Bucky Barnes Series - Blog Posts

need

roommate! bucky barnes x reader

summary || Bucky gets horny while watching a movie.

warnings || handjob, crack fic — MINORS DNI

divider by @firefly-graphics

I don’t even know what this is lmaooo.

You stifled a yawn as you stretched your legs further into Bucky’s lap, it was a tradition now since your feet always got cold. Your eyes were drooping low, but you shook your head to stay awake. The TV was throwing colours over the overwise dark room and you were getting sleepy looking at the bright screen.

“That boring?” Bucky asked, turning away from the stupid horror movie he had chosen. “No. I’m just very tired.” You lied. You were sleepy, while watching a horror movie, and it wasn’t even halfway through. The movie was just downright terrible.

“Don’t lie. I know it’s awful. Kinda was a bad pick.” Bucky said dejectedly. “Uff, glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks this is pathetic.” Bucky was a little touchy when it came to the movies he selected, so you tended not to usually criticise them in front of him.

You were about to switch off the TV when suddenly the main characters started making out, in the middle of a haunted house. You wanted to roll your eyes, but the scenes were oddly arousing. The scenes progressed further until they were literally fucking in the dilapidated room.

You wiggled your feet a little in Bucky’s lap to get more comfortable, but then foot accidentally touched something hard and hot in his pants. You both stilled and left the TV to look straight into each other’s eyes.

A devilish idea crossed in your head and you pressed your foot down a little harder. He hissed through his teeth and yet didn’t stop you, so you decided to continue rubbing your foot over his tented pants. But then you purposely took your leg away to gauge his reaction.

“Don’t tease me doll.” His voice was raspy as he looked at you with lust blown eyes. You crawled further until you were right next to him. In the dim light of the TV playing the now forgotten movie, you could see his blue eyes sparkling.

Bucky was a gorgeous man and you’d be a fool to not want him. Bucky placed his hand on your chin and smashed your lips together in a passionate kiss. You trailed your hand down the hard planes of his body as you kissed him.

“Fuck.” He cursed when you slipped your hand into his pants and curled your hand around his hot length. You pressed tight circles on his slit with your thumb and spread the precum. He closed his eyes and leaned against the sofa once you started moving your hand along his length.

You had accidentally seen Bucky naked once, and you knew he was well endowed. But jerking him off was a whole another experience. Your eyes weren’t leaving Bucky’s face because he looked absolutely magnificent, his eyes closed and his plump lip trapped between his teeth as he relaxed.

“I’ve wanted this for so long… fuck!” He sighed as you twisted your hand around his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” You asked as you started moving your hand faster. “I… I thought you didn’t want… fuck, I’m going to cum!”

“No wait! Not on the couch please!” You cried out. You were about to take your hand away, but Bucky held you there. “Please god, don’t stop!” His hand guided your fist to go faster. “Bucky! You’re going to ruin the couch and the carpet.”

“No. Take…” he closed his eyes and you could feel that he was on the edge as his cock twitched in your hand. “Take the mug.. quick!” Following Bucky blindly, you took the first cup you could reach on the table. Bucky groaned loudly as he came and you collected his cum in the cup.

Bucky’s body sagged into the couch when he came down from the orgasmic high. You giggled like idiots about what just had happened before your eyes went back to the mug. “Oh my god Bucky! You just ruined my favourite coffee cup!” You screamed.

“I wouldn’t say ruined it…. umm, I just added some extra cream.” He said laughing at his own joke. “Ewww. Not funny.” You said making a face. Bucky pulled you back in his arms and held you there. Soon, you too started laughing on the absurdity of the whole situation. “Well, it was still better than the movie.”

#Welcome back The Winter Soldier (insp)

Make-Out Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Making out with Bucky is always an event to remember.

Warning: Uuh making out? Not really any I think?

Word Count: 810

A/N: Here’s the 2nd request for Miri’s 2k Celebration. Thank you to everyone who has submitted requests. I am working on them as first come first serve style. I hope to get two more out this weekend and work on rest throughout the week. This one came from @moodymcu​ Thank you for the requests sweetheart.

hi! i recently followed you and congrats on 2k! i was wondering if you could do a drabble about the STEAMIEST make out session with bucky or steve would be like?? congrats again! 💗  

Keep reading

nowhere for you to stay (bucky barnes x reader)

content warnings: angst, allusions to depression (bucky, not reader), sad bucky, mental health, lack of self-care, female reader, this is basically just me venting about the terrible ending that they gave steve (he didn’t deserve this and neither did bucky nor me)  word count: 1.5k a/n: so, i promise, i really am trying to finish my wips, but this came to me today while listening to renegade, also sorry for being m.i.a. for like three weeks but I spent easter with my family and had to recharge lol and then uni started again, so that kinda kicked my ass a little also, i watched thunderbolts* yesterday and it was great!!! (dw, this is spoiler-free)

You knocked on his door – three sharp, distinct sounds – and waited.  For a few seconds you entertained the thought that Bucky wasn’t home. That he was out and about, doing something with his life. Maybe he had picked himself up and gone to the gym, or maybe he had finally deleted the various food delivery apps and instead had gone grocery shopping. But there was a faint whirring, locked behind the old wooden door to his apartment, a sound that belonged to a light turned on. The complex in which Bucky resided was old – not as old as the man himself but certainly bordering on it. Windows creaked when the wind was strong, the lighting flickered, and pipes groaned during the coldest months.   He had moved here after returning from Wakanda and you had helped him set up his living space. You had begged and pleaded with him to rent a place closer to you, or to maybe even move in with you. But he had just shook his head and had looked at you with those heartbroken, empty eyes that seemed a little less blue and a little more grey since Steve was gone. So, you had helped carry the sparse amount of furniture and décor he had up to the fourth-floor apartment, had sorted spice containers of which you were sure that he hadn’t used them yet and had presented Bucky with a plant as a housewarming gift. He had smiled sadly and thanked you and you had known that the plant was not going to make it more than a week. Every day you called, every day he answered – for a limited time. Sometimes, the exchange was as short as thirty seconds, just enough for you to hear that he was still alive and not planning on changing that.  Once a week, on Saturdays, you took the subway to visit him, to stay with him for a few hours. You never managed to convince him to get out of the apartment with you but at least you saw him.  The last week had been different. He hadn’t answered your calls, only sent short messages (“I’m fine – can’t talk right now” or “let me call you back later”) and your heart ached every time the busy signal had echoed from your speaker. Of course, you hoped that it meant that he was actually busy, distracted, doing something.  But the faint buzz of a burning lamp in his apartment told you that he was home. No matter what, Bucky always made sure to turn off all lights and close all windows before he left his place, so he must have been ignoring the knocking.  To his credit, you were a day earlier than usual. It was Friday instead of Saturday, and you hadn’t announced yourself either, so he wasn’t expecting you. The silence, the unanswered calls had given you anxiety induced stomach pains, so you had taken the day off from work and had gotten an Uber to his place.

You knocked again and lightly cleared your throat – a chance for Bucky’s enhanced hearing to place you and for him to open the door. Still, the knob didn’t twist, the many locks he had put on additionally didn’t rattle and you could have sworn that the whirring of the lamp you had heard earlier died down. “Bucky,” you called out, “It’s me. Can you please open the door?” You waited. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by and your hands got clammy as you shifted on your feet. “Bucky, you gave me a key. But I don’t wanna use it, so, please just let me in. Bu-,” before you could finish his name, you heard a series of noises. A pair of feet shuffling over creaky old floorboards, and what sounded like dishes being set down in the sink. Then you heard a window being ripped open – the frame squeaked terribly – and then the footsteps came closer.  One lock was unlocked, then the second one. A metallic clank sounded and then the doorknob turned.  The door opened with a squeak that made your teeth hurt.  The apartment was dark, and despite the cold breeze that the recently opened window let in, it smelled dusty and faintly like old takeout food.  “Hey.” One thing about Bucky is that he just could not lose his charm. He stood before you, eyebags darker than ever, brown curls unkempt and knotted, and his scruff on his cheeks a little longer than usual and asymmetrical – as if he had laid on one side for too long. 

