Omg I Need Another Parttttt

perfect- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, wanda maximoff, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, bruce banner, sam wilson, etc. avengers except for thor because tbh i forgot him warnings: about: request! PF20 (too long hugs) + PF28 (person a lifting person b up out of excitement) + DF2 (“will you marry me?“) ! where in bucky and reader come from their anniversary dinner, and bucky brings her back to the avengers compound to relax and all. but little does reader know all the avengers are outside preparing the decoration and the garden for bucky to propose to her. then bucky proposes to her then all the avengers go out and congratulate them!

“y’know,” bucky starts, the rough of his voice softened as it always is with you, fond. he’s warm by all its definitions, heating you with his tender gaze as it falls along your features, fingers interlocked with yours, their tips rubbing sweet shapes into the dimples of your skin. “my ma woulda loved you. becca too.”

wobbly lips lift at their edges, your eyes glittering as they meet his profile. “you really think so?”

bucky nods definitively, a faint pull of his lips crinkling his eyes. “no question. becca would call you her sister and mean it by now.”

the little black box in his pocket with its fake velvet pricked and tattered with his anxious fingernails weighs heavier with the reminder of his family. he glances at your interlaced fingers, nearly able to see the ring his mother always wore--the one his father had saved up for for so long--on your own.

he feels the prickle of excitement in his chest at the prospect of his ring on your finger, suddenly unable to keep imagining and more desperate than ever for it to be real, for his thumb to run along your ring finger and bump into the ridges of the band. 

he squeezes your hand in his before he takes his fingers away, trailing them up, up, up until they loop around your wrist, pulling your hand to his chest.

“i planned one more thing for you,” he tells you, furtively sneaking a glimpse at his watch to catch the time. everything should be nearly ready by now, and his excitement tinges with nerves.

your features soften, bouncing on your heels at the revelation. “bucky,” you coo tenderly, pulling his hand along as you raise it to his chin. “this is too much. you know you’re all i need.”

he drops his lips to the back of your hand, dragging them along until they press a kiss to the side of your index. “you’re gonna love it, i promise.”

“i know i will, that’s not a doubt for me,” you reply, words melting away as you observe his face. “i love you.”

he’s never been more certain in anything as he tells you the words back, unable to help himself when he tugs you to him, lips finally meeting. you taste like honey and home, and suddenly bucky can’t wait anymore, pulling away even as every one of his cells begs him to continue kissing you forever. he nudges his nose against yours. “c’mon, i want to see your face when you see it,” he urges gently.

“‘kay,” you agree, letting him pull you along. “is this the surprise that natasha wouldn’t tell me about?”

“maybe.” his reply carries a lilt, hand squeezing yours.

“ooh, then it must be good. she had the little smile she has when it’s a nice surprise.” you shimmy your shoulders in excitement, urging him to move faster. “where are we going?”

“the compound,” bucky responds, jutting his chin in its direction. “figured you’d be tired after being pampered for so long. maybe we watch a movie and you fall asleep on my shoulder after i make you some cookies.”

you stop in your tracks and he stumbles into you, placing his hands on your arms. “bucky, you are incredible. just… fuck.” you stare at him for a moment, eyes wide, before your hands unravel from his grip, rising fast until they’re hot against his cheekbones, pulling his lips to his.

bucky hums against your lips in surprise, fingers twining down to vine around your hips.

“good idea then?” he murmurs against your lips, breathless with your intensity.

“can’t believe you’re mine idea,” you grin, pecking his lips one, two, three times. “let’s go,” you take his hand again, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “i wanna see your surprise, baby.”

he wants to drop to his knee right here and now and beg you to marry him, but you pull at his arm with a pretty pout, reminding him that you deserve perfect, and the closest thing to it waits in his surprise. 

it’s unusually quiet when bucky pushes the doors to the compound open to introduce the dark room, the general buzz of the avengers gone. you pause, sticking your head in to observe the darkness you only see when it’s really late. a glance at bucky’s watch tells you it’s not late enough. you pucker your lips in thought, turning to bucky.

“you got everyone out for the surprise?” you ask, the sight of his teeth digging into his bottom lip enough of an answer. “buck.” you say it long and breathy, disbelieving.

“only the best for my girl.” he winks, guiding you out of the doorway and toward the back. he doesn’t bother to turn on the light, and the gleam of the moon catches on the blue of his irises.

he’s nervous now. glittery static prickling his fingertips, climbing up until it reaches his cheekbones as he covertly glances out the window, catching the glimmer of fairy lights and a blink of a green eye, crinkled as it catches his. it disappears as soon as he sees it with a wink. he lets out a shaky breath, clearing his throat to steady it before he speaks. he slows when he reaches the doors to the garden, velvet curtains cloaking what is supposed to be the perfect setting of the most terrifying night of his life.

vibranium curls around the handle and his pulse quickens under your index.

“hey,” you call, squeezing his hand. “you okay?”

“yeah,” he assures, giving you a meaningful glance before turning the knob.

it’s beautiful as he pushes open the door, breath caught in his throat because it’s even better than he expected. but it’s natasha and wanda and sam and everyone who loves you, and he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. they love you almost as much as he does.

almost.

“oh my god,” you whisper from behind him, gazing at the garden in wonder, petal lips parted, arms limp at your sides. “it’s…” fingertips graze the yellow petals of tulips, gentle against white roses and speckled lilies. the twinkling lights reflect in your eyes. you let out a breath as a conclusion to your statement. “all this for me?”

“i told you,” bucky starts, meeting the vision you are; warm cheeks, grinning eyes, glossed lips pulled into the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. he remembers it from the first date he ever took you on--the brightest thing in the shitty forties themed diner you insisted on going to, caught around a striped straw inside a strawberry milkshake--in your room after the mission that left him in the medbay for a couple nights--vignetted with relief. “only the best for my girl.”

nose burning, eyes filling, you exhale something like a scoff, affectionate. sparkling eyes stare up at him, blinking fast.

“that is ridiculous,” you mutter, words tinged in incredulity and nectar. a tear streaks down your face, but your features are soft, kind.

bucky frowns. “what’s wrong?”

