emma

Bucky noticed it first during training. Not because you missed a shot, you never do, but because you laughed.

It was bright and sudden, the kind of laugh echoing across the compound’s training room as Steve nearly lost his balance after Sam distracted him with a sarcastic comment.

Natasha snorted.

Clint applauded dramatically.

Even Bruce looked up from his tablet.

And then your eyes found Bucky.

You grinned. “There he is,” you announced, pointing at him. “The one person who didn’t laugh.”

“I laughed.”

“You breathed slightly harder.”

“That’s laughing.”

“You need lessons.”

Before he could answer, you were already jogging toward him, sweat clinging to your forehead, hair escaping your ponytail. Without asking, you stole the water bottle from his hands, took a sip and handed it back.

He drank from the exact spot your lips touched.

Sam caught it. “Ew.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You two have become disgustingly domestic.”

“We’re sharing water.”

“You looked at the bottle like it proposed to you.”

You burst into laughter again.

Bucky only shrugged.

“Maybe it did.”

No one remembered exactly when the two of you became the couple.

One day, you were teammates who always partnered on missions.

The next, you were somehow inseparable.

Maybe it started because your fighting styles complemented each other. You moved quickly, reading situations before they unfolded, while Bucky was the immovable force that protected your openings. You trusted each other’s instincts without speaking.

Or maybe it started with late-night coffee after missions?

Patching each other up in the medical bay?

Silent conversations in the gym at two in the morning?

Eventually, Tony walked into the kitchen one morning, saw Bucky making your favorite breakfast while you leaned sleepily against the counter wearing his sweatshirt, and simply turned around.

“Nope.”

“What?”

“I’m not emotionally prepared for this level of healthy.”

Mission briefings become easier, not because you’re dating but because you understand each other.

Steve pointed at the holographic map. “You’ll enter from the east.”

Bucky shook his head. “No.”

Steve blinked. “No?”

Bucky looked at you.

You studied the projection for exactly three seconds. “The ventilation shaft.”

Steve sighed. “Why the ventilation shaft?”

“The eastern corridor bottlenecks.” You explained.

“They’ll expect two entry teams…” Bucky added.

“…and the cameras rotate every thirty-one seconds.” You nodded toward Bucky, finishing the phrase.

Steve slowly looked between both of you. “You already had this conversation?”

“No.”

“You literally finished each other’s tactical plan.”

You and Bucky exchanged a confused glance. “We did?”

Natasha smirked. “It’s getting creepy.”

People think dating the Winter Soldier was intimidating.

They’re wrong.

The first time he officially asked you out, he nearly crumbled on his legs. He decided to take a walk in the park. The afternoon was perfect and the sun was bright in the sky.

He took your hand, with his flesh one of course, and intertwined his fingers around yours. You looked up at him, smiling. He marked that day as the start of his new life. He glanced at a bench, under a big and towering tree. He guided you, letting you sit before sitting himself. You both began to talk about everything.

Mission, late night snack, Steve being the mama of the group and nightmares.

“Sometimes,” he began. “I think this is a giant dream I’m living… and that I’ll wake up sweaty…” he looked down.

“It’s not,” you grabbed his chin. “It’s very much real, Bucky.” You said, sweetly.

You kept talking, and Bucky yawned… or that was what you thought.

He looked ahead of him, and rose his arm. You took a peak with the corner of your eyes of his air hanging in the air and smiled. Feeling the pressure of his arm on your shoulder, you looked at the hand he put on your shoulder.

When you turned your head, he smiled.

A real smile.

“Trying to find the perfect moment…” he left the phrase hanging.

You didn’t wait.

Raising your hand on his chin, you pulled him toward you.

His arm slid from your shoulder to your arm, then around your waist, pulling you more into him. Your both arms went straight up around his neck. The kiss was deep but sweet. He grabbed your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. You moved closer to him too, wanting zero space between you. As you felt your breath heavy, you pulled out for a second.

Resting your forehead against his, you smile.

You puffy and red lips matching his. You both smile and then he kissed you again.

Even tho in the park Bucky was the sweetest man alive, it was also true that the scary version of Bucky existed. It was the one the world knew and the one enemies whispered about. The version of him who could dismantle ten armed men before anyone realizes he was moving.

You knew someone else.

You knew someone who quietly tucked blankets around you when you accidentally felt asleep on the couch. Someone who memorized exactly how you took your coffee after asking only once. Someone who pretended not to like romantic movies but somehow always remembered your favorite scenes. Someone who apologized to spiders before carrying them outside.

“You don’t have to save every bug,” you told him one evening.

“They live here too.”

“It’s my apartment.”

“They’re paying rent emotionally.”

You stared. “…Emotionally?”

“They’re supportive.”

“They’re spiders.”

“They’ve never judged me.”

You kissed his cheek. “I definitely love the weird version.”

The mission in Prague was supposed to be routine.

Retrieve stolen Stark tech, neutralize minimal resistance, and get out.

Instead, the facility erupted.

A sudden explosion tore through the lower levels, sending a violent shudder through the concrete structure. The lights flickered, died and emergency red beams flooded the corridors. Worst of all, the comms went dead. One second you were coordinating with the team, and the next, static flooded your earpiece. You were trapped on the fourth floor; Bucky was somewhere three levels below.

“Bucky?” You called out, pressing a hand to your ear.

Nothing.

Your chest tightened, heartbeat accelerating. “Bucky, do you copy?!”

Still nothing.

Three floors down, Bucky caught the desperate edge of your voice for a fraction of a second before the connection entirely dissolved into white noise.

It was enough.

He didn’t wait for orders.

He didn’t wait for Steve.

He just ran.

Years of tactical restraint evaporated under the sudden, suffocating weight of panic. When a collapsed section of the stairwell blocked his path, he didn’t look for an alternate route. He used his vibranium arm to tear through the crumbling concrete like wet cardboard. Enemy agents emerged from the smoke, but they barely registered his presence before they were neutralized.

One tried to draw a weapon, another one never got the chance.

In the dim, flashing emergency lights, the terrifying shadow of the Winter Soldier had returned… but he wasn’t acting as an assassin.

He was a protector.

On the fourth floor, you weren’t exactly waiting around to be saved. Three mercenaries already lay unconscious at your feet, and a fourth crashed clean through a glass partition after you kicked him squarely in the chest.

Still, you were cornered.

The heavy footsteps of reinforcements echoed down the hall. Bracing yourself against a heavy laboratory desk, you adjusted your stance. “You picked the wrong Avenger.”

Then, the door exploded.

It didn’t just break, it shattered completely.

The reinforced steel tore completely free from its hinges, flying across the room and embedding itself into the opposite wall. Before the dust could even settle, Bucky blurred through the opening.

His movements were a masterclass in controlled violence. One punch deactivated the first guard. A spinning kick sent the second flying. The final mercenary barely managed to lift his rifle before Bucky disarmed him, threw him to the floor, and rendered him unconscious.

Suddenly, the room fell dead silent. Bucky stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving, his eyes wild as they scanned the room until they finally locked onto you.

He crossed the space between you in a single stride.

“Are you hurt?” He demanded.

Despite the smoke, the alarms and the adrenaline spiking in your veins, you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m okay.”

Bucky let out a shaky breath, stepping in close to cup your face with both hands. The cold vibranium of his left hand and the warmth of his right flesh hand were equally gentle against your skin. “You scared me,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek.

You glanced over his shoulder at the catastrophic ruin of the entryway. “You blew up a door.”

“It was locked,” he defended flatly.

Reaching into your tactical vest, you pulled out a small plastic rectangle. “I had the key-card.”

Bucky stared at the card. Then he looked back at your face, his expression entirely unbothered. “…Oh.”

“Yeah…”

He dropped his hands, though he didn’t step away. “I regret nothing.”

Back at the Avengers Compound, the story inevitably leaked.

Tony nearly fell out of his swivel chair laughing, holding a tablet displaying the tactical readout. “You destroyed reinforced, military-grade steel. With your bare hands.”

“It was faster,” Bucky muttered from the couch, arms crossed.

“She had the key, Barnes!” Tony shouted, wiping a tear from his eye. “The door was literally unlocked for her!”

“I know that now.”

Steve sat at the briefing table, pinching the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt to ward off a headache. “What does the property damage report look like?”

Tony waved a hand dismissively, still grinning like a madman. “Don’t worry, Cap. I’ll bill Barnes.”

Steve looked up, deadpan. “You own the building, Tony.”

“I don’t care,” Tony smirked, glancing back at Bucky. “I’m still billing him.”

Life at the compound wasn’t all lighthearted bickering and easy victories. There were difficult days, too. Healing wasn’t a linear path, no matter how much time passed.

Some mornings, Bucky woke from nightmares sweating and panting, convinced he was still trapped in a freezing Siberian laboratory or stranded on a muddy battlefield in 1944.

Some evenings, the phantom echoes of his past were simply louder than the present.

On those nights, he never had to explain himself. You simply sat beside him on the floor of his bedroom or out on the dark balcony. Sometimes your fingers would intertwine, anchoring him to the here and now. Sometimes you talked about random stuff, sometimes you didn’t speak for hours. Yet, the silence never felt empty.

During one of those quiet nights, staring out at the starlit grounds of the compound, he finally whispered a thought that had been tormenting him. “What if one day you realize I’m too much?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you reached out and took his left hand, the cool vibranium smooth under your palm. Then you took his right flesh hand, holding both equally, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your pulse.

“You know what I see?” You asked softly.

He shook his head, his eyes lowered, unable to meet your gaze.

“I see the man who always checks if everyone else has eaten before serving himself. I see someone who carries a mountain of guilt that was never his to carry.”

His throat tightened, his breath hitching.

“I see my partner. My best friend. The love of my life.”

When he finally looked up, his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I don’t deserve you.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “Good thing love isn’t earned.”

Weeks later, during a press conference celebrating another successful mission, a reporter threw out the inevitable, lighter question. “So… what’s it like dating another Avenger?”

You exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Bucky. “You first,” you nudged him.

He cleared his throat, leaning slightly toward the microphone. “It’s easy.”

The reporter looked surprised, raising an eyebrow. “Easy?”

“She makes everything easier,” Bucky said, his voice entirely devoid of his usual guarded edge.

Your heart melted right then and there.

Then the microphone turned toward you. “And you?”

You smiled, looking out at the crowd of flashing cameras before shifting your gaze back to him. “It’s safe.”

“Safe?” The reporter prompted.

“I’ve never had to wonder if someone would catch me,” you replied softly. “He always does.”

Beneath the long tablecloth, out of sight of the flashing lenses, Bucky quietly reached out and squeezed your hand. The cameras didn’t catch it, but the warmth of it radiated through your entire chest.

Months later, Sam walked into the common room late at night and found both of you fast asleep. You occupied one end of the large sectional couch and Bucky occupied the other, but somewhere during the night, you’d unconsciously migrated toward each other. Your head rested comfortably against his shoulder, your breathing deep and even. His metal hand held your wrist loosely, a subconscious anchor ensuring you wouldn’t drift too far away even in sleep.

The television was still humming quietly, the credits of an old movie rolling by. An empty popcorn bowl sat on the coffee table, and a shared blanket covered both of your laps. Sam smiled despite himself, pulling out his phone to quietly snap a picture. He fully intended to use it to embarrass both of you at breakfast, but not today. Today, he simply pulled another blanket over your exposed feet, turned off the television, and left you both to your hard-earned peace.

The Avengers would continue to save the world.

History books would record the impossible victories, the alien invasions, the battles against HYDRA and Ultron, but history rarely remembers the quiet moments that truly matter.

It wouldn’t remember Bucky automatically reaching for your hand before entering a crowded room because he knew the noise still overwhelmed him. It wouldn’t record you absentmindedly straightening the collar of his tactical jacket before every deployment, or the shared coffee at sunrise after sleepless nights. It wouldn’t note the forehead kisses, the whispered “come back to me” before the jet doors closed, or the profound relief of a shared smile upon returning.

Those moments belonged only to the two of you.

Then came the arrival of Special Agent Clara.

She was an intelligence specialist transferred from a joint task force in Berlin, brought in by the SHIELD to join and help the Avengers.

The first day she walked into the briefing room, she didn’t look like the standard bureaucratic transplants the compound usually attracted. She was sharp, sharp-tongued and carried herself with an easy, unbothered confidence that instantly drew the eye.

At first, you didn’t pay it much mind.

The Avengers were a revolving door of operatives, technicians and specialists but within a week, the rhythm of the compound began to shift. More specifically, the space around Bucky began to change.

It started small, the kind of subtle adjustments that only someone who studied his every movement would notice. During the morning briefings, Clara began taking the chair directly next to him. She didn’t sit straight-backed like the other analysts. She leaned in, her elbow resting on the mahogany table turning slightly toward him as Steve went over the logistics of a localized HYDRA splinter cell.

“Berlin had a similar cell structure three years ago,” Clara said one Tuesday morning, her voice smooth and conversational. She looked directly at Bucky, her eyes bright with a familiarity that felt misplaced. “Right around the time you were laying low near Bucharest… wasn’t it, Barnes? The local authorities were terrified of their own shadows.”

Bucky, who usually sat through these meetings like a statue carved from granite, actually offered a small, huffing laugh. “They had reason to be. The local police force was bought and paid for by the highest bidder.”

“Exactly,” Clara said, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She reached out, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of his vibranium forearm to emphasize her point. “Which is why we don’t use their standard routing protocols. We use the ones we built during the winter transition.”

Your eyes dropped to her hand. Her fingers stayed on his arm for a beat too long.

Bucky didn’t pull away from. He didn’t even flinch. For a man who spent decades treating every human contact as a potential threat, he remained perfectly still.

A cold, sudden weight settled into the pit of your stomach.

Over the next two weeks, the alarms in your mind grew louder. It wasn’t that Bucky was ignoring you; it was that his availability had suddenly split.

Clara was everywhere he was.

When he went to the armory to recalibrate the tension settings on his arm, Clara was there leaning against the workbench with a tablet in hand, ostensibly discussing data encryptions but laughing at jokes you couldn’t hear from the hallway.

When he was in the common room in the evenings, reading or staring out the window, Clara would wander in. She always brought two mugs of tea in hand. She knew how he took it. Black tea with no sugar, identical to how he’d drank it in the 1940s.

“You’re quiet today,” Sam remarked one afternoon, leaning against the counter as you watched Bucky and Clara across the courtyard. They were walking side by side, Clara gesturing animatedly with her hands while Bucky listened, his head tilted slightly toward her, his expression remarkably open.

“Just tired,” you lied, your fingers tightening around the ceramic of your mug.

Sam followed your gaze. His expression shifted, the easygoing smirk fading into something more guarded. He didn’t say anything immediately. He just watched the way Clara leaned into Bucky’s side as they stepped up the concrete stairs, her laughter echoing faintly through the glass pane. Bucky didn’t step back. He actually reached out, his flesh hand briefly touching the small of her back to guide her through the heavy door.

“He’s been working a lot with her on the old Soviet files,” Sam said, his voice carefully neutral. “She’s got access to the German archives he couldn’t get his hands on last year. It’s… good for him. Getting some closure.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, the word tasting like ash. “It’s great.”

But it didn’t feel great.

The real shift happened during a training session on a Thursday evening. The gym was mostly empty, the heavy fluorescent lights casting long, stark shadows across the mats. You had spent an hour working on your kickboxing forms, trying to sweat out the persistent, irritating anxiety that had been clawing at your throat for days.

The double doors opened, and Bucky walked in, wearing a dark gray tank top and sweatpants. But he wasn’t alone. Clara was right beside him, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, sporting athletic gear that suggested she wasn’t just there to watch.

“Told you, Barnes,” Clara was saying, her tone teasingly competitive. “My instructor in Berlin was the best. I can hold my own.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky replied. A rare, genuine grin breaking across his features. It was the kind of smile he usually reserved for you after a long and successful day.

They didn’t notice you at first. They moved to the center mat and Clara immediately dropped into a defensive stance. Bucky circled her, his movements light and fluid. When she lunged, executing a quick, sharp jab to his ribs, he blocked it easily with his right forearm, but she used the momentum to sweep his leg. He caught himself, laughing aloud as he countered, gripping her waist to flip her onto the mat.

She landed with a soft grunt, but she didn’t look angry. She looked up at him, her hands resting against his chest as he hovered over her, his vibranium hand bracing his weight on the floor beside her head.

“Not bad,” Bucky murmured, his voice lower now.

“I had you for a second,” she countered, her eyes locked onto his, her breath coming in short, even gasps. She didn’t move her hands from his chest. Instead, her fingers spread slightly against the fabric of his shirt, a familiar, intimate gesture that made your blood run cold.

You dropped your hand wraps onto the bench. The sharp clack of the plastic weights hitting the metal frame finally drew their attention.

Bucky looked up quickly, his expression instantly shifting from relaxed amusement to something tight and unreadable. He stood up, offering a hand to Clara to help her pull herself off the mat. She took it, lingering close to his side as he turned toward you.

“Hey,” Bucky said, wiping a line of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Didn’t know you were down here.”

“Clearly,” you said, your voice entirely devoid of warmth. You didn’t look at Clara, though you could feel her sharp, analytical gaze tracking the tension in your shoulders. “I was just finishing up.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Clara said, her tone perfectly polite, almost friendly. “We were just running through some close-quarters drills. Bucky was showing me how he counters a high-line knife attack.”

Bucky.

“I’m good,” you said, grabbing your water bottle. You looked directly at Bucky, searching his blue eyes for the man who had held you on the balcony two weeks ago, the man who had told you that you were the love of his life. But right now, those eyes looked guarded, shadowed by a sudden defensiveness that you hadn’t put there. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

He didn’t follow you. He stayed on the mat with her.

That night, the silence in your shared quarters didn’t feel like a sanctuary anymore. It felt like a wall. Bucky came in late, the scent of the gym and the faint, distinct trace of Clara’s perfume clinging to his clothes. He didn’t immediately come over to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed. Instead, he went straight to the bathroom, the sound of the shower running for a long, agonizing twenty minutes.

When he emerged, wearing only a pair of dark sleep pants, he stood by the window, looking out into the dark compound grounds just like he had weeks before. But this time, you didn’t go to him. You stayed right where you were.

“You’re distant,” he said quietly, his back still turned to you.

“Am I?” You asked, the sarcasm sharp and defensive. “I thought I was just staying out of the way.”

Bucky turned slowly, his features obscured by the shadows of the room. His metal hand clicked softly as his fingers flexed, a nervous habit he only fell back on when he was deeply unsettled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means, Bucky,” you said, standing up to face him. The space between you felt immense, an uncrossable chasm built out of tiny interactions over the last three weeks. “Clara. She’s everywhere. She’s in your briefings, she’s in the common room, she’s on the training mats. And you’re… you’re totally fine with it.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, his jaw clenching. “She’s an intelligence officer. We’re translating files from my time in Europe. Files that could help clear up the remaining HYDRA cells. It’s work.”

“It doesn’t look like work when she’s touching your arm every five minutes,” you snapped, the pent-up frustration finally breaking through your composure. “It doesn’t look like work when she’s laughing with you in the armory, or when she’s got her hands on your chest on the training floor. You don’t let anyone close to you like that, Bucky. But with her, you don’t even blink.”

Bucky took a step forward, his voice rising, laced with an old, defensive edge that made your heart ache. “She knows the world I came from! She understands the Berlin protocols, she knows the names of the people I had to handle. It’s… it’s easy to talk to her about things that I don’t want to drag you into.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You took a half-step back, your eyes widening slightly as the air left your lungs. “Drag me into?” You whispered. “Is that what we are now? I’m the person you have to protect from your past, so you go to her instead?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his anger flickering, replaced by a sudden flash of panic. He reached out with his flesh hand, trying to catch your wrist, but for the first time since you had fallen in love with him, you pulled away from his touch.

His hand hung empty in the air between you.

“I thought we were in this together,” you said, your voice cracking slightly before you forced it to steady. “Every scar. Every day. That’s what we said. But now, the second someone comes along who speaks your old language, you shut me out.”

“I am not shutting you out!” Bucky insisted, his voice tight, his eyes wild with the frustration of a man who didn’t know how to explain the tangled mess inside his own head. “I’m trying to handle my life. She’s just a colleague. If she’s comfortable around me, it’s because I’m trying to be a normal person. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to be okay around people?”

“Not like that,” you said quietly. “Not when it feels like I’m being replaced.”

Bucky stared at you, his chest heaving, his face pale in the moonlight streaming through the window. He looked lost, caught between the defensive instincts of a soldier and the raw, unhealed vulnerability of the man you loved. He wanted to reach out again, you could see it in the way his shoulders twitched, but the space between you had frozen over.

“I need some air,” you said softly, unable to bear the heavy, suffocating weight of the room for another second.

You walked past him, your shoulder brushing his lightly as you moved toward the door.

He didn’t try to stop you.

He didn’t say your name.

He just stood there by the window, a solitary silhouette against the dark glass, his metal fingers still flexing in the dark.

The hallways of the compound were cold and empty as you walked aimlessly down toward the lower levels. The alarms in your head hadn’t stopped ringing if anything, they were deafening now. You had spent so long believing that the greatest threat to your relationship was the ghosts of his past or the dangers of the field.

You had never considered that the real danger might be how easily he could find comfort in someone else’s hands. As you stared out the glass windows of the common room at the quiet, sprawling facility, you realized you didn’t know how to fight a war where the lines between ally and enemy were entirely invisible.

It was short, the tug on your leg.

You peer down to see a little girl. Soft brown hair with little clips to keep it out of her face, round face and blue eyes that were full of fear.

“Hey there,” you say, and crouch down. “You okay?”

She blinks, tears falling down her cheeks. “I can’t find my daddy.”

“Hey, hey,” you reach to rub her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

She lets out a sob, unable to control the hysteria shaking her small frame.

“Oh sweetheart,” you breathe, and offer her your hand. “Hold my hand, we’ll find your daddy. Don’t worry.”

She continued to sob, unrestrained sounds that twisted your heart.

You walked slowly down the aisle, allowing her to keep pace with you, heading for the large central aisle where it would be easiest to be found.

“El!” You hear someone shout.

“Daddy?” The little girl turns her head, her eyes alert and wide.

You peek over your shoulder to see a man rushing over.

“Oh my babygirl,”

The girl lets go of your hand, her little feet pushing her forward into the arms of the man.

You smile to yourself, relieved, yet feeling a little out of place at witnessing the reunion.

The man presses his forehead to the little girl’s, his daughter you assumed.

“Are you okay?” He spoke quickly. “You aren’t hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I saw glitter pens, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he spoke as if to himself. “You’re safe.”

It was then his eyes flicker up to you. They are the exact same shade as his daughter’s, a light blue that gave away more emotion than any expression. His hair was the same colour also, pulled back into a messy bun. His face differed from hers entirely, a strong jawline marked with stubble peppered with grey, and faint lines across his forehead and eyes.

He scoops his daughter up with ease, her body looking tiny next to his large build.

“Hi, uh,” he shifts awkwardly.

“Hi,” you press your lips together nervously.

“I, uh, thanks for taking care of my Eileen,” he says.

You shake your head. “It was nothing, only for a few minutes.”

“Still,” his lips twitched. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you shrug and turn to walk away.

“Come back!” the little girl, Eileen, called.

“El,” you hear her father hiss. “Leave the lady be.”

You feel a tug on your hand, and peek down to see the girl, who must have forced her way down and rushed to catch you.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

You tilt your head, giving it quietly.

“Pretty,” she smiles. “You’re pretty.”

“Eileen Barnes,” you hear her father call out disapprovingly.

“What?” Her eyes moved to her father. “She’s pretty.”

Her father sighs. “She’s busy, babygirl. Let her go.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, and crouch to Eileen’s level.

“I think your dad is wants to get going,” you tell her softly.

She frowns, her eyes appearing watery once again. “I don’t want to.”

Her father stepped closer.

“Eileen,” he put a hand on her back. “That is enough.”

His voice was gentle yet firm.

“But Daddy,” she began to protest. “She’s pretty and kind. Can we be friends?”

“El, it’s not that easy,” he breathes.

“It’s okay,” your voice came out stronger. “Eileen?”

