Fly Into A Fantasy

///

The light was still pale, the sun just beginning to rise, when Sam dragged the three of you to a nearby diner. The previous night had been chaotic, the fight hard, and the sleep afterwards elusive. You had just about managed to sleep two hours before Sam put his foot down and demanded real food. For all of you. Even Dean hadn't grumbled when his brother took over the order and didn't get him pie.

You leaned heavily against the seat of the booth, eyes drooping, plate of pancakes and bacon polished clean in front of you. Dean's hand rested on your knee, solid and comforting. The hunt had shaken all three of you.

"I still don't understand how it got there." Sam was saying, head bent over his notebook.

"Dude," Dean countered, "we got the demon. Stop your fussing."

Sam levelled him with a look. "If we don't know how it got there, we don't know if there will be more." His voice was the controlled sort of patience that came only from years of being the younger sibling.

They continued their bickering, but you tuned it out. In your state, you couldn't even recall what the demon had been called. Asad? Or Asag? You couldn't bring yourself to care to remember in that moment and your eyes drifted to look out the window.

A car had pulled up to the diner, parking a few spots away from the Impala. Curious, you tried to watch as a man and a young girl - maybe his daughter? - got out of the car. Something panged in your chest, yearning for the normalcy, but your eyes grew too heavy and slipped closed.

For a blissful moment, you floated in nothingness. The noise of the diner grew silent, the brothers' voices drifting away. Your eyelids flickered against the growing light, and your last thought was a longing for the motel bed.

A sudden jolt of electricity startled you awake, your knee jerking and kicking Sam's leg opposite you.

"Ow, what the hell?" Sam yelped, rubbing at his shin.

"Sorry," you said thinking quickly for an excuse, "nightmare."

"You good?" Dean asked from his seat next to you, hand still steady on your knee. He feigned his worry well, but you knew him too well not to see the glint in his eyes.

He had squeezed your knee on purpose.

You stared at him, heart still hammering from being startled. He just raised his eyebrows at you.

"Yeah. Fine." You looked away first, busying yourself with the coffee pot. Mug filled with lukewarm coffee, you leaned back again, trying to look relaxed. Casual.

Just as you brought the mug up to your lips, Dean's fingers squeezed again, thumb and forefinger digging into the soft flesh on either side of your kneecap. You choked on your coffee, coughing violently. Setting the mug down with a clatter, you dared a quick glare at Dean. He was grinning around his own mug.

"Okay, well, you two are clearly useless." Sam declared, gathering up his notebook and papers. "I'm going to the library to look into this."

You waited until he was well out of earshot before you turned on Dean.

"What the hell is your problem?" You hissed, ignoring how his face brightened at your annoyance.

"My problem?" He said, gleeful. "I don't have a problem."

"You're seriously gonna do this in front of Sam?"

"Come on," Dean drawled, "Sam is clueless. He didn't notice a thing!"

"He didn't notice a thing this time." You corrected. Dean smirked and leaned closer.

"Why? You gettin' shy on me?"

Warmth fluttered through your body. But your rage was stronger.

"You're going to wish that demon killed you." You glowered, eyes hardening as his lips stretched into a grin at your words.

"Aw, you don't mean that." He said, sliding closer to you on the booth seat. "Tell me you don't want this."

You faltered.

You were exhausted, and aching all over, and tense with the remains of the hunt. Having some fun with Dean, on a rare moment when Sam wasn't there, actually sounded…not that bad. Maybe even nice.

Dean saw the moment he got you.

"Come on," he dropped his voice to a whisper, trailing his fingers in light circles over your kneecap, "let's get out of here."

The drive back was silent, and charged with energy. Okay, maybe it was just you. Dean had seemed carefree, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to the music. Thank god the drive was short. Now you stood in the motel room, watching warily as Dean shed his leather jacket.

"No need to be so skittish." He said, throwing the jacket over the back of a chair.

You scoffed. "I'm not skittish." You sat down on the edge of the bed to take off your shoes.

"Uh-huh." Dean clearly didn't believe you. Your focus remained resolutely on untying your laces. You heard his footsteps approaching, and if you rushed to get your shoes off, you would never admit it. You jumped up from the bed and walked past Dean just as he neared where you had been sitting. You took extra time in placing your shoes neatly by the door. Which you normally never did.

Okay so maybe you were skittish. It's not that you were dreading what was going to happen. No, if you were going to put a name to the feeling, you'd say it was anticipation, but in a good way. Excitement, even. So why where you avoiding the inevitable?

Dean was snickering behind you. You glared at him over your shoulder.

"You know, it's hard to believe you just hunted a fire demon a few hours ago." Dean said, crossing his arms.

"Saved your sorry ass, you mean." You called back, turning to face him. Dean didn't take the bait. He waved you over with one arm, grin stretching. You hesitated.

"Don't tell me you're scared of a little tickling."

"Of course not."

"Oh yeah? Come here and prove it."

He got you again. But you would sooner die than admit defeat. Dean knew this. You knew that he knew. So you crossed the room to stand in front of him, glaring at him expectantly. He considered you for a moment, eyes scanning your tense posture, then, slowly, he lifted one hand. Instead of attacking like you were expecting, his fingers lightly caught the hem of your tshirt. Your heart hammered in your chest.

"You look like I'm about to eat you." Dean said, holding back a grin.

"Knowing you, you might." Was it just you, or did your voice sound slightly breathless?

Dean titled his head as if to say 'you're not wrong'. Fingers slipped under your tshirt. He stepped into your space, crowding you against the edge of the bed, but not pushing you down. Fingertips skittered over your bare side, just enough that the skin beneath them twitched.

"Quit stalling." You forced yourself to say. "Get it over with."

"'Get it over with'?" Dean snickered. "Someone might think you're on death row."

You swallowed thickly as Dean's other hand came to rest gently against your ribs. "Sam might be back-"

"Sam won't be back for hours." Dean's voice lowered to a murmur. His fingers curled and you flinched, hard, a strangled noise escaping you. Dean lowered his head closer to your ear. "We've got all the time in the world."