“i have never felt as loved as i do with you.” it’s light as you confess, true and sweet. “you make me feel so loved.”

bucky searches you, thumbs swiping away the tears that bubble down your cheeks. “that’s all i want. why are you crying, sweetheart?”

you sniffle, watery eyes desperate as they pull him in. “marry me, bucky.”

bucky freezes, caught in silence for a moment before his shoulders drop, the weight of the stress gone. “honey, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“what?” it’s dipped in confusion, fearful when he begins to chuckle.

he digs into his pockets, pulling the box out, dropping to a knee like he had been yearning to.

you gasp, lips behind your fingers. there’s rustling that neither of you notice.

“‘had this all planned out,” he starts, laughing tearfully. he pops open the little velvet box. “will you marry me?”

“i asked first,” you hiccup, but you’re dropping to his height too.

“yeah, i’ll marry you, doll. ‘f course i will.”

“me too,” you cry, falling into his arms, the ring forgotten as you kiss his face repeatedly. his arms wrap around you and don’t let go, squeezing you tightly. your arms loop around his neck, hanging on as he rises, lifting you up with him.

“ring,” he remembers, still aching to see it on your finger. he begrudgingly puts you back down on the ground, fumbling with the box to pull it out. your fingers are trembling as you hand them to him, breath getting caught in your throat when he slides it on.

“it’s your mom’s,” you notice, eyeing the deep color of the stone, the small steel hands holding it in place, molding into what looks like flower vines with smaller stones until they’re the other hand. “but it’s different.”

“i wanted it to be perfect for you,” bucky explains, tinted with anxiety. “you like it?”

“it’s perfect,” you confirm, a hand rising to his jaw so you can kiss him again. “everything is perfect.”

excited din finally escapes from the green and the avengers follow, stepping out from behind trees and vines that crawled up to cover them. 

you gasp when you see them, rushing to meet your friends. bucky’s arm stays around your waist, he’s beaming, a grin splitting his face.

tony is out first, his face bright as he envelops you in a hug, whispering his congratulations into your hair. he settles bucky with a tentative smile and a firm nod. “i’m glad it was you, barnes.”

“me too,” bucky tells him.

bruce wraps you tightly in his embrace, before coming up to bucky. “the big guy and i know she can protect herself just fine, but…” he nudges his glasses up his nose. “i’m sure you know what i mean.”

clint drapes an arm around bucky and squeezes. “finally, huh?” he teases. “knew she’d ask you first, though. steve owes me twenty dollars.” you laugh, finding your way back into bucky’s chest again, nestled under his arm.

“you have no idea how hard it was to stay quiet,” wanda exclaims, grabbing your hands.

“i had to cover her mouth with my hand,” natasha adds.

“shut up, you were bouncing on your feet when she asked him to marry her,” wanda argues.

“oh, man, i can’t believe she beat you to it,” sam grins, clapping bucky on the back.

“me neither,” steve groans. “you cost me twenty bucks, punk.”

“sorry,” bucky says offhandedly, but he’s barely paying attention to their words, his focus unmoving on you.

you’re chatting happily with your friends, waving your hands as you speak, smile threatening to overtake your face.

it’s even better than he thought, the sight of his ring on your finger.

Oh my goodness.

5 Times You Are Not Dating Bucky Barnes (and the one time you are) | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 2.6k words |

You're sick of saying it, Bucky is not your boyfriend, you are not dating you're just friends. Until...

Warnings: 18+ for some canon typical violence and for Sam and Joaquin being pains in the arse (affectionate). Friends to lovers vibes, idiots in love, dating but not dating.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

1

Bucky Barnes is not your boyfriend.

At least once a day these words come out of your mouth in some form and it's becoming so frequent now that you're considering just recording yourself and playing it back on your phone.

Colleagues, partners in the field, friends.

Not a couple.

Not dating.

"Did you hear that, Wilson? She said —"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Sam rolled his eyes at Bucky, sighing dramatically in a way that only Sam is really allowed to get away with. Bucky hadn't taken his eyes from your laptop screen or the secure file you were scrolling through.

"Look awful close though."

You looked up this time, the top of your head brushing Bucky's cheek, his breath was warm against your own and the contrast between his exhale and the cold glass of the table gave you goosebumps.

"We're reviewing the data Joaquin sent us, what do you want us to do?" You snapped, scrolling to the next page of mind numbingly boring KPIs and MIs. Just your luck to get the management files and nothing juicy.

"Perhaps you could use the projector?" Sam clicked a button on the table and the details on your screen lit up the plain, white wall of the conference room.

Embarrassed heat flared up your spine and you shivered.

"Not very secure though, is it, Captain?" Bucky picked up the remote and switched the projector off, his eyes on the laptop screen.

The plastic of your chair squeaked as he tightened his hold on it, and the door slammed shut behind Sam.

2

You followed your nose from the cool darkness of the operations room to the open living area. Tedious as it was to be stationed in the middle of nowhere for recon, you couldn't fault the accommodation, it was almost like being on holiday, apart from the gruelling shifts staring at monitors every day.

Somewhere further along the corridor the sound of good-natured arguing grew louder, Bucky's voice rising above the others and warning them not to disturb you. There was a brief pause before you heard Sam and Joaquin start laughing and Bucky's heavy sigh.

"Morning," you gave a small sleepy smile to the assembled team. Joaquin smiled back, raising his coffee cup in greeting. Sam grinned and you knew instantly that there was something going on. "What now?" You sighed, sending both men in to fits of laughter.

Bucky handed you a cup of tea and bowl of yogurt and granola, a handful of blueberries and raspberries on top.

"Thanks, I'm starving." You bumped his hip as you wandered past to join your teammates at the kitchen island and earned yourself a rare smile.

"What've you got there?" Sam asked, peering into your bowl.

"Usual," you mumbled, sipping your tea. Perfect.

"Uh huh, the usual." He looked up at Bucky, whose face was slowly turning the same colour as the raspberries.

"Can I have some yoghurt, Bucky?" Joaquin asked, innocently.

"Nope." Bucky said, watching you take the first bite and allowing the corner of his mouth to turn up in a smile when yours did.

"Oh, did we run out?"

"Nope."

Bucky put the almost full pot back into the fridge, fixed his coffee and sat down too, shuffling his stool a little closer to you. His hair was still a little damp and you could smell the familiar scent of his shampoo, his bare arm bumping against yours as he took a sip of coffee.