She peeks up, her eyes meet yours.

“I can be your friend,” you say to her.

“Daddy’s friend too,” she insists. “Daddy is always alone. Daddy needs a friend.”

“Eileen,” her father’s face was starting to go red.

You laugh quietly. “That’s up to your daddy.”

She looks up expectantly at her father.

“El, I—” he looks at you, eyes moving up and down you.

“You are pretty,” he murmurs. “Really pretty.”

You feel blood rush to your cheeks.

Eileen beams, her eyes moving between you and her father.

“I’m Bucky,” he holds out a hand to you. “Bucky Barnes, this is my daughter, Eileen.”

You reach out, allowing him to shake your hand, his hand rough to touch, yet gentle.

“Hi,” you breathe, still a little flustered from his compliment.

Bucky smiles, an expression that makes your heart stutter a moment. The pull of those pink lips, the way it crinkled at the edges of his eyes. It felt like you could stare at him for days and never tire of him.

“I—” he cleared his throat. “Look I know this is, uh, weird. But, Eileen likes you, and she won’t stop until I ask. Would you… do you want to get coffee sometime?”

“Oh,” you stammer. “Yeah, sure.”

You reach into your bag, ripping off the bottom of your shopping list and pulling out a pen, then scribbling down your phone number.

You fold it in half and hold it out between your fingers.

He takes it carefully.

“Text me?” You ask with a small smile.

“Uh,” his eyes move to your lips for a moment. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Your smile widens and you pat Eileen on the head.

“See you around then,” you say. “Eileen… Bucky.”

Eileen looks up at her father grinning.

“She’s nice,” she says as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Bucky holds the piece of paper tightly between his fingers, eyes on you walking away.

“Yeah, she is.”

That evening you’d checked your phone constantly, waiting for the text that never came. You checked again the next morning to nothing, and began to wonder if you’d written the wrong number.

A few more days pass, when you hear your phone buzz once.

You reach over from your place on the sofa, eyes still on the comforting program you are watching.

A quick glance shows a text from an unfamiliar number.

Hey, it’s Bucky. We met at the grocery store the other day. Do you still want to meet for coffee sometime?

A small smile graces your face, warmth filling your veins. He hadn’t forgotten.

I’d love to. Any recommendations? x

You send the text without thinking, jerking slightly as you realise that you’d put a kiss on there out of habit.

A few minutes pass before the next buzz.

There’s a coffee shop in the park?

Immediately another text followed.

Eileen will be coming, she can play on the swings whilst we chat x

Your lips part, seeing him also put a kiss made you smile wider.

That’ll be nice. I’d love to see Eileen again! x

She’s dying to see you again, been pestering me every day to skip work to take her x

You laugh at that.

I’d skip work for her x

There is a brief pause.

I would too, if I could. Would Saturday work for you? Say around 9am? x

You check your calendar briefly, confirming what you already knew - you weren’t busy.

That will be fine. Pretty early don’t you think? x

El will be asking when we are going all day if not. She likes to get me up at 6, and there is no stopping her once she is up x

You laugh again to yourself, there was something endearing about how this man complained about his daughter, yet you could hear his adoration for her.

I’ll be sure to get there in time for Eileen x

Appreciate that, doll. See you Saturday x

You duck your head slightly at the nickname, slightly embarrassed at how your heart squeezed despite being alone.

The park is quiet, filled with only a few people running or cycling and the distant sounds of birds.

It takes a few minutes to walk to the coffee shop, the temperature is warm, not too hot to be uncomfortable but cool enough you could wear a light jacket.

The air fills with the smell of freshly baked goods and coffee, the shop itself is small, most of the seating outside on paving slabs overlooking a playground.

You linger a moment, only seeing people enter to take out and then depart. You turn, scanning the area before reaching for your phone checking for a message. There was none.

You silently remind yourself it is only ten to nine, he wasn’t late.

The sound of your name startles you. Your head whips around until you notice little Eileen running at you.

You crouch down allowing her to fling her little arms around you.

“You came!” She declared as you broke apart.

“Of course,” you reach and boop her nose with your index finger. She grins, reaching to do the same to your nose.

You hear someone chuckle above you, and look up to see Bucky. He’s in dark blue jeans, a wool jacket with a hint of red peeking underneath.

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Daddy!” Eileen rushes back to her father, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward.

“She came! She came!” The little girl bounced in place with enthusiasm.

“Easy El,” he speaks softly. “I’ve already lost one arm, I don’t need to lose another.”

You get to your feet, noticing the girl pulling on his metal fingers.

You feel yourself smiling at the sight. “Shall we go in?”

Bucky nods politely, wrapping his hand around El’s.

“Ohhhh,” Eileen pulls away from her father, the moment you enter. “Look daddy! Pain a-“ she frowns as she thinks. “Pain Aux Chocolat!”

Bucky chuckles with a shake of his head.

“She has a lot of energy,” you note.

“Yeah,” he puts his hands on his pockets, glancing at you a moment before returning his gaze back to the little girl. “She’s always like this.”

“She wanders off a lot?”

“Mhm,” he sighs. “She saw some glitter gel pens when you found her. One minute he was next to me, I turned to reach for some tins and then she was gone.”

“All that for gel pens?” You ask, amused.

“Yep,” he gives a slight smile. “They kept her busy whilst I made dinner.”

You let out a snicker.

“What?” His eyes now return to you.

“I’m sorry,” you press your lips together to suppress your smile. “That’s cute.”

“Hm,” he huffs. “Cute, eh?”

You give him a timid shrug and step forward to join Eileen.

“Hi,” you greet the barista. “Can I have a Latte, one croissant, a pain aux chocolate…” you look down to Eileen. “Would you like a drink, El?”

“Hot chocolate!” She declares. “Please.”

“A hot chocolate,” you turn to Bucky. “Bucky, what would you like?”

He recoils in surprise and approaches, your back tingles as you feel him behind your back. “A black coffee please.”

The barista puts it all in and you pull out your card, tapping it against the reader.

“They’ll just be a few minutes,” the barista tells you.

“Thanks,” you smile and walk around.

“You should have let me pay,” Bucky shakes his head, his hand holding El’s again.

“It’s fine, I wanted to get Eileen something,” you give her a grin.

Bucky sighs.

“Is he always grumpy?” You ask El, teasing him.

“Yes,” she nods.

“El,” his lips twitch and eyebrows scrunch together. “Please.”

The barista then placed down the drinks with two paper bags.

“Thank you!” El chimed in a sing-song voice, eagerly reaching for the drinks.

You get there first, picking up the ones in her reach.

“Thanks,” Bucky sounds immensely grateful. “Eileen, please be careful, they’re hot.”

She gives him a sassy look.

“Why don’t you take the food?” You compromise.

Eileen nods, reaching to take the paper bags.

Bucky reaches to take his coffee. “Let’s find a seat.”

He leads you outside, it remains quiet, peaceful. Bucky strolls to the table closest to the playground, whilst your eyes remain on his back, his wide shoulders.

He pulls out a chair, then another, places his cup down and picks up his daughter to help her up into the chair.

“Take a seat, doll,” he gestures, letting you sit first before taking the last seat.

You carefully reach over placing the hot chocolate in front of Eileen and taking the Croissant.

Eileen seems too distracted by her own food to pay any mind to anything else.

Bucky chuckles fondly before taking a long sip of his drink.

“Want any?” You ask him as you pull part of the croissant apart to eat.

“Hmm,” he considers for a moment. “Sure.”

You smile, ripping off the other end. He leans over parting his lips slightly, you carefully put the piece in his mouth. His mouth closed and he chewed carefully.

You have to sift your eyes away, a warmth filling you at how he’d trusted you.

“Daddy never eats here,” Eileen cuts through your reverie, her blue eyes on her father as she concentrated. “Says it's bad for his muscles.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at Bucky.

He leans back, sipping his coffee and doesn’t say a word.

“You enjoy the gym?” You ask.

“Not as much as I’d like,” he places his cup down again. “I’m ex-Army.”

“What do you do now?” You ask, taking a sip of your own drink.

“Boring office job,” he admits. “But I can work from home, and take care of this one.”

He pats his daughter on the head.

“What about—“ you pause, hesitating.

“Eileen’s mother?” He finishes.

Eileen looks at her father, as though sensing the tension of the moment, then at you.

“Mummy works away,” she speaks as if she has said it a thousand times, her eyes suddenly appearing tired.

“Busy lady,” you reply.

“Mmm,” you hear the disapproval in Bucky’s tone. “Eileen, do you want to go try the swings whilst we chat?”

“Huh?” She perks up, then drops from her seat. “Yay!!”

She runs off eagerly into the playground.

“Stay in my sight!” He calls after her.

You watch Bucky once more, his face smooth yet his eyes soften, betraying the love he has for his daughter.

“El’s mother,” he begins, eyes still on his little girl. “She doesn’t come to see Eileen much. El barely remembers her.”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, unsure what to say.

He shrugs. “We have each other. It’s enough.”

You gently place a hand on his arm. “You’re a single parent, you shouldn’t have to face it alone.”

“Despite what El told you, I do have friends,” his eyes return to you. “They are few, but I couldn’t have gotten this far without them.”

You nod, relieved. Bucky’s eyes then flicker over you, taking you in.

“You look lovely,” he comments.

“Thank you,” you lean back, hoping the distance will hide the blush on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have a real first date,” you allow your eyes to drift back to him, his eyes on his daughter - now climbing steps on a slide. “You deserve to be taken out for dinner.”

“You don’t need to explain,” your voice is soft. “Your little girl has to come first.”

His head turns slightly, giving you a faint smile. “Thank you.”

“Besides, I wanted to see El again,” you continue. “She’s adorable.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, she is.”

There is a moment of silence. You keep your eyes on Bucky, taking in how his eyes never strayed from his daughter, occasionally drinking his coffee whilst his other hand lay on his lap.

“What do you do for work?” Bucky’s voice is quiet.

You twitch a second. “It’s pretty boring. I'm an archivist. Spend all day typing up what is written in old dusty books, or help people find old dusty books.”

He chuckles. “Sounds like it makes you happy.”

Your voice gets caught in your mouth for a moment. “It does,” you admit.

Bucky shifts then, turning his seat towards you.

“Would you like another drink?” He asks, the creases in his expression giving away his nerves.

“No, thank you,” you shift to face him. “I would like to just talk.”

He smiles then. Not the faint twitches of his lips before, a real smile. It seemed to light up his whole face, brightening his eyes, crinkling at the edges and his forehead.

“Your eyes,” you lean forward, heart thrumming a little harder from his gaze. “They’re incredible.”

His face drops, lips parting slightly as he drinks in your words.

“Uh, thank you,” he stammers.

You smile at him, and reach over to place your hand on his.

He swallows, suddenly nervous. “Do you like Italian food?”

“Yeah,” you respond. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s a little Italian restaurant not far from my place,” he says. “We could go, if you’d like.”

“With Eileen?”

He shakes his head. “Eileen is staying with my friend on Tuesday night. It would be just the two of us.”

“I think I’d enjoy that,” your lips twitch.

“More than this?” He playfully responds.

“It’s nice,” you smirk. “And I adore Eileen. But I’d also like to get you alone.”

“Alone, huh?” He chuckles. “That might be difficult.”

You grin at his face, he seemed so happy, a far cry from the grumpy man from earlier.

“I can share,” you tease.

“Yeah?” He turned his hand over, fingers interweaving with yours.

“Yeah.”

Bucky squeezed your hand. “You know in a fight she’d win, every time.”

“I know,” you nod. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Daddy!” Eileen was running over. “Did you see? Did you see? I was so fast.”

You suppress a laugh.

“Oh, I’m sorry, babygirl. I missed it,” he responded. “Go again, I’m watching.”

The little girl’s eyes narrow, eyes flickering between the two of you before running back, climbing the steps and flinging herself down the slide at speed.

“Oh my—” you begin to get to your feet in fear for her.

“Relax,” Bucky mutters. “She’ll be alright.”

“Did you see, Daddy?” Eileen shouts.

“I saw,” he calls back. “You were faster than my bike.”

Eileen beamed, running back over the bark chips to the table.

“That was fun!” She declared.

Bucky grins, pleased to see his little girl so happy. “Need a rest?”

She nods, climbing onto the chair. “I need a drink.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at his daughter.

“Please,” she adds.

“Good girl,” he shakes his head fondly, reaching down into a bag Eileen had been carrying, passing over a drink bottle from the side to her.

She happily slurped through the straw.

“You’re a good dad,” you nudge him gently.

“I try,” he murmurs.

“Daddy’s happy,” she notices and then looks at you. “You’re happy.”

She takes another sip. “You make Daddy happy.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, El,” he chuckles.

“You laugh when I’m silly. Or Uncle Sam is silly,” she says.

“Uncle Sam?”

“My best friend,” Bucky explains. “He’s a pain, but he takes care of El when I can’t.”

“It’s nice of him to take care of Eileen,”

“I love Uncle Sam!” El declares in agreement.

“Because Uncle Sam lets you stay up till 8pm, and brings you chocolate,” Bucky shakes his head in disapproval.

She shrugs, taking one more sip from her drink before taking off again.

“What time do you want to meet on Tuesday?” You ask.

“I’ll book the table for seven,” his eyes were on his daughter.

You nod. “Seven then.”

He nods, his eyes flickering back to you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

You shift from one foot to the other, tugging at the material of your dress praying it’s not too short. You chose a simple red dress that hung just above your knees, in the hopes of being alluring yet modest.

You hear someone call your name, your eyes flicker around, seeing no one until you turn and spot Bucky.

He’s dressed semi formally, jeans, black boots, a light blue shirt that matched his eyes and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Hello,” his voice is quiet yet warm, his left hand holds out a small bunch of flowers with a nervous smile. “These are for you.”

You cannot contain the smile that crosses your face. “Thank you.”

His face remains still, but his eyes betray his relief. “I wasn’t sure what you would like,” he confessed.

You shake your head, stepping closer. “They are beautiful.”

“Shall we—” he hesitated. “Shall we go in?”

You nod, holding the flowers in one of your hands and reaching out with the other to offer your hand.

Instinctively, the fingers of his right hand weave between yours. They are gentle yet slightly rough to touch, yet somehow the feel of them sends a slight tingle up your arm.

Bucky guides you forward to the door, holding his jacket with his thumb and the rest of his fingers grasping the handle, holding it open for you.

“Thank you,” you give him a smile.

His lips twitch slightly upward, and follow you into the restaurant.

It’s small, yet quiet, simplistic in its decor.

You blink as you take it in, eyes flickering as he tugs your hand carefully to speak to the server.

“Table for two, under the name Barnes,” his voice is low.

The server nods. “Ah yes, I have it. Good to see you Mr Barnes.”

They pick up two menus and lead you to a small table to the side, a little out of earshot of the nearest table.

“Here,” Bucky pulls out a chair for you as the server places down the menus.

“Thanks,” you sit, place the flowers carefully under your chair and shrug off your jacket.

Bucky gives you a nod of satisfaction before taking his seat, slinging his jacket casually over the back.

“Any allergies we need to be aware of?” The server asks.

You shake your head.

Bucky doesn’t speak, his eyes remain on you.

The server nods and departs.

“You’re quiet,” you notice.

“I normally am,” he leans back, his gaze still intense.

Now it felt like a first date, the momentarily silence, the awkward feeling sinking into your stomach. Was this a mistake? Did he really like you?

“I come here with Sam,” he breaks the silence.

“Like— on a date?” Your tone is casual yet teasing. His nose crinkles together for a moment before he lets out a soft chuckle that shoots through you, the sound of it makes you want to join in.

“No,” a slight smile remains on his face. “We’d end up killing each other at the mere suggestion of sharing anything.”

You smile easily. “I share.”

“I remember,” he exhales. “Not sure I can say the same.”

Your lips part slightly at the implication.

“You look nice,” he adds, before allowing his eyes to move slowly over you.

There was something there, in the tenor of his voice, the way he was so obvious, yet taking it slow. It drew you in dangerously fast.

You feel blood rush to your face.

“So do you,” you admit quietly, eyes on the stubble of his jawline. Even with his long hair slicked back and the stubble, he looks smart, and the shade of his shirt brings out his features. “You’re— you’re pretty.”

His eyes widened a moment before a real smile graced his face. “Not sure I’ve been called pretty before.”

You pursue your lips. “Well, I think you are.”

He leans over the table as if to speak for no one to hear. Instead a voice interrupts you, the server.

“Can I get you any drinks?”

You see a flash of frustration on Bucky's face, and observe him inhale as if to calm himself.

“I’ll have a glass of white wine please,” you say, giving the server a polite glance.

“I’ll have a beer,” Bucky’s voice was low, tight with emotion that was barely contained.

“I’ll be right over with them,” they walk away again.

Once out of earshot you hear Bucky make a noise of dissatisfaction, one that makes you cover your mouth to hide laughter.

“Eileen is right, you are grumpy,” you allow yourself a small giggle once the server is out of earshot.

“Aren’t you?” His eyes never strayed away from yours. “They had to interrupt when things were just getting interesting.”

“There is no rush,” you say softly.

“I only get tonight with you sweetheart,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know when we will get time like this again.”

“I don’t mind Eileen coming,” you remind him.

“I’d rather not have the questions,” he admits. “El was so young when her mother and I separated. I never expected to meet someone else. I never prepared her for it.”

Your head tilts, sensing guilt.

“Bucky,” you lean forward. “We don’t have to rush, or do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to feel any guilt.”

His eyebrows come together. “It’s not—” he pauses. “It’s been me and El for so long. She has always been my priority.”

You nod. “As it should be.”

The server then approached again, placing drinks on the table, then asked for the order. The pair of you are quick to order, wishing to return to the conversation.

As soon as they left, Bucky reached to take his glass, having a sip.

“I can’t give you what I’d want to give you,” his voice is quiet, almost tired. “I can’t put you first. If my babygirl needs care when we have a date, I have to pick her.”

He sounded as if he were convincing himself.

“Well, we aren’t there yet,” you speak lightly. “Why don’t we see how today goes before worrying about the future?”

He closes his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he nods, and his right hand reaches over. “We have to make the most of this.”

You copy him, stretching to take it — his large hand eclipsing yours.

“I’ve never seen you around town before,” his voice was quiet. “Not before the other week, have you just moved here?”

“Mm,” you hum the affirmative. “About six months ago, I was offered a higher paid position at the museum. Thought it might be more of a challenge.”

“And is it?”

You sip your wine at the thought of your job. “It feels like I’m doing three people’s jobs,” you admit. “There is more to record, more things to go wrong, more people to cover for.”

You finish your drink and sigh.

“I love it, but I’m not sure the pay is worth the workload,” your voice is quiet.

“Mm,” he hums. “You’re overworked.”

You shrug. “For now,” you give him a half smile. “It’s been stressful the past few months. The move, new job… but meeting you gave me a little bit of normalcy.”

You pause before admitting the next part.

“I was looking at my phone to see if you’d text me, rather than panicking over bills,” you keep your eyes to the table. “It was nice.”

He chuckles softly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to text you,” he breathed. “I— I was afraid. It’s been so long since I did this.”

“You’re good at it,” you reassure him. “You make me feel seen. You’re listening to me, paying attention to me even when I’m not asking you anything.”

“You’re more interesting,” he says, his fingers now making patterns on the back of your hand.

You shake your head slowly. “You’re an ex-army vet, with a metal arm and an adorable little girl. You are far more interesting.”

It was then your food was brought over and placed before you continue.

“I might have many stories to tell, but many of them aren’t pleasant, sweetheart,” his tone is dark and warning. “I haven’t lived a pleasant life.”

You let go of his hand, picking up a doughball from his plate and holding it between your fingers in front of him to eat.

Bucky eyes you for a moment before biting into it. Something about feeding the man felt strangely intimate.

“If you give me a chance,” your voice came out quiet yet determined. “I’d like to help you create some nice stories. Happy stories. Some about Eileen that you can embarrass her with when she’s older. Some about you and Sam… and maybe some about you and me.”

His brow furrows, contemplating.

“I'd enjoy that,” he admits.

You squeeze his hand a moment before starting to eat. The two of you eat, not quite in silence but in a comfortable quiet where you’d occasionally speak to comment on the food.

You peek up to look at Bucky, the blue of his eyes seem endless as he ponders.

“What is it?” You ask.

“What do you do outside work?” His eyes flicker up to you.

“Currently, not much, I’m still decorating,” you admit. “I like going on walks.”

“Hmmm,” he leans back.

“What about you?”

“Most of my time is taken up by Eileen,” he admits, his eyes still distant. “Or I tinker with my bike.”

“You ride motorbikes?” You tilt your head in interest.

Bucky nods. “Even when I was a kid. My friends and I used to piece together scrap to ride around.”

He pauses a moment, measuring your interest before continuing. “Working on bikes led me to the Army. I thought I could get a degree through them. Didn’t turn out as I planned.”

He looks down to his hands. “I ended up a Sniper. Turns out my hands were good for things other than fixing bikes.”

You could hear the stiffness in his voice, but he continued as if he could no longer contain himself.

“I got promoted to Sergeant,” he then twitched, his metal arm flexing slightly. “Then I lost my arm, and was allowed to resign my commission.”

“I met El’s mother a few months later,” his eyes then locked on yours. “I was still recovering, and she didn't look at me with pity. Things went fast, El came along and…”

His eyes appeared to look behind you, distant as though reliving a memory.

“When I proposed she said no,” his jaw came together, eyes watering slightly. “She screamed about how she’d put up with me for the past two years, and how Eileen and I were holding her back, keeping her life on hold, stopping her career.”

His eyes flicker back to yours.

“El thinks her mother walked away,” his voice was quiet. “But in truth, the next morning I packed up and took El with me. She was seven months old. Her mother never even contested when I requested custody of her.”

“You never got in trouble for taking El?” You wonder.

“No,” he shakes his head. “As I said, my custody was never contested. In truth, I believe she wanted me to walk out and take El with me.”

You lean over, taking both his hands in yours.

“You did the right thing,” you speak softly.

“So I’m told,” his eyes are sad, guilt etched into the lines of his face.

“What would you like for dessert?” You ask, keeping your eyes fixed on him, trying to distract him from his train of thought.

“Hmm?” He blinks. “I don’t know…”

“I was thinking of a tiramisu,” you say. “But the sorbet also looks good.”

“I usually skip and have a coffee,” he admits.

“We could share,” you suggest. “If you’d like.”

His eyes refocus.

“I can’t remember last time I had a tiramisu,” a semblance of enthusiasm began to seep into his voice.

You smile, heart fluttering slightly at your success.

You remove the silk gown slowly before hanging it up, and slipping into your bed.

You allow yourself a soft sigh, eyes closing your eyes as your fingers interlock, remembering the feel of his hands on yours.

Just as your hands begin to trail up your arms, there is a faint buzz. You ignore it, shifting under the covers in an attempt to keep warm.

You hear another buzz, and groan slightly as your eyes flicker open.

Your hand aimlessly reaches for your phone on your bedside table. With a tug, the cable disconnects and you pull the phone in front of your face to see Bucky’s name on the screen.

Your thumb lingers for a moment before pressing the green button and raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You keep your voice quiet, to avoid disturbing others.

“Hey,” you hear the soft rumble. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” you admit. “Just got to bed.”

“Mm, sounds nice,” you hear him rummaging around. “El insisted on a bedtime story, and that I stay with her until she fell asleep.”

He inhales slowly, and you hear his heavy footsteps. “Haven’t got a shower yet.”

“Go and get one,” you encourage him sleepily.

He chuckles on the other end. “Are you falling asleep, sweetheart?”

“Your voice is nice,” you admit in a haze.

His laugh is brighter. “Good. I’m sorry I called, I— I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Bucky,” you blink in an attempt to keep awake.

“It’s been a long time since I met someone who seemed intent on my happiness,” he goes quiet for a moment. “My life is dedicated to Eileen, there is no room for myself.”

You shift to sit up.

“You deserve to be happy,” you say softly. “Eileen wants you to be happy too.”

“Mm,” he murmurs. “I’d like you to come with us.”

“Bucky?”

“Eileen and I were planning to go to a Science Museum in a few weeks,” he says. “I would like you to come with us.”