It sounded more like a threat than reassurance.

"Motherfu-" You locked your hands onto Dean's wrists, but he did not stop. "I'm going to kill you."

"You know," Dean said conversationally, "one of these days I'm gonna make you admit it."

"Admit what?" You gasped out, eyes squeezing shut. It must have been because you were so exhausted - you never felt this sensitive before.

"That you like being tickled."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, giggles." Dean cut you off and lowered his hands to your hips. You doubled over, forehead resting against his shoulder, laughter bubbling out of your chest. "There we go - going down!"

Dean nudged you backwards, letting you fall onto the bed behind you, swiftly following and situating himself over you.

"Get off me you brute!" You pushed at his approaching hands. Dean laughed, nudging your hands away and the two of you got into a hand slap fight.

"Still fighting?" He grinned, catching your hands maneouvering both of your wrists into one hand. You tugged defiantly but his grip was firm. Warmth spread through your body at the realisation that you were caught. Normally you'd break out of his hold with minimal problems - you were also a hunter after all - but your body betrayed you. Left feeling weak and sluggish, Dean had the upper hand.

"Did you just realise the predicament you're in?" Dean taunted, leaning in close to your face. "You've gone all quiet. All bark and no bite huh?"

You were going to kill him.

But first you had to get out of this.

Dean used his free hand to squeeze up and down your ribs, making you twist and arch your back trying to get away. With one last moment of clarity, you braced your feet on the edge of the bed and tried to buck him off. He just hooked his fingers at the back of your ribs in retaliation, and you were a goner.

"Oh yeah," Dean was saying over your laughter, sounding way too smug, "that's the spot."

"You're dehehead, Winchester!" Laughter bubbled out of you like a broken dam.

"Try saying that again when you're not giggling."

This wasn't new to either of you. You'd both played this game before, the back and forth fuelling each others' energies. As Dean's hands wandered from spot to spot, you found yourself pulling down your walls.

"You're starting to look relaxed." Dean said from above you, slowing his hands to gentle tracing just above your hip bones. You cracked open an eye to get a look at him. The hard lines of his face had faded, and he looked…peaceful.

"Could say the same about you."

"What can I say," he replied, shifting off of you to lay heavily next to you, "you bring out my soft side." He paused. "Even if you're stubborn as a mule."

You whacked him in the chest, but there was no fight in it. Feeling boneless and melty, you let yourself shed the tension of last night's hunt. Dean's arm wrapped heavily around you. Eyes closed, you stretched your arm out and over Dean's side. He shifted to accommodate you, leaning his cheek against your head. With one last surge of energy you pinched Dean's side where your hand was resting. Your lips twitched at his strangled yelp.

"I'll remember that." His threat sounded weak with the tiredness overtaking him.

Ი𐑼 yeah so it’s short , just a little thought and concept but I will definitely write a longer fic about this <3 I’m not prepared for the person I’m going to become when the movie is out … I’m already freaking out from the trailer 🤓

“Hi, Bucky.” 

Instantly, he sputtered over his mouthful of cereal, eyes watering from his food going down the wrong way. 

Bucky knew that melodic voice before his gaze even reached its owner. You entered the kitchen, wiggling your fingers at him in greeting. 

Clearing his throat, he swiped his bowl to the side, his breakfast now forgotten about, and directed his attention solely onto you. “Hi—um h—hello, doll.” 

The muscles of your cheeks lifted up to your eyes in a smile that made Bucky swoon. Hard.

Your eyes fell to Sam then, who stood in the corner, fresh from a workout with a shit eating on his face. “Good morning, Samuel.” 

“Mornin’, beautiful. How did you sleep?” 

Bucky fought the growl rising in his throat, the unprecedented possessiveness caving its way through its internal barriers in your presence. 

You grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and closed the door, leaning your back against it to take a big gulp. 

“Not bad at all.” You licked your lips, ridding the dryness that came from a long slumber before your eyes lit up. “Oh, by the way! I drank some of that tea you recommended. It’s helped a bunch—”

Bucky zoned out while you continued to express your gratitude to Sam. He couldn’t help the way his eyes dilated as he rested his head in the palm of his vibranium hand, a lovesick sigh escaping his lips. You were just so gorgeous – a deity in human form right in front of his own very eyes. Bucky had never considered himself so lucky in all his time on earth to be within your vicinity. 

In his own world of oggling, Bucky didn’t notice how the conversation fell short between you and Sam. Neither did he realise how the two of you were staring at him; you with concern and Wilson smothering his laughter with his hand. 

“Bucky? Sweetheart?” He finally registered that you were speaking to him and almost choked, again, on his own spit.

“Mhm?” Bucky murmured, drunk off your attention. 

You smiled once again, so devastatingly beautiful that his left arm whirred in stupor. “Are you okay? You feeling alright?” Not waiting for a response, you walked over to him and Bucky almost let his eyes roll to the back of his head when you lifted your wrist to his forehead. “Jeez, you’re a little hot, Buck.” 

Sam keeled over in hysterics, unable to keep his composure any longer. Meanwhile, a bright red blossom of colour rose up from the skin of Bucky’s neck all the way up to his cheeks. 

Had Bucky not been embarrassingly infatuated by you, the throwaway comment wouldn’t have had any effect on him. But this was you. The woman who had the ability to make him melt on the spot. 

While logic and a basic level of common sense screamed at him that you were talking about his temperature, his mind could only conjure up the fact you had called him hot. 

Bucky saw your mouth moving, however he couldn’t concentrate on the sound of the words coming out of it. You were still touching him, patting his cheeks and sweeping the tendrils of hair that had fell out from behind his ears out of his face. The close proximity of your bodies threw him through a loop and without even realising, his thighs spread further, subconsciously begging you to forego all boundaries and smother yourself against him. 

Gently tapping his nose three times, you managed to gain his full attention again. “You seem out of it, sweetie. Maybe you should go down to the medbay. See if you’re coming down with a fever or something.” 