Sam and Joaquin emptied out the last of their coffees into the sink and slunk away, whispering and laughing conspiratorially about "special treatment for girlfriends."

Bucky was, as usual, ignoring them and flipping through a week old newspaper and sipping his coffee. He caught you watching and gave you a mock glare, nothing like the hard stare he'd given Sam and Joaquín earlier.

Then he turned the pages slightly so you could see and you let your head rest on his shoulder, still sipping your tea.

3

"I'm sorry, okay, please stop giving me the cold shoulder." Sam followed after you as you picked your way back to the jet, trying to catch up so you could walk together.

"Absolutely not, I want to be angry for at least two more hours." You grouched, squeezing water from your tactical gear.

"C'mon, it's a little funny," Joaquin laughed, taking up space on your other side.

"Fuck off, Torres, if you had fish swimming in your tac suit you'd be mad too. "

Bucky met you at the cargo door, towel in hand and glaring at your team mates.

"Hell happened to you lot? And why are there fish in your suit?" He scanned you all quickly for serious damage, but it was just your ego that was bruised really.

"Someone, told me it was totally safe to cross this rickety fucking bridge back there," you scowled again.

It really wasn't Sam's fault, it looked perfectly safe or you wouldn't have started to cross, but it was clearly rigged to fall and that's exactly what you'd done, straight into the stagnant water below.

In their gear Sam and Joaquin had been fine. You, on the other hand, had been soaked from head to toe.

"Let's get you in something clean and dry," Bucky gently ushered you into the cool darkness of the jet, soothing your embarrassment with his own stories and wiping mud from the back of your neck as if it was an everyday occurrence.

"I don't think there's anything left in my locker after we got caught in that storm a few weeks back." Embarrassment made your skin itchy and your blood cold. You had spare underwear, maybe, at best.

"Don't worry," Bucky put his back to the door of the small bathroom while you stripped off your dirty clothes inside, "I've got something."

When you reappeared fifteen minutes later, cleaner, dryer, it was in a pair of Bucky's spare sweat pants and the black t-shirt he'd been wearing.

Joaquin raised his eyes but made the decision not to comment and incur your wrath any further.

Sam, on the other hand, chose to tease Bucky instead, their arguing bouncing around the jet while you tried to get comfy on the thin flight seats.

"Got your territory all marked then, Barnes?" He laughed, eyes darting between the two of you.

"Don't know what you're on about, Wilson." Bucky snapped back.

"She's in your clothes, couldn't find any spares? Nothing of mine of Joaquin's back there? You're getting more possessive." Sam shot you a look, "you need to tell him to fuck off."

"I'm good, Sam, thanks for your concern."

"Ahh so you are —"

"We're not dating!" You shouted in unison.

Which only made Sam and Joaquín laugh harder.

It was okay though, you were safe again now and, snuggling deeper into the body warmth of Bucky's t-shirt and definitely a lot less angry than you had been, you really felt safe too. How could you feel any other kind of way, when you could smell his body wash, when he had dried your face so carefully and helped you into your clean clothes.

He looked over at you, eyes still checking for injuries.

"You okay over there? Warm enough?" You nodded and he nodded back, smiling.

4

Joaquin woke with a jolt when the plane hit turbulence, there was a crick in his neck and a sore muscle in his back screaming for a soft bed and his favourite pillow. But no such luck, just an army evac in the dead of night.

Beside him Sam had spread out a blanket and his jacket on the floor, using his rucksack as a pillow and snoring soundly. He could always sleep anywhere, you all could, especially after the day you'd had.

Bucky had taken up a spot sat on the floor like Sam, but with his back to the thin benches, his pack holding up his head. In the gloom he could see Bucky's left arm rigidly holding his body up, elbow locked, because on the right you were leaning into him. His arm was around your shoulders and you'd curled your body into his, pressing into his side, face tucked into his neck and hand under his shirt.

The plane rattled again and Bucky blinked one eye open, his body still as he scanned around quickly before locking eyes with Joaquin.

"You two comfy?" Joaquin whispered and Bucky scowled back. He'd expected Bucky to push you away, but instead he tugged you closer.

Joaquin made a tiny heart shape with his fingers and then mimed kissing.

Bucky flicked up his middle finger and then closed his eyes.

5

"So, Playboy, got any plans tonight," Sam asked, scuffing Joaquin on the back of the head while you pulled your bag out of the gym lockers.

It'd been a long day and you couldn't wait to order a ridiculous amount of food, put your pyjamas on and forget the world existed.

"You know me, Sam. Keepin' my options open." The younger man grinned back.

"Lotta fingers in a lotta pies, have you Torres?" You snickered.

Bucky shut his locker with a slam. "Don't be crude," he grouched, but you saw the way he smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"Something like that," Joaquin shrugged.

"What about you man, hot date?" Joaquin asked,

"Nah," Sam turned away and Joaquin finished towelling his wet hair and started digging his clothes from his bag before wandering off for some privacy.

You slid your trainers back on, tucking your boots in your locker and wondering why they were both suddenly so interested in each other's dating life.

"Not even Leila," you needled, breaking the silence and poking him in the side.

"What's it got to do with you anyway? You seeing anyone tonight?"

"Nope, just me and some Chinese takeout tonight, maybe a little flirt with Netflix," Sam gave you a slightly sad look, but what did you care, it wasn't the only Friday night that would ever happen and you were exhausted.

"I was going to get noodles, do you want to come back to mine, we can split an order?" Bucky asked, fishing his keys from his gym bag and nodding his head towards the door.

"Ohh yes as long as we can get dumplings."

"Obviously we're getting dumplings."

"And maybe fried rice?"

"Rice and noodles?"

"You get one, I'll get the other, we'll split it."

"Fine."

"Shall I follow you —"

"Leave your car by the hanger, I'll drive you back in tomorrow."

"Perfect, let's grab a bottle of wine from the store on the way back."

Bucky groaned, holding the door open for you, "how many times have I said, the only acceptable drink with Chinese takeout is Tsingtao."

The door shut as Joaquin rounded the lockers again, a confused look on his face."Do they know it's Valentines Day?"

Sam laughed, "I don't think so but I can't wait to see their faces tomorrow when they figure it out."

