Mox Writes Fanfiction

The gruff hum from Bucky as you cuddled up next to him in the bed of his truck was a warm reminder of your welcome presence. You laid your back against his side and pulled the thick blanket up your body and his left leg. His right leg was bent with his flesh arm resting on it, holding a bottle of beer that he finished off and tossed on the ground with the other empty bottles. Bucky wrapped his metal arm around your waist and tugged the blanket up more, making sure you were warm and cozy as he watched you settle in in front of the bonfire.

The scattered group of his friends got quiet as they watched the two of you, the way Bucky’s eyes lit up and filled with pure adoration, the soft gestures he made to make sure you were comfortable, the way his thumb brushed over your arm as he pulled you closer before settling his hand on your waist. You looked up at Bucky, whose face turned into a soft genuine smile upon meeting your eyes. He leaned forward and brushed the tip of his nose to yours before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. The two of you turned back toward his friends and they all made faces. A scatter of chuckles and sighs of enjoyment filled the cold Spring air and it made you blush.

“Nah, nah, by all means, remind us all that we’re single,” Sam, Bucky’s “it’s complicated” co-worker/friend, spoke up. You nestled into Bucky’s side to hide the embarrassment on your face. Bucky laughed and squeezed you, reassuring you that he loved the gentle PDA the two of you had because he didn’t care who saw.

“I think the two of you should just kiss already, the way you’ve been looking at each other all night has sex written all over it,” Sharon said as she tossed back her bourbon. Bucky laughed and looked at you with a large smile, a smile that made your heart melt and flutter. He leaned down and kissed your lips softly, quick but sweet.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that, Barnes!” Sam laughed out, egging him on.

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky turned his head slightly away from you to aim his comment toward Sam. He returned his attention back to you when the group started cheering for you to kiss “for real”. Bucky rolled his eyes but took your face in his hand and pulled you in deep, his mouth opening against yours and allowing your tongues to collide. The kiss lasted for a solid fifteen seconds until the hollering of the group made you laugh. When you pulled away, Bucky kissed your nose and held you against his side.

“Ya know, I am glad you’re here, Y/N. I’ve never seen Buck this happy,” Steve chimed in. He was talking about Bucky’s recent divorce. It was a long, ugly marriage that was only done for the sake of an unexpected pregnancy. Bucky and his ex-wife would go on to have a second child, but their lack of chemistry and constant arguing would eventually lead to divorce just over a year ago.

Bucky was really open about his failed marriage, especially because he met you only a month after it was finalized. He didn’t want there to be any questions or concerns and you appreciated that. The two of you made sure to tread lightly in the early stages of your relationship to avoid any suspicions of adultery or conflict with his children. Especially seeing as you had a sizable age gap between you with Bucky being in his late 30s and you in your mid-20s, only ten years older than his first child. But his kids took a liking to you, sure, his oldest called you “dude” and “homie” ironically turned unironic, but it was nice that they liked you and saw you as a comfortable figure to turn to.

Bucky blushed when Steve went on and on about how happy and in love he seems, causing you to giggle and nudge his ribs. He flashed his beautiful blue eyes down to yours and smiled, not disagreeing with anything Steve said about his feelings. It made you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. You knew this was the man you’d want to spend the rest of your life with, and you were glad others saw it.

“Well, I guess it’s about that time to head out,” Steve said as he slapped his hands to his thighs and stood up. The rest of the group followed suit and gathered up their trash, tossing it in the nearby dumpster as they said their goodbyes and departed. You and Bucky stayed by the fire until all their cars disappeared into the night. The soft sound of gravel got quiet as they got further away. Bucky lived out in the country, which meant the only light was from the current fire that flickered and illuminated your bodies.

“That was fun,” you said as you cuddled deeper into his side.

“It was, I’m glad you like my friends, they really like you,” Bucky chuckled, his southern drawl coming out the longer his sentences were. You’d only actually hung out with his friends a few times but you felt at home with everyone. It was nice, you felt like a part of the family and you were happy to be such a light in Bucky’s life.

You smiled up at him, holding an intense gaze that turned from love to lust very quickly. Your eyes flashed to his mouth, the scruffy beard he was growing out around his perfectly pink lips to his clenched jawline and back up to his blue eyes. Bucky examined your face too, every feature was so beautiful and perfect to him. He placed his large hand on the side of your neck with his fingers spread open to cover more surface with his thumb brushing your jawline. Bucky licked his lips slowly before bringing them to yours and moaning against your flesh.

You turned your body so that it faced his and you pressed as closely as possible to him. He was large and warm, his hairy chest could be seen around the top of his white tank top. You slid your hands over his ribs, under the red flannel he wore over it, and caressed him as his lips and tongue moved expertly with yours. The breeze swept the heat from the crackling fire to the skin of your body that was now exposed by the slipping blanket. You took in the burning scent of wood as you became encapsulated in Bucky’s presence; his loving arms wrapping around your body to lift you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss.

“I want you,” you moaned against his mouth, feeling the soft scratch of his salt and pepper beard on your face. Bucky hummed, sliding his hands up your shirt and kneading your breasts in them.

“You can have me, baby girl,” he spoke softly. His hands traveled back down to your waist, tugging at the edge of your pants until you lifted your hips and allowed him to slide them off your body. Now exposed, you felt a chill run up your back that didn’t go unnoticed by your super-soldier. He pulled the blanket back up to your hips, covering your legs as you straddled him. You giggled at how thoughtful he was, it was such a small gesture but made your heart feel full of love. Bucky couldn’t help but smile against your lips the moment you broke out into a giggle, his blue eyes examining your face so close to his, overwhelmed with pure adoration.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, taking a moment to express just how much you meant to him, and making your smile even bigger.

“I love you too Bucky,” you kissed his soft lips,

“so,” another kiss,

“much,” one last kiss before you pulled him into a hug.

Bucky’s face was against your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin. You pulled away and lifted your hips just enough to slide down his jeans to expose his fully erect cock. Bucky was long and thick, the large veins that adorned him only added to your pleasure and the sight alone made your heart falter.

Your fingers traveled down his soft belly, tenderly kneading the body he was sometimes self-conscious about–that is, until you came along and told him how much you loved his belly and soft pecs. He had an amazing dad bod, soft and thick and perfectly cuddly. You loved to kiss down his chest while whispering sweet compliments to him and watching him blush. The rosiness of his cheeks was one of your favorite things and you'd do anything you could to get to see it.

Your fingers made their way to his cock and stroked him softly, gingerly sending tingles of pleasure through his body as he adjusted underneath you in anticipation. Bucky let out a guttural moan, it was meant to urge you to sit on his cock but you bit your lip with a smirk, wanting to tease him just a little longer.

"Baby…" he breathed out as your fingers got tighter around his cock. He adjusted again, unable to sit still as your thumb caressed his tip, smearing precum around the pink bulb before finally rubbing it against your slit. Bucky moaned at the contact with your wetness and lifted your hips up to slide himself down to your vagina. His grip tightened on your hips as you resisted his advances, teasing him by not allowing his eager cock entrance to your body. Bucky squeezed your skin, so desperate and needy, begging you to lower yourself onto him. The tip of his cock breached your entrance, just barely slipping through the tight threshold. Despite being dripping wet for the older man beneath you, his cock was still large and thick, stretching your vagina around it in a sheathlike hug. 

"Please baby," Bucky leaned forward to place his mouth on your shoulder, his graying beard scratching at your skin and his teeth biting into your flesh. "Please don't be a tease, I need you so much," he moaned against your body. Seeing him so undone, crumbling at the anticipation of making love to you, made you slide your body down onto his cock.

The sound he made as he was finally encased in your warmth was somewhere between a growl and a moan of relief. Bucky's eyes rolled to the back of his head as his hands slid up your body until he was grasping your back, holding you as close as possible against his chest. Your arms found their way around his head, one hand tucked firmly in his hair and the other gripping his shoulder in a strong, unbreakable embrace.

He began to thrust inside of you, slowly bucking his hips up as the cool spring air wisped across your skin. His movements were steady, short even strides as he felt all of you. His eyes remained closed as he took in how you felt around his cock, it was pure bliss. The wet, warm, tight embrace sliding over his veiny cock. He tried desperately to savor the moment without his rough, pleasure-driven impatience taking over his body. Sure, Bucky wanted to fuck the shit out of you, to feel you squirm over his cock, nails digging into his skin until he bled, your moans getting caught in your throat as you became overcome by pleasure. But he wanted to take a moment, feel every inch, enjoy every movement and moment of your perfect body on him. 

You kept your grip around him tight as he lengthened his strokes, lifting your body with his strong arms to allow his cock to nearly exit your vagina before being pushed back in until your ass was on his thick thighs again. You moaned against the top of his head, wanting so desperately to be closer to him. Bucky began to pick up the pace, breathy moans escaping his pink lips that turned to hungry pants of pleasure.

"Oh fuck baby girl, you feel so good," he praised you as you moaned against his soft hair. "You're so wet for me, so fucking perfect baby, you're so perfect," he grunted as he slammed into you hard and quick.

"Fuck, Bucky, oh fuck," your string of words began to include more and more profanities as he fucked harder, angling at just the right spot to hit you right where you needed it. The blanket that was around your hips was now pooled behind your ass, resting in a heap on his thighs, and the cold was long forgotten. 

"You're doing so good for me baby girl, look at you," Bucky managed to pull his body away just enough to admire your beauty. Your hands still held him but your arms allowed him to lean back just a bit. "You're taking my cock so well, such a good girl for me baby," you bit your lip as your face twisted in pleasure. Hearing his lustful voice praise you was enough to make you cum. 

"You fuck me so good, Bucky, please don't stop, p-please, please don't stop," your words could barely get out of your mouth as you watched his lips gape and steady moans fall out.

"I'm not gonna stop until you're cumming on my cock baby girl." Bucky meant it. He wanted nothing more than to make you feel the utmost pleasure every single time. But the sound of your moans getting higher and more erratic was sending him closer to the edge. Due to the spur-of-the-moment sex, Bucky wasn't wearing a condom, which meant in order to avoid the risk of pregnancy, he'd have to stop and change what he was doing if he wanted you to cum first. 

"Baby, I'm so close, fuck, you're gonna make me cum," he tried explaining without slowing his pace. He leaned his face against yours and tried to focus on your pleasure.

"I want you to cum first, I'm not gonna last, Y/N.” Bucky was desperate. Closing in on his own orgasm by the second and becoming sloppy, losing control over his climax.

Still leaned against your face, Bucky spoke softly as your lips rubbed against each other’s with each of his thrusts, “do you want me to eat you out baby? I’m so close, Y/N, too close,” he grunted, mere seconds away from spilling his warm seed inside of you. 

“Don’t move,” Bucky was taken aback by your words, he flashed his confused eyes to yours as he furrowed his brows, “I want you to cum in me, Bucky, I want to feel you fill me up.” The words barely had time to leave your mouth as he came, doing just as you asked. The idea of you being filled with his cum, being his, being one–it sent him over the edge. Bucky groaned as he thrust inside your beating vagina. The warmth of him, the sound of his moans, the way he looked in the orange tint of the flames, you couldn’t hold on any longer. You squeezed him tight, smashing your bodies together as you screamed out his name, pouring your own orgasm onto his sweaty body. 

“That’s it, baby, cum for me, fuck you’re so perfect,” Bucky encouraged until you were spent and laying lazily against him. He leaned back against the many pillows you had in the bed of his truck, pulling you against his chest and letting your breathing calm before turning you over and kissing your neck.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against your flesh, pulling your bare thigh up to his hip,

“let me,” he kissed down your clothed chest,

“show you,” his lips met your bare stomach, spending a little extra time there because he loved it so much,

“just how much I love you,” his mouth was on your thighs, sucking and kissing until his warm breath grazed over your exposed pussy. 

1:27 AM.

The red digital clock illuminated the dark wood of the nightstand it sat on, its dim light reaching the mattress just enough to see the edge covered halfway with a messy blanket. The dark room was cold, the air felt like the dull sting of a winter breeze being inhaled through sensitive nostrils, begging for warm relief. You watched the ceiling, the spinning shadow of the ceiling fan being cast across it by the light of the clock. The only other light in the room was the flashing green bulb of the smoke alarm on the ceiling. You listened to your surroundings; it was quiet, too quiet. It was missing the soft breathing of your partner, the rustling of his moving body in the bed, the peaceful sounds of the man you loved more than life itself–the man you begged to see every day. Begged the sky, your heart, the universe, the voice in your head, him in every letter you wrote but couldn’t send. Begged no one in particular and everyone at the same time.

The weight on your mind kept you in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, feeling the hurt creep across every inch of your skin. You felt numb, you didn’t have any thoughts, and tears couldn’t be produced anymore; you felt like a zombie just dragging through your mandatory daily tasks. You weren’t sure when the last time you cleaned was, or the last time you did laundry–you did know you were running out of clothes to put on, showing up to work in less and less fashionable combinations as the days passed. You weren’t even sure if you had eaten in the last three days. It didn’t feel like it. Your stomach churned as it shot sharp pains throughout your abdomen, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move. Letting your body feel the pain of hunger because it was the only thing you could feel anymore.

Your heavy eyelids dragged down, feeling as if they were being pulled by anchors, the dryness of your eyes stinging as your lids covered them. The only way you slept was from pure exhaustion. Your body physically fought against your mind to allow some rest, although it was never a relief. You never felt rejuvenated, just less exhausted, just enough to manage through work. You didn’t talk to anyone anymore, your transactions were silent and cold. The people at the market missed the warmth of your smile as you greeted them, the kids stopped hanging around, just dropped off their notes and art in hopes that you’d eventually see them. You never did. Not finding joy in the love of the town anymore. You felt like a ghost of yourself in the busy Bucharest crowd. A wanderer lost on the way to nowhere, standing in the middle of a sea of people but not being seen.

As the darkness crept into your mind, you were filled with your final thoughts of him. Another reason you couldn’t sleep, seeing his face in your dreams felt like a nightmare more than a blessing. The pain on his face, the sparking of his arm, the cry that fell from your lips that could shake the earth to its core. Maybe it was his cry. His eyes blurred from the waterfall of tears as he watched you fall to the ground. You couldn’t tell anymore, your screams blurred together until all you heard was anguish.

–One Month Earlier–

The gun in your hand was held steady and extended out in front of you, ready to fire at the first sign of danger as you traversed the concrete building. Bucky stood by your side, one eye occasionally looking through the scope of his rifle as you followed Steve, who had his shield up and made sure the coast was clear. The journey to this moment was less than ideal, an explosive fight at an airport that left more than a few of Steve’s “superfriends”, as you called them, bloodied and jailed. You had only gotten away from the fight with the help of the only familiar face, Nat, although Bucky protested you coming with him. He and Steve were super-soldiers, they could handle a group of genetically modified individuals. You, on the other hand, were just a normal human. No serum, no super strength, just an impressive skill set that didn’t help much to prevent you from being crushed to death by the muscle of the people you were looking for there. Clearly, Bucky didn’t know you well enough to know that his protests were falling on deaf ears.

Siberia was cold and snowy, which left a trail of wet footprints from the three of you. Unfortunately, Zemo had a long enough headstart that his prints were dried, leaving you to rely on the sounds echoing through the facility. Bucky would periodically look over to you, your quiet figure so stealthy he needed to check that you were still beside him. It gave him a weird feeling, seeing you in your full gear, weapons and all. It was a stark difference from Bucharest. He knew from your scar-littered body that you had a past, one that was a struggle to discuss, but he never imagined it’d be this. An assassin. So similar to him, yet so out-of-place for the woman he thought he knew. He wasn’t complaining, it was nice that he could feel some sort of relief in the shared occupation, but it also worried him. His love for you would never waver, but he wondered how much you’d done, who you were before, if you were still active, if you felt remorse like he did. You still had your things, but did you still take contracts? Who did you work for? He was insatiably curious and just wanted this whole Zemo thing to be over with so he could finally sit down and discuss things with you. This wasn’t how he wanted to find out about your past, and it wasn’t how he wanted to tell you about his.

You looked at Bucky too. Not to check if he was there, the whirring of his metal arm was a comfortable reminder that he was still with you, but you watched him in this new manner. In Romania, he was soft, gentle, kind, and timid. Here he was hard, scared, and on edge. Seeing him with his arm exposed, gun in hand, made your heart hurt for him. Sure, he always seemed like he wanted more than a quiet little orchard life, but he didn’t want this. Guns and fighting. You didn’t know how much of this life he wanted, but you knew he still wanted you. You could see it in his eye, and it relieved you.

A loud thud echoed in the room from behind you, prompting the three of you to whip around, guns ready. Steve got in front of you with his shield and knelt down as you aimed just over his shoulder. Bucky was behind you on a step, his rifle next to your arm and the warmth of his body gliding over your back. No one moved as you listened to the door creak, someone on the other side finding their way through the metal. You held your breath as the door began to part, waiting for the danger to come through. You weren’t sure if you were hoping it was Zemo or the other Winter Soldiers, both had their pros and cons. Bucky and Steve still didn’t know about your connection to Zemo, it was one piece of information you preferred to keep to yourself. However, you weren’t sure how you were going to handle it when you did come face-to-face with him. He was your boss, your mentor since you were a child; he trained you and practically raised you. You felt loyal to him even despite your hatred for this life.

You heard Bucky tighten his grip on the handle of his gun, the leather on his flesh hand squeaking softly as it rubbed against it. The seam of the door was pushed open allowing a bright light to shine through. You watched as red metal hands pried the metal apart and Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit stepped into the room. You and Bucky stayed firm in your positions, not trusting Stark after the all-out war you just had at the airport, which left you with more than a few bruises. Steve, however, lowered his shield and stood up, taking a few steps toward Tony.

“You seem a little defensive,” Stark said after opening his helmet to reveal his bruised face.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve responded, eyeing Tony to anticipate his next move. Bucky moved to stand in front of you, acting as a shield for your normal-human body. You let out a small huff in protest, despite being weaker and more prone to death, you still wanted to protect Bucky and that meant you’d take a bullet for him if it came down to it. Bucky exhaled deeply in response, an unspoken argument about who would protect who. Tony looked up at the two of you with your guns still on him, ready to make a split-second decision. Your blood was boiling more than anyone there knew. According to Zemo, Tony was still trying to kill Bucky, and you still had your assignment to assassinate Stark. You couldn’t do it there, not in front of Steve and Bucky, especially when Tony didn’t give you a reason to fire. But you knew that you’d have to do it eventually.

“At ease soldier, I’m not currently after you,” Tony directed his voice to Bucky, who only squinted and steadied his gun. On the jet to Siberia, Steve gave you the story of how this whole mess of a situation started. Zemo, or “the Doctor” as they only knew him, had blown up the UN to flush Bucky out of hiding. That’s why he was talking to him at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, he wanted information about the other Winter Soldiers that were created after Bucky. That’s why you were in Siberia, you needed to find the soldiers before Zemo could control them to do his bidding. It made sense to you, super-soldiers would make incredible assassins for Zemo’s business. He always wanted the best in the world to take out people who thought they were so high above everyone else they could do whatever they wanted. He hated people in power who abused it, that’s why all of your missions were people with an insane amount of power and all the wrong intentions.

But it was because of Zemo’s plan that Bucky was on the radar for Tony, he thought he was responsible for the deaths of all the people at the UN. At the fight at the airport, Steve tried to convince Stark that it wasn’t him, but he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t give up until he had Bucky taken in, dead or alive. And that’s what kept you fueled to complete your mission. You were willing to let it go, but Stark wasn’t. Little did he know, he was signing his death certificate because of his pride.

You still had your gun aimed at Tony, both you and Bucky were unmoved until he motioned to the two of you standing there like predators.

“You guys can relax, there’s a truce here,” he rolled his eyes. Steve motioned for you to lower your weapons and you did so reluctantly, and only after Bucky had lowered his, trusting Steve more than you did. After deciding to find Zemo together, the four of you continued to explore the large building. You hung in the back to keep an eye on Tony, plotting when you would take your chance to kill him, deciding how to do it, wondering if Bucky would ever forgive you.

You entered a large room with several cryostasis chambers. As Tony scanned the room, he registered only one heat signature, despite the various chambers filled with the super-soldiers. Walking around the room, you looked at each person whose tanks were now lit and illuminated their dead bodies. Shit. Zemo didn’t want to use the soldiers, he wanted them dead. Knowing him, that meant bad news for the three men you were with.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” Zemo’s voice echoed through the room, prompting everyone to look around for him. As he walked, Bucky reached out one hand down beside him, motioning for you to stay close to him. You brushed your hip against his outstretched fingers until he hummed softly, feeling your cold body close to him. He put his hand back on his rifle and slowly inched through the room, making sure to keep you safe. You stayed by his side, not knowing what Zemo could do next, and not trusting Stark.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo’s voice echoed again. A light switched on at the end of the room, revealing Zemo’s form standing behind a window. Steve instinctively threw his shield at him, hoping to stop whatever he was planning but Zemo just chuckled.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets,” he explained through his speaker. You and Bucky hung back, watching Steve walk straight toward Zemo’s window and Tony circling around, guns ready to fire.

“I guess I should explain why you are here, hm?” his voice was cocky like his plan was falling perfectly into place. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest in fear of what he was going to say, the anticipation of your real plan being revealed had your stomach-turning. Steve stood right in front of Zemo, watching him like a hawk, waiting for his next words and analyzing the situation to figure out how to get to him.