Sam blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, because that’s what’s wrong with him.” 

You threw a lighthearted glare his way before bringing your eyes back to Bucky. “Promise me you’ll get seen to?” 

How could he refuse when you asked so sweetly? “Anything you want.” He vowed sincerely. 

Scrunching your nose, you chucked his chin and whispered under your breath, “Good boy.”

Bucky almost whimpered when you withdrew your hands and stepped back. He so desperately wanted to follow you and nudge your arm until you paid attention to him once more. Your touch was fire and a cool breeze all at once. Electricity that created static across his stubbled cheek, yet also stoked a warmth through his entire body.  

Peace. He’d never felt anything like it. Never before felt drunk from just the delicate essence of a perfume or experienced the loosening of his limbs, relaxing until his legs felt like jelly whenever you so much as cast him a glance. 

You grabbed a piece of fruit from the table, ready to go down to the gym and train. “Catch you later, Sam,” you called over your shoulder. Meeting Bucky’s eyes a final time, you winked while you headed for the elevator. “Bye, sweetheart.”  

Bucky’s gaze was glued to you, following you out hopelessly until you were completely out of sight. 

He was fucked — well and truly out of his depth. 

Sam crossed his arms and smirked. “You are down bad, man.” 

Bucky swiped a hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Fuckin’ tell me about it.” 

“This is serious.” Sam sobered up, his lips softening into an honest smile. 

With an embarrassingly loud thud against the island countertop, Bucky let his head drop. “I have no idea what to do, Sam. I thought this crush would have passed by now but it’s been months.”

“Well,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Have you even tried asking her out?” 

“And why would I do that?” Bucky asked, genuinely confused. 

Sam sputtered over his words. “What do you mean—Because that’s what people do when they like someone, you dumbass!” 

Bucky had lost enough braincells daydreaming about you constantly. He didn’t need to be told what he already knew. But the pressure of asking you out to then have a chance of being rejected? He would never come back from that. “Yeah, no thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on, man. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam asked. 

Bucky lifted his head up and huffed sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she could turn me down and rip my heart out into little pieces, so much that I would hide out in my room for the rest of eternity never to be seen again?” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

Bucky sighed longingly. “Let me wallow in my misery alone, Sam.” 

“Why? So you can spend your days staring at her with your googly eyes and drooling over her.” 

“I have never drooled over her,” Bucky snarled. 

A twinkle shone in Sam’s eye, a mischievous grin donning his face. “Then what’s that on your chin?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened and he quickly brought his hand up to his face to check if he did in fact have any wetness coating his mouth. Finding none, he looked back to Sam with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam shook his head with laughter. “You shouldn’t make it so easy to tease you, loverboy.”  

With a growl, Bucky lifted from his seat and stormed out of the kitchen. 

The irritating voice followed him. “Don’t forget training tomorrow morning, loverboy!” 

The sun was shining over the compound the next morning and so came the bright idea from Steve that all exercise activities should be held outside. While the recruits in training buffed up on their sparring with the Captain, the rest of the avengers worked out as they saw fit. 

As usual, Sam took any opportunity possible to annoy Bucky, which brought them together, running laps around the outdoor track. 

“When are you gonna man up and ask her out then, Cyborg? Pretty girl ain’t gonna be available forever.” 

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t run ahead of Sam. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t. Maybe the pace he kept alongside Wilson allowed him to stare at you so clearly in your tight workout leggings and sports bra as sweat sensually rolled over your skin. Maybe. 

“I’m not asking her out, Sam. Drop it.” 

Sam huffed out an annoyed breath. “Listen, man. It’s not as if you’ve got nothing going for you. As much as you’re a grumpy shit, you’ve got them blue eyes the chicks love. Gets them all gooey when you give them intense eye contact, y’know?” He reluctantly added, “And they dig the brooding, bad boy, leather jacket vibe.”

Bucky let out a rare smile within the presence of Sam. “You tryna hit on me, Wilson?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is you have a chance.” Sam slyly glanced over the field. “And if you don’t quit fuckin’ around, that chance is gonna disappear.”  

The smile instantly dropped from Bucky’s face. “What do you mean by that?” 

Sam’s signature smirk came back with vengeance. “Your girls lookin’ kinda cute today. So I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you ain’t the only one who’s got their eye on her.” 

Naturally, Bucky followed his instinct and let his eyes look over at you. You were a fucking wonder, of course he knew that. But heeding Sam’s ominous warning, Bucky allowed his gaze to venture out, only allowing you to blur into the background for a couple of seconds while he took stock of the other male, and female, recruits. 

Low and behold, plenty of other people wantonly stared at you while you completed your circuit, almost salivating over their barely concealed pining. As much as Bucky hated to admit it, the fucker was right. You were the pinnacle of everyone’s attention. 

With the way you were bending over, squatting and looking like an angel amidst the perspiration the sun brought on, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could actually blame anyone for it. 

That didn’t stop the ugly, green eyed beast within him that wanted to tear everyone’s eyes out for daring to glimpse at you. 

It was silly, he knew he had no right to feel any sort of possessive nature for you. Unfortunately, you didn’t belong to him. Still, he couldn’t control the deep rooted urges that whispered the kinds of fun he’d have gouging out eyeballs that looked where they weren't supposed to. 

Knowing he had stirred the pot enough, Sam figured it was time to try and hit the final nail in the coffin in order to make his friend move his ass. “Y’know what gives you an advantage though, man?” 

Bucky continued to death stare the surrounding agents, while keeping up with his steady jog. “What’s that?”

“Guess who’s making eyes at you right now.” 

At breakneck speed, Bucky snapped his head back around to you, only to indeed find you staring at him with a fire in your eyes and your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. 

A violent shudder ran down his spine and for a moment, the whole world stopped on its axis, allowing Bucky to revel in a daydream brought to life. 

That was until his mind snapped him back into the present. The super soldier was majestic on his feet in a fight, graceful yet utterly dangerous out on the field even with the pressure a mission came with. 

