MADE MY BABY SISTER CRY OVER THE DAMN SHEETS. NO, I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO HIM. NO, HE CAN’T COME TALK TO HER. KEEP HIM AT YOUR PLACE. YELL AT HIM A LOT. TELL HIM NATASHA WILL KICK HIS METAL ASS IF HE HURTS MY SISTER AGAIN YOU HEAR ME?” There was a pause, then a sigh. “Okay. Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite. Now go back to sleep. And yell at Bucky some more.”
3) The Ferris Wheel
The Avengers and crew go to a theme park. So cliche, yet so amusing. Thor on roller coasters? Priceless. Hawkeye playing shooting games? Hilarious. Your older sister following you around the entire time making sure you didn’t so much as touch your boyfriend? Expected.
You’d already ridden all of the rollercoasters, and it hadn’t been more than two hours. You all had “Get In The Front Of The Line I’m An Avenger” Passes.
They were Clint’s idea.
The only ride you hadn’t gone on was the Ferris Wheel. Everyone was going to go at once, but then you realised that 11 people in one cart was impractical. So you split into threes. Bruce, Steve and Thor. Coulson, Fury and Hill. Natasha, Clint, and Tony. And that left, to Natasha’s disdain, you and Bucky by yourselves.
“You know what, maybe I should go with you guys,” she said as you were getting on the ride.
“Oh no,” you said monotonously. “It seems we’re getting on without you. Whatever shall we do?”
“DO NOT BE MAKING OUT UP THERE!” she yelled.
And once you got to the top, that’s exactly what you did.
“Damn, this is beautiful,” you said, looking over the view. “You can see the entire park.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
“Okay? Look at this!”
“James Buchanan Barnes! Do you not think this is amazing?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s a lot more beautiful...right...next...to...me,” he said, pausing distinctly between each word before leaning in and kissing you. You returned it with equal passion and tangled your fingers in his hair as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip. He opened his mouth and you were officially making out. However, Natasha had the car behind you.
And someone gave her a bullhorn.
“DO NOT KISS MY SISTER, ROBOCOP.”
You pressed your middle finger to the glass that was holding you inside the car.
“DON’T GIVE ME THAT. STOP MAKING OUT!!! IT’S NOT ROMANTIC, IT’S BAD.”
You pulled away slowly, whispering, “Give me a second.”
“NATASHA ROMANOFF I CAN KISS WHOEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE!!”
“Y/N ROMANOFF YOU CANNOT KISS WHOEVER YOU DAMN WELL PLEASE!!”
And with that, one hand pulled Bucky into you by his shirt, the other pulling tight on his hair. A low groan resonated from the back of his throat and his hands settled around your waist, pulling you on his lap.
“YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”
Your lips were just making their way down to his jaw when the ride creaked again. “Hold on, I need a quick selfie. It’s gonna be great.” You took a classic couple’s shot; kissing Bucky and posing so that you could see all of the theme park under you, and your sister screaming her face off behind you.
4) The Wedding
“I, F/N M/N Romanoff, take you, James Buchanan Barnes, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
“And I, James Buchanan Barnes, take you, F/N M/N Romanoff, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
“You may kiss your bride.”
You nearly jumped into Bucky’s arms. You kissed him hard, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you, earning cheers from the few people attending.
“Oh, God, I love you so much,” you muttered against his lips.
“I love you too,” he replied.
You looked over to your maid of honour when he set you down.
Natasha was rocking the red bridesmaid dress that you’d gotten. And over on Bucky’s side, Steve was beaming, patting his friend on the back.
“Congrats, baby sister. You chose a good guy,” she said.
“Oh, so now you don’t hate him?”
“No, I still do. But I can suppress it for one day. And if he gets you pregnant, I’ll–”
“Kill him. I know.” You rolled your eyes.
“No, actually, I’ll take that baby as my own, because it’ll be as cute as the two of you combined, which, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, is hella cute. And it’ll get me into places.”
“As if being the Black Widow doesn’t already?”
She shushed you, smothering you in her arms one more time before your husband stole you from her arms and hauled you over his shoulder, carrying you out the exciting way. The you-and-him-way. And there was no way Natasha could stop him from carrying you out of the reception venue to bang you at least once before going to the after-party.
Even if she were to scream, “DO NOT BANG MY BABY SISTER!” at the top of her lungs.
Which she did.
Chapter 16: Meeting Parents and Other Relationship Cliches
It's been almost a year and a half since you and Bucky had started dating, so he thought it was about time he met your parents. 1310 words.
Because I don't know your family, and I can't really generalize a family, I just kind of plopped my family in here. So, yeah. Also! There's one part that, after I'd finished writing it, I realised was completely unnecessary, so there's ~horizontal lines~ around that part, in case you want to skip it.
“I changed my mind. This is a bad idea. What if they don’t like me?”
“Then they don’t have to go to the wedding.”
“I haven’t proposed yet.”
“I’m telling you that if they don’t like you, they don’t have to go to the wedding. What does you proposing have anything to do with‒”
The door opened.
"Well, if it isn't the one who never visits! Come in,” your mom said snarkily as you stepped inside.
So, you hadn’t exactly told her that you had a boyfriend. It’s not like you said you didn’t have one, you just avoided the topic. And you hadn’t told her you were coming, either. Though it had been, what, a year and a half since you and Bucky had starting dating, so you thought it was about time you took him to meet your parents.
It was actually him that had brought up the subject of meeting your parents. You were lying in bed one night and you said, “It’s probably too late for me to meet your parents, huh?”
“Yeah, like 80 years too late,” he’d replied. Then, in lieu of you meeting them, he described them for you. “What about your parents? I’m assuming they’re...I mean, since I haven’t met them...”
“No, they’re alive, I just‒” Fuck. You had no excuse. “We’ve been so busy, you know. No time.”
He sat up. “Have you not told your parents that we’re dating?”
“I’m sorry, I just...”
“Okay, first thing tomorrow, we have to go wherever they are living and I have to go meet them.”
You exhaled. “If you insist."
And here you were, after travelling all day, though much less travelling than you’d anticipated. You walked inside, motioning for Bucky to follow you.
“In the kitchen. More importantly, who’s this?” your mom asked.
“James Barnes,” Bucky said confidently.
“You’re one of Y/N’s friends?”
“Uh, actually, this is my boyfriend,” you said, smiling awkwardly.
“Oh, thank god, finally. It’s wonderful to meet you, James,” your mom said, holding out her left hand for him to shake. You could feel the panic radiating off him as he pulled her into a one-armed hug instead.
You had to hold back a laugh, the scene before you was so awkward. His left hand was crammed into his hoodie’s pocket and he put his right arm around her shoulder, and after the short second it took to react, your mom wrapped her arms around his waist and they hugged for two seconds before Bucky pulled away, his face red.
“You guys came just in time for dinner,” your mom quickly recovered, leading the way into the kitchen. You intertwined your left hand with Bucky’s right as you followed. Your stepdad, when you got into the kitchen, was stalling on his phone, waiting for the food to cook. “Look who’s here!”
He looked up, “Oh, Y/N, hi!”
“Hi,” you said, forcing a smile.
His eyes drifted to Bucky. “Hello.”
“This is Y/N’s boyfriend, James,” you mom said.
Your stepdad’s mood seemed to lighten a bit. “Nice to meet you, James,” he said, pocketing his phone and taking a step toward Bucky, this time holding out his right hand.
Bucky shook his hand, saying, “Nice to meet you too, sir.”
“Hey, dinner’s gonna be ready in about twenty minutes if you guys want to stay.”
Forty five minutes and a large bowl of spaghetti later, you were having some post-dinner conversation.
“So, we haven’t seen you in nearly a year, what’ve you been doing?”
It probably took all of Bucky’s strength not to say, “Me.”
“I’ve been really busy, you know, with the whole S.H.I.E.L.D. shutting down and having to restart thing.”
“It’s been two years, you’d think S.H.I.E.L.D. would be back together already,” your stepdad remarked.
“Two years?” you asked.
“Since the whole thing with Hydra and the Winter Soldier, you know?”
“Oh, right,” you muttered, noticing Bucky going stiff. You gently took his hand in yours under the table.
“Wasn’t that horrible? I mean, it was bad enough that they infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside out, but hiring that psycho try to kill Captain America and his friends was a little too far. I would hope that he died during it, you know, drowned after he fell off the helicarrier or something. We don’t need horrible people like that in our country.”
Bucky squeezed your hand, hard.
That was your kinda-safeword for the evening. You’d told him that your stepdad tended to push limits, though not usually intentionally, so he said that he’d squeeze your hand if he felt uncomfortable. And right now, even you knew that this was a serious red flag.
“I’m gonna go get some more wine for you guys,” you said, pushing your chair back.
“I’ll go with you,” Bucky said, avoiding eye contact as he got up and followed you into the kitchen.
Bucky immediately broke into panic. “Y/N, if you ever tell them who I was, my past, anything, they’ll hate me for sure. Oh god, if they even see my arm–”
“Shh, Bucky, calm down. It’s okay. They’re not going to hate you, and it wouldn’t matter if they did, because I love you,” you told him, resting your hand on the side of his face, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb. “And you can stay in here for a little longer, until you feel comfortable. I can explain a little bit. About how you–er, how the Winter Soldier had been brainwashed and all, okay?”
“Yeah, that’s...that’s okay. I love you,” he mumbled, leaning into your hand.
“I know,” you said, kissing him quickly before grabbing a bottle of wine off the counter and returning to your parents with a brief, “Sorry.” You sat down. “So, about the whole Winter Soldier thing...”
Bucky waited in the kitchen, trying to get ahold of himself whilst you explained that Hydra had literally taken some random guy and trained him to be a weapon, brainwashed him when he remembered anything other than what his mission was and how to do it. “He didn’t know what he was doing, he couldn’t control himself,” you explained.
“But he still did all those things, he still had a choice. He could’ve run away from Hydra, but chose to keep killing people for them,” your stepdad countered. He was always a smartass.
“No, he–he was brainwashed, he was under control. Heavy control. It wasn’t until after he fought Ste–er, Cap, on the helicarrier that he was free from Hydra. He was under heavy guard for all the time that Hydra had him. I’m trying to tell you that he was Hydra’s weapon. He had no free will. He was brainwashed.” You exhaled harshly, realising that you were near shouting at this point. “Sorry. It’s my job as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to keep the story straight as much as I can.”
“Whatever,” your stepdad nodded. “Where’d your boyfriend go?”
“I’m here,” Bucky said, rounding the corner and finding his way back to his seat next to you, lacing his fingers together with yours. You squeezed his hand as if to ask if he was okay, and he squeezed back as if to say he was.
“Hey, if you guys don’t mind, we drove about eight hours to get here, so could we stay here tonight?” you proposed, changing the subject.
“Oh, sure. Your room is just how you left it. You could sleep in there or–” your mom began.
“That’d be fine,” Bucky said, cutting her off and winking at you.
That day, you checked “Survive an 8 hour car ride together” and “Meeting parents” off your relationship cliche checklist. And that night, you finally got to check “Have loud sex in childhood bedroom” off the list too.
Chapter 17: Peanut Butter And Burnt Toast
Stephanie finally asks about the metal arm, and Bucky's been rehearsing an explanation since the second he knew you were pregnant. 712 words.
More daddy!Bucky, yay! I thought this one was cute. (I'm a little conceited though; I read my own writing for fun.)
You pulled the burnt bread out of the toaster, spreading peanut butter only over it. You put in on a plate and handed it to your daughter at the table. This was exactly how Stephanie liked her toast and if she got it any other way there she would instantly refuse it. You then put in two more pieces of toast to burn and put peanut butter only on, this time for Bucky. That was exactly how he liked his toast and if he got it any other way, he’d deal with it...stubbornly.
Your family was weird, but you loved them.
Today your five-year-old was dressed for school in a blue Captain America shirt and a pink tutu. Your other five-year old was still in sweatpants and a t-shirt, despite the fact that it was his day to drive Stephanie to school. You slid him his own toast at the head of the small, square table, diner style, and went to make your own toast next. “So, princess, what’ve you got going at school today?” he asked her.
“Mr. Schmidt said that today we were going to do more reading,” Stephanie said with her mouth full.
“What’re you reading?”
