Singing the song that's inside us all.

Nothing major. Just a small gathering with a few familiar faces, some friends and agents, and good food. Maybe a few games, some music and conversations. Bucky only agreed because you batted your eyes and promised that you wouldn’t overdo it. 

As if he could ever say “no” to you. 

“You could smile a bit more, you know,” Steve teased, handing him a beer. 

He scoffed, the bottle cool against his warm hand. “I am smiling,” he argued.

His general demeanor had improved since you came into his life. He liked to think he smiled more than he scowled most days. Well, at least he smiled more when you were around. Or when he thought of you, which was all the time.

So, yeah, his demeanor was much better. 

“You only smile like that when you look at or think about your wife,” Steve pointed out, like he knew exactly what he was on his mind.

Bucky’s gaze softened immediately when he heard you laughing, watching you from where you stood a few feet away. 

You were glowing.

A pregnancy glow, yes, combined with something warmer. The dress you picked somehow flowed while showing off the shape of your body perfectly. Your smile lit up your face and you had a hand on your belly like you’d done for weeks now without thinking. It was beautiful. 

You were beautiful. 

“Can you blame me for having a smile just for her?” Bucky asked.

“Not at all,” his best friend replied. 

You shifted your weight before you took a seat, your smile brighter when you spotted Bucky watching you. He never strayed far from you. Didn’t even sip the drink in his hand. He had his eyes on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. 

You and Sprout. 

Pride flickered through his chest when his gaze dropped to your belly. His wife and his baby. His family. 

Everyone was waiting on you hand and foot. At least, they tried to. The moment someone tried to bring you a drink or food, he stepped in. He couldn’t help himself. Once you were taken care of, he went back to his spot. The perfect place to keep an eye on his surroundings since some old habits died hard.

And you just smiled, soft and bright. 

Steve nudged him with his shoulder. “You deserve this, you know.”

Bucky swallowed hard. It didn’t always feel like he did. The past liked to seep into his mind at unexpected moments and make the world look a little darker. Depending on the day, he’d either hug you close or take you to bed to drown out the noise. Sometimes both.

And no matter what, you made the world look brighter again.

“So, you’re saying I deserved to knock up my wife?” he joked to deflect. 

The blonde snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” he said, giving him a small smile. “Also saying you deserve this life.”

His chest tightened when you laughed at a joke Sam made, your head tipping back slightly and your hand going back to your belly. There was no fight to worry about. No past to haunt him. Just small precious moments like this. 

His lips twitched upward when you found his gaze again, your love for him burning bright in your eyes.

He did deserve this kind of life.

“Thanks, punk,” he mumbled, clinking their bottles together.

“Jerk.”

You turned your attention back to Sam and Bucky pushed off the wall to move closer before a voice stopped him.

Something low and careless.

“Is that chair gonna break? Jesus Christ, she’s fucking huge. How many are in there?”

The thought of domesticity and peace left Bucky’s mind, replaced by something cold and dangerous. 

You were blissfully unaware that some prick had just insulted your beautiful body, still smiling and enjoying yourself. As you should be. You only deserved good things. No one else around you seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere either.

But Steve stiffened out of the corner of his eye. He heard it. They both heard it. 

Super soldier senses really were handy at times.

Ice took over the blue of his eyes, his head slowly turning to look at the fucker stupid enough to open his mouth and even breath the same oxygen as you. A new agent with a very punchable face who wore too much cologne. There was a good chance that you kept your distance for that very reason since some smells still overwhelmed you. The snickering prick certainly wasn’t a friend of his or yours. He was only “invited” because someone else thought it would be good for him to hang out outside of work. 

That wouldn’t happen again. 

“Better snag a brownie before she stuffs her face with the whole tray.”

My wife can have all the fucking brownies she wants, you fucking piece of shit.

The bottle in his hand began to crack. It would shatter if he kept squeezing. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

Not yet.