“I thought you didn’t want to confuse El?”

“Well,” he exhales. “Fuck it. She likes you. I like you. I want you there and I know El would too. It’ll be hard, and we may have to struggle. But, how I feel — it is worth it, you are worth it.”

You blink away at your tired eyes.

“Bucky, I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart,” his voice is smooth, like butter, soothing. “Just be there. That's all I ask.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll be there.”

It took three weeks before a date was set.

So here you stood, in the shadow of the museum, a large backpack on your back and eyes flickering across the car park.

You hear a screech of excitement before you feel something collide with your legs.

“You’re here!” You peek down and smile at the girl clinging to your legs

“Hey El,” you greet her, and attempt to crouch down. She backs off for a moment before seeing your open arms, and jumping into them, almost launching you backwards.

You hear a chuckle from above and you give her a squeeze. Your eyes flicker up to Bucky, his shadow casting over the pair of you, protecting you.

“Hey,” he says softly. He is wearing a plain shirt and jeans, a backpack over his shoulders.

Your eyes are unable to resist flickering over the broadness of his shoulders to the way the shirt clung to his arms, down to the veins along his forearms. Seeing him in person like this suddenly made all those video calls and texts worthwhile.

Eileen backs away, stepping back towards her father and giving you a grin.

Without even thought you straighten up, still overshadowed by the man slightly.

“Hey,” you greet him. “What’s with the bag?”

“It’s for a picnic,” he shrugs. “Didn’t want to pay for the cafe.”

You tilt your head and look at Eileen. She looked unfazed, as if it were normal.

“I made ham and cheese!” El declared proudly. “And boring salad for Daddy.”

Bucky visibly rolled his eyes. “It's chicken, and my salads are to die for.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is there enough to share?”

“I made two,” El bounced in excitement.

He pats her on the head gently.

“She insisted we make enough for you,” he shrugs casually. “El, hand please.”

The little girl reaches up automatically, taking his hand whilst Bucky holds out his metal hand to you.

“Shall we?” He suggests.

The inside of the museum is wide and open, a glass roof overhead of the central rocket filling the auditorium.

“Oooo,” El begins to rush forward, dragging her father with her. “A rocket!”

Bucky smirks in amusement at his daughter and gives you a wink.

“It’s a replica of the Rocket from Apollo 13,” Bucky keeps his eyes fixed forward.

Eileen bounds forward to the glass fence. “Three, two, one… Blast off!”

You smile and look over to Bucky who you also see smiling.

“She likes space?”

“I showed her the Artemis launch, and she’s been obsessed ever since,” he squeezes your hand. “She gets it from her father.”

“You like space?”

“Anything Physics,” he nods. “Engineering especially.”

“Nerd,” you tease him.

“Remind me what your job is again?” He sasses back, eyes returning to his daughter. You gently nudge him playfully with your arm, fingers still interlocked with his.

A slight tremor runs through him as he chuckles.

“You’re cute,” he keeps his eyes on Eileen, who is now standing entranced by a small screen showing the launch of a rocket. “People usually aren’t brave enough to tease me.”

“Because you are ex-Army, and built like a house?” You ask, your eyes remain on him, taking in how his hair was down — kept behind his ears.

“Mm,” he agrees. “I have what Sam calls a resting bitch face.”

You snicker, and feel Bucky’s eyes flicker to you.

“You aren’t denying it?”

“You do have this tendency to look a little…” you pause. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“No?” His lips twitch for a moment.

“No,” you repeat. “You’re gorgeous even with the resting bitch face.”

“Mm,” he lifts your joined hands, brushing his lips across your knuckles. “Thanks.”

The next few hours were filled with the excited squeals of Eileen at the different exhibits. Space suits, moon rocks, and a long documentary on the International Space Station. The three of you ended up in the large auditorium, sat on a bench with the picnic spread out in front of you.

Eileen sat talking animatedly about space, about all the planets she had looked up in books, what astronauts did in space and how much she wanted to see the stars.

Through it all Bucky never once interrupted her, to try to deter her from her dream. He nodded and spoke to her casually, almost like an adult.

“You okay there, honey?” Bucky’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“You’re such a good Dad,” you say without thinking about it.

He gives you a gentle smile, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You look over to Eileen who seems content eating her sandwich, whilst carefully colouring in a page she’d been given. Her eyebrows were scrunched together slightly, and the grip on her small pencil was tight.

“Is it like this all the time?” You wonder. “With you and Eileen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Peaceful, just out having fun,” you say.

“No, this is a treat,” he admits. “Normally we spend our weekends at home, we might go to the park or take a walk.”

“Just father-daughter time,”

“I guess,” he shrugs.

“Daddy colours with me,” Eileen interrupts, taking a sip of her juice. “In our NASA colouring book.”

You smirk and from the corner of your eye spot Bucky, placing his metal hand over his face.

“Daddy bakes with me. We made cookies!” She declares proudly.

Bucky chuckles, allowing hand to fall back to the table. “The icing was everywhere.”

“It was yummy!” She waves her arms in excitement. “Can you make cookies?”

You give her a gentle smile. “Yeah.”

Eileen gasps in excitement. “Come to my house! Let’s bake cookies.”

You laugh quietly.

“Maybe another time,” Bucky reaches over to calm her. “We have more of the museum to see.”

Another hour passed, walking through the long exhibit on the Solar System. The corridors were dark, covered with small lights to represent stars, every so often opening up into a room for each planet, projections of the planet flowing onto the walls, with paintings of the surface of the planet.

Upon reaching Saturn, you hear the sound of rocks for Saturn’s Rings.

“This is incredible,” you murmur.

Ahead, Eileen was bounding forward, keeping a close but far enough she could watch first.

“It is,” he agrees, squeezing your hand. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

“Would you like to visit an observatory?” He sounded nervous.

“With El?”

He shook his head. “She’d get bored of the talk. I— I have always wished to go.”

“Bucky,” you smile at him, flattered that he was willing to openly be himself with you. “Of course, I will.”

“You will?”

“Sure, sounds kind of romantic,” you shrug shyly. “Sat looking up at the stars.”

“Maybe,” he sounds unsure.

You squeeze his hand as you speak. “Bucky, you don’t need to give excuses. If you want to go to an observatory, we can go. All I want is to be with you.”

He stiffened a moment before keeping pace with you again, his eyes moving from your face to his daughter.

“You really want that?”

“Yeah,” your voice is quiet against the vast expanse of projected space. “I like spending time with you both.”

You feel a kiss against your hair. “Thank you.”

Your eyes flicker to glance at the lights crossing his features, then forward again. Your mind slowly began to list other date ideas, not just an observatory. Walks under the night sky, visits to climbing walls for El, maybe a motorcycle show or two.

A small smile remained on your face as you leaned into Bucky, feeling a sense of contentment amongst the stars.

One, two, three.

You count the knocks as you tap against the door.

Immediately you hear the sound of rushed footsteps, before the door flings open.

And there he is.

It takes a moment to process the sight in front of you. Bucky stood inside in a white tank top, with simple grey sweatpants and slips on his feet.

“Hey,” his voice is soft. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You feel heat creep up your cheeks, recalling the dazed rush you’d been in. Receiving his text asking you to come round, changing frantically from your loose shirt and leggings into a summer dress, checking yourself in the mirror, once, twice and then a third time before leaving.

“Did you need something?”

He gives you a simple nod and steps aside. “Come in.”

You step inside, taking care to remove your shoes as you hear the click of the door shutting.

“Here,” Bucky passes you, heading straight to the sofa.  You glance around the room, it isn’t as messy as you anticipated. There were no signs of El or her toys. Just a glass of water on the coffee table, and a beer bottle on the side table.

He slumps onto the leather, one arm up perched on the back as he nods down next to him.

You pursue your lips as you sit down, curious.

“Breathe,” his voice is soft. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

You take a shaky breath. “I thought you might’ve—“

You blink to try and hide the tears in your eyes. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

His lips parted for a moment before he allowed his head to fall back slightly, chuckling.

 “It’s not funny,” you protest weakly.

He stills a moment, tongue moving visibly inside his mouth, leaving you slightly entranced. The things he could do with that tongue…

“I’m sorry I worried you,” his tone was gentle, the fingers of his metal hand tracing your collarbone over your shirt. “Eileen is having a sleepover with a friend.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

He gave a soft smile as he nodded. “She’s been begging me for months. I thought it might be time.”

“And you invited me?” You twitch, beginning to understand.

“I’ve missed you,” he admits. “The phone calls don’t feel like enough.”

A surge of warmth filled your heart softly running through your veins.

“I missed you,” you reach over to lay your hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you.”

His fingers begin to play with the hair at the nape of your neck. “You’ve been busy, I understand.”

You lean into his hand, the cool metal cupping your cheek.

“So have you,” your voice cracks.

“Hm,” his face relaxes into its usual expression, slightly grumpy with the lines on his face plain. “Too busy.”

Almost of its own accord your hand most up, brushing against the cotton stretched across his chest before allowing the tops of your fingers to linger on the stubble on his jaw.

“I was going to cook you dinner,” he confesses. “Got too eager and invited you before I could decide what to cook.”

You begin to smile, thumb brushing his chin. “That’s okay, I’m just glad to be here.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You’ve dressed up, and I didn’t even cook you dinner.”

The leather of the sofa squeaked as you shuffled closer to him, legs brushing.

“We can order take out?” You suggest. “Order pizza, lounge around with bad TV on.”

He chuckled. “Now that is a good idea.”

He reached into his pocket for his phone, flicking his fingers across it.

The next few minutes were filled with the quiet chatter of debating which pizza to order. Unconsciously, you find yourself pulled closer to him, practically leaning on him as you look at the screen.

“Hm,” he grunted. “It’s going to be a while, sweetheart.”

You allow your head to fall into his shoulder, allowing your eyes to close. His metal arm tightens slightly around your waist.

“What a shame,” you murmur sarcastically.

“Did you have plans?” he teases back.

You tilt your head up as your eyes open. “I wasn’t sure how late you’d want me to stay.”

“Oh,” he breathed and shook his head. “Doll, I want you to stay all night.”

“All night?”

“You think I’d let my baby girl out of my sight for the night if I didn’t?” He points out.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “You wanted to—“

“I hoped,” his flesh hand was in your hair now, holding you in pace whilst his left kept you against him. “I can’t keep up this façade, pretending I don’t want more with you. Like you don’t brighten both our lives with your presence.”

“Bucky,” your breaths are shallow, fast, eyes fixed on his.

His face contorted, several emotions passing across his face whilst his eyes softened.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he pleads. “I couldn’t bear to go through it again.”

Your eyes water slightly, heart tightening in empathy. The past month he’d held back, only holding your hand, or pressing a kiss to your forehead. You’d feared the lack of intimacy indicated no interest, but now you knew otherwise.

He had avoided moving too fast out of fear of repeating the past.

“It’s not too fast,” you promise. “I did wonder why you held yourself back.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowns. “I— I didn’t want to lead you on. I like you, in fact, I adore you. You’ve worked past the steel I’ve forged around my heart to make your home there, and you’ll never leave.”

You swallow audibly.

“When I met you,” your voice is quiet. “All I wanted to do was try and put a smile on that face. You looked so shaken from El wandering off, and concerned about disturbing me. My heart went out to you. The more time we spent together, the more you showed me every facet of who you are. The more I found myself wanting to be around you. Ironically, you make me happy when all I wanted was to do that for you.”

“You make me happy,” he gives you a nod before licking his bottom lip. “Let me show you.”

His breath fans across your face, and you faintly smell beer on it. A slight movement and his lips are on yours, keeping you secure against him as you reciprocate feeling the softness of his lips but not pushing any further.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is thick as his forehead leans against yours.

“Have you been drinking?” You say quietly, your heart sinking at the thought of him being drunk.

“Oh,” he hand drops from your face, reaching behind him to pick something up and show you the brown bottle — mostly full. “I took a sip when I heard you knock, I needed some courage.”

You glance at the bottle, feeling your muscles loosen up and give a relieved laugh.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“Don’t apologise,” he shakes his head. “Want one?”

“No, thanks,” you reach up to allow your fingers to tangle in the hair, flowing from above his ear to the base of his neck.

“Fair enough,” he takes a long sip before placing it back on the side table behind him. You quietly laugh again. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” you grin. “Needing a beer like you’ve never spoken to a woman. It’s cute.”

“I don’t need a beer to speak to a woman,” he pretends to be offended. “I need a beer to speak with you.”

You snort. “Corny.”

Unable to hold the serious expression, he laughs lightly.

“I am,” he agrees, then leans forward to press a quick peck to your mouth.

“Hey!” You complain with a laugh of your own. “Bucky!”

His left arm tightens around your waist a moment, and he continues to tease you. “Sweetheart.”

“You’re so—” you wave your arm in mock frustration.

“Devastating handsome?” He winks.

Your voice gets caught in your throat, making a choking noise. His eyes widen slightly his horror, hand moving up to rub your back.

“You okay?” His tone dips in concern.

“You made me choke on my own spit!” You accuse him.

A relieved look passes his face.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, his hand still gently moving up and down your spine.

The sight of him suddenly felt too much. The fear in his eyes, the pink of his lips pressed together, the way his jawline twitched slightly as he strained.

“You are handsome,” you admit, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth.

“Yeah?” His lips twitch up slightly.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “And kind, and funny.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “And you’re the most generous woman I have ever met. Beautiful, gentle and caring. You ask nothing of me, you accept my poor excuses for not being with you—”

“Taking care of your daughter isn’t a poor excuse,” you interrupt.

“Let me finish,” he presses a finger to your lips. “You don’t mind Eileen being on our dates. You ask after her, treat her as your own.”

His blue eyes soften. “She loves you, you know?”

Your lip trembles slightly. “I love her.”

Bucky’s lips pull up into a proper smile, a rare sight. “As do I.”

The doorbell then rang.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Coming!”

In a flurry of shuffling and cursing, Bucky got off the sofa and headed to the door. The sight of such him stumble around, almost tripping brought a giggle to your lips.

You hear him grumble at you down the corridor before enthusiastically greeting the delivery driver, exchanging pleasantries before re-emerging into the room, carrying several boxes under his arm.

“You remain wordless, amused as he lays out the boxes onto the coffee table.

“Ah,” he slumps back next to you, remote in hand to turn on the TV. The chatter and music seemed faint compared to the sound of Bucky shifting to grab his beer again and reach for a slice with the other.

“Happy now?” You tease.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Been a long time since I had an evening like this.”

“Should I leave you alone with—?” You nod to the food.

“No,” he answers quickly, placing his beer down, then swapping the pizza from one hand to the other before holding out his free arm. “Get over here.”

You shuffle over, half your body covering his, as he finishes off his slice.

“Here,” his left arm holds you as his right reaches over for another slice. “Open.”

You blink a second before opening your mouth to allow him to feed you. You chew slowly, taking in his relaxed expression.

“This is nice,” you admit. “Domestic, comfortable. Like… home.”

He freezes for a moment. “Like home?”

You nod softly. “Better, because you’re here.”

“Yeah?” He asks rhetorically. “We could make this more permanent, honey.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could stay over,” he suggests. “Spend the weekends with El and me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to cause Eileen any confusion?” You say quietly. 

He snorts. “I’d cause her more by keeping you away.”

“And what if we sleep together?”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it,” he snags another piece, taking a big bite to avoid speaking further.

“Bucky,” you voice is almost a whine. 

“Hush and eat your food,” his voice is gentle, no semblance of harshness in his tone.

“Yes sir,” you mutter, reaching over to join him in having pizza.

Slowly, as the take out boxes emptied, you ended up laid down, Bucky underneath, his back against the armrest, whilst your head was on his chest as your fingers brushed against his shirt.

Every so often, you’d move up and kiss him, softly. Taking your time to make the most of being alone with him. Then he’d occasionally move, tilting his head down to push his lips against the crown of your head, then tilting your head back to kiss you lazily, no force behind it, only a tempered heat that sparked the desire for more.

“Hey,” you hear him murmur. “You awake, sweetheart?”

“Barely,” your voice is a whisper, his body rumbles as he chuckles.

“Need me to carry you to bed?” His tone is teasing again.

“I— I don’t have any clothes,” you don’t move despite the comment.

“You can have some of mine,” he promises. “Come on, doll. Let’s get you in bed.”

As he moved, keeping you on his lap before turning and picking you up with surprising ease, it occurred to you that this is what he probably did with Eileen every night. Let her tire herself out before scooping her up and gently putting her under the covers.

It was a basic act of love. Something Bucky was used to, rather than the awkwardness of trying to force something on a date.

You barely notice where you are until he pops you onto what you assume is his bed. He goes to his drawers pulling out several pieces of clothing

“Here,” he gently tosses you a grey shirt. “I’m gonna change. Feel free to use the bathroom.”

He leaves through the open door, and you hear his footsteps as he heads down the corridor.

The room is dimly lit by the light filtering from the neighbouring bathroom, the bed sheets a simple navy blue, and upon the drawers were framed photos. Several were of Eileen, one was of Bucky, his arm around a man you didn’t recognise — Sam, you assumed. Then there was another, a new one, that you recognised. It was you, sat next to Bucky on the bench in the Space Museum. The photo was blurry, having been taken by Eileen herself, but even so you could see the happiness in Bucky’s eyes, the slight tilt in his lips.

You hadn’t realised you were standing until you reached to touch it, eyes watering slightly at his sentimentality.

“Hey,” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “You okay, doll?”

“You framed this?” Your voice is shaky.

“Of course,” he speaks casually. “It’s the only picture I have of you.”

“It’s only been two months,” you peek over at him from the corner of your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” you feel him step behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. “Whether you know it or not, you’ve brightened my life. You’re important to me.”

“Bucky,” tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m not worth your tears, baby.”

“Yes, you are,” you sniffle, placing your hands on his. “You’re worth it all.”

You feel his breath against your ear, lips brushing faintly against your hairline.

“Still sleepy?” He asks.

Your head twists to look behind you then up at him. “A little, but I want you more.”

His eyes widen slightly at your words. “You’re sure?”

You nod, turning in his arms, and wrap your own arms around his neck.

“Yes,” you agree. “Nice and slow. Like you said.”

“I can do that,” he pulls you forward, stepping back until he falls back onto the bed, bringing you with him.

“Buck!” You laugh as you land on his chest, the thin cotton of his pyjamas gave little protection when your hands brushed his hardness of his chest.

He chuckles. “Buck, eh?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks. “It kind of slipped out.”

“It’s okay,” he pulls you up carefully until you are face to face. “It’s more than okay.”

“You don’t mind?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile. “I only allow those closest to me to call me Buck.”

“Yeah?”

The smile turns into a smirk as he hums in approval, leaning up to kiss you.

The kiss is different again, slow like before but with clear intent. A hand reaches to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. His lips move with precision, taking care not to push too far.

“Slow,” he murmurs against your lips as if reminding himself. You lean down this time, pressing gentle kisses across his face, working down to his neck before giving it a nip with your teeth.

“Easy,” his fingers brush through your hair. “Gonna get me off before our clothes are off.”

You giggle quietly. “Sorry.”

“No apologies,” his hand moves from your head to tilt your chin up. “Don’t be sorry for any of this. This is perfect.”

You pull back, and catch the hurt in his eyes. Your chest tightens with guilt, and you manage a deep breath before reaching under your skirt — pulling the dress off in a single movement.

“Oh,” his hands fall to your hips, eyes locked on your bare chest only covered by a simple bra. “That’s not slow, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel you,” you admit as you reach down, hands roaming up his arms as you lower yourself back down onto him.

He doesn’t say a word, instead his right hand moves up your skin, leaving a soft tingle in its wake, before stopping just at the hem of your bra.

“May I?” His voice is low with desire, eyes on your chest.

You nod, feeling enraptured by the sensation of his hands on you. His hand slid under your bra cupping your breast, then brushing his thumb over your skin.

“They’re real soft,” he murmurs, concentrating on how his fingers seemed to disappear into them.

“Been a while?” You guess.

His eyes flicker to yours. “I never got to experience this — to just touch. To get to know someone so intimately.”

“Here,” you reach up and pull down the straps on your bra, then unhook from behind you and throw it on the floor. “I trust you.”

He pulls himself further up, keeping you seated on his lap whilst his hands hovered over you.

“Still okay?” He asks, and you nod.

The sensation of one hand cold and the other warm, sent your mind into overdrive with sensation. Your nipples perking up slightly in interest as his fingers squeezed.

You reach forward, humming quietly at the feel of him on you, and reach for the bottom of his top.

“May I?” You whisper.

“Please,” he removes his hands and allows you to pull it over his head. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment at the sight of him.

You had known he was well built, and big, but seeing him without a shirt felt altogether different. Large shoulders framing his chest. Curiosity breaks through, your hands drift onto his chest, brushing softly against his chest, downwards as you notice there is no six pack, only the feel of muscle with a healthy layer of fat. It felt soft, like somewhere you wished to lay your head on every night.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” He asks, eyes fixed on your every expression.

“It feels nice,” you admit.

“Don’t exactly look like I’d fit the cover on Men’s Health, do I?” His tone is joking, but you scowl at him regardless.

“Yet you probably could lift a small car with those muscles,” you say, fingers now pressing into the muscles of his arm, one hand exploring soft muscle the other tracing the plates of his arm.

“That’s what the metal arm is for,” he jokes and leans forward to press a kiss to your mouth again.

You laugh as you pull away from the peck. “Could you lift me?”

“Easily,” he admits casually.

“Very humble,” you tease him, as his fingers begin to trace your sides.

“You asked,” he smirks.

“I did,” you agree, brushing your nose against his. “I’m curious what else,” your hand roams over his metal arm. “This arm can do.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Dirty.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. He laughs then, all tension removed from the moment. 

”Bucky,” your voice is almost a whine.

“Breathe,” his voice turns soft. “It’s just us. You don’t have to hide anything.”

You give him a playful scowl, then shake your head.

“Are you asking me to talk dirty?” Your voice is slightly hesitant.

”Only if you want to,” his fingers made patterns on your bare sides. “Or I can…”

You feel his lips brush your cheek before speaking low in your ear. “You have no idea how hard it has been to keep our dates safe for El’s eyes. Trying to keep my eyes off you. When we first met—”

He pauses, shifting back to stare at you, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry about that. I checked you out and spoke without thinking. I was as embarrassed as you were, it’s why I wished to escape, and why it took me so long to text you.”

Your arms tighten around his neck. “You’re only human.”

He lets out an awkward chuckle, licking his bottom lip anxiously. “Thanks”

You lean forward to press a kiss to his mouth, moving slowly as you press yourself against him. One hand presses against the small of your back as the other slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

You gasp as he turns, causing you to land on your back head against the pillows looking up at him.

“Had enough talking?” His voice breaks slightly.

You nod, still slightly wide eyed.

“Good,” he buries his head into your neck, inhaling through his nose as his hands moved down to your underwear.

Your own hands mirrored his, reaching to pull him free. The moment dragged, suddenly the urgency of made it feel like no matter how hard either of you tried the clothes were just not coming off.

“That was more difficult than when it was my first fucking time,” he grumbles, kicking his leg to ensure he was completely bare.

You laugh quietly and shake your head. “Come here.”

He leans down again to kiss you. Even as your lips moved with his your could feel him against you, the warmth of his skin against your chest, your hands feeling the muscles of his back.

With a groan, his hips roll over yours to allow you to feel how hard he was. Your legs lift instinctively to allow him easier access.

There were no words passed between you. Bucky only lifted himself slightly to look into your eyes as you give a tiny nod to confirm you were consenting to all of it.

A hand abruptly landed on your thigh, curling inwards before moving between your bodies reaching to grasp himself and line himself up.

“It’s been a while,” he admits. “If I do anything it hurts, or anything you don’t like. Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” your voice is breathy, almost silent from the tension of the moment.

His blue eyes stay fixed on you, reading your expression before you feel the tip of him press against you.

He moved slowly, as if he feared that moving too fast would break you in half. Yet somehow it made everything better. You gasped as you stretched around him, friction building despite your arousal and the an ache that had previously gone unnoticed seemed to soothe as he bottomed out.