“In class, we’re reading some dumb picture book about the zoo. But I got Charlotte’s Web from the library. Maria told me that was good,” she said.
She was at least three years ahead of her class reading-wise, and she and her friend Maria agreed that the picture books read in Mr. Schmidt’s first grade class were boring. So Maria stole books from her brother, Howard, who was in third grade, and read those.
You thought it was great. But the school thought they shouldn’t be reading high-level books. Bucky had a few choice words for the school, as did Maria’s father, Tony Stark himself.
The school let them read high-level books after that.
“Yeah, that’s a good book,” Bucky said, taking a bite of his toast as you sat down with yours.
After a brief silence, Stephanie grabbed Bucky’s hand and asked, “Hey Daddy, why do you have a metal arm?”
He took a breath, looking at you briefly. The day he found out you were pregnant, he started writing out and rehearing an explanation. Today he would finally get to put it to use.
“Way back before I met Mommy, Uncle Steve and I were in the army. One time, I was out on a mission, on a train on a mountain. And I fell off the train, and on the way down, my arm hit a branch and–” He made a chopping noise and motioned across his shoulder. Stephanie gasped. He nodded passively. “Yeah. Then a bunch more bad guys found me and gave me this arm,” he said, flexing it and grinning, before becoming more somber. “And for awhile, they made me do some bad things with it. Some really bad things. And I used to be uncomfortable with my arm, because of all the bad things I did with it. I used to hate it. Then I did a lot of good things with it. I married Mommy with it, I made you with it. I got happier despite it. All ‘cause you guys,” he said, placing his right hand at the back of your head, and his left at the back of Stephanie’s. “I love you guys so much.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” Stephanie said, squeezing his forearm with her right hand. “And I think your arm is really cool, by the way. No one else’s daddies have cool metal arms like you, Dad.” Bucky’s face broke out in a grin. “For the record, I love you too, Momma,” Stephanie said, earning a smile from you. “I don’t want you guys to think I have a favourite or anything.”
“Well, it’s good to know you don’t have a favourite,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “And I love you too, darling.” You checked your watch. “Hey, you guys had better get going, you’re gonna be late.”
“Oh, right,” Bucky said, standing up and kissing you on the lips before following Stephanie, with her Avengers backpack, out the door.
His lips had tasted like peanut butter and burnt toast, and that was exactly how you liked it.
Chapter 18: Perfect
Bucky's nervous for your wedding. Pretty simple. Bucky POV, 442 words.
I don't really have anything to say...except 40s!Bucky is back! In a wedding fic!
I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands over my jacket, turning to Steve. “How do I look? Do I look okay?”
“You look fine, Buck. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Steve said, grabbing me by the shoulders. “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”
“I just...you know, wedding days and all,” I said, inhaling, and checking myself out in the mirror once more, straightening the belt around my waist and pulling on my sleeves. “Of course, you wouldn’t know, you still haven’t got the guts to propose to Peggy.”
“I do! It’s just...not the right time,” Steve said defensively. “We’ve only been dating a year and a half.”
“You’ve been in love a lot longer.”
“Stop trying to change the subject!”
He had his uniform on as well, almost matching mine, save for the different pins and patches. I shrugged, exhaling roughly. “God, I can’t believe I’m finally gonna marry her.”
“I know. It’s been almost 7 years, Bucky.”
“She wanted to wait ‘til the war was over. It’s her fault we’re waiting ‘til now. If I had it my way, we would’ve gotten married the second I met her.”
“Good to know you’re still hopelessly in love with her.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Okay, it’s time. You ready?”
“Isn’t that what I just said? I’ve been ready since 1938, Steve. I’m just nervous.”
“Okay, then, come on,” Steve said, leading down the stairs to the ballroom of the hotel. I took my place at the altar, next to the officiant. “You’re gonna do just fine.” He clapped me on the shoulder. I took a few more deep breaths and waited for the music to start. Five of Y/N’s friends accompanied the Howling Commandoes down the aisle, and they lined up on either side. Then Steve and Peggy, then Y/N and her—oh God, she looked perfect.
She would probably know the exact terms for the dress she was wearing, but the only way I knew how to describe it was “perfect”. It fit her perfectly. Her hair looked perfect, her makeup looked perfect. Just everything about her was perfect.
She reached the altar, grinning like an idiot (like me). I grabbed her hands and a million thoughts were going through my head, several being “I want to rip that dress off her”, “I want to kiss her ‘til I smear that red lipstick” and “I wonder what she’d look like in only those heels”. Thankfully, I ended up sputtering out none of those. The only thing I managed to say was “You look perfect.”
She replied with, “You look perfect-er.”
I couldn’t possibly dream of marrying anyone else.
Chapter 19: Showing Off
Bucky always skips out on Stephanie's dance classes, and you're not sure why. The one time she forces him to stay happens to be a special day.
Sickeningly fluffy with more daddy!Bucky. Okay for the first time in forever I have a music suggestion...I learned how to swing dance to Mambo No. 5 (I know) so you could listen to that. I think I actually wrote this to that and Sing, Sing, Sing by Benny Goodman. Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated! ^_^
“Okay, sweetheart, have fun,” Bucky said, stopping the car outside the dance studio just long enough for your daughter to get out of the car.
“Dad, you always drop me off. Can’t you and Mom stay just one time? Please?” she urged, her black dance bag slung over her shoulder.
You gave him a “Come on” look, and he smiled and nodded, telling her, “Okay, you go in, and I’ll go park and meet you.” She squealed joyfully. She was only seven, and right now, dance was her favourite thing. She and her best friend went to this tiny studio near your house, and they both wanted to be ballerinas. Her best friend, of course, being Steve’s son, James.
For some reason, Bucky never wanted to stay and sit through. He always dropped her off and went and did something instead of doing what most parents did. You’d asked him once if he’d had some traumatic event pertaining dance studios, because he had no problem dancing at home. He said he didn’t want to talk about it.
He looked nervous as he entered the studio, not realising that Steve was one of the parents watching the kids warm up with the overenthusiastic dance instructor.
“Hey Buck,” he said under his breath as you two approached him. “Y/N.”
“Hey Steve. Where’s—”
“Oh, she’s out getting groceries. Like you usually do during lessons,” Steve said teasingly.
Bucky pressed his lips together whilst you laughed quietly, about to reply when the teacher turned to the three of you and the nine other parents there. “So, as you all know, it’s that special time of the month!” You and Bucky and Steve all looked at each other, giving each other weird looks to avoid pressing them all on the teacher. When none of the parents responded, the teacher exclaimed, “Parent inclusion day!”
You let out a quiet, “Ohhh”, along with every other parent in the room, as all the kids cheered.
“So, I—I’m assuming you’re Stephanie’s dad?” the teacher asked in a peppy, high voice, raising her eyebrows at Bucky, comparing her brown hair and pouty lips to his, and then, turning to you and noticing her Y/E/C eyes that were obviously yours, “And you’re her mother?”
“Yep,” you two said in unison.
“Okay, will the two of you join Stephanie in her spot, please?”
She assigned every other parent to their child.
“What the hell are we supposed to be doing?” Bucky asked you in a hushed whisper.
“I have no idea. Roll with it.”
“Now, we’re going to be taking a break from ballet today to have a little fun. We’ll be doing...swing dancing.” Your eyes lit up and you looked at Bucky, who was chuckling at Steve’s panicked expression.
“So, we’ll have Stephanie’s parents demonstrate, since you seem to be the only complete couple today. If you two could come to the front, please?”
“Of all the days to come to class,” Bucky muttered.
“Now, have you done this before?”
Bucky raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, almost in a way to say, “Bitch please.” You nudged him, confirming out loud that you had. Your daughter was squeeing in delight. You and Bucky had done swing dancing at home before for her, doing intricate flips and spins to entertain her.
Bucky sighed and you could hear Steve holding back laughter behind you.
“Anything in particular that you want us to do? We’re what you could call experts,” Bucky said, and Stephanie giggled.
“Just the basic movements for now,” she instructed putting on music, and you complied, grabbing Bucky’s hands and getting into the movements. “Now kids, you see what they’re doing?” Murmurs of agreement came from around the room. “With your mom or dad as your partner, do what they’re doing.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. You were leading the class.
“Now, if you want, you can do some spins and flips. Show off,” the teacher whispered to the two of you.
You both grinned, getting into the feel of your usual routine before doing spin after spin, flip after flip, showing off like no one’s business. You were the best in the room, that was damn sure.
Little “wow”s came from all the kids as Bucky did one last over-the-shoulder flip and you both took a break, slightly dazed. The teacher stopped the music.
“Dang, Steph, your parents are cool,” said one of the girls.
“My dad kept stepping on me,” said James, and Steve turned beet red as the kids erupted into laughter.
“Well, I never learned to dance,” Steve said in his own defense.
You and Bucky ended up giggling as well, and you kissed him on the cheek and said, “Good job, partner.”
Chapter 20: The Avengers (And Some Others) Meet Stephanie
You take your newborn to meet all of the Avengers, as she's going to grow up with them constantly around her.
More daddy!Bucky, more cuteness and fluffy-ness. I had a need for something with the Avengers when I wrote this, and the request only said "Bucky being a protective dad" so this was born. Whoop
“Oh my god, Buck, she’s gorgeous,” Steve whispered, taking yours and Bucky’s daughter into his arms, “What’s her name?”
Bucky flashed a smirk before telling him, “Stephanie.”
Steve’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. “You didn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
You stood off to the side, taking Stephanie into your arms as Steve pulled Bucky into his for a tight hug. “I cannot believe you.”
“Now you better name your kid after me,” Bucky said as he returned the hug, patting Steve roughly on the back.
“That was the deal, wasn’t it?” he said to Bucky, then turning back to you, “Can I hold her again? Oh god, she’s so perfect.” You handed her over again. He poked her gently in the belly and her tiny hand clamped over his finger. Steve was smiling brighter than the hot New York sun that day.
“Well, it seems we’ve found a babysitter,” you said.
“Who is this?!” Natasha asks excitedly, reaching out to hold the small child. You hand her Stephanie, and Nat instantly started making faces at her, and the baby started laughing.
“Stephanie,” you told your best friend as she squishes your daughter’s cheeks.
“You named her after the fossil? The one you didn’t marry, that is?” You couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, I am really insulted. I thought she’d be named ‘Natasha Black Widow Barnes’. I’m disappointed, Y/N.”
“Bucky decided on the name, said that him and Steve agreed that they’d name their kids after each other back in the 40s. So, I couldn’t break that promise.”
“Promises schomises. You should’ve named her after me. We look exactly the same, come on,” she said, holding the baby up next to her. “Spot the difference, right? Trick question, there is none. This is my child. I’m stealing her. I’ve decided.”
“You and Steve both.”
“I will fight him to the death, she’s mine! I’ll get her a little spy outfit, we’ll be matching. It’ll be great.”
“Right,” you said sarcastically.
“I will, I’ll get her an outfit! I bet Stark will too, actually, and everyone else. This girl will have the best Halloweens.”
“And the best rest of her life. She’s practically going to be raised by the Avengers, for Christ’s sake.”
Natasha made a short noise of agreement then paused.
“So is that a yes on me keeping her or what?”
“Ooh, let me see your spawn!” Tony yelled from down the hallway, his mouth full of donut.
Always a character, he was.
You held Stephanie up, waving her arms at him. The baby giggled, and Tony made a face at her as you finally met him in the middle of the wide hallway.
“Aw, she’s so cute!” he said, holding his arms out. You looked at Bucky and he shook his head.
“She’s only a month old, Tony,” Bucky said.
“But you let Capsicle hold ‘er!”
“He’s also my best friend, and I also named her after him.”
“My daughter, my decision. Maybe in a few weeks.”
Tony made a face at Bucky then gently patted the top of her head, ruffling the slight patch of brown hair that was there. “Don’t worry, kid. Uncle Tony’s gonna spoil you rotten. You’ll have your own mini Iron Girl suit by the time you’re six.”
You grinned. This girl was going to have an amazing childhood.
“Aw, how old is she?” Bruce asked, nervously rubbing his hands together.
“Six months,” you said.
“I heard from Tony that you named her after Steve.”
“Yeah. Stephanie Alice Barnes,” Bucky recited, smiling like an idiot.
“That’s a nice name. She’s cute, she has Y/N’s eyes.”