“You know that’s Barnes’s wife, right?” The asshole’s friend shifted uncomfortably. “She’s really nice, and he’s… well, he’s pretty protective of her.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked back to you, much softer, before looking at the soon-to-be-dead fucker again.

No. Can’t kill the guy. I have a wife and kid to think about.

The prick had the nerve to laugh. “So? Does that give her a pass to look like a whale?”

…He’s fucking dead.

Steve took the cracked bottle from his hand. “Want me to handle him?” he asked, his voice low. 

He exhaled through his nose. Steve didn’t like bullies. Never had. But he knew why he was asking instead of just stepping in and taking care of it.

Because you were his wife. His to defend. His to love and care for. 

This was his fight.

“I got this,” he replied, subtly nodding to where you were sitting. “Just keep an eye out for a minute?”

Steve nodded in understanding, positioning himself to block your line of sight without looking too obvious. 

Bucky took deliberate steps toward the table, his movements controlled and measured. His jaw tightened the closer he got, his fingers itching to toss the guy out with his bare hands. He wouldn’t cause a scene out of respect for you. 

But he wasn’t going to stay silent. 

The atmosphere shifted the second he got to the table, the chatter ceasing immediately. 

The prick, of course, had the nerve to smile. 

“Hey, man! You-”

“You got something to say about my wife?” he asked, his voice as cold as his stare. 

The man’s eyes widened, maybe from shock that he was overheard or that he was being confronted. “I… What?”

Had no problem using your words seconds ago, asshole. 

“You were talking about her.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his eyes flat and unreadable. “My wife.”

The air shifted more, something cold settling over the surroundings as the guy sputtered to come up with an excuse. 

“Say it again,” he ordered, placing his hands on the table and leaning down to his eye level. He made sure there was no warmth in his expression. “Where I can really hear you.”

The idiot swallowed and looked to his friend for help and found none; his friend was suddenly very interested in the beer in his hand. “Um… Barnes, I-”

“My wife, the love of my life, is carrying my child. Our child.” His lip raised in a small snarl and he leaned in enough that Agent Asshole had to back up. “And you think you can sit here and make fun of her? You think I won’t do something about it?”

“I-It was a bad joke,” he tried to reason.

Reasoning only worked with people when they were in a forgiving mood. 

He wasn’t. 

“Oh, now it’s a joke? You think you’re funny?” He smiled with no trace of friendliness behind it. It was likely how a wolf looked baring their teeth before sinking them into their prey. “You think I’ll laugh while you crack ‘jokes’ about my wife?”

The prick looked like he was a heartbeat away from pissing himself, which made Bucky question the hiring process for agents. This sort of “interrogation” was nothing. Child’s play. 

Then again, how many agents could say they had the former Winter Soldier in their space?

“I-I really didn’t mean-”

“Don’t.” His voice dropped even lower. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He glanced back and saw Sam looking his way, his eyes narrowing when he sensed the tension. Steve subtly shook his head. There was no reason to intervene. He was still in control.

Barely.

But you were still smiling, which was the important thing.

“You know what I see when I look at her?” he asked rhetorically, his chest tight. “I see the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

He smacked his hand on the table hard enough to make the bottles rattle and the guys flinch. 

Sam, thankfully, chose to tell another joke at the same time and Steve cackled so the noise at the table wouldn’t draw your attention.

I really do have good friends. 

“I’ll say it again. She’s carrying our baby. She’s uncomfortable and exhausted and guess what? She still walks into a room smiling and thinks of others first. And you sit here and act like she’s something to mock when she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His jaw clenched even as his heart swelled with pride. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The guy shrank lower as every word washed over him.

Good.

Bucky stared at him for another long moment before something colder settled into place behind his eyes.

“Get up, Chet,” he ordered.

“Chet’s” mouth fell open. “That’s not my-”

“I know what your name is, and I don’t care,” he cut him off, straightening up. “Because you don’t respect my wife, so I refuse to respect you.”

A bright shade of red passed through his cheeks before he paled. 