+1

"I've got him, Bucky, you watch the trucks?" You put your sight back to your eye, shuffling your shoulders, settling lower into the ground, you breathed deeply as you prepared to take the shot.

"You'll give away your position, you're too close, fall back." Bucky's voice was surprisingly frantic in your ear.

"Quiet, please. I can do this."

"Leave her, Buck, she's got this."

"Cap's right, gotta have a little faith."

"It's too risky —"

You turned your comm off. You'd been watching this gang for weeks hoping to catch them in the act and you had the perfect chance.

Sam and Joaquin had been leading your infiltration of their den and everything had been going swimmingly — until their leader had walked out and thrown everything into chaos.

You caught the kickback from your rifle with practised ease, your aim perfect, the apparent leader of the group crumpled to the ground, bleeding from his now shattered kneecap. Nothing fatal, you wanted to see him on the stand as did the rest of the team.

You touched your ear piece again ready to gloat about your excellent hit but Bucky's panicked voice found you instead.

"Run, I'm coming but you've gotta run, go —go! Why aren't you going!"

You turned, surrounded by three armed guards, and did the only thing you could do. Fight back.

This wasn't the best time for close quarters combat, but you needed time to reach your handgun or your dagger or something.

Dodging around you gained enough time to slip a knife from your thigh holster.

"I've got it, Buck. Go to Sam."

"No you fucking haven't."

Your arm moved, swiping at your first assailant and leaving a splatter of blood behind. Still low you lurched for the second man's legs, jabbing upwards as he bent down to you. The blade pierced the top of his thigh and blood gushed out as you twisted your wrist and tugged.

"Don't kill anyone." Sam admonished.

But you were too focused to care. The third guard was huge, broad and carrying a knife to match. But it was the gun pointed at your temple that had your heart pounding.

"Put the gun down little lady, we don't want any more messes for you to clean up." The man leered forward, pressing the hot muzzle of the gun into your skin.

"Fuck off." You spat back.

He bent closer, sliding his dagger back into its holster, giving him a free hand to pinch your cheeks. "Such a dirty mouth, what will I do with you."

"She said, fuck off."

The man looked blank, turning his head to find Bucky towering over him gun pressed to his back.

"You okay?" He asked, glancing at you quickly.

"Fine."

"You're a lucky bastard today." Bucky pulled the trigger and you closed your eyes against the spray.

The man shouted, clutching at his shoulder where blood was pouring between his fingers, the wound wider at the front.

"How's that lucky, Bucky?" You chastised, brushing leaves and dirt from your tactical suit and grabbing your rifle.

"If you were hurt, I'd have shot him in the head." He answered, simply, and you felt yourself go hot all over at the thought of what he'd do for you.

Sam and Joaquin landed behind you and rushed forwards.

"We heard more shots, is everyone okay? — What the hell guys I said minimal damage." Sam groaned.

"Would've been easier if someone—" Bucky looked at you, "had left their comms on and run when I'd said."

You rolled your eyes, "I was fine, look." All three patrol guards lay bleeding on the ground.

"That guy had a gun to your head, you were not fine."

"I had him on the ropes." You smiled, but it wavered, you had been scared and your heart had been racing seeing Bucky sneak up on him. "Plus, I've got my knight in shining armour to shoot people for me." You grinned up at Bucky, blood painted on your uniforms and across your cheeks.

"Good thing too." Bucky threaded his fingers through your chest holster and tugged you forwards, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. You hummed happily and leant into him before he set you back down

"If you're done, Sam, can we go back to the jet? I've got bad guy blood all over me, yuck." You made a face and wiped your cheek with the back of your hand before strolling off with Bucky, rifles over your shoulders.

"Did they just—" Joaquin looked over at Sam.

"Yeah —"

"How long?"

"No idea."

As you rounded the corner Bucky took your hand again, tugging you closer and pressing a kiss to your head where the imprint of the gun still lingered.

"Does this finally mean I'm your boyfriend?"

"Because you shot someone for me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, sure." You smiled, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

…bucky eating you out while you’re reading your book to him out loud. it wasn’t a sexy book honestly, it was one that was supposed to make you think but how were you supposed to do that with his lips latched onto your swollen cunt and sucking hard

“keep talkin’ doll.” he mumbles against your wet pussy, his tongue lazily swiping up and down through your folds, slick dribbling down his chin. you clear your throat as you grip your book, knuckles almost turning white

“e-eden knelt, her pale knees becomin— fuck..!” your hips stutter as you feel two of his thick fingers slowly push inside your wet heat, groaning.

“becoming what, sweetheart?” he teases as his tongue swirls around your clit, his fingers sinking deep and slow into your pussy with each word that leaves your lips as you continue to struggle to read

💞your intrusive thoughts don't make you a bad person💞

sushi and fun mugs- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, sam wilson, steve rogers, random ocs and duck variant quack warnings: people misjudging bucky, reader being upset about it, somewhat short about: request! bucky is super quiet and intimidating and everybody is parting like the red sea whenever he's around yet there's *this one agent* who does everything to make him feel included and loved. everybody thinks she's being delusional for trying but, is she?

“how do you think he takes his coffee?”

“black.” genevieve leans back in her chair, lips puckering as she thinks, eyes thinning. “pure black. no milk, no sugar—he probably just chews on the beans.”

you send her a look and ignore her reponse. “i think he’d take it with sugar. lots of it.”

genevieve’s nose wrinkles, meeting your eye in incredulity. “he doesn’t seem like the type to have a sweet tooth,” she tells you. “sugar fuckin’ turns to… like salt or something in his mouth.”

shrugging, you jut out your bottom lip thoughtfully, cocking your head to catch a glimpse of the man in question through the captain’s office window. bucky barnes sits silently at the table, listening to steve as he talks and ignoring the quips sam wilson seems to be making. you see him roll his eyes twice after sam manages a chuckle from steve, not reacting when he’s nudged with a playful elbow.

“i disagree,” you respond finally. “i think he’s plenty sweet.”

steve and sam finish up the conversation with a single word from bucky, beginning to get up and leave the conference room. a moment after they’ve opened the door, bucky parts his lips with a silent sigh and stands as well, turning in time to catch your stare.

you smile at stunning blue beneath tense eyebrows, lifting two fingers in an enthusiastic wave. bucky manages a rigid lilt of his lips back at you.