You smiled, saying “I’ve been told.”
The question almost passes your lips. The question almost passes his mind. Everyone in the room knows that if you offered for him to hold her, he’d certainly decline. And everyone knows that he’d never ask. But that’s okay. He’s content in just looking for now, as you know.
“She’s cute. I bet Tony offered to make her a suit?”
“Yeah,” you said, smirking.
“I’m sure she’ll be brilliant. Hopefully she can–when she’s older, of course–hang out in the lab.”
“Hopefully,” you said.
“So, this is the child that Tasha wanted to steal.”
“Yep, this is the critically acclaimed Stephanie Barnes,” Bucky said, holding the little girl against his chest, supporting her with his left arm.
“She’s cute,” he said shortly, ruffling her hair. “You have any big plans for her yet? President of the U.S.? Famous dancer? Expert marksman like myself?”
“No, don’t wanna expect too much of her just yet. She’s only a few months old, Clint.”
“Oh, right...well, if she ever wants lessons, I’m sure I could find her a bow, and we could get some targets and arrows and she could stay with me for awhile. I could teach her to shoot.”
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, sitting oher on his knee and turning her toward Clint. He pulled her right hand back as if to shoot an arrow at the other man. She burped.
“Okay. I see how it is,” Clint said to both the baby and Bucky.
“This child of yours, she is very fun. She seems to have taken a liking to me,” Thor said, sitting on the floor. You’d left Stephanie with him for one hour, and the entire room was trashed, the sofa turned into a huge fort, and your 18-month-old giggling loudly in his lap.
“I see you two had fun,” you said, assessing the mess.
“She’s quite the troublemaker. I should take her to see Jane sometime.”
“Well, we haven’t seen you in a year, I don’t know if she’d be able to do a trip to Asgard that long.”
“I could surely make a shorter trip,” Thor said desperately.
“Let’s keep her on Earth until she’s at least 12, okay?”
The god looked deflated.
“Then again, Jane could always come here. I’d love to see her.”
“It is done,” he said, handing you Stephanie, running onto the balcony and yelling, “Heimdall! Take me to Asgard! I must bring back Jane to see this child!”
“Thor, maybe you could help clean up this–”
He was gone.
“No. No way in hell your crazy psychopath brother is going near her,” Bucky said defensively.
“Loki would never–”
“I would never what?” the aforementioned cut in, rounding the corner where Bucky and Thor were talking.
“You would never harm an innocent child. Certainly not the child of a friend of mine, right, brother?”
“Is this the child?” he asked, motioning to Stephanie, who Bucky was holding dangerously close.
“Yes. Is she not a cute child?” Thor asked.
Loki twisted his hand and a small rainbow swirl of magic appeared, immediately drawing her attention. “I have learned that Midgardian children like animals. What is this one’s favourite?”
“She likes rabbits,” Bucky said stiffly.
Loki quickly conjured a tiny, green, translucent rabbit and it jumped onto her tiny, chubby arm and she started giggling. Bucky pressed his lips together as Stephanie tried to grab at the figure, saying, “Bunny!” The conjuration suddenly swelled in size and she continued to grab at it, even though it was now the size of her head and floating in midair. “Dada, down! Bunny!” she yelled, squirming so that she could get down. Bucky was visibly uncomfortable, but set her down to play with the bunny.
Loki sat cross-legged on the floor, controlling the rabbit image as she played with it.
“See? He is harmless. He doesn’t even have to touch her to play with her,” Thor said.
You were going back to your apartment in Avengers Tower when you heard Stephanie giggling from in the hallway, and went to investigate. You didn’t see Bucky and Thor talking against the wall, just Loki playing with the rabbit and Stephanie. Your eyes widened and you scooped her up, immediately pulling her into your arms and staring him down. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, doll, it’s fi–” Bucky began before Loki interrupted.
“Do you not trust me? Why do you Midgardians not trust me?”
You squinted at him as if to say, “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even remember when you destroyed New York City and killed 80 people in 2 days?”
But you didn’t say that. You just shook your head and said, “Forget it. Here, Stephie.” You set the child back down to play, and went over to talk with Bucky and Thor, starting with, “Tell me he wasn’t serious.”
“Hey, Director Fury, look who we brought to visit!” Bucky said, holding up Stephanie.
Chapter 21: Mister Loverboy
I just really needed something written off the “Maybe she has a friend” exchange between Bucky and Steve from TFA, okay? That's what this is.
No notes on this one, other than the fact that I've been wanting to write this FOREVER.
“I’m invisible. I-I’m turning into you. It’s like a horrible dream,” Bucky said, laughing.
“Don’t take it so hard,” Steve said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Maybe she’s got a friend.”
Two weeks later, Steve had managed to convince Bucky to accompany him to the Stork Club to meet Peggy. “I don’t understand why I have to go,” Bucky complained as they walked up to the club.
“You’ll see,” Steve said smugly.
“I’ll probably end up being the third wheel to Mr. and Mrs. Loverboy again,” Bucky muttered under his breath as he followed Steve through the door.
You exhaled, smoothing your navy blue dress and glancing at Peggy. She smiled at you reassuringly before spotting Steve and Bucky, raising her eyebrows at them. You followed her gaze to two men in uniform. One with neatly combed blonde hair, who you knew to be Steve, seeing as Peggy never shut up about him.
The other man, however, had dark brown hair and his lips parted slightly when he saw you. You saw him take a breath as he walked toward you and Peggy. A hint of swagger laced his soldier walk and you pressed your lips together and averted your eyes.
He was hot.
Steve gave Peggy a quick kiss on the lips. She was beaming. She motioned to you, saying, “This is my friend, Y/N.” You smiled shyly before shaking Steve’s hand.
“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you,” you said with a smile, holding out your hand for the other man to shake.
“Bucky,” he said, grabbing your hand and kissing it. “And the pleasure is all mine.” The corner of your mouth pulled up in a genuine smile and you felt a blush creep across your cheeks.
“Shall we?” Peggy asked, taking Steve’s hand in hers.
Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and murmured, “How often are you told that you’re the most gorgeous girl on this planet?”
“I’m frequently told I’m the most gorgeous girl on other planets, though rarely on this one,” you said, smirking.
He chuckled. “I like you, Y/N. Y’know, Steve didn’t tell me I’d be meeting a girl tonight—much less one who’s incredibly beautiful and funny.”
“You’re really forward, you know that?” you said, turning to look at him.
“I am,” he shrugged. “But it gets me places. You’re blushing like crazy right now.” He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and motioned to your face.
“Well, that’s because I’m around such a striking young man such as yourself. And in uniform. You’re a complete package, Sergeant.”
“Aren’t I?” He pulled his other hand out of his pocket and grabbed both of yours. “You know how to dance, doll?”
“Do I know how to dance? Sweetheart, I’ve been dancing since I came out of my mother,” you said, rolling your shoulders back. When Peggy asked you to go dancing with two guys you’d never met, you were skeptical.
Now you were completely confident.
“Perfect.” The word rolled off his tongue in a way that made you think that this kid was a breed of flirt and challenger.
The band started with several songs of medium speed, that you danced to effortlessly. You kept from doing anything complicated at first, getting to some spins by the sixth song.
Damn, this guy had stamina.
Then, the singer said a perfect string of words. “The next one we’re gonna play is a bit of a fast one, for the more pro couples. I encourage you to flip it out during this one, folks. Okay, five, six, seven, eight.”
You got a pace going, then started doing spins and flips, one right after the other. The moves got more complicated as the song went along, and by the end of it you were both out of breath, though still managing to be laughing.
Steve and Peggy had sat that one out, and were sitting by the bar. You walked over to them, Bucky’s arm around your waist. You didn’t mind. “I see you two are having a good time,” Peggy said.
“Oh, definitely,” Bucky said.
“I think they’re gonna play something slow next,” Steve said.
“I would hope so,” Bucky smirked, glancing at you.
And so they did. The singer told the group that they were going to play something slow, so grab that special someone.
“You’re close enough,” you said to Bucky as you followed Steve and Peggy—and nearly everyone else—onto the dance floor, shrugging.
“You’re hilarious,” he replied monotonously.
They started to play Sunday, Monday or Always. Your right hand held his left and his right arm securely around your waist pulled you tightly into his form. Your arm was draped around his waist. The two of you slowly swayed to the music. You rested your head on his shoulder and he rested his head on yours.
You’d only known this man for a few hours, yet it felt like you’d known him forever. You trusted him like you’d known him forever, that was for sure. You closed your eyes, consequentially, at the same time he closed his. The song slowly finished off, and you lifted your head from his shoulder.
“Want a drink?” Bucky asked, still energetic. A new song started in the background.
“Nah, it’s getting kind of late. I’d hate to have to pull Peggy off your friend over there, but we should really be getting going. It was wonderful meeting you, Bucky.” You kissed his cheek, careful not to leave a lipstick stain. You took a step away from him, but weren’t able to get far before he stopped you.
“Y/N, wait,” he said, gently pulling you back by your arm. He spun you toward him and kissed you hard on the lips. You melted into him, your hands securing themselves on the sides of his face. His arm snaked around your waist and he pulled you close to him. The kiss lasted a few seconds before he pulled away. “Wow,” he breathed before his eyes diverted from being locked on yours to something behind you.
“Seems I picked the right friend to bring,” Peggy said.
“I’ll say,” Steve seconded.
Bucky didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You were suppressing a grin by biting your lip, and Peggy suggested that the two of you make your way home.
“We should do this again sometime, doll,” Bucky said.
You gave him a casual, two-finger salute and a smile as you walked out with Peggy.
As soon as you and Peggy were out of earshot, Bucky said in a dreamy voice, “I’m gonna marry her.”
“And you call me Mister Loverboy,” said Steve.
Chapter 22: Frosty and Fireball
AU where Reader is part of the Avengers with fire powers. They're completely drained in a big battle and falls asleep on Bucky on the ride back to Avengers Tower.
I wasn't sure exactly what power to give Reader, so I just thought "How fucking cool would it be to be able to control fire" and so yeah, Hot Head was born.
P.S. I did not come up with that name.
“Dammit Thor, how many cities have to be destroyed before you lock up your psycho brother for good?” you yelled. The long, tedious fight was almost over, thank God, but this was almost like the incident in New York all over again.
“We did lock him up, Y/N!” he replied, smashing an alien’s face in with Mjolnir.
“Clearly not well enough…” you mumbled, engulfing oncoming attackers with flames, keeping them away from your companions and yourself.
“Y/N! Help!” you heard Natasha yell. You sprinted over to her. Her shoulders were mounted by what looked like a leader. With a flick of your wrist it had fallen off her, screaming as it burned. “Thanks,” she breathed.
“No problem,” you said, breathing heavily. This was really taking a toll on you. You never used your powers this long. You’d never needed to.
“Y/N! Watch out!” Natasha yelled, and you focused your eyes long enough to see a huge beast running at you, large knife in hand.
You were wrong. This one was the leader.
Assuming a crouching position, you quickly evaluated a plan of attack. When it was close proximity, you leaped up, hovering in the air as you shot flames at it. It screamed horrendously and crumpled, turning into ash. You soon followed, falling from your position and kneeling on the ground, shaking roughly. You willed yourself not to black out. You knew you couldn’t stand by yourself, so you stayed, on all fours with your head bowed, on the ground. Someone eventually helped you up, and your vision started to clear. It was Tony.
“You okay, hotshot?” he asked.
“Not really,” you heaved, standing with your hands on your knees.
“Okay, kid, come on. I gotcha.” He picked you up in a fireman’s carry. “They got helicopters waiting, we’re going back to Avengers Tower,” he said, following everyone else.
You couldn’t do much else but groan and wait til you got to the helicopter. You’d allow yourself to sleep there. Everyone grouped inside and started chatting about the fight. The seats inside faced each other, and you were on the starboard side. You were seated on the right of Bucky Barnes, alias Winter Soldier. You were too tired to realize this, of course, otherwise you’d be blushing like mad right now. You hated to admit that you were head over heels for him. Your head rolled to the side as you drifted off, and within seconds you were asleep.
“Oh, would you look at that….” Natasha said coyly as she observed the situation.
“What? She fell asleep, it’s no big deal,” Bucky said, glancing at you, who’d fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder. He let a tiny smile slip onto his lips.