“I was a Baron in Sokovia. Though, I had business all over the world,” Zemo flashed his eyes to you which made you tense up, gritting your teeth together and hoping he wouldn’t mention your name, “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. But–” he paused, swallowing hard at the next words.

“You lost someone?” Steve interrupted, eyes softening the slightest bit in remorse and pity.

“I lost everyone.” Zemo corrected, trying desperately to suppress the tears that tried to well up in his brown eyes. “And so will you.” A nearby computer turned on, playing a video of a street cam. The four of you gathered to the screen and watched it. Tony immediately recognized the street, yelling for an explanation. As soon as Bucky saw the video play, he dropped his head, stepping back from the group and holding back tears of his own. You watched him shrink into himself, Bucky cowering under the exterior of the Winter Soldier as his past was being brought to life on video. Furrowing your brows, you took a step toward him which only made him step back again. Just like the night of your party when he met your friends. He became small and panicked, emotions running wild as he tried to keep his composure. You wanted to comfort him but he wouldn’t let you.

In the video, a car crashed and a man on a motorcycle circled back around it before picking up the driver from the ground and punching him until he was dead. You flinched as you watched it, normally you wouldn’t, you’d killed your fair share of people in much worse ways, but this was different. This was Bucky. He went around to the passenger side, choking the woman inside the car until she lay lifeless against the dashboard.

Tony immediately lunged at Bucky, his emotions running wild as he witnessed the murder of his parents. You lifted your gun and aimed it at him, ready to shoot on the spot. Bucky flinched back, raising his rifle reluctantly as Steve stopped Tony from going any further. As Cap tried to reason with him, Bucky glanced at you. Shame riddled his face as tears slipped from his eyes. God, what you must think of him. It hurt him more than anything to have you witness what he’d done, seeing him with no remorse and no hesitation on that video. He felt like a monster and could only imagine that you viewed him as one. But you didn’t. You knew that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the Bucky you built a relationship with, that wasn’t who he was; that was the Winter Soldier.

Tony stepped back, processing the moment but no one let their guard down. You all knew he wouldn’t let it go, and he didn’t, he immediately shot at Bucky, pushing Steve away and putting his helmet back on. You dodged out of the way as Tony blasted more beams from his repulsors, trying to kill Bucky in a rage. You rolled on the cold ground, getting behind Stark and shooting into his back. His suit made it impossible to stop him, you quickly found out it was bulletproof and would need to find another way to slow him down.

The shots to his back made him turn around to face you, blasting another ray in your direction, not caring who he killed. One shot from his repulsor and you’d be dead–all the more reason to disable it somehow. You yelled out as you jumped from its path, tucking and rolling out of sight as you hid behind an old control panel. Zemo still stood behind his window, watching the chaos ensue with a smirk. You furrowed your brows at him, hurt that he didn’t care who survived in the room, namely you. Steve threw his shield at Tony and it bounced off of him, knocking him back. The shield made its way back to Steve’s grasp and was followed by another deadly blast from Stark.

“Tony, stop! You’re going to kill someone,” Steve pleaded, quickly glancing at you then Bucky, who was gathering himself from being knocked down.

“He killed my mom, you’re going to have to kill me to stop me, Rogers,” Tony seethed, momentarily pausing his attacks. Zemo tsked, drawing their attention to his smirking face.

“Ah, but you don’t have it in you to kill, do you, Captain? That’s why she’s here.” Zemo’s thick accent ran chills across your skin as he looked you dead in the eyes, standing from your hiding spot, gun in hand and jaw clenched. The three men in the room with you all turned to face you, each with different expressions. Steve looked like a confused puppy, disbelief spread across his face as he was told your connection to Zemo. Tony just looked angry and upset, realizing just how much more of an enemy you were to him. But Bucky, Bucky was crushed. His heart raced a million miles a second as he became flooded with more emotions than he thought possible. He didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know what to say, or how to process the information. Were you really just there to kill them? Was all of it a lie? Why didn’t you tell him about Zemo?

“Buck…” you spoke softly, not caring about the other two men. Bucky choked back another sob, shaking his head slightly and blinking away tears. “It’s not what you think, I promise,”

“You’re working for him?” Steve questioned, his voice stern and confused.

“Not-not necessarily,” you didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t have time to go over the whole story, not that it would matter much anyway, they wouldn’t believe you, and based on the events of the night, you’d still be eliminating Tony if he didn’t stop his attack on Bucky.

“Nice friends you got here, Rogers,” Stark broke the silence and sent a blast directly to Steve. He blocked it with his shield and looked at you, but you had run off after Tony.

Bucky was caught in Stark’s grasp, being dragged across the ground as he desperately tried to fight him off. You leaped onto his back, wrapping an arm around his throat, and attempted to pull him back. Tony stumbled and released Bucky before throwing you across the room and being knocked away himself by Steve’s shield. Bucky got up, rushing over to you worried about your condition. The truth coming out didn’t stop him caring about you, and he knew all about circumstances needing explanations. You’d stuck by him through everything, the least he could do was give you the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a panic as you groaned, your head starting to bleed from where it made contact with a pole. You just shook your head yes, slowly getting up and holding onto Bucky. Steve kept Tony busy while you ran away to the exit. The debris of the crumbling building swept through the air, stinging your eyes with dust and making you cough as you tried to find your way through it. Zemo was long gone, not wanting to stay behind to see the aftermath of his plan. Trusting that you’d still kill Tony, and Tony would kill both Steve and Bucky.

“Can you jump?” Bucky asked as he opened the large hatch on the ceiling. You looked up at the tall platforms leading to the roof–to the outside. Shit. You sighed, it was a long way to the top.

“Yeah, I can get up there,” you unhooked a small device from your belt. A mini grappling hook with enough strength to pull your body up to each platform. Bucky watched as you latched onto the first tier and flew through the air until you flipped onto the metal grate. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile as he watched you effortlessly fling yourself to another platform.

A blast from Tony shook Bucky from his thoughts, dodging out of the way as he jumped and climbed the platforms himself. Steve was right behind Stark, trying desperately to fight him off and slow him down so that the two of you could escape but Tony blasted the shield away, leaving Steve with just his strength. Tony, now struggling with a damaged suit, aimed to fire at Bucky who was nearing you at the top of the room. His targeting system was too damaged to lock onto Bucky’s moving form, allowing him to reach the roof with you. You sat on the ledge, reaching your hand out to Bucky to grab to hoist himself up, but just as he reached for you, a single blast came flying through the air and made contact with the open hatch. Bucky grabbed your body and cradled it as you fell with the destroyed structure, now trapped inside.

You fell down a few platforms, grunting as you slammed into Bucky’s body that made contact with the metal floor. He lost his grasp on you and you rolled away, almost off the edge before catching yourself. Bucky groaned and immediately got eyes on you to make sure you were okay, which you were, you were a hell of a lot tougher than he thought. As you collected yourself, Tony flew up to your platform and tried attacking Bucky, who swung a pole at him. You jumped on Stark’s back and unsheathed your knife, stabbing into the creases of his suit to try and sever something. You heard him groan through his helmet and as you pulled the knife from the groove of his shoulder, it was covered in blood. You stabbed through again, and again, until he was too distracted to shoot at Bucky. Tony tried shaking you off, flinging your body from side to side in an attempt to get you to let go, but you held on, driving the knife further into his shoulder. Finally, Tony grabbed a hold of Bucky and let himself fall down the tall shaft. Steve jumped onto the three of you and pulled your weight faster, crashing you down hard to the concrete floor.

You yelled out in pain as your hip slammed the ground. Yup, definitely broken, fuck. You rolled to try and get some relief, unable to focus on anything but the sharp shattering pain shooting through your body. Bucky had rolled down further than you and laid there for a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile, Steve had resumed fighting Tony and was pinned underneath him as the suited-man threw punches. The new location was freezing, arches in the building led to the outside and brought in the snowy breeze, chilling your body to its core. You tried to focus on anything but your leg, but the pain of the cold felt just as bad. The sounds of the men fighting made you crawl to the edge of the floor, you were a little higher up than them and watched as Steve and Bucky traded the shield back and forth, trying desperately to knock Tony down.

Despite your hip, you couldn’t lay there and watch, you had to do something. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to the edge, sliding down the steep platform before crying out in pain when your heels hit the ground, jolting your hip. You reached into your boot and pulled out a small device in the shape of a star, with the press of a button it lit up and you tossed it onto Stark’s right arm. Immediately it zapped and shut down all systems in his arm making it unusable. He whipped his head around to look at you and Bucky took the chance to pin him against the wall, clawing at the arc reactor in his chest in an attempt to disable him. You tried to stand up, feeling like your hip would shatter even more under the pressure but needing to help Bucky.

As you slowly limped over, Tony blasted a beam from his chest, shooting off Bucky’s metal arm, leaving behind burnt sizzling wires. You screamed, falling to your knees beside him as he gasped for air. Despite the arm being metal, he could feel every single thing that happened to it, which made your heart ache for him that much more.

“Bucky? Bucky, hey, look at me,” you held his face as blood poured down his cheeks, the light going out in his eyes as he struggled to stay awake, “listen to me, I need you to stay awake okay? I love you so much, Bucky, please stay awake for me. I’m so sorry, god, I’m so sorry,” your tears dripped down onto his face, streaking through the blood. Bucky’s eyes were on you, he never let go of your gaze but he couldn’t speak, the pain was too overwhelming for him to manage words.

“I need you to know I never meant for this to happen, I thought I was just doing a job, I didn’t want this. He-he said Tony was going to hurt you, Buck, I didn’t want back in this life. I just want you, I just want to take you back to Bucharest, pick plums with you again, remember the market? We could run the stand together, Buck,” you were trying so hard to keep his attention, keep his eyes open and on you. You weren’t even aware of your surroundings anymore, it was just you and Bucky. All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your ribs. It took you by surprise, the adrenaline of your panic over Bucky numbed it for a moment, until you looked down to see Bucky’s eyes wide with horror as a beam of light ripped through your ribcage.

“Buck?” you couldn’t even scream. The pain was so overwhelming that you could only manage his name before you fell over, lying unconscious next to Bucky. Bucky’s scream of anguish ripped through your subconscious as he watched you pass out. He thought you died. Your lifeless body lay on the cold ground with a searing hole through one side of your ribs.

That was the last thing you remembered. When you woke up, you were laid up in a hospital bed, thick bandages wrapped tightly around your ribcage as you struggled to breathe. The soft beeping of your monitor was the only sound you could hear as you groggily shifted in bed. No one was around, not even a nurse. You heard the monitor’s beep pick up pace as you remembered Bucky, concern for him replaced every feeling you felt for yourself. You were frantic to find him, find out what happened to him.

A doctor finally came into the room and calmed you down, telling you to take it easy so you don’t open your sutures. You calmed down enough to notice that she wasn’t a regular doctor, her attire was odd. A lab coat with a tech logo on it, glasses that you could see had a camera right in the middle of the frames, and on her clipboard were blueprints and mechanics to some sort of device. Before you had time to question her, she handed you a small card.

“Someone left this for you,” she motioned to a bouquet of flowers sitting on the bedside table. You opened the card, weakly thumbing over the scribbled ink as you tried to adjust your eyes to read it.

He’s gone. Take care of yourself, Y/N. -Steve.

You felt your heart fall to the floor, tears immediately pouring from your eyes as you uncontrollably sobbed. The sutures ripped open, causing you to bleed onto your mattress but you didn’t care. Bucky was gone. Your Bucky was gone. Zemo was right. Tony Stark was going to kill him and you failed your mission to protect him.

–Present Day–

1:27 AM.

Your eyes dragged closed, finally allowing the exhaustion to take over your body. The soft clack of the ceiling fan chains rhythmically lulled you to sleep, darkening your mind as the nothingness washed over you. Slumber, sweet, sweet, sleep. Your breathing calmed down as you fell into the black void of your unconscious. A few moments passed as you rested, mind on nothing, no dreams ever visited you anymore, just the images of Bucky lying on the ground with no arm, screaming out to you as you fell to the ground. As the first flash of Bucky’s pain-filled face appeared in your mind, you shot your eyes open, jolting up from the bed and sitting up in the dark in realization.

Gone.

The police sirens and loud revving of speeding cars filled the tunnel as you sped down it on your motorcycle. Your duffle bags left behind and forgotten, only weapons you could strap to your body accompanied you as you chased the commotion. You spotted a man with wings, one in a blue skin-tight suit in a car, and another in a catsuit on foot chasing after Bucky as he ran down the busy tunnel. Who the hell were these people? Dating a man with a metal arm was looking more and more normal as you spotted each man following him.

You twisted your right handlebar toward you, revving the engine that vibrated through your body as you sped up, hoping to get to him before the others did. A few cop cars were gaining on Bucky, almost hitting him from behind. You swerved between cars driving the opposite direction as you unhooked a small explosive from your boot, tossing it across the barrier that separated you and the men chasing Bucky. It rolled and exploded underneath one of the cop cars, causing it to fly in the air and create a block in the road.

“What the hell was that?!” the man with wings spoke into his earpiece, causing the one in the car to look in your direction. He spotted you and furrowed his brows confused, unsure who you were and why you were mixed up in the police chase.

“I don’t know but it can’t be good,” he turned his attention back to the road ahead of him. You were listening on an earpiece of your own, one similar to your radio at home that connected to nearby communication systems. Nothing they said gave away who they were, so you could only assume they meant harm to Bucky.

Just as you were gaining on Bucky, he grabbed a motorcycle from an oncoming driver and hopped on it, speeding away even faster. You cursed as you navigated your way through the traffic You watched the man in a catsuit hook himself on the man with wings, struggling to stay on as he kicked at him. Bucky threw something at the roof of the tunnel and it exploded, collapsing it onto the road. A subtle glint of amusement shone in your eyes as you watched him use a similar method of destruction and transportation as yourself–you really were meant for each other.

The winged man stopped abruptly, flinging the other guy off of him and through the falling rubble. The man in the car jumped from the driver's door and ran after them as they rolled across the ground. What is this? A fucking action movie? You skirted to a stop in the distance, the smell of burnt rubber and the dust from the fallen debris of the tunnel filling your nostrils as you watched the police surround the men. As much as you wanted to go to Bucky, you knew you’d be no help to him if you got arrested as well.

Several officers pulled guns and yelled at them before one in a large metal suit flew in and landed near them with his hands extended into weapons. What the hell, Bucky? You remained in the shadows as you watched Bucky let them take him into custody, strapping him into a windowed box and treating him like an animal. The man in blue seemed concerned with his treatment as if he cared about him. Regardless, the only person you were sure you could trust there was Bucky.

You tailed them through Romania to Berlin, following behind a long line of police vehicles transporting the men to a secure location. Bucky seemed resigned as if he knew this day would come and he didn’t want to fight it. It broke your heart to see him like that, reserved and quietly taking whatever they dished out to him. You just wanted to bring him back to safety, take him somewhere far away and start again in another country, together. However, the looming threat of Tony Stark was still in the forefront of your mind, were these men taking him to Stark? What was their plan?

Once you arrived at a large facility, they disappeared into a garage. You cursed to yourself, unable to follow them in without being noticed. Turning down the side of the building, you examined it for any other entrances and analyzed their security. You pulled out a compact computer-like system from your jacket and when you opened it, it booted up a blue and black screen, logging into a high-tech database before it scanned the vicinity. Information popped up about the building’s structure and defenses. It was heavily guarded, definitely a location they didn’t want anyone to get into. The computer beeped and highlighted all the entrances with pulsing dots. With a few clicks of a button, information showed up on the screen about which ones were the least protected. You shut the device and shoved it back in your pocket, digging through the compartment on your motorcycle to find a disguise. You put on a lanyard with a fake nametag and walked toward the entrance with your head down, hoping no one would question whether or not you belonged.

You slipped into a fairly public area of the building, going unnoticed as you entered the restroom and pulled your device out again. It lit up a pathway through the vents to where Bucky was being held. When the coast was clear, you stood on the back of a toilet and unscrewed the vent on the ceiling, before pulling yourself up into it. The vent was a tight squeeze, your bulky shoulders pressed against the metal sides as you slid your body through the vent hoping it wasn’t making too much noise. The sound of your weapons rattled against the metal with each tug of your body, causing you to mentally curse to yourself. Vents, it always has to be fucking vents.

You came to a grate and peered through it, seeing two men speaking to each other in angry tones. One of them was the man in the car that was chasing Bucky, now in plain clothes. As you got a closer look, you realized that it was Steve Rogers. Captain America. You had seen the news about him forever; America’s hero, war vet, and 100 years old. What ties he had with Bucky, you weren’t sure. The other man sat in a chair, seemingly trying to convince Steve of something. As you got a more focused look at him, you clenched up, tightening your jaw, eyes burning with fire. It was Tony Stark. The Tony Stark that was supposedly going to kill Bucky.

You twisted onto your side slowly, careful not to make any sound as you reached for the pistol on your hip. Steve had stormed out of the room and stood off watching some monitors with some other people. You were left alone with Tony. You eyed around the room, looking for anyone that would take immediate notice if Stark fell out of his chair. The gun in your hand was cold, an unwelcome feeling as it weighed heavily on your skin and mind. A long silencer sat at its end and slipped effortlessly through the grate of the vent as you aimed it toward the man in the chair. You watched him for a moment more, hesitating to so easily slip back into your old ways. But Bucky’s face flashed in your head. The way he tucked his face into his pillow when you woke up him, his quiet and deep hum when you kissed his soft lips, his silky hair between your fingers as you pulled it into a bun–you had no choice but to do it, you couldn’t let anyone take Bucky away from you.

Just as your finger applied pressure to the trigger, the lights in the building went out. Tony flew from his chair and left the room in a panic. Shit. You pulled the gun back against your chest and threw your head back in frustration. Hearing the commotion echo through the vents, you shoved your gun back into its holster and shimmied your way to an exit.

You finally came above the room where Bucky was being kept and saw him leave. He seemed different, angry, and fighting anyone in his path. You kicked out the vent grate and it rattled against the floor. The doctor in the room that was speaking to Bucky jumped, startled as he stepped back against the wall. You jumped down from the ceiling, landing on your feet with a thud, and looked up at him.

“Helmut?” you spoke stunned. What the hell was he doing here? Before you could ask any more questions, Steve came running into the room. You hid out of the way, slipping into the dark corner of the room while he pushed your boss against the wall, focusing his attention on him while you sneak out the door.

Whatever was going on couldn’t have been good. Why was Zemo talking to Bucky? How was Captain America tied into this? And Tony? Why did he want Bucky dead? You stifled the questions as you ran through the carnage caused by Bucky, lifeless bodies laid out across the floor of each room you passed through until you spotted him in a fight. He punched Tony across the room, flinging his body through the tables and chairs that sat around empty–previously filled with employees on their breaks, now scattered in heaps and broken chunks. Bucky was carefree. He looked out of place, unlike the soft and timid Bucky you had known in Bucharest.

You followed him as he fought two women who came into the mix, assisting him in fighting them off. You swung at the redhead who tried to attack Bucky from behind as the blonde kicked him. The force of your swing left a whooshing sound in its wake as you made contact with her face. She punched back, clipping your jaw and forcing you to fumble backward. After more blocked kicks and punches, you had her pinned down by the throat against a table. It was then that she saw you clearly, eyes falling open wide as she relaxed her body, letting her guard down.

“Y/N?” Fuck. It was Natasha. The same Natasha that you worked with for two years, going undercover, working big jobs, and doing the dirty work for. The thing about her was that she still had a conscience when it came to killing people, you didn’t–at the time at least. You were always the one who would use a knife to kill, Nat liked to be at a range, using a silenced gun made it feel less real for her. Like it was a game instead. But you, you liked the closeness. The feeling of the knife going in, it made it feel final. Like you had done the job right. That’s what you were taught. “Never leave a loose end” was the mantra that was drilled into you during training, it was the mantra you spoke in your mind when you had to take the life of someone who had accidentally witnessed something.

“Nat?” you loosened your grip, allowing her to gasp as she tried to catch her breath. You looked at her, you hadn’t seen her in years and now here you were fighting.

“What the hell is going on here?” you scoffed out before whipping your head around to see Bucky rolling down the stairs, immediately standing to fight off another person. Nat sat up, drawing your attention back to her for a moment.

“How do you know Bucky?” she asked, rubbing her throat.

“How do you?” you asked back, suspicious that she may have been hired by Tony to assassinate Bucky. Before she could answer, you heard Bucky yell. Turning to look, you saw him fall over the railing of the stairs and disappear. You ran over to look for him, yelling out his name but he was gone.

“Shit!” you yelled, swiftly walking back over to Nat. “Nat, what the fuck is happening here?!” you demanded, pressing her up against the wall.

“He’s not Bucky right now, he’s the Winter Soldier, we’re trying to help him,” you looked at her confused. Winter Soldier? You had no idea who that was, maybe you’d been living in the shadows too long.

“What do you mean?” you questioned and she cocked her head at you.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” she sighed, immediately picking up the nature of your relationship from your body language. Nat began to explain Bucky’s history, that he was born in 1917, Hydra taking him and turning him into the Winter Soldier, and what they were doing with him there. You didn’t know if you could trust her, the stuff about his past, yeah it made sense, that was probably true. But if she was meant to kill Bucky, she wouldn’t offer that piece of information. So you still had your doubts about his safety. It wasn’t long after that you heard a large crash outside. It sounded like something hitting the roof of the building then splashing into a body of water. You ran outside to investigate, leaving Nat and the carnage of The Winter Soldier behind.