As someone who was stripped of his own agency for years, identity mattered to Bucky. Basic decency mattered. So, maybe it was a little petty to call him by the wrong name, but it was also a good way to put him in his place by letting him know he didn’t matter.

Chet, as his name was Chet to him now, got to his feet on shaky legs. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you are sorry now, but it’s a little too late for that.” 

Bucky clamped a hand on the back of his neck. To just about anyone looking over, it would’ve looked casual. Almost friendly. But they would’ve missed the firm squeeze. 

“Move.”

The prick didn’t need to be told twice.

He guided him away from the table and made sure to smile as he did so. He shot his friend a quick glare for good measure, but at least he stuck up for you. That was the only reason he didn’t make him leave, too. 

The chatter continued behind him, but he barely noticed it over the sound of Chet’s pounding heart and his own blood roaring loudly in his ears. But then he heard your laughter and he took a deep breath, picturing your loving smile and hand on your belly. 

It kept him from snapping completely.

Once they were in the driveway, Bucky shoved him forward. Hard. He stumbled, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. He wished he could punch him for good measure, but he seemed like the type of coward who would cry and call the cops. 

Even if they let him off with a warning, he didn’t want to add any stress to your plate.

“Christ, man,” Chet muttered.

“You stay the fuck out of my house and never come back,” Bucky said, his voice low and lethal as he stepped forward. “And don’t you ever disrespect my wife again.”

Chet nodded quickly. Too quickly. “I won’t.”

Bucky looked every bit like the Winter Soldier wrapped in civilian clothing when he added, “You’ll never speak about her like that again. You’ll never look at her like that again. And you sure as hell will never come near my family again.”

“I understand,” he swore, his voice cracking.

“Good.” Bucky’s nostrils flared as he looked him over one last time, disgust curling in his stomach. “And the next time you come across someone pregnant, maybe try showing them some goddamn respect.”

He looked down at his feet, avoiding his gaze and swallowing any excuse he had left to give.

Fucking coward. 

Bucky pointed toward the street. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

The idiot practically ran to his car. 

Bucky glared as he drove down the street, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck once he disappeared. He exhaled the remainder of his anger through his mouth, his hand moving through his hair. There was nothing to be upset about anymore. Agent Asshole was gone and now he could get back to you.

Where he belonged. 

The second he walked back to the yard, his eyes found you automatically. 

Still smiling, safe, and his.

He grabbed a couple of brownies from the tray before he walked over, giving Steve and Sam two nods. One to let them know everything was fine. The other to thank them for shielding you from that display.

They nodded in return. 

You were his wife and family, but you were their family, too. 

“There’s my handsome husband. I wondered where you went off to for a minute.” You smiled up at him when he approached, his heart skipping a beat. “You okay?”

Bucky stared at you in awe. 

God, she’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.

Up close, your glow was even brighter. You looked at him like he put the sun in the sky just for you. He would if he could. And your belly moved slightly under your hands, and he wanted to feel Sprout move, too. 

“I should be asking you that,” he replied, his brows furrowing. “Are you okay? Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

He observed you carefully, looking for signs of discomfort or fatigue. The conversation with Chet and kicking him out didn’t take very long, but it felt like hours now being apart from you. Steve and Sam had been watching over you, but it wasn’t the same. 

“I’m just fine,” you assured him, and he knew you weren’t just saying that for his benefit. “But you didn’t answer my question,” you added teasingly. 

Always thinking of me. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, gentler than he had spoken all day. “Everything’s fine now.”

You studied him for a moment, sensing something underneath the surface. He didn’t falter under your gaze. There was no need to. 

“Everything’s fine now, which means it wasn’t fine before,” you guessed. 

Bucky sighed. He should’ve known you’d feel that something was off. You were too intuitive for your own good. That was one of the things he loved about you. And part of him loving you was trying to protect you from harm, physically, mentally, or verbally. 

But there was also no hiding from you, even when he did his best to shield you. 

“Just… needed to throw some trash out,” he said carefully. 