“You have a massive crush on her, don’t you?” Natasha asked, crossing her arms.
“No!” he said, much too quickly. His face turned very red very fast. “…Yes.”
“You should put your arm around her,” she said.
“Why would I do that? I doubt she feels―”
“Just do it,” Natasha insisted, smirking.
Bucky huffed and pulls his arm around your shoulders. You cuddled into his side unconsciously, your right arm wrapping around his torso. Bucky’s eyes widened.
“Completely head over heels for you, my friend. I would know.”
Bucky smiled, pulling you closer to him and saying, “I think I’ll take a rest too, actually.” He rested his head on top of yours, and fell asleep quickly.
“Guys look, I finally got Frosty and Fireball to admit they’re in love with each other,” Natasha whispered. She then whipped out her phone and took multiple pictures, intending to post them everywhere later.
The landing was a bit rough, and it woke you up. You realised that Bucky was cuddled up against you and refuse to believe that you actually woke up. You bit your lip hard and yep, you were awake. This was real. You quickly glanced to Natasha, who gave you two thumbs up, before another wave of fatigue hit you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt an arm hook under your knees. That and the one around your shoulders carried you out of the helicopter and into Avengers Tower. Bucky carried you like this all the way back to your sleeping quarters, letting himself in and lying you down on your bed.
He leant down, kissing your forehead briefly before turning to leave. You blinked awake again momentarily. “Hey, where are you going?” you murmured.
“Back to my―”
“Nope. C’mere,” you said, extending your arms. You didn’t even bother to change out of your tactical outfit. You were going to sleep just like this. But you certainly weren’t going back to sleep alone. Bucky looked hesitant, then went to lay down on the bed, facing you. “You’re an incredble cuddler, you know that?” you asked him.
“You’re incredibly beautiful, you know that?”
“Oh, you shush,” you said, putting a hand on the side of his face.
“I’m assuming you want me to sleep here?” he asked you timidly.
“Yeah,” you said, raking your fingers through his hair absently.
“I―I need to be warm to sleep. I need to go back and get some of my blankets.”
“I have three quilts, a duvet, and an electric blanket. And you have me. I’m pretty hot,” you said, smirking. “I think you’ll be fine.”
He smiles and bites his lip, cuddling under the blankets with you. Your back was flush against his chest now, and his face was pressed against your shoulder. You were both incredibly warm under all the blankets, and you loved it. As you finally drift off to sleep, you realised that this is exactly where you should be. And you’re the happiest you’ve been in awhile.
Chapter 23: You're Sweet Enough
Going to his girlfriend's family dinners was not the thing Bucky Barnes loved the most in his life, not at all. Though he manages to have some fun, after all.
Why the HELL did I write the description like that? What the fuck?
You loved the annual family dinner. Believe me, you did. The only thing you were wary of was bringing your boyfriend… who used to be an infamous assassin. Oh, and did I mention the metal arm? That would most likely not go well by your family, who seemed to have absolutely no boundaries. They would poke him and hug him and ask him a billion questions he didn’t want to be asked. (“Say, you look a lot like the Winter Soldier guy…”)
Of course you looked forward to seeing everyone. Of course you looked forward to eating more than you could physically handle. You did not look forward to having to haul Bucky out of the house every 20 minutes to calm him down. Even on your way there, he was nervous. Asking too many questions, not letting go of your hand.
“Bucky, it’s okay. You’re gonna be fine. It’ll only be a few hours,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips as you waited at the door. He didn’t respond, just rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath. “You ready?” you asked. He nodded and you rang the doorbell. Your brother, the host, opened the door immediately, as if he’d been waiting there.
“Y/N! Hey! And, oh, you must be…” he trailed off. He forgot.
“Bucky,” Bucky said with a forced grin, holding out his right hand― the hand that wasn’t locked onto yours. Your brother pressed his lips together and turned to look behind him. Well, that must’ve been reassuring to Bucky, who immediately stuffed his hand back in his jacket pocket.
“Come inside! It’s freezing out!” your brother said after a short pause, ushering the two of you in. You quickly shed yourselves of your jackets and scarves. Bucky kept on his gloves, but you removed yours. It was freezing out, but not in here. And you couldn’t do anything in gloves, unlike Bucky. “Everyone’s already here.”
“Oh, good,” you sighed. Bucky reached for your hand and you took his in yours. This was going to be a long night.
You made your way into the living room, where everyone was talking and drinking. Your aunt was the first to see you, and rushed up to give you a big hug, your hand disconnecting from Bucky’s in the process. She then pulled him into a big hug, and you were both forced through many, many hugs. When that was over with, everyone left the room and you spotted your niece, Caroline, playing with a musical toy in the corner of the room.
“Ooh, hiya Caroline!” you said with a small wave. She waved at you and you went over to her, kneeling by her. “What’re you playing with?” you asked her. She pressed some of the buttons on the toy, making a melody that you normally would have cringed at. But you just smiled.
You glanced over at Bucky, and he looked a thousand times more relaxed. “This is your niece?” he asked you.
“Yeah. She’s sweet, isn’t sh―” You were cut off when your name was called in the kitchen. You sighed. “I gotta go. Think you can hang out with (NAME) whilst I’m gone?”
“Yeah, as long as everyone’s out there,” he said.
“Bucky, you can’t avoid everyone for―” Your name was called again. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” You kissed his cheek and left him with Caroline, screaming, “I’M COMING!” as you made your way into the kitchen. Bucky smiled.
Caroline slammed more buttons, laughing as different animals popped up, which kept up Bucky’s grin. She was sweet. He got her attention and then started a game of peek-a-boo. He’d hide behind his hands and move them off to the side and she’d squeal in delight. This also earned a laugh from him. You ended up being gone for much longer than you’d anticipated, and when you came back they had formed quite a bond; Bucky was telling her a story about the Avengers. Namely, the Pizza Incident. You were surprised. He never talked about the Pizza Incident.
“Hey kids, it’s time to eat,” you said, picking up Caroline with your left arm and holding Bucky’s hand with your left. You set her in her high chair and admired your work. The food was set out amongst the large circular table and just enough chairs were set along the outside.
“Ready to eat, Carrie?” your brother asked the baby, who was sat next to Bucky. Between him and your brother. He began to spoon feed her, but she turned her head and spat, avoiding the food. “What is it?” he asked.
The child points to Bucky, and suddenly all eyes are on him.
“What?” he asked softly, in awe.
“I guess she wants you to feed her,” your brother says, handing him the spoon.
“I…uh, no you should probably do it, you’re her dad…” Bucky said.
“She wants you to do it,” your brother says firmly, and you shoot him a look. Bucky’s grasp on your hand tightened and his other hand went up to take the spoon from him. He feeds the kid, and eventually everyone get distracted by their own food. Not you. Bucky playing with Caroline the whole night brought something to mind. Bucky being a father. Specifically a father to your children. You quickly swiped the thought from your mind. You weren’t even married yet, and didn’t―as far as you knew―plan to anytime soon.
When everyone was done eating, everyone who didn’t help cook started doing the dishes. Except for Bucky. You grabbed your coats and scarves and made your way to the backyard. He had a large backyard, and the ground was dusted in snow. You grabbed Bucky’s hand and led him onto the grass, watching the snowflakes fall over the lawn.
“You know, I saw you playing with Caroline, and I think you’d make a great father,” you said unexpectedly. How did you let that out of your mouth?
“Really?” he asked you, grabbing your other hand and facing you.
“Yeah. Really,” you said confidently. He smiles.
“Yeah, I really like Caroline.”
“I really like you.” You smirked, letting go of his hands to grab him by the collar and pulling him in to kiss you. You heard a faint “whrrrrr” from inside his sleeve and giggled. The snowflakes were gathering on top of your heads, and they were sparkling like glitter in the moonlight.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, the look of a lovesick puppy on his face as he brushed the snowflakes out of your hair. His action is pointless, as it starts snowing harder.
“It really shouldn’t be snowing in November,” you said.
“I don’t know. It’s nice.”
You give him a surprised look. “Since when do you like being cold?”
“It’s not that. It’s the only time of the year I get to do this,” he said, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you so that you were flush against him, and so that your lips were on his. Your hands clasped together at the back of his neck, and one of his hands came up and cupped your cheek. You kissed him there in the snow much longer than you should’ve. You finally came up for air, coincidentally, at the same time someone called you inside for dessert.
As you walked to the door, you told Bucky, “I don’t really need dessert, you’re sweet enough,” and winked.
He laughed and said, “I love you so much.”
“But it’s pie… so I’m gonna have dessert anyway.”
He laughed again. “You know, I think I will too.”
Chapter 24: Letters
After Bucky goes off to war, you can't do anything but write letters. And all that is unrequited is unrequited no more. 2016 words.
holy shit this came out of fucking no where oh my god
i listened to "last leaf" by okgo for this one and the song really fits it, i think.
Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were your best friends, had been since you were children. The other girls had always thought it strange that you’d rather hang out with boys than them, but you didn’t care. You loved your friends more than life itself. You were seventeen when you realised your feelings for one of the boys, and nineteen when you confided in the other about it.
Yep, the day you graduated high school, you realised that James Buchanan Barnes had stolen your heart. Which was really inconvenient, because Suzy Lockport—the bitch—had stolen him from you. In a rush of angst, you pushed her face into some cake, and, well, the rest is history.
The day you moved into your first apartment with the boys was the day you decided to tell Steve. “Moving in summer maybe wasn’t the best idea,” Bucky had quipped, his body drenched with sweat, his shirt clinging to his torso. Panic swept over you as the shirt came over his head, and you grabbed the smaller of the two boys and pulled him to another room.
“I’m in love with Bucky.” The words tumbled clumsily from your mouth and your hand clasped over your mouth as soon as they left it. Steve’s eyebrows raised and he nodded.
All he said was, “This’ll be interesting,” and walked off. You didn’t follow up on it.
Until four years later, when Bucky was drafted for the inevitable war. You clung to him as much as possible for the days preceding his departure, giving him random hugs and kisses on the cheek as much as possible. After he left, you were an emotional wreck, blubbering on about how you may never see him again.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Y/N, he’ll come back, I promise. He promised. And he’s gonna write to you, you know? It’s not like you won’t be hearing from him at all,” Steve consoled you. You continued to cry into his shoulder as he petted your hair. “Hey, wanna go see Dumbo again? It’s on me.”
You sniffed. “Yeah.”
“Okay, great, let’s go.”
A week and a half later, you got your first letter. Finally, something eventful! You’d been sitting alone with Bashful the whole time. She was a beautiful orange tabby kitten that you, Bucky and Steve had gotten a month before Bucky went off to war. To keep you company, he’d said.
You ripped open the envelope, pulling out the single page inside.
This camp is horrible. Everyone and everything here smells bad. There’s no tall buildings, no smoggy Brooklyn sky. Just trees. Fucking trees everywhere. What am I supposed to do with trees, Y/N?
The guys here are nice. I accidentally dropped my gun in the mud and they helped me clean it off. I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you their names. Y’know, in case someone other than you gets this letter first.
I’m bad at writing letters. I’m sorry.
I miss you,
You read over the letter ten or eleven or thirty times before folding it back up and slipping it inside the envelope. Er, what remained of the envelope, rather. You found the nearest sheet of paper and wrote your letter back.
I don’t know if I can help you with your smelly camp situation, I’m sorry. Though, I’m sure, by the time this gets there, you’ll have gotten used to it. The trees, believe it or not, can be used for...yeah, you’re right. I got nothin’. Trees are only cool if they’re small. Little tiny baby trees, like the one at school in third grade, remember that? Benny the Christmas Tree. Good times.
I hope you told the nice guys who helped clean off your gun thank you, you naughty boy. I asked Annie next door, and she said that her husband put the names—first names—of his buddies in his letter. So I’m sure it’s fine to.
Letter-writing tips: look around you. Describe what you see, other than the trees. Is your bed as hard as you thought it’d be? Do you even have a bed? What kind of mush do you eat? Do your buddies have any weird facial hair? Weird stories? When was the last time you had a campfire out there? I know you love campfires. Are they making you eat asparagus? I know you hate asparagus.
Just answer questions like that. I believe in you! You can do it! Letters aren’t hard!