You exhale slowly as he pressed his forehead against yours, the room silent other than the sound of heavy breathing.

“You okay?” His voice broke slightly at the intensity.

“Yeah,” you respond, reaching so your arms wrap around him, hands grasping his shoulders. From the corner of your eyes you see the showdown of his own arms bracing himself above you.

Bucky keeps his eyes on yours. “Keep yours eyes on me, please.”

His hips move and withdraw slightly before pushing forward gently. A moan gets caught in your throat as you feel the stretch again.

The look in his eyes is intense, focused and his jaw ticks slightly as he concentrates.

“You’re making it real hard to hold it together honey,” he voice come from between clenched teeth.

“Slower?” You suggest and he shakes his head sharply.

“That’ll kill me,” his lips twitch in amusement at the thought. “I need to move.”

You brace your feet against the softness of the bedsheet, allowing your thighs to wrap around his hips lightly.

“Then move, Bucky,” you whisper your encouragement. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He remains still, his eyes still focusing on you.

“Trust me?”

The words seem to stir something in him, his face softens, jaw loosening and he lets out a sharp exhale as though he had been holding his breath.

In a single movement he pulls out, then in an instant he pushes back in, watching as you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His body begins to move in rhythm, faster than the first few thrusts but enough you find yourself keeping up, attempting to sync up with him.

The room felt oddly quiet only than the soft slapping of skin and your breathy sighs of pleasure.

“Feels good,” he murmurs, and leans down brush his nose against yours. He begins to move faster, just enough that you see him groan, his mouth passing yours a moment before leaving a trail of saliva from the edge of your lips to jawline.

“Bucky,” you moan as you feel him give a hard thrust and hold it there.

“More?” He suggests, his lips at your ear.

“Please,” your eyes sting slightly as your chest tightens slightly, desperate.

He pulls himself up to hover over you. One hand grasping your thigh, pulling it up, swinging your calf over his shoulder and pressing down.

“Oh f—” you cry out as you feel him push deeper, brushing against a spot that sends a flood of warmth through you.

“There,” he inhales, taking a moment whilst his left hand brushed your side, the cool of the metal leaving tingles in its wake before slipping down between your legs. “I’ve got you.”

The headboard banged against the wall with his next thrust, your voice gets caught in your throat, lips still parted as he hits with such precision you begin to fear being overheard at the noises you suppress.

“Let it out,” he commands, tone gentle. “I wanna hear it.”

Your voice cracks slightly as a long moan escapes you. “Bucky, please—”

“Close?” He asks and you nod frantically.

It was then he leaned down to kiss you, your bodies still rocking in an attempt to sync up, your legs begin to tremble around him. The metal of his fingers brushed the swollen nub between you, forcing your apart just a moment as your back arches into him with a soft cry, before he presses himself down on you. His weight holding you in place, mouth suppressing your sounds. His fingers continue, rubbing hard against you as he snaps forward hard.

Your body clamps around him, your cries muffled by his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, as you feel him continue, the friction against your walls making your eyes roll.

Bucky kisses your deeper then, almost as through to push you further into the mattress as he presses hard against your walls before his large frame shudders, and you feel a rush of liquid alongside your own.

His forehead lays softly on top of yours, and you watch his entire face soften. His eyes are shut, lips slightly parted as he breathes deeply before letting out a quiet laugh.

“Bucky?” You whisper, his eyes flicker open. The blue piercing through you.

“That was reckless,” he chuckles, shifting his weight to prop himself on both arms. “No condom.”

“Oh,” heat rushes to your cheeks as you realise the slight faux pas. You lips part to apologise.

“Don’t apologise,” he cuts you off. “I haven’t felt like this in nearly a decade. Just doing something because it’s fun, consequences be damned.”

You swallow, fingers reaching up to brush against his cheek. “I like that.”

“Yeah, enough to do it again?” His voice is quiet, nervous.

“Now?” You suppress a smile.

“Maybe in an hour,” he shrugs. “Was thinking of a bath? Then we can sleep, get El and maybe brunch?”

“That sounds…” your eyes gaze over for a moment, consumed by domestic thoughts. Sitting in the living room, colouring with Eileen. Having Bucky laid on your lap, running your fingers through his hair. Maybe a day would pass when you’d surprise Eileen with a sibling.

“Sounds nice,” you agree.

His shifts instantly, scooping you into his arms to carry you into the bathroom. His arms tighten around you instinctively and you hear him murmur above you.

“As long you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

The door creaked open and Bucky stepped into the apartment he shared with you. He’d been gone three days on mission.

Bone-tired, ready for nothing more than a shower maybe an hot meal and your arms around his body.

But the sight that greeted him made his stomach plummet.

You were at the counter, frosting cupcakes with your usual precision. Christmas was about to come so you had to prepare the new flavours for your cupcakes.

Flour dusted your apron and a smudge of chocolate on your cheek. What stopped him cold was the darkening bruise marring your forehead, just above your brow.

“Sweetheart?” His voice came out sharp, almost strangled.

You turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “Oh my god, you’re back.I miss-”

Words dying in your throat seeing his face.

Before you could smile he was already across the room. His massive frame on you in an instant.

Arms circling your shoulders.

Lips trembling.

Eyes narrowing.

His hands hovered by your face, trembling. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

You blinked. “Bucky-”

“Tell me.” His tone was low, urgent. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like he couldn’t get enough air. “Did a customer do this? Did someone put their hands on you at the bakery? God, doll... you should’ve called me... I would’ve-”

Standing in front of him, arms caging you delicately, you began to see how he was ready to go full Winter Soldier mode. You press your palms on his hard chest. “Bucky, no, it’s not-”

“Don’t protect them,” he interrupted, spiraling faster.

His metal fist clenched so hard you swore you could hear the servos creak. His flesh hand kept hovering, terrified to hurt you further but unable to stop reaching. His eyes never stooped looking at the purple bruise around your eye.

“Just say the name and I’ll make sure they never-”

“BUCKY!”

Your voice cracked, louder than you intended. It made him freeze, eyes snapping to yours in shock.

The panic on his face softened into something almost boyish, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. His lips parted, but no words came.

You sighed, rubbing your flour covered hands down your apron. “Bucky, stop... please. Just… stop for a second and listen to me.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, stepping back a half pace like he was giving you space. His shoulders were still tight, his chest still heaving, but he nodded once.

You exhaled, gentler now. “No one hit me. No one yelled at me. No one touched me. This,” you pointed at your forehead, “was all me being clumsy. I was reaching for a box of cake pans on the top shelf and it fell. Right on my face.”

Silence.

Bucky stared at you like he couldn’t process it, then slowly raked his hand down his face. “You’re telling me…” His voice was a low rasp. “That I just had a goddamn heart attack over… cookware?”

A guilty smile tugged at your lips. “Technically bake ware.”

For a long beat, he just stared. Then a short, disbelieving laugh slipped out of him. He shook his head, pressing his hands to his hips. “Jesus Christ, doll... I was two seconds away from hunting down every customer you’ve ever served.”

You stepped more closer, softening. “And that’s why I had to yell. You were scaring me a little.”

That made him still, his chest tightening. He looked down at you, eyes flickering with guilt. “I scared you?”

“Not because of you,” you reassured quickly, brushing flour-dusted fingers over his jaw. “Because I could see you slipping. Like you were about to lose yourself. And I didn’t want that… for you or me.”

His shoulders dropped at that, all the fight draining out of him.

He carefully framed your face in his hands, flesh and metal both gentle as silk. “I’m sorry, doll. I just… I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you. You’re my safe place. If anything took that away…” His voice cracked.

You leaned into his palms, smiling softly. “Then you’d still have me. Bruises and all. I promise I’ll survive a runaway box.”

Bucky huffed out a breath, shaking his head, then pressed a feather-light kiss to your bruise. “That box is lucky it’s not alive. Otherwise, I’d have words.”

You laughed, pulling him down into a flour-dusted hug. “Maybe next time I’ll just call my tall and strong boyfriend to grab it for me.”

For a few moments, his attention drifted back outside. The rain lashed violently against the windows of the room in a relentless patter. Every few seconds, a clap of thunder tore through the sky, so close it made the glass rattle. It didn’t take long for him to focus on what was right in front of him when he heard your muffled moan and felt your hips move as he fucked you with his fingers.

Bucky gave a crooked smile at the sight of you in need. His fingers shot out of your wet, swollen pussy to deliver a quick slap that made you whimper, then he mercilessly thrust those long fingers back inside you.

“Your father’s worried because his beloved daughter is away from home, and all you’re thinking about is coming.” He taunted as he thrust and curled his fingers harder.

Your lips parted to let out a sharp moan as Bucky pressed upward, right on that spot he knew so well thanks to all those secret encounters.

“O-Oh, fuck,” you gasped as you arched your back. “Keep going, Bucky.”

He could see you were getting close just from his fingers, but he knew better than anyone what drove you wild.

Without wasting any time, he pulled his fingers out again, making you whine in frustration until his hands moved to your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he knelt on the floor.

He didn’t hesitate to bury his face between your legs, sealing his lips around your swollen clitoris and sucking hard enough to make your legs tremble and release your flesh with a wet pop. His tongue slid through your slippery folds, savoring you as if you were his favorite meal.

His thick, graying beard rubbed against your inner thighs and your swollen flesh with every movement of his licks and sucks.

Bucky loved being loud and making it clear to you that only he would eat your pussy like that. And of course, you loved him all the more for it.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pushing him even closer to your pussy as you felt that intense pleasure coil through your belly.

“D-Don’t stop!” you commanded, your voice broken by moans.

Your hips shook as the orgasm hit you with devastating force.

His tongue licked desperately, refusing to let a single drop of your juices go to waste.

You gasped for breath as your body went limp in a haze of pleasure and satisfaction, while Bucky trailed open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen, leaving a trail of saliva and your arousal on your skin.

His large hands reached for your breasts, squeezing them gently, and his lips pressed against yours in a passionate kiss.

“Will you tell me what you were doing out here at this hour, gorgeous?” he asked between kisses on your jaw and neck.

Your hands slid down his torso, savoring the contours of his abdomen and letting his kisses set you ablaze once more.

“Just… a date with a guy,” you whispered as your hand brushed against his erection.

Bucky’s body tensed for a second. A second in which that pang of jealousy and possessiveness flashed through his chest, but he could brush it off as a reaction to the movement of your hand over his underwear.

“A guy?” he teased as he leaned in to take a playful bite out of one of your breasts. “You and I both know a guy couldn’t treat you the way you like… Only a real man can do that.”

His comment didn’t surprise you at all. After all, every time a boy showed up in your life, Bucky would tease you, saying, “Oh, come on. You can do better than that,” or “Stay away from boys and date a man.”

He pushed you to the center of the bed and effortlessly turned you face down. One hand pressed between your shoulder blades to hold you down while the other guided your hips upward.

“And are you really that man, James?” you teased playfully.

His palm immediately smacked your butt, making you let out a little yelp, then he immediately spread your butt cheeks apart and his thumb teased that tight little ring just to watch you squirm in embarrassment.

It was clear he wouldn’t go in the back door if you weren’t ready, but damn, how he enjoyed making you nervous and bringing you down a notch.

“You know the answer.”

Bucky pulled his boxers down just enough to finally pull out his hard cock, the tip flushed and dripping.

The way the head brushed against your pussy made you gasp until it finally began to press against your entrance, forcing you to press your chest against the mattress as you moaned at the sensation of it sliding in.

Feeling it thrust those last few inches in one go made your hands clench the bedsheets.

The initial rhythm consisted of slow glides and quick thrusts, simply because James enjoyed the doggy-style position—it allowed him to see every detail of your ass bouncing and his cock disappearing into your tight heat, while controlling the depth and pace.

“Yes… I love it…” you blurted out without thinking. His voice was tense and breathless. “I love seeing my beautiful girl take it like this.”

His hand on your waist and your hip held you in place to receive the thrusts that were beginning to increase in strength and speed. Each pelvic thrust made your skin slap loudly and the bed sway beneath you.

“O-Oh, Bucky! You fuck me so good.” You moaned as you buried your face in the sheets.

Each thrust was accompanied by a moan or a growl from him as your words pierced his chest.

If he fucked you so well and your little pussy squeezed him so perfectly, it could only mean one thing to him: you were meant for him.

It didn’t matter that you were younger than him, that your relationship was casual and without commitment, or that you were his best friend’s daughter; he didn’t want to let you go anymore—you fit perfectly in his arms.

His movements grew wilder, more primal.

His body leaned over yours to wrap one arm around your torso while his other hand slid between your legs. The touch on your clitoris was bold; his fingers pinched and rolled the swollen nub in time with his thrusts.

“Mine. My pretty girl,” he growled into your ear. “My little toy.”

Your tight walls clenched around him as you moaned uncontrollably and tears streamed down your cheeks. Each contraction made his vision blur for a second and his muscles tense like a spring ready to snap.

“I should knock you up…” he whispered to himself at first. “No more worried dad because you’re away from home. No more idiots who don’t know how to treat a girl like you. Just me, having my beautiful girl at home and being so sweet as to let me use her gorgeous pussy whenever I want.

His cock slid in as if its sole purpose were to tear your tight pussy apart as it should be.

You trembled uncontrollably beneath him while your face was covered in tears and saliva—you’d started drooling, completely drunk on his cock. It was the first time James had been so possessive and talked about getting you pregnant, but you were so overwhelmed that you could only nod weakly.

Bucky’s hips shuddered. He was thrilled to know you were willing to be his.

“I’m going to fill you up… I’m going to put a baby inside you.”

Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm left you breathless for a few seconds and your walls squeezed him tightly. With a hoarse groan, he slammed his hips into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as his orgasm washed over him.

His hips jerked with every spurt that was released inside you; for your part, you could only tremble and whimper as his throbbing cock pulsed against your sensitive pussy.

“That’s it… Good girl. Take it all.”

He was still fucking you shallowly to squeeze every last drop from his balls, while his hand moved to your belly and he let himself imagine a future in which he would have you all to himself, living in his house with his child growing inside you.

☆*⁀‧₊˚☆*⁀‧₊˚☆*⁀‧₊˚☆*⁀‧₊˚☆*⁀‧₊˚☆*⁀‧₊˚☆*⁀‧₊˚

“Why do you still live there? It’s so far from here.” Sam asked Bucky on the jet, coming back from a mission.

“Yeah pal,” Steve adjusted his shield. “It’s far and you always have something to do.”

Bucky looked down at his boots.

He liked that place, the cozy condo he found four or five block away from the Avengers’ Tower, but he loved even more his neighbor.

“It’s somewhere I can wind down… you know how I am…” Bucky gulped, worried about saying something more than what he wanted. “It’s also cheap and there’s no Tony Stark pumping heavy metal in the morning.” He smirked.

The billionaire laughed snorting at the cockpit near Nat.

The remaining journey back home was quiet and peaceful, everyone thought about what to do within the next couple of days of rest.

Once the jet landed on the tower’s platform, Bucky packed his bag and headed out.

He always walked from the tower to his condo. He liked the night air and the dark atmosphere around him. He passed in front of a florist, and like every time he did, he thought of coming home to you with a big bouquet of roses. He saw in his mind the happiness on your face, your arms linked to his neck and your body pressed to his.

The reality was way more different.

You were on his floor, your door right in front of his. Some hello every now and then, a wave of hand if you saw him while being on the phone. He would never forget how your eyes widened the first time you saw him.

You recognized him immediately.

Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, on your floor.

Broad shoulders, wide chest, blue eyes and dark brown hair. A cheeky but shy smile when he presented even if that wasn’t necessary.

You run into your apartment, not wanting to face him and Bucky immediately got it.

You were scared of him.

Again, the reality was different.

Once you run into your apartment, you rested your back against the door. Chest moving up and down, a hand on your heart trying to calm it down. Your lower lip crushed between your teeth.

Bucky Barnes was by far the most handsome and hottest man you’ve ever seen.

Your body reacted immediately, like on autopilot, and you clenched your legs.

In the following days, you took a peek in the peephole trying to figure his routine.

Bucky did the same with you, but you had very different habits.

Bucky at five in the morning always headed out for his morning run. You preferred sleep.

Around nine, you finally woke up. Shower and a light breakfast and then straight to your office. At the same time he usually took his shower after his four hours of cardio and exercises.

Having different habits and routines, and not seeing you both as much, made it even more weird when you both got locked in the elevator.

People were supposed to know your neighbors and the fact he was taking more space with his body made you tremble.

Bucky got that as fear.

He saw you in the corner of the elevator, trapped and scared. He tried to make himself little bit but of course it was impossible.

He was a super soldier, six feet tall and 200+ pounds. His shoulders took all the space and he shuffled in his feet uncomfortably and ashamed of his past.

In your head tho, the reality was the total opposite.

You looked at him, finally not from a peephole. It seemed that his shoulders almost asked you to grab them, to rest your tights on them while he ate you out while grabbing his locks. You took a moment to admire his metal arm. You noticed how he tried to pull down the sleeve, trying to cover even the hand.

You took your sweet time admiring his lips. They seemed so soft and full. Imaging them on your skin made you shiver more.

His eyes were the thing you loved more. They were usually so shiny and bright. A blue so intense you found yourself staring at them in pictures once you found out he was your neighbor.

The great Bucky Barnes. The man turned into a weapon and then finally a hero with all the recognition he deserved.

You suspected he wouldn’t like being recognized like the Winter Soldier and so you preferred waving at him from the distance and simply saying hello to him.

“Sucks being stuck here, right?” You tried to asked him.

He hummed nodding.

“Okay,” you whispered crossing your arms on your chest. “So… do you like it here?”

“It’s fine.”

This time, you nodded without speaking.

You saw him in the opposite corner of the elevator far from you, as far as the space allowed.

Suddenly the elevator shook and you lost balance, crushing into his arms. His reflexes were on point like you suspected, as he grabbed you in a second. His flesh arm around your waist and your face against his chest. You inhaled his intoxicating smell. You didn’t see it but he smelled your hair too as he was way more taller than you.

“Oh sorry, Bucky.”

You looked up at him.

He looked down at you.

Bucky.

You said his name, so you of course knew him.

You saw the pain in his eyes. The regret of his past conditioning his present.

He removed the arm immediately from you and licked his lips.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Did it hurt you?” He asked with a low tone.

You were about to reply but the elevators’ door opened. You saw two firefighters opening the heavy and metal door.

“Are you alright guys? Hey,” one of the firefighters removed his helmet. “You’re Bucky Barnes… god… you’re a hero.”

“Yeah… thanks…” Bucky replied shyly.

The firefighter who opened the door immediately helped you to get down since you were blocked between two floors. You refused his hand, and looked for Bucky’s hand. He gave his flesh hand to you, helping you balancing.

You looked at him straight in the eyes while thanking him.

It was now two weeks after being locked in the elevator. Bucky was nowhere to be found. He disappeared three days after.

You heard his door opened during the night and you immediately run towards the peephole. You saw him with his tactical gear and a duffle bag.

Almost a week away, you heard the news.

The Avengers were in a country you barely remember the name, fighting for the world. The local anchorman and cameraman filmed them after a fight.

Dirty, bloody and exhausted.

Bucky appeared on the screen.

Your breath got stuck in your throat.

He was suffering, painfully tired and absolutely handsome. His eyes tired and puffy. His chest moving up and down.

You picked the phone up and took a picture of the screen.

You missed him so much even tho you barely interacted with each other.

You got back on the bed and closed your eyes imagining him coming back.

After another week, he was back. You heard the keys in the door and immediately jumped up from your couch. You swung your door opened as he was about to close his.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

He turned and looked at you.

He didn’t have the same exhausted and dirty look he had on TV the week before, but he had a sad look in his eyes.

“Go back to sleep.”

“No.”

“We barely know each other… you should stay away from me.”

“No.” You replied again.

Bucky moved suddenly and you took a step back flinching at the speed not at him.

He froze.

“See?” He smiled sadly and got inside his apartment.

You run towards the closed door. “Bucky, please… you don’t get it. Open please.”

You kept knocking on his door but he didn’t answer.

He stayed near the door, hearing your knocking and looking at you through the peephole.

After some minutes your eyes were red and tears began to stream on your cheeks.

Bucky died inside seeing you like that, but he kept his facade.

As the days passed, you noticed how he avoided you even more. It looked like he was trying to even avoid getting on the floor the same time as you. At least sometimes you used to meet at the elevator.

He kept his five in the morning run cause he knew you would sleep at that time. He began to notice how the curtain of the living room, perfectly on sight from the street, was closed every time you were out and wide opened when you were in as you took all the natural light possible. He started monitoring the curtain as his personal tracker.

Close safe.

Open not safe.

It was inevitable seeing each other again.

It happened one afternoon after a summer storm. You were back from the office, no umbrella and light dress on. The first thunder made you walk a little bit more faster. As the rain began to pour, you found yourself two blocks ways from the condo.

The water wet your dress, making it cling to your body. Sadly that attracted weird looks from a man waiting on the bus.

You passed in front of the stop, one block from home, and he whistled at you. You kept your face down for not getting an eye contact with the man, and also for shielding your eyes from the rain and wind. You were right in front of your door looking for your keys, sensing his presence approaching.

“Hey beautiful,” the man began. “Why don’t you let me in your home.”

“Get off!”

“Mommy didn’t teach you the manners?” He lifted his arm in the air. You didn’t know what for, because it got stuck in the air.

Turning, you saw something shiny and metallic grabbing the man’s wrist.

Bucky.

You exhaled calming yourself, while your heart kept beating hard in your chest.

“Think you need to go dude.” Bucky said with a lower tone of voice. His eyes almost closed threatening, teeth gnarling and an evil smirk on his face. A wet wall of muscle, probably coming back from a run.

The man completely shuttered.

He nodded quickly and once Bucky left him, he run in the rain.

“Bucky,” you began.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked you worried. “Did he?”

You shook your head, thinking at what could have happened. “Thank you. You’re my hero.” You said opening the door of the hallway.

He looked down, letting you pass in front of him. You noticed he gave a final look at the street before closing the door.

You press the elevators’ button and stood near him. His scent, mixed with the rain, was in the air and you found yourself inhaling all.

The elevator hissed and again he let you pass in front of him. He pushed your floor’s button and rest his back against the wall of the elevator.

His henley stuck to his chest, his hair wet and messy. He passed a hand through them and you took a deep breath.

You turned and pressed your chest against his.

“Don’t talk.”

You pressed your lips against his, lifting yourself on your tip. Your arms circled his neck as your fingers began to play with his hair.

He growled in the kiss and grabbed your hips. You began to press yourself more against him and you felt definitely something getting harder.

“Wait,” Bucky told you. His hands on your shoulders. “Wait… wait… wait.”

Shame and sadness on your face.

You’ve never felt so bad.

Was that meaning he wasn’t interested in you?

Was it all in your head?

Were you the only one feeling the attraction?

“Sorry Bucky… I misjudged apparently…”

You slid away from him.

The elevators’ door opened and you rushed out. Bucky remained blocked and shocked.

You kissed him.

Hardly and passionately and roughly.

He saw you closed the door of your apartment and disappeared.

Why did he told you to wait?

Wait what?

Something more exciting of this?

His body reacted way too good at you but his brain stopped him.

He got back to his home and didn’t let anyone interrupting him.

He moved to the bedroom, cock heavy in his pants. He laid down on the bed while removing pants and underwear. He grabbed his shaft, already hard and leaking. He thought about your face, your hands around his neck and your chest against his.

Your soft and full boobs crushing on his hard pecks. He pressed his metal hand more around the base of his cock, while his mind pictured you in your soaked dress. The fabric clinging to your body like a vision.

He slid his hand up and down more, his thumb gliding on his tip as he felt the pleasure rising in his body.

What he didn’t know in that moment, was that you were doing the same in your bedroom.

You didn’t even take your time to remove the dress, you simply pulled it up around your hips as you sat on the bed. Legs spread opened and your phone on the dresser.

Bucky’s news picture on the screen.

You looked at him. His eyes looked at you as you were able to capture the moment the starred at the camera.

Your hands began to slid down your body. You fingers rolling your nipples pinching them.