However to his utter bewilderment, you happened to be the most dangerous being he had ever come across, because in all of his years as a trained, professional assassin, Bucky had never, never, tripped over his own feet. 

And so, inevitably, Bucky’s face ungracefully met the asphalt of the outside track with an audible thunk. 

A collective of gasps, oo’s, and ah’s, rang around the large group. Bucky could physically feel the coating of red, hot embarrassment climbing up to his now scratched cheeks.  

Bucky couldn’t see the look of shame and pity on Sam’s face as he dropped his head into his hands. All he was capable of was fantasizing faking his own death and moving far, far away where no one who witnessed his fall could ever find him.  

With a painful, deep groan, Bucky managed to roll himself over. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and allow himself to accept reality yet and so he kept them closed, waiting for the ground to swallow him up or for the beaming sun to slowly incinerate him, melt him into the ground with his shame and dignity. 

But instead of either of those, a shadow casted over him, the harsh brightness behind his eyelids dulling down. Slowly, he peeked an eye open, only for mortification to kick him in the gut when he found you standing over him. 

“You alright there, Soldier?” Your hands were set on your hips, those deliciously curved grooves of your body that he had shamelessly stared at one too many times during gym sessions. 

“Mhm,” he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly. “Just peachy.” 

Even though you’d just seen him eat dirt, in front of hundreds of learning recruits and the rest of the avengers, your smile was kind as you held out your hand. “Need some help?” 

Bucky took your offering, sliding his clammy palm into your dry one and hoisted himself up with your grip. He hadn’t needed your help, he was a super soldier with a metal arm; an agility and strength beyond normal human ability. But he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to feel your soft skin against his. 

He couldn’t look you in the eye as he stood up, aware of your gaze glued to him. “Th-Thanks.” 

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “Although, you’ve got a few nasty looking cuts on your cheeks.” 

Bucky brought his left hand up to his face, hissing when the cool vibranium stung the open wounds. “Ah, it’s nothin’—don't worry about it. Nothing a few hours won’t fix.” 

You shook your head fondly. “Well, how about I walk you to the infirmary and we get some ointment on them? It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.” 

Bucky choked on his own spit and snapped his eyes to yours. “W-We?” 

Your smile was blinding — so beautiful with an ability to stop time. At least for him anyway. “Yeah, why not? It looks like you could use a hand—y’know, since you’re a little clumsy on your feet today.” The cheeky smirk that followed your words almost sent him to an early grave.

His cheeks blazed. Bucky was sure he looked utterly stupid, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But he couldn’t help the effect you had on him. “I um—I— ha, I guess.” 

Your eyes glinted mischievously. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Not trusting his voice to hold steady, Bucky simply nodded. 

“Great,” you approved. “Just one question though, are we going to keep holding hands on the way?”

Looking down to the space between you, Bucky felt his mouth dry when he saw that he hadn’t yet released his hand from yours. “I’m—oh fuck—I’m so sorry.” 

Still, he made no move to slacken his grip. 

You tightened your lips, and he knew you were willing yourself not to laugh for his sake. Sam would have a fucking field day with this. 

Though to his surprise, instead of pulling away like he expected you to, you began pulling him along, hands still interweaved. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, Bucky.”  

His name on your lips was akin to a siren singing her song; dragging helpless seamen to their deaths. A thought crossed his mind then, that he didn’t think he would mind so much if he sank to his reckoning, not if your voice was the last thing he ever heard. 

“Okay.” Bucky followed you blindly, eyes glued to your conjoined hands and disbelieving of his luck. 

You had led the way towards the medbay and found a cozy, private room that the doctors used for small injuries. Bucky sat impatiently on the side of the medical bed, twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting restlessly. Never had he been so close to you, alone. 

Bucky internally prayed with all his faith that you couldn’t hear the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. He was sure if he was hooked up to a monitor, the doctors would be thoroughly concerned about his health. 

Finally having gathered all the supplies you deemed necessary along with a first aid box, you walked back over to the bed and dumped everything next to him. 

“So,” you began, an uneasy conspiratorial tone to your voice that weirdly reminded him of Sam. “Wanna tell me what happened out there?”  

“I—,” Bucky sheepishly scratched the back of his neck while his cheeks bloomed crimson red. “I must’ve just tripped over my own feet.” 

He tried to shrug off his nonchalance, but he knew by your raised eyebrow you didn’t believe him. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing a big, strong super soldier such as yourself has any trouble finding his footing.”

Before Bucky could muster up any other excuse but the truth, you ripped open the packet of a medical wipe and warned him, “I’m sorry. This is gonna sting.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said with bravado. 

Bucky wasn’t prepared for the twinkle in your eye as you mumbled under your breath, “I’m sure it isn’t, Sargeant.” 

The breath got knocked out of his lungs. Oh did that do things to him. 

Suddenly, vivid images of you spread out on his bed wearing nothing but his old army hat while you screamed out his rank ran wild in his mind. 

Luckily, you were too preoccupied with cleaning the dried blood of his wound to notice him discreetly palming the bulge in his athletic shorts, trying to hide the effect you had on him. 

“Are you certain there is absolutely no other reason as to why I’m playing nurse right now, then?” Your feline grin was sexy and scary. “No possible distractions that led you off path?” 

There was no way you could read minds, right? Bucky doubled down on his denial, shaking his head from side to side and letting the length of his hair hide the truth in his eyes. 

“I’ll take your word for it then.” You finished up and reached for the healing gel. “I know the serum enhances your ability to repair the cuts, but I’d still like to use this.” Looking into his eyes, you asked, “Only as long as you’re okay with that, of course.” 

Time stopped and the two of you were caught in the other’s gaze. It was such a small gesture, one you probably didn’t even realise meant the world to him. But you asked him for permission on something that would affect his autonomy and if Bucky didn’t already have a hundred ways he was falling for you, that would have been the cherry on top. 

“Yeah,” he breathed airily. “Yeah, I’m good with it, doll.” 