“see?” you say to genevieve, who sends you a grimace.

“he looks like it’s physically paining him to have to interact with you.”

with a final glare her way, you move away from her desk, spinning when you hear sam’s voice nearby.

“hey, sam! steve,” you greet. sam returns your grin and musses up your hair while steve settles with a controlled smile and a nod.

“how’s my favorite agent? still kicking ass?” sam asks.

“i just finished up that mission two days earlier than planned, so… yeah,” you brag with a wink. “how’re sarah and the kids?”

“good. she went on a date yesterday, still gotta see how that went. jim and jody start school again next week, so they call to complain about it whenever they can. somethin’ about superhero uncle privileges.”

you suck air in through your teeth and stare up at him guiltily. “they bring up good points.”

“that’s the problem!” sam exclaims, eyes flickering to something off to the side. “someone needs me. talk to you later.” he pats your shoulder before taking his leave.

you turn to steve, bouncing on your heels excitedly. “how’s your cat?”

steve laughs before replying, already slipping his phone out from his back pocket. “she’s doing great. already stealing my socks.” he shows you his phone’s screen, faint smile on pink lips as you eye the orange cat over pairs of mismatched socks, disappointed frown on its snout as it stares into the camera.

“oh, that’s love,” you praise with a clap. “and art class? monday, right?”

“yup. surprisingly relaxing.”

“i told you,” you pester before catching movement on bucky’s end. he steps out, and the agents that had gathered in front of the office to talk to the other avengers silence, beginning to dissipate. you frown, able to see bucky’s indifference but not having it in you to mimic it yourself.

you bend to grab a mug of coffee you’d prepared earlier, giving steve a friendly smile and a tilt of the drink. “be right back.”

you weave your way to bucky until you’re next to him, cheeks pulled as you offer him the large teal mug, index finger over the bump of the ceramic octopus’ eye, pinky grazing one of the tentacles at the bottom.

“hello,” you say.

bucky stares at you. “hi.”

“i made you coffee.” you shake the drink a little. “i hope you like it, it’s completely based on my assumptions.” you chuckle lightly at yourself. “if you don’t, it’s fine.”

bucky’s eyes continue to bore into you, but you don’t falter, continuing to smile with the octopus mug in hand. slowly, his fingers reach to hook around the handle, pulling it to his chest.

“thank you.” he’s gruff as always, but there’s a note of surprise sewn in that you find interesting.

“no problem,” you quip, beginning to head back toward your desk, but you stop yourself, pointer finger in the air as if you’d recalled something. “oh! some of the other agents and i are ordering in from this sushi place that’s supposed to be really good. would you like to join us?”

you can feel genevieve’s stare as you offer it, catch the confused part of bucky’s lips as he mulls it over in confusion.

“...really?” he says finally, shifting on his feet somewhat suspiciously.

you giggle. “of course! we’d love to have you there.”

there’s another brief pause of his intense staring and your intense beaming before he clears his throat. “sure. why not?”

“great! it’s at the conference room on the third floor, see you there!”

bucky isn’t left with much of a response as you turn and walk over to the incredulous look on genevieve’s face.

-

bucky’s grumbling in the elevator next to sam, shuffling his feet as he concentrates on the lowering numbers above the elevator doors, made out of bright white dots underneath smooth glass. sam stares at him, watching him clench his jaw, ocean irises stormy.

“you’re really gonna eat with ‘em?”

bucky grunts in response, rolling his shoulders.

“now, why the hell would you do that?”

he sniffs, tongue swiping at dry lips. sam brightens, dark, squinted eyes widening in annoying realization, mouth pulling into an understanding grin. bucky groans when he says your name.

“‘shoulda known,” sam says, a lilt to his words that makes bucky huff a little sigh.

“she asked.” is bucky’s explanation.

“i ask you for things all the time,” sam complains, stubbornly shoving his hands in his pockets, lips in a wobbly thin line.

bucky feels the wait between five is three is longer than it should be.

“s’what? i gotta be a pretty girl and make some coffee for your grumpy ass?” sam asks. the doors part and bucky exhales in relief, stepping through them but sam’s not finished. sam’s never fucking finished. “is that how i get you to stop eating my fuckin’ ice cream? do some paperwork?” he calls.

bucky flips him the bird, searching for the conference room and your bright smile.

he spots it a few paces away through the window, licking his lips again when he catches your eye. his opportunity to ditch this entire thing is out the window the moment you send him an excited wave with chopsticks between your fingers.

you’re the only one who’s seen him until he pushes open the door and all eyes turn to him, conversation dying on every tongue once soaked in teasing jests. bucky looks around the room, nose twitching. the tension is palpable and he thinks he should leave.

then you cheer his name, bouncing off your seat to wrap your fingers around his bicep, tugging him to the chair next to yours. he spies eyes widening and thinks the agents are being a little dramatic. “i didn’t think you were coming,” you admit.

“‘told you i would,” he reminds gruffly, scanning shocked features. “did they know i was?”

“what? oh.” you wave a hand dismissively at your coworkers. “the more the merrier. paula invited her yoga instructor once.”

it’s still tense, chopsticks frozen around sushi as if unsure what to do next, but you’re either oblivious to it or you don’t care, chattering on with explanations about the different types of sushi available.

“help yourself,” you finish, setting a plate down in front of him. “what were you saying, toby? about last night’s yoga?”

toby eyes bucky uneasily, biting down on his bottom lip uncertainly. “uh. just saying how much of a weirdo this instructor was.”

everyone nods stiffly.

“right! now i’m glad i didn’t take you up on your invitation,” you laugh. “my dog makes a great yoga buddy, though, so it worked out.”

“yeah,” patricia pipes up hesitantly, eyes still flickering from bucky to you. “how is quack?”

you beam so brightly you put down your food. “he confuses the sit and roll over commands, so if i tell him to sit, he’ll roll over, but if i tell him to roll over, he lays down. not sure why but i love him anyway.”

“what’ll make him sit?” bucky asks, all knitted brows and gruff voice.

“down,” you reply, then raise a finger. “but also, strangely enough, if i say the word ‘duck.’”

bucky grunts, shoving one of the pieces of sushi you recommended to him into his mouth.

the silence that follows is long and uneasy.