Your chest already moving up and down quickly. You spread your legs more, lifting one on the mattress. Your index began to play with your clit, but it wasn’t enough.

Sitting better, you laid down on your elbow and rolled your clit more into your fingers.

“Bucky…” you panted. “Yeah… please…”

You licked two fingers and slid them in your hole. Already worked up, you didn’t need much time.

His picture staring at him was able to let the pleasure rise in you. You grabbed the sheet under you and starred more at the pic. You remembered his chest against yours, how his hands grabbed your hips and his soft and wet hair in your fist.

“Please let me come Bucky…”

“Please let me come Bucky…”

Bucky couldn’t possibly imagining what was happening on the other side of the wall. He suspected over the weeks that your bedroom was right near his and just a wall was separating you. Now he was sure.

He heard your moans after coming down from his high, already worked up enough.

He stood up, letting his clothes fall on the ground and rest naked against the wall. He pressed his forehead on the wall and grabbed his cock hard again.

Being a super soldier with enhanced senses had some flaws but this one was definitely an advantage.

Metal hand on the wall and flesh around his cock, Bucky began to pant and moan again.

He heard all the wetting sound your fingers made. He heard his name coming out of your lips and that made him shiver more.

“Y/N,” he grunted against the wall, punching it as he came again.

It was the first time he said your name out loud.

Everything stopped and he realized it later.

You heard him hearing you.

You stood, unsatisfied, and walked toward the wall. “Bucky?” You asked in the silence of a stormy afternoon.

“Yeah…”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah… I can…” his hand still around his cock. He pumped himself more as you spoke.

“Want to help me?” Your hand slid down too. “Why don’t you come here? I’ll opened the door just now…”

Bucky heard your footsteps getting far and even your door unlocking. His sense were so overstimulated that he was aware of everything.

You got back and punch lightly the wall for him. “Here I am… I’m waiting Bucky…”

“I’m ruining you if I’ll come…”

“I’m counting on it…” you breathed out. Your fingers sliding inside you again and Bucky heard the wetting sound he heard before.

He took his short, no underwear, and put them on. “Coming sweetie.”

He didn’t think of putting his shirt on, it wasn’t necessary.

In a second he was inside your apartment.

You scent reached his nostril in a second and he felt his cock hardening even more.

He removed his shorts and began pumping himself again.

“Follow my voice, Bucky…” you told him.

He gulped and licked his lips and indeed followed your voice.

You kept talking to him until you saw him on the edge of your room, naked and hard. He growled when he saw you. He kept pumping himself as you kept sliding in and out your fingers from your pussy.

“How… how could you… po-possibily... hear me…oh my god…”

“Sweetie,” you saw his knuckles getting white as he pressed more. “Super hearing… you made me weak and on alert all the time…”

His cock twitched in his hand.

Naked too and legs spreading on the bed. You back anchored to the mattress as you rested on your elbow. Your hand kept playing with your pussy.

“Why don’t you come here?” You asked in a sexy tone.

He moved like a leopard, precise and fast.

He grabbed your knees and spread your legs even more. He took a look at your glistering pussy before diving in you. His tongue licked a long stripe until his teeth grabbed your tiny and pulsing clit.

“Fuck… Bucky… you’re so good…”

“I know… stay there…” he ordered you.

You tried, really tried, but he was too good and your upper body irreversibly stood a little.

As he felt your core clenching, after began pumping two fingers in you, he stopped.

“Why?” You whined.

“Told ya to stay there. You have to earn it now…”

He looked at you with a smirk, you didn’t feel any ounce of fear, just excitement.

He slid up, reaching for your lips. He dove his tongue in your mouth as his hand kept your chin steady. He bite your lower lip while his all body crushed yours. You felt his fingers still playing with your pussy.

“Bucky… please…” you panted against his mouth.

“You wanna come?” He asked you, kissing your neck.

You nodded.

He looked at you and turned your entire body on the bed.

“Ass up,” he said lightly spanking it. “Are you gonna stay there?”

“YES YES YES… I’LL DO IT…”

“Good girl…”

He kissed your back, still a little wet from the rain in your hair. He grabbed his fat cock and teasing your entrance with his tip. You tried to wiggle a little but you were remembered what he told you with his hand grabbing a little harder your hip. You stopped when you felt him sliding into you.

It stung a little but it immediately transformed into pleasure. You felt every inches of him, stretching you deliciously.

He grabbed your hips both and began to push harder inside you. “God you are made for me…”

“Bucky…” you were able only to pant and moan his name.

“Yeah… that’s my name… scream it loudly…let everyone hearing it…”

“BUCKY!” You screamed as he pull out and push himself inside hardly.

“So beautiful with that dress on it… wait,” he kept pushing inside you. “Is that my face on your phone?”

You froze while he was still pushing into you. In the rush of adrenaline you completely forgot your phone and his picture.

“Can… explain…” you tried to told him in the middle of your moans.

“God,” he lowered more on you, letting your legs buckled and fell on the bed. He crushed you more as he kept pounding in you. “That’s the hottest thing even… I heard my name from your mouth pretty girl…”

“Bucky… please…”

“Yeah… just like that…”

He grabbed a fist of your hair, pulling yourself up on your not so stable knees. He circled an arm around your waist, then rested his palm on your chest letting you up. Your back pressed more against his chest. His cock kept sliding in and out. He felt clenching your muscles and snacked a hand on your clit. His fingers played with your clit.

“God Bucky… I need to come…”

“Come pretty girl… come on my cock…”

Your body reacted in an aggressive rush of pleasure. He let you fell forward, balancing on your elbows. Your ass pushing more against him as he kept pushing and sliding in you walking you through your orgasm.

“I’m coming sweetie…” he rasped, hands grabbing your hips.

“Inside Bucky. I want it inside.”

He let his head fall behind and grunted as he came. Hot spout in you, that he kept inside with his big cock.

He finally slid out of you, resting his forehead on your back. Once he stood, you stopped him.

“Lay down.”

“What?” He asked you confused.

“Do it.”

He did, and laid down on the bed. You knelt on the bed and turned. Bucky began to understand once you straddled his legs.

You lowered your head near his cock, too close.

“Sweetie… you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” you smiled at him. “I really do.”

You pressed a kiss on his tip as he pushed his head more into the pillow. Grabbing the base of his shaft, you began to bob the head on him. He was very well endowed so you had to really hollowed your mouth. His hips jerked up a little as he felt the tip of his cock in the back of your throat.

His hand immediately flew to you head, grabbing a fist of your hair. He wasn’t controlling you, he was guiding you and you wanted to be guided by him.

Already overstimulated, Bucky came again in a few minutes. You let him come into your mouth, greedily swallowing all of him.

You felt on him, arms opened and chest ready to let you sleep on it.

As your skin touched his, he circled you with his arms and caged you against his warm and sweaty body.

He peppered your head of kisses, it was sweet and kind, totally the opposite of what you both did.

“Why did you avoid me, Bucky?”

“It was easier. You’re too pure to be in this with me…”

“But I want to…”

“No, you don’t,” Bucky slid his hand on your back in a gentle caress. “The first time you saw you run away… I know fear when I see it… but it’s not your fault… I mean…”

“OH MY GOD!” You laughed hard and loud. “YOU REALLY THINK THAT?”

Bucky looked at you as you stood naked in front of him.

“Sweetie it’s normal… I get it…”

“Why the hell would you think that after I let you fuck me?”

“Well-” Bucky stopped.

Now that he was thinking, why letting him in your bed if there’s only fear from your side?

“You don’t tremble because I scare you?”

“Bingo,” you replied sarcastically. You took a look at his sad eyes. “Oh god, Bucky I’m sorry… you must sensing fear from people a lot…”

He nodded sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well,” you said sitting on his tights and circling his neck with your arm. “I am not scarred of you… and the first time I saw you I run inside because I was horny…”

You looked down, right at his cock, and smirked.

“Horny?”

“Yes horny. Weren’t you horny the first time you saw me?”

“I’m always horny when I look at you…”

You turned, straddling his lap. The warm of your pussy touched his cock, hardening it again. You kissed him deeply and hardly. His tongue fought with yours. You snatched a hand between you, grabbing his half hard cock.

A couple of pumps and it was hard fully again.

Keeping kissing him, you let it slid inside you again.

You didn’t move, he didn’t just grab your hips.

He remained there, his cock protected in your warm and welcoming pussy. His metal hand, a little cold treat with the warm temperature in your room, resting on your back keeping you caged against him.

Kissing Bucky was good, maybe too good.

You rolled your lap a little and he grunted in your mouth. The sound made your nipple hardening even more.

He circled his flesh arm around you now, he pressed it against your hips.

You began to move a little, adjusting the position.

“Don’t move please…” he moaned.

You nodded but clenched your muscles. He moaned more, harder and deeper.

Music for your ears.

You did it again and made him come again.

A couple of pushes from under you as he came, made your orgasm approached too.

Hours later, the storm was already a memory from the past.

You convinced him to take a bath with you.

“How could I fit in there?” He asked you confused.

“We’ll make you fit…” you voluntary smirked in an allusive way.

You did made it fit in the tub.

His back completely against the end of the tub. His long and big legs spread opened. The right one completely out, resting his calf on the edge of the tub.

You sat in the middle of his legs, grazing his cock on more.

“Sweetie, you need to behave…”

“No.”

You laid down, back to his chest.

Your torso completely on him.

You took his arm and circled your collarbone with it.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you, sweetie?”

“More than okay, Bucky.” You said, eyes closed.

His metal fingers grazed your forehead, sliding out of your cheek some wet locks of hair.

“Can I wash your hair?” Bucky asked whispering.

“Of course, Bucky.”

You sat better, feeling already the loss of his chest to your back. You stretched your arm on the other edge of the tub, where some bottles stood there.

“Here,” you said, turning to him slightly. “Here’s the shampoo.”

He took the bottle as it was made of glass, then squeezed out a little amount of shampoo. Lathering between his hands, he makes the foam.

Once his fingers were on your scalp, you moaned.

“God… your so good…”

You heard him taking a deep breath.

“Mmh... Bucky… just like that…”

“Sweetie please…” he fought the urge to pull your head toward him and kissing you.

“I love this.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Figured…”

As he washed and rinse your hair, and even untangled them, you turned to him.

“Your turn…”

“What? How…”

“Don’t worry.”

You took the same little amount of shampoo and lathered it too.

You began washing his hair, and then you pulled his head toward your chest.

“Stay there.”

Bucky rested his face on your boobs, the best pillow he could get. They lightly giggled as you move your arm on his head.

He found himself cupping them with his both hands.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t say sorry. Do it again.”

He did.

Light and soft touch. He took care of them as he took care of you before.

His fingertips rolling your nipples making you deep breathes.

Once you rinsed his hair, he kissed your chest.

“I can get used to this, sweetie.”

“You have to get used to it.”

You kissed him, he circled your waist and pulled you against him slouching some water out the tub.

Thinking of the question from Steve about how he preferred living there, well… now he had a real answer.

The thing about cravings, pregnancy cravings, is that they’re a mystery even to the person experiencing them. This is why Bucky Barnes, ex-assassin turned cuddle-bear, stood frozen in the kitchen mid-bite of his third Pop-Tart as his very pregnant and hormonal wife stared blankly at the open fridge like it had personally offended her.

“I don’t know what I want, Buck!” You cried, throwing your hands up and nearly knocking over a bowl of oranges in the process. “But whatever it is… it’s not in there and I hate it… and I hate this fridge… and why is this light so bright?”

Bucky blinked slowly, then glanced guiltily at his half-eaten Pop-Tart and tried to hide it behind his back.

“Sweetheart,” he said carefully, in the same voice he once used while disarming a nuclear device, “do you maybe want some... pickles and peanut butter again? Or the chocolate-covered beef jerky thing?”

You turned your gaze on him like an avenging angel with a maternity pillow. “No! That was last week, Bucky. I evolved. That was the larval stage of cravings. I don’t even know what this one is. All I know is I’m hungry and sad and mad and also maybe I could cry over a sock.”

“You did cry over a sock yesterday,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” He said quickly, holding up his hands like he was about to be mugged. “Okay! Right… hungry… not sure what for. Could be anything. Could be... grilled cheese? Watermelon? Honey on pizza?”

“Stop saying food names, it’s making it worse!”

Bucky paused, then asked sincerely. “Do you want me to stop or do you want me to list them alphabetically?”

You made a sound that could only be described as a frustrated grunt-squeal, dramatically flopped onto the couch. “I’m going to die hungry and hormonal and the baby will come out annoyed because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted!” You shouted.

Bucky was sweating now as the Pop-Tart was forgotten. He sprinted to your side like the flat was on fire. 

“Could have asked for some Pop-Tart…” 

“I hate Pot-Tart… they’re disgusting!” You cried.

“Babe… don’t cry… I’ll go to the store and buy one of everything. I’ll bring back sushi and ice cream and that weird cereal with marshmallows that tastes like regret.”

“I can’t eat raw fish, you idiot!” You snapped, eyes blazing.

He blinked. “Right… raw and dangerous… got it… what about the ice cream? You love that mocha caramel chunk-”

“Ice cream makes me fat, Bucky!” You wailed, hands flying up in distress.

He blinked again, rapidly. “Babe… you’re pregnant. You’re literally supposed to gain weight. That’s part of the-”

“Oh, thank you, Doctor Barnes,” you growled. “Did they teach that in assassin school too? Did they teach you how to ruin your hormonal wife’s last shred of self-esteem while she’s swollen like a balloon and can’t reach her own toes?”

Bucky’s mouth opened.

Then closed but immeditely opened again.

No sound.

Just silent.

“Marshmallows?” He squeaked, desperate now. “Maybe marshmallows? I could make cocoa?”

You recoiled like he’d suggested eating a handful of gravel. “Marshmallows? I could vomit just looking at them right now. Why would you say that? Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m not! I swear! I’m trying to save you!” He gasped. “Okay. No sushi and no ice cream and no marshmallows and… no joy apparently. Got it. That’s fine. I’ll go to the store. I’ll buy one of everything and we’ll sniff our way to an answer like food detectives.”

“You’d do that for me?” You sniffed, now on the verge of tears.

“I would storm a Hydra base for you, grocery is nothing.”

There was a pause.

“…Actually,” you said thoughtfully, “maybe I want… a pickle… dipped in whipped cream… wrapped in a pancake.”

Bucky blinked.

Then gave a single, solemn nod. “God help me, I’m going to make that happen.”

He kissed your forehead, stood up, and grabbed his car keys.

And as he headed for the door, you called after him. “Also maybe Funyuns! And a tub of cookie dough! And not the fucking off-brand kind this time, Barnes!”

“On it!” He shouted, already gone like a soldier on a mission.

You lay back, cradling your bump and grinning faintly. “I’m so hormonal… but I really married a good one.”

From the hallway, his muffled voice shouted back, “I heard that and I love you too, even if you make me cry once a week during snack hour!”

Damn super soldier senses, you thought.

Twenty-nine minutes later.

That’s how long Bucky had been gone. Not long, really.

Just enough for him to hit the local store, argue with a teenager over the last tub of name brand cookie dough and Google whether whipped cream counts as a dairy product or a “condiment”.

He was now juggling three overstuffed grocery bags, a wild-eyed expression and what looked like a pint of pickles wedged under one arm.

And when he finally kicked open the front door, all heroic and breathless, he was immediately hit with…

Sniffling?

Crying?

Whimpering?

“Y/N?” He called cautiously, kicking the door shut with his foot as he balanced the bags. “Sweetheart, I’m back! I brought, like… everything? Including that nightmare pancake idea? You said syrup optional… I got both. We can build the monstrosity together…”

The only reply was a soft, hiccupping sob from the couch.

Bucky dropped the bags like they were hot and darted over. “Hey… hey… hey what happened? Are you okay? Did the baby do a backflip again? Is it the indigestion thing? Oh my god, did I forget the non-dairy whipped cream?”

You sat curled up in a blanket burrito, red-eyed and nose running, clutching his hoodie to your face like it was a lifeline.

As soon as you saw him, your lip wobbled.

“I missed you,” you whispered in a teary voice that sounded like a Disney princess on the verge of collapse.

Bucky blinked. “I was gone for twenty-nine minutes.”

“It felt like a year,” you wailed, dramatically flopping onto your side. “And I was mean to you and I yelled and I said the Pop-Tart was disgusting and it wasn’t… it was fine… and I love you and I’m so sorry. I cried into your hoodie because it still smells like you!”

He gently perched on the edge of the couch, eyes soft. “You cried into my hoodie?” Bucky snorted and reached over to smooth your hair back, his touch gentle and warm. “I forgive you, doll… only because you’re very cute and very hormonal and carrying my future tiny assassin in there.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in his belly. “I was just so sad and I didn’t know why. And then you were gone and I thought… what if you got hit by a car because you were thinking about pancake pickles and now I’m a widow and still hungry?”

Bucky tried very hard not to laugh. “Well… I did almost get hit in the parking lot. But it was because I dropped the whipped cream and chased it into traffic.”

You looked up at him, appalled. “Bucky Barnes!”

“What? I thought it was the fancy kind! You don’t disrespect fancy whipped cream.”

You blinked at him for a moment… then burst into laughter through your tears. It was the sort of laugh that turned into more sobbing halfway through, but Bucky just held you tighter and let you do both all over his shirt.

Once you’d calmed down, and maybe blown your nose a little too aggressively into his sleeve, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Okay… here’s the plan. I’ll make you the pickle pancake horror food,”

“With whipped cream,” you murmured against his chest.

“Obviously. I am a man of taste.”

“...And a tub of cookie dough?”

“The real stuff, babe. I tackled a guy for it.”

You looked up with teary eyes. “You tackled someone for me?”

“I lightly bumped him with the cart.”

You clutched his face and kissed his cheek like he’d just saved the planet. “You’re my hero.”

“I try,” he said dramatically, pulling the blanket tighter around you both. “Now… are you going to help me cook the Frankenstein meal or just cry while I assemble it?”

“I’ll probably cry,” you admitted, already tearing up again. “But I’ll cheer you on.”

“Deal.”

And with that, James Buchanan Barnes shuffled into the kitchen like a very tired raccoon in love, muttering to himself about pancake ratios and whether or not syrup counted as a hate crime in this context.

You smiled softly, hands on your belly.

The baby was probably wondering why it felt like a reality show in there, but it was home.

And it was full of love.

And whipped cream.

And maybe, just maybe… a slightly too charred pickle pancake.

Ten minutes later.

The kitchen looked like a cooking show hosted by a sleep deprived raccoon and filmed during a windstorm.

Bucky stood at the stove, frowning at a frying pan like it had personally betrayed him. He was still in his jeans, now wearing a dish towel over his shoulder like a professional chef or a dad from a 90s sitcom who just burned dinner.

"Okay," he muttered to himself, flipping the pancake with the concentration of someone disarming a bomb. “One warm and golden pancake.”

He glanced at the counter, where a line-up of very questionable ingredients waited.

Pickles? Check.

Whipped cream? Check.

Syrup? Optional, but included for the brave.

You? Sitting at the kitchen island with a pillow under your bump, watching him like he was cooking the final meal before his execution.

“I just want to say,” Bucky said slowly, “…this is an act of love. If I die tonight, tell Steve I went out honorably.”

You sniffed, hand on your belly. “If this goes wrong, I’m blaming you. I never should’ve said the word pancake. That’s where it all started.”

He gently placed the pancake on a plate and added a generous squirt of whipped cream then, holding his breath,rested on it a big and sour pickle. Then, like a final insult to logic, he drizzled maple syrup across the top.

You blinked. “Bucky. That looks like a war crime.”

“I know.” He turned, holding the plate solemnly like it was a cursed artifact. “I’m going to eat it with you.”

Your eyes widened. “You don’t have to-”

“No, I do.” He sliced the monstrosity in half, handed you the less-drenched side, and picked up a fork like it was a weapon.

You both stared at the halves.

Silence.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“Me too,” he whispered back.

Together, in synchronized doom, you each took a bite.

You chewed.

He chewed.

You blinked.

He blinked.

The baby did a single slow kick as if to say “what fresh hell is this?”

“…So?” Bucky asked, eyes glassy.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had.” You admitted, mouth full. “It’s kinda… weirdly satisfying?”

Bucky looked like he’d seen another plane of existence. “I think my tongue just had a panic attack.”

You smiled softly and took another bite. “It’s crunchy and sweet and gross but like… fine?.”

“Like me,” Bucky said with a proud shrug.

You swallowed, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re the best husband ever… forced to eat cursed food.”

He wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. “I take that as the highest compliment.”

Despite the messy pancake and the impending digestive regret, the two of you sat there sharing abominable bites holding hands across the table and laughing every time he gagged a little but kept eating anyway.

When you’re in love, sometimes the most romantic thing someone can do is eat a whipped cream wrapped pickle pancake without blinking.

And maybe go back for seconds.

Maybe.

“It’s a trap!” Tony yelled the moment he saw the man standing in front of him. “Everybody out now.” He screamed through his comms.

He lifted his arm, pointing his hand toward the man. He shoot him with his blaster. The man fell down in a second as Tony raised himself in the air with the armour.

Too damn easy, he thought.

He heard some noise, people fighting and guns shooting.

He first saw Natasha, coming out from a metal door. Her face dirty and blood all over it. She gave him a look that said “it’s not mine”.

After some minutes, Sam with Steve and Y/N reappeared.

“Where’s Bucky?” Y/N asked immediately.

“Wasn’t he with you guys?” Tony replied, pointing at Captain America and Falcon.

They both shook their head.

Panic began to flow in her face when even Natasha didn’t know where Bucky was.

The billionaire flew down, feet on the ground, looking at Y/N.

He had always seen her as a daughter and knowing Bucky was her first official and real relationship, he panicked too but trying to keep his facade just for her.

“Okay kid, don’t worry…” he said calmly. “He’s somewhere here.”

“Where Tony? I don’t see him here!” Y/N yelled back. “I’m sorry…” she whispered almost immediately. “It’s not your fault Tony…”

Tony moved closer and engulfed her in a metal hug.

Around them Steve, Sam and Nat began to think.

Bucky was of course with them on the jet, precisely near Y/N with his arm on her shoulder, keeping her close. It was their own ritual before any mission. They sat together, his arm protecting her for absolutely no reason and her giving him little kisses on his cheek.

He was with then on the ground where they landed looking for the threat but then nowhere to be found after that.

“We should split,” Tony suggested. “I’m going north flying over the facility,” he pointed his finger toward the sky. “Nat will take the south sector,” he looked toward Nat, who nodded. “Steve and Sam you’re gonna be with Y/N. She has to download all the files and you’re gonna cover her.”

Both men nodded looking at Tony.

“Barnes,” he turned toward Bucky. “You knew this place?”

Bucky nodded looking down.

“Check the perimeter.”

He nodded again.

“Let’s do this.” Tony said clapping his hand flying high in the sky.

Nat slid out of sight like a cat, Sam and Steve patiently wait for Bucky to kiss Y/N.

They both smile seeing their friend so in love.

“Doll, be careful.”

“You too soldier.”

“Tony,” Y/N began to sob.

“No no no,” he rested his hand on her shoulder. “We’re not doing this.”

“But-“

“I said no. He’s here and we’re gonna find him and have a party all together at the tower.” He said, catching a tear on her face.

Minutes passed and panic began to build in all of the Avengers.

They all rose their head when they heard some noise. Heavy footsteps were approaching. They all stood up in a second.

Tony rose himself in the air. Steve lifted his shield. Sam and Nat swinged their fists in the air. Y/N’s hands immediately on the gun.

“Wait,” she yelled happily. “It’s Bucky! I saw his metal arm-“ words got stuck in your throat as pain was the only thing you felt.

Falling on the ground, she grabbed her shoulder and saw blood all over her hand.

Bucky shot her.

“That’s not Bucky,” Steve yelled.

“That’s the fucking Winter Soldier.” Tony shouted.

They all put themselves between her body on the ground and Bucky.

He kept walking toward her. His eyes never leaving her figure.

She tried to stand but the bullet inside her arm stung so bad.

Natasha threw herself on Bucky, trying to climb onto him but failed. Steve hit him with his shield, but the metal arm was stronger. Sam tried to fly up in the air but Bucky’s hand grabbed him by his ankle throwing him on the ground.