Unseen to him before, you ducked your head and sweeped your hair behind your ear and if Bucky didn’t know any better, he was sure you were shy. 

He couldn’t help the large grin he sported. He was always so enamored with you, quick to falter in your presence and become unsure of himself. Right now though, a small bout of bravery returned. “Ready when you are,” he cheekily murmured. 

You hastily rushed to compose yourself. Clearing your throat, you squeezed the tube of gel, allowing a small drop of the cool liquid on the tip of your finger and stepped between his legs to gently dab it onto his cuts. 

“Okay, you’re all fixed up now.” With a last swipe of his forehead, you smiled. “Don’t worry, Buck. You still look handsome.” 

He tugged his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “You think I’m handsome?”

You giggled. “I would be blind if I didn’t.” 

Bucky blinked at you slowly, still processing your words and trying to calm the excited bubble rising in his throat. 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t act all coy, Bucky. You must have heard the whispers of the recruits. They stare at you all the time, whispering and giggling to each other.” 

With the most confidence he had ever mustered up, he responded, “Truthfully, I’m too busy staring at someone else to notice, doll.” 

The shock of his sudden boldness was glaringly obvious on your face — it was you this time who held your mouth open, lost for words. 

Bucky’s body screamed at him to tell you that he was in fact head over heels for you. That had he known falling over in front of the full compound would lead him within a hair’s breadth away from you, he’d do it all over again. 

But you seemed to recover after a couple of seconds, clearing your throat and making yourself busy to avoid his eyes. “So, I’ve got another question.” 

“Oh?” Bucky cocked his head. 

“Yeah.” You smiled while placing everything back into the first aid box as you found it. “I’ve been hearing a few rumours around the compound recently.” 

Bucky’s stomach dropped with dread. 

“You wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?” 

“I—” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Oh,” you hummed. “So it’s not true then? You don’t have a crush on me?” 

Fuck.

Panicking, Bucky scoffed, though it came off sounding too pathetic, too breezy. “Me? Have a crush on you? That’s—Ha! Nope. No way. Not at all.” 

He watched as you nodded to yourself. Internally, he was begging for the floor to swallow him while he cringed at his own stupidity. 

“Well,” you shrugged. “That’s a shame, I guess.”  

Bucky’s head shot up, eyes wide and shock written over his features. “E-Excuse me?” 

“Oh, it's nothing really.” There was a sparkle in your eye that screamed trouble. “You said you didn’t have a crush on me, so it doesn’t matter.” 

Within seconds, Bucky jumped off the bed and leapt towards you, not even noticing how he had grabbed your hands. “Doll, please. You can’t leave a guy hanging like that.” 

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dramatically exhaled and decided to put him out of his misery. “Leave you hanging? Damn, Buck. It’s not as if I’ve been waiting patiently for you to ask me out for months or anything like that.” 

The air became humid and stuffy and suddenly the clothes attached to Bucky’s body felt too tight and restricting. “You—What now?” 

You rolled your lips inwards, trying to smother your laughter. “Bucky, honey,” you gently murmured. “I’ve heard what the others have been gossiping about. I’ve definitely heard Sam telling the team about your crush on me.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That fuckin’ punk.” 

You squeezed his hands reassuringly and offered him a warm smile when he looked at you. “I’ve just been waiting to hear it from the horse's mouth himself.” 

Bucky’s eyes darted between yours, trying to find any hint of decievement. “You’re serious.”

“Mhm,” you whispered. “Deadly.” 

It took him a couple of seconds to let the new information sink in. Clearing his throat, Bucky untightened his fierce grip on your hands and hesitantly slid them down to latch onto your waist. “So,” he mumbled. “Say if I asked you out to dinner tonight… You wouldn’t tell me I’m a fool and break my heart into a million pieces?” 

Butterflies erupted in Bucky’s stomach at the sensation of your hands sliding over his chest to rest against his neck. “No, Bucky,” you chuckled. “I would tell you that I’m looking forward to our first date, tonight. Nowhere fancy, just casual. Six o’clock sharp.” 

Bucky smiled, all beaming and ecstatic. “I wouldn’t dream of being late.” 

“Good.” You leaned up onto your tip toes and ghosted your lips over his ear. “See you very soon then, Sargeant.” 

Tingles shot down Bucky’s spine and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He fought tooth and nail to crush the moan that rose up his throat and in his internal struggle, he missed how you’d sneakily slipped out of his hold and started to saunter towards the door. 

He almost begged you to come back; the thought of having to wait for you until the evening was unbearable. But those pesky butterflies that invaded his stomach came back strong and fierce as his gaze became glued to the sway of your hips and the sweet perfume that lingered in your exit. 

“Oh,” you stopped suddenly at the doorway and looked over your shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t go tripping over again, you hear me?” You raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Can’t have you falling for me.”

Your damn smirk was intoxicating and Bucky thought himself the luckiest fella alive to be the one taking you out. He licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have a little trouble with that request, Ma’am.” 

The clench of your thighs was unmissable. The way your eyes dilated called to him. Bucky had more game than he realised and he kept that new information tucked safely into the corner of his mind for a later date. 

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Your actions told Bucky everything he needed to know and so he wiggled his fingers with a huge grin locked onto his face and watched you longingly as you left his sight. 

The minute he couldn’t hear your footsteps any longer, Bucky pumped his fist up into the air and began dancing on the spot. 

In his own bubble of happiness, he didn’t hear the footsteps of a new person entering the hallway. Only when an amused clearing of the throat echoed from the doorway did Bucky abruptly stop his dancing and slowly swivel to the intruder. 

Sam stood there, all cocky and mirthful with a shit eating grin on his face. “About time you bagged the girl, man. Dont’cha think?” 

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

When everyone around you swiftly agreed in the spirit of the season, you were the only one who didn’t, although the teasing that quickly drowned you, about you being a scaredy cat, pressured you into joining despite your initial fear. 