“my hamster died yesterday,” genevieve blurts suddenly. you send her a confused look as the other agents say their quiet apologies.

bucky chews slowly. “sorry for your loss.”

“thanks,” genevieve replies. she clears her throat. “i should go… train. for the… mission.”

“right,” patricia says, standing too. “yes. we’re very dedicated agents, sergeant.”

bucky wrinkles his nose and she shifts awkwardly. “...sir.”

toby packs up, too, sending your pout a quick smile. “i’ll see you later,” he offers, inhaling sharply before he ducks his chin at bucky. “um, it was… very nice eating with you, sergeant bucky barnes, sir.”

they scramble away, leaving only you and bucky in the conference room.

bucky tenses his jaw as you frown.

“think that was because of me, doll.”

“no!” you argue. “there really is a mission. at some point.” a sigh. “i’m sorry, bucky—”

“why? you didn’t do anything, sweetheart. i’m just saying that you should’ve probably expected that—”

“if they knew you—”

“they don’t like me, they’re not gonna know me.” bucky pops a pieve of sushi into his mouth as you look at the door disapprovingly.

“it’s not that they don’t like you,” you contest. “it’s just… you’re so angry all the time—”

“that’s just my face, sweets, i’m not angry.”

“maybe,” you pause. “smile a little.” at his grunt, you poke his side. “just sometimes. as a peace offering,” you tease, then grin brightly as if to show him what to do.

he glowers at you for a moment before sighing, swallowing his food. “fine.” he tries it, lips twitching up into a strained smile.

you wince, patting his cheek gently. “thank you for trying, baby.”

“what? you don’t like my award-winning smile?” bucky jests, beginning to eat again.

“i like it when it’s real,” you retort, tapping his nose with your finger. “you have a very pretty real smile, bucky.”

bucky’s features set again, but his cheeks pink. “thanks, sunshine.” he runs his tongue over his teeth. “sorry you’re stuck eatin’ with me.”

you humph disdainfully. “i love eating with you. and today’s gossip wasn’t even that good, bucky, don’t even worry about it.”

“really? nothing about joanie’s date?”

“nope.”

“what about genevieve’s email admirer? toby’s secret child?”

“hasn’t messaged in a week, is his cat, i think.”

“well then. i guess we’d be the best gossip today, huh?”

“we’d always be the best gossip, bucky, please,” you condemn. 

“we probably are. little sunshine eating with the big bad wolf. they’re probably sayin’ i’m taking your food or something.” bucky laughs.

you beam, cocking you head at him.

“what?” he asks.

“i told you your real smile was real pretty.”

bucky grunts, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair. “sunshine, you’re really ruining my reputation here.”

“you like it,” you badger.

“i do,” bucky hums, scanning your face with quick blue movements. you’re so bright and pretty, light in a way that makes him feel dirty for daring to kiss his shadows over your sunshine. he growls in frustration, catching the concerned knit of your brows before he dives to kiss you. “i really do.”

this is facts

I cannot wait for the next part of this cause lawd my knees are shakin

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CsudqThAl9o/?igshid=MmJiY2I4NDBkZg==

Qb bucky is ready he just needs his assistant to accept her fate

Pairing: QB!Bucky x Grumpy!Assistant Reader

AN: Written on my phone.

Part of the QB Series.

Bucky looks at you, wide-eyed and hopeful as his teeth rake across his bottom lip. "So," the word is dragged out, your brow raises instinctively when he tapers off with a grin.

You tilt your head, gesturing for him to continue. You know what he's trying to ask but you've decided to be obtuse, forcing him to say the words aloud. Perhaps it's a little mean of you but it's so much fun to watch him squirm.

After a few long seconds, Bucky realizes you're not going to help him, his shoulders slump and his long fingers card a messy path through his soft, mussed locks. "It's for charity."

You shrug.

"I-it's for a children's charity," he implores, brows knitting in disconcernation.

Your eyes drop to your phone, a few taps on the screen and the sounds of your newest show fill the room.

Unperturbed, he continues. "I'll give you the money, all you have to do is bid on me."

You don't look up, instead you deliberately turn up the volume. His desperate huff does something to your chest but you choose to ignore it, the same way you're ignoring the six-foot-something quarterback sitting across from you.

"Okay, okay. Fine," he mutters under his breath. He's not above begging if thats what it takes. Bucky pushes his chair back and stands. He goes to you, turning your seat around, the legs scrape against the floor. Your phone is lifted from your hand, carefully placed on the table.

Bucky drops to his knees before you and he cants his head back so you have no choice but to gaze into his pretty blue eyes—you feel as if you just stepped off a cliff, the wind rushing up while your heart drops to your stomach.

"Please," he shamelessly pleads, his deep voice rolls down your spine, your attention torn between his face and his large hands gripping your thighs as he kneels between them.

Bucky repeats the word, whispering it so sweetly and urgently, willing to offer everything he has just to hear you say yes. Please say yes.

He needs you to win. If you don't, then all his plans are ruined. Bucky hasn't told you all the details of the auction, too wary to reveal what's in store for the winner of his particular date, he has this distinctive feeling that if you know exactly what you're in for that you won't even show up to the gala.

"Please. Please. I'll do anything you want. Just please don't let someone else win." I want to be yours.

The heat from his palms pierces through the thin layer of your shorts, sinking into your veins and settling into the depths of your chest. Your heart beats erratically as obscenely erotic images of his large hands on your body, touching every part of you and claiming you as his own flash in your mind.

"I'll think about it," you concede, trying to apparent unaffected by the massive man on his knees for you.

If he hears the breathy waver in your tone, sees the faint hint of excitement and nerves in your pretty eyes, he doesn't say anything. He could tease you about the way your thighs are trembling under his hold but he doesn't.

But after he wins, after you discover what he has planned for the two of you, he's going to show you how much fun begging and teasing can be.

oh handcuffs and bucky just go together

Christmas Present | B. B.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Themes: Christmas Meet-Ugly, forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers(ish), rom-com Summary: You and Bucky are fighting over the last deluxe holiday gift set. The petty bickering escalates into a full-blown argument in front of shocked holiday shoppers, causing store security to intervene. As punishment, the frazzled guard handcuffs you together in the security office until you both "calm down." A/N : This oneshot is part of my 4K Follower christmas themed celebration. I hope you enjoy this first one! Thank you so much for reading my stories! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be a quick trip. Grab the deluxe toy train set, pay, and leave. That was the plan. But life had other plans, and those plans came in the shape of a six-foot something man with a smirk as sharp as the jawline above it.