More about me, they took Steve about a week ago, so he’s in boot camp now, I think. I don’t know when you’ll get this. I miss him a lot. So I’m left all alone with Miss Bashful here. She’s been really mellow recently, just sitting on the sofa—in your spot—all day. I try to get her to play with me, but she won’t bite. She does like cuddling, though, so whenever I miss you or Steve, I cuddle her. She purrs when I scratch her ears, like you do!
It’s awfully lonely here.
I miss you too. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much.
You exhaled, wondering where the hell that came from. After a brief word count, you discovered that you’d nearly quadrupled his letter in length. Maybe that’d pressure him to write more next time. And, just for the hell of it, you snatched up two photos from your desk: one of you and Bashful, and one of you and Bucky and Steve at a fair, and stuffed those into the envelope. You copied the address, and set it by the door, intending to put it in the mailbox tomorrow. Right now, you felt like sitting down and reading the letter—grazing over the “I miss you” over and over—until you fell asleep. And that’s exactly what you did.
The next letter that came came a whole month later, and the envelope felt thicker. You’d written a solid three pages last time, and you had larger handwriting than Bucky. You pulled out six pages.
I know I’m so far away from you, and that this is the absolute worst time to tell you this, but after your last letter, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I love you.
God, I love you so much. I don’t know when I started loving you. Maybe it was when you stuffed cake up my girlfriend’s nose in high school. Why did you do that? You never told me.
I love your beautiful, soft Y/H/C hair, and I just wanna bury my face in it. I love your beautiful Y/E/C eyes, and how they’re always so filled with concern when I drag Steve back home half beaten to a pulp. They’re like galaxies, I could just get lost in them.
You’re more beautiful than any girl I’ve ever tried to talk up, any girl I’ve ever dated, slept with, any girl I’ve ever seen. I love you more than the stars out in the sky—which, mind you, are minimal here. The only stars we see are bombs in the sky, love.
I got the picture of you and Bashful, and of you and me and Steve. I keep ‘em in my pockets at all times, and one time, a guy told me that I was a lucky man. And I guess I am. Not as lucky as a man who has the privilege of having your love, but luckier than a man who couldn’t love you.
I wish I would’ve kissed you before I left, so that I could’ve memorised the taste, the feel of your lips on mine before coming to this godawful place. I love you, Y/N, and I miss you so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much.
And to answer your questions, yes, I remember Benny. He was the best damn Christmas tree ever. Yes, I thanked the men who helped me clean my gun off. Their names are Jim, Montgomery, Dum Dum, Gabriel, and Jacques. They’re spectacular guys.
Around me, it’s dark. It’s late at night, and that’s why I’m absolutely pouring my heart out here. I have no self-control. The camp is dirty still, but yes, I got used to the smell. I sleep on a cot in a tent, and it’s no bed like I have at home—and it’s certainly not your bed, where I want to be—but it works. I’ve been eating a lot of rice and beans and bread and stew. It’s not terrible, but it’s not your cooking either. No one has anything incredibly strange on their faces, mostly moustaches and beards or stubble. That’s what I’ve had for the past few days. I’ve heard so many crazy stories, believe me, Y/N, and I’ll tell them all to you when I get back. Hopefully that’s soon. We haven’t had any campfires, actually. And yeah, I’ve had to eat asparagus. It was that or nothing, doll.
I can’t believe they let that little punk in. Damn it, I’ll be saving his ass again sooner or later. I was counting on you to keep him out of the recruitment booths, Y/N! And you take care of that cat, give it as much love as I’d give you. Well, maybe not that much. I don’t want you to—well, I think you know what I mean. I can’t wait to come back home, to see you again. God, I love you so much, Y/N, it hurts me to be away from you. But, I’m still fighting. For the country, for you.
When I see you again, I might have to pretend like this letter was never written. Or, I might get to run my hands over your sides as I pull you into me and I might get to feel your soft, pink lips against mine. God, how great would that be?
You know what? I may not even send this letter. Who knows. They’ll probably already have sent it by the time I can wake up and regret it. Either way, you should know that I love you, and I should stop being a coward, shouldn’t I?
I miss you so much.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
P.S. I love you.
You realised that the letter had left your mouth hanging open, and tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. A short, “Oh god,” left your mouth, and the tears spilled over your cheeks. You scrambled to find a pen and paper, thinking I love you too, Bucky as you began your reply.
Chapter 25: Ice Cream And Comedies Can Fix Anything When It's 3am
Bucky's having nightmares, and you know a good way to cheer him up. Bucky POV, 943 words.
hecke yeah i dont think i've written a nightmares one before? which of course everyone has to have a nightmares fic so here it is! dont remember the music--parks and rec was probably playing in the background tbh. thanks for reading and feedback is appreciated!!
“No,” I said stubbornly. “I―I won’t hurt her. I love her.”
His hand came down hard on my face. I winced in pain. “You know, ever since we got you back, you’ve been a real uncooperative pain in my ass,” the man spat. I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t reply to him. He sighed. “Well, we can’t use him if he’s like this. Wipe him,” he said nonchalantly, turning his back on me. I felt the clamps around my arms and legs tighten, holding me to the cold, hard form of the metal chair. The device rested on either side of my head, and I could feel the electricity buzzing. I whimpered when I heard the device start. I screamed as the device pulled me out of myself, so that I’d be just an empty shell again. I screamed as the device pulled away every ounce of recovery I’d endured, I screamed as―
“Hey, hey, wake up!” A voice pulled me awake. I shot up, putting my hands out in front of me. They were shaking. At least, my right hand was. The person who had waken me was sitting on the side of the bed, staring at me with a concerned look. “It’s okay. You’re safe,” she said. Her voice was soothing, and I believed her. “Y-your name is James Barnes. I’m your friend, Y/N. I live with you.” She flicked on the lamp on the bedside table.
I gulped. She was beautiful.
“That was just a dream?” I asked. My voice wavered, and I felt tears coming on.
“Yes. You’re completely safe,” she said with a small smile. “Do you need a hug?” I nodded furiously, and she reached over and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back, pulling her close to me and burying my face in the crook of her neck. My breathing was still uneven. “Oh, Bucky…” she cooed, smoothing the hair at the back of my head. After some time, I let go of her, and she asked me, “Do you feel like going back to sleep?”
“Okay, come on. Ice cream and comedies can fix anything when it’s 3am,” she said, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me out of bed. For the first time I noticed what she was wearing: sweatpants and a sports bra, but no shirt.
“Y/N?” I asked. “You’re, uh, not wearing a shirt.”
“Neither are you.” She smirked at me, leading me to the kitchen. I realised that I was not wearing a shirt. Eh. I stood at the counter whilst she grabbed two spoons and the tub of ice cream. She smiled at me again and led me to the living room, plopping down on the sofa and patting the space next to her. I obliged. She grabbed a large, fluffy blanket and pulled it over the both of us. “What’d’ya want to watch, Buck? Parks and Rec, maybe?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
“You okay?” she asked me, an aura of kindness strongly radiating off her.
“Yeah, it’s just…that was a…really vivid nightmare.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“I, uh, was back at Hydra, and they were going to turn me back into him…” I don’t know why I regarded the Winter Soldier with such disgust. After all, he was me. A scary, twisted, un-me me. “They wanted me to kill…you.” Every single memory I’d forgotten from waking up to now suddenly flooded back to me. ‘I won’t hurt her. I love her.’ I had said. I loved her.
Her eyes went wide. I brushed it off, saying, “But I didn’t. You woke me up before that.”
“You love me?” she asked quietly.
“Shit. Fuck. Did I say that out loud?” I asked, biting my lip.
“Yeah,” she answered, biting hers.
“I―I didn’t mean to― I’m―fuc―” She cut off my idiotic blubbering by pressing her lips to mine. After an initial moment of shock, I kissed her back, gently, as if kissing her with all I had would break her.
She pulled away, a stupid grin on her face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”
“Me too,” I said, a stupid grin appearing on my face as well.
“The, uh, the ice cream is gonna melt,” she said, flustered. She ran her hand through her hair, and I wanted to kiss her again. And again. And again.
She opened Netflix and turned on the show she’d mentioned, and handed me one of the spoons. She opened the ice cream container and set it between us. It was already half-empty from last week’s nightmare, and we’d finished it off before the first episode was over. She set the empty container on the side table. I put my arm around her shoulders when the next episode began, and she cuddled into my side.
I woke up to the phone ringing, not even realising that I’d fallen asleep. It was morning, and I was laying behind Y/N on the couch, her back pressed against my chest, my left arm draped over her. She woke soon after, groaning and reaching up to grab the phone, not realising that I was there. She held the phone to her ear, mumbling something along the lines of, “Put it in rice. Goddamnit, Steve, I can’t believe you dropped your phone in the―okay, yeah. Bye.” She then rolled over to face me and planted a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Morning, gorgeous.”
I smiled a stupidly-in-love kind of smile. “Good morning. I love you.”
She smiled a stupidly-in-love kind of smile as well. “I love you too. Now, let’s get some breakfast.”
Chapter 26: An Ass-Ass-In A Compromising Situation
You're innocently trying to take out your anger when Bucky interrupts you. You end up in a sparring match. 800 words.
If you haven't noticed, Miss 5,000-Tags and Long-Titles is BACK.
For now. I 'unno. I just had a crazy spurt of inspiration.
Huzzah. Enjoy, and as usual,
Thanks for reading and feedback is always appreciated.
Your fist landed into the punching bag, and you exhaled roughly. Your other hand came in contact, harder, faster, and back and forth, you hit the bag until you were sure your knuckles were bleeding under the ace bandages that you’d scrappily wrapped around your hands. You didn’t have time to find proper gloves, and you didn’t feel like proper gloves. You felt like pouring your raw anger into this punching bag until there was none left to eat you away inside.
Ten more reps until a break, you’d decided. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine― you hit the bag with a loud scream on ten, knocking the bag back with every bit of force you had.
“It seems you’ve got some anger in you, Agent Y/L/N,” said a voice from in the doorway.
"Better to take it out in here than on someone," you said without turning to face him. "Or on myself," you muttered.
"What’s your trouble, doll?"
"Oh, my brother’s being a fucking cunt, that’s all," you said nonchalantly, starting to unravel the bandages.
"I’m sorry to hear that."
“Why are you here?” you asked.
“Here to train, believe it or not. Hey, since you’re already here…what do you say we do some sparring?” he asked.
“You want the shit beat out of you, Sarge?” you asked.
“I’d like to see you try,” he said, tossing you a pair of proper gloves and slipping a pair on himself. You made your way over to the mat and stood ready. He rolled his head and pushed his shoulders back. “Ready?”
“When you are,” you said, smiling.
“Oka―” Your fist hit him hard in the stomach and he grunted, doubling over. You set your foot behind his and swept him to the floor. You straddled his torso, quickly pinning down his hands above his head.
“Is that enough proof?” you said sweetly.
He laughed dryly and smirked. “You caught me off guard.”
“You said you were ready. Care to go another round?”
“Yeah, get off me.”
You got off him and helped him to his feet.
“Round two,” he said. “Let’s―” You copied the same routine, taking him down exactly the same way you had last time. Punch, sweep, pin. In under three seconds, he was under you, laughing again.
“Let’s what?” you asked.
“You’re funny. Stop fucking doing that.”
“Stop fucking being so easy to beat,” you said with a smirk, helping him up again.
“Reall―” This time it was him who cut you off with a punch to the gut, sweeping you and pinning you just like you’d done to him.
“Oh how original,” you said dryly.
“Learned it from the best,” he said.
“Okay, for real this time,” you said as he helped you up. “Three, two, one.”
He attempted a punch to your face right off the bat, and your right arm blocked it whilst your left arm attempted a punch at his stomach. He blocked that and backed up two short shuffles, and you followed him. That was a big mistake. He caught you off guard with a hook kick―a gently hook kick, mind you, he didn’t want to decapitate you. Nevertheless, the blow knocked you onto your ass and you exhaled roughly before getting to your feet.
“You’re gonna regret that, love,” you said, getting back into a fighting stance. You let up your lower guard purposely, and he took the bait and went for a side kick. You charged him, landing a hard punch to his stomach as you pushed him onto the ground. You realised your mistake as you fell down with him, eliciting a small shriek as you went down. You fell on top of him and your face was centimeters from his.