Outside you saw a helicopter sinking into the water next to the building, blades broken and debris following the wreckage. Bucky…you looked around the area, searching for any sign of him, desperate for him to appear. He was nowhere to be found. You could only assume he was in the water, sinking with the helicopter and trapped. You prepared to dive in, hoping to find him alive and get him to safety, but one last glance around the area showed you two men popping out of the water in the distance. It was Bucky and Steve. A sigh of relief left your body as you followed them, sneaking around so that you weren’t followed by the gathering police.

“Uh, Cap,” Sam Wilson called out. You had a knife to his back in an abandoned warehouse, a private location that he and Steve had brought Bucky to. The man with wings from the tunnel, known as Sam Wilson or the Falcon as your computer read. One scan and you had his entire personnel file in front of you. You had watched Steve bring Bucky into the building, trapping him between a metal press so that he didn’t escape–so he couldn’t use his metal arm.

Steve turned around from his lookout position, slowly walking over to you with his hands up, hoping to deescalate the situation. You watched him as he got closer, Sam turning his head slightly to look at you in the corner of his eye. You pushed the knife into his back, alerting Sam to keep his gaze forward, warning him not to try anything. One stab and it would be over, you had complete control over the situation and you wanted answers.

“Hey, let’s relax, okay? I’m Steve, who are you?” he asked softly, stopping a few feet away from you. You squint your eyes at him, unsure just how much information you wanted to share, but they didn’t appear to hurt Bucky. In fact, Steve had saved him from the water.

“Y/N. What are you doing with Bucky?” you answered sharply. Steve furrowed his brows.

“Protecting him. What are you doing with Bucky? I saw you in Bucharest, you followed him here, he must mean something to you.” He had an authoritative voice, strong and commanding, leaderlike. He was Captain America after all.

“Protecting him.” you mirrored with a cock of your head.

“Alright, seeing as we’re all trying to protect Bucky, can you get the knife out of my back?” Sam questioned with annoyance. You looked at Steve, then Sam, then Bucky who began to stir. With a sigh, you dropped the knife, still holding it firmly in your hand as you backed away from the men. Sam grumbled a quiet “thanks” and turned around to face you. He hadn’t even seen you walk up, you just materialized behind him and he didn’t like that. You were quiet and menacing.

“Steve?” Bucky spoke softly causing the three of you to look at him. Steve walked over to him, Sam keeping his gaze on you with narrowed eyes.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Bucky hesitated, slowly looking up at the man in front of him.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes,” Bucky chuckled low, it sounded pained, a harsh remembrance. You moved toward him, wanting to comfort him but Sam sidestepped and watched you, cautious about your behavior.

“Relax, Birdman,” your voice made Bucky’s stomach drop. He was crushed that you were there, hoping that maybe he was just dazed and it wasn’t you. But he looked up through his messy hair, eyes trailing the length of your body, black outfit with weapons strapped to it. He met your eyes and immediately looked away, tears forming as he sat in a crumbled mess before you. His worst fear. His past haunting him and bringing you into it, for you to see him as the Winter Soldier.

“Y/N…” his voice was broken, such a soft whisper that it broke your heart. Disregarding the other two men in the room, you made your way to Bucky, kneeling before him and lifting his chin with your gloved hand. He kept his eyes closed for a moment until you ran your thumb across his bottom lip and nudged his chin.

“Buck,” God. Your voice was so soft when you spoke to him, still free of any judgment. He expected to hear fear, disgust, something broken and final, a hint of you wanting to leave him–but it wasn’t there. Even in that state, you still spoke to him with such care and overwhelming love.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” he said, averting his eyes again. He looked embarrassed, defeated.

“And you were supposed to take me out to dinner,” you chuckled softly. A smile graced his face for a moment. Steve and Sam shared a look of confusion and a glimmer of proudness. Bucky had himself a little girlfriend. They couldn’t help but smirk, stifling it before it could be seen.

“I think there’s a lot we need to discuss, Bucky, but right now we seem to have bigger issues,” you nodded to the two men watching over you. Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up, seeing their concerned gaze.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, sitting up a little straighter. You stood, standing next to him with your legs making contact, a gesture of comfort for Bucky.

“Enough,” Steve said. Bucky groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as you placed a hand softly on his shoulder. Steve questioned Bucky about the man who visited him earlier, seeking out information about what he wanted. You kept quiet as you listened, trying to decipher the situation. The doctor they spoke about wasn’t a doctor at all, he was your boss, the one who sent you here in the first place. What you couldn’t figure out was why. Why did he speak to Bucky? Why was he interested in the other Winter Soldiers in Siberia? Tony Stark was still considered a threat and seeing these men in hiding seemed to prove the point that Stark couldn’t be trusted. It didn’t make sense that Zemo would visit Bucky if he was trying to get you to kill Tony. While it seemed like you would be forming a reluctant pack with Captain America and the Falcon, you figured it was best to keep your true motives and connection to Zemo a secret.

Bucky winced as he adjusted his arm, still stuck under the metal press. You ran your hand over his left shoulder, gently massaging it.

“Hey, now that you guys are all buddied up, could you release his arm?” you said sternly. It wasn’t a request and they could tell. Steve helped Bucky out of it and stood against the wall, discussing things with Sam.

“Hey,” you whispered to Bucky, tugging at his right sleeve to get him to stand up. He followed you to the corner of the room, Steve’s eyes on the two of you to make sure you didn’t run off. Bucky turned his back to him, blocking his view of you and his face. You gently brushed your fingers against his scruffy cheek, tenderness in your eyes as you looked at his bloody face.

“I love you, Buck,” you said softly. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip as it quivered. Bucky pressed his forehead against yours and returned the statement in a low breath.

“Y/N, I don’t know why you still love me after all this. You saw what I did, you’re better off-” you shut him up with a quick kiss. A kiss that was discrete and soft but filled with enough love for a lifetime.

“Bucky, look at me, you’re worried about your past? I’m the last person to judge,” he looked at you, fully taking in your attire. Each weapon, even the ones that were mostly concealed and could be missed upon first glance. It was a stark difference from the baggy flannel and t-shirts you would wear around Bucharest, tending to your orchard and running your stand at the market. The black suit hugged your round body and allowed for stealth, and sliding through vents, apparently.

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” he joked, placing a large hand on your ribs. Fingers slotting between your soft rolls.

“Well, I ran into an old acquaintance, she kind of gave me the lowdown on your situation. Just a bit,” you smiled. He furrowed his brows at you.

“An old acquaintance?”

“Nat, we kind of…go way back. She told me about the 40s? Didn’t realize I was dating such an old man,” you teased lightly, hoping to lift his mood a little, unsure how he’d feel about you knowing about his past.

“I didn’t realize I was dating a…ninja,” he chuckled, rubbing his thumb over your outfit. You scoffed out a small laugh.

“Ninja? Assassin, thank you very much. Not that I’m proud of it, but still,” you shrugged. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Words didn’t need to be said, you could see it in your eyes. The love, the understanding, the bond. It was unbreakable. At least, as long as you could get to Stark before he got to Bucky. You weren’t sure how Bucky would feel afterward, knowing that you killed someone on purpose, he wasn’t supposed to know, but it seemed like he was mixed up in his own shit with Stark and you wouldn’t be able to get away with it in secret.

“We need to go,” Steve called out to the two of you. Bucky inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours again to ground himself.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispered. Your heart broke for him, you couldn’t help but reach around his body and pull him into a hug. Sam and Steve shot their eyebrows up as they watched, rubbing the back of their necks awkwardly as they waited for the lovey-dovey shit to end.

“Then don’t, I’m with you till the end Buck, I trust you,” you pressed your face into his broad chest. His arms found their way around your body, squeezing you close.

“Afterward, we can talk about our pasts in depth. There’s a lot of shit about me that you need to know. I haven’t been a good person, Bucky,” you choked up, feeling the weight heavy on your shoulders, fearful that he’d leave after he knew everything. Everything. God. It was such a long history of crap.

“Obviously, neither have I,” he pulled away and held your face in his hands, “I’m with you till the end, right?” your eyes welled up with tears. He drew you into a kiss, deep and reassuring. Reassuring himself that he had you. Reassuring himself that he could do this. Reassuring himself that he was Bucky. Not the Winter Soldier.

“Ugh!” you slammed the door shut to the quaint apartment you shared with Bucky Barnes, heels clicking against the hardwood floor that smelled like fresh lemon.

“Hey! Don’t track in any dirt, I just mopped,” Bucky said from his position on the couch. He laid lazily across the emerald green sofa, one long leg dangling off the side and the other propped against the armrest. His metal arm was tucked under his head as he watched TV. You only huffed, the dirt on your shoes was the least of your worries as you made your way to him.

You tossed your purse into the mustard-colored armchair that sat adjacent to the couch, the metal chain strap pulling it to the ground with a rattled clink. Bucky watched the purse settle in a pile; wallet, phone, and keys spilling out of it as you press your knees to the end of the couch where his foot lay. With another huff, you leaned forward, letting gravity pull your body down with a thud and a forced exhale of breath from Bucky as you made contact with him. His metal arm immediately went to your shoulders, lightly caressing your exposed skin.

“Bad date?” he asked as he massaged your shoulders, allowing you to melt into his touch and warmth.

“Awful. Absolutely fucking atrocious.” you pressed your face into his chest, smearing your makeup across his dark shirt. Brown foundation stained the fabric but you didn’t care, neither did he. He’d let you ruin every shirt he owned if it meant he could be close to you, to comfort his best friend when they needed it.

“I’m sorry, you always have me,” Bucky grinned at you cheesily. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you looked up at him. His blue eyes crinkled, rosy nose scrunched up and white teeth baring down at your messy face.

“I love you, Buck,” you planted a soft kiss to his clothed chest, unknowingly causing his heart to flutter. His perfectly pink lips pressed against the top of your head, sending tingling goosebumps through your skull and down your neck.

“I know doll, I’m just so lovable, it’s part of my charm,” he chuckled, “I’m irresistible,” you scoffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes and sliding across his body until you rolled onto the floor. Bucky turned on his side, looking down at you in a defeated mess on the ground. His flesh hand reached down and stroked the wild hair from your face, exposing the brown skin he loved so much as you closed your eyes.

“What am I gonna do for New Years? I haven’t had a kiss at midnight, ever, and this year was supposed to be different.” You complained to him as his fingers brushed your skin. You opened one eye when you felt his fingers leave your face, only to see him preparing himself to roll down onto you. Before you had time to gasp or move, Bucky’s large body was smashed against yours, pinning you to the ground.

“Buck…can’t breathe,” you exhaled. He only smirked, letting up the slightest bit of pressure but staying firm in his position.

“I guess if you don’t find a date, we could always kiss,” he offered, a glint of hope in his oceanic eyes. You giggled, pushing your palms into his chest to try and alleviate more of the pressure.

“Don’t you have a date though? That’d be really awkward,”

“I could cancel, it’s no big deal,”

“It is a big deal! Your first date in what, 300 years? No way,” Bucky squinted his eyes at you.

“300 hundred years, huh? You think you’re so funny,”

“I do actually, I’m pretty damn funny and you know it,” you grinned cheekily before your eyes opened wide with regret as he propped himself up on his knees and let his fingers jog up your ribs. Your laughter burst through the apartment as he tickled you relentlessly, swift fingers dancing around the skin newly exposed by your shirt riding up.

“Buck, stop!” you laughed, squirming under his strong hold.

“I will when you take it back,” his fingers traveled to your armpits and you pressed on his forearms.

“Fine, fine! You’re not 300 years old,”

“And?” he didn’t stop, his hands almost to your most ticklish spot.

“And! And you’re very youthful, a young lad, not at all a dinosaur…!” he paused, unsure if he should let the last comment slide. It definitely felt more sarcastic than an honest apology but he’d let it slide. He knew if he kept tickling you, he’d end up on his ass with the wind knocked out of him. When he pulled away, you settled your panting, chest rising and falling in a frantically gorgeous mess before him. Your legs spread around his thick thighs, stomach exposed, and the most beautiful smile present on your face. Bucky clenched his jaw and blushed, sliding away from your body and standing up before he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you right then and there.

Bucky reached his hand down and grabbed your calf, pulling your leg up until he could slip the tight strap of your shoe from its buckle, releasing your aching foot from its four-inch prison. He did the same to the second shoe and held them in one hand, helping you up with the other. When you got to your bedroom, he tossed your shoes in the pile you kept at the bottom of your closet before training his eyes back on you.

“Maybe I’ll just call Helmut, I’m sure he’d say yes to being my date,”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Bucky boomed, clenching his jaw and crossing his arms. He leaned his broad shoulder against the wall as he watched you undress. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to undress in front of each other, you were best friends who had seen more parts of the other than the people you dated. Bucky paid no mind to your now bare body, dark and beautiful as you stepped into your hot shower. His mind was full of ideas on how to permanently get rid of your ex, Helmut. He hated his guts, treated you like you were nothing special while he ghosted you without warning constantly until you finally ended things with him.

You didn’t speak again until you got out of the steamy bathroom, sliding on one of Bucky’s shirts and sitting next to where he laid on your bed. You lotioned your body as he rolled onto his side and watched you.

“As I was saying, fuck that guy,”

“I could, I need to, it’s been a while,” you spoke, knowing damn well that wasn’t what Bucky meant. You could feel the intense glare on your back and you smirked.

“You know what I mean,” he said through gritted teeth, “he doesn’t deserve any of your time.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right–”

“I’m always right,” Bucky interjected, flopping his body back to look at the ceiling. You laughed, throwing the lotion bottle at his legs.

“As if. You’re maybe right forty-five percent of the time, maybe,” you shot your eyebrows up at him only for him to chuckle and forfeit. You climbed under your blanket and rested your head on the silk pillow next to Bucky, tracing small patterns at his hairline. Bucky closed his eyes and let you play with his hair, the soft motions lulling him to sleep.

“I’m just saying,” he yawned, “I’ll be your midnight kiss, if anyone should do it, it should be me,” another yawn. His voice was getting lower as he began to drift off to sleep. You smiled at him, glad you had such a great friend. You wouldn’t mind kissing him, actually, you had desperately wanted to kiss him for a long time. But surely he meant this as only a sad, pity kiss. Right?

It was New Year’s Eve and you were standing around the upbeat party looking for any available person, someone you didn’t know but could warm up to enough for the countdown kiss. Drink in hand, you shimmied your way around the dance floor, dancing with friends, chatting with coworkers, and eventually finding your way to Bucky. He stood in the corner with Sam and Steve, lightly nodding to the music playing while his two friends bickered like an old couple.

“Nice to see you guys here!” you greeted them, breaking their argument for only a moment before Sam went back to trying to convince Steve to kiss Sharon. You cozied up next to Bucky, his flesh arm wrapping tightly around your shoulders with a kiss to the top of your head.

“See anyone you’re interested in?” he asked, scanning the crowd as he took a swig of his beer.

“Not a single interesting soul in this room,” you spoke, watching his eyes fall to yours with a squint. You grinned, nudging his ribs and leaning your head against his chest.

“What happened to your date?”

“Eh, I called it off, just didn’t feel right,” he chugged down the rest of his drink before shaking the bottle and offering to get you one as well. Seeing as you had finished your drink off on the way over to the men, you followed him to the bar and ordered another fruity and very strong cocktail.

“Are you sure you didn’t call it off just so I would kiss you?” you shot your eyebrows up at him, sipping on the thin straw in your glass. Bucky blushed, wiping a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze.

“Are you saying you’ll kiss me now? Guess the plan’s working,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes at him, returning your attention back to your drink. Bucky watched your lips curl around the straw, perfect nude lips looking so soft, so succulent, he wanted so desperately to feel them against his. His eyes wandered across your brown skin, looking so divine against the rich gold of your velvet dress. His eyes met yours for a moment, taking in the beautiful color and getting lost in your presence. Before you could speak, your favorite song thumped through the speakers and you perked up, grabbing Bucky’s hand and tugging him to the dance floor reluctantly.

You danced against him, singing along to all your favorite parts as he sheepishly stepped side to side, metal hand on your hip and beer still in the other. You turned around so that your arms could wrap around his neck, his large thigh pressed tightly between yours as you slowed your movements. You danced together for what felt like forever, bodies pressed against each other, pure joy spread across your faces, Bucky’s thigh rubbing shamelessly against your crotch. You couldn’t deny the feelings he rose from you, the goosebumps that littered your skin, and the icy hot rush that spread down your spine. He was your best friend, he wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this.

The countdown finally arrived and you had yet to find a suitable partner to kiss, which left you in the group of Steve and Sharon, Sam and a lovely woman named Leila that he’d been seeing, and Bucky. The music was shut off and all that could be heard was the screaming countdown to midnight. Bucky had you leaned up against his lap as he sat in a tall stool, one arm around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. Not an unusual position for the two of you to be in, you were often cuddled up, touching, or sitting in his lap.

As the countdown neared the end, everyone and their partners got close, waiting for the final number to strike so they could kiss. Bucky whispered the numbers in your ear, not being one to make his presence known by being loud.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year!” as soon as the words left your mouth, Bucky’s fingers were under your chin, pulling your face toward his and planting the softest, most vitalizing kiss on your lips. You stopped breathing. Air caught in your throat as you felt the husky taste of his beer-stained lips transfer to yours, tongue slowly slipping out and entering your mouth in a kiss so passionate you thought it would stop time.

When he finally pulled away, you exhaled, eyes trained on his blue ones that carried a soft and irrevocable love. You couldn’t speak yet, taken aback by the rush of emotions flooding through your body as you tried to process the kiss. You turned your body around, laying your hands on his thick thighs and never breaking your gaze. Bucky’s arm remained around your waist, opening his legs and guiding you closer to him between them.

“Buck…” you finally spoke, only able to get his name to leave your eager lips. He smirked, eyes flashing down to your mouth for a moment.

“Doll..” the sultry tone of his voice made your breathing hitch. It was low and drawn out, filled with indecent intentions and a gentle eagerness. You slid your hands to his hips, thumbs gently poking under his black t-shirt and feeling the soft skin that squished together from how he sat. Bucky hummed as he felt your fingers move across his skin, clenching his jaw and forcing himself not to slam his face back into yours.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered with a smirk. You scoffed playfully, stepping back from him so that he could stand up. He towered over you, chest pressing against yours as he stepped forward. He reached for his beer bottle on the table and finished it off, tapping the glass against the surface to call attention to your friends. They had all noticed the thick sexual tension and its momentary release when you kissed and tried to seem like they were minding their own business. Bucky nodded to them, indicating he was leaving and they didn’t protest, silently cheering as the inevitable was finally going to happen.

Luckily, the party was in the grand ballroom of your apartment, and it was only a short elevator ride to your place. You had managed to keep your hands to yourselves the entire way there, but as soon as Bucky latched the front door, your arms were around his neck and his mouth on yours. Bucky slid his hands to your thighs and picked you up effortlessly, sitting you on the kitchen island and working his way down your throat, to your clavicle, and down the deep swoop of your dress. Wet, fervent kisses were splayed across your skin as you tangled your hands in his hair.

Bucky pulled away for a moment, only to remove his shirt and hike up your dress, exposing your skin to the cold countertop. He leaned down, lips kissing and sucking on the skin of your thighs as he hungrily made his way to your center. You spread your legs for him, allowing him access to your body.

“No panties? Dirty girl,” he breathed heavily, seeing your dripping center fully exposed. You chuckled softly, biting your lip as you saw the fiery lust burn in his eyes as he took in the sight.

“I had to come prepared for the right man,” your hand brushed against his stubbled cheek.

“Did you find him?” Bucky smirked, flashing his eyes, now dark, up at you. You ran your tongue across your teeth and looked down at him.

“Hm, I don’t know, I guess it depends if he can make me cum.” Bucky sucked in his bottom lip, the sound that escaped him was low, a guttural growl that made your thighs twitch. His metal hand slid up your dress and laid on your abdomen, pressing into you until you laid down on the counter. Then he licked his lips, wet tongue sliding across those perfect, deep pink lips with desire, that tongue that you fantasized about feeling explore every inch of your body, that tongue that was just in your mouth moments ago, igniting feelings you didn’t know existed in him.

Bucky chewed on your thigh, sucking in the thick skin until he left a dark mark behind. Your breathing got quicker as he made his way up your leg, a trail of wet marks left down the length of your thigh until his tongue was merely an inch from your dripping core. Bucky flashed his eyes up to you, holding your gaze as you watched him slide his tongue across the length of your pussy. You moaned out, instinctively rolling your hips against his mouth which beckoned a dark chuckle from him.

“Mm, my eager girl,” you whined as his mouth left you to speak, “shh, shh baby girl, we’re just getting started.” Bucky delved back into your wetness, mouth latching onto your skin and sucking until you were swollen. His tongue laid flat, leaving small, soft strokes against your folds, your clit being sucked into his mouth at the same time. Whimpered curses left your lips, the feeling of him tending to your throbbing core made you hot. Your skin began to bead with sweat, warmth seeping from your body like you had fire in your veins.

Bucky wasn’t going to stop until he had you gushing into his mouth, filling him with every ounce of your sweet release. He wanted to taste you, taste the velvety cream that’d spill from your body and onto his waiting tongue. Nothing could be better, he dreamed of it for so long, devouring you as your body shook under his touch. The sound of your moans was something he hadn’t quite prepared himself for, they were long and high, a string of music that played beautifully into the air and took over his mind. Bucky’s cock stretched the fabric of his pants, hearing his name roll off your tongue so lasciviously brought him close to orgasm.