Despite his appearance, he leaned against the doorframe with a trace of his characteristic smile turning up his mouth corners.  “Hi,” you replied, slightly perplexed.  “I didn’t realise it was already Saturday,” he said after a few seconds of silence and attempted to swipe his hair from his forehead until he realised that it was too unbrushed to run his fingers through it.  He awkwardly dropped his hand but gave you another smile. “It’s not,” you answered and peered past him. Before you could properly glance into his apartment, he moved into your eyeline, a determined look in his eyes.  “Oh. Then what are you doing here?” He asked, shifting again when you tried to steal another glimpse into his living space. You took a few seconds before you replied during which you struggled not to be offended by his question.  “You never called me back,” you explained then, and locked eyes with him. Heat rose on his face as you bluntly called him out and his hands again found their way into his hair, and again, he had to drop them back to his sides as he couldn’t nervously run them through.  “Yeah, no, I meant to, but I… I was busy,” he stammered, blocking your third attempt to look past him.  “Okay,” you murmured slowly, “Can you… would you mind letting me in?” Bucky chewed on his lip for a few seconds, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find a way to let you down gently. “Uh, now’s not a good time.”

Your heart sank even further as you tried to come up with reasonings with his behaviour. “Are you-,” you began, and stared at your feet instead of meeting his eyes, “Is someone in there with you?” His eyes went round with surprise before he composed himself.  “What? No, no, I’m… I’m alone in here, but it’s just not, uh, a good time, like I said.” A little bit of the tightness in your chest loosened as he genuinely looked shocked at your implication. But you still couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let you in. “Are you leaving? Like, are you going somewhere?” You inquired then, trying to find a reason that would satisfy you. Bucky stayed quiet before he shook his head.  “No, nothing like that. Listen, doll, I just… I haven’t really prepared for visitors, or anything like that, so it’d be great if… um –,“ before he finished speaking, you could tell that he was having a hard time sending you back home. He knew how long the ride here was and that you usually worked on Fridays. “it’s just not a good time,” he concluded.

There was a faint line, so thin that it was barely visible, that you were threatening to cross right now. A line between what Bucky allowed you to see on the Saturdays when you visited him, and the rest of his life.  “Just let me in,” you whispered. “Let me… help you.” The conflict in his eyes played out like a storm. Vulnerability and stubbornness raged against each other, as he seemingly weighed his options: allowing you in or pushing you away. Both seemed to frighten him as you heard how his metal arm whirred while he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Alright,” he mumbled and slowly stepped back. His apartment was in a terrible state. For someone who had very little furnishings, a tiny amount of clothes and basically no personal belongings it should have been easy to basically produce a clinically clean space. Instead, you saw instant food packaging, empty beer cans and ripped paper shreds sprawled across his couch table. You recognised the paper as an article about Steve – honouring his legacy and paying tribute to his sacrifice. You had read the same one a few days ago and had cried until your head hurt. The sofa cushions were crumbled up and uneven. A thin blanket laid on the floor as if it had fallen off or been pushed off in a hurry. He must have slept there instead of in his bed.  The kitchen door was half closed, and through the gap you saw dishes towering dangerously, a towel haphazardly slung over them in an attempt to hide them. You turned to face Bucky, who refused to meet your eye. Instead, he clenched his jaw so tight that it must have hurt and stared out the opened window. “Bucky,” you whispered.  “Like I said, I didn’t know you were coming.” His tone was defensive and sharp, but his eyes glistened as the shame burned in him. “Bucky, look at me,” you pleaded and took a few steps towards him. “This place is a mess,” he croaked, his voice heavy with unshed tears, “There’s nowhere for you to stay.” “But I’ll stay anyway,” you murmured and rested your hand on his cheek. “I’ll stay and help you.”

Piece of art 💓🦇

unsolved masterlist

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse.

(Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, horror/paranormal elements

Disclaimer: no plot just vibes <3 it's just another banger dynamic that i loved and therefore had to write a garbage fic about. This is, in no way, a literary masterpiece so just be warned.

Here’s my Ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

THIS IS SO SWEET😭😭😭😭😭💓

Best Laid Plans

Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

When your plans for the town's Easter egg hunt go awry, you find help from an unlikely source...

This is for the lovely's @buck-star 's Easter Special ! Felt very inspired so started this earlier this afternoon and it just flowed! Way longer than planned lol sorry.

Character: Lee Bodecker

Trope: 🌷 Enemies to lovers

Prompt: 🐰 Easter egg hunt

Wordcount: Approx. 3.9k

No major warnings. I have also been deliberate vague about when this is set - so it's up to you! Hope you enjoy - as always I love hearing your thoughts ❤️

🐰

A satisfied grin spread across your face as you arranged the model chicks and bunnies, a sea of pastels brightening up the tired storefronts amongst the floral arrangements you’d already hung. Perfect. You smoothed down your polka dot sundress as you took in the scene. Just beyond the storefronts were the stalls for the fair later, selling everything from lemonade to chocolate, handmade crafts and freshly baked goods. A few of the vendors had started to set up, but there was still a nice amount of time before people would start to arrive. You’d given yourself a wide margin to prepare everything, hopefully you’ll have a little downtime to relax before the festivities began.

Your vision was finally all coming together. It was touch and go there for a while, especially with the well-meaning-but-pretty-useless Jake as your helper, but it was actually starting to pay off. It actually looked…good! Especially for a smalltown fair. You couldn’t wait to see the kids’ faces when they arrived later.

“Looks like the Easter bunny threw up out here,” someone chuckled from behind you.

Your smile dropped as you turned to face the culprit. But you already knew who that smooth voice belonged to.

Ugh. There he was. Again.

His uniform looked surprisingly crisp for him, stretched over his broad shoulders. He must’ve finally given the iron a try. Or maybe he’d convinced old Mrs O’Malley to help out a busy bachelor. You could still spy the curve of his stomach peeking out over his waistband from under the starchy white shirt. Not that it mattered, you normally liked a hefty man.

Just not this hefty man.

He stood there confidently surveying your handiwork, like a judge at a dog show. His sheriff badge caught a flicker of morning sunlight as his mouth pulled into a pensive sneer. He was normally quite handsome, not that you’d ever admit that. He had a gorgeous smile on the rare occasions you saw it, almost boyish in contrast to the severity of his short hair and tense jaw.

“Very funny, Sheriff Bodecker,” you replied in a deadpan tone. “Come up with that one all by yourself?”

He leaned on the roadblock barrier and chuckled. “Yeah. Spent all morning workin’ on it,” he grinned devilishly as he manoeuvred the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other, his eyes alight with mischief. Lee Bodecker had the most beautiful blue eyes, you’d noticed…

…Shame the man they belonged to was utterly insufferable.

“Glad my tax dollars are going to good use…” you sighed as you moved to collect the baskets for the egg hunt.

“Hey, you’re gettin’ free labour from my men and a whole street closed off for your little Easter party here, maybe save me the sass,” he scoffed. You didn’t like the patronising hand gesture he used to emphasis ‘little’.

You sighed incredulously, continuing to arrange the baskets, “it’s not my Easter party. And it’s a fair by the way. And it’s for the whole town. It’s about community, being together – whether you celebrate Easter or not. A little morale goes a long way…”

He rolled his eyes “Mm. Well the residents who lost their parking spaces to the roadblock this morning certainly didn’t have much morale when they came to bitch at the station about it…”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned to him again, one hand on your hip and the other clasping one of the little yellow baskets which you pointed at him accusatorily. You knew exactly who he was referring to. That same vocal minority had also come to PTA meetings, written angry letters to the school – and once even ambushed you at the market. They seemed unmoved that it was a joint effort from the school and the church to do something nice for the town. The way they reacted, anyone might think you were responsible for evicting them from their houses, not using their preferred parking spaces for a few hours. You’d already repeated the same arguments so many times that you could probably recite them in your sleep. You were simply sick of talking about it, which you quickly made clear to Lee.