Tony was the only one still standing. He threw a look over Y/N’s body and then at the very angry Winter Soldier in front of him.

He blasted him, right in the middle of his chest.

Bucky barely moved.

“Damn it,” he whispered shout. “He’s stronger now!”

In a rush of adrenaline, Tony flew higher in the sky. Pointing his arm toward Bucky, he shot him a tranquilliser in his neck from his arm.

Bucky felt on his knees, gripping the gun and then facing down on the soil.

“Bucky!” Y/N yelled still fighting with the pain.

“Stay away!” Steve said, once he saw Y/N moving. “He’s not Bucky.”

“He is to me,” Y/N said crashing onto Steve.

Captain America looked down at her. Her tiny and defeated body against his muscular one.

He hated seeing her like this and hated more seeing his best friend lying down unconscious on the ground. “He’s gonna be alright… but we need to take him back to the tower. Alright?”

Y/N nodded sobbing.

At the tower, Steve and Sam brought Bucky’s still unconscious body in a cell.

“I hate doing this pal,” Steve whispered to his best friend. “But it’s for the best…”

“He’s gonna be okay, cap.” Sam promised.

Into another floor, Y/N began to fight everyone.

Nat tried to hold her down, something usually easy for her but her needs to be with Bucky was stronger.

“Y/N damn it! You need to calm down.”

“I NEED TO SEE HIM. WHERE IS HE?”

“Kid-“ Tony tried to explain. He held the rubbing alcohol and cloth in his hand, trying to calm her. “I need to wash and disinfect your shoulder.”

“SHUT UP! I WANNA SEE HIM.”

Y/N really fought hard, maybe too hard. Her shoulder began to shake and stung. Her yelling was heard even outside.

“Y/N,” Steve yelled entering. “HE’S LOCKED IN A CELL, SLEEPING. ONCE YOU’RE OKAY I’LL LET YOU SEE HIM. NOW SHUT UP AND LET US HELP YOU.” Steve’s tone made her cry but she laid on the table. “Thank you.” He said kindly.

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Is he okay?”

No one spoke.

“Cap?” She asked again, opening her eyes.

She saw tears stains on Steve’s face.

“I don’t know… he was him again…”

Once Tony finished extracting the bullet and disinfecting the shoulder, he took a laser he created. After he finished, Y/N stood up.

“I’m gonna see him.” She didn’t asked, she told them.

“I don’t think-“ Tony began to argue.

She had already left the room.

In the lift, going down to the cell floor, she began to fiddle with her bracelet. It was a slim silver chain, with a small “B” as pendant.

Once the door opened, she remained in the elevator for a second staring the metal door. She took a deep breath and got in.

Concrete floor and wall, some dark cell except for the last one. She walked toward the occupied one.

She saw Bucky, her Bucky, lying on the floor. His chest moved up and down calmly. As he perceived her presence, he jolted up. He stared at her. His big blue sparkly eyes gone.

He stood there, she stood outside with just a glass dividing them.

Steve was right, that wasn’t Bucky. That was the Winter Soldier.

“Buck-“ she began talking, resting her hand on the glass in a mere way of letting him know she was there. She let him see the pendant on her wrist.

Bucky glared at her, she saw his lips twitching. She thought he was about to rest his palm on the glass too, but she was wrong.

Bucky began punching the glass with his metal hand.

Heavy punches on the glass made it trembling.

For the first time, she was scared of him. She rationally knew that wasn’t his Bucky, but she also knew that in that moment Bucky was hide in that mix of anger.

“Bucky please stop,” she cried, sliding away from the glass. “Bucky it’s me. I’m your girlfriend. It’s Y/N… your Y/N…”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He grunted keeping punching the glass.

His smile, one of the things she loved most about him, made her blood boil. It was angry and evil and scaring.

He glared at her while she tried to talk to him.

“Bucky please stop… you have to fight it…”

He didn’t stop.

Panic really started when she noticed a crack in the glass. She lost balance trying to escape.

Her shoulder began to sting again but it was nothing like the panic when she heard the glass breaking.

Bucky’s fists were able to break the glass.

She was now alone.

Alone with the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s breath was hitched and frantic. His eyes darker than ever. His fist closed, ready to fight. It was almost as he didn’t see her lying there, near his feet.

The bandage Tony applied on her arm, blocked her movements.

She spent the first months of relationship trying to calm Bucky when the Winter Soldier topic came out, but now she was alone with the most dangerous assassin on the planet.

She stood up and stared at him.

“Bucky you know me,” she pleaded.

“You’re my enemy.”

His words made you angry.

As he launched toward her in front of her, she slid on the other side. She hated how well she knew what he was going to do. He explained it to her one night, in their bed.

“I don’t always remember… but they always told me to move directly in front of my victim…”

In that moment she was his victim.

She knew damn well she wasn’t able to fight him alone because he was already stronger than her and, seeing how he easily broke the glass, she thought he was under some other type of serum.

He moved like a shadow, she tried to do the same. Moving with an arm attached to her body was impossible. She was a trained Avenger but he was the love of her life and that made her weak.

He grabbed her and pushed her down on the floor straddling her waist, then he lifted his flesh arm closing his fist. She rolled over just in time, but her legs were still under him. He caged her better and moved her upper body, sliding it on the ground. Her shoulder really hurt and some tears escaped from her eyes.

“You fucking know me Bucky!” She yelled. “Fucking fight it!”

“I don’t know shit.”

In a rush of fortune, she punched his chin. He rolled his eyes but he didn’t move remaining on her body, crushing her.

She lifted his knees kicking him in his crotch. He bent down a little, the tip of his nose touching hers. She felt his weight on her. He groaned as he stood with his upper body again.

Anger and tired of fighting, she caught a glimpse she didn’t like in his eyes. He moved his metal arm like it’s weighted nothing and crushed it on her neck. She felt her breath leaving her body.

His hand pressed more and her face began to shake.

“Buc-“

“Shut up!”

He pressed his thighs more on her, caging her on the floor. His flesh hand kept her arm up on her head while his metal one held her neck. She felt the air leaving her body as the time goes by.

“Y/N!”

Steve’s voice echoed in the room.

Bucky, visibly annoyed by Steve’s voice, removed his hand from her neck and stood up, ready to fight. A shot of air in her throat, breathing now properly. She remained on the floor, as the breath progressively came back.

Steve, followed by Sam and Nat and Tony, immediately launched themself on Bucky.

Nat hit him with an electric shock before kicking him in the shin. Bucky knelt on the floor while Steve and Sam fought to keep him still. Tony, running toward him, attached in his arm a little metal coin. After pushing some buttons in his tablet, Bucky was pulled down again on the floor.

“This disabled his arm… but it’s not permanently,” he looked at her still on the floor, now sitting. She nodded toward Tony.

“Thanks.” He said before completely detaching his arm from his body.

Bucky’s eyes opened shocked.

In those few seconds of calm, Tony shoot him again with another tranquilliser, a tougher one.

The Winter Soldier felt on the floor.

“Let’s leave him here,” Tony said. “He can’t escape the metal door.” He added, pointing at the door.

Everyone gathered around Y/N. She stood, touching her neck feeling Bucky’s hand still on her skin.

“Y/N,” Sam started.

She remained silent, watching Bucky lying on the floor unconscious.

She spent the remaining day in her room, as she didn’t want to get back in her and Bucky’s room.

A knock on her door, around eleven o’clock woke her from his thinking.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Steve said entering.

“If he’s awake… I don’t want to see him Steve.”

Bucky was indeed awake.

He woke up on the floor, without his left arm. His head banging and his muscles completely sore. A fog in his mind except for one thing.

The absolute horror in her eyes.

The horror he caused.

He knelt on the floor, heavy breath and tears free on his face. He took a look around himself noticing all the cells. His eyes locked on a cell without the glass. Thousand of shattered glass around him, cracking under his knees.

He didn’t remember precisely what he did but he remembered who he attacked.

He heard a bip in the silence of the cells room.

After a couple of minutes the massive metal door opened and Tony, followed by Steve, appeared in front of him.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asked.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah…” he looked down replying to his best friend. “What did I do?”

“What you fear the most… he attacked Y/N…”

Steve proceeded to explain everything the Winter Soldier did. He refused to say “you did that” choosing to say “he did that”.

“Pal,” Bucky whispered standing up, shaking from the last traces of the tranquilliser. “I did those things… you don’t need to sugar coating…”

“Right,” Steve said. “We found you getting toward us after the mission but…”

“But it wasn’t me… it was him.”

Tony circled him, he was angry but now with Bucky or at least not fully with Bucky.

He saw how he was avoiding his eyes. Bucky had always knew how much Y/N meant to Tony.

“Stop this bullshit, Barnes,” Tony said as he checked Bucky’s head. “It wasn’t your fault. So you can fucking look me in the eyes.”

“I attacked her… I can’t look at anyone right now… I don’t deserve any of your help.”

Steve finished telling her what Bucky told them in the cell room.

“I know if you don’t want to see him but you shouldn’t give up on him…”

“Do you think I’m giving up on him?” She yelled. “Do you think I’m giving up on bringing back the old Bucky? My boyfriend? The man I love?”

“You didn’t want to see him…”

She stood from her bed but immediately sat back. With her head in her hands, she began crying. “I’m scared Steve…scared for him,” she took a deep breath. “I know what he can do and… I know for a fact that Bucky would never forgive himself…”

Steve’s eyes changed immediately. In that moment he knew for sure she was the right woman for Bucky. She insisted of seeing him right after he shot her, she was with him in the cell and now she was worried about Bucky’s safety first before hers.

“Y/N,” Steve sat in the bed. “I’ve know Bucky since we were kids and I know Bucky suffered a lot but you… you are the only one who handle him… hell I don’t even know if I can’t handle him the way you did,” he stopped and a tear fell from his eye. “He needs you and you need him. I know you’re scared for him and I know he’ll try to avoid you but please… keep him safe.”

She hugged him tightly, crying on his shoulder.

“I wanna see him.”

They both got down to the med floor.

Bucky rested on the bed, an IV in his flesh arm to rehydrate him. Just outside his room Tony, with Sam and Nat, all turned hearing the elevator’s door opening.

Y/N and Steve, visibly still shocked, appeared.

“Is he okay?” She asked Tony.

“He is. Some fluids and his body already washed out the serum.” Tony looked at Y/N’s neck. She covered it with her hand. “You were right, Cap. He had a newer version of the serum through his veins.”

Y/N stared at the door separating them from Bucky. “Can you all leave please? I wanna be with Bucky alone.”

Everyone nodded.

Once she was alone in the corridor, she grabbed the knob and turned it.

The door opened and she entered in the room. First thing she saw was her boyfriend in the bed. He made Tony lowered the curtain, so the room was in a dim light. Once she got near him, he turned quickly his head. She looked down and saw something that made her cry.

Bucky didn’t have his left arm attached to his body. A quick scan in the room and she noticed it on the ground, near the bed.

“Bucky,”

“Don’t… I don’t want that thing ever again.” He said looking at the window.

“Look at me, Buck.” She pleaded him.

“Don’t do this to me. I can’t even imagine what you felt down there… why are you here?”

“Because my boyfriend is here,” she moved toward the bed. “Look at me…please…”

Bucky turned his head. His eyes red and puffy, his lower lips bleeding and his face pale. His eyes back at their colour, but it wasn’t the usually sparky nuance. It was a sad tone of blue, reflecting what he was feeling. His look immediately changed when he saw the handprint, his handprint, on her skin.

“I did that…”

“No you didn’t. He did it, not you.”

“Damn it Y/N… it’s the same thing…”

Bucky’s voice was low, a whisper barely coming out of his mouth. He sat on the bed, removing his IV from his arm.

“What are you doing?” She exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder as he sat too quickly. “Your body needs rest. Stay there.”

“I need to go far away from here,”

“From me? That’s what you meant? Away from me?” She said, pointing his feet on the ground in front of him.

He sat on the edge of the bed. His shirt off, showing bruises and cut. He still didn’t fully looked at her in her eyes, he couldn’t.

He tried to stand and fell on the ground.

She moved quickly to grab him by his flesh arm.

“Don’t touch me.” He yelled crying as human representation of a caged animals.

Bucky felt in a kinda of way like a caged animal.

He spent 70 years locked and used as a weapon, and now he felt like a weapon again seeing the mark on her skin.

She slid away of him, just a bit only to give him some space.

He remained on the floor, crying and sobbing.

“It’s pathetic I know,” he cried.

“It’s not Buck, please let me help you.”

She reached for his flesh arm, he let her do it. Pushing on his feet, he stood and sat back on the bed.

He looked down. She moved toward him and guided his head toward her chest. He rested his forehead on her skin.

She lifted her arm, circling his neck and playing with some locks on his head. Kissing his head, he let out a long and deep breath.

“How could you still want me?” He asked in a whisper.

“Because I love you Bucky Barnes. That’s why.”

That was the first time she said those three words to him. He took a deep breath and began to tremble.

“I love you so much doll. It consumes me and made me happy… so much happy,” he began to hiccup. “I want to be with you but… I don’t know if I can be with you after what I did…”

“You did nothing wrong,” she held his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. It was the first time he looked at her, really looked. Her eyes were red and puffy like his. Her lower lips trembled a little. She was beautiful.

“That man,” she kissed his lips loving and tenderly. “He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t the man I love. He was the beast someone created.”

She kissed him more, he crumbled against her. “My boyfriend is the sweetest and kindest man on the planet. He’s brave and honest and gentle. He’s always putting everyone else’s needs in front of his own. He’s treating me like the most important person in the world,”

“It’s because you are…” he delicately interrupted her.

“He looks at me like I hung the moon and stars. He knows me better than anyone else and I know for sure he’d be fighting with his own life for me. That’s my boyfriend and I love him.”

Bucky now was actually crying. Y/N felt her shirt getting wet but she held him there, on her chest letting him hear her heartbeat.

“Stay there,” she kissed him another time.

She circled the bed, getting the arm thrown on the floor.

“Doll,”

“Shut up Buck.”

He snorted for a second.

Once she was again in front of him, she lifted the heavy arm and attached it back on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Now you’re complete.” She said as she pulled both of his arm around her waist.

“Tell me everything I,” he looked at her and she crocked her eyebrow. “Tell me everything he did…”

“He shot me after the mission and you already know what he did in the cell.”

“Can I see?”

She nodded.

Detaching herself from him arms, she lifted her shirt remaining with only her bra. On her shoulder there was a patch. She removed it and noticed that the skin was already healing due to a special surgical laser Tony used on you.

He moved closer, with his arm on her back, pulling her against him. He kissed the skin once then another time and again. She rested her chin on his head while he kept kissing her shoulder. His lips moved upward, on her neck. He traced first the handprint and then nipped gently against her.

“Buck,”

“Please I need it.”

“Okay.”

He kept kissing her skin, like his kisses could heal her faster and in a weird way they did.

His hands grabbed her by her thighs, lifting and pulling her on his lap. He groaned a little and she got worried.

“Buck probably it’s not the best time…”

“It’s always the best time if it’s with you on my lap.”

They stayed there, crushing against each other. His skin against his and their heartbeat beating together.

“I love you so much doll,”

“I love you too, Buck. Always and forever. I trust you.”

He cried more on her chest and she let him do it.

She never looked him differently.

He was her world and she kept protecting him from everyone.

Even from himself.

You had scrolled through the backed-up list of numbers in your phone, most not even named and countless stale conversations having died after a horrendous first date. You never actually expected to receive a text back from any of them - so, when your phone finally buzzed against the stained wood of the coffee table, a fistful of popcorn halfway to your mouth, you froze.

The fluffy, white kernels slowly fell back in the bowl as you set it aside and you leaned forward to grab your phone. Your hand was shaking, and your heart was pounding. Who in the hell was crazy enough to text you back?

Someone horny enough, you supposed.

You sighed, opening your texts and staring at the grey bubble longer than you needed to, the white letters slurring together from the excess of alcohol.

Everything okay?

You laughed - like, actually laughed aloud. The sound, sharp and sudden, echoed off your living room walls. Why the fuck did this man care if everything was okay? You were looking for a hookup, not therapy. You texted back, autocorrect doing the heavy lifting for you.

I just asked if you wanted to come over. Could use the company.

It marked ‘read’ instantly and your heart stopped for just a second. And then he was typing…For a long damn time. Finally, a little ‘whoosh’ came across as his response popped into the chat.

Why don’t I, instead, take you to dinner while Becca is at volleyball practice?

You blinked. Your brain was running on booze and a crippling fear of meeting God. You had to reread it a few times. Becca…Becca…Becca…What the hell did your best friend have to- Oh. Oh no. No, no, and hell no. You panicked, instantly sobering up at least halfway. Your fingers were quick to type.

Oh! Wrong number, sorry!

Okay. Deep breaths. Maybe that would work. Ping. Or not.

What’s going on, doll? You and Becca not friends anymore? She was just talking about you the other day and finals…

Oh god. Yeah. No way to ‘wrong number’ this one. Okay, no problem. Just another deep fucking breath…Ping.

I insist. Dinner. I’ll pick you up. You still live just off campus? Birch and 44th?

You let out the bundle of oxygen you’d been hoarding in your lungs. You had just wanted a good time and now your best friend’s dad was offering to take you out. On what? A date? How old was he again?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard so long your screen shut off. You looked at yourself in the dark reflection of the glass - hair messy, cheeks tear-stained, eyes puffy and dark. Fuck. Maybe you did just need to get out of the house for a little while.

You tapped your screen back awake.

Yeah, that’s still the address. What time?

Your finger was shaking as you hit ‘send’.

He started to type.

Be ready by 6 P.M. Make yourself feel pretty :)

Your heart fluttered a little. Oh. He wanted you to make yourself look pretty. Well…Alright then! You had quite a lot of work to do so you switched off the TV and headed straight for your bedroom. It was time to put yourself first and have a hell of a time doing it.

6 P.M. rolls around. A steady knock on the door.

You were just securing your final diamond earring and slipping on your last heel. You felt very…Nice. Cocktail dress, stockings, heels, and the only diamond set you owned. Makeup and hair done to the nines with a spritz of your favorite perfume. As you grabbed your clutch, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a little too much.

You opened the door, eyes widening a little as Becca’s father, Bucky, stood there just outside the doorway looking mighty damn fine. Gray slacks, white dress shirt unbuttoned in a casual yet polished manner. Gray sport jacket slung over his shoulder and that beautiful salt-and-pepper hair brushed back. You’d never really given him much of a second thought before - I mean, how could you? He was your best friend’s dad, and you and Becca had been friends since senior year of high school.

But, you just couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on every part of him - his strong facial features, stunning blue eyes, and the way his stubble danced along his chiseled jaw. Then there was the way his dress shirt clung to his chest and arms in a way that should have been a sin - tight in all the right places to show off the work he’d always put into his body since his Army days. It felt a little aggressive to say, but you wanted to chew on this man.

“Hi there, doll,” he said, voice sweet and low with something you’d never heard before. Something akin to the floral sweetness of honey dripping across cragged gravel.

You tried not to melt right then and there as he held out his hand to take yours. “Are you ready or do you need a minute?” He smiled and you felt your world tilt and your stomach churn. No one had the right to be that attractive. No one had the right to look this good and smile at you like that.

“O-Oh I…I’m ready,” you said, clearing your throat a little before giving him a polite smile and daintily placing your hand in his. His palm was practically twice the size of yours and you had to really put effort into not thinking about how good they’d feel inside you right about now…

The thing about Bucky, which had always been the thing about Bucky, was that he was a proper gentleman through and through. You often thought about how Becca ended up with much better men than you did - and it was probably because she was raised by such an exemplary man to begin with. He was the ultimate blueprint.

He walked you to his car, never a pace ahead nor a hair behind until he took a few strides in front of you to open the passenger side door for you. Your dress was a little on the short side, so as you dipped into his car, he used his sport jacket to shield you from prying eyes - he even looked away himself. How chivalrous!

The ride to the restaurant, itself, was great. A little awkward considering how the situation had manifested, but he was skilled at moving the small-talk along and making you feel like the center of attention. You discussed the weather, finals, and after-college plans with the ease of someone who’d done it a million times over with someone his age. It was the typical experience, just with far less lecturing and more mutual understanding than you’d come to expect.

Once you were pulled up to the valet, it wasn’t the valet worker who opened your door for you. No, it was Bucky shielding you again with that damn sport coat until you’d adjusted yourself and grabbed your clutch off the seat. You wobbled a little in your heels against the uneven cobblestone ground and his hand left the car door to catch your waist.

Your breath hitched, his touch so gentle and warm. Your gaze immediately flitted up to his face where he smiled in amusement. “Careful there, doll. Ground’s got teeth,” he murmured, making sure you were steady before he closed the car door and then slipped his sport coat on before offering you his arm. Of course, you obliged.

He lead you to up the little stone pathway to the restaurant door - the inside was dimly lit but you found yourself met with opulence beyond anything you’d experienced before. Crystal chandeliers gleaming and twinkling against candlelight that buzzed from the white clothed tables. You swallowed thickly. This place was expensive and you weren’t so sure you were worthy of it.

“Table for two, should be reserved under James Barnes,” you heard him say to the hostess at the stand.

“Says here you’d prefer the balcony view. Is that still correct?” the hostess inquired.

Your brows furrowed a little as you looked up at him. That sounded…Pricey. Exclusive. “Bucky…” you started to protest.

In the most polite way possible, he shushed you and spoke instead to the hostess. “Yes, please. Should you have anything available.” He gave you a sideways glance, one that silently read as ‘shut up and watch’. Watch what?

The hostess lead the two of you to a semi-private table on a balcony overlooking the city. It looked beautiful from this far away - so quiet and so peaceful. The air was crisp, but not at all too cold and the fireplace lit beside the table added a nice bit of coziness.

Bucky pulled your chair out and you took a seat after only a moment of hesitation. You weren’t used to this kind of treatment and couldn’t recall the last time a man ever gave this much of a shit about chivalry. He pushed you in close to the table and then seated himself politely across from you. That was just the thing wasn’t it? He was so polite.

The hostess left you two the wine menu and the prix-fixe menu detailing the night’s exclusive offerings before disappearing back inside the main restaurant. Outside, it was just you, Bucky, and one other couple seated several feet away. For the most part it was…Quiet. Peaceful. All except for the incessant pounding of your heart.

You picked up the wine menu, still trembling. He cocked an eyebrow as he glanced up at you over the top of his menu. “Why don’t you order a bottle, sweetheart? Seems like your nerves could use it.”

Your eyes flicked up from the tiny booklet, cheeks turning scarlet. “I’m not nervous,” you defended.

“Mmm…” he hummed, blue eyes focusing back on the menu. He was reading it for far too long for something so short. It seemed maybe he was nervous too.

“Mmm what?” you asked, setting the wine menu down and then mirroring his prior expression - cocked brow and a sharp gaze.

He didn’t look back up at you as he answered. “You’re awfully shaky. It’s like you’ve never had a real man take you on a proper date.”

You scoffed. “I’ve been on plenty of proper dates.”

He chuckled. “Doll, Olive Garden doesn’t count and neither does splitting the check.”

Your cheeks continued to bloom red. “In my defense, I’m a broke college student. We all are.” You bit your bottom lip as your eyes flicked down towards the prix-fixe menu.

Bucky finally set his own menu aside and leaned forward, his large, warm palms finding your forearms and resting there. You looked up. His gaze was almost too much and not enough in the same breath. “And that’s why we’re here tonight,” he said, voice low again in that tone that sent heat pooling straight between your thighs. Shamefully.

“So that I can show you how a real man treats a lady.”

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking down towards his hands and the only thing you could think of was how he could easily hold both your wrists above your head with no issue. Back pressed to the wall. His lips on yours. Fuck, where was your goddamn mind at?

He smirked. “Doll, where’s your head at?” Like you were an open book and he was reading it faster than you could write it.

You about choked. You cleared your throat. “Nothin’ just…You’re right. You’re right, I’ve never been on a proper date,” you mumbled, still avoiding contact with those beautiful blues that had you feeling like you were losing your mind - which, in your defense, you sort of were.