Your hands gripped his hair tight, his name tumbling out in screams as you felt the band in your stomach snap. Bucky growled against your pussy as you poured into him, sweet climax dribbling down his face as he attempted to catch it all, not wanting to waste a single drop. As your breathing calmed, Bucky kissed up your body, pushing your dress the rest of the way up until it was discarded over your head. He admired your chest, soft breasts and brown nipples perked and ready for his mouth. He licked circles around one, kneading the other in his metal hand.

“You’re so perfect, darling,” he moaned against your skin. His hot breath mixed with the cold wetness left behind on your nipple and tingled your body. You sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him against your body as his mouth sucked hickeys onto your shoulder. Bucky wrapped your legs around his waist and carried you to your bedroom, laying you down on the soft blanket before working on his belt. You stopped him, taking the belt into your hands and sliding off the edge of the bed until you were on your knees in front of him.

The sight before him was overwhelming. Pleasure and longing wracked through his body as the anticipation of your mouth on his cock grew. You tugged his jeans down to the floor, pulling his boxer briefs with them and he kicked them away. You looked up at him, his body completely naked and so, so delicious. Every muscle, curve, and scar made you flush with lust. His veiny cock was large and erect, staring you down as your hands glided up his thick thighs until you gently stroked his balls. Bucky immediately threw his head back, your fingers working expertly around his skin, gently rolling him in your palm before taking his head in your mouth.

“Oh shit, baby,” he groaned, trying desperately to calm the reactive buck of his hips. You swirled your tongue around his tip, sliding it down his shaft until you met his balls with your mouth. As soon as your mouth came into contact with him, he was dribbling precum. You licked your tongue back to his tip and sucked on him softly, tasting his anticipation. You moaned around his thick cock and you slowly moved your mouth down on him, taking every inch into your mouth, suppressing the gag that rose in the back of your throat. Bucky moaned, pressing his back against the wall as he gently rocked his hips forward, sliding himself in and out of your warm mouth. Your tongue curved to the shape of his cock, sliding it back and forth until he was panting. You pulled away with a wet pop, looking up at his begging eyes, pleading for release without saying a word. You smirked, bringing his cock back into your mouth and sucking faster, bobbing your head back and forth until the friction had him twitching between your lips. Bucky cussed, groaning as he spilled his seed into your mouth. You sucked up every drop of him until he grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you onto the bed.

“Buck!” you giggled, bouncing on the mattress from the force. He grinned as he crawled up your body. His mouth found yours and hungrily kissed and sucked on your lips.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this moment, doll,” he confessed, burying himself deep in the crevice of your neck.

“Bucky…you should’ve said something, I’ve been begging for you to fuck me for so long,” he perked up, looking at you with shock. He had no idea you felt anything for him until the kiss earlier. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours.

“You mean we could’ve been doing this, this whole time?” you laughed, sliding your hands up his rough back.

“Since the very first day, Buck,” he growled and bit your skin, playfully frustrated. You writhed underneath him, feeling his cock getting harder again. Bucky’s lips were on yours in a frenzy, kissing and biting, tongue sliding in and clashing with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as he ground his hips. Once he was fully erect again, he leaned back, sitting on his knees and caressing your dark pussy with his metal fingers. Bucky slipped between your folds and inserted two cold fingers into your entrance, beckoning a trembled moan to escape your lips.

“Mm, you’re so wet for me, baby,” he hummed, pumping his fingers in and out of your tight hole. You grabbed his wrist, holding onto him as he moved back and forth.

“Oh Bucky, baby I wanna feel you inside me, please,” you moaned. He did as told and removed his fingers, sliding his thick cock into your threshold until your lips were pressed against his skin. Your fingers dug into his shoulder and side, desperate for him to be closer, needing to feel his body in your hands as he fucked you.

“You’re so tight baby,” he breathed. Despite being dripping wet, his thick super-soldier cock stretched your walls to their brink. You were clamped down on him so deliciously that he would only need a few quick pumps to finish again. Bucky moved slowly, steady so that he didn’t hurt you, but you begged, begged him to fuck you so hard you saw stars. So he did. He picked up his pace, metal arm on the mattress, flesh hand holding your thigh open. He thrust back and forth, feeling your walls slide across his cock, drenching him in your slick as you screamed out his name. Bucky kept getting faster, more ravenous with each thrust until he was fucking you into the mattress with no mercy.

The bed creaked, thuds and slams against your skin echoed off the walls, lewd wet slapping could definitely be heard in the apartment next to yours, and Bucky’s pleasured grunts sent shivers through your body.

“So sweet for me baby girl, fuck, you’re so sweet for me, so wet,” Bucky panted, pushing your leg up and down into the bed, opening you up even more.

“Such a good girl for me huh? This pretty little pussy, just for me?” his mouth was at your ear, nibbling on your lobe as his words danced their way into your head.

“Yes baby, fuck, just for you,” you cried out before pulling him into a kiss to stifle the scream you felt brewing. Bucky could feel your walls tightening, gripping his thick cock with your swollen vagina.

“Oh darling, are you gonna cum for me? Huh, baby?” you could only nod as you felt it shock through your body. “That’s it baby, cum for me, cum for me,” he guided, his face pressed against yours as you screamed out his name. Sweat and moans mixed together as your orgasms rocked through your bodies. His heavy pants and dirty talk made your eyes roll back, hearing him beg you to cum was next level, the encouragement you didn’t realize you were so desperate for. Bucky released again, spilling into your warm vagina as you gushed onto his thick cock. With a few heavy pants and quite a lot of expletives, Bucky finally collapsed next to you. The pleasure lingering on each of your bodies like static electricity.

“So, how was your first New Year’s kiss?” Bucky smirked at you, eyes full of love. You shook your head, leaning over to kiss his chest. Your lips trailed from his peck to his face, splattering him with kisses.

“It helped me complete something on my New Year’s resolution to-do list,”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Bucky questioned, sliding his fingers down your arm as you lay on top of him.

You almost tripped into the motel room as the tall, bulky man with you practically tossed you inside. Fumbling toward the bed, you got your bearings by sitting on the mattress with a bounce. You watched his every move. He stood straight; he was emotionless and quiet as he shut the door and locked it, eyeing the surroundings from the window to make sure you weren't followed.

You weren't sure why he saved you, and honestly, neither was he. But when he brought you to the Hydra base and they started testing on you like they'd done with him, something ignited in him and he broke you out, killing anyone in his path. He hadn't said a word to you, only glared as if to see if you were okay–or it could've been with hatred, you couldn't tell.

That was seven days ago. You had been traveling with him to God knows where, tossed into rooms and being watched while you slept. There was one moment where he softened up, and strictly because he was injured. Hydra had found you two days in and had shot him square in the gut. After he managed to get you to safety, he attempted to patch up his wound himself but was doing a pretty lax job of it. You offered to help after seeing how haphazard his patchwork was, and after he gave you a steely glare of death, had actually allowed you to stitch it.

He still never spoke, just loomed and watched. And admittedly, you watched him too. He was a gorgeous man, his long dark hair and blue eyes were mesmerizing; the way he’d tuck loose strands behind his ear only for it to fall forward again with a glimmer of annoyance in his eye. He'd grown more scruff on your journey and you found it almost irresistible. Almost because he was the man that got you into this whole dangerous situation to begin with. However, you couldn't help but have growing feelings for him after he repeatedly saved you and brought you food. And it wasn’t like he was mean, though any little act of kindness was enough for you, your bar for men was practically in hell.

You didn't even know his name, only that Hydra called him Soldier, or rather, Soldat. You'd ask him, trying to engage him in some type of conversation, but he never budged. He never said a word, not even an affirming glint in his eye as you tried to guess his name. Paul? Jack? John? Demitri? Xavier? You tried the most to least common names you could think of, every day a new set of names would pop into your head and you'd try again. It was like talking to a brick wall. You'd flick through the channels of the crappy motel TV and ask, "is it Chuck? No, you don't look like a Chuck, maybe Dean? Sam? Nothing? Maybe you don't have a name, maybe you were born and they just called you Boy Number 11," you'd shrug and change the channel again.

As he took off his gun from around his body, he slid down the wall into his usual sitting position. He faced the door, gun in his lap and eyes trained on you. You sighed, knowing the routine all too well. You'd take a nap while he kept watch and would be woken up in four hours to be on the move again, in silence.

"Ya know, you could at least say good night, it's only polite," you shrugged, folding back the blanket and inspecting it for any stains or bugs. You didn't look at him, you knew he wasn't going to respond but you talked anyway.

“Don’t you get tired? I mean, you look exhausted, no offense,” you glanced at him, seeing his eyes shift from the door to you for a second then back to their previous spot. “Right, so you should at least take a nap. There’s plenty of space on the bed, I don’t mind sharing. Hell, I’ll even take the floor.” He didn’t move, not risking another look at you again.

Something about you made him feel different, like a memory that he couldn’t quite recall. It bothered him. He was trained to kill, to complete the mission, and report back to Hydra. But when he saw you in that chair being shocked, a strange feeling came over him, it was like he wasn’t who he thought he was but he just couldn’t remember anything other than what he was told. The longer you were together, the more he felt like that like there was something missing, some piece to a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. You were humanizing him and he didn’t realize he needed it.

You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket, laying it on the smoke-stained chair that was pushed in against a table. You looked down at yourself, your clothes were dirty and bloody, covered in mud, dust, and god-knows-what. You were desperate for a shower and a clean set of clothes, but seeing as you were on the run, you didn’t exactly have a change of clothes to get into. Alas, you decided that this mysterious soldier would just have to put up with your attempt at getting clean, even if that meant staying in the motel for a few hours longer than usual.

“Look, I need to bathe and I don’t want to put on the same dirty clothes, so I gotta at least rinse them in the tub. Which means we have to wait for them to dry, just letting you know.” You gestured with your hands, giving a small shrug and heading toward the bathroom. The soldier didn’t protest, but you heard him breathe a lengthy sigh; at least it was a reaction.

You came out of the bathroom in just a towel. You scrubbed your clothes as best you could with a little bit of hand soap, rinsing them in the tub, and hanging them to dry on the shower rod. You walked past him, still sitting on the floor with his eyes trained on the entrance. You held the towel in place so that it didn’t fall, although you weren’t totally against the idea of him seeing you in the nude, he was pretty cute.

You sat on the bed, tucking yourself under the blanket and letting the towel rest beneath you, uncovering most of your figure. Your body ached, it longed for the comfort of a soft bed, something cozy and clean, something familiar. You felt a little better after your shower, and it was enough for you to drift off to sleep, saying an unrequited goodnight to your rescuer.

Two hours later, you woke up shivering. The crisp air of winter seeped through the poorly sealed window and door of the motel. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, trying to snuggle deeper into the bed for warmth that wouldn’t arrive. You looked over at the man on the floor; he was still awake and watching the door, it didn’t appear that he had moved much. He looked cold, his cheeks and nose were flushed pink, and you swore you could see the goosebumps on his neck.

“Ya know, you’re allowed to get in the bed, you look cold and there’s plenty of space up here,” you pulled the blanket to expose the empty side of the mattress, inviting him in. He only glanced at you, not saying a word–not that you expected him to. You sighed and let your head rest against the pillow.

“Or, you could come over here and warm me up. If you’re going to drag me around the country, you could at least do that,” you shrugged, turning over to face the other wall. You tried to wrap the blanket around you, curling up into a ball and closing your eyes. Unexpectedly, the bed dipped and you felt him sit with his back against the headboard. You perked up and turned over, seeing him sit with one leg extended and the other pulled up with his foot flat against the mattress.

You didn’t say anything, just smiled and pressed your body against his extended leg. He was cold like you thought, but the embrace of another body quickly warmed the both of you up. You gently put the blanket over his leg and he tensed up, flashing his cold blue eyes to your movements and grabbing your wrist. His grip was tight, the way you’d grab an enemy to stop an attack. His face was full of alarm and confusion.

“Relax, it’s okay, I just want you to be warm too,” he hesitated, it looked as if he was processing the moment, taking in what was happening and trying to analyze it in every possible way. Finally, he relaxed just a little and let you cover him but stayed in his position, still quiet. He held his gun against his chest, the long rifle an intimidating sight above your head. You hadn’t been this close to him the entire time you were on the run–even when you were patching up his wound, he kept you at arm's length. He was large and muscular, the dark clothes he wore hugging him perfectly. His left arm was metal and you could see your reflection in the silver.

You rested your head on his hip, slinging your arm over his thigh and gripping the blanket to trap the warmth. He looked down at you getting comfortable, he didn’t know how to register the newfound closeness; something was stirring in him that he couldn’t describe. His face remained flush but this time it wasn’t because of the cold, he was blushing.

After a couple minutes, you couldn’t get the weapon out of your mind. You tried to ignore it but the looming presence kept you from getting back to sleep. You looked up at the gun, uncomfortable with a loaded weapon being in bed with you. As your eyes trailed the length of the gun to his face, you saw him glance at you.

“I know you’re being protective and everything, and I appreciate that, don’t get me wrong. But the gun is kinda scary, Mystery Man,” you pulled your eyebrows together, waiting for him to say something or move the gun away. You saw a small hint of embarrassment? In his eyes and after a moment, he placed the gun on the bedside table. The corner of your mouth twitched, holding back a smile as you nestled back into him with a “thanks”. He rested his flesh hand on the handle of the knife that sat in a holster on his thigh, ready to extract and throw it if need be.

Despite his unsettling feelings over saving you, he didn’t want to scare you. It was a strange feeling for him, normally he wouldn’t care, normally anyone who had no purpose to him would be dead, but he wanted you to be safe. Especially the longer you were together. Your guessing game of his name went unanswered because he wasn’t even sure what his name was, every one that you said didn’t feel right, although the J’s and B’s felt a little closer, but it wasn’t quite there. All he knew was that he had a strange sense to protect you.

The new warmth and absence of the gun weren’t enough for you to fall back asleep. His closeness was drawing new feelings from your body that you tried to stifle to no avail. You wondered if he felt it too; you could tell he was getting gentler with you, some would say he even cared about you. You didn’t know how long it had been, if ever, since someone treated him well–especially sexually.

The arousal that filled your body as it was pressed against his couldn’t be ignored any longer. You chanced a glance at him, seeing his eyes look heavy as he watched the door. He looked so tired, you just wanted him to relax and get some sleep. Maybe I can help him sleep, you thought to yourself, flicking your eyes to the belt of his pants. You bit your bottom lip, playing out the scenario in your head and wondering if it was a good idea. You decided to try, slowly inching your fingers closer to his inner thigh. He looked down at the movement, feeling your hand slip across his body until it was pressed between his thick legs.

His eyes were wide, suddenly wide awake and surprised by what was happening, unsure how to react. He didn’t expect you to feel that way about him and he didn’t expect himself to feel it either, all he could do was watch as you trailed your fingertips up the zipper of his pants. You could feel him twitch under your touch, his pants getting tighter as he grew beneath them. You looked up at him to see him watching intently. The room was dark, the only light came from the moon through the blinds and cast a shadow over his face. Only his eyes were lit and they were filled with a confused lust.

“Is this okay?” you asked as you fiddled with his belt, watching for any sign that you should stop. He was nervous, uncertainty running through his mind as he battled with himself over the feeling. He wanted it, yes, but he had been so deprived of any kind of love that it felt out of place for him. He didn’t speak, only clenched his jaw and softly nodded yes, deciding to take a chance on the feelings that were rising in his body. You smiled, eyes glinting with adoration and kindness, taking it slow so you didn’t make him uncomfortable. You undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and slipped your hand into his boxer briefs. He was already hard and aching for relief. He was long and thick, a veiny shaft met your eager hand and twitched under your touch.

You curled your fingers around him, the tightness of his boxers pressing you harder against his member, making it hard to stroke him properly. The tease alone almost brought him to orgasm. It had been years since he felt any pleasure, just going from war to war and never having a moment’s peace.

“Can I take them off?” you removed your hand and gently tugged on his pants, asking for permission to reveal him fully. He nodded again. You wished you could hear his voice, to hear your name roll of his tongue as he fucked you, but he remained silent. He lifted his hips from the bed as you slipped off his pants, exposing just how big he was. Your eyes widened at the sight, swallowing hard as you imagined him fucking you.

As you crawled up his legs under the blanket, it opened enough for him to see your naked body. He watched you with lustful eyes, seeing your perfect frame come up his body. You stopped when your hips were lined up with his and sat down, his cock pressed against your throbbing wetness. He parted his lips and breathed deeply, the anticipation almost killing him. You watched his face, you could see him twisting inside, waiting to feel you around him. You pressed your hands against his chest, his leather vest still hugging his body, and leaned forward until your lips were almost touching his.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. His eyes softened. No one had ever complimented him like that before, it was odd for him to hear the words. He moved his hands to your hips, the moonlight gracing your bare body like a chiaroscuro painting.

“I wish I knew your name, I want to moan it in your ear as you fill me up,” you whispered low, grazing your lips across his cheek to his ear. He furrowed his brows, pained that he couldn’t tell you, he wanted to hear it fall from your lips but he just couldn’t remember. You rolled your hips, sliding your clit across his shaft slowly, coating him in your wetness. His grip on your hips tightened, lust taking over his body and sending tingles across his skin. You moaned softly, closing your eyes and pressing your cheek against his as you lifted your hips and lined up his tip to your entrance.

“Fuck me,” a name flashed in your head, like a sign from the universe, an instinct that slipped out of your mouth in the next second, “fuck me, James.” You looked in his eyes, realization washing over them, like a flood of memories being replayed in a montage.

“Bucky.” He spoke finally. His voice was low and guttural, it immediately sent goosebumps down your spine and twisted your stomach in knots. “James Bucky Barnes.” one of his hands went to your cheek, pressing your face down to his as his lips meshed with yours. You moaned against him, newfound confidence came over him and he panted into your mouth. You pushed your hips down against his body, sliding his thick cock into your vagina, feeling him stretch you out so perfectly, so deliciously that you gasped out your next moan.

Bucky, Bucky, it was so perfect. A name that finally fit. He was overcome by his emotions of simply remembering his name, it beckoned a gentle dominance in him and he took control. Bucky’s metal hand guided your hips back and forth, rocking you gently on his cock, slipping in and out ever so slightly to get you comfortable. You moaned against his wet lips, tongues clashing together and tasting every inch of the other’s mouth.

“Oh, Bucky,” you moaned in between kisses. His chest heaved as he heard his name, the intensity of his lust growing by the second. “Your cock feels so good,” you slid one hand down his chest, holding yourself steady as you slid further from his cock then back down. Bucky groaned, the cold air chilling the wetness on his thick member before being encased in your warmth again.

Bucky’s rough hands gripped your back, pressing you tight against his chest before rolling over and pinning you to the mattress. His long hair fell around his face and curtained yours underneath him. You could barely see his eyes until you tucked the right side of his hair behind his ear, exposing his skin to the moonlight. You looked at him in awe. He truly was gorgeous, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Your hand stayed on his face and you stroked his cheek with your thumb. Bucky looked at you for a moment, taking in your beauty. He felt warm, comfortable, and stable when he was with you. Like he was meant for more than being the winter soldier.

After a moment, he brought his lips back down to yours in a soft kiss. A gentleness he didn’t know he was capable of. Your hands moved to the back of his head, holding his hair in place as his kisses became more ravenous. He kissed and sucked on your lips, moving down your jaw to your neck. Bucky was still inside you, his cock throbbing in your wet warmth, begging to be stroked again. He began thrusting his hips, his eyes capturing yours as he slid slowly out, pounding back in with a quick and hard thrust. You gasped at the movement, it knocked the wind from your lungs each time and he groaned into your neck.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to open yourself up more, allowing him unrestrained access to fuck you deeper. Bucky sped up, wet slapping filling the cold air as he grunted through each thrust. Your moans got louder, falling on his ears like sweet music, his name trembling out from your lips between moans and curses.

“B-Bucky, you feel so good, f-fuck, you fuck me so good,” your walls were clenching as he melted into your words. The affirmations only made him hornier. His teeth pulled your skin roughly enough to leave behind marks, a symbol of his pleasure that you would wear confidently. It only took a few more thrusts for him to feel the knot in his stomach tighten, his metal hand cupping your cheek and other hand on your thigh as he gave you his last rough thrusts, spilling his warm load into your dripping pussy.

The sound he made was feral, a loud gritted grunt that turned into a little guttural battlecry. You immediately felt your own orgasm snap in your stomach, spilling out onto his veiny cock as he rode out the rest of his high. Your legs were trembling around his body, becoming too weak to stay wrapped, and eventually fell to the mattress. Bucky stayed inside you for a moment while he caught his breath, panting into your skin as he settled back down to earth. After a moment, he rolled off your body and sat on the edge of the bed. You looked at his back, waiting to see what he would do next. Would he stay in bed with you? Go back to his spot on the floor?

Bucky stood from the bed without a word, walking around it and heading to the bathroom. You furrowed your brows, was he really just going to discard you like that? Not even say a word to you? You curled up under the blanket, suppressing a sob that wanted to break out. After a second, Bucky came out with a warm, wet rag and stood beside the bed. Oh.

“Can I?” he spoke softly, motioning toward your messy thighs. You blushed, heat burning your cheeks at the thought of him cleaning you up.

“Sure, yeah,” despite having just exposed yourself to him, you couldn’t help the blush that tingled under your skin as he cleaned up the mess the two of you made, wiping gently down your thighs where your orgasm sprayed further than you thought. Once you were clean, he took the rag back to the bathroom and turned on the shower. No more than 3 minutes later, he came back out, towel around his waist, damp hair messily framing his face, and glistening chest on full display. He climbed back into bed next to you and timidly glanced over, a shyness in his eyes as he wasn’t sure if you’d want to lay on him.