“Listen here, Sheriff. I’m going to tell you what I told all of them. It’s one day. One. We gave them plenty of notice about it, explaining it was so the kids could do the Easter egg hunt without the fear of getting mowed down, and folks can set up their market stalls with plenty of space. God forbid they park in that lot a few streets over and walk the short distance to main street – they can all fit in there, we’re not exactly New York City levels of population here in Meade…And most of them walk to town anyway!! Besides, the district owns those spaces, not them – just because they park in them most days when they come to shoot the shit at the barbers doesn’t mean they’re theirs.”

A little sharper than you had anticipated, but it did the job. You exhaled, trying to calm yourself down as you felt yourself get riled up.

Lee smirked, cocking his head to the side as he studied you. “Wow. Is that how you talk to your students when they act up? Or is it just me that the local schoolteacher likes to put in his place?” his voice was low, almost a purr.

You didn’t like the strange flush that he somehow brought to your cheeks. You briefly felt off balance. You needed to shake that off.

“My students know how to behave,” you quipped. And just like that, the flush had gone. The familiar irritation had taken its place.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, a strange buzz between you that you couldn’t quite identify. You felt that with him sometimes. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was just anger.

His eyes were on you so intensely it seemed like they could tear a hole in your skin.

Then he just laughed. The irritation burned through you, down to your bones.

“Why are you even here? The roadblock is up, nothing starts officially for another couple of hours…” you shrugged. “Surely the Sheriff has better things to be doing than supervising me putting up toy bunnies…” you muttered.

“Wow…so much for community and morale,” he replied in a mock-outraged tone.

You didn’t know why you let him get to you so much. You didn’t know why he did get to you so much. It had always been this way with him, nothing but a sliding scale from feisty jibes to outright loathing.

You weren’t like this with anyone else. You were a schoolteacher, priding yourself on being approachable and kind – a figure in the community who was happy to be a listening ear, who took her responsibility for the town’s children and their education very seriously. You were heavily involved in the church, in the PTA, volunteered at the old folks’ home when you had time. This strange feud with the Sheriff was the one misshapen puzzle piece that didn’t fit with the rest of the picture. A fault by the manufacturer.

And it had been like this since day one, since you moved to town just over a year ago. You had been keen to meet the local Sheriff, hoping to ingratiate yourself with him and work together to benefit the community – but he’d shut you down almost immediately when you’d introduced yourself at a town meeting. He’d lazily looked you up and down in a way that could only be described as with contempt. Your smiled had faded as he introduced himself with disinterest, moving back to talk to his deputies like you were some chore he couldn’t wait to finish. You had no idea what you’d done wrong.

Since then, you had just never met eye to eye. Never been on the same wavelength. He just had a way of getting under your skin, of draining your patience in a way that even a rowdy group of six-year-olds couldn’t pull off. Although you generally aimed to always be the bigger person in life and rise above petty things, Sheriff Bodecker seemed to be the exception to that philosophy. Maybe his dismissal of you before he’d even properly spoken to you was what provoked such strong feeling, but you couldn’t explain the inevitable descent every time you met him.

You bickered every time you crossed paths. Arguing in line at the market, squabbling in the street, once there had even been (hushed) strong words at the back of church during a service.

You’d turned up to the station one afternoon to meet with Deputy Carter about arranging a school safety talk and the officers on the front desk had audibly sighed knowing what was going to happen. The whole town was aware of this rivalry, and just sort of took for granted that this was just how things were with the Sheriff and that schoolteacher.

…and yes. The officers were right. You and the Sheriff had managed to get each other’s backs up after a mere few minutes because you had laughed a little too loudly when his hat briefly slipped off his head. Business as usual.

You couldn’t really admit it to yourself. But maybe you also kinda enjoyed it. Just a tiny bit. Sometimes.

“Oh whatever…” you hissed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You didn’t have time for this, you can’t let Lee distract you when you have so much still to do. “Go. Stay. I don’t care either way. I need to hide the eggs and-”

You froze as you tugged at the trash bag containing the coloured eggs that you were going to hide for the hunt. It didn’t feel…right. The weight was off. It didn’t sit like a bag of small toy eggs.

You untied the bag and gasped when the contents were revealed.

Not eggs.

Not even close.

…a bag of trash.

You let out a pained moan as you fell to your knees, rifling through the bag in the weak hope that the eggs were at the bottom, and someone had put trash in the wrong bag by mistake. But no. Not a one there.

How could this-

And then it all fell into place at once. Jake, the enthusiastic but somewhat hapless school coach who had offered to help with the planning. Yesterday, after school you’d given him the eggs as you bagged up the classroom waste bin…he then offered to take it out for you as he was parked near the dumpster…so he must’ve mixed up…

Oh.

Oh God.

…And trash pick-up had been early this morning.

Those eggs were long gone.

Even if by some miracle you managed to somehow track them down, they’d most likely be crushed by the truck anyway – or all mixed in with the town’s other garbage. Covered in God knows what.

You stomach churned. You thought about the kids in your class, how excited they were about the hunt. They’d all been talking about it for weeks, all claiming they were going to win and find the most eggs – win the ‘mystery prize’ that the flyer tantalisingly offered (a brand-new bike, sponsored by one of the richer families in Brewer Heights. You had been so proud to source that).

How could you let them all down? See the disappointment on their little faces when they realised?

You couldn’t.

So, you switched into problem solving mode. As satisfying as it would be to tear Jake a new one for his mistake, that wouldn’t help the kids. Where could you get more eggs? You had already bought out almost the entire supply locally to ensure as many kids as possible could participate. You could drive to another town, but would you make it back in time? What if they were sold out too? This close to Easter…how many eggs were going to be left in stores exactly? Would they even be open? A lot of places had already closed up to spend time with their families. It was that way around these parts, these were mom and pop operations - not national chain stores. You could call ahead but-

“Well. That’s gonna be a weird egg hunt,” Lee interrupted your internal monologue as he toed at the now ripped open bag of trash. “I know the school budget has been cut, but damn…”

You closed your eyes. You’d been so caught up that you’d almost forgotten he was still here. “Just…not now, please,” you snap without looking up.

“Didn’t need to close the street just for you to hide garbage. Ain’t that just littering…?” he chuckles.

You look up at him, tears of frustration swimming in your eyes. “Coach Jensen must’ve switched the bags by accident,” you say softly.

Lee furrows his brows, his ever-present smirk shrinking as he takes you in. Maybe for the first time ever. His features soften as he starts to absorb that look on your face. The look that tells him this is serious. “That guy’s an ass…” he replies, his voice low.

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered. “God…The kids are so excited…”

“You can’t just call it off?”

“No!” you said incredulously. “This is all they’ve been talking about in class, all through school! I can’t just cancel it. I just need to figure out how to find more eggs before the hunt. There’s none left in our store but maybe I could drive to the next town over…”

He put his hands on his hips, his stance authoritative like he was doing a traffic stop, or talking to a perp. He checks his watch. “At this hour? You won’t make it back in time…”

“Thanks for your help Sheriff, as always,” you snarl.

He sighed defeatedly. “Could you just…hide something else for them to hunt? Matchsticks or something? I dunno…”

“It’s Easter! They were promised eggs!” you huff, “what kind of easter egg hunt would that be?”

You are unable to stop the few tears that break through the barrier and onto your cheek. You’re just so frustrated, so tired after staying up late to prepare all of this. And all your hard work is coming unravelled because of a few lousy eggs and a feckless man who doesn’t check garbage bags.

God, what a mess. Why do you even care so much? This is silly. Mistakes happen. The town will understand.

Right?

“Hey, hey,” Lee coos gently and takes a step closer to you, “don’t get upset…it’s just eggs…” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, it barely sounds like him at all.

You feel a wave of shame, mortification that he is bearing witness to this. The unfamiliarity of his tone is so unexpected, so jarring, that it adds to your embarrassment rather than soothes it. Why did he have to be here? Why him of all people? And what, he pities you now? More ammunition for his side in your little war – the silly, emotional teacher who cries over easter eggs. A chink in your armour, vulnerability for him to mock and dine out on for years to come…as if he didn’t already think you were a fool…

“It’s not just eggs,” you reply dully. Your eyes lock onto his. He simply doesn’t understand how important this is. How many children are counting on you. He doesn’t understand anything about you.