You reached for the last box on the shelf—your prize, your golden ticket, the sole reason you braved the chaos of twenty-third shoppers.

"Excuse me, I believe I was here first," you said sweetly, gripping the box.

"Excuse you, sweetheart," the man countered, one metal hand already gripping the other end of the box. "I had my eye on this before you decided to swoop in like some holiday vulture."

"Holiday vulture?!" you spat, yanking the box closer to your chest. "I don’t see your name on it, Terminator."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to make you flinch. “Name’s Bucky, not Terminator. And I’d be happy to write it on the box for you... after I take it home.”

“Not happening,” you hissed, tugging harder. The box creaked ominously under the strain.

“Let go,” he growled.

“You let go!”

By now, a crowd of amused onlookers had formed, phones out, capturing every moment like a live-action reality show. One kid shouted, “Go lady! You’ve got this!” while a woman in a reindeer sweater whispered, “This is better than The Bachelor.”

“Look, lady,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, “I don’t want to ruin Christmas for you—”

“Oh, really? That’s what this feels like!”

“But my friend’s kid specifically asked for this,” he finished, as if that were a valid excuse.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, so did my niece. And unlike you, I didn’t wait until the last minute to shop.”

“Your cart’s full of candles!” he shot back, pointing to your precariously stacked haul.

You gasped, scandalized. “They’re scented candles and they make great gifts! Not that you’d understand.”

“I understand they’re not as hard to find as this!” he said, gesturing wildly to the now-doomed train set.

The tug-of-war escalated, your battle waging in the aisle of festive chaos. The crowd grew, complete with commentary.

“Bet five bucks on the lady!”

“Ten on the guy with the arm!”

And then—CRASH. The box tore clean down the middle, spilling its contents across the floor. Tiny train cars scattered like shrapnel, and a miniature conductor figure flew into a nearby stroller, making the baby cry.

Gasps echoed through the store as you and Bucky froze, still clutching your respective halves. Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

A whistle cut through the air. “Alright, break it up, you two!”

You turned to find a middle-aged security guard glaring at you like an exhausted babysitter. His name tag read “Carl,” and he looked about one tantrum away from quitting.

“We were just—”

“I don’t care!” Carl snapped, his moustache twitching with barely contained rage. “Both of you. Security office. Now.”

The security office smelled like stale coffee and regret. You sat handcuffed to Bucky, who, despite his protests, looked far too comfortable with the situation.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, yanking futilely on the cuffs. “We’re adults!”

“Debatable,” Carl deadpanned, sipping from his 'World’s Best Grandpa' mug. “You two are staying cuffed until you learn how to act like it.”

“I’m not a criminal!” you protested.

“Not what the footage shows,” Carl replied, spinning his chair to reveal the grainy security camera feed of you and Bucky mid-squabble. The freeze-frame of you squawking like a bird while clutching a toy train in a death grip was particularly unflattering.

“I’m offended on her behalf,” Bucky said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, elbowing him.

“You’re the one who tore the box!”

“You’re the one with the metal arm. That thing’s basically a wrecking ball!”

Carl slammed his mug down. 

“Enough!” He massaged his temples like a teacher on their last day before retirement. “You’re staying here until I feel confident you won’t burn the store down.”

“Burn the store down?” you repeated, aghast, throwing your hands in the air as much as the cuffs allowed.

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” Carl muttered, eyeing both of you like feral raccoons fighting over a sandwich. With an exhausted sigh, he locked the door behind him and muttered something about “needing a damn coffee break,” leaving you and Bucky alone in the tiny, overheated room.

The silence that followed was so oppressive it felt like the room had shrunk. Only the faint, mocking jingle of Jingle Bells played faintly from the store’s speakers as you and Bucky sat shoulder-to-shoulder, stewing.

Bucky, apparently unable to sit still, started bouncing his knee—a rapid, relentless motion that made your entire chair vibrate like a washing machine on spin cycle.

“Stop that,” you snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, his knee bouncing harder.

“Your leg,” you hissed. “The whole chair is shaking! Are you trying to make me seasick?”

His lips twitched, clearly enjoying your misery. “It’s a free country.”

“Not for your knee, it’s not!”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be bouncing my knee if I wasn’t chained to someone with candle obsession issues,” he shot back.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who went full WWE over a toy train set!”

“You’re the one who tore it in half, lady!” he said, pointing accusingly.

“I was fighting for my family’s honor,” you retorted dramatically, crossing your arms as much as you could.

“You mean your candles.”

“It’s called being thoughtful, you Grinch impersonator!”

His knee bounced harder, and you grabbed his leg in desperation, making him pause. “Seriously, stop! I’m going to throw up, and then you’ll really regret this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But only because you look like you might actually hurl, and I don’t need Carl coming back and cuffing me to the radiator this time.”

“So,” Bucky continued after a beat of silence, “Do you always fight strangers over train sets, or is today special?”

You glared at him. “Do you always shop last minute and ruin people’s holidays, or is that your side gig?”

He snorted. “Ruining holidays? That’s harsh. I’m saving them.”

“By what? Sabotaging shoppers?”

“By making sure my best friend’s kid gets the one thing he asked for,” Bucky replied, voice softening slightly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. 

“Okay, that’s… kind of sweet,” you admitted reluctantly.

“What about you?” he asked. “Candles for everyone?”

“No,” you mumbled. “The train set was for my niece. She’s… had a tough year.”

Bucky nodded, silence enveloping the two of you yet again, the tinny chorus of Frosty the Snowman blared overhead, and the absurdity of your situation finally hit you. You started giggling, and to your surprise, so did he.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, still grinning.

“This,” you said between laughs. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been part of.”

“Right,” he agreed, laughing harder.

For the first time since being forced to sit there, you weren’t arguing. Well, unless you counted arguing about whose laugh was uglier.

Carl finally returned, jangling the keys like a janitor who had seen too much. His Santa hat was slightly askew, and his mustache twitched with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He looked like someone’s adorable grandpa who had just been told the grandkids set fire to the Christmas tree.