It was true. 

Chet was trash. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Steve muttered into his drink, making Sam snort. 

Before you could question him further, he set the brownies down and crouched slightly in front of your chair so he could rest a hand gently over your belly. He didn’t chastise Sam for snapping a photo, and he didn’t care who saw him like this. The two of you were his world and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. 

“Hey, Sprout,” he murmured, his entire expression softening. “You behaving for your mama?”

The baby kicked almost immediately beneath his palm.

He smiled wide, making him temporarily forget about the dickhead he just  threw out. 

“Sprout’s just fine, too,” you promised, placing your hand on his, your gaze thoughtful. “You sure you’re okay?”

He leaned up slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He remembered sitting on the couch and comforting you after the mean voice in your head made you doubt that you’d be a good mom. And how you didn’t think your stretch marks were pretty but he thought they were so beautiful. You were so strong and inspiring. His wife. The mother of his child. 

He wasn’t about to ruin your fun and relaxing afternoon by telling you what happened. 

But as much as he wanted to protect you, he would tell you later once everyone left because he refused to keep secrets from you. There was a good chance you’d cry. Not because of the cruel words spoken or hormones, but because he stuck up for you so fiercely. He would always stick up for his family. 

And if you wanted him to punish Chet even more, he’d do it without question.

That was how much he loved you. 

And he’d take you to bed later, kissing and touching every inch of you he could. He’d make you feel beautiful and cherished if any of your insecurities began to surface. He’d silence any mean voice in your head, hopefully for good, the same way you drowned out the horrors he experienced and made him feel loved. 

I love you both so much. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered, glancing down at your stomach with so much love. “I’m better than okay.”

We all deserve to have someone in our corner. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Lord knows he wore you out earlier.

He stripped his jacket off, followed by his shoes to pad quietly across the floor. He rolled his shoulders to ease the ache. Tried to ignore the pounding in his head and block out how loud everything was in his mind. It wasn’t easy to shake some days. 

Corruption and pressure threatened to make his walls crumble. His strict moral code and stabilizers were stripped away to almost nothing. Fisk exploited him. 

But the moment he saw you in his bed, he exhaled some of the tension and smiled.

His North Star.

It was hard to believe some days that he had someone like you. He considered himself lucky to have someone so good. So perfect. 

Light spilled into the room as he opened the door completely. He didn’t approach right away, content just to hear your soft and steady breathing. You were curled up slightly, tucked under the comforter right where he left you. Where you belonged. 

He let out a breath, his fingers flexing. You were there. You were real.

The mattress dipped under his weight after he lifted the comforter, still careful so he didn’t disturb you yet. He should’ve showered and changed, but he had to hold you. Listening and watching you could only satisfy him so much.

He slid in easily beside you, something loosening in his chest when he wrapped an arm around your waist. His nose brushed your neck, his lips following. You were so soft. So warm.

Everything that he dealt with outside of his place, the visions of blood and a dark abyss, it all faded away thanks to you.

He nearly groaned when you sighed, his eyes briefly shutting. It was the same sound you let out every time he slowly entered you. Every sound you made was music to his ears, but that one in particular got beneath his skin and swam in his veins. 

Maybe it was because it was gentle and he didn’t have many gentle things in his life. 

“Missed you, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Thought of you all night. It kept me going.”

He suddenly pictured the first time you smiled at him. It was on a rainy day, and your smile made the day brighter. It was one of the most genuine things he had ever seen. In a city full of liars, you were something that remained true. 

It was something he had to keep for himself. 

Your breathing changed when his mouth moved back to your neck and his fingers dug into your waist, making him smile gently. You weren’t quite awake yet. But you were getting there. 

“You’re so good, you know that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So good to stay right here. Waiting for me.”

Coming home to you made him feel normal because it was something that normal people craved. Stability. Love. He deserved that. He deserved good things. 

He deserved you. 