Most of the girls leaned into your amusing anxiety and made the game more dramatic than it needed to be, taking every chance they got to make you jump in your seat. But none of their attempts rivalled the one towards the end when one of them spooked you so fiercely that your body shrivelled up and a shrill scream tore its way out your lungs. They all laughed at your reaction and abandoned the board, too entertained by the success in scaring you to continue and wrap up the pretend ritual in the proper way.

However, during every second of the eerie game and even ever past that, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, though it wasn’t just because of how scared you admittedly were, as there was someone else, something else, that caused that sensation to bubble up within you. 

For the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

From the second the sliver of him slipped through, Bucky felt drawn to you and instantly became completely and utterly entranced by you. Your soul was so bright and pure it nearly blinded him as he felt himself grow stronger merely from your presence. 

Who would have thought such luck would have been on his side, for with a perfect and potent little virgin like you in his gasp, an entity such as he would be able to restore his full power in no time. 

And when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he greedily let his spectral touch ghost across your form, sliding off your blanket and coping a feel over your pyjamas, each caress he ravenously claimed felt to him like his lungs once again expanded and filled with oxygen, like he became a little more corporeal and regained just a little bit of his powers the longer and the fiercer he groped you.

Though what he truly needed to regain his full potential, unfortunately, had to wait, as his demonic grip caused you to stir from your slumber just enough for you to roll over into a new position and fall asleep again, never to think more of it than just a light slumber. But perhaps if he kept it up long enough, he’d soon regain enough of his prowess to make sure you wouldn’t rouse no matter what he stole from you in order to return to the grand demon he used to be. 

The home you returned to the next day was just as empty as expected with only a kind note stuck to the fridge as an echo of your mother, reminding you that she wouldn’t be back from her business trip till far into the coming week. 

When darkness fell upon the town and the moon rose up high in the sky, you went up to bed and swiftly drifted off into sleep. 

As Bucky leaned down over your slumbering form, he smiled as he let a finger trace the edge of your face before he bent down and pressed his lips to your own. 

Now, it wasn’t just a kiss he gave you, but a fiendish hex that forced your frame to keep on sleeping, no matter what, until the sun once again crested over the horizon. 

“As much as I’d love for you to wake up and have you witness everything I’m about to do to you,” he brushed some of your hair out of your face, “we can’t have that,” his broad thumb briefly stroked your cheek, “at least not yet…”

Ripping the duvet off, he watched as goosebumps rose and dotted your skin from the chilly night air, how your nipples turned into pebbles beneath your thin nightgown. 

While his consuming gaze raked down your form, his grasp pushed your sleepwear up and let it bunch around your hips, granting him a view of how the cotton of your underwear moulded around your soft centre. 

A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he let himself drift back down, closer to your slumbering frame, “let’s see if we can fix this little problem…” before he pressed a hot kiss to your covered core, briefly running his split tongue over the fabric as the effects took hold. 

When he tilted back, it wasn’t just his own saliva that now drenched your panties, but also your own juices as he had successfully scrounged up enough of his power to force your pussy into a state of desperation, making it extraordinarily leaky and sticky with cream and quite literally drool for him. 

With a primal growl, the throbbing between his legs swayed him to dig his grip into your underwear and tear them off, tossing the shreds off to the side before he spread your legs wide. 

Enclosing his fist around the base of himself, angry and flush in his grip, he offered himself an ouch of relief as he stared down at you.

“Hell… what I wouldn’t give to hear you moan and scream for me… to see fear arise in your mortal eyes at every little thing I’ll offer you… but that’ll have to be another time… can’t have you wake up and ruin the ritual…”’

As he rubbed his fat cock against the mess he’d made of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the staggering difference as his unholy length weighted down upon you, making you look so tiny in comparison, so easy for him to just break. 

“Would you beg me to stop? Would you cry about how big this devil dick is? Whimper about how you couldn’t possibly take it, not even if you weren’t a pure little prude? Yeah, you probably wouldn’t even be able to take it then…” a dark chuckle then crackled within his broad chest, “good thing I don’t care,” before he ruthlessly slammed his cock inside, stretching your poor pussy out beyond belief. 

He let out a deep moan at just how incredible you felt around him, how he had to strain himself to work past your strangling tightness and bury himself completely in your haven. 

“Oh, well would you look at that…” a sly smile crept up on his lips as he glanced down at how you struggled to take him and spotted the tinge of crimson that stained his fat girth as he momentarily retracted, pulling out just till your cunt only clung around the bulbous head of him. His digits floated down to swipe some of your virginal blood up onto the pads of his fingertips before he brought them up to his lips and groaned as he let himself taste your ruined purity, letting himself regain even more of his vigour, “you are just fucking perfect…”

As he let his frame drift down closer to you, he draped himself over your slumbering form as he thrust mercilessly into you, watching you closely at the way his efforts caused you to writhe and tremble in your sleep.

Nibbling at your neck, his lips wandered further down as he ruthlessly rutted into you, splitting you open like the savage monster that he was, and eventually sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder. 

With a low growl, he pushed himself back up, though even as the movement threatened to let his colossal cock leave the warm embrace of your tiny hole, his hands roughly found your hips and brought you back down onto him. 

“Fuck…” he lifted your hips off the mattress and made your back arch obscenely as he used you like a toy, “you’re such a little whore and you don’t even know it yet…” his possessive grip dug into your hips so fiercely that his nails drew blood and left angry scratches in their wake. 

His black eyes then found the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower belly at each and every one of his thrusts, “can’t wait to see how you react when you wake up tomorrow morning, all sore and swollen, wondering why you’re so sensitive. If only you knew that some big bad demon followed you home and tortured your pussy all night long…”

Perhaps his brutal fucking had forced your slumbering form to orgasm more than once, though it was hard for Bucky to ignore it when you came this last time as you squirted all over his fat girth. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he chuckled and kept up his ruthless rhythm, never pausing once as he made your gushing pussy give him each and every drop, “I knew it was true that virgins pack the most powerful punch for us unholy folk, but damn…” he slammed you down against him hard enough for his bullying tip to bruise your cervix, “you’re even better… I might just have to keep you after this…”

And when he soon tumbled over the edge and pumped your little pussy full of his demonic seed, his ethereal form flickered till it wasn’t at all ghostly any longer, till his full power regenerated and he now sat on your bed clear as day with his spent cock limp against his thick thigh and horns protruding from his temples. 