You turn away from him, taking a deep breath as you quickly wipe away your tears with your knuckles. You won’t let him have any more of you than you’ve already given. You shakily get to your feet.

“I’m gonna go around to a few parents’ houses and see what I can find,” you say out loud, more for you than for him. To anchor you, make you feel like you have a plan – however weak. “I should be able to rustle up some from their Easter decorations at least. I’ll be back to finish setting up”.

Lee stares at you. It seems like he has more to say, but he remains quiet. He clears his throat, nods. “Uh. Alright. Well, I’m going to go back to the station. Check on a few things. Good luck…with the eggs…it’ll work out.”

You nod, but don’t turn around as you leave him behind. You don’t believe him.

🐇.•*¨`*•.¸ 🐇.•*¨`*•. 🐇¸.•*¨`*•. 🐇

A little while later you make your way back to the fair. You feel so downtrodden that there could almost be rocks in your pockets, every movement takes effort and energy you no longer possess. You dread every step closer as you trudge heavily across town.

Despite a committed campaign, working your way across several neighbourhoods, you were only able to source a pathetic few eggs. Nowhere near enough to sustain a full-on egg hunt for all of the town’s children. Maybe even neighbouring towns if word got out. You check your watch; and you’re running late, too. You were going to have to explain to dozens of disappointed kids (and their angry parents) why their most anticipated Easter activity wasn’t happening. You practiced your speech in your head as you walked.

As you rounded the corner to the roadblock, you took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the worst. Your stomach swam with nausea, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You should’ve called Jake and made him do this. It was his fault after all.

You brace yourself for the crowd of confused children, when…

You can’t quite believe your eyes.

The kids are here, yes. But they’re running around, yellow baskets in their little hands as they shriek and holler, darting underneath doorsteps and plant pots to hunt. A small pile of coloured eggs sits in each of their baskets. Every single one of them is having a blast. Their parents watch on proudly, sharing their joy.

Are you going insane?

Some of them notice you and wave excitedly, calling your name and shouting over to you about how much fun it is. Their parents echo similar sentiments, and you just wave back gormlessly, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Is this some sort of hallucination?

“Phew. Told ya it would work out.”

You turn to the figure who has sidled up next to you, your eyes wide with surprise as Lee watches the joyful chaos unfold in front of you both.

“How…what…” you splutter.

“I remembered we did a similar thing a few years back,” he says casually without taking his eyes off the fun. “It was a police fundraiser around Easter time. One of my dim-witted deputies thought he ordered 100 eggs…turns out he ordered 100 cases…”

Your mouth falls agape as realisation slowly dawns.

“Shoved ‘em in the old outbuilding and forgot we had ‘em if I’m honest, ‘til this morning. Never thought we’d use them all, but here we are”. He laughs and rests his hands on his belt buckle.

“You…you did this?” you whisper, your throat tight with shock.

He shrugs, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Sure. Rounded up a bunch of the boys and we got ‘em all out. Not the most creative hiding places, you probably woulda done better – but the kiddos don’t seem to mind. Some of them are a bit dusty from storage – but again, kids are paying that no mind. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell no one. So, you’ll still get all the credit, you deserve it anyway – you put all the work in”.

Your eyes round as you stare at him. He stands there nonchalantly, like he didn’t just save the day. Didn’t just save you.

“You did that…for me?” you ask, bewildered.

“Sure. You needed help. That prick Jensen wasn’t gonna fix it, was he?”

“B..but. You don’t even like me?” you stammer weakly. Your brain simply can’t absorb any of this.

He finally turns, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. His blue eyes squint as his lip curls. “What? ‘Course I like ya”.

You feel like you’re going insane. “What?? We fight, all the time! You are always jabbing at me, making fun of me, riling me up…”

His face mirrors your own puzzlement but for a different reason, “yeah, but it’s just fun, isn’t it? Banter. I love fighting with you. It’s always a highlight of my day. You’re so…fun. Feisty. I love it. I never actually meant any harm…”

If you’d been sitting on a chair at that moment, you would’ve fallen out of it.

“WHAT?” you roar so loudly that some people turn around. You hush yourself immediately, trying to avoid a scene. “You were SO RUDE, the first time we met…it’s been hell ever since…”

He finally has the decency to look embarrassed as his eyes drop to the ground. “Oh, right. That. Yeah. That was shitty. I should’ve apologised…you just caught me off guard…”

“What do you mean?! All I did was say hello?” you sneer through gritted teeth.

“Yeah…and be gorgeous. Nobody told me the new teacher was a goddamn beauty. I panicked, couldn’t form words. You made me feel like a damn teenager with how nervous you made me”.

You just stare at him as you try and process what he’d just said, your mother would say you could catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that.

“Wait…You were rude because…you thought I was pretty?”

“Damn beautiful, actually. And I didn’t mean to be rude. Really. My brain just damn near stopped working”, he says bashfully.

“So, wait, this whole time you…”

You trail off as you suddenly reframe every interaction with him in your memory in a matter of seconds. The strange, unidentifiable buzz you felt with him sometimes. The way he got to you like nobody else. His smile widening every time he saw you, which you’d always assumed was just him getting ready to rile you up. How he would always gravitate to you if you were in the same place. The way he seemed to take so much pleasure in making fun of you, of talking with you…

…being with you?

“I should’ve just not been a coward and spoken to you properly, I’m sorry,” he sighs as he looks down at his feet. His voice more passive than you’d ever heard it. “Ask you on a date. Treat you nice, court you a little. I guess I never thought a pretty girl like you would go for a schlub like me, and I always had your attention when we argued – so why risk it?”

You look over at the giggling kids, the proud parents, the townspeople enjoying the stalls, sipping lemonade and laughing. You look back at him. You think of him hauling those old boxes from the station, getting his staff to help. Trying to find good hiding places for the eggs, wiping the dust from them. Greeting the kids and their parents as they arrived, giving them the little baskets. Doing it all for you without being asked, doing it for you because he wanted to.

Maybe he understood more about you than you realised.

He cautiously stands in front of you, you look deep into his cerulean eyes and before you know it, you’re kissing him. He wobbles slightly in surprise but corrects himself and finds his feet, kissing you back, his arms around your waist like they’d always been there. The rest of the world melts away and suddenly everything feels right. You don’t care that they can all see. You don’t care about anything else.

You break away and rest your forehead on his. You both laugh at the hooting and hollering from behind you, the cries of ‘about time!’ from his deputies. Apparently everyone could see it but you.

“Don’t I get a thank you? For fixing it?” he grins.

“Why? It’s just eggs,” you beam.

“…it’s not just eggs,” he chuckled as he moves to kiss you again.

THE END

The Time of the Prey

Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made. 

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, slow burn, previous trauma/daddy issues, mentions of death, torture, mentions/descriptions of injuries, specific warning will be listed in each chapter. 

A/N: each chapter will be posted at 10:00am every Saturday morning.

To be added to the TAGLIST please send an ask, it helps me keep track or everything. my TAGLIST LIMIT will be 30 BLOGS because after that it’s get very hard to format and make sure everyone is properly tagged.  (TAGLIST CLOSED)

I’ve worked hard on this one, hope you enjoy!

Series Playlist

Episode One

Episode Two

Episode Three

Episode Four 

Episode Five 

Episode Six

Episode Seven

Episode Eight

Episode Nine - october 22nd

Epilogue - 

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (Two) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

tuesday, march 13th, 1:06am;

The next morning you're eating breakfast at the kitchen table across from your mother. Just moments ago she had tossed a fat binder of old photos onto the wood, right next to your plate.

"I thought we'd have a laugh looking at these?" She said, and now as you flip through the frayed pages you find she was absolutely right.