“Well, now we both look like asses,” he said with a smile.
You smiled too and gave him a short, sweet kiss. “Correction: you look like an ass. A double ass. An ass-ass―”
“In… a compromising position, might I add,” said Natasha from the doorway. You quickly rolled off Bucky, sitting up and stammering to explain the situation in a completely incomprehensible way. “I didn’t know you two were dating,” she interrupted.
“We― well― I’m― we’re really― not― I mean―” Bucky stuttered.
“I get it. You want it to be a secret. Whatever.”
“Lemme guess, not gonna happen?” you sighed.
“Nope,” she said, smiling, whipping out her phone.
You looked at Bucky. “That is the last time I am sparring with you.”
“Are you sure? Because you said this morning that you looked forward to ‘sparring’ with me tonight,” he said with a wink. You threw your glove at him.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Which is Y/N for ‘I love you’?”
“Which is Y/N for ‘I love you’.”
Chapter 27: Wanna Run?
He knows the face. He knows them. And he'll keep coming back to them. Written in Bucky POV, 823 words.
i dont really have anything to say here.
i have work tomorrow why am i up at 2am
thanks for reading and feedback is always appreciated!
I didn’t know why I kept visiting them in the hospital. Whoever they were. I didn’t really know who they were, yet I cared so much about them. I strolled down the hallway in a dark sweatshirt, keeping the hood down to avoid looking too suspicious.
They were in room 2626. Second wing of the hospital, sixth floor, 26th room. I pushed aside the curtain. They were still asleep, and I walked over to them. A nurse pushed past me, muttering a quick apology.
“Sorry, I need to check Y/N’s vitals. You’re their boyfriend, I assume?” she asked. A horrified expression laced my face, my mouth opening slightly. I closed it.
“No,” I said shortly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, leave you to whatever you need to do,” she said, smiling and walking out of the room.
I sat next to their bed, gently taking their hand in mine. I stared at them for a few seconds. There was a weird feeling, a fluttering feeling, inside my chest. It was strange. “I don’t know why I keep visiting you, or why you’re making me feel like this, but I don’t like it,” I said bitterly, yet playfully. Why was I talking to them? They couldn’t hear me. I shouldn’t have been here. I dropped their hand back on the bed and stood. I left.
“Where the hell were you?” he yelled, slapping me hard. I didn’t respond. If I told him about Y/N, he’d kill them. Anything that stopped me from focusing completely and fully on my missions was eliminated. “Wipe him.” I took a deep breath, but didn’t dare say anything as the chair clamped me to it and subjected me to the undoing of myself, yet again.
Another mission, another success. Another person dead. Well, another large group of people dead.
I handed over my equipment as they stripped me of my tactical outfit again. The lab was my least favourite place. I was pushed into the chair. I blinked and an image crossed my mind just as my eyes shut. I exhaled roughly, blinking again. It was a face. A short flashback hit me, and I remembered seeing a face, sleeping, laying in the hospital. Who was that? Why was I holding onto their hand? What was the significance of that? Memories of this person had been coming back to me all day, and it was incredibly confusing.
“Looks like you don’t have to be wiped this time,” said one of my attendants. I didn’t reply.
After they’d put me into more comfortable clothing, they let me go out for awhile. Two hours, to be exact. I went to the hospital. I had a flashback on the way there. Going into the hospital, into room 2626. Seeing them there in the bed, and the nurse asking me if I was their boyfriend. I felt my face get hot, and huffed, blowing my hair out of my face.
I quickly made my way to the room. Y/Full/N, it said beside the door. I pushed my way inside, and there they were, sitting up, awake, watching television. They’d never been awake before, when I’d visited. They glanced over at me and briefly looked me up and down. “Hi,” they said with a sweet, nervous smile.
“Hello. You’re Y/N, correct?” I asked. I sounded like an idiot.
“Yeah…. Who are you? You look familiar,” they said, knitting their eyebrows together and tilting their head to the side like a puppy. Oh, it was so cute. There went the fluttery feeling in my chest again. It was horrible. Wait, they asked me a question. Who was I? I’d only ever been called “Winter Soldier” or “the Asset” before, and I didn’t want to blow my cover.
“I’m…uh…” I glanced around the room nervously. “I’m Latex…Latex Gloves. That’s my name, yeah,” I said shortly.
They laughed under their breath and smiled at me. “Okay, Mr. Gloves, any reason you’re here?”
“To see you. I, well, I’ve been visiting you a lot over the past few weeks, and you’ve always been asleep. I think I injured you whilst I was on a m―er, at work, and I came the first time to say I’m sorry, despite how much my boss protested, and I ended up finding you to be a very nice person……despite the fact that I’ve never spoken to you before. I think you’re very attractive and I keep on feeling this weird fluttering in my chest when I see you, and….I think I’m going to―”
“Okay, okay, stop, hold on,” they cut me off. “This whole story is sounding creepy, but a little sweet, so I’m gonna let it slide. You sound like you’re running from someone. I would assume…your...boss?”
“Yeah. Kind of.”
“Okay, I get out of this hellhole tomorrow morning. Wanna run?”
“Yeah, why the hell not?”
I grinned. “Yeah.”
Chapter 28: Letters (part 2)
part two to chapter 24, letters. enjoy!! 834 words.
Many more letters came and went throughout the war. It took two more years of it for the Axis Powers to back down. And finally, V-Day had come. You looked forward to being able to touch Bucky in all the ways you wished you could’ve before he went to war. Soon, you’d be able to go and stand amongst hundreds of other women and wait for him to get off the damn ship so you could kiss him ‘til he couldn’t think straight. And that was playing it down a bit.
Most women would probably wait until they got home to ravage their soldiers, but, alas, you weren’t most women. ‘Course, you weren’t going to rip off his uniform as soon as you saw him, or were you? ...No. No, you weren’t. But you were going to hold him and never let him go. And then give Steve a quick hug, then go back to Bucky, then you could make out in the cab ride home, and—no, you were getting ahead of yourself.
You quickly reapplied your lipstick, smoothed over your dress, then kissed Bashful goodbye as you made your way over to see your friends for what seemed like the first time in forever.
There weren’t as many people as you thought there’d be. You supposed you didn’t quite know how it worked, but you knew they’d be getting back today, at this dock. That’s what you’d been told. You were stuck near the back of the crowd, and you were grateful that that certain June day had chosen not to be too hot.
You saw the ship coming into sight, and it pulled into the harbor, and was there for quite a bit longer, no moving, no one getting off, nothing at all. Then, you heard the conversation pick up, and gates opening. You knew that him, Steve, and the rest of the Commandos would be off first, so you, attempting to be as unobnoxious as you possibly could, pushed past everyone in the crowd.
You spotted a mess of brown hair under a hat tilted slightly to the right, and your heart rate sped up; you became more apathetic, not caring who you had to shove out of the way. You got to the front of the crowd and saw finally him again, after two long, long years.
He looked more worn, more rugged. His hair was in dire need of a good cut, you could tell even under his hat. His uniform didn’t look any less used than it did the last time you saw him in it. He probably never wore it. His eyes looked darker, and he had a day of scruff. Not that you minded. But, he had his big, beautiful smile on his face, and you waved to him. “Bucky!” you yelled.
His eyes locked onto yours, and a huge look of relief swept his face. “Y/N,” he breathed, and your face broke out in a grin. You ran toward him and jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and his lips locking with yours. Your hands cupped the sides of his face and your thumbs traced his cheekbones. His arms supported you, holding you up so that he could kiss you harder. You were interrupted by Steve, who stood awkwardly next to you the two of you before clearing his throat.
Whatever. You were smiling too hard to keep kissing him anyway.
Bucky let you down, though not out of his arms, and you kissed him several more times before wiggling out of his grasp temporarily to squeeze Steve as hard as you could, now that ‘as hard as you could’ wouldn’t break his ribs. He hugged you back, not as hard as he could, because now ‘as hard as he could’ would break your ribs. He kissed the top of your head and ruffled your hair and pushed you back over to Bucky, who you continued to kiss and tell you loved him.
Steve rolled his eyes.
An hour or so later, you were back at your apartment; everyone had just finished eating takeout pizza from a restaurant that was on the way back. Of course, Steve had to go in and get it, because you were too busy making out with Bucky in the backseat of the waiting cab.
That cost you about seven more dollars.
Now, you were lying on the sofa, listening to the radio. Normally, Bucky would be up and dancing, but you assumed he was sleepy, and just wanted to hold you. His face was buried in your hair and his arms were wrapped securely around your waist. Steve smiled fondly at the two of you. There was no more anxiety, no jealousy, no secrets. “Well, it’s about damn time, he said.
“Punk,” Bucky said.
“Jerk,” Steve said.
And even in falling in love with one of your best friends, you didn’t lose the other one. And that was the most you could ask for.
Chapter 29: Ravioli, Lobotomies, and Cole Sprouse
the reader is having nightmares and leaves the apartment she and bucky share to clear her mind and accidnetally leaves her phone and gets lost for a couple of hours and when she gets back she finds a very distraught bucky and messed up apartment. 803 words.
yes these are all based off of real nightmares ive had dont judge
ps these chapters im posting now are all like 3 years old and i just havent updated in forever im sorry
Your eyes flashed open, and you were breathing heavily. You had another freakish nightmare, and after this one, there was no way you’d get back to sleep. You knew that eventually you’d get over it, but this one was especially horrifying.
And it’s not like you had normal-person nightmares. No, you had nightmares like having your legs turned into ravioli in front of your eyes or being drowned by Cole Sprouse. Tonight’s horror was getting a lobotomy with glow sticks. You sat up in bed, rubbed your eyes and pulled on some clothes. You were going to go for a walk.
It was 3am, which meant Central Park was closed, so check that off the list. You and Bucky lived in Avengers Tower, which was only a ten minute walk from Times Square...and, I mean, Times Square never closed. You had to admit, you liked the place, and it was usually never incredibly crowded this early in the morning. So you started on your way over there, pulling on a sweatshirt, leggings, and boots and venturing out of your apartment.
“Out so early, Miss Y/L/N?” Jarvis asked as you stepped into the elevator.
“Nightmare. Couldn’t sleep,” you replied shortly.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Wher―” his voice was cut off by the door opening, and you stepped out.
“Thanks, Jarvs,” you mumbled as you walked through the lobby, and out the door.
When you arrived, you sat on the red stairs, right in the middle. There were only about ten other people on the stairs, and they were all around the outside. You soaked in the energy of the place. You inhaled and smiled. You loved Times Square. It was so easy to forget everything here. Plus, it was nice to be alone every now and then. Well, as alone as you could be in Manhattan. You sat, staring at the adverts, drinking in all the information they had to offer. Frankly, it was pretty brief. A few upcoming musicals, a few American Eagle ads of girls playing in their underwear. A chill ghosted over your neck and you cursed yourself for not bringing a scarf.
One of the large, bright signs read “5:03 AM”. Had you really been here for almost two hours? You fidgeted with your sleeves for a few moments, then decided to head back.
Jarvis didn’t say anything to you in the elevator. You reached your floor and glanced at the door. There was a silver spike sticking out of it. It was sharp. You pushed open the door and were met with an interesting scene.
Bucky was sitting on the floor, glaring at the flipped-over table, and breathing heavily. Furniture and pillows were everywhere, and― well, let’s just say the entire apartment was wrecked . “...Bucky?” you said timidly, shutting the door behind you. There was the handle of a knife jutting out of the back of the door. “Did you throw a knife into the door?”
“Where the hell were you?!” he asked, looking like he was about to cry. “I―I thought you―”
“Hey, hey, hey...” you eased, making your way over to him. You kneeled across from him and set your hand on his upper arm. “I’m here, okay? I’m fine. I had a nightmare and went to Times Square for awhile, no big deal.” Your right hand came up to cup his face, and your thumb brushed tears off his cheek. “Bucky, listen. I’m fine. ”
“I woke up and you weren’t there, no note or anything, I called you and you weren’t answering your phone...”
“Must’ve left it here, I’m sorry.” You smoothed your left hand through his hair. “Everything’s okay.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “You alright?” you aked. He inhaled deeply and nodded. “Okay, good.” You pressed a long, sweet kiss to his lips then rested your forehead on his.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed. You stayed silent. Your left hand came up against his face as well; your eyes opening to meet his. “I’ll clean this up in the morning.”