Briefly, he swept his broad hand up your stomach before it scooped down to where you leaked with his essence. 

“Look at you,” he pushed two fingers into your mess and pumped his hot cum that much deeper inside of you, “you’re still so fucking tight…” he struggled to force another thick digit in beside the others. As his cock began to twitch and swell once more, he quietly groaned, “guess that just means we aren’t done yet… you might have helped me with my little problem, but this ain’t over,” he tried and failed to slip his picky finger in beside the rest, “I haven’t finished breaking you in yet, little human,” his free hand found himself in silky strokes, “I won’t stop till you’re fucking gaping for me, till I fit my whole fist up in here,” his thumb quit its attempts at sneaking inside and instead extended up to crudely strum your puffy pearl, “till you’re utterly ruined and completely perfect for me…”

The bassy music rumbled the entire frat house like an earthquake as you leaned over to whisper to Alice that you’d be right back from your libation location mission. 

Though when you stumbled into the kitchen, the crooked feathery wings on your back brushing against the doorframe as you passed, a loud sigh escaped you as your eyes scanned the various bottles lined up on the messy counter and discovered them all to be empty, “argh, seriously?”

That was exactly what you needed. 

To be at a wild Halloween party without any alcohol in your system to make the obnoxious people more bearable and make you forget how you’d rather just go home and try to sleep as none of your efforts all weekend had granted you any ounce of rest, only left you more exhausted than the day before and bizarrely enough also making you sore in the oddest of ways. 

But then as all hope seemed lost, a voice echoed from the corner of the kitchen, “hey, you like tequila?” and you glanced up to see a man in an elaborate demonic costume holding up a full bottle for you to spot. 

“Thank you,” your tense shoulders dropped slightly as you offered him a smile and stepped closer, “though I don’t know if an angel like me should accept a drink from a devil like you,” the joke slipped out of you as you neared him. 

As a bright grin crept up on the man’s lips, he light-heartedly squinted down at you and played along, “hm, yeah, you’re probably right. We demons are an untrustworthy lot. But, I am your only chance at getting drunk and numbing these dumbasses out,” he seized a plastic cup and began to twist the cap off, “so, what do you say?”

“What’ll it cost me? To make a deal like that with a devil?” you kept up the gag, “just my soul or do you want my firstborn or something?” 

Naturally assuming that the handsome stranger was still just joking around, you saw him smile as he poured you a drink and uttered, “oh, your soul will do just fine, sweetheart.”

As he handed you the cup, he joined you as you raised the hard liquor up to your lips, taking a sip of his own straight from the bottle, though he somehow didn’t make a face like you did when the harsh booze poured down your throat, in fact he didn’t even blink as he tipped the bottle back and kept his intense stare glued to you.

“Your costume is really amazing,” you complimented as you let your gaze wander over his burly frame, “your coloured contacts? And those horns? I’ve never seen prosthetics as good as those before.”

You thought the flattery would have pushed him to elaborate, but instead, the mysterious man just murmured, “thank you,” and didn’t entertain the subject any further. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” you uttered and noticed the few grey hairs that faintly speckled his scruff, “are you a professor?” 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head.

A shiver ran down your spine as his stare continued to stay glued upon you, “then what are you doing at a frat party? No offence, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you just look a bit too old to be a student. Not that you couldn’t be, maybe you are–” 

“I’m not a student,” he cut you off, “I just haven’t been feeling that well lately and the person who helped me get better is here, so that’s why I went out tonight, to this college party of all places, to thank her properly and hopefully make her all mine…” 

"Whatcha gettin' ready for, doll?" Bucky leaned on your bedroom doorframe, watching you straighten your hair in the mirror on top of your dresser.

"I have a date." You smiled, not noticing the slight drop in Bucky's smile.

"Oh, with anyone I know?"

You shook your head. "His name's Nash. Someone Sam set me up with," You explained. "He's supposed to pick me up in twenty minutes."

Bucky internally rolled his eyes. The guys Sam hung around with were nice, yes. However, he never got the guts to take you out on the date you deserved. A date with him.

"Are you sure you want him picking you up?" Bucky asked, making you look back in confusion. "I mean you don't know him that well... You could meet him there or uh, I'll drop you off." You let out a small laugh, "Yeah Buck, I'll just have my male roommate drop me off at a date, that'll go over well."

Bucky shrugged. He walked away from your bedroom to grab a beer from the fridge before sitting on the couch. He turned on whatever channel didn't require him to use the remote too much before slouching into the cushions.

Twenty minutes passed by when you slipped out of your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

"Wow, doll. You.." Bucky's eyes widened slightly, "You look great."

You grinned, looking down at your outfit. It was basic but it was the most comfortable yet fashionable outfit you had. Black flared leggings with a sage green sweater and some white sneakers. It was simple yet appropriate for a late-night-diner date.

And to top it all off your makeup had cooperated for once. Both eyebrows looked like twins and not sisters. Your highlight was perfect, shimmering, but not too much. And you had the perfect lipgloss that made your lips look sunkissed. Perfect.

"He should be here any minute!" You sprayed some perfume, your favorite vanilla scent, and went to sit in the armchair across from the couch.

Bucky hummed, keeping his eyes on the Tv, taking another sip of beer.

However, twenty more minutes went by and Nash hadn't texted you, hadn't called, and hadn't shown up. Bucky was starting to feel bad and you could tell by the pity looks he kept throwing your way.

"He uhm," Bucky cleared his throat, "Maybe he hit traffic. You know, with it being New York and everything." You nodded, trying to hold onto at least a small bit of hope. "Yeah, traffic." But then another forty minutes went by and he still hadn't even texted.