You took the initiative to turn on your side and lay your arm across his body, he smelled nice. Granted, it was the cheapest motel soap imaginable, but it was better than the week-long sweat from before. You weren’t even bothered by it though, the pure lust you felt for him had taken a hold of your body and you didn’t care about his dirty vest or unbathed body.

Bucky was gentle as he wrapped his arm around your back, hugging you closer to him and letting his guard down just a bit. He still had his weapons in reach, but with you on his side, he felt a type of security he’d never felt before. You made him feel whole, special, and human.

“Uh, thanks,” he spoke softly. You looked up at him with confusion, unsure what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?” he looked down at you, blue eyes boring into yours like he found his purpose in life. He couldn’t describe the feeling that had his heart clenched tight, it was new and frightening. He wasn’t sure how to navigate it, he felt fear for the lack of control he had over it. Over love.

As much as you wanted to stay in bed with him all day, you had to run your stand at the market today. You woke up in Bucky’s arms, wrapped around you like he was making sure you wouldn’t disappear into a dream. His soft face was relaxed, peaceful, his mouth slightly agape and breathing steady. He looked happy. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was like all his worries were washed away and he was just consumed in the moment, in you, and the little life you were building together. You couldn’t help but feel the same. The past you so desperately were trying to run from was a distant thought as you lay with him. He was your little slice of heaven and made everything seem possible.

By the way the sun shined into the room, you knew it was time to get up. You had lots of produce to haul to the market and some business to handle in regard to the orchard. You gently placed your hand on Bucky’s cheek, his soft stubble grazing your skin as he stirred. You watched him slowly peek open his eyes, his brows furrowing from the sunlight which twinkled his blue irises. He was gorgeous with the sun glowing over him; his skin looked like honey in the orange beam cascading over his features, so beautiful and picturesque like a marble statue.

“Good morning,” his voice was low and raspy, bliss tinted his words. He was happy.

“Good morning, beautiful,” you smiled, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. His face turned red, blushing at the words that spilled so effortlessly from your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he responded, sliding his hand up your scarred ribs and pressing you closer to him, “so beautiful,” he nuzzled your neck, kissing the soft skin to hide the rosiness of his cheeks. You giggled under him, sliding your hand up the back of his messy hair and holding him. He relaxed into your embrace, pure comfort taking over his body as he was cuddled. He loved it. Only you had held him like that and it had become his favorite thing. Such a calm and secure place; it felt like home.

“I gotta work today, Buck,” you heard him whine, nuzzling in deeper, not wanting to be away from you. “I know baby, but the stand isn’t going to run itself.” Bucky groaned, biting your neck and shoulder softly before pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight, figure you deserve a proper date,” he pecked your lips, “plus, I want to talk about my past. You should know who I am, where I’m from and all,” he looked down, a nervousness washing over his face. Your eyes lit up, glad that he was finally comfortable enough to disclose to you but also scared about revealing your own past. Would he be upset? Would he find you evil and repulsive? You wished you didn’t have to find out, hoped that you could just store it away forever, but clearly someone out there still wanted you in that life. The mysterious folder locked away in your car was proof of that.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you kissed him, bringing him into another loving embrace.

Bucky helped you load your car with produce and stayed to set it up at the market before heading off to plan your date. The market was full of people, a bustling center for tourists and locals. You greeted people in Romanian, handling the fast-paced environment with ease as you traded products for cash without missing a beat. Your stand was a staple in the market for being a safe space, one that people with little to no money could come to and still receive food. You pride yourself on it, never wanting anyone to go hungry especially when there is plenty to go around. People warned you against it, saying that it would be taken advantage of, but even if it was, food was food. You never turned someone away who was desperate for it.

“Y/N, we need more large bills, we’re running low,” one of your helpers said as they completed a transaction. You cursed to yourself, forgetting to bring the moneybag with you.

“Shit, I left it at the orchard, I’ll go get it. If we run out before I get back, just put out a sign that lets people know,” you untied your apron, one that had your business name hand-painted across the front, done by some local kids who you helped with food. You left the stand and headed to your car. When you reached for the door handle, you saw a shadowy figure through the window on the outside of the vehicle. You jumped, rounding the car to look for whoever it was but they had disappeared in the thick mob of shoppers. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you got into your driver seat, glancing over at the glovebox where the folder from yesterday was stuffed. You shook it off, turning the ignition and driving off toward your house.

When you arrived, you waved to the farmers on your land, harvesting crops and tending to the chickens. They were like family to you, most have helped your family since you were a child. When you walked up to your front door, you saw another folder tucked under it. You clenched your jaw, heart rate picking back up as you pushed your door open and grabbed the folder from the ground. You brought it into the kitchen, setting it down on the counter and sighing. You stared at it for a minute, contemplating whether you should bother opening it or just toss it in the trash. Whoever wanted you to have it knew where you lived, knew where Bucky lived and knew well enough to keep their distance. Meaning, they were stalking you and knew exactly who you were.

You paced back and forth, leaned against the kitchen island, tapped your fingers, then went back to pacing. You decided you would just leave it be, maybe forgetting about it was the best choice. You left the folder on the counter as you went to your office down the hall. The room was fairly small compared to the others in the house, you had a hefty wooden desk and a couple of chairs in front of it for business associates. Your chair was sage green and plush, you could spend hours sitting there and not even realize it. The bookshelves that lined your walls were tall and stocked full of a number of genres, one shelf, in particular, had small scrape marks on the floor in front of it, almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye.

You sat down, relaxing your aching feet on the little green footrest under your desk. Your back was leaned against the chair in an uncomfortable-looking hunched position as you surveyed the lonely room. It was quiet, peaceful. But you missed Bucky, your house would be so much better with him in it. The house used to be filled with so much life when you were a child, but now that it was just you and your workers, it was always lonely.

After taking a minute in the peace from the market, you slipped the little blue bag of cash from your drawer and closed it. When you stood up, you heard a soft rustling in the kitchen. Your back straightened, staying perfectly still and holding your breath so you could listen to whatever, or whoever made that noise. Evidence didn’t arrive and you clutched the bag, inching toward the doorway and peeking out, hoping to find one of the orchard workers but finding no one in sight.

When you entered the empty kitchen, you saw that the folder was open on the counter–not how you left it. You tensed up and looked around for whoever had messed with it but found no sign of life. You looked at the folder again, it was thin and only had three pages in it. When you saw the picture, you noticed that it was the same folder from your car, the one you had stuffed in the glove compartment. Your heart began to race as the realization set in that someone was watching your every move, stalking you, and had access to break into your home and vehicle. A fiery tension rushed through your body, the inevitable acceptance of the task at hand. You knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore it, you couldn’t hide away from the past. Whoever wanted you to have this file was never going to let it go.

You looked at the paperwork, picking up the glossy photo of the rich-looking man and analyzing it. Who was he? The photo of him was from some sort of presentation he was doing. He stood on a stage in a black suit and dress shirt, dark hair neatly combed and goatee sharp and fresh. You wondered what possible reason he could have for being a subject of your mysterious folder. You looked at the other two documents, a detailed list of his attributes; height, weight, eye color, name. Tony Stark? Fuck, Tony Stark. The realization rushed over you that this was the Tony Stark, world-renowned playboy, and billionaire. How did he find himself in this situation? What did he do that warranted his life being in danger?

You looked at the other piece of paper, it was a typed note, a letter to convince you to take the job. It read, “he’s going to kill Bucky. Kill him first.” Your stomach dropped, rage flurrying through your body at the thought of Bucky being taken from you. Why was Stark going to kill him? What was his connection to the man you had fallen in love with? It didn’t matter. You had never questioned the integrity of the folder’s reasoning, it didn’t make a difference, a job was a job. You weren’t going to start asking questions now. If Tony Stark was a threat to Bucky, you’d have no choice but to eliminate it.

You slapped the folder shut with a huff, gritting your teeth as you turned on your heel and headed back toward your office. Your fingers slid over the spines of a row of books on one of the bookshelves until it reached the bookend. A 30-pound gold geometric statue worth almost a million dollars. You brushed your fingers over it, eyes dropping in reluctance as you palmed it and turned it a few inches to the right. Once you did so, the shelf clicked, slowly sliding open forward like a door. With a deep breath, you walked into the hidden room. Lights buzzed on when they detected motion.

On the walls were lines of organized guns, hand combat weapons, and special weapons–such as magical spears, guns, and swords. Each had a wall dedicated strictly to their category. In the middle of the room was a large table, maps and old plans laid out on it. Around the table were drawers of more weapons, very expensive items and collectibles, and all the clothes one would need to be an assassin.

You sighed, slowly walking into the room you hadn’t been in in a year, surveying the weapons you’d used many, many times. You walked up to the wall of hand combat weapons, looking over each throwing star and dagger until your eyes laid on one in particular. It had a black leather handle, wrapped to give it grooves for a textured grip. The base of the handle was curved downward toward the blade then turned outward, acting as two additional spikes to attack with. The blade itself was short and silver, engraved with the quote “give unto me the blood of thy enemy” in small Latin script and sharp enough to slice a piece of paper in mid-air. The end of the handle was rhombus-shaped, perfect for a small jab. In the middle was a small ruby, worth at least five million dollars. Custom made just for you, a gift for being their best assassin.

You clenched your jaw, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the dagger and picking it up. Instantly being thrown into a flashback you hated having.

You sipped the martini in your hand as you looked upon the body of the lifeless Russian. Cocking your head to the side, you smiled. The dagger in the other hand twirled between your fingers with ease, dripping blood onto your skin and some onto your seat. The door to the room opened and the man who had acted as your bodyguard earlier in the night walked in.

“Good work, messy, but at least he’s dead,” his voice was gruff as he worked on disposing of the body.

“Yes, very messy. You should work on that,” another voice, slick and calm, thick with a German accent. The man walked in behind the bodyguard, wearing a long coat lined with fur and slicked-back hair. Your boss.

“Hey, he’s the one who got handsy,” you spoke, finishing off your drink and sliding the dagger in the sheath on your thigh.

You came back to reality, your grip so tight on the handle you thought the skin of your knuckles would break. In the corner of the room sat a radio, one connected to the local police, private communication systems, and any nearby government. A handy piece of equipment for when you wanted to know what was going on in the city. You walked over to it, circling your finger over the dial, taking in the memories associated with the device. You turned it on and went back to the table, opening one of the drawers and grabbing a duffle bag. You loaded it with everything you’d need to take out Tony Stark, guns, ammo, knives, smoke bombs. As you packed the bag full, the radio chirped, locking in on a private comm.

“Do you know me?” The voice was scratchy on the radio like it was almost out of range. The next voice was softer, almost intelligible like they were farther away from the person with the microphone.

“You’re Steve, I read about you in the paper,” you couldn’t make out the voice and brushed it off as a stranger. You continued to listen as you packed another bag with gadgets. They spoke back and forth for a moment, an apparent reunion that seemed unwanted. Another person’s voice was on the radio alerting the first man of danger, being broken up by what sounded like swat team communications. Whatever was about to happen didn’t sound good, but it was none of your business. You had your sights set on Tony Stark.

As you walked to the door with your bags, you reached over to turn off the radio, but just as your fingers grazed against the dial, you heard it. The first man speaking a name that caused you to stop dead in your tracks.

She was beautiful. Fair skin like the tinted glow of the sun slipping through the parted curtains. Radiant and all-consuming. Her eyes; blue like the ocean, so gentle and calm, yet can wash over your soul and carry you miles away, drowning you in her beauty.

Bucky watched her from across the street. It was his favorite pastime; coming to the same bench every morning, a perfect seat to watch her read in the park. At first, he felt odd, it wasn’t normal behavior to sit from a distance and watch someone every day, especially without so much as an introduction. But he couldn’t resist. The way she would tuck her light hair behind her ear, revealing the beautiful diamond earrings he’d left her earlier from a “secret admirer” for her birthday. He struggled with himself over dropping it in her mailbox, was it too far? Too much? They were neighbors so it wasn’t creepy that he knew where she lived or was it? Was it creepy that he knew it was her birthday? Bucky’s inner monologue often drifted him into space, today causing him to miss her when she got up to leave.

When he came back to earth, he noticed she was gone. A sadness twinged in his eyes as he scanned the park for her, missing the smile that would grace her lips and crinkle her pierced nose whenever she read an amusing part of her book. It was a smile he would get lost in, hoping one day that he’d be the cause of it. Bucky straightened up, his leather jacket smoothing out and gloved fingers sliding over his thighs as he prepared to stand and leave.

Before he could get to his feet, a shadow cast over him. He shot his blue eyes up to the figure standing over him. It was her. Bucky immediately ran his hand through his short dark hair, his heart pounding and breath caught in his throat. There it was. That smile. The smile he’d kill to see every second of every day. She sat down next to him, tucking one leg behind the other and laying her book in her lap. She held his gaze for a moment, taking in his own beauty and swallowing hard.

“Hi stranger,” god, her voice was perfect. It ran chills down his spine and he never wanted her to stop talking. He offered an awkward smile, lifting his eyebrows as if to soothe some of his discomforts. She only smiled wider. Not helping.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he spoke, voice squeaking a little like he was going through puberty. He cleared his throat but remained quiet, waiting for her to speak next.

“I’m Sher, it’s nice to finally have a name for the person who watches me every day,” Bucky’s face drained of its color, she knows? Fuck. He smiled awkwardly again, unsure how to explain away his constant attendance to her show of reading in the park. Sher could tell he was processing it, thinking of ways to appear less creepy.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind it. I mean, it is a public park,” she began to blush, rosiness filling her fair cheeks, “actually, I quite like it. I’m glad you think I’m interesting enough to watch, though I’m not sure why,” she laughed, looking down to her book as she thumbed the indented title. Bucky furrowed his brows, watching her pick her gaze back up and look at him briefly.

“I like seeing the way you smile at your book,” Bucky spoke, and although he was brave enough to get the words out, he didn’t have a shred of confidence. Bubbling anxiety brewed in his body and tingled over his skin. “I think you’re really pretty,” pretty, Buck? Really?

“Oh,” Sher blushed again, unable to keep her eyes on him.

“No–”

“No?” she mirrored him, confused by his attempt to take back the compliment.

“No, I mean, not no, yes I think you’re pretty. I think you’re gorgeous, wildly beautiful,” Bucky cringed at himself, face completely red and burning hot.

“Oh.” She widened her eyes, looking away from him with a smile she deemed too large for him to see. He caught a glimpse of it and melted. He made her smile. It made his heart flutter.

“Sorry, I know this is a bad introduction–’

“I think it’s quite sweet, actually,” her words gave him an ounce of confidence. Enough to calm his breathing and spark his next sentence.

“Would you like to go out sometime, then? I’d love to take you out,” Bucky held his breath, scruffy jaw clenched as he waited for a yes–hoped for a yes.

“I would love that, and maybe next time you can join me in the park? Reading to you is the least I could do after you gave me such beautiful earrings,” she smirked. His eyes were wide as he was outed as the secret admirer. Sher stood up and Bucky followed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and moving his shoulders with his exhale.

“Well, I should get going, does tonight work?”

“Tonight is perfect,” he spoke a little too quickly, causing her to giggle.

“Well, you know where I live, I’ll see you tonight Bucky,” Sher placed a hand on his bicep, leaning in and kissing his cheek. His sandalwood scent filled her senses and made her feel warm, comfortable. Bucky blushed, his cheeks and nose tinting pink at the contact. She graced him with one last smile before walking away down the sidewalk. Bucky turned on his heel and let his eyes follow her.

Flashback:

You sat in a crowded bar, the dancing crowd was tinted red by the strobe lights. Thigh-high stilettos adorned the lower half of your body, a red velvet bodycon dress accompanying it. You watched a tall gentleman sit at the bar from across the room, he was dressed in an expensive suit, worth at least $4,000, and sipped on top-shelf liquor. Your eyes fluttered to the person that stood next to you. A tall, muscular man acting as your bodyguard, a ploy for the people in the crowd, and signaled him away.

Your gaze went back to the man at the bar until he looked back, a smirk presenting itself on his face as you squint your eyes lustfully at him. You exuded wealthy energy; something untouchable and domineering and it caught his attention. He picked up his drink and brought it over, four fingers in his jacket pocket with his thumb out, a gaudy ring on it. When he reached the VIP table you sat at, he tipped his drink slightly, a nod to say hello.

“I would offer such a beautiful woman a drink, but it seems you have everything you need,” his Russian accent was thick as he motioned toward the scattering of many different crystal bottles of the finest alcohols in the bar. You rose one brow as you sipped on the martini in your hand, the other splayed across the back of the booth.

“I’m a woman of many pleasures, I’m always open to more.” You spoke seductively, hooking him in the allure. He smirked again, motioning for the waiter to come over and ordering you something pricey.

“May I?” he gestured toward the empty seat next to you. You waved your hand over it, inviting him to sit down with a smirk. “A beautiful woman should never drink alone,” he said, grazing his rough fingers over your hand that laid on the booth. You leaned your head back and let out a soft laugh.

It had been two months since you and Bucky had gone out on your first date and you had fallen in love with him more every single day. You hadn’t gotten him to open up about his past yet, it was a hard conversation to have and you were patient with him. He seemed to try and pretend that everything was fine, that he was just some normal guy with a metal arm, but on the nights you didn’t spend with him, he would have nightmares about Hydra and the crimes the Winter Soldier committed.

“Buck, I want you to meet my friends tonight,” you said over your shoulder as you cooked breakfast in his kitchen. You’d finally convinced him to get groceries, even if it was just him raiding your farm-fresh stock at home. You heard Bucky sigh as he rolled over on his bed, pulling his eyebrows together thinking about interacting with anyone but you.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked sleepily, laying on his side to watch you plate an omelet.

“You always have a choice, Buck,” you made sure to look him dead in the eye when you spoke, reassuring him that he didn’t have to do anything he was uncomfortable with, “I would just love for you to meet them, that’s all.” You brought his plate over and handed it to him in bed. He scooted up and laid his back against the wall. You grabbed your plate and sat next to him.

He pondered it for a moment, thinking of everything that could go wrong and coming to the conclusion that as long as you were with him, he would be okay.

“Alright, fine, but only if I don’t have to play any of those party games,” you laughed, shaking your head at him and returning to your omelet. He was an old soul, confused by the idea of Cards Against Humanity; it was one of the things you loved about him. He liked to sift through old books at local shops, listen to vintage music, and enjoy the peace of nature. Though, you had noticed something in his demeanor when you’d watch TV and commercials about the latest technological advancements that would come on. You believed it was a twinkle of fascination like he was a child looking at an advertisement of some new toy, but he always stifled it, like he was afraid to pique an interest in it. You didn’t bring it up, not wanting to force any harsh memories if it had something to do with his past–his arm.

“I’ll pick you up later, I have some business to take care of then we can head over,” you kissed his cheek. You hadn’t had sex yet but had gotten extremely close to oral one time when he’d kissed down your sore body after a hard day of harvesting. You were completely comfortable with kissing though, and you did it quite frequently. Bucky was insatiable; he loved feeling the embrace of your lips on his, a comfort that soothed his soul. It was like you were one in that moment, two bodies, two entities meshed into a single being.

He hummed as he took your lips to his, closing his eyes and taking in your warmth. Both of his large hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks and holding you close to him, a spot you loved to be in. Your arms wrapped around his waist, slipping up his shirt just barely, enough to feel the groove of his spine. Bucky wasn’t comfortable taking off his shirt yet, he hadn’t revealed what the junction of flesh and metal looked like because he was scared that you’d be disgusted by it. He was. He hated how it looked, burnt jagged flesh melded with silver metal. A constant reminder of what Hydra did to him, a reminder of who he was: The Winter Soldier.

When you got out to your car, there was a manila folder tucked under your windshield wiper. You clenched your jaw and quickly grabbed it, pressing it to your chest in case Bucky came outside and saw it. You got in your car and looked around for any sign of who left it. When you didn’t see anything unusual, you leaned your head back with a sigh, mentally cursing yourself for thinking you could get away from your past. You weren’t sure how to tell Bucky about it, especially since you wanted so desperately to be a different person, but you knew it would come out eventually, you just figured you’d have more time before it started resurfacing.

You opened the folder and inside were pictures of a wealthy man, probably someone with an incredulous amount of power and all the wrong intentions. You didn’t bother to look any further, not wanting to read the details because you were adamant about staying away from your previous line of work. You shoved the folder in your glove compartment and sped off, trying to focus on your plans for later that night.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” your friend, Alina, greeted Bucky as you walked in the door of her home. He smiled shyly, a timorous demeanor you hadn’t seen since you were just acquaintances at a fruit stand.

“Oh my god, is this him?!” your other friend, Carmen, shouted with a drink in her hand. She rushed to the front door where you stood together and ogled at him. Bucky blushed, his cheeks burning red; not only from the attention, but knowing that you told your friends about him, and seemingly told them a lot.

“Guys chill,” you widened your eyes with a threat before returning to look at Bucky. You gripped your arm around his and pressed your face against his large bicep. “Sorry,” you whispered low enough for only him to hear. He brought his gloved hand to yours and gently squeezed it, reassuring you that all was fine.

Later in the night, you were sitting around a large table with Bucky by your side, one hand on your thigh, and beer in the other. You had told him to give you a little squeeze if he got too uncomfortable and needed to leave, so he kept his hand planted on your leg, drawing circles with his thumb and waiting to use his out.