There are polaroids of you as a toddler, long before your parents even thought about separating. A blue sand bucket is perched on your little head like a fashionable hat, and the sunset in the background casts gold reflections on the waves. In the following photo, you're swimming on a great big elephant raft, of course assisted by your Dad. In his younger age he is almost a completely different person, aged bleakly at the hands of the Island.

The marred cover of the book holds memories that you don't even remember, the figment of those toddler experiences a distant dream in the back of your mind.

You flip to the next page, revealing you and your big patterned book bag on her way to the first day of kindergarten. Your polka dotted sundress flows at your small calves and a lunch box hangs at your side. A big grin decorates your face and your eyes twinkle in excitement. Next to you stands a similarly posed little boy, with dark brown hair and those salient blue eyes.

"It's little Bucky!" You exclaim, pointing it out to your mom to confirm.

She hums, "Yes, I remember that. I took him with us for his first day because his mom was caught up in work on the mainland. You know, he really does help out a lot, and it's nice to have him around." She smiles sadly, "You know, despite this whole island being involved in everyone's personal lives I never really got to know his Mum. She passed while he was away in Afghanistan maybe four years ago. He was twenty-two, Rebecca was fifteen."

"What?" Your face screws up a little with the news, "That's awful. I didn't even know he joined the service before yesterday, and his mother died?"

"Yeah, after high school he enlisted and left for a while." She nods, "He doesn't talk about it though, so I wouldn't ask. He lost a lot those couple of years, to say the least."

"So it's just him and Rebecca all alone in that house then?" You ask, and you feel your heart cry out sympathetically at the thought.

When you were in middle school together, years before you had left the island, the siblings had lost their father in a freak boating accident. The poor man had been overworking himself and had drifted asleep on deck, out alone on his small fishing boat at dusk. Despite having been the most experienced fisherman on the island, he had crashed into the rocks and capsized, leaving the harbor patrol to find his body in the early hours of the morning after Mrs. Barnes called to ask about her husband.

The memory still felt fresh even for you.

For the first time in the many years of walking to school together, James hadn't met you at the end of your driveway that morning. When he didn't arrive late to school either, you had begun to worry. As soon as the bells dismissed your final class you had rushed out of the building to the Barnes' small cottage home just a few blocks away.

You remember the cop car sitting in the driveway and the front door ajar.

You remember the wailing of Mrs. Barnes as you crossed the threshold of the entrance and James sitting stiffly at the head of his dining room table, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. James never ever cried in front of anyone, but as he locked his gaze on yours that day you swear you felt the dam snap within him, and watched helplessly as the tears streamed from his eyes endlessly.

You remembered the day before this fateful event as well; when Bucky begged his father to take him along that night to check the lobster traps. And to know that the boy had now lost both of his parents hurts your heart in a way indescribable.

Your mother sighs sorrowfully, "Yeah, Rebecca was sent out to foster care in Portland for a while before Bucky came home from over seas and became her legal guardian. She must be around nineteen now?"

"God, I feel so horrible for not reaching out to him." You groan, "I don't even have a good excuse! I'm downright terrible. I can't believe no one told me she passed."

She shrugs at you, "You'll make it up to him. He's never been one to hold grudges, you know that. I assumed you knew, anyway, didn't realize you two hadn't been talking."

It's true. You remember plenty of trivial arguments on the playground, whether it be with you or another child. Bucky has always been loyal and fiercely protective of the people he cares about - protective of himself even - but he's also forgiving.

However, it's not being forgiven that you're worried about. Deep down you knows Bucky would forgive you for anything, that's just who he is.

No, what you're really afraid of is that the time apart has changed the two of you beyond recognition. You worry that despite you're best attempts, you won't be able to repair the damages your friendship took while you were growing up— while you were away. There's so much to say, so much to tell each other and you don't even know where to start. Are you even meant to pick up where you left off?

After all, you aren't kids anymore. That's the hardest pill to swallow. There won't be any more running off to the shore barefooted, bikes discarded in the dunes. Entwined fingers and soft touches are no longer innocent —maybe not even natural—and there will be no more folded notes passed silently during class. No more forts built in the woods with his mother's linen sheets and mossy branches.

It's practically uncharted territory, except the terrain never changed— it's just . . . different now.

Who knows, maybe Bucky doesn't even want that side of you anymore. Maybe you don't either.

~

After breakfast you goes up to your room to fish out some clothes and takes a quick shower to freshen up. You pull on a pair of worn jeans and an offensively purple rain jacket (cringing at your teenage self's outfit choices) before descending down and out to the barn.

The horses nicker at you instantaneously as you flip up the lock and slides open the thick barn door. Though there are eight stalls, the barn only holds four horses currently. There was a time when your mother made decent money training and selling working horses and holding riding lessons for the local kids, and back then there was never an empty stall. Now times have changed, the business has diminished and there's no longer the money for your mother to pour into her horses. She still teaches a few of the kids nearby, and it's just enough to support the existing horses but it's not the same.

You greet the horses one by one and unlock the door to the grain room at the end of the barn aisle. The black notebook sits upon a stack of vet paperwork and other various items, you flip it open and locate the page with the feeding schedule. The grain buckets sit in a neat stack against the wall, which you arrange on the floor and begin to scoop the correct amount of grain into each one, topping them off with the required supplements and powders.

Each bucket is labeled, a thick piece of silver duct tape attached to each bucket with the names scrawled in sharpie marker. You deliver each meal to the respective horse and tidy up the grain room while you waits for them to eat. After a few moments pass, you flip your hood over your head and halter each horse, leading them out one by one to the pastures for turn out just like you used to when you were young.

You must admit, you miss this part of home. You were always fond of the horses and it was one of the few ways you and your mother could bond together.

The rain patters on the rigid fabric of your rain jacket as you walk back into the barn from the paddocks. When that task is complete you focus on cleaning the stalls and starts to head inside when you're finished. There's a sort of strange gratification in mucking the stalls and cleaning everything up, the sweet smell of hay and musk of the horses surrounding you.

You pull open the door to leave the tack room after grabbing your water and shut it behind you, turning to lock it closed as well. As you spins around soundlessly, you're met with a solid wall striking you straight in the chest.

Or rather, not a wall, but a person you realize, looking up with a startled gasp.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't even hear you." You pull back, removing your hands from Bucky's strong chest where you had instinctively braced yourself. His right arm comes up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, a greeting smile creeping to his lips.

"No, no that's my bad, I snuck up on ya'. Your mom said you were in here."

He's wearing another baseball hat, this one a navy blue that went well with his eyes, and a thick gray sweatshirt under a Carhart jacket, both hoods are pulled over his head. His clothes are wet and you become suddenly aware of the surging rain outside and the thick grey clouds rolling into the horizon through the sky from the half opened barn door.

He towers over your figure almost comically, and you think you've never felt so small.

"Remember when I used to be able to look down at you." You blurt out. You immediately regret the sudden, random statement until Bucky begins to laugh, his eyes squinting and his faint crows feet imprinting on his face. You'd definitely caught him off guard.

"I was never that short." He huffs, "We were like the same height from age eight until like - I don't know, the summer you visited when we were sixteen?"

"Mmm, no, I was definitely taller," You retort, grinning broadly. Bucky begins to open his mouth to disagree, brows furrowed. "But don't worry, you're huge now. You could fight a black bear." you quip, relishing in teasing him just like you used to.

"I do not want to fight a black bear." He laughs, shaking his head with his eyes blown wide.

You huff a laugh, and spin to turn the light off in the aisle, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to drop off a few packages of fish for your mom, fresh caught yesterday evening after I left here. Whenever I work on the boats I get a share of whatever we catch so I split it with a few people on the island."

"Well, it seems like you do a lot around here. I'm sure everyone is grateful to have you." You respond. He looks away from you, a pink dusting on his cheeks, as if being thanked made him feel uncomfortable. "So what, do you do everything around the island? Fishing, working at the harbor, helping out with the horses. . . You sound busy."

"Yeah, I like it that way." He nods, "I work as a deck hand some days, I go out on the boats with Dad's old friends to fish and sell at the markets. I have my dad's sailboat now, like I said so sometimes I take it out myself on the nice days. I do all kinds of weird jobs around here, sometimes I work at the lumberyard too."