He lifted his head in time to see your eyes flutter open. The innocence in your gaze was a stark contrast to the predatory gleam in his. Even as he smiled, he looked like a wolf about to sink his teeth in.

And you were such a delicious meal. 

“...Dex?” you asked groggily.

He craved the way you said his name. 

“Yeah,” he said, his fingers brushing your cheek as you blinked the sleepiness away. “I’m home.”

He saw the confusion flicker across your face when you shifted your body. Well, you tried to at least. The bindings wrapped securely around your wrists and headboard didn’t exactly give you much room to move around. That was the whole point.  

“Dex… What…” 

He frowned when the confusion bled into panic, his hand pressing firmly but not harshly on your chest to keep you as still as possible. Your heart raced faster beneath his palm and your eyes widened, your fear evident as he tilted his head. He understood why you were scared and yet he didn’t get it at all. He wasn’t going to hurt you. 

He’d never hurt you. 

But he should’ve anticipated this. 

“Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said with practiced ease, kissing your forehead and letting his mouth rest there to ease your frightened expression. “I’ve got you.”

“You… Did you…” Your breath hitched. “You tied me up?!”

He did after he ruined you, cleaned you up, and made sure you were fast asleep. His hand had drifted to your hip, your body pliant and willing, before he stopped himself. He’d save that for another night. The two of you had a lifetime to make every fantasy come true. 

Every dream, too. 

“Yeah I did, but you’re safe,” he assured you. 

A frightened sound escaped you, your body trembling lightly. 

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t one of your sweet or happy sounds, and it worked its way into his bones before he could stop it. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him. He couldn’t have you afraid of him. At the end of the day, he was a good guy. 

You needed to trust him to take care of you. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said quietly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I should’ve done it while you were still awake so I could explain.”

“E-Explain?” you repeated, your voice small. 

You hadn’t screamed once since you woke up, so that had to be a good sign. 

“I just needed to know you’d be here when I got back. That’s all. Needed to know you weren’t going to…” He trailed off and took a breath. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here. You’re here. That’s what matters, so you don’t need to be scared, okay? Not of me.”

You didn’t know about the cameras he set up, but he checked them throughout the night to make sure you were safe. Seeing you vulnerable, it was a reminder that he had to come home to you. And it was a reminder that you couldn’t leave. 

Not that you would leave him. His North Star wouldn’t abandon him. Binding you was just an extra precaution. 

Plus, you looked good bound to his bed. 

He could even watch the footage of the two of you from earlier. 

“I’m not-”

“Leaving,” he finished for you. “I know.”

You weren’t going to leave him. 

“Think of this like a kink,” he said, a subtle smirk forming. 

Kinks were normal. 

This was normal.

“Your wrists don’t hurt, do they?” he asked, concern laced in his tone, moving a hand to take yours and lace your fingers together. 

You shook your head slowly. Of course, they didn’t hurt. He was careful. 

He took care of you. 

“Good,” he said, his breath ghosting your lips. “Then I’ll keep you tied up just a little bit longer, okay?”

He swallowed down whatever you had to say when lips covered yours, his hand sliding to your neck and resting there while his tongue explored your mouth. You tasted so sweet. He wanted you. Wanted to be inside you. 

His hips shifted against yours before he caught himself and broke the kiss. He pressed his forehead to yours and exhaled slowly, his grip loosening. You needed just a little more rest before he wore you out again. 

“Shh. Go back to sleep,” he urged, smiling softly before he settled over you like a blanket, his lips caressing your skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up, and we can talk more about it.”

Your pulse still pounded under his touch and his own heartbeat picked up. But he kept his breathing steady, silently urging you to match his. He relaxed, too, like he was someone warm and comforting and not someone smothering you. 

It took a minute, but your eyes shut. Maybe you thought it was a dream. He’d remind you that it was very real, and that he wasn’t going anywhere when you woke up again. 

He would always be there. 

Just like you would always be there. 

Even if he had to tie you to his bed every single night to keep you. 

Things could be worst, right? He's trying so hard to be normal. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️