The group was talking about poetry while Alina and Carmen cleared the dinner dishes away. Many of your friends were involved in the arts one way or another, and all were multilingual so it wasn’t uncommon for them to recite poetry in other languages. Viktor hadn’t peeled his eyes away from you and Bucky, barely engaging in the conversation of “most romantic poem”.

“So, what’s with the gloves?” Viktor asked, disrupting the chatter. He was one of your male friends from high school, a Russian exchange student with a very obvious crush on you. He steamed with jealousy at your arrival with Bucky, sizing up the much larger man. Bucky clenched his jaw, the thumb on your thigh stopped twirling small circles and became stiff, waiting for the moment he’d need to give you a squeeze. You noticed immediately that his demeanor had changed and mentally cursed Viktor for potentially ruining the night.

“Poor circulation,” Bucky lied. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket to avoid anyone seeing the metal underneath his clothes. Viktor squinted his eyes, letting out a wordless hum before averting his attention to the poetry discussion that picked back up.

You looked at Bucky, his blue-eyed gaze met yours with a small twitch of the lip–a smile that was only meant to ward off any further investigation into his feelings. Just by the look in your eyes, he knew you weren’t going to dismiss how he felt so easily. You wrapped your arm across his lower back, giving a gentle squeeze. It eased him a little, knowing that you were frustrated with Viktor’s behavior just as much as he was without saying a word.

As Carmen set out a party game, Bucky tensed. He sat up straight and was noticeably agitated. You furrowed your brows, watching the silent panic rush through his body. His hand squeezed your thigh tighter than he had intended, definitely leaving a bruised handprint behind but you didn’t care, your mind was only on what got Bucky so upset.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t have to play, we don’t judge around here,” Carmen said confused, thinking it was the choice of game that got Bucky riled up. You could tell it wasn’t, something else had caught his attention and made him uncomfortable. You followed his gaze to Viktor, who was reciting a poem in Russian.

“...And in my solitude dost mock my praise…” he trailed off upon noticing the commotion. What about it had caused Bucky to react as such? You thought about it, remembering the previous line. “Thou hast outrun their longing with delight,” you were still confused, finding no clues in the passage, not knowing Bucky’s history with the word longing in Russian.

“You okay, man?” Viktor asked, with no real concern in his tone. He seemed more annoyed than anything. Bucky released your leg–you hadn’t even realized that he was still holding his grip the entire time–and stood up abruptly.

“Excuse me,” he said before rushing for the front door. Everyone looked at you confused. You gave a small smile and excused yourself as well, trailing after him.

“Bucky!” you called out upon exiting the house. He was walking down the street, trying to get as far away as possible. You called out to him again when he didn’t stop, jogging up to his quick form. “Hey, stop,” you grabbed his arm. He flinched away, stopping and taking a few steps away from you.

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” you swallowed hard, scared that he meant your entire relationship.

“What was? What happened?” you softened your voice, your eyes full of concern as they stared right through his soul. Seeing his eyes in the moonlight was ethereal; gorgeous blue irises full of water like a devastating ocean. It crushed your heart. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes on you as he blinked away tears.[*1] His breathing had become ragged and it looked as if he was trying desperately not to break down.

“I-I,” he swallowed hard and sighed, pain etched on his face, “I was brainwashed, a long time ago, but it’s still in my head,” the tears fell from his eyes, streaming down his face as he struggled to get his words out; each sentence broken by short pauses. You released the breath you were holding, eyebrows stitched together and tears threatening to fall from your own eyes.

“That poem, one of the words, was the first word in the sequence,” he tightened his jaw and shut his eyes, “the sequence to get me to turn into a murderer, Y/N. No control, no mercy,” his lips trembled as he tried to shake away the thoughts of his past, of all the people he hurt. You were in agony seeing him like this, so scared and broken like his whole world was coming undone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I never should have come tonight, I should’ve just stayed away,” he was breaking down, every emotion was flooding from his lips, a sea of pain in every word. You shook your head, stepping toward him only for him to retreat back again.

“Bucky…” your voice still soft, gently cradling his name in warmth and security. You took another step, this time he didn’t move, just watched you through blurred vision. He tensed when you placed your hand on his flesh bicep. You weren’t sure how you could comfort him, what could you even say that would make it better? All you knew was that you wanted him to not feel alone.

Your other hand tenderly brushed the tears away from his cheek and he pulled his eyebrows together at the touch, closing his eyes and leaning into your palm. You looked at him for a moment, words jumbling in your mind, trying desperately to form a coherent thought that would help. You sighed, dragging your hand from his cheek to his chin and nudging him to look at you. Bucky opened his eyes, the blurriness of his tears fading away, seeing you clearly in front of him until you said the only thing you could, the only thought that was clear.

“I love you,” the words rocked through him like an earthquake, breaking down his walls and shaking him to his core. He never thought he’d hear it, those three measly little words. But there you were, so comforting, so genuine, so kind; you were a dream. A fantasy he couldn’t believe was real. Someone who loved him. Loved? How? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He couldn’t even process your tenderness, your affection; love was so far beyond his scope that he almost broke down again at the sound of the words.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and holding him so tightly you thought you’d crush him. You melted with warmth as you felt Bucky’s arms snake around you, holding you with a fervent grip. You could hear his sobs in his chest, a jagged breathing pattern trying to be suppressed by slow breaths.

He placed his hands on your arms, pulling away from your grip to look at your tear-streaked face. You watched him, waiting for him to speak.

“I love you too,” the words felt like a release of tension, like steam being let out of a pressure cooker and settling his nerves until he couldn’t stop the rest to follow, “Y/N, fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he was crying again. Overwhelmed by the release, he brought you back into a hug, sobbing out the words over and over. There was no turning back. No way he could be without you anymore, no matter what happened, no matter who came for him, he had you and he never wanted to let go.

You had managed to get back to your house, setting your things down and taking Bucky by the hand. You didn’t speak much on the way there, still caught up in the emotional end to the party and just wanting to sit quietly, holding each other’s hand. You took him up the slightly curved staircase to the second floor and to your bedroom. Bucky watched you in silence as you took off your jacket and kicked off your shoes. The air was thick with sexual tension, you could both feel it. It finally felt like the right time, the perfect moment, both of your feelings out in the open; exposed and vulnerable. You parted your lips slightly, running your tongue over them and looking him up and down. Bucky’s breathing hitched under your gaze, butterflies blooming in his stomach in anticipation.

“I’m going to shower, then you can go after me if you want, just want to make sure I have enough hot water,” you winked, lifting the mood a bit. Bucky smiled at you and sat on the small couch in the corner of the room to wait his turn. When you got into the bathroom and shut the door, you started to panic. Frantically gathering everything you needed to get extra clean, it was like a mini rushed spa day while Bucky looked around your room from the couch. The bed was large and had a thin wooden canopy frame with sheer fabric draped around the top. Lots of plants, and furniture that matched the wood of the bed. The blankets were draped over the mattress and looked like the coziest spot he’d ever seen, plush and soft and warm. One wall had a giant window that overlooked the garden and brought in droves of moonlight. The couch faced a little hallway nook with the door to the master bathroom and a walk-in closet. It was a large and open room, probably just as big as his entire apartment.

When you got out of the steamy shower, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Scars littered your body, most could be explained away as accidents or childhood fun, but a couple, in particular, were long, jagged, and deep. Raised scars that looked very much like the remnants of torture. As your fingers grazed over one that splayed across your ribs, flashbacks of your past fluttered through your mind.

You led the Russian man up a staircase, his hands on your waist and drunken breath on your neck. The music in the club was just a muffled beat in the background.

You shook your head, coming back to reality, but still hearing the faint thumping of the club music in the back of your mind. You stepped out of the bathroom in just your towel--larger than a typical bath towel, seeing as those didn't wrap around your thick body. Bucky looked up and his jaw dropped slightly before clenching.[*2] He pushed back his long hair and scanned your body, adjusting in his spot as he grew harder. You noticed the tightening in his pants and bit your lip, eyes running down his body until they landed on his twitching crotch. Bucky blushed, pulling his legs closed and standing up.

“My turn,” he said softly as he brushed past you with a smile. Your fruity scent filled his nostrils as he walked by. He wanted to kiss you, to take you into an embrace and let his hands wander, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop and he needed to shower first.

When he got out of the shower, he looked at himself. Little did he know you had done the same thing, analyzing every imperfection and scar that couldn't be explained away simply. His major one being his arm. He ran his fingers over the jagged flesh that joined to metal, cringing away at the sight. He was scared to show you in fear that you'd find him repulsive, but after tonight, he had a little more confidence that you'd see past it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, preparing himself to walk out in front of you with just a towel around his waist.

You sat on the bed, freshly lotioned and waiting anxiously. You had turned off the lights and lit a few candles, so the room was dim and smelled of honeysuckle. You heard the click of the door, light leaking in from the bathroom as Bucky walked out. You pushed your legs together as much as you could, your thick thighs making it impossible for your knees to touch as you tried to ease the throb you felt. Bucky stood in the dark by the door, the flickering flames casting an orange glow over his slick body.

You looked at him in awe. He was gorgeous. Broad and muscular, arms forced away from his sides by his muscles, pronounced abs and soft pecs, the kind that squish and jiggle but become tight when flexed. Perfect for gripping onto. You hummed, taking in every inch of his body. Bucky shyly moved forward, his body more visible now that he stood only a few feet away. You looked at his face, his wet hair was slicked back with a few strands falling forward, his full cheeks tight as he clenched his jaw. He watched as your eyes traveled across his face, down his gulping throat, and over to his metal arm. You looked down the length of it, shiny and glistening, the candlelight bouncing off of it and reflecting on the walls. You brought your eyes to the junction of metal and flesh, eyebrows stitching together as you imagined the pain he must have gone through for it to look so rough.

You must have looked at it a little too long because Bucky started to retreat, eyes dropping to the floor as he stepped back. You quickly averted your eyes to his, seeing embarrassment painted across his face. You stood from the bed and grabbed his wrist, causing him to look up at you. Tears. Tears were in his eyes for the third time that night. Your heart broke.

“I know it’s ugly, it’s so fucked up, I understand that you don’t want to go through with this,” he spoke softly before you had a chance to. You sighed, although it sounded more like a scoff. You were in disbelief. He was so gorgeous and he didn’t even know it.

“Bucky, you are absolutely beautiful.” Your voice was confident, strong, with no hint of uncertainty whatsoever. He pulled his brows together, looking into your eyes. He searched for any judgment, just like the first day you came to his apartment. He still couldn't find any.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered, not able to believe what he was hearing. You put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, passionately bringing your bodies together and slipping your tongue in his mouth. Bucky moaned against you, his walls crumbling down as he felt the security of your love wash over him.

You pulled away, breathing heavily, and caressed his face. You led him to the bed and had him sit down with you in his lap. His hands held your hips as you straddled him. You could feel his hardness through the towel and it made you quiver. You gently kissed his lips, sucking softly on the flesh before trailing over his stubbled cheek. The sensation left goosebumps in their wake as you continued down his neck. You reached his shoulder, tenderly kissing the cool metal before bringing your attention to the intersection where it met his body. Bucky exhaled deeply as your lips tended to the rough skin, soothing his mind and relaxing the prickles of pain he constantly felt at the site. As your lips worked on his shoulder, you slid your hands down his wide chest, feeling every perfect dip and curve of his body before landing at the edge of his towel. Bucky’s hands slipped under the bottom of your own towel and squeezed your thighs. You winced a little, barely noticeable to a normal person, but Bucky wasn’t normal. He was highly aware and attentive to everything–every movement, every breath, every sound you made. He pulled away from your kiss and searched your face for the problem.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern rising in his voice.

“Nothing,” you responded. You had forgotten about the bruise on your leg from when he gripped you too tight at dinner. You didn’t care, it wasn’t the worst injury you’d gotten, it was actually on par with a mosquito bite but Bucky didn’t believe you. He slid your towel up and examined your legs, seeing the large print of his hand on your left thigh.

“Y/N…” there he went again with the tears, it was like it was his mission to break your heart. His eyes welled up, waterline turning red as he pulled his hands away from your skin. “I’m so sorry…look what I did, I knew this would happen.” his voice cracked. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him against you.

“Bucky, please don’t go. I promise you it’s okay, I’m okay. I’m not mad, I’m not hurt, it’s not your fault,” you begged him. You wanted him to trust you, to trust himself, to stay with you.

“But it is my fault, I did that,”

“No, you were frightened. You can’t hold yourself accountable for that, Bucky. You were brainwashed, and hearing one of the words that could turn you? Buck, that would force anyone to react the same way. I promise you, I’m okay.” You climbed off of him, scanning for any sign that he believed you but he was still cursing himself for bruising you. Your hands went up to the top of your towel, pulling it open and dropping it to the floor. Bucky looked at you, eyes full of adoration as gazed upon your naked body.

Something churned inside him, a needy ferocity that made him so desperate for your body. The passion burned through him a volcano, fiery and lingering on his skin like he was covered in hot ash. God, he wanted you but he wanted to be so gentle, so careful so he didn’t hurt you. As Bucky’s eyes wandered around your body, he noticed every mark and scar. Beautiful stretch marks adorned your stomach that hung softly past your hip line, more lightning strikes over your hips and thighs, even your arms. Your hip dips were the perfect spot for his large hands like they were made especially for him. Then he noticed the jagged scars that riddled your skin. Your ribs looked like they had been stabbed and sliced with a serrated blade, scars that looked like bullet wounds laid on your stomach. Bucky’s face twisted in distress.

“Baby…?” he reached out for you, large hands sliding their way from your hips to your ribs, he thumbed over the biggest scar gently.

“I have a past of my own, Bucky, so I promise you,” you knelt down in front of him, placing your hands on his meaty thighs, his hands on your cheeks, “I’m okay, and I love you so much.” Bucky leaned down and brought you into a deep kiss, revitalizing the sexual desire in the room.

Not much talking happened after that, which you were thankful for; you weren’t quite ready to explain your past. You slipped your hands under Bucky’s towel and wrapped your fingers around his throbbing cock, the feeling making him moan instantly. It had been decades since he’d felt anything like it. The closest he came was touching himself after visiting your fruit stand at the market, the image of your perfect face and body in his head, so desperate to have you underneath him. And now he did. He had you naked and wrapped around his cock, pumping it gently and looking up into his eyes. Bucky tried so desperately to hold on as long as he could.

You removed the towel and licked your lips, salivating at the thought of him in your mouth. Your fingers slid up and down his length, dribbling precum onto your hand and beckoning delicious moans from Bucky’s pink lips. Your tongue made contact with his shaft, licking up and over the precum on your fingers until it found its way to his tip. Bucky cursed as you slipped him into your mouth, gingerly sucking the head of his cock until you had lapped up everything that had spilled out. Your hand moved down to hold the base of his length, your mouth following it as you took him deeper. He threw his head back, your warm mouth slicking his cock and sliding back and forth. He tangled a hand in your hair, guiding you up and down as his moans filled the honeysuckle air.

You loved the taste of him. His thick and veiny cock filled your mouth so perfectly, sliding over your tongue and hitting the back of your mouth softly. It was pure bliss having him writhe under you, such a bulky man so needy for you, whining and moaning as you stuffed him into your mouth. When you felt him start to twitch, you wanted to go faster, wanted to fill your throat with his warm cum and suck down every last drop. But he stopped you, pulling you off his tender cock and bringing you up into a kiss.

“I don’t want to cum yet, doll, I need to feel you around me,” he breathed between kisses. You moaned against him, straddling his waist again and grinding your wet pussy across his length. Bucky hissed, the tease of your folds almost making him lose control. He let you slide back and forth a few more times before sweeping you into a tight embrace and flipping you onto your bed. You giggled as he kissed your neck, his tongue sliding across your skin until he took your nipple in his mouth. Your hands went immediately to his wet hair, holding him close as he bit and sucked on the sensitive bud, licking circles around it and bringing it back into his mouth.

His metal hand played with the other breast, squishing and pinching the skin and sending tingles to your cheeks.

“Bucky…” the moan of his name made his cock twitch. He groaned against your flesh and let go with a wet pop. Bucky came back up to your face, engulfing you in a wet kiss.

“You’re going to make me cum if you moan my name like that, darling,” his words made you smirk. He was so desirous for you, any little thing could set him off and you loved having that control. Finally, Bucky pulled back from your lips and trailed his tongue down the center of your body until he was lined up with your dripping pussy. The sight alone made him twitch again, so eager to feel you around him but wanting to dive face-first into you. And that he did. He wasted no time submerging himself into your core, face smashed against your skin, his breathing obstructed but he didn’t care.

“Oh fuck, o-oh f-” you yelped at the contact, his tongue dashing out and licking up your juices. You gripped his hair again, pulling it away from his face where it tickled your thighs and held it in a bun. Bucky’s face was moving violently, covered in your slick and feeling every inch of you. You had to tug on his hair to remind him to come up for air. He didn’t care, he would suffocate and die between your legs if it meant he could taste you forever.

“Oh baby, you taste so good,” he panted when you pulled him up for air. You watched him dive back in, barely taking a moment to breathe, blue eyes still looking up at your face that twisted in pleasure. You were so overwhelmed by the feeling that you couldn’t make any sound anymore. Your moans caught in your throat and forced your orgasm to build up. Bucky could tell you were close; your legs were shaking and your pussy throbbed under his touch. He sucked on your clit, pulling it into his mouth and sucking until it was suctioned against his tongue. His hands held your thighs open as you let out the breath you were holding, releasing your orgasm onto his face and into his waiting mouth. He moaned at the taste, lapping up every drop and licking his lips. He placed a small kiss on your sensitive clit before kissing up your body.

Bucky’s lips were on yours in an instant. Hungry and needy as he pulled your legs up to open you wide, allowing him easy access to line himself up. He looked at you, your face still settling from the intense high you just coated him with.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly as his tip teased your aching vagina.

“Yes, Bucky, please…I wanna feel you, I want you to fuck me-” he shoved himself inside, eyes rolling back in his head immediately as the feeling of your wet warmth blanketed his cock.

“Holy shit,” he breathed as he slid most of the way out, leaving just his tip past the threshold. You put your hands on his shoulders to try and gain some stability. Your pussy was swollen from his mouth and so tender as he slapped down into it. Long, hard strokes started him off, stretching you out around his phenomenally thick cock and had you moaning his name. You were so beautiful in the candlelight, skin glistening now from sweat and looking like it was encrusted in diamonds tinted orange by the flame, contrasted by the blue of the moonlight that seeped in from the window like a complimentary paint palette. Your body was soft and jiggled with each thrust he made. He kneaded your skin, thick fingers squished every inch he could reach. He couldn’t get enough of your body–god, you were so beautiful, so enchanting, so tantalizing. So perfect.

Bucky pressed his big body down to yours, picking up the pace and caging your head in his arms. His lips were grazing over yours, moving up and down with every quick thrust but not kissing you. Just teasing flesh on flesh and trading warm breathy pants.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling–f-fuck, you’re so-” the knot in his stomach snapped, twitching his cock and releasing a flood of warm cum into your beating vagina. As soon as it hit your plump walls, you shook, screaming out an orgasm that had Bucky begging in your ear.

“Just like that baby, oh shit, just like that. Cum for me, cum for me, good girl,” his words so filled with lust that you could’ve cum a third time.

When Bucky cleaned you up, he made sure to pepper kisses on the bruise on your thigh, still apologizing profusely for it. You allowed him one apology acceptance then went back to refusing to believe he needed to say sorry. After blowing out the candles, Bucky laid down next to you, wrapping you in his big arms and kissing your neck tenderly.

“I love you,” he whispered, breathing softening as the exhaustion took over him.

“I love you too, Buck, so much,” you felt him sigh against your skin. A good sigh. A happy sigh. One last kiss to your neck–triggering a broken flashback.

The Russian man kissed your neck as you unlocked the door to a secret room, soft whispers in his language spoken in your ear as you guided him behind the door. Black clouded your vision. Once it cleared, you were sitting in a large chair. You tipped your head forward, eyes leaving the ceiling and looking down at the body on the floor. The Russian man, soaked in blood and lying lifeless on the tile. A blade in your right hand, martini in the other.

[*1]

[2*] - UGH, every gif is literally RIGHT before or RIGHT after his little jaw clench. Close enough though.

Your hands had found their way to Bucky's long hair, tangled in his locks and pressed tightly against his scalp. Bucky had your back pressed against the kitchen island, his broad body engulfing yours as he gripped your wide hips. His tongue was dancing in perfect harmony with yours, tasting every inch of your mint-flavored mouth. When you made the decision to bring him those plums, you made sure to perform expert dental hygiene as if you were going to the dentist to lie about flossing every day. You weren't sure where this particular moment was going to go, but you never wanted to leave his embrace.

As you slid one hand from his hair to the base of his neck and the other to his shoulder, he hiked up your leg, wrapping it around his thick waist and pressing into you further. You moaned at the contact, feeling his crotch firm against yours, desperate for more. He was irresistible. Though you hadn't known each other long, you couldn't deny how he made you feel, insatiable and electric. A fire burned through your body when you saw him, the desire so passionate it made you question if this was love at first sight–if it was, you were a true believer.

It was then that Bucky stopped. He gently lowered your leg and pressed his forehead to yours, panting softly with pink, tender lips. You inhaled deep, trying to calm your breathing as you watched him; waiting for the reason he stopped, aching for him but not wanting to cross any boundaries. Finally, he spoke, soft and harrowed, something was stirring behind his eyes, like he was processing the moment.