A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you pulled away from him. “It’s 5:30am.”
“Yeah, and I missed a few hours of sleep because you left,” he said, interlocking his fingers with yours.
“Okay, c’mon.” You stood, leading him by the hand to the bedroom. You climbed back under the covers and pulled him close to you, pressing your face into his shoulder.
“Love you,” he muttered.
“Love you more,” you responded.
Just as you began to drift off, the phone rang. You groaned and picked it up. Jarvis.
“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Stark requires your presence immediately.”
“Yeah, well, tell Mr. Stark to fuck off for me, Jarvis.”
“At your request, Miss Y/L/N.”
“Thanks.” You hung up.
Chapter 30: And What a Home It Was
one where him and the reader move into their first house/apartment/living space. 550 words.
God damnit, that was the third time my skirt’s snagged on the railing , you thought to yourself, straining to keep the box up as you removed half of its support to fix your dress. It would be so much easier if I could just wear pants. How come it’s only the men that get to wear pants, eh? Skirts are so impra —
Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your bottom, and a voice behind you saying, “Let’s move, doll, these boxes are heavy.” You suddenly realized that you were simply standing in the middle of the stairway, your box supported by the rail and your right hand, mumbling to yourself. With a jolt, you took up the box again and again trekked up the stairs. God, he must think I’m a lunatic, just standin’ there like that , you thought. Though the soft chuckle from behind you and the glint of a small diamond on your finger said otherwise.
The door was propped open, thank God, you thought you would’ve died, goin’ up one more flight of stairs. You set the box you were carrying on top of the ever-growing stack labeled with your name. (Actually, there were probably three total, but a girl could dream, couldn’t she?) The boxes Bucky was assigned to carry up contained the few plates, cups and silverware you had, and the boxes you were assigned held clothes, bedding, and your record collection.
People don’t tend to think vinyl is very heavy til you gotta carry it up four flights of stairs.
After pulling the bed down from the wall, you opened a box and piled your three pillows and six quilts atop the bed and sat down. The only other furniture you had was a nightstand, your favorite chair and a bookcase, which had all already been brought up. You sighed at the thought of unpacking, but it was still midday, and you had nothing else to do.
Bucky sat down next to you on the bed and placed his hand on your back. “Babe, whaddya say, since we spent the whole day running up and downstairs, we head over to that diner across the street and I’ll buy us dinner,” he said, motioning out the window. Though you were apprehensive about spending the money you didn’t have, you eagerly nodded, then suddenly being hit by a wave of fatigue. You rested your head on Bucky’s shoulder and his arm slipped from your back and settled around your waist. “What’s eatin’ ya, darlin’?”
You looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “This is our home, Buck. This is ours, all this...” You motioned to the small apartment, and the few boxes you had. “In a few months, we’ll be married, then...” You trailed off and sighed, then turned to him and smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you too, doll,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of your head, then standing and holding his hand out. “So c’mon, babe, let’s go.”
And you went, and you ate and talked of your future, of your past and your present. And that night you slept better than you had in a long while, cuddled close to the man you loved more than anything in your own home.
And what a home it was.
Chapter 31: Months
the one where the reader finds bucky in wakanda after the winter soldier and he begs her not to tell steve, so she stays with him for all that time and they spend so much time together and eventually fall for each other. and years after, when steve finds bucky. he’s really angry at the reader but bucky defends her immediately, and like the reader can calm bucky during his moments and bucky does the same with the reader and stuff
lol these descriptions are literally just the requests i got on tumblr im so lazy BYE
You stumble into the camp, the alcohol pumping through your veins, your face pulled into a permanent grin. Your friends practically had to carry you home after all of the shit you’d done at the party. You throw your head back, a deep laugh rumbling through you. “I wanna feel like this forever. I feel like a fucking god!” you shout, your fingers sliding along the seams on the shoulder of your friend’s jacket. A moment of silence overcomes you, and you feel a swell of affection in your chest. “I love you guys,” you slur, laughing.
She laughs too, and he smiles and ruffles your hair. “You’re a good kid,” he says.
“I love you guys,” you repeat. “I love you guys.”
You sit alone on your bunk. The camp feels empty without them. You see her smile in your mind, then a flash of his unshaven face. You bring your hands to your face. They’re still shaking. You haven’t brought yourself to cry just yet. You scrunch up your face, but nothing comes. You pull away your hands. They’re stained with patches of red. You see her smile again, this time twisted into a sickening grin.
“Don’t make me do this, Lynn.”
“You think you’re strong enough to pull that trigger? You’re just a baby trying to live in the big kid world, Y/N! Don’t you understand? You’ve never been strong enough before, and you aren’t strong enough now! You couldn’t do anything to stop me even if you wanted to!”
Your hands shake harder. You’re afraid to blink. If you do, you’ll see them. All the bodies. Everyone, dead. All because of you. Her laugh echoes in your head.
But now, she will never hurt anyone ever again.
You wipe the blood off your mouth with the back of your hand.
You look down at your basket: a pack of drill bits, a gallon of bleach, a pint of ice cream, and a bottle of vodka. You quickly pull out the few coins you have left and filter through them to see if you have enough. You hear a soft chuckle from behind you. “Rough night?”
You turn to see a young-looking man in a red hoodie, dark hair framing his scruffy-looking face. “Look who’s talking,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and turning your back to him.
“Ooh, that was harsh,” he says, though his tone is playful.
“I’m sorry, I’m just not in the mood to be mocked by strangers. I have shit to do.”
“So it is a rough night?” You shoot him a glare from over your shoulder. “Hey, alright, I’m sorry. What are you trying to do? Maybe I can help.”
“Are you serious?” You try and focus on your coins.
“I mean, I don’t have much else to do.”
“I don’t even know you! You could be a serial killer!” you shout, whipping around to face him. You notice his eyes for the first time. They’re steely blue, kind but uncertain. He stiffens at the accusation, but his eyes stay the same. The realization sinks in. “N...you...you’re...”
He flips from tense to panicked, hunching over and putting his hands out. He shushes you, looking to his left and right. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?!”
“I’ll prove it to you.”
“How do you plan on doing that? I should really just call the Avengers right now, I’m sure they’d be real happy to find the man who dismantled their entire—”
“Shut up!” He pushes his gloved hands out at you, not daring to touch you. He whispers, “Shut up, or you’re gonna get me killed.” He looks around again. “Just...come with me.”
“At least tell me what to call you first.”
He pauses, searching.
It had been a year since the day everything fell apart. You had pulled yourself away from everyone. You no longer lived in the camp. You had been living in an apartment in the city, and it was only a little bit shabby.
Bucky, who was just a stranger who happened to be in the same grocery store as you at the same time of night, had somehow become your second half. Maybe it was the countless number of nights wasted in tiny pubs with him, slowly breaking down each other’s walls, healing each other. Maybe it was the fact that he was just as, if not more, fucked up as you.
You told him about how you’d ended up here, about the camp, and about the two of them. How you remembered their smiles and their laughs and the way they held their guns. He told you about Steve and about Hydra, and about the Russians and about S.H.I.E.L.D. He told you everything he could remember as it all came back to him, and you started writing it all down. After a month, you gave him what you had, and told him to read it all over each night before bed, and if he could remember anything else, to write that down too.
You’d started drinking less since you met him, and talking more. You started to think to pick up a phone before picking up a bottle.
Maybe all you needed was a friend.
“I think God hates me,” you say, breaking the silence.
He scoffs. “That makes two of us.”
You glance over at him. He sits next to you on the dirty mattress in his apartment. The orange sunlight filters in through the window, painting him gold.
“Too many years of trusting the wrong people, I think. He just gave up on me.” You laugh bitterly.
The room goes quiet for a moment. You watch a bead of water slide down the side of your bottle. “Well, actually, I take that back.”
“Take what back?”
“That God hates me.”
You raise your eyebrows. “That’s where you’re better than me. I wouldn’t have that kind of attitude if I went through what you’ve been through.”
“It has nothing to do with what I’ve been through.” You turn and look at him. He has a small smile on his lips, something you rarely get to see. “It’s more about the people I’ve met.”
He turns to look back at you, and you feel your cheeks getting hot. He scans your face, his eyes lingering on your lips, then coming back up to your eyes. Your hand moves up to cup his face. Your name slips from his lips. You shush him. You lean in. You kiss him. It’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed.
You wake to a punch in the ribs – it’s not your preferred method. You groan, clutching your side as you blink yourself awake. The glowing red numbers across the room tell you that it’s 3:15 in the morning. On the other side of the bed, Bucky is tangled in the sheets, covered in sweat, what he can muster of a sob coming from the back of his throat. His muscles are tense, his hands are up, guarding his face. You’re careful not to get hit again as you shake him awake, yelling his name. At this point, you don’t care about waking him gently. The quicker you can pull him out of the hell that is his nightmares, the better. His eyes, clenched shut, slowly flutter open, but the fear lingers in his expression.
His face relaxes as he recognizes you. You pull him into your arms, and he bursts into tears. His hands dig into your back. One of your hands smooths the hair on the back of his head, and the other rubs his back gently.
“It’s okay, Bucky, it was just a dream. You’re safe with me. You’re safe.”
You continue to hold him until his sobs turn to heavy breaths, then to whimpers, then to regular breaths. You know neither of you will be falling back asleep, so you mentally prepare a plan for the morning.
Barely audible under the sound of both of you breathing, you hear a faint, “Thank you.”
It was probably the wrong moment to realize that you’d never seen an angry blond man before.
Correction: It was definitely the wrong time to realize that you’d never seen an angry blond man before.
“A year? An entire year? Every time he mentioned me, you didn’t think that I might have been looking for him? What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t blame her because you couldn’t find me, Steve! Maybe I didn’t wanna be found!”
“We were just trying to help you, Buck.”
“And I didn’t want to be found, I needed time. I met her. She helped me. She healed me. She helped take the Soldier out of me.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? The old me back? You just wanted the old Bucky back.”
A look of shock and disgust comes over Steve’s face. He swallows and his expression neutralizes. He says quietly, “I just missed you...jerk.”
A mischievous smile creeps onto Bucky’s face.
Steve catches Bucky in a bear hug, and they stay like that for a while.
Chapter 32: Promise
reader has a nightmare, and bucky knows exactly how to make her feel better when she wakes up. 1317 words. nsfw.
The sound of the bombs is deafening. You don’t know how soldiers deal with this. You don’t know how anyone deals with this. The bangs never stop. The room you’re in is pitch black. You can only see a tiny blue light in the corner, blinking. On, pause, off, pause, on, pause, off, pause.
You don’t know how long you’ve been in here. You can’t remember how you got in here. It’s cold, and the floor is slightly damp. You think the bombs are going to make you lose your mind. The door is yanked open, and you see the silhouette of a man, surrounded by more of the same blue light.
“Oh, god, someone, finally–” you begin.
With two short steps, he’s in front of you. You can’t see him any more clearly. A hand comes down and clamps around your arm. He drags you out of the room. You still can’t move. You can’t resist. You’re a ragdoll. You shout. You can’t be heard over the bombs. He opens a door and bright white light overcomes you. You hear your name. You blink until your eyes adjust. Tied to a chair across the room, looking rough but still handsome as ever, is your husband, Sergeant James Barnes.
There’s a cut right above his temple, and a line of blood is dried to his face underneath it. He’s got about three days worth of scruff on his face, and his hair is messy. But whatever tension there was in his mood was lifted instantly when he saw you. He yells your name again. A tall man standing behind him, who you hadn’t noticed, says, “It would be wise, soldier, to stay quiet.”
“What are you doing with her?” Bucky yells.
The man doesn’t answer.
Instead, the one still gripping your arm kicks you in the ribs. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Bucky screams. You wince and spit blood onto the floor. The man next to him sends a hard blow to his jaw. You muster a scream.
“Funny,” the man says, “I thought you would do that.”
The next few seconds are a blur as you’re dragged – this time by your hair – and dropped right in front of Bucky. You steady yourself, putting your hands on his knees. You look into his eyes. The man behind him shifts. You hear the bombs again, though this time closer, louder, sharper. You wince. When you open your eyes, Bucky’s head is hung, his eyes open, a hole in his face. You scream.