And then another hour.

And another hour.

By the time Bucky finally turned off the Tv it was three and a half hours since the time Nash was supposed to come pick you up.

You were still sitting in the armchair, having dozed off with a couple tears streaked down your face. Ruining your once-perfect makeup.

Bucky sighed, silently cursing Sam even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

"Alright, doll," Bucky whispered, placing his metal arm behind your back, and lifting your legs with his right. You groaned awake, holding your phone in your palm as you wiped your cheek. "What time is it?" Your eyes shoot open, "Did he show up?" Bucky placed you in your bed, handing you one of his t-shirts you had stolen a while ago. "No, doll. I'm sorry." You stripped your shirt off to change as Bucky went into your bathroom, grabbing a couple of makeup wipes.

"Here." He softly spoke, hating your distraught and disappointed expression.

You wiped your makeup off, shedding a couple more tears in the process. The tears dripped from your cheek to the grey henley Bucky had given you. "It's okay. Maybe he was just busy." Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to tell you that any respectful man, any gentleman wouldn't have done what Nash did to you. But he kept his mouth shut, opting to hum in your favor, and threw the makeup wipes in the trash when your face was completely bare.

"Goodnight, Doll." He placed a kiss on the crown of your head as you hummed in response. "Goodnight, Buck."

---

A couple days later, you finally got a text back from Nash.

"Bucky I was right!!" You came sliding into the kitchen, your socks making it easy to ice-skate on the smooth wood floor.

Bucky chuckled at your ability to skid so gracefully without falling. He had tried it once but vowed to never do it again after he slid into the dining room table. You would never let him live it down.

"Right about what, doll?" Bucky flipped the pancake, adding some vanilla to the dough.

"About Nash! He actually was busy!" Bucky quirked an eyebrow. Wondering why he had waited this long to text you back. Six days to be exact. "Did he say with what?" Bucky turned back to making breakfast.

"He said he got busy with work, and that something at work pissed him off so he didn't wanna see me while he was upset." You explained what Nash had told you.

Bucky had never wanted to hit someone in the face so hard.

Well, actually that wasn't true. But he did want to sock Nash in the face for standing you up and giving you a half-ass excuse days later.

"I mean that explains things, yeah..." Your brows furrowed at Bucky's flat tone. "Do you not believe it?" Bucky sighed, pulling the milk and eggs from the fridge as you sat on the countertop. "It's not that I don't believe it, it's just that it kinda seems like he forgot and or didn't wanna see you so he made up an excuse a little less than a week later to not seem like a dick." You nodded, taking in the information. Bucky couldn't sense your reaction quite yet, seeing how you were just staring at the ground with your hands in your lap, swinging your legs in the air.

"I mean, I'm seeing him tonight. If everything goes well after then I'll know it really was true."

"You're seeing him again?" You nod, "But this time I'm meeting him at the fourth corner Bakery. And I'm meeting him earlier this time, around noon."

Bucky looked over at the clock, seeing it was already 10:45. "Well you better go get ready," He said almost reluctantly, "Breakfast will be done before you need to leave."

You smiled, hopping off the countertop as you gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Buck. You're the best!"

He smiled, but then remembered he's only making you breakfast before you go on a date with a guy who's already stood you up once. Rolling his eyes, he scrambled the eyes, listening to your music in the other room.

---

You had already left for your date three hours ago when Bucky decided to go over to see Sam. His excuse was wanting to discuss the next mission they were due to go on in a week. But he just didn't want to sit at home all day, thinking about how you were on a date with another guy.

However, before he could reach Sam's he had to pass by the bakery where you were meeting Nash.

Yet when he looked through the window, there you were, sitting all alone at a table for two, eating a piece of cheesecake. No Nash in sight.

An internal war started in Bucky's mind. Should he go in and see if you were okay? Or should he believe Nash was in the bathroom and you were just sitting by yourself for a minute or two?

But then he noticed the solemn look on your face. The way your fork poked at the half-eaten cake. And that was your favorite kind. Bucky mumbled a soft curse, opening the door to the bakery and making his way over to you.

Without words, he sat down, his gloved hand resting on the table in front of your plate. You kept your head down, not quite looking at Bucky but knowing he was there.

"He didn't show, again." You mumbled. If Bucky didn't have super soldier hearing he doubted he could've heard what you had said.

"I know, doll. I'm sorry." You finally looked up, tears in your eyes which made Bucky's heart clench. "Why me, Buck? Why am I the one who's alone?" Bucky stayed silent, knowing you needed to vent.

"Am I unlovable? Is that what it is? Why does every single one of my friends get to find the one? Get to fall in love, get married, and have kids and I'm the one without someone?!" Your outburst made some other customers look over in concern.

You groaned, resting your head on your hand and hiding your face from the rest of the bakery. "I- uh, I'm not sure, doll. But I know one thing.. you're not unlovable. You just haven't found the one who wants to take the effort to show you how effortless you are to love."

You looked up at Bucky, fresh tears gleaming in your eyes. You had never seen him look so vulnerable before. He usually grumped his way through emotions. But not with you, not anymore.

He gave you a sad smile, clearing his throat before he stood, "Y'know what, doll. Let's go." He held out his hand. You looked around, "Where are we going?" Bucky took your palm in his gloved hand, "It's a surprise." You laughed, before standing and throwing the rest of your soggy cheesecake away. "You know how I feel about surprises." "Okay, I'll give you a hint." Bucky opened the door for you, making sure to walk on the side of the road with the bustling cars and traffic. Bucky called a taxi, opening the door for you. "You're about to have the best date of your life." You stared at him in awe before laughing and climbing in the taxi. Bucky's knees barely fit as he scooted in next to you. The driver asked where to go as Bucky licked his lips, "Brooklyn, please." You smiled, "Brooklyn?"

Bucky nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "I may be old but I still know some good spots to take my best girl on a date." A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked over to him. "Your best girl?" Bucky nodded, picking up your hand with his metal one before leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. "Always and forever, doll."

---