"You're like, the Island's handyman."

Bucky chuckles at that. "Yeah, guess so. But what about you, what were you up to all these years?"

"Oh," You weren't prepared for that question. You could talk about him forever but talking about yourself was a lot harder, "Well, you know, college. Graduated with an art education degree, got my own studio. I ran a small gallery and taught out of it, just spent my time painting and such. Made some good money and met a ton of awesome people." You sigh deeply, meeting Bucky's eyes, "My dad, he passed, and I think I was just ready to come home. It was great while it lasted though."

"I'm sorry about your dad. But why would you ever come back here? You of all people." Bucky tone is teasing, but you can't tell he's been begging to ask the question.

She thinks for a moment before answering with a shrug, "I guess it just felt right."

Bucky nods like he understands, "You see cool things out there?" he asks.

"Yeah." She sighs, "Wish I coulda' shown you. Maybe one day you can come back with me and I'll show you around." You smile, hopefully.

"I'd like that. And I'd love to see your art sometime, too. Can't even imagine how good you must be."

"It was . . . gratifying to say the least." The excitement of selling a piece of work and getting the praise you always wanted for the things you poured your heart into. It was exhilarating really, to be successful at something you love.

"You should open a gallery downtown, and host art nights. There's so many vacancies now I'm sure you'd get a good deal on a retail space." Bucky says.

"You know, that's actually not a bad idea." You agree, thoughtfully. "I don't know how well it would work out though given the population of the island is like . . . four." You laugh.

"Basically," He agrees, nodding. Bucky slips his hands in his pockets, nodding towards his truck at the end of the road. "I gotta get going, I have some errands to run before I pick Beccs up from work. I'll see you around right?"

"Absolutely." You nodd. As the two of you turn around and start to walk out the barn together, you stop, grabbing hold of the fabric of Bucky's jacket.

You don't know what came over you but suddenly, it just felt right to get it out right then and there.

"Hey," you start, looking down at your shoes and shifting your weight on one foot before looking back up to his face. "I'm really sorry, for not keeping in contact. You didn't deserve that." You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering.

"It's okay, doll. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for what I said before you left, it was unfair of me."

A lump almost forms in your throat as you think back to the last time you had visited as a teen. You have to swallow it back into your stomach where the energy flutters uncomfortably.

"It's okay. We were kids, right? Stupid kids, at that." You say gently, offering a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand on his arm, "Can we just agree to put it behind us?"

"I'd like that." He complies. "But I already have. We were stupid kids, we have all the time to make up for it now." Bucky smiles, hand squeezing gently on your shoulder, soothingly.

As you both step off the concrete platform of the barn's floor and onto the slick dirt path, the sludge of the sticky brown mud squelches under your boots. It's in an instant that the ground is being pulled out from under you like a carpet and you're sent crashing down into the mud with a comically loud splat, the air in your lungs being pushed out in a gasp.

"Shit! You good?" Bucky calls alarmingly. He's holding his hands out to help you up but before you can even comprehend your position he's falling in too.

He manages to catch himself on his hands and knees, unlike you who can feel the cold wetness creeping through the fabric of your jeans from your bottom all the way to the back of your thighs. You grimace, but neither can't help but laugh.

Bucky let's out a boyish laugh from the depths of his chest, "Careful, doll. It's slippery." He grins and for a second you really do feel like a kid again, the clumsy, giggly mess that you are.

You let your pained chuckle overtake you until you're just as loud as Bucky. Your tailbone aches and now your stomach does too as you curls in on yourself, shoulders heaving as you laugh together.

You're all smiles and pink blush as you pick each other up off the ground, the rain drenching your skin and clothes covered in thick mud now.

"God, I'm sorry. We look like idiots."

"We are idiots." You correct, "Come inside, there's gotta be something for you to change into. I'm sure you don't wanna run your errands looking like that. Or even get into your nice truck like that."

"You think my truck is nice?" He asks, eyes glimmering in child-like joy.

"Uh, who wouldn't?"

Bucky shrugs but follows you into the house anyway. You both discard your shoes on the front porch and you call to your mother to let her know you are coming in; mud, rain, and all.

You lead him upstairs and hand him a towel from the linens closet adjoining the bathroom and knock on your mother's bedroom door. She opens it confused, raising her eyebrow at the pair's appearance. Bucky waves a hand in greeting.

"Do you have men's clothes that might fit Bucky? Or a robe while we throw his clothes in the wash? We slipped in the mud."

Your mother laughs, disbelievingly, "You two are always a mess, you never change. Give me a second."

You two exchange fleeting glances, shoulders bumping one another in the narrow corridor that Bucky seems to dwarf with his size. Your mother returns with a pair of dark wash jeans, a small pin-prick of a hole down the seam in the side.

"These should do the trick, they're old as hell though. Let me know if you need anything else." She says sweetly, before retiring back to her room.

Bucky changes in the bathroom while you wait and then you switch out. An almost awkward goodbye is shared in the hallway, neither of you really wanting to depart.

Bucky goes back downstairs and out the front door, stopping to wave at you once more at the top of the landing before you hear the rumble of his truck and start the shower

written 5/17/23 rewritten 5/22/25

Through Sea Mist and Shadows — Bucky Barnes x Reader — Masterlist

after many years away, you return back to the small family farm that was once considered your home. nestled above the cliff-sides of a remote Maine island, sea mist cresting at its edges, you find that things are far different now. your family bears you sad smiles, the fisherman's boy is quiet and reserved, and you yourself have changed beyond your own recognition over the years.

a story about returning to your roots and finding yourself where you least expected it; in the arms of an old friend.

started: 5/2/23 rewrite: 5/22/25

status: ONGOING! IN THE PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN!

warnings: mature readers only! 18+, discussions of mental illness and emotional trauma, death of a loved-one, suggestive, no use of (Y/N), cursing but come on now, we're all adults, I do include vague descriptions and interactions with readers' parents for plot points

CHAPTERS

prologue

one

two

Bringing this baby back!! Just finished rewriting it!

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (One) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

monday, march 12th, 7:02am;

The blare of the ship's horn and the sickly distinct smell of the fishing docks is what clicks everything back into place.  Your head, which had previously been bobbing along to the music in your headphones, raises to attention as you observe your surroundings. There aren't many aboard the small ferry - deemed the Wayfarer, it's name written in faded cerulean paint along its side - and yet the quiet crowd shuffles slowly together towards the gangway to depart, seemingly in a rush. An older couple chatters amongst themselves, something about the Island's declining economy and you immediately tune it out, uninterested.

As you gather your belongings you begin to wonder what your mother will say when you wash up on her doorstep, the same mortifying 'what-if?' scenarios swirling around in your head that you've been thinking about since you first made the decision to move back home. You can't shake the anticipation of a fight, butting heads with your mother as you always had (hence the distance for the many, many years). And honestly, you can't blame her either. Your decision to move across the country with your father after the divorce cut her deep, and over and over again as you continued to keep your distance throughout your young adult-hood.

You sigh aloud, honestly, what were you thinking? Showing up unannounced with the intention to stay indefinitely, despite the fact that you hadn't properly spoken in years.

Change is hard. The divorce was hard. It was a long time coming, and you've never resented either of your parents for their parting, only the alienation, the fighting, the uncivil manner in which they handled their parting. Your mother had always been stubborn, and harsh, and she always knew what to say to hurt someone without the punch. She was a force to be reckoned with and she loved fiercely and protectively. You never hated your mother, you love her truly, but getting away from her when you were a teen was the only thing you naively wanted for yourself back then. So, when your father asked for custody and proposed moving out to the West Coast, you took it as your ticket out.

You've matured since then. You're still angry deep down, for the way things went, for the way both of your parents made you feel. For the decisions that were made for you under the guise that you were the one making the choice at only fourteen years old. You shouldn't have been making the choice between two parents, and they should never had made you feel like you had to pick one or the other.