“I’m sorry,” his words were so quiet it could be misconstrued as just a breath, “I want to, I do…I just, I think we should take this slow. It’s been a while, and I don’t want to hurt you,” his eyebrows stitched together, a mixture of worry and disquietude. He wanted so desperately to let go, but he was scared of the outcome. It had been decades since he last dated, or even felt any kind of normalcy. He didn’t know how to love anymore.

“It’s okay, Bucky, I understand,” you had gotten your breathing under control and just looked at him with loving eyes. You wanted to take away his pain, melt away all his worries until he was comfortable and happy until he was free from whatever barriers held him.

You pressed your head up, nudging his forehead that still laid on yours. He opened his eyes and looked into yours; still, not a single shred of judgment could be found in them. Bucky’s lip quivered as he tried to stifle a sob, looking away from you to gain control over his emotions. Your hands met his cheeks and you planted a soft kiss to the tip of his nose–it was tender and soothing, a calm washed over his face. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and placed another small kiss on his neck, not a kiss of lust, but one of pure comfort. A reminder that you were there and weren’t leaving.

“Would you like to lay down instead?” you asked gingerly. Bucky’s eyes met yours again, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth presented itself to you and he nodded before being led by you to his mattress. You straightened out the blanket and motioned for him to lay down first before taking off your shoes and flannel and laying down next to him. You pressed into his shoulder, telling him to scoot down and he complied, unsure what you were doing but allowing it nonetheless. When his face was level with your chest, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and head, pressing him against your body and stroking his hair.

Bucky was tense at first, being cuddled was entirely new to him and he didn’t know how to react. You were warm and inviting, a much better pillow than the raggedy old one he had. It didn’t take long for him to get comfortable, laying his flesh arm around your waist and pulling you closer, pressing his face against your chest and closing his eyes. You continued to stroke his hair, fingers running softly against his scalp, massaging him and tingling his skull. You hummed softly as combed through his hair, the vibrations in your chest lulling him to sleep.

You woke up to find Bucky still wrapped in your arms, this time you were both on your sides and his face was pressed into your neck, your chin sat atop his head. You smiled, tired eyes trying to close and continue to rest but you forced them awake, kissing the top of his head and moving ever so slightly to look at his face. Bucky was already awake, his blue eyes flicking up to yours as you moved.

“Good morning handsome,” you smiled, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. He hummed softly, a small grin gracing his stubbled face.

“Good morning,” he kissed your throat, brushing the tip of his nose along your skin until he was at your lips, leaving another soft kiss. You pushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ear and looking at him.

“How are you feeling?” Your voice was gentle, genuine. He furrowed his brows for a moment, inhaling deeply before smirking.

“Hungry,” he chuckled. You laughed along with him, another kiss to his forehead, it was harder, playful this time. You slid out of his grasp and stood up, shuffling toward the kitchen as he sat up and watched you peak in the fridge. The shelves were empty, not even a condiment bottle stocked it.

“Hey, babes, you don’t have any food.” babes? Fuck. You cringed as the words left your mouth, typically you said that to your friends, but you hadn’t explained that to Bucky and you weren’t sure what he’d think about it, you didn’t mean to call him ‘babe’, it just slipped out. Bucky chuckled again, standing up and coming over to you.

“Yeah, I don’t really cook, doll,” he put extra emphasis on that last word in response to you saying ‘babes’. You rolled your eyes before trailing your eyes down his frame. You were glad he was still open to you being there, you were afraid that he would close up last night and shut you out. But he seemed okay, he was charming and soft, a contrast to what you’d seen leading up to this moment.

“Lucky for you, I do cook. Come with me to my place, I’ll treat you to some fresh and delicious food,” you placed your hands on his cheeks, brushing your thumbs over the stubble with a smile.

“Already inviting me to your place before a date? That’s pretty scandalous, Y/N,” his hands went to your hips, keeping half an arm’s length away from you, but the contact of his hands alone made you melt.

“Then let’s call it a breakfast date, I live on pretty decent land, maybe we’ll even take a stroll,” you winked. You gathered your things and led him out to your car, a Dacia Sandero Stepway. Plenty of space for you, but a bit of a squeeze for the incredibly large man sat to your left.

When you arrived at the gate to your orchard, just outside of Bucharest, Bucky peered out of the window, taking in the vast land that led to a large house. The fields were full of trees and crops, one area was strictly for raising chickens and they scattered around at the sound of your car driving up the dirt path.

“Wow,” was all Bucky could say. You parked in front of a two-story house, long and full of windows, different colored stones stacked high and adorned with a gray tiled roof and two chimneys. You led him to the wide wooden front door and took out a large keyring with half a dozen skeleton keys on it.

“This house is pretty old, it’s been in my family for generations,” you explain as you unlock the door. You stood in the foyer and set your keys on a set of drawers against a wall. The floor was a rich teak wood, freshly shined and exposed except for the rug that sat in front of the door. The walls were a sage green and complimented the dark wood around the windows. “This way.” You waved Bucky toward the hallway to the right of the door. The other side led to a staircase that took you to the bedroom on the second floor, where you’d eventually find yourself with Bucky, you hoped.

In the kitchen, you opened the emerald green Smeg refrigerator and showcased your fresh fruits, veggies, and meat.

“This is what a fridge should look like, Barnes,” you winked. He laughed and sat at the island, watching you prepare a hearty breakfast. Bucky watched you dance around the kitchen, a perfect flow and routine to everything you did. It was mesmerizing. The last time he’d remembered a moment like this was when his mother would cook in the 1920s.

“Is that…?” Bucky perked up when he saw the radio sitting on a side table in the room. “It is! A Silvertone 4569. I remember these…” he trailed off, clenching his jaw and clearing his throat as you came over to him, spatula in hand and apron wrapped tightly around your body.

“I mean, I remember my family had one, it was in my grandparent's house,” he lied. He didn’t like lying to you, but he wasn’t ready to explain that he was actually 100 years old.

“Really? It was passed down with the house, it still works if you want to turn something on,” Bucky’s eyes lit up as he fiddled with the knobs on the front of the wooden radio. He found an oldies station while you returned to cooking. This moment was like a dream; classic music playing on a vintage radio as you cooked a meal for the two of you. It was a slice of domestic life that Bucky had always wanted but never had the chance to have. For a moment, he forgot all about his Winter Soldier past and just savored this memory.

After you ate, you showed Bucky the grounds. Walking linked by the arm through bushes and trees of fruits. There had been an incident with the chickens where they chased Bucky after he’d attempted to gather eggs with you. You didn’t think you’d ever see such a large man threaten to maim a chicken for running a little too fast and too aggressively at him, but that day changed that. After rescuing Bucky from the flock of chickens, you took him on a much calmer path–the plum trees.

“Have you ever harvested plums before?” you asked as you set your basket down next to a full tree. It was another hand-woven basket, a little rougher than the one you gave to Bucky since it was the one you typically had with you in the field.

“I have not,” he pushed his eyebrows together, looking at the plums hanging on the tree, “seems easy enough though, right?” he was genuinely asking, not wanting to do it wrong and harm your poor tree.

“It is! Just feel the plum, if it’s a little soft, it's ready to be picked. Then just twist it until it comes off, super easy.” You demonstrated for him then watched as he felt a plum, looked at you for approval, then twisted it and pulled it from the branch after you nodded. He smiled at the plum in his hand, it was such a small gesture, picking a plum; but it was a peaceful and simple moment that he’d been lacking.

“Great! I can put you to work, for your efforts, I’ll even let you have as many as you want any time you want.” You smirked at him. Bucky smiled, his eyes full of adoration as he watched you walk over to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his clothed chest softly.

Later that day, you drove Bucky back to his place. Rounding the car, he met you at the sidewalk, dubiously brushing your hair behind your ear. As the night went on, he began to feel the weight of his past creeping back up. He didn’t want to keep it a secret from you, especially after having a day full of possibilities he never knew he could have. But he didn’t want to burden you with it, and he still wasn’t sure if he could even allow himself the pleasure of being with you. Bucky knew that eventually he would be found, probably by The Avengers, and taken prisoner for his crimes as the Winter Soldier. And he didn’t want to drag you into it.

But seeing you in front of him, so sweet, so loving–it was overwhelming and confusing. He couldn’t help but fall victim to his wants and needs. His fingers brushed over your round cheek until they gently slid over the soft skin of your chin and down your throat, trailing across your clavicle to your shoulder. You had changed clothes after the harvesting you’d done, putting on another tank top and jeans that hugged your plump thighs, showing off your hip dips. Bucky’s blue eyes trailed his finger’s touch until he looked back up to your lips, then eyes.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, tongue gliding over his bottom lip.

“For what?” your voice was equally as soft, filled with anticipation waiting for his next move. He was so gorgeous under the moonlight, face half-lit like a Chiaroscuro painting, and eyelids low with a gentle yet intense glimmer in his blue irises.

“For today, I needed it. I don’t know the last time I had fun,” Bucky furrowed his brows, trying to recall the last time he felt joy like that. The Stark Expo in 1943. He brought his attention back to you.

“Well, Buck, I’m always here for more fun, you also have to take me out on a second date,” you nudged his shoulder with a smile.

“Oh? When did we agree on that?” he chuckled, eyes squinting with joy.

“Right now,” you responded, bringing your hands up to his shoulders and never breaking your gaze into his eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to plan something more than laying in bed, huh?”

“Laying in bed is a perfectly acceptable date, especially with books,” you smiled. Bucky’s eyes went to your lips again. Fuck, he’s gotta stop doing that.

“Then how about we have our second date now? I might not have food, but I do have a few books.” He smiled back, stepping closer to you until you could feel his breath on your face.

“Sounds like a date, Barnes.” There it was again. The feeling of pure love. It knotted his stomach and made him lean down and plant a sweet and slow kiss to your lips. You returned the gesture, trailing your hands up his neck and holding him close. Bucky pushed you against the car, lips becoming more eager and heavy breathing beginning to fall from his lips. As much as you wanted to continue, you remembered what he’d said earlier and gently pushed into his shoulders until he broke the kiss.

“Taking it slow, remember?” you sighed and pecked him on the lips.

The air was thick around you and the long-haired man who stood in the doorway. A mixture of sexual tension, pure adoration, and hesitation as you surveyed each other. Bucky’s eyes fluttered from yours for a moment to analyze your form. You held a basket of plums that you grew on the large farm you had inherited from your family–the basket itself was handwoven by you, a skill learned as a child with your grandmother. You were wearing jean shorts that were hiked up enough that the inner fat of your thighs was on full display but left enough to the imagination. An unbuttoned flannel was over the black tank top tucked into them, one that hugged your body and showcased every curve and roll that Bucky loved so much.

He looked back at your eyes, patient and kind, the kind of warmth he was missing in his life. You hadn’t hung out much, well, at all, but you consistently helped him with tasks, offering your help any chance you could. You’d first met him when he came to your stand at the market, buying a few plums and shying away from any lengthy conversation. Something about you caught his eye though, and he came back in two days for more plums. It had become a routine; every two days he’d show up for more fruit and the conversation would get a little longer each time. He would let slip little projects he was working on and things he needed to find to complete them, and when he’d show up you would have what he needed. His eyes would be filled with such disbelief that someone would want to help him.

You had grown to have undeniable feelings for this mysterious man, a man who seemed like he was running from something, unable to settle down and let himself enjoy a moment’s peace. So there you stood, at his door with a basket of plums, waiting for him to invite you inside. Bucky’s jaw clenched, not with anger, but trepidation, unsure and scared of what would follow if he accepted your company. He didn’t want to bring your innocence into his mess of a life but he longed for the comfort and presence of another. Bucky parted his lips, breathing deeply as he thought about his next move–he hadn’t even said hello yet, just looked at you, overwhelmed by your beauty.

“Hi,” was all he could manage and you saw the gears turning in his head, chastising himself over his lack of originality. Nonetheless, you smiled, eyes brightening with warmth at his timidity.

“Hi,” you offered back, relaxing his nerves a bit. “I just wanted to bring you some plums, free of charge. I harvested this really great bunch and they felt too special to sell, and I don’t know anyone who loves plums as much as you, so I thought you would enjoy them.” You were rambling. Nervously rambling as you held bashful eye contact with the large man in front of you until your face became so warm you thought you’d have a heat stroke. You looked down, thumbs gently flicking at the woven pieces of the basket while a smile crept across his face.

“I’d love them, thank you,” Bucky moved to the side to let you into his apartment. It was dingy and small, his mattress was on the ground and he barely had any personal belongings. You looked back up at him with a large grin, extending your hands to give him the basket before entering his place. You leaned against the kitchen island as he placed the basket on the counter before turning his attention back to you.

“So, nice place,” you said with a hint of tease lingering on your words, a sheepish smile on your face. Bucky chuckled, glancing around the small space then looking at his feet.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on staying here very long,” he trailed off.

“What made you stay?” butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of his answer being you, maybe he thought you were important enough to stay in town, but you quickly stifled the feeling. You barely knew each other when you really thought about it, the passing glances and shy conversation were surely not enough to warrant his stay.

Bucky came around the island and stood in front of you. He wasn’t wearing his usual jacket and hat, you saw them tossed haphazardly over a chair, instead, he was wearing a red long sleeve shirt. One hand was stuffed in his pocket since he opened the door, the other slid across the counter until it was next to your arm. You swallowed hard at the closeness, eyes trailing up his wide chest until they watched his tongue lick over his bottom lip, then to his blue eyes.

“I didn’t expect to meet you,” his eyes sized up your frame again, noting every soft curve, “you’re gorgeous,” his voice was a whisper, almost broken like he was fighting with himself to say the words. You let out a sharp breath, watching his lips get closer to you as he stepped forward. You reached out a hand and laid it on his left arm, sliding it down to his wrist. Bucky recoiled, remembering the metal that laid under his sleeve. You grabbed him, not letting him get too far away.

“It’s okay, I know,” your voice was soft and reassuring. Bucky’s eyes fluttered with pained awareness, almost watering at the thought. “Your sleeve rode up a little one day, I saw the silver,” he looked down, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping to make you disappear into a dream. He couldn’t handle you knowing about his arm, as much as he wanted you to be real and to love him, he wanted this moment to be part of his subconscious. When he glanced back up to see you standing there, his face twisted in sadness. You placed your other hand on his cheek, bringing his face up to look at you.

“Bucky, I’m still here, aren’t I?” You were. You were there with him, even after seeing the arm, you still came to him and treated him exactly as you had the entire time. Bucky opened his eyes and looked at you, finding no sign of judgment. “I’m sure that’s a story you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me one day, it doesn’t have to be today, but I’m going to stick around to hear it, okay?” you reassured him.

“Whoa, I haven’t seen her, what happened?” Steve sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake at the urgency in Bucky’s voice. The super-soldier could barely breathe, one text from you sent him into a panic and he was worried for your safety. Steve could see the tears streaming down his face, eyes swollen red and voice cracking with each sentence.

“Where is she?!” Bucky yelled through the halls of the Avengers compound. He had been searching everywhere for you, all night and now into the morning. He banged on the doors of everyone who was there, frantically trying to find any clue as to where you were.

“She texted me last night, something about how she’s grateful that she met me and she loves me,” Steve furrowed his brow.

“That doesn’t sound bad?” Steve sat on the edge of the bed, watching Bucky pace with his hands rubbing down his face, tears soaking his palms.

“You don’t understand, it was a goodbye, Steve. It was a final statement, I think she’s going to hurt herself.” Bucky sobbed, swallowing hard trying to contain himself but he couldn’t. Steve looked alarmed and stood up, placing his arms around the other man and bringing him into a tender hug.

“Alright, Buck, we’ll find her.” Steve knew you had always been troubled, it wasn’t the first time you wanted to hurt yourself, it wasn’t the first time you tried. But you had been so good with Bucky, you balanced each other and they thought you were doing better. Little did anyone know, you were miserable. You wished it was enough, the Avengers, having a purpose, saving the world, Bucky, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. You didn’t want to be alive anymore and you didn’t know what to do. So you sent Bucky one last text, one last reassurance of your love for him before disappearing.

You were on the top of a tall building. Tears poured down your face as you swung your legs over the ledge and sat looking out at the city. Every emotion felt amplified, it felt like your body might explode and your heart burst into a million pieces. You couldn’t shake the feeling of your chest tightening, it was like a pressurized chamber that was ready to release steam. You watched the people and cars below, wondering what they were doing, what they were thinking, where they were going. What problems did they have, were they suicidal? Would this be their last day on earth, or would they live another fifty years? Did they have people who loved them, or were they alone? So many lives, so many stories, the world felt so full and so overwhelming. There was too much going on, too much to focus on, too much to handle.

You’d spent your whole life trying to live up to others’ expectations, to their dreams, navigating through a life that wasn’t yours. A pawn in a game you didn’t want to play. Just an object for others to use for their personal gain and needs. Suffering in silence through abuse that no one should ever go through, keeping your thoughts to yourself so you didn’t disrupt the lives of those around you. You had tried to end it before, to be rid of this life, but it only blew up in your face. No one ever let you live it down, “how could you do this to us?!” instead of “how can we help?” and it made you retreat into yourself even further.

Bucky had been a constant reminder that you were loved, someone who understood you and cared about your wellbeing so thoroughly that it felt unreal. His love was all-consuming and genuine and it made you feel unworthy. Nothing in your life had ever reassured you that you were worthy of that type of love, that your life meant enough to accept it. You felt he was better off, that he should refocus his love somewhere else on someone who deserved it. You wanted so desperately to accept all he had to offer and to repay him, but how could you? What about you was good enough for a life of true love? What about you was important enough for him and the life you’d build together? You couldn’t see it; you couldn’t see past the black smog of your past, you only saw the inevitability of death.

You inched closer to the edge, your hands gripped the cement ledge behind you as you leaned forward, looking down past your feet. You were about fifty stories up from the busy city streets, legs dangling against the skyscraper and tears dripping into your lap. You took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you prepared yourself to jump. This was it. This would be the time you successfully ended it. You sat for a moment, taking in the cool breeze at that height. It chilled your cheeks and ran goosebumps down your neck. Slowly you let one hand go, tipping forward even further until you were just held up by the grip of your left hand. If you let go, the weight of your body would thrust you forward until you were tumbling through the air.

With your eyes still shut, you tilted your head up until you could feel the sun on your skin. It was warm, contrasting the breeze, and made you smile. Finally. The sweet relief of death. You thought about everything you’d be leaving behind, Bucky’s face appeared in your thoughts and you sobbed for him. You’d be missing his touch, his gentle caress as he soothed you at night, the feeling of his hands on your body as you made love, his sweet voice ringing through your ears, calling your name. You swore you could hear it then, his voice echoing through the air, getting louder and louder until it pierced through your thoughts.

He was there. Standing at the other end of the roof, watching with wide, terrified eyes as you hung from the ledge. His voice was broken, seething with pain and confusion as he called out to you, unable to find any other words but your name. Your smile faded, skin going cold as you realized he was there, watching you at the end of your life. You didn’t want him to see it, you couldn’t face him in this state and you didn’t want the memory of your death to linger with him forever. He’d been through so much.

“Please…” his voice made you cry, it was so dejected. “Please don’t,” you could hear him inching closer to you, the atmosphere shifting around his presence and the air was thick with grief.

“Please don’t come any closer,” you cried, slipping your hand up the edge of the roof until only your fingertips held you in place.

“Y/N…please, don’t do this,” there were no words he could form to fully convey the weight of his emotions at that moment. He could only beg. Beg for you to stop. Beg for you to realize just how much you were loved. How much your life mattered.

“I can’t get it to stop, Buck,” you cried into the morning sky.

“Get what to stop?” he asked as he inched closer, hoping to keep you talking until he could grab you back to safety.

“Does the feeling ever go away? The feeling of wanting to die? I just don’t feel good enough, Bucky, I can’t help it,” you couldn’t stop crying, your throat was hoarse and sweat had run into your crying eyes and made them burn. You rubbed your free hand over your face in an attempt to clear up your vision. The hand that held you up was getting clammy, eventually, you’d slip and fall, but you held on, waiting for the right moment. Bucky’s presence put a halt to your plan–something in you wanted to run to him, to just be held until all your worries were gone, but you just wanted to be done with everything. You didn’t want to hurt anymore.

“Y/N, I promise you, you’re going to get through this. There is always hope as long as you hold on. You are so loved by so many people-”

“No I’m not–I’m so replaceable, Buck, give it time, I won’t even be a passing thought,” you cut him off, your mind edging on the decision to let go. It was like a weight balancing between the two choices, little by little the decision to jump was weighing further down.

“Listen to me, Y/N, I won’t ever get over you. I can’t do this without you, you are everything to me,” Bucky was only a few feet away now. His voice was only a whisper as he choked on his tears. “Y/N, I’m begging you, let me help, let me love you so thoroughly you’ll never question if you matter again.” You opened your eyes, feeling the weight shift to the other side of the scale, questioning whether this was the right decision.

Bucky reached out for your wrist, slowly to not startle you. Just as his metal fingers were about to meet your skin, your hand became too clammy and you slipped. The fear of losing everything you had rushed through your body as you fell; your life with Bucky, the life you made as an Avenger, all the people you’ve saved, you realized in that split second that you didn’t want to die, you just wanted the pain to stop.