To your relief, your waitress for the night appeared to take your drink orders. For him, it was a glass of scotch. For you, it was a bottle of rosé because he’d insisted. She ran you two quickly through the courses on the menu before whisking away to work on the drink orders. And then there was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you. Him staring at you and you fidgeting with the bottom hem of your cocktail dress like if you rubbed the ruby fabric enough times it would send you home.

“You’re staring,” you muttered, deciding it was time to say something. Anything.

He laughed. “People tell me I’ve got a problem with it,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. You could feel his gaze boring into you. It was like you could sense he was on the verge of saying something but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.

Hell, was any of this appropriate at all? Probably not. The age gap screamed very much not. But, part of you really wanted this. The older man. The experience. Someone who knew what the fuck they were doing.

“So, why are you trying to hook up with your best friend’s father?” His voice cut through your thoughts - the dreaded question that you’d been waiting for him to ask.

You blinked. “I’m sorry?” You tried to play dumb.

He smirked again. A slight tug at the corner of his lips but it was there. “You heard me, doll,” he said, voice dripping sinful honey that had your tongue feeling too big for your mouth and your thoughts racing beyond a speed you could comprehend.

“I…I…I didn’t…I didn’t know it was you,” you choked out.

Bucky’s expression turned puzzled. “You didn’t know it was me?” He almost sounded offended. Well, at least the night had gone halfway perfect.

You sighed. “I was just…I was buzzed. Okay, maybe a little drunk…”

“Uh huh…”

“And I…Well…I just texted a bunch of numbers hoping someone would answer…”

He hummed, expression still puzzled like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your confession. His voice was…Concerned, though. As he spoke again, “Why are you drunk at ten in the damn morning and texting men who you don’t even know who they are?”

And then it all came crumbling down and the only thing left to do was pray your mascara was going to hold on tight. “Brad…I…I caught Brad cheating on me last week…” you said quietly, your eyes beginning to water. You fanned yourself with the menu, hoping you could hold it together and not seem like an absolute mess.

Bucky’s expression softened. All he could do was reach out across the table, palms up and inviting your own to meet his. Slowly, you set the menu down and placed your palms in his. Once again, his hands were twice the size of yours, practically swallowing them whole as he held them firm and gentle.

You sniffled, a tear falling down one cheek and then the other. Oh great. The waterworks. How lovely. But…He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he pulled one hand away, grabbed the linen napkin from across his lap, and brought it up to gently dab the tears away.

“Doll…” he started slowly, softly. “That doesn’t mean you go searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and texting men who aren’t any better for you than him…”

As if on cue, the waitress brings back your bottle of wine in a bucket filled with ice. She places a glass on the table, thin and dainty and made for sparkling wines. She popped open the bottle and poured your first glass to a perfect height. “Enjoy. The first course will come out shortly,” she said, leaving Bucky’s scotch at the end of the table before whisking off again.

Once she was gone, you blinked. “But…But you’re better than him.”

He laughed as he swirled the scotch around in the beveled crystal - amused. “Oh, I know I am. But what if one of those other boys had responded, hmm? Where would you be at now?”

You sighed. Not at a fancy dinner, that’s for sure. Probably getting drunk in your apartment and letting Jake from Hinge hit it from the back. And this was far better than that.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, voice breaking through your loud, mess of a mind. “Now, let me show you how a real man should treat you, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt like this, doll. You’re too good for that.”

And so, you sat across from him and let Becca’s dad, Bucky Barnes, show you how wining and dining really worked. You let him lead the pleasant conversation. He complimented you tastefully, reaching across the table to brush a hand across your cheek but not daring to move an inch lower. His gaze was respectable, kind. The warmth of the rosé was flowing through your veins and while you tried to flirt with him, he was always so polite. So reserved.

When it came time for dessert, a stunning display of comforting bananas foster, you two had decided to share the course. His spoon would clink against yours occasionally, a red flush covering your cheeks and your heart doing somersaults like a high school girl on a first date.

You hadn’t even noticed, but some of the caramel sauce that had come atop the ice cream was dribbling down your chin after a misguided, wine-drunk bite. He was quick to the rescue before it soiled your ruby dress.

He carefully leaned across the table, napkin outstretched in his hand as he very gingerly wiped the caramel from the corner of your mouth with a gentle smile upon his lips. “Careful there. Wouldn’t want you ruining that pretty little dress.” You felt like you could swoon, like your eyes would turn to hearts at any given second.

Bucky hovered there for a moment, over the table, hand outstretched and his face just close enough to smell the warm scotch and the sweet caramel on his breath. Your eyes flicked down to his lips and then back up to those piercing blue eyes that you swore would be the death of you.

You watched as his eyes mirrored yours now, flicking down once and then up almost too quick to catch. But then he was retreating, sitting back in his chair and quickly throwing up his hand as the waitress passed by. “Check please, ma’am?”

Bucky drove you home. He made sure to shield you again from prying eyes, although you caught it this time when he glanced down once to see the curve of your ass peek out from beneath your dress as you lowered yourself into his car.

He walked you up to the door, taking you by one hand and leading your waist with the other as you were very clearly drunk. Once you got to the door, you fumbled in your clutch for your keys, fingers trembling and causing you to drop them onto the welcome mat.

You moved to stoop down, but he stopped you with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, if you bend down right now, I’m not gettin’ ya back up off that concrete.” Yeah, he probably had a point there.

He bent down and grabbed the key - and, as he stood, his shoulder brushed against your arm and your breath hitched. Bucky’s eyes met yours, inches away from your face, and he took the key and pressed into your palm with a close-lipped smile. “Careful, doll.”

You felt like a deer caught in headlights for a good fifteen seconds, although those seconds felt like years. You blinked and then turned your attention back to the lock.

The world was spinning as you lined the key up and pushed it in, turning it over with a thump that nearly echoed the frantic pulse of your heart in your ears. You pushed the door open and he stuck one foot in to follow before you turned around, shocked.

He tilted his head. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just makin’ sure you make it past the threshold. Honest,” he said with a light chuckle.

And you let him. You let Bucky Barnes walk you to your couch and sit you down. You watched as he kneeled in front of you and very carefully guided your heels off your blistered feet - in your defense, you didn’t wear heels often.

Bucky fluffed up one of your decorative pillows that had seen better days, and then gently helped you lay down. The ceiling was swirling around and around, and in the same breath it felt like your body was on a boat rocking back and forth. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling ten seconds away from turning green.

The next thing you felt was the weight of his sport coat as he laid it across you, a makeshift blanket to ensure you didn’t go cold - or, a cruel souvenir for you to remember him by. For you to stare at every day from now on and think about his face. The way he bit his lip if he stared you up and down for a moment too long. The way you could feel his lips linger, dying to leave a kiss on your cheek, but then retreating cowardly.

“I gotta leave, doll,” you hear him say through the fog. “Next time, call me.”

And the click of the door closing behind him was the very last thing you heard before you blacked out.

The grey morning light is what woke you, streaming in through the sliding glass door all cheery and bright as if you weren’t currently crawling your way out of rock bottom. You groaned, the weight of his sport coat still on your body. The scent of him lingered there on the woven fabric. Sharp, woodsy, masculine. Driftwood and gunmetal.

You slowly sat up, bringing the collar of the coat to your face and inhaling deeply. Had you not had this tangible piece of evidence, you would have thought the prior night was nothing more than a drunken dream fueled by a bottle of Malibu.

You saw your clutch placed on the coffee table and you opened it, pulling your phone out. No new texts. You sighed.

You moved to start the routine you’d gotten in the habit of the over the last week. Tylenol, number one. Shower, second. Booze, third. Except, as your head pounded and your stomach growled with the craving of something other than liquor, you could hear Bucky’s voice in the back of your head. The one telling you not to drown your feelings in a bottle. The one telling you to call him.

So, you put the bottle of vodka down and picked up your phone instead. You tapped on his contact, which you made sure to actually label that morning, and called him. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you waited for him to pick up…

No answer.

You huffed and threw your phone down onto the table. Not like you expected an answer anyway. Just then, you heard a knock at the front door. Brows furrowed in confusion, you quietly padded over and peeked through the peep hole. All you saw was a rather stout man holding what had to be an entire bush of bright red roses.

You opened the door and the man set the bunch of roses down on the ground. They were in their own little golden vase, fanned out and pretty for display. “Got a delivery here from a Mr. Barnes,” the man said with a smile, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an envelope. “Enjoy your morning, miss.”

You ran your fingertips across the heavy weight of the cardstock envelope, a gold wax seal holding closed all its secrets. You hauled the roses inside before sitting at your kitchen table and fumbling with the envelope as your fingers trembled.

You slipped out a short letter, hand-written with a good pen, paper, and ink. Thoughtful.

Doll, I hope you enjoyed yourself last night. Take care and I’ll see you tonight at 8:00 P.M. You don’t need to be fancy, and you know the address.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest for what felt like minutes, but in reality it was only a second or two. Your head was reeling now. Why did he want to meet you at his house? Your best friend’s house? Was she even going to be gone this evening?

You quickly checked your texts. Becca had been fairly MIA for her finals, which tracked considering she took her schooling so seriously. You scrolled up, glanced at the date on your calendar, and then your cheeks flushed crimson. Becca would be gone. Most of the night, actually. Her boyfriend, Cole, had his last baseball game of the school season and it didn’t start until seven.

Was he inviting you over for…? No. No, he couldn’t be. Even with the tension between you two the night before, you knew Bucky. You knew he wasn’t like that. You knew he didn’t think of you like that. Not at all.

As you folded the letter back up and tucked it neatly inside its envelope, you turned to take in the magnificent sight of the multiple dozens of roses that were bloomed as red as your cheeks as they sat there on the kitchen counter like a neon invitation. An invitation to see how far you could push Mr. Barnes that evening.

The house wasn’t anything special. A quaint little brownstone in Brooklyn that screamed home sweet home in the midst of corporate chaos and brightly lit billboards that never slept. The street was quiet, lined with old street lamps that gave it a sort of charm that felt captured in a different time.

You knocked at the deep red door, nervous as you tugged your coat in tight around you. You heard the deadbolt unlatch and then the door creaked open. There was Bucky, in blue jeans and a blue Henley with his hair messier than the night before - he looked much more lived-in and casual and less like a posh Ken doll fresh from the box.

“Come on in,” he invited warmly with a smile, stepping aside.

You gave him a curt, polite nod and a mirrored smile as you ascended the last two steps and crossed over the threshold. You were immediately greeted by the sobering smell of coffee brewing, and the sound of the TV playing the local news at a low volume. You jumped slightly when you felt his hand rest against the small of your back as he came around your left flank. “Can I offer you some coffee?” he asked, glancing down at you with irises that reminded you of endless blue skies on a clear June afternoon.

You glanced nervously between him and the television a few times before you decided you were much too jittery to drink any level of caffeine - so, you declined. “No, thanks,” you said quietly.

Your eyes widened as he moved to take your coat off for you. A red-hot blush flooded your cold cheeks with crimson as his hands brushed along your arms - the cool autumn air didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell against the heat of your own embarrassment. “O-Oh I-“ you stuttered, watching as he placed your coat on the rack just beside the door.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘thank you’?” Bucky quipped teasingly, beckoning for you to follow him into the kitchen.

You followed, leaning against the kitchen island while he poured himself a cup of coffee into one of those cheesy ‘World’s #1 Dad’ mugs. He leaned back against the dark granite countertop across from you, eyes flicking up to meet yours over the brim of his mug as he took a sip of the piping hot liquid.

You cocked an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you didn’t summon me here with a bush of roses just for me to watch you drink coffee,” you said, breaking the tensioned silence that had fallen between you.

He laughed a little, setting the mug to the side. “Guilty as charged,” he said, half-heartedly throwing up his hands before his expression shifted to something more serious.

“I asked you over because I wanted to tell you, in person, that this-“ he gestured from himself to you “-cannot be a…A thing.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his jaw ticked, clearly nervous.

You laughed. “Bucky, this was never meant to be a thing,” you said, mirroring him as he crossed his arms over his chest. You got the feeling he was backpedaling, like he realized something at the restaurant the night before and was now trying to build a wall to keep it out. “I was looking for a hookup, not a boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe since you’ve seen how a proper man treats a lady, perhaps you’ll rethink that.”

“I’m really not ready to get back in the dating scene…”

“Then wait.”

You paused. This was your life. Not his. Why in the hell did he care so much? “What’s it matter to you if I wait or not?”

His jaw ticked and his eyes briefly darted to the side, fixating on a point in space you couldn’t quite locate. “I don’t want you playing with fire so much you burn yourself,” he muttered, gaze going downtrodden.

“Why do you care?”

“Seeing you hurt, hurts me.”

“And why do you care that fucking much?”

Your question lands on him like a bullet to the chest. He picks up his coffee, mug trembling a little, and takes a sip like it’ll magically cure the ache in his chest. “It’s what Steve would have wanted me to encourage you to do.”

You sighed. Steve was your father, a military vet and close friend of Bucky’s who’d been killed in action many moons ago. You only found out about their connection to each after about a year of being close friends with Becca - at your high school graduation when Bucky gifted you a letter your father had left for you.

“He isn’t here and he doesn’t get to dictate what I do,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze because it’d only remind you that he was doing this to isolate himself.

“But I can still try to fulfill his wishes,” Bucky said, taking a couple steps forward and inserting himself into the awkward little bubble you’d built. It felt like he was taking up too much personal space but not enough at the same time.

Your breath hitched as he reached forward and pressed his metal palm to your cheek, something cold and shocking against the constant flush that reddened your skin. “And it’s so I no longer want what I can’t have.”

Your heart was pounding. You. He meant you. You were what he couldn’t have. You were the guilty pleasure, the reason he probably answered your text in the first place. And you were right - he was trying to build a wall. A wall between your heart and his.

You nuzzled against his palm, eyes fluttering shut. The touch felt holy. “What if I want it too?” you whispered, opening your eyes and looking up at him. “What about my own wishes?”

“It’s not the right thing to do…”

“I don’t want to do the right thing, Bucky!” you exclaimed, frustrated. You pushed yourself off the counter, standing closer to him now - almost chest to chest. “You don’t understand that all I want right now is something wrong! I want to feel something, Bucky. Anything. Anything other than this pain.” Your voice was beginning to crack and those beautiful blues of his were starting to well up with tears.

“I…” Bucky’s hand lingered on your cheek. You could tell by the way his fingers twitched that he was thinking. That he was trying to figure out if he had the strength to go against his own morals. “I…I can’t…”

You reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek with your own palm, thumb running along the plane of his cheekbone. “You can.”

He looked like he was about to break, about to shatter completely. The tension was thick enough to feel, heavy and suffocating. His eyes flicked from yours and down to your lips. Back up to your eyes. Back down to your lips. “This isn’t a good idea…” he murmured, leaning in close enough now that you could smell the mix of coffee and whiskey and mint on his breath.

You took a shuddering breath, eyes closing again because you couldn’t stand the weight of his gaze. “I don’t want it to be good. I just want to feel…” you breathed, shaky hand coming to rest against his muscled chest. “I just want to feel you.”

You could see it in the way his jaw ticked - you could feel it in the way he wasn’t sure if your hand burned him or comforted him. Bucky was trying so hard to resist the temptation in front of him. “Please, doll…I can’t,” he pleaded brokenly, but it was weak and he made no attempt to pull away from your touch.

You leaned up, nose nudging his and lips so close to brushing as you murmured, “Then why are you still here?”

It could be heard in his chest, something deep and guttural and longing all pulled together into a groan he couldn’t hold back. And suddenly, both of his hands were holding your face - one metal, one flesh. The way his lips smashed into yours would be forever imprinted in your mind. You could only imagine how long he’d waited to have this. To have you.

The kiss was everything - teeth, tongue, breath, and heat. He nipped playfully at your bottom lip and you growled, which elicited a deep chuckle you’d never heard before - amused and pleased. His tongue explored your mouth like it was trying to map it, and yours did the very same to his. Nothing about this was normal. But you didn’t want it to be.

When he broke the kiss, it was only because one of you needed to fucking breathe or you’d both be dead on the floor. Panting, he whispered, “Is that what you wanted?”

You nodded wordlessly and pulled him right back in, trying to drown him under the weight of how much you craved him. His hands found your hips and gripped at the soft flesh, picking you up like you weighed nothing and perching you atop the granite.

His flesh hand snaked its way up your blouse, unclasping your bra with a practiced ease that shouldn’t have turned you on but it did. He pulled the garment off and tossed it on the kitchen floor, the silk of your blouse cascading in cool puddles across your tits. You shivered, only cold for a moment before his palm was kneading at the mounds of flesh like he’d been dreaming of how good they’d feel.

You moaned out, breaking the kiss as you tossed your head back when his thumb and forefinger began to tease and roll your nipple between calloused skin. “Fuck,” you groaned, hands scrambling from purchase at the edge of the countertop.

You barely had time to react before Bucky was ripping your blouse from your torso, a shocked gasp falling from your lips. “Bucky!” you scolded, but he remained unbothered and on a mission.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he muttered, stooping down and taking your neglected breast into his mouth as his hand continued to work the other.

The feel of his hot, wet mouth and tongue across your nipple was enough to have you keening up off the counter and further into his touch. It felt so fucking good that you were convinced you’d cum just from the way he worshipped your tits.

He pulled back, lips glistening with saliva and pupils blown as he glanced up at you. He looked feral - hungry and ready to feast. You watched as he dropped to his knees and rucked up your pencil skirt to reveal the lacy panties that clung to your dripping wet core.

“This what I do to ya, doll?” he breathed, practically drooling at the smell of your arousal as it assaulted his senses. He just needed to taste you. Devour you.

You whimpered and nodded. “Y-Yes,” you nearly whispered, brain short-circuiting as you felt his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties and peel them away.

He watched, mesmerized by how your glistening folds clung to the lace, groaning as he could now see how drenched and pretty you were for him. He tossed the panties somewhere in the same direction as your bra, and then his hands were prying you open to make way for his head as he leaned in and licked a slow, warm stripe straight up the center of your heat.

You felt your toes curls and your back bow a little as the tip of his tongue traced devastating circles around your clit before diving back down and straight past your entrance.

“Bucky!” you gasped out, head thrown back as your hands found purchase in that gorgeous salt-and-pepper mane of his. “Fuck-“ you groaned, listening as the sounds he made were so obscene they had you blushing. Licking, slurping, sucking…He was like a man starved and you were the best damn meal he could’ve been served.

Bucky hummed against your core, sending vibrations straight through your clit as his lips closed around the sensitive bud and began to suck. You were already trembling from the overload of pleasure, but that wasn’t enough for him. No, he needed you screaming for his mercy.

You felt as he teased your entrance with his forefinger, just barely pushing it in and then retreating. Nothing he could’ve done in that moment would have prepared you for when he plunged two fingers deep inside you and curled them with such ease it was almost second nature.

You could feel yourself clench around his digits with his name on your lips as you let out a whorish moan. Between his mouth and tongue working your clit and his fingers quite literally beckoning you to cum for him, you were in pure, blissful heaven.

That burning coil in the pit of your stomach began to wind tighter and tighter, and he could tell. He hummed in approval, fingers bullying into your g-spot now with a precision that was, frankly, unfair.

“C’mon, doll,” he urged as he lapped at your clit. “Cum f’me. Lemme have it all…” The way his voice was so deep, so smooth…It was like silk over gravel. And it had you coming undone the second he begged for you like that.

Your body arched forward as you moaned his name, nails digging into his scalp as your toes curled and your entire body felt like it was trying to levitate off the damn counter. But he didn’t stop - even as you pulsed and gushed around him, he kept on fucking going.

“B-Bucky,” you whimpered out as it was bordering on overstimulation. “B-Buck please…” You were pleading with a man who was too damn happy with where he was. If you’d let him, he’d live there between your thighs and die a very satisfied man.

“One more f’me…Please,” he begged softly, warm breath ghosting across your core before he dove back in and began sucking at your clit again.

You could feel tears blurring the edges of your vision, and you weren’t even sure if your first orgasm had ended before the second begun - but, you still felt it all the same. The overwhelming tidal wave of bliss that caused your body to clench around his fingers like your cunt was trying to trap him there. You let out something between a moan and a sob, grip faltering on his hair as your body collapsed back against the shockingly cold granite.

Your head was spinning, vision blurred and hearing muffled. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum so hard in your whole goddamn life.

“So, so good f’me, doll,” you heard him praise you through the haze. He slowly pulled his fingers out, your dripping cunt fluttering around nothing at the absence of him. He gladly lapped at the slick release you’d rewarded him with, earning a very fucked-out groan from you. “Tastes like heaven and ya sound like it too when you’re cummin’ f’me like that,” he drawled, getting to his feet.

As he rose, you could see just how hard he was against the stiff denim of his jeans, and that only filled you with a new wave of want - of craving.

A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips when he noticed you were staring - not that you were trying to stare, it was just there. “Not right here, doll,” he murmured like he could read your mind, a finger hooking under your chin and gently bringing your lips up to his as he kissed you with the remnants of your release still glistening on his skin. The taste of you and him combined was intoxicating, a drug that you only wanted more of…

But then he was pulling away and you were left pouting. “Hey, don’t you pull that with me,” he teased, pressing a chaste peck to your forehead before you found yourself being lifted into his arms - bridal style - like you weighed no more than a feather. “You’ll get what you want. Just gotta be patient, sweetheart.”

The sickly sweet kindness in his smile was almost cruel in this scenario, but you silently snaked your arms around his neck as he carried you through the narrow foyer and up the short staircase to the second floor. The house wasn’t cramped, necessarily. But, with him carrying you through the tight halls, it felt rather cozy with just the two of you alone.

His foot nudged the door open to the master bedroom, old brass hinges creaking softly. You found yourself being laid so gingerly onto the mattress you could almost feel the tears welling again in your eyes. He treated you like something special, something fragile. It made your heart swell a little.

“May I?” he asked, nodding to your skirt. It was your last remaining article of clothing. You nodded back in permission, cheeks flushed crimson in the low lamplight that streamed through the window and illuminated everything in a heavenly, golden glow.

Bucky shimmied your skirt gently down your legs and tossed it aside before he made zero show about stripping down himself - but, it was a delicious sight to you all the same.

Watching as the layers of clothing were peeled away, revealing nothing but rippling muscles and silvery scars. The scar where metal met man was particularly bad, but still beautiful it’s own devastating rite. His dress shirt the night before hadn’t left much to your imagination, but even then, this was far beyond what your mind had conjured - he had the appearance that God himself carved him from the finest marble. An aged artwork that only grew finer with the weather and the years.

“You’re staring again,” he murmured lowly, crawling over top of your body and caging you in with solid forearms and beefy biceps you swore one day you’d take a bite of.

Heat rushed across your cheeks and you brought your hands up to rest against his biceps, fingers gripping flesh one side and brushing across whirring metal plates on the other. “I’m just admiring what you’ve been keeping from me,” you whispered.

“Well, it’s not polite to stare, doll,” he said, dipping down so your lips were brushing dangerously close.

“It’s not polite to keep a girl waiting,” you quipped back, feeling your breath hitch a little just feeling his bare chest pressed so intimately to your own.

“See? You’re learning,” he chuckled softly, ducking down and beginning to kiss and suck at the suppleness of your neck. “Good girl,” you heard him mumble against your skin.

You arched up into his feather-light touch, lips trailing from neck to collarbone to breasts to torso as soft purple bruises began to bloom in his wake. And then he was sitting back on his knees and you took another unashamed moment to fully appreciate him. To admire his cock, impossibly hard and gorgeously flushed, leaking precum like he’d been edged for hours.

He opened his mouth and you interrupted him. “Yeah, yeah. Staring again. I get it, Barnes. Just let me eye-fuck you, yeah?” you muttered, and that got an actual laugh from him.

Reaching his flesh hand down, he gripped himself at the base and started to stroke his aching length. “You like what you see?” he breathed, angling his hips a little so his precum dripped along your thighs like a sinful, pearlescent trail that lead to your core. “You imagining what it can do to ya, doll?”