But it was a double-edged sword, because on the other hand, the time you spent in California gave you your passion. Art. You picked up painting and you never put it down. The local artists in the city were lovely, and smart, and welcoming, and full of inspiration. You spent every weekend in local galleries and did all sorts of workshops and then even got accepted to college and majored in Fine Art Education. In the past three years you had opened your own gallery which you taught community classes out of and sold your own work. It was enough to support you and it was fulfilling. You had found your purpose. And you had found the best of friends. Your heart ached to leave them behind.

As much as you loved the home you had made for yourself, there was still something missing. Home-cooked meals, the smell of the earth and the cold ocean waves on your ankles, perhaps the hands of a lover or the embrace of your mother, your old mare and the prickle of hay in your clothes. With each fleeting moment you can't help but catch yourself thinking more and more of your home by the docks. The crunch of gravel roads under worn tires, and the incessant screeching of the gulls. Of course, you still spoke to your mother over the years, but the conversation lacked emotion, and trust. You talked about nothing and told her about recent projects. Asked how the horses were doing and bantered about trivial matters. Still, the calls were few and far between.

You hadn't told anyone you were coming home. After the incident you quietly ended your lease on your gallery space, found a young college student to take up your quaint apartment, sold your car, sold all your belongings, and bought a one way plane ticket to Maine all in a fortnight.

As you stand from your seat and make your way to the exit of the ferry you wonder if showing up unannounced was a bit too impulsive, after all.

Too late to worry about it now.

You thank the deck hand as you pass by, who tips his hat in response with a kind smile. With your two suitcases and side bag all packed to the brim with the rest of your belongings, you step off the platform and let the breeze take you. The dock is just how you left it, the weathered wooden boards creaking under your weight, rusted nails poking through every few steps. Inside of your ribs there's a bird, fluttering frantically against your heart with nerves. The nostalgia is almost too much to bear, hands sticky with sweat as you grip your cases.

You remember the way instinctively, you could do it blindfolded if you had to even after all the years passed. You pass the small downtown square, a common ground sitting pretty in the center of the old-timey buildings with windows thrown open and crooked signs. Everything looks exactly the same save for a few extra cracks in the cobblestone and a business or two no longer flourishing, the mossy roofing sloping downwards a bit in the center. You take a left at the old red post office and the out-of-order telephone booth (it hadn't been used in the past twenty years anyway) and a right at the second dirt path.

After the clearing, is home. The tall grass sways with the ocean breeze, the white fences surrounding the pastures chipped from the weather. The big eight stall barn sits at the top of the drive in all its glory, the sliding door pushed halfway open to reveal the aged wood and stacks of bales inside.

The house stands still proudly on the hill just behind the barn, a fresh coat of paint on the wrap around porch but the screens in the front window still ripped and threadbare. You make your way up the front steps before dropping all your belongings at a heap by the door.

Before you can raise you hand to knock the screen door is thrown open haphazardly.

The older woman's face is painted in an expression of bewilderment. "What on God's green Earth are you doing here?" She asks in a rush, gathering you up in her arms in a crushing hug. She smells of lemongrass and vanilla, the scent of the hand soap at the kitchen sink and her perfume mingling. It's distinctly home.

You chuckle nervously, "Surprise?" you say, hugging her back.

Your mother smiles happily, pulling back to take a good look at you while rubbing your shoulders lovingly. There's a twinge of worry lingering in her eyes and you take a deep breath to prepare yourself to explain and break the news.

"I'm sorry, I know I should've called first but I just . . . I didn't know how to tell you and I was afraid you would tell me not to come."

She nods, but there are more questions swimming in her irises, "I would never tell you not to come." she says stiffly.

You resist the urge to retort, eye twitching, you have before is what you really want to say. Instead you take a deep breath and practically feel the words come to fruition on the tip of your tongue and suddenly your eyes are welling up with tears instead and theres a tight ball in your throat.

Your mother senses your hesitation and gathers your bags in her hands and urges you inside with her free arm at your back.

You're standing in your old living room now and the walls and crashing in on you like the tides and you can't stop the flow of tears down your cheeks and you have half the sense to be mortified by your slew of emotions. You had planned on keeping it together, but there are old pictures still hanging on the walls and its the same sofa your mother has had your whole childhood and the carpet is still stained in that one corner from your late dog and it smells like home everywhere.

"Talk to me," your mother pleads, "Whats going on?"

"Dad's dead." You sob, "I didn't even know he was sick. He refused treatment and didn't tell anyone and he passed three weeks ago. He'd been sick for months apparently."

The older woman shakes her head sorrowfully, her own eyes growing watery as well, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. I know how close you were with your father." She says, rubbing your back soothingly. "The funeral?"

"It's passed. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She only nods her head, understanding albeit still clearly upset. She knows she wouldn't have been welcome anyway. She sighs and swipes the back of her hand across her cheek. "If you want to talk about it I'm happy to listen. But I know you prefer not to."

You nod, "Thanks, Mom."

"Let me get some sheets cleaned for you, I haven't touched your bedroom since you were last here. I'm sorry it's probably a mess, I can help you clean up later." She says, moving towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "How long will you be staying?"

"Oh," you bite your lip hard, sniffling, "I, um, I sold everything. I'm not going back to California." you wring your hands tight at your lap, nervous.

But your mother smiles happily, although she turns away in attempt to hide her joy in such a sorrowful moment. You catch it anyway. A twinge of worry still lingers in her eyes, pulling gently on her crow's feet. She nods without hesitation and offers to take one of your bags up.

You sigh shakily as you crash upon the plush corduroy sofa cushions and put your head in your hands. The worst of it was over, and it was easy. Perhaps preparing yourself for the worst scenario was the key.

"Do you need to eat? Anything at all?" Your mother shouts down from the staircase. You can hear her starting the washer, the metal door clanging loudly as it locks shut. You decline, though you know you should eat soon. The nerves haven't quite run off yet and you're not so sure you're ready to put anything in your stomach yet for fear of it coming right back up.

"Bucky is stopping by to drop off eggs and a load of grain for the horses in a bit, he'd be happy to see you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Bucky? New farmhand?"

You mother chuckles as she makes her way back downstairs, "Sorry, James. He goes by Bucky now, I didn't realize you hadn't kept in contact with him either."

Your head cocks to the side— James. You hadn't heard that name in a long time, not that you had forgotten— you could never. But you would've thought he'd have been long gone off this island and had never looked back.

"He helps out a lot, painted the porch for me earlier this week when we had a rare, sunny day. The boy's a saint, I couldn't do all this work around here without him and his sister. I don't think he ever really recovered from combat though."

"Combat?" You exclaim, since when did he join the military?

"Honestly," Your mother chides, "You've missed so much around here, you've got to catch up!" she says, but there's a lightness to it and you can't hep but crack a smile. "Go on upstairs, you can bring the rest of your things up. Just push whatever is in there out into the hallway we can put it in the attic when we get to it."

You nod, thanking her again before making your way up the creaky narrow stair well to your old bedroom.

The door to your room swings open with a creak, revealing old boxes and crates of miscellaneous items and old broken furniture that looks like it hasn't been used in decades. Your old books sit in a pile on the nightstand and haphazardly in the old painted bookshelf. There are glow stars still stuck to the ceiling and a few stray ones on the walls, accompanied with an array of old posters and stickers and photos pinned to the surface with clear thumbtacks. The baby blue curtains are faded from the sun as is the thick quilt spread out on the bed from the big bay window.

"I'm sorry it's a mess, things started to accumulate in here since the room wasn't being used. Maybe Bucky won't mind helping us move everything to the attic before he leaves. The sheets will be done before noon." Your mother says gently, shrugging.

You thank her and the older woman turns to leave, a gentle hand resting upon your wrist and a soft smile in her wake. "Come down for breakfast please? I won't make you talk about anything." She says softly over her shoulder. "Its just good to have you back."

You nod, you figure it's the last thing you could do thing for her at this point.

"I think it's good to be back, too." You reply.