“Alright, you two,” he grumbled, unlocking the cuffs. “You’re free. But before you go…”

He planted his hands on his hips, his gut straining against his red vest, and glared at you like you’d just stolen cookies from the jar. 

“I’ve been doing this job for fifteen years, and let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of nonsense. But this—” he waved a hand between you and Bucky “—takes the fruitcake. Grown adults fighting over a toy train set like it’s the last turkey on Earth? Really?”

You started to open your mouth to argue, but Carl cut you off with a stern wag of his finger.

“No, no. Don’t even try to explain. You’re both guilty. Guilty of being Christmas disasters. And you…” he pointed at Bucky, his stubby finger trembling with indignation. “You’re what? Pushing 40? Shouldn’t you know better?”

That’s when Bucky’s lips twitched. And twitched again. And suddenly, he was laughing. Not just chuckling—a full-on, shoulder-shaking laugh that echoed through the tiny room.

Carl’s mustache twitched in annoyance. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said between gasps for air, “but… I’m being lectured by someone who looks like Santa’s understudy.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re like a cute little Christmas elf—just missing the pointy shoes.”

Carl’s face turned as red as his vest. “I am not cute!” he barked.

“You kinda are,” Bucky said, grinning.

You smacked his arm. “Stop antagonizing him!”

But even you couldn’t suppress a giggle as Carl threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I’m done. Get out. Both of you. Before I call other mall security and have you escorted out by the Grinch Squad.”

Bucky saluted dramatically. “Merry Christmas, Carl!”

Carl muttered something about needing a stiff eggnog and waddled back to his desk, leaving you and Bucky to stumble out of the security office.

“Well, that was fun,” you deadpanned, starting to walk away, only to stop when Bucky called out.

“Wait! Hey!”

You turned, eyebrows raised. “What? Did you leave your dignity back there?”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the first time since the ordeal started, he actually looked... awkward.

“I, uh… was just wondering what you’re doing after this.”

You blinked at him, genuinely caught off guard. “What am I doing? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, serious,” he said with a little shrug, his smirk less cocky and more boyish now. “You’re, uh… funny. And kind of cute, when you’re not threatening to strangle me over toy trains.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“This—” you gestured dramatically between you both “—is the foundation of your flirting strategy? Chaos, insults, and shared custody of a train set?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he teased, grinning now.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I just spent an hour handcuffed to you while debating whether or not to throw you out a window, and now you want to… hang out?”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, like this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.

“Because this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “I barely know you, we’re still enemies by all accounts, and—”

“You haven’t said no,” he interrupted, cutting you off with a pointed look.

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Damn him and his stupid smirk.

Finally, you sighed, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity. “Fine. But if this turns into another wrestling match over a menu, I’m walking out.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Whatever you want.”

As you both walked out of the office areas and back to the mall, you muttered under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Believe it, sweetheart,” he said, falling into step beside you. “And next time? Maybe we’ll skip the handcuffs… unless you’re into that.”

You glared at him, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into an unwilling smile. Maybe chaos wasn’t such a bad foundation after all.

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room as Bucky groggily reached for the remote. Still half-asleep, he flicked on the TV, more out of habit than interest. The morning show’s upbeat jingle played, and he squinted at the screen, his brain catching up to the cheerful voices of the two hosts.

“—and now, for what might be the most hilarious Christmas shopping moment caught on camera!” the female host announced, barely suppressing her laughter.

Her co-host, a grinning man in a Santa tie, chimed in, “Oh, this is a good one. Forget Hallmark—this is real-life rom-com material, folks. Roll the clip!”

Bucky froze mid-stretch as the screen transitioned to shaky footage of himself and you, locked in a dramatic tug-of-war over the train set in the middle of the toy aisle. The commentary from the crowd was clear as day.

“Go lady! You’ve got this!”

“Ten bucks on the guy with the metal arm!”

“Oh, no,” Bucky muttered, sitting up straighter, dread pooling in his stomach.

The video jumped to the box tearing in half, scattering train pieces like confetti, followed by the baby wailing and someone shouting, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

The hosts erupted into laughter.

“Okay, okay,” the woman said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m calling it now—this is the meet-cute of the decade. I can hear the Hallmark writers typing this into a script.”

Her co-host nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Two strangers, both fighting for the same toy on the eve of Christmas eve—classic enemies-to-lovers setup.”

They both howled with laughter as the clip transitioned to grainy security footage of you and Bucky cuffed together, bickering like an old married couple.

“And this is where the movie writes itself,” the man said, pointing to the screen. “They’re forced to spend time together, cuffed in the security office. Sparks fly. Cue the heartwarming ending!”

The woman leaned toward the camera, her expression conspiratorial. “So, the real question is… did they exchange numbers? Did they get coffee? Did they—”

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hands as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, flipping it over to see a message from Sam:

Sam: Congratulations, you’re famous. 

A second message immediately followed:

Sam: Also, what happened next? Don’t leave me hanging! Did you at least get her number?

Bucky tossed his phone onto the bed with a groan, only for it to buzz again. This time it was Steve:

Steve: They’re right. This does sound like the start of a love story. Please tell me you didn’t blow it.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face as the TV hosts continued speculating.

“What do we think, folks?” the male host asked, gesturing dramatically. “Should we start a Twitter campaign to find out what happened next? I need closure!”

“Absolutely!” the female host replied. “If you’re watching this, toy train couple, please—reach out. America is invested.”

“I’m never leaving the house again.” Bucky groaned louder, sinking into the pillows. 

His phone buzzed again.

Sam: Famous AND trending. Look at you.

Bucky grabbed a pillow and smothered his face with it, his muffled voice barely audible: “I hate Christmas.”

He sighed and shifted, his pillow falling to the floor—he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, his irritation melted away as he looked to his right, where your figure was still peacefully curled under the covers. Your hair was a mess from the night before, your cheek pressed against the pillow in a way that made you look adorably innocent—though Bucky distinctly remembered you weren’t so innocent a few hours ago.

A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. He let out a breath, shaking his head as he muttered to himself, “Actually. . . Maybe I don’t hate it too much.”

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @Janonymus0 @veronicapaula

pretty sure i could romanticise anything, i am deeply delusional.

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