Two seconds later, you’re somewhere else. It feels like the dark room again, though this time softer, kinder. You feel a pair of warm, rough hands on your shoulders and the realization slowly begins to sink in that it was just a dream. You open your eyes and there’s your husband again, this time alive. His blue eyes are muddled by the darkness of the room, but you can still see the concern in them.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” you mumble, sitting up. He nods and rubs your back, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head on his chest and he sets his chin on the top of your head.
“No need to apologize, doll,” he says. “Do you need to talk about it?”
With your ear against his chest, you can hear his heartbeat. It’s steady.
“Another one about losing you. Those are always...those are always worse than any other nightmares I have.”
“What was it this time?”
“I...” You hesitate. “I don’t know. It was weird.”
“Well I’m alive, I’m here, okay?” He gently lifts your chin so that your lips are close, so that you’re sharing breaths. “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
You tilt your chin up and kiss him, and he kisses you back. His lips are soft, and you can feel a tiny amount of stubble on his face. The familiar but intoxicating scent of his cologne overcomes you as you bring him closer and closer. You’ll never get used to the feeling you get when you kiss him. Like you’re falling, or flying, or something. He moves his hand from your chin to the side of your face. You tilt your head into his hand and open your mouth slightly more to deepen the kiss. He mirrors you, and his tongue slides over yours.
This is not what you expected after waking up from a nightmare, but you can’t complain.
You slowly move to lay back down, and he shifts to hover over you, positioning one of his legs between your thighs. One of his hands finds your waist, the other is tangled in your hair. He pulls your head back, kissing across your jaw, and then down your neck. You feel heat welling up in the pit of your stomach and a soft moan escapes your lips. You roll your hips into him, grinding against his leg as he kisses lower and lower. You arch your back and he finds the hem of your nightgown, pulling away for a second to ask, “May I?”
“Yes, please,” you reply. With a single motion, he pulls it off your body and over your head, and tosses it on the floor. Now, the only thing separating the two of you was the thin fabric of his boxers. His lips found their way to your collarbone, and he was kissing a line from the hollow of your throat, down between your breasts. His hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast, squeezing gently. You release a soft gasp and arch your back again. He takes your nipple in his mouth and kisses it before catching the hardened nub between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. “Jesus, Bucky,” you moan. Your hands comb through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp. He practically purrs at the feeling. His other hand slides down your side and rests on your hip, and he kisses across to your other breast, and then down, drawing a line – no, a big flashing arrow – to exactly where he’s going.
You don’t remember spreading your legs as wide as you did. But as soon as his face is nestled perfectly between your thighs, you can’t think of anything else. He asks again, “You good with this?”
You half-laugh-half-moan when you say, “More than good with it.”
He starts with a long lick from your hole to your clit, spreading your wetness all over your cunt. He lets out a growl, saying, “You’ve gotten nice and wet for me, haven’t you?” His dirty talking makes you moan, and the hand that isn’t tangled in his soft brown hair comes up to cup your breast. His lips find you again, his tongue tracing patterns over your pussy. He plants a soft kiss on your clit, sucking a bit. Your mind goes fuzzy at the sensation and his name slips out of your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes then?” he says, cockiness in his voice.
“Hnnnf, shut up,” you manage. He slips his tongue inside of you for a second, and then moves back to working your clit, swirling around it, kissing it, sucking on it. The knot grows in the pit of your stomach, and you feel yourself approaching your climax. “Oh god, Bucky, please. I’m so close. Please don’t stop, oh my god.” He hums contentedly. You feel your muscles tense up and your mouth hangs open as you feel your orgasm come on. The heat from the pit of your stomach spreads, growing down into your legs and up your torso, out into your arms. Your breathing quickens, and your hand involuntarily pulls his hair, to which he moans. He gives you one last full lick before pulling away. He rests his head on your stomach and matches his breathing to yours as it slows.
“How was that?” he laughs.
“Well, I’ve forgotten about my nightmare, that’s for sure.”
He laughs and crawls back up to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. “Glad I could help.”
“Now, to thank you, I should really return the favor, don’t you think?” you ask, smirking.
“I can’t say I object.”
Chapter 33: Tag Yourself
reader watches a documentary on conspiracy theories and bucky joins them. 1706 words.
sorry this meme is old as fuck just like this oneshot but whatever :)
You finally sat down. Breathe, Y/N. Testing doesn’t even start until tomorrow. You’ll be fine. You’ve been preparing for this for so long. You’ve got this , you thought to yourself. You took a deep breath.
The tests for your latest project in the lab started tomorrow, which meant gathering up facts and figures last minute and making sure everything was set up perfectly for the next day. Unfortunately, the second you got home, your mind went elsewhere. After a long day in the lab, you always needed three things: tea, documentaries, and a goddamn nap. You poured a new type of earl grey that someone had picked you up whilst they were in England and sat down on the sofa, curling your legs underneath you like usual. Tea, check .
Living in Avengers Tower was weird. It’s not like you were technically an Avenger, I mean, you just worked in the lab. Well, to be fair, you were one of the top mechanical engineers in Manhattan (and god only knows the Avengers needed that). You never kicked ass or went out on missions or anything, but you were always ready to do repairs as soon as they got back, especially in Bucky’s case. You were typically the first face he saw when he wearily opened his eyes for the first time again after a tough mission. This tended to be the case for all of the teched-up Avengers. You were close enough to the team to be considered, as Sam called you, an “Avenger-in-law”. You were never sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.
You would train with them, and hold mitts and punching bags, or gladly sit on their backs whilst they did push ups. You ate with them, watched movies with them, and led group therapy sessions with them. It was nice to have a family of sorts, even if it was crazy and fucked up and half made-up of superhumans and half made-up of geniuses. As cheesy as it was, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.
You turned on the TV and flipped through the channels to find a good nature or history documentary. There was something about nonfiction that wasn’t quite trash TV, but still a little weird, that just got you going. Your eyes fell on a conspiracy theory special, and your eyes lit up.
An hour in, you were absolutely engaged. You were questioning everything you’ve ever known. Was the moon landing fake? Was the government hiding secrets about aliens? Was 9/11 an inside job? Was time made up by the government?
You were pulled out of your thoughts by a familiar voice saying, “Y/N, are you okay? I’ve been listening to you mumble to yourself for the past half hour and I didn’t wanna be rude so I didn’t say anything, but I just heard the word ‘antichrist’ so now I’m actually concerned.”
“Ah, Bucky, hey! You’re old, right?”
“Shut up, you know you’re old. Anyway--” He let out a soft laugh, something too rare to your ears. “I made the mistake of starting to watch these conspiracy theories and stuff, and now, like, everything I’ve ever known is a lie and how weird is it that you’re like 100 and look like that?” You motioned to his whole body. “Fuckin’...science, dude!” He laughed again, louder this time, a blush creeping onto his cheeks at your compliment. “Hey, you’re not doing anything right now right? Trick question, I know you’re not. C’mere.” You patted the space on the sofa next to you.
He shrugged and sat down next to you. He turned, and you sat in silence, your eyes not leaving the screen whilst his eyes took you in. “You’re a funny gal, you know that?” he finally said in that voice. You know the one. The deeper, flirty, played-up Brooklyn-accented ‘soldier just lookin’ for a good time’ voice. The one you recognize instantly every time he tries to use it on you. Yeah, that one.
“That doesn’t work on me, Bucky, you know that,” you said, your eyes still not leaving the screen.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Barnes.”
“Oooh, last name, huh?”
You dropped your stoic facade. You let out a giggle and a “Shut up!”, gently elbowing him in the side, a wide grin plastered across your face.
Bucky laughed. He threw his arm across your shoulders and pulled you into him. “There’s my girl.”
You overheard the narrator of the documentary say in a serious voice, “Number eight: the moon landing,” as you nuzzled closer into Bucky’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder. He splayed out his fingers over your shoulder and rubbed your arm before his hand finally settled on your bicep. He had an odd habit of not knowing what to do with his hands when he was sitting with you. Since he would often fidget and his hands would wander, you were sure that soon, his hands would end up somewhere else, and you didn’t have a problem with that.
The narrator’s velvety voice filled the room, explaining how they couldn’t have possibly landed on the moon, considering the way the flag was waving when there’s no air in space, and how there were mistakes in all of the pictures, making them look staged. In his best smooth jazz voice, Bucky mocked, “When Neil Armstrong took his first steps on the moon, who placed the camera outside to video it? Hmmm....” and the impression was just so scarily precise that you burst into another giggling fit.
You threw your head back and laughed, “Where the hell did that come from?!”
Through his own laughter, Bucky managed, “I don’t know!” You looked up at him, still giggling.
“I haaate youu,” you teased.
“Please, you absolutely love me.”
“No, I don’t. I haaate you.”
“Lieeeesss!” he hissed. He put his other arm around you, pulling you into an unbearably tight bear hug.
“Aaaah! Okay, fine, fine! I admit it!”
But his arms didn’t budge. “Say it.”
“I don’t hate you!” you said, shaking your head melodramatically.
“Fiiiine, I love you...but only a little bit.”
“I’ll take it. But I don’t know if I want to let you go just yet...”
“Bucky, please!” you whined.
He laughed. “Okay, okay.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and released you.
“God, I thought I was gonna suffocate under all that... man !” He raised his eyebrows, keeping his eyes forward. “Don’t...” you warned.
“I never said anything.”
As the moon landing section of the documentary dragged on, you started getting bored of the repetition.
“Tag yourself: I’m the producer of the movie studio that spent all this time making this obviously fake video,” you said dryly.
“I’m the astronaut that no one believes actually did all the shit they did.”
You choked on your tea for a second while Bucky laughed.
Eventually the sun went down and the hot summer day cooled off. You admired the skyline against the sunset through the huge glass walls in the Tower’s common room. The sherbert-ey oranges blended perfectly against the sweet pastel pinks and soft lavenders. The warm yellows and baby blues high in the sky contrasted perfectly against the deep reds of down below. “This city never ceases to amaze me,” you said, breathlessly. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth against you, and your emotions reflecting into the colors of the sky.
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” Bucky recited.
“Tag yourself, I’m the little streak of pink trying to make it with the big kids up there.”
“I’m the...overwhelming amount of yellow in the sky right now.”
“Tell me about it.” As your eyes scanned across the scene, you interjected the silence, “Wait! I change my answer! I’m the couple fucking against the window two floors down in the building across from us!”
He exhaled. “They always think it’s some kinda kinky, but it’s just gross.”
“I don’t know, I think I’d be open to trying it. Sneakily, though!”
Bucky scoffed. “Of course you would be.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what that means.”
“James Buchanan Barnes...are you...kinkshaming me?”
“Maybe I am.”
“I’ll have you know that I am highly offended and that I think you, as an elder, should be wise and practice acceptanc--”
“I can’t believe you.”
“--in our great community known as Avengers Tower and that you’re setting an example for all of the little children out there like...uh...Clint’s kids! And Scott’s daughter. What would they think if they knew--”
“I don’t know why we’re even friends.”
“--that a great old man such as yourself was out there fighting crime, and kinkshaming ! I think they would be shocked and appalled--”
“Those are synonyms.”
“--and OUTRAGED to know that someone such as yourself that they look up to is kinkshaming.”
“Are you done?”
“ President Kennedy’s body was illegally moved from Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas to the Bethesda Naval Hospital by secret service agents. Even though it was the president’s body, this was still against the law at that time, before an autopsy was performed. Elm Street, the street Kennedy was killed on, has a 120 degree turn. Standard Secret Service motorcade protocol allows a maximum of a 90 degree turn .”
You yawned. The stars peppered across the now night sky were barely visible past the vast bright lights of the city. The same narrator drawled on, and the room had gone still. You heard the faint sound of Bucky’s breathing.
“Tag yourself. I’m the grassy knoll.”
No response. Was he asleep? You shifted to look at his face and saw Bucky’s very much open eyes, which soon met yours. “Did you hear me?” you asked softly, almost in a whisper. His eyes diverted back to the screen and a tiny smile grew on his face. You repeated cautiously, “Tag yourself, I’m the grassy knoll.”
His face was a blend of sullen and smug.
“Tag yourself, I’m the assassin.”
You gasped. “That was you?”
“Sure is ironic that my girl likes conspiracy theories so much when I am like 90 percent of them, isn’t it?”