Your scream rattled Bucky to the core, it was a long and pained sound, something so earth-shattering that Bucky almost didn’t react in time. As you felt the gravity pull your body to the ground, churning your stomach and dropping it like you were on a rollercoaster, Bucky reached over the edge and grabbed your wrist. Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulder to keep him from flying over the ledge himself, you didn’t even realize he was there until you saw him through watery eyes. Bucky’s features were twisted in agony, his face scrunched up and sopping wet as he cried out a groan pulling you to safety and yanking you into his arms. He held your body so tight against his that you thought the force would crush your bones. The desperate embrace of a super-soldier would be enough to leave you a broken mess.

“I love you so much, god I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Bucky cried into your hair, not risking loosening his hold on you, afraid you’ll disappear from him again. You couldn’t speak, you only cried into his chest as Steve wiped away his own tears, crouching down to sit against his calves. He tried to compose himself as he watched you and Bucky, the fear never leaving his soul.

Bucky carried you home, taking you to the compound to get your shoulder checked. The force of him catching you had pulled the muscle so you had to wear a sling. He never left your side the entire time, watching you so intently as if you’d vanish into thin air before his eyes. You barely spoke; ashamed and embarrassed about the event that took place. You were in a haze of dread, a zombie walking through the halls filled with shame and pain. Pain that numbed your soul and kept your mind blank as Bucky navigated you where you needed to be.

He kept reassuring you that he loved you, promising to take care of you and to take you away for a while. And he did, he stayed with you while Steve and the others loaded up a car and got everything ready for your departure. Bucky held you close, arm wrapped around your shoulders as he walked you out and helped you into the passenger seat.

“Y/N, you are so loved here, I am so sorry for everything that you are going through, but I need you to know, even if you don’t believe it, that you are so important to all of us.” Steve had placed his hand on your weeping face as he spoke to you through the open window of the door. You could only manage a soft whisper of a “thank you” before Bucky held your hand, driving off to a remote location where he could take care of you, holding you and letting you cry into him for days until you couldn’t form tears any longer. Somewhere where he could make you believe just how much you meant to him.

“Maybe I should do a different shirt? I don’t know how I feel about the white tank,”

“Y/N, you look fine, come on!” your friend, Nina, yanked your arm and pulled you from in front of the mirror. You had spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out what was wrong with your outfit. It was a yellow plaid pencil skirt with a tucked-in turtleneck tank top; you had dainty gold chains over the shirt and chunky heels with frilly socks that peeked out from the top. You were trying to decide if you should put an oversized jacket over it, but something other than that felt off.

“For the love of God, Y/N, it looks great, we’re gonna be late,” Nina threw your denim jacket at you and waited by the door. Her arms were crossed and an annoyed look was on her face. You rolled your eyes at her and slipped on the light blue jacket. She was dragging you to one of her underground parties, this one was in an abandoned subway station and was not your vibe, but you loved your friend so you agreed to go with her. She wasn’t really annoyed with you, you just tended to be the cause of tardiness every single time and there was a girl she was looking forward to seeing.

You followed her down the dusty steps of the station, loud music blared from somewhere nearby and echoed through the tunnels. You walked by people dressed in baggy jeans and jackets, most of them had beanies on and smelled of weed. Some others were dressed in dark skinny jeans and t-shirts, you swore you walked into a Converse ad. As you entered the main area, you were met with a dancing crowd and smog of marijuana. There were only a couple people dressed similarly to you but they were off with their friends and only gave you a nod of welcome as you traversed the abandoned station. Nina found the girl she was smitten with, a blue-haired, dark-skinned baddie with looks that could kill. You engaged in conversation with them for most of the night.

A couple hours in, people had created a mosh pit on the empty tracks, bumping and pushing each other to the music that played. Ice Nine Kills, Nina had told you. A band whose music was themed around horror movies. You couldn’t deny it was good, it made you almost want to get in the pit yourself. You settled for the circle pit on the platform though, a much safer option for someone who didn’t want to get knocked in the face and bleed on the crisp white tank on their body.

After going around and around the circle pit, jumping and running and laughing with Nina and your fourth alcoholic drink in hand, you had to take a break. It was nearing the time that you would take off your shoes and smoke a stranger’s blunt, so you scanned the crowd, looking for the perfect victim. That’s when you spotted him, a dark-haired, mysterious man sitting in the corner with a perfectly wrapped joint hanging from his lips. He watched you come to a stop in the pit, eyeing him and drunkenly walking toward him. He brandished a smile and sucked in a large puff of smoke, releasing it in your direction as you stood in front of him.

“Care to share?” you asked, your words slurring ever so slightly as you reached your hand out. He flicked his eyebrows up and picked the blunt from his lips, tipping the mouth end toward you for you to take. You smiled and grabbed it, your fingers brushing against his thick ones before holding it to your mouth and taking a long, deep drag of it. The longer you sucked, the bigger the man’s smile got, until you released it with a long, smooth exhale. He expected you to cough, to feel the burn of the smoke make your throat coarse and force you into a fit of coughs as you tried to breathe. But you didn’t. It was almost seductive, the way you released the neverending stream of smoke until your lips curled into a smile.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, tipping his head back a bit as if to project his voice up to your standing figure.

“Y/N,”

“I know,” he said as he took the blunt from you. You furrowed your brows, you didn’t remember meeting him before, you wouldn’t have forgotten such a beautiful man.

“Yeah? How’s that?” you asked as you sat on the empty milk crate beside him, crossing your legs to close the gap in your skirt. You traded the blunt back and forth as you spoke.

“You were at the last party, the one in the water tower. I’d remember that preppy little outfit any day,” that was it. That’s what was wrong with your outfit. You wore the exact same thing to the last party. Your cheeks became flush, embarrassed that he probably thought you didn’t wash your clothes. Not that he seemed like the peak of cleanliness.

“Also, I know Nina, she doesn’t shut up about you,” he shrugged and dragged on the joint again, exhaling the smoke and watching the crowd. They were dancing to Christmas music covers by indie and punk bands now, a much more appropriate playlist seeing as it was Christmas Eve.

“Funny, she doesn’t talk about you,” you joked, offering him the last puff. He smiled and looked down, shaking his head and letting you finish off the weed. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, the red Christmas lights that hung haphazardly around the lengths of the brick walls illuminated his face. You couldn’t see his eye color, it was shadowed by his brows and he was tinted red from the lights.

“So, do you always wear the same outfit to these things?” he looked at you, his smile never fading.

“Believe it or not, I actually have a full closet of outfits,”

“Ooh, a full closet you say? So, you just really like this one or something?” ugh. He was intoxicating. The way he felt comfortable enough to joke around with you made you ease up a bit.

“Listen, Buck, that party was so long ago I didn’t remember that I wore this,” you rolled your eyes.

“Funny, I remembered, isn’t that what’s supposed to matter?” he took a swig from his near-empty beer.

“Only if it’s someone important who remembers,” you smirked, unsure if that joke would be a step too far but being too drunk to marinate on it. Luckily, he laughed. A good, hearty laugh.

“I guess you’re right,” he shook his beer bottle, the last sip swishing around the bottom, “I need another, wanna come with?” he looked at you. God, she’s beautiful.

“Sure, but how about we get it somewhere else?” you winked. His eyes flashed to yours, before trailing down your body. Bucky smiled wide, perfect white teeth in full view before he slid his tongue across them. He stood up, straightening out his jeans before extending a hand to you. You took it and groaned as you stood, the ache in your feet present now with the pressure. You paused, leaning down to unclasp your shoes and take them off, holding them by the straps as you took his hand again. You tapped Nina on the shoulder as you walked by, telling her that you were leaving.

You and Bucky walked down the dark sidewalk in search of a bar that would be open. After block after block of zero luck, you decided to take a break from walking and sit on the curb of the empty street.

“I probably shouldn’t drink anymore anyway,” you chuckled softly. You rested your head on Bucky’s shoulder, a closeness you’d only share with a stranger after being intoxicated. He welcomed it though, the warmth of your body relaxed the chills the cold winter air caused him. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to get warmer, a skirt and tank top was a poor choice of outfit. Bucky noticed, taking in the sight of goosebumps on your face and neck. He slipped off his corduroy jacket and laid it over your shoulders. You accepted it, surprised that he would offer his one thing of warmth to a stranger.

“Thanks,” you muttered, resting back on him. He smiled and wrapped his metal arm around you. The arm took you by surprise, it was black and gold, and fuck it was cool.

“We should get you home,” he said against the top of your head, before helping you stand up.

By the time you reached your apartment on foot, you had sobered up quite a bit and got to know Bucky more. You stood on the steps, slipping off his jacket and handing it over to him. He took it and folded his hands underneath, pressing it against his chest. He watched you fiddle with the end of your own jacket, not wanting to part from him quite yet.

“Well, I should probably let you go in and get some rest, you had quite a busy night,” his voice was warm and light, he motioned randomly with one hand that he slipped out from under the jacket.

“Yeah, you’re right, running around town with some rando really exhausts you,” you smiled at him, “honestly, I’m surprised you’re not inviting yourself inside,” Bucky chuckled, looking down and flashing his eyes up at you.

“If you want me to come inside, darling all you have to do is ask,”

“Oh?” you took a few steps down to be closer to him, “well, who says I even think you’re cute enough to warrant such an idea?” your voice was lower now, seductive and waiting, waiting to see how he’d react. Bucky took a step closer as well until the clouds of your cold breath were one and the same.

“Maybe it is me who would like to come in, maybe you make my heart pound, and the thought of being away from you without so much as a kiss goodnight makes my stomach churn,” he was whispering, eyes dark and looking slowly between your lips and your eyes. Your stomach was consumed by butterflies. Swallowing hard you leaned forward until your lips almost touched. His eyes were locked on yours. You could see the color now under the street light, the purest, most beautiful blue you’d ever seen.

“But if I invite you in, you’ll see that I don’t actually have different clothes, my closet just looks like a cartoon character’s wardrobe. The same outfit labeled for different days,” you pulled away with a chuckle and a smirk. Hiking back up the steps, you turned around when you reached the door.

“You’re insufferable,” Bucky laughed. It was hard, almost a cough but it was pure. A release of sexual tension left his body with it and he was left wanting more, enticed by the chase.

It was Christmas Eve, and Lord did the universe want it to be a white Christmas. The blizzard outside the large windows was blinding and deafening. The wind sounded like a train as it rattled the glass, and the pelting snow was like tiny bullets that you thought could shatter it at any moment.

Fuck. You couldn't get comfortable, flipping and wrapping and flipping and wrapping, until you were cocooned in your fluffy duvet. The temperature read a crisp 17 degrees Fahrenheit on the digital thermostat in your room. You struggled to get warm, pushing yourself as far as possible into the corner of your bed, surrounded by pillows and other blankets. Anything to provide some kind of warmth.

You watched the white flurry, imagining it was a warm and sunny island. Somewhere that you could bask in the sun for some much-needed vitamin D. Mm, vitamin D, you know who could give you some D? Your roommate Bucky. You shook the intrusive thoughts from your mind, coming back to reality and seeing the cold death outside again. You groaned, flipping over to stare at your door.

It had been seven months since you moved in with Bucky. You were a rough, emotionally damaged mess of an assassin when he and Sam took you in from Madripoor. Your life had never known peace, just criminal dealings such as theft, spying, counterfeiting, oh and a big one, murder. You had run into them while working with the Power Broker, and after they needed your help and vice versa, they had offered to bring you back to the States for “rehabilitation”. You were anxious at first, never knowing the feeling of love and friendship, but it was something you had grown to welcome.

Since Bucky was all alone in New York, he figured you could stay with him until you got your bearings. As the months went on, it became increasingly obvious that you both liked each other and he didn’t want you to move out. Though, it was only obvious to those around you. Both you and Bucky were oblivious to the mutual pining and it had surpassed being annoying to others since you acted like a couple that was on the brink of marriage.

You clicked your tongue, deciding whether or not to go find Bucky for warmth, running all the scenarios through your head. What if he gets weirded out? What if he’s already asleep? Surely, he is, I don’t want to bother him. What if he’s masturbating? Does he masturbate? Does he use the metal hand? I wonder if he has more stamina if he does…you shook the thoughts from your mind, springing up out of bed with your blanket wrapped around you like a cloak. You anxiously tiptoed out of your room, peering around the corners to investigate for any signs of life.

Sometimes Bucky would be awake, unable to sleep because of the nightmares and he would just sit on the floor in the living room. You practically had to beg to get furniture so there was actually a couch in there now. When you didn’t notice any signs of him outside of his room, you went to his door, hesitating before gently tapping your knuckles to it. No answer. There was no light under the door and no sound, so you figured he wasn’t in any sexually explicit positions. You gently knocked again, this time you opened the door slowly. Peeking inside you saw a lump on the bed. Curled up under the blanket was a sleeping Bucky.

You tiptoed over to him, seeing the lump of his body slowly rising and falling with each calm breath he took. You smiled, your body rushing with warmth at the sight. His resting face was so peaceful, his eyes gently closed and mouth slightly agape; his lips were pink and looked soft, so soft. You couldn’t see any of his body because he had the blanket pulled up to his chin, just as you had, so you figured he was probably freezing as well. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for the closeness and hoped not to scare him, then you pulled his blanket back enough to slide into the bed.

Bucky immediately felt the dip in the mattress as you climbed in, whipping around startled to see you like a deer in headlights. Your descent into the bed was already in motion, so when he turned around, you toppled over and fell right on his chest. Unexpectedly, he let out a very loud scream which caused you to audibly gasp and start choking on the air that whipped into your throat. The noise he made surprised even him, causing his cheek to burn red with embarrassment. You were tangled in your blanket and pressed against his chest as you tried to calm your cough, Bucky was frantic, unsure how to help or even register what was happening. He tugged your blanket away from your body as you squirmed, trying to get out of it, and finally, he got you free.

You calmed down and sat up, sitting on heels and covering your face with the blanket.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” your voice was shaky and coarse, riddled with humiliation as you tried to hide under the thick fabric. Bucky was equally as embarrassed, maybe more. The last time he remembered screaming like that was when he fell off the train.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to scream at you like that, oh god…” he covered his face with his hands, trying desperately to stop the painful blush that turned him into a tomato, “what are you doing in here?” he asked through his hand, not wanting to make eye contact with you.

“Oh–oh yeah, I was just cold…I thought we could be warm together…” your sentences were broken by long sighs. You peeked over your blanket to look at Bucky. He had separated his fingers to glance at you but upon meeting your gaze, he shuddered away again.

“I see, well, if you’re not too weirded out, you can stay. I’d actually love the company,” he moved his hand and you could see how red he still was, it was cute. Your own embarrassment subsided as you were overtaken by how sweet and innocent he looked. Bucky only grew more red as you stared at him. He was sure you were making fun of him in your head, probably laughing at how he was blushing, but you were actually awestruck. His dark hair was messy and blue eyes were illuminated by the snowy moonlight that leaked into the room.

“What are you looking at?” he braved the question, worried about the answer.

“You’re gorgeous,” you said immediately, eyes widening as the words fell haphazardly from your lips. Bucky’s eyes twitched wider, the blush getting brighter as it took over his whole face. He was speechless. That was not at all what he was expecting you to say but he couldn’t help but love hearing it.

“Sorry…that was, oh god, sorry. Maybe I’ll just go back to my room,” you rustled around the blankets to get up. You needed to hide, to get away from him, why would you say that?? Now he knows you like him, you idiot. You’re going to have to move, he’s never going to want to talk to you again, oh god, oh g-

“You’re gorgeous too,” the words struck the thoughts right out of your head. You looked at him, your blanket wadded up in your arms like a child holding too many toys. Bucky was sitting up now, his body turned toward you. He was shirtless, in the fucking winter? Seriously, Barnes, and had extended his arm out to you. “Stay, please?” His voice was soft and inviting.

You took his hand, dropping your blanket and climbing in next to him. Bucky helped cover the both of you with each blanket and wrapped his bare arm around your body, pulling you against his skin. You rested your head on his shoulder and laid your hand on his chest before hesitantly pulling it away, unsure if he wanted you to touch his naked body.

“Sorry,” you whispered, settling your hand between your bodies with it tucked under your ribs. Bucky chuckled, reaching his metal hand over and pulling your wrist until your hand was free. He laid it over his heart, his palm against the back of your hand, fingers gripping it tightly.

“After you had to hear me scream like that, I think we’ve crossed over the ‘just friends’ border. Next thing you know, I’ll be taking you on a date,” Bucky laughed, looking down to meet your eyes. He wanted to see if the words scared you off at all, or if you’d be into going out with him. When your eyes lit up, he smiled, the knot in his stomach relaxing.

“Good, because I don’t usually lay naked with people I’m not dating,” you winked.

“Technically we’re not laying naked together seeing as you still have your clothes on, but feel free to change that,” he returned the wink, eyes traveling down your body for a moment.

“Maybe after the date, Barnes,” he scrunched his nose with a big smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nuzzled his neck, glad you decided to come to his room, you were already so much warmer. Bucky broke the peaceful silence, the earlier event still on his mind.

“Did you even knock? I could have been masturbating,” he questioned, eyes still closed. You laughed, looking up at his face. The movement caused him to look down at you.

“Ah, so you do masturbate. Do you use the metal arm?” he pulled his eyebrows together for a moment, a million questions running through his mind. He didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes with a smile and shook his head in disbelief. You shrugged and rested your head back on his shoulder. After a few long moments, Bucky kissed the top of your head, whispering low.

Probably in a light brown sweater and dark brown slacks, his hair neatly combed back and his beard trimmed and combed, smelling like the coconut conditioner you got him

Steve would dress as nice as possible without seeming like he was trying too hard

He wanted to cut the beard off and have a neat, bare face to meet your family, but you almost strangled him with the cord of the clippers because you love his beard too much and they'd only see him for a couple days while you had to see a naked face every day? no thanks

You also wanted to look nice for his mom and sister, so you put on a green dress, nothing too fancy, it was something that you could've gone shopping in the city in or worn to a nice dinner

However, your siblings immediately started cracking jokes about how you never wear dresses and "what the fuck are you wearing"

Your sister, having spent too much time in Wakanda with her friends, saying "WHAT ARE THOSE?!" at the sight of your heeled boots

You could've tossed them from the balcony, you didn't want his family to think you never dressed up

Steve stood in the living room laughing at you, knowing full well that his family didn't care if you wore booty shorts and a stained T-shirt but it was hilarious to watch you struggle to keep up appearances

Your mom took a special liking to Steve, he was a gentleman and took her coat from her, holding a conversation that she actually seemed interested in

Not to mention he was hot as fuck

She was a hard person to please, she didn't like people, and would prefer to live in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for 20 miles but she liked Steve

You were scared that she wouldn't like his family though, and he was worried his family would be too overbearingly nice, the complete opposite of your dark humor family

You watched them from the kitchen, Steve at your side preparing a tray of drinks while you mixed the spaghetti sauce

It was customary for your family to have an Italian feast for Christmas, Steve's family typically had ham with plenty of sides, but agreed to try your authentic recipes that had been passed down the generations

Your heart was beating out of your chest, anxious that your family would say something dumb or rude and his family would be put off or that he'd hate your family

Distracted, you spilled some of the sauce over the rim of the pan and breathed out a "fuck"

Steve furrowed his brows with concern, wrapping one large arm around your shoulders and bringing your forehead to his lips

"Relax baby, they look like they're getting along"

Your mom was smiling, a genuine smile, not her fake customer service smile, and his mom seemed to be enjoying the conversation

Your siblings were actually talking to his, a rare sight as your brothers and sister tended to hide in a corner and play their handheld video games

You hugged Steve, planting a kiss to his clothed chest then bringing his face to yours and laying a kiss on his soft lips

Naturally, your siblings started gagging, peeling their eyes away from the conversation for the one moment you show some PDA with your boyfriend

You rolled your eyes at them, all of them were adults but your sister, who was practically one now anyway

Steve would just laugh and bring you into another kiss just to be a tease, which caused more gagging and laughing

Any time you had a moment with Steve, you'd ask him "do you think they're getting along?" as if you couldn't see the blossoming friendship before your eyes

Steve always reassured you, getting notes from his sister that his mom really liked your mom

Your siblings were no help, they just shrugged and said "I don't know"

While Steve acted confident, he kept asking you if your mom liked him too, making sure to be very helpful

He always was, but he didn't want to slip up and make it look like he made you do things for him, he was trying to balance looking natural with the things he actually did normally

After dinner, which his family kept going on about how delicious it was, your mom would pull you aside and tell you that she approved of your boyfriend and would start planning the wedding

You blushed hard because Steve would, of course, overhear her

He would wink at you, a sly smile threatening the corners of his lips

As the night would go on, you'd get into deep conversation about each other as children

the embarrassing story of you putting a pad on the outside of your pants when you were 5 to copy your mom

Or the time he ran straight into a stop sign and fell on his ass

he was more embarrassed by that one because it happened as an adult

Steve would watch you lovingly as you spoke

All the love in the world couldn't compare to his gaze

It could be felt by everyone, thick enough to cut with a knife

Both of your moms would share looks at each other, knowing this was probably going to last forever, and definitely in a ring probably very soon

The night would go smoothly, well, smooth in your family's terms

There'd always be a mishap with missing ingredients, someone would forget a gift, or someone would drink a little too much

But as long as no one needed an ambulance, everything went well

When it was just you and Steve, he'd pull you close and give you a hug of relief

Melting into you as the exhaustion of the day set in

He would kiss you all over your face, a soft "I told you so" would leave his lips in between kisses

Steve would offer to clean up, demanding that you rest after taking charge of the meal prep

After he was done, he'd cuddle up next to you on the couch and kiss you again and again

Not forgetting what your mom said earlier, he'd tell you "goodnight Mrs. Rogers" with a smirk

You hid your face in his chest, secretly loving the title