You nodded, more than eager. “Wanna feel it inside me…Please,” you pleaded, practically drooling as you watched him rub the head of his cock through your slick folds. “Please…”

“Mmm…Please who?” he asked, gaze flicking up to your face as it was contorted in desperation for him.

It took you a split second to think about what he might’ve been asking. And then it popped into your mind and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “You’re a dirty man, Barnes,” you purred, only to feel the grip of metal meet your throat. Your eyes went wide.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, and the gravelly rumble of his voice went straight to your cunt as your walls fluttered around nothing.

“Yes, Sergeant,” you said, pushing your throat up further into his hand and smirking.

Bucky groaned, swearing in the back of his mind that you were going to be the death of him. He squeezed at your throat one last time before posting the same vibranium palm right beside your head. “That’s right, doll,” he muttered, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your skull as you felt him begin to push inside you.

The stretch burned, but the way he so perfectly filled and dominated every inch of space was immaculate - let alone the way you could feel every pulsing vein and soft ridge brushing along your walls as he eased in inch by brutal inch. He paused about halfway, concerned by how your features were twisted. “Doin’ okay there, doll?” he asked, flesh hand coming up to cup your cheek. The way his thumb ran along the high plane of your cheekbone was tender, loving.

You nodded, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes and wet eyelashes. “More than fucking okay,” you managed to choke out with a small laugh. It was hard to put into words just how good he felt buried so deep inside you that you swore he was pushing the very oxygen from your lungs.

Bucky let out a soft grunt once he was fully sheathed, already appearing wrecked. “Fuck, doll,” he breathed, nearly panting as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. “So fuckin’ tight, ya know that? Squeezin’ me…Milkin’ me dry already and I haven’t even started…” He let out a small, breathless chuckle.

You let out a laugh just as breathless as his. “Sounds like you’re not gonna last very long, old man,” you jeered playfully.

His cheeks flushed bright red, but he didn’t reply. He only slowly began to pull out, groaning raggedly as he felt the way his cock dragged along your walls - the way your body was actively trying to pull him back and keep him in.

He pulled out nearly all the way and then pushed himself back in all at once. You moaned so loudly when he bottomed out that you were certain the neighbors three doors down heard you. And that wasn’t the last time they would, unfortunate enough as it was for them. Because he pulled out and then pushed back into you again, forcing the same exact whorish moan past your lips before you could catch it.

“You like what I do to ya, doll? Like when I give it all to ya? When I bury my cock so deep ya feel it here?” he drawled, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips as his flesh hand pressed down against a small bulge in your lower abdomen and you just about levitated off the goddamn bed.

The pace he set was steady and calculated. One that allowed for him to achieve the same depth of penetration each and every time - the same devastating attention to making sure he hit all the right spots. It wasn’t brutal because it was fast - no, it was brutal because he took his time and holy fuck it was a borderline religious experience.

It felt as though you had no idea where your body ended and his begun as he rucked your legs up over his shoulders and you found yourself with nails raking down his back as your ankles were pushed back damn near close to the sides of your head. The position was passionate, intimate. Sweat began to pool where your bodies were melded, chest to chest and forehead to shoulder. You couldn’t help the way you moaned his name, and he couldn’t help the way he panted yours like he was begging for mercy.

“Takin’ me s’well…Atta girl,” he breathed out, his praises sending sparks of red-hot pleasure straight to your cunt. “Gonna fill ya up, doll…Claim ya…Make ya mine like I shoulda done a long time ago…”

You whimpered at his words, nails digging crescents into the tops of his shoulders as you clung on for dear life. “B-Bucky~” you moaned out weakly, head fuzzy as your mind was actively being fucked stupid. “Please…” you begged, pulling at him and trying to encourage him to go faster. Harder.

“You sure, doll?”

“If you don’t fuck me into this goddamn mattress-“

He cut you off with a sharp snap of his hips. Then another. And another. You could feel the head of his cock bullying into that soft, spongy spot inside you and you cried out. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” you exclaimed with each thrust, eyes lolling shut and your head hitting the pillow as the pleasure began conjuring stars across your vision.

Bucky groaned, something deep, guttural, and primal - something you hadn’t expected from someone who seemed so…Quiet. “It’s like you were made f’me, doll,” he whimpered, his rhythm beginning to falter. “Ya gonna cum f’me? Can feel ya grippin’ me…Know you’re close, sweetheart. Need ya to give it to me…”

He was begging for you in the same way someone would pray for forgiveness - reverent and wrecked and desperate. You could feel that coil in your lower abdomen tightening, pulling taut until your orgasm snapped through your body unyielding and violent.

“B-Bucky! A-Ah~!” you barely managed to squeak out as you felt your spine arch off the mattress and your body seize beyond your control. He groaned again as your cunt clenched down around him, and you could feel as he began to throb and pulse ropes of white, hot cum inside you at the exact same time.

“Shit-“ he grunted out, stilling inside you and partially collapsing his weight on top of you as his chest heaved and gleamed with sweat.

Your head was fuzzy, warm. The afterglow rolled over your body like something soft and comforting - floaty like you were resting on a cloud of your own pleasure. “Mmm…Bucky?” you asked, trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

“Is that how a man should fuck me proper?”

He laughed, turning his head to pepper soft kisses on your cheek. “Yeah, doll. I’d say so.”

He slowly pulled out and then flopped onto the bed beside you. The loss of him inside you felt almost great enough to mourn, but his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close quickly filled that void. “And now I’ve ruined you for all the boys,” he teased, kissing your forehead before gathering you in close to his chest - he was like a furnace, and he held you like his greatest treasure.

You giggled. “S’okay,” you mumbled against his skin, lazily tangling your legs with his. “‘M yours now anyway.”

“It’s a trap!” Tony yelled the moment he saw the man standing in front of him. “Everybody out now.” He screamed through his comms.

He lifted his arm, pointing his hand toward the man. He shoot him with his blaster. The man fell down in a second as Tony raised himself in the air with the armour.

Too damn easy, he thought.

He heard some noise, people fighting and guns shooting.

He first saw Natasha, coming out from a metal door. Her face dirty and blood all over it. She gave him a look that said “it’s not mine”.

After some minutes, Sam with Steve and Y/N reappeared.

“Where’s Bucky?” Y/N asked immediately.

“Wasn’t he with you guys?” Tony replied, pointing at Captain America and Falcon.

They both shook their head.

Panic began to flow in her face when even Natasha didn’t know where Bucky was.

The billionaire flew down, feet on the ground, looking at Y/N.

He had always seen her as a daughter and knowing Bucky was her first official and real relationship, he panicked too but trying to keep his facade just for her.

“Okay kid, don’t worry…” he said calmly. “He’s somewhere here.”

“Where Tony? I don’t see him here!” Y/N yelled back. “I’m sorry…” she whispered almost immediately. “It’s not your fault Tony…”

Tony moved closer and engulfed her in a metal hug.

Around them Steve, Sam and Nat began to think.

Bucky was of course with them on the jet, precisely near Y/N with his arm on her shoulder, keeping her close. It was their own ritual before any mission. They sat together, his arm protecting her for absolutely no reason and her giving him little kisses on his cheek.

He was with then on the ground where they landed looking for the threat but then nowhere to be found after that.

“We should split,” Tony suggested. “I’m going north flying over the facility,” he pointed his finger toward the sky. “Nat will take the south sector,” he looked toward Nat, who nodded. “Steve and Sam you’re gonna be with Y/N. She has to download all the files and you’re gonna cover her.”

Both men nodded looking at Tony.

“Barnes,” he turned toward Bucky. “You knew this place?”

Bucky nodded looking down.

“Check the perimeter.”

He nodded again.

“Let’s do this.” Tony said clapping his hand flying high in the sky.

Nat slid out of sight like a cat, Sam and Steve patiently wait for Bucky to kiss Y/N.

They both smile seeing their friend so in love.

“Doll, be careful.”

“You too soldier.”

“Tony,” Y/N began to sob.

“No no no,” he rested his hand on her shoulder. “We’re not doing this.”

“But-“

“I said no. He’s here and we’re gonna find him and have a party all together at the tower.” He said, catching a tear on her face.

Minutes passed and panic began to build in all of the Avengers.

They all rose their head when they heard some noise. Heavy footsteps were approaching. They all stood up in a second.

Tony rose himself in the air. Steve lifted his shield. Sam and Nat swinged their fists in the air. Y/N’s hands immediately on the gun.

“Wait,” she yelled happily. “It’s Bucky! I saw his metal arm-“ words got stuck in your throat as pain was the only thing you felt.

Falling on the ground, she grabbed her shoulder and saw blood all over her hand.

Bucky shot her.

“That’s not Bucky,” Steve yelled.

“That’s the fucking Winter Soldier.” Tony shouted.

They all put themselves between her body on the ground and Bucky.

He kept walking toward her. His eyes never leaving her figure.

She tried to stand but the bullet inside her arm stung so bad.

Natasha threw herself on Bucky, trying to climb onto him but failed. Steve hit him with his shield, but the metal arm was stronger. Sam tried to fly up in the air but Bucky’s hand grabbed him by his ankle throwing him on the ground.

Tony was the only one still standing. He threw a look over Y/N’s body and then at the very angry Winter Soldier in front of him.

He blasted him, right in the middle of his chest.

Bucky barely moved.

“Damn it,” he whispered shout. “He’s stronger now!”

In a rush of adrenaline, Tony flew higher in the sky. Pointing his arm toward Bucky, he shot him a tranquilliser in his neck from his arm.

Bucky felt on his knees, gripping the gun and then facing down on the soil.

“Bucky!” Y/N yelled still fighting with the pain.

“Stay away!” Steve said, once he saw Y/N moving. “He’s not Bucky.”

“He is to me,” Y/N said crashing onto Steve.

Captain America looked down at her. Her tiny and defeated body against his muscular one.

He hated seeing her like this and hated more seeing his best friend lying down unconscious on the ground. “He’s gonna be alright… but we need to take him back to the tower. Alright?”

Y/N nodded sobbing.

At the tower, Steve and Sam brought Bucky’s still unconscious body in a cell.

“I hate doing this pal,” Steve whispered to his best friend. “But it’s for the best…”

“He’s gonna be okay, cap.” Sam promised.

Into another floor, Y/N began to fight everyone.

Nat tried to hold her down, something usually easy for her but her needs to be with Bucky was stronger.

“Y/N damn it! You need to calm down.”

“I NEED TO SEE HIM. WHERE IS HE?”

“Kid-“ Tony tried to explain. He held the rubbing alcohol and cloth in his hand, trying to calm her. “I need to wash and disinfect your shoulder.”

“SHUT UP! I WANNA SEE HIM.”

Y/N really fought hard, maybe too hard. Her shoulder began to shake and stung. Her yelling was heard even outside.

“Y/N,” Steve yelled entering. “HE’S LOCKED IN A CELL, SLEEPING. ONCE YOU’RE OKAY I’LL LET YOU SEE HIM. NOW SHUT UP AND LET US HELP YOU.” Steve’s tone made her cry but she laid on the table. “Thank you.” He said kindly.

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Is he okay?”

No one spoke.

“Cap?” She asked again, opening her eyes.

She saw tears stains on Steve’s face.

“I don’t know… he was him again…”

Once Tony finished extracting the bullet and disinfecting the shoulder, he took a laser he created. After he finished, Y/N stood up.

“I’m gonna see him.” She didn’t asked, she told them.

“I don’t think-“ Tony began to argue.

She had already left the room.

In the lift, going down to the cell floor, she began to fiddle with her bracelet. It was a slim silver chain, with a small “B” as pendant.

Once the door opened, she remained in the elevator for a second staring the metal door. She took a deep breath and got in.

Concrete floor and wall, some dark cell except for the last one. She walked toward the occupied one.

She saw Bucky, her Bucky, lying on the floor. His chest moved up and down calmly. As he perceived her presence, he jolted up. He stared at her. His big blue sparkly eyes gone.

He stood there, she stood outside with just a glass dividing them.

Steve was right, that wasn’t Bucky. That was the Winter Soldier.

“Buck-“ she began talking, resting her hand on the glass in a mere way of letting him know she was there. She let him see the pendant on her wrist.

Bucky glared at her, she saw his lips twitching. She thought he was about to rest his palm on the glass too, but she was wrong.

Bucky began punching the glass with his metal hand.

Heavy punches on the glass made it trembling.

For the first time, she was scared of him. She rationally knew that wasn’t his Bucky, but she also knew that in that moment Bucky was hide in that mix of anger.

“Bucky please stop,” she cried, sliding away from the glass. “Bucky it’s me. I’m your girlfriend. It’s Y/N… your Y/N…”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He grunted keeping punching the glass.

His smile, one of the things she loved most about him, made her blood boil. It was angry and evil and scaring.

He glared at her while she tried to talk to him.

“Bucky please stop… you have to fight it…”

He didn’t stop.

Panic really started when she noticed a crack in the glass. She lost balance trying to escape.

Her shoulder began to sting again but it was nothing like the panic when she heard the glass breaking.

Bucky’s fists were able to break the glass.

She was now alone.

Alone with the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s breath was hitched and frantic. His eyes darker than ever. His fist closed, ready to fight. It was almost as he didn’t see her lying there, near his feet.

The bandage Tony applied on her arm, blocked her movements.

She spent the first months of relationship trying to calm Bucky when the Winter Soldier topic came out, but now she was alone with the most dangerous assassin on the planet.

She stood up and stared at him.

“Bucky you know me,” she pleaded.

“You’re my enemy.”

His words made you angry.

As he launched toward her in front of her, she slid on the other side. She hated how well she knew what he was going to do. He explained it to her one night, in their bed.

“I don’t always remember… but they always told me to move directly in front of my victim…”

In that moment she was his victim.

She knew damn well she wasn’t able to fight him alone because he was already stronger than her and, seeing how he easily broke the glass, she thought he was under some other type of serum.

He moved like a shadow, she tried to do the same. Moving with an arm attached to her body was impossible. She was a trained Avenger but he was the love of her life and that made her weak.

He grabbed her and pushed her down on the floor straddling her waist, then he lifted his flesh arm closing his fist. She rolled over just in time, but her legs were still under him. He caged her better and moved her upper body, sliding it on the ground. Her shoulder really hurt and some tears escaped from her eyes.

“You fucking know me Bucky!” She yelled. “Fucking fight it!”

“I don’t know shit.”

In a rush of fortune, she punched his chin. He rolled his eyes but he didn’t move remaining on her body, crushing her.

She lifted his knees kicking him in his crotch. He bent down a little, the tip of his nose touching hers. She felt his weight on her. He groaned as he stood with his upper body again.

Anger and tired of fighting, she caught a glimpse she didn’t like in his eyes. He moved his metal arm like it’s weighted nothing and crushed it on her neck. She felt her breath leaving her body.

His hand pressed more and her face began to shake.

“Buc-“

“Shut up!”

He pressed his thighs more on her, caging her on the floor. His flesh hand kept her arm up on her head while his metal one held her neck. She felt the air leaving her body as the time goes by.

“Y/N!”

Steve’s voice echoed in the room.

Bucky, visibly annoyed by Steve’s voice, removed his hand from her neck and stood up, ready to fight. A shot of air in her throat, breathing now properly. She remained on the floor, as the breath progressively came back.

Steve, followed by Sam and Nat and Tony, immediately launched themself on Bucky.

Nat hit him with an electric shock before kicking him in the shin. Bucky knelt on the floor while Steve and Sam fought to keep him still. Tony, running toward him, attached in his arm a little metal coin. After pushing some buttons in his tablet, Bucky was pulled down again on the floor.

“This disabled his arm… but it’s not permanently,” he looked at her still on the floor, now sitting. She nodded toward Tony.

“Thanks.” He said before completely detaching his arm from his body.

Bucky’s eyes opened shocked.

In those few seconds of calm, Tony shoot him again with another tranquilliser, a tougher one.

The Winter Soldier felt on the floor.

“Let’s leave him here,” Tony said. “He can’t escape the metal door.” He added, pointing at the door.

Everyone gathered around Y/N. She stood, touching her neck feeling Bucky’s hand still on her skin.

“Y/N,” Sam started.

She remained silent, watching Bucky lying on the floor unconscious.

She spent the remaining day in her room, as she didn’t want to get back in her and Bucky’s room.

A knock on her door, around eleven o’clock woke her from his thinking.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Steve said entering.

“If he’s awake… I don’t want to see him Steve.”

Bucky was indeed awake.

He woke up on the floor, without his left arm. His head banging and his muscles completely sore. A fog in his mind except for one thing.

The absolute horror in her eyes.

The horror he caused.

He knelt on the floor, heavy breath and tears free on his face. He took a look around himself noticing all the cells. His eyes locked on a cell without the glass. Thousand of shattered glass around him, cracking under his knees.

He didn’t remember precisely what he did but he remembered who he attacked.

He heard a bip in the silence of the cells room.

After a couple of minutes the massive metal door opened and Tony, followed by Steve, appeared in front of him.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asked.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah…” he looked down replying to his best friend. “What did I do?”

“What you fear the most… he attacked Y/N…”

Steve proceeded to explain everything the Winter Soldier did. He refused to say “you did that” choosing to say “he did that”.

“Pal,” Bucky whispered standing up, shaking from the last traces of the tranquilliser. “I did those things… you don’t need to sugar coating…”

“Right,” Steve said. “We found you getting toward us after the mission but…”

“But it wasn’t me… it was him.”

Tony circled him, he was angry but now with Bucky or at least not fully with Bucky.

He saw how he was avoiding his eyes. Bucky had always knew how much Y/N meant to Tony.

“Stop this bullshit, Barnes,” Tony said as he checked Bucky’s head. “It wasn’t your fault. So you can fucking look me in the eyes.”

“I attacked her… I can’t look at anyone right now… I don’t deserve any of your help.”

Steve finished telling her what Bucky told them in the cell room.

“I know if you don’t want to see him but you shouldn’t give up on him…”

“Do you think I’m giving up on him?” She yelled. “Do you think I’m giving up on bringing back the old Bucky? My boyfriend? The man I love?”

“You didn’t want to see him…”

She stood from her bed but immediately sat back. With her head in her hands, she began crying. “I’m scared Steve…scared for him,” she took a deep breath. “I know what he can do and… I know for a fact that Bucky would never forgive himself…”

Steve’s eyes changed immediately. In that moment he knew for sure she was the right woman for Bucky. She insisted of seeing him right after he shot her, she was with him in the cell and now she was worried about Bucky’s safety first before hers.

“Y/N,” Steve sat in the bed. “I’ve know Bucky since we were kids and I know Bucky suffered a lot but you… you are the only one who handle him… hell I don’t even know if I can’t handle him the way you did,” he stopped and a tear fell from his eye. “He needs you and you need him. I know you’re scared for him and I know he’ll try to avoid you but please… keep him safe.”

She hugged him tightly, crying on his shoulder.

“I wanna see him.”

They both got down to the med floor.

Bucky rested on the bed, an IV in his flesh arm to rehydrate him. Just outside his room Tony, with Sam and Nat, all turned hearing the elevator’s door opening.

Y/N and Steve, visibly still shocked, appeared.

“Is he okay?” She asked Tony.

“He is. Some fluids and his body already washed out the serum.” Tony looked at Y/N’s neck. She covered it with her hand. “You were right, Cap. He had a newer version of the serum through his veins.”

Y/N stared at the door separating them from Bucky. “Can you all leave please? I wanna be with Bucky alone.”

Everyone nodded.

Once she was alone in the corridor, she grabbed the knob and turned it.

The door opened and she entered in the room. First thing she saw was her boyfriend in the bed. He made Tony lowered the curtain, so the room was in a dim light. Once she got near him, he turned quickly his head. She looked down and saw something that made her cry.

Bucky didn’t have his left arm attached to his body. A quick scan in the room and she noticed it on the ground, near the bed.

“Bucky,”

“Don’t… I don’t want that thing ever again.” He said looking at the window.

“Look at me, Buck.” She pleaded him.

“Don’t do this to me. I can’t even imagine what you felt down there… why are you here?”

“Because my boyfriend is here,” she moved toward the bed. “Look at me…please…”

Bucky turned his head. His eyes red and puffy, his lower lips bleeding and his face pale. His eyes back at their colour, but it wasn’t the usually sparky nuance. It was a sad tone of blue, reflecting what he was feeling. His look immediately changed when he saw the handprint, his handprint, on her skin.

“I did that…”

“No you didn’t. He did it, not you.”

“Damn it Y/N… it’s the same thing…”

Bucky’s voice was low, a whisper barely coming out of his mouth. He sat on the bed, removing his IV from his arm.

“What are you doing?” She exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder as he sat too quickly. “Your body needs rest. Stay there.”

“I need to go far away from here,”

“From me? That’s what you meant? Away from me?” She said, pointing his feet on the ground in front of him.

He sat on the edge of the bed. His shirt off, showing bruises and cut. He still didn’t fully looked at her in her eyes, he couldn’t.

He tried to stand and fell on the ground.

She moved quickly to grab him by his flesh arm.

“Don’t touch me.” He yelled crying as human representation of a caged animals.

Bucky felt in a kinda of way like a caged animal.

He spent 70 years locked and used as a weapon, and now he felt like a weapon again seeing the mark on her skin.

She slid away of him, just a bit only to give him some space.

He remained on the floor, crying and sobbing.

“It’s pathetic I know,” he cried.

“It’s not Buck, please let me help you.”

She reached for his flesh arm, he let her do it. Pushing on his feet, he stood and sat back on the bed.

He looked down. She moved toward him and guided his head toward her chest. He rested his forehead on her skin.

She lifted her arm, circling his neck and playing with some locks on his head. Kissing his head, he let out a long and deep breath.

“How could you still want me?” He asked in a whisper.

“Because I love you Bucky Barnes. That’s why.”

That was the first time she said those three words to him. He took a deep breath and began to tremble.

“I love you so much doll. It consumes me and made me happy… so much happy,” he began to hiccup. “I want to be with you but… I don’t know if I can be with you after what I did…”

“You did nothing wrong,” she held his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. It was the first time he looked at her, really looked. Her eyes were red and puffy like his. Her lower lips trembled a little. She was beautiful.

“That man,” she kissed his lips loving and tenderly. “He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t the man I love. He was the beast someone created.”

She kissed him more, he crumbled against her. “My boyfriend is the sweetest and kindest man on the planet. He’s brave and honest and gentle. He’s always putting everyone else’s needs in front of his own. He’s treating me like the most important person in the world,”

“It’s because you are…” he delicately interrupted her.

“He looks at me like I hung the moon and stars. He knows me better than anyone else and I know for sure he’d be fighting with his own life for me. That’s my boyfriend and I love him.”

Bucky now was actually crying. Y/N felt her shirt getting wet but she held him there, on her chest letting him hear her heartbeat.

“Stay there,” she kissed him another time.

She circled the bed, getting the arm thrown on the floor.

“Doll,”

“Shut up Buck.”

He snorted for a second.

Once she was again in front of him, she lifted the heavy arm and attached it back on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Now you’re complete.” She said as she pulled both of his arm around her waist.

“Tell me everything I,” he looked at her and she crocked her eyebrow. “Tell me everything he did…”

“He shot me after the mission and you already know what he did in the cell.”

“Can I see?”

She nodded.

Detaching herself from him arms, she lifted her shirt remaining with only her bra. On her shoulder there was a patch. She removed it and noticed that the skin was already healing due to a special surgical laser Tony used on you.

He moved closer, with his arm on her back, pulling her against him. He kissed the skin once then another time and again. She rested her chin on his head while he kept kissing her shoulder. His lips moved upward, on her neck. He traced first the handprint and then nipped gently against her.

“Buck,”

“Please I need it.”

“Okay.”

He kept kissing her skin, like his kisses could heal her faster and in a weird way they did.

His hands grabbed her by her thighs, lifting and pulling her on his lap. He groaned a little and she got worried.

“Buck probably it’s not the best time…”

“It’s always the best time if it’s with you on my lap.”

They stayed there, crushing against each other. His skin against his and their heartbeat beating together.

“I love you so much doll,”

“I love you too, Buck. Always and forever. I trust you.”

He cried more on her chest and she let him do it.

She never looked him differently.

He was her world and she kept protecting him from everyone.

Even from himself.