~

You sit in the old wooden chair propped up next to your desk, surveying the room around you. You make a mental note to remove those monstrosities on the walls as soon as possible, maybe throw them up in the attic with the rest of the junk. If you're planning on staying for the foreseeable future, you'd like to not live in a literal time capsule from your childhood. An old mug of cheap paintbrushes and broken pencils sits on the corner of the desk, along with a torn up eraser and an old peppermint candy that has probably been there for at least six years. The bed still adorns an old quilt set with yellow flowers and green vines, stitched with a thick yarn at the seams where you had accidentally torn it on the old wooden bed frame. A glance at the empty vase on the windowsill and you find your mind wandering to a certain James Barnes, or 'Bucky' now you suppose. Boyish hands holding yours and fresh bouquets from his mother's garden. The vase has never been empty for so long, you think sadly.

You remember a time when things were simpler, spent side by side with your best friend no matter the location. The boy was always sweet, doting, thoughtful. You wonder how you could've possibly gone so long without hearing from him, hell, you would be lying if you said you hadn't at least thought about him (like, everyday). Your heart aches for him, even if just for the quiet moments between the two of you when you were both naive, and young, and it was the world against you both. You hope with a sad smile that he hadn't been too lonely.

Perhaps he had a girl now, maybe he too left for college, or maybe the military was his ticket out but you did wonder how that came to be. And why he had returned here after. Suddenly, you feel terribly guilty, selfish even. You left someone truly important to you behind and on such poor terms. You never even called, texted, tried to reach out. God, the stupid things you do when you're only a teen. You can only hope he'd forgive you now that you were both grown— and hopefully less stupid.

You try to picture what he would look like now, and if he would be as handsome as you'd imagined he'd grown up to be. You grin at the idea. Perhaps his dark hair would have grown out or he'd have it cut short in a military fashion. If his steel blue eyes had darkened as he aged or if his face would be littered with freckles from the sun. Had he grown into those gangly long limbs and that boyish frame?

With a sigh, you push yourself up and throw open the window, letting the fresh morning air pour into the bedroom as you begin the task at hand: sorting through all this junk.

It's nearly noon when you finish putting away your belongings, getting rid of the dust, and making the bed with fresh, new sheets and a pretty, pin-striped comforter. You'd even taken a few trips to the attic yourself with the things she didn't need. Your mother had brought breakfast to you when she had seen how caught up you had gotten in the mess. But, the room felt big and spacious compared to what it once was, despite recalling that you used to complain about having no space when you were young.

It felt good to have an almost fresh start yet in a place so familiar.

Lost in thought, the deep growl of a truck climbing up the driveway rustles you from your mind. You rise to the large window and peer out at the sage green vehicle. It has a lovely vintage charm to it, and its frame is well cared for a free of rust, the tires are worn but the rims are sparkling silver, glinting even in the overcast. New lumber sticks out of the bed of it, harnessed together with a thick rope tied in a sailors knot and besides it are three bags of feed and a milk crate of eggs wrapped in a linen cloth. You can hear your mother calling out from the porch below her and its with sudden clarity that the anxiety you had forgotten about comes reeling back to your chest.

James.

And suddenly you feels like a teen again, rushing to check your appearance in the mirror and then pushing your fly-aways back from your face with shaking hands. You don't know why it matters to you even after all the time you've been away, honestly, it's laughable. But you can't stop worrying. What if he has absolutely no desire to see him after what happened the last time you were in town? Or what if he's disappointed by how you look? Or he's married?

You're slightly horrified by the realization, and even more horrified that it matters to you. Get over yourself! You want to scream. Honestly, what if he's ugly now? You have no idea!

You dig your nails into the wood of your dresser before turning on your heels and shaking the thoughts from your head. You're bounding down the steps before you can think any harder about it and when you finally throw open the front door you're nearly knocked back as soon as you lay eyes on him.

The first thing you notice is how tall he's gotten, and broad. He's shutting the driver's side door and walking around his truck, rolling up the sleeves of his henley when he stops in his tracks, eyes locked onto yours in shock.

It feels like a million moments pass and you're sure that you're oogling him disrespectfully and you're sure he knows. His eyes are bluer than they've ever been but not in that shockingly icey, cold way, but in the way that the ocean swirls and mingles with the cliffs, in that deep, dark, beautiful blue of the sea at nightfall, and the dark blue of the sky just before the last of the golden sunset falls away to the night. His hair is long, falling in cascades of ink just above his shoulders, some pieces cut short to frame his chiseled face, the lightest speckling of facial hair growing at his jaw. He raises an arm to fasten the baseball cap on his head before flashing that award winning smile, just the way he always used to.

He looks strong, and grown, and gorgeous. Healthy. And it's everything you could've wished for him.

You actually don't notice the glint of black metal at his left arm, not until you watch him deliberately hike his sleeves back down and cover it just as soon as you saw it. It's casual, but you do notice.

"Hi, James." You greet once he finally reaches within distance, your voice breathy and you almost shy away at how desperate it must've sounded. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, the fabric wrinkled and faded at the knees from wear.

He gazes at you curiously, those damned blue eyes glinting.

"It's Bucky now," your mother scoffs teasingly, "I already told her, you know she never listens!" she says to Bucky, laughing.

"No, thats okay, I'll allow it." He says, cheekily, "Hey, doll."

Doll. That was new. A wonderful and enticing new that lingered a little bit too long in your mind— seriously, had you been reduced to mush from a simple smile and a set of lovely blue eyes? Yes

"Right! I'm sorry, I forgot. It'll take some getting used to, I guess." You reply apologetically.

Your mother pulls open the screen door, "Let me grab that cash for you, Bucky. I'll be right back." she says, and when she's disappeared within the house he turns to you again.

"It's okay, I don't mind the way it sounds when you say it." He grins again, "'James' I mean."

You smile back shyly, unsure what to say back, but honored honestly.

"Anyway, you've been well?" He asks, stepping up to the edge of the porch and leaning against the railing.

"Yes," You nod, "yeah. I've been - well a lot has happened, I can't believe it's been so long since I've spoken to you. There's so much to tell you." You say.

"Yeah? I can't wait to hear all about it." He's so sickly sweet. He should be angry with you, anything but this.

"Well, what about you, how have you been? You look - well, you look good." You say, fighting back the blush you can only imagine with great disdain is creeping onto her face. "This is new", you point to the mechanical hand sticking out of his sleeve. You hope it's not too sore of a subject.

"It's been good." He answers quickly, "Missed having you around, for sure." He raises his metal arm sheepishly, "And this . . . this is just a little work-in-progress. A friend and I are working on furthering prosthetics in our free time. She's a goddamn genius, you wouldn't believe it."

You guess that he must have lost his arm in combat, and you're sure it probably is a sore subject, so you don't ask anything more. But you do marvel in the engineering of the device— well, what you can see of it.

Your mom comes back out with an envelope of money and hands it to Bucky, who thanks her generously, telling her it really isn't necessary.

"Oh, and those boxes too, do you want him to help you bring them up to the attic?" She asks, turning towards you.

You shake your head, he's clearly done plenty around here in the time you were gone, "I can handle it, it's okay. I don't want to bother you with it."

Bucky smirks, raising an eyebrow, "I'll head up there now, I got it." and he's already ascending up the front steps.

"Hey! No really, you do enough, I can take care of it!" You're calling after him but he's already bounding up the steps two at a time like its his own home, and you suppose, it really is. Some things never change.

"Thank you!" Your mother calls out to him, before turning to the barn and making her way up the gravel path, making it your problem.

You're chasing after him with a wide smile but he's already grabbing boxes and on his way to the attic before you can stop him, so you grab a box of your own and figure next best is to do it together.

It does go faster that way and you both fall into rhythm quicker than you had expected. That awkward tension leaves your body and you're left with a comfortable, pleasant hum of energy.

"Will I catch you later?" He's asking, tilting his head to your level.

"Yeah, I'll be here."

"I have my dad's boat now. We could take it out together while you're home? Catch up."

You smile again, and you can't think back to a time where you've smiled so much for such a silly, simple little reason. "I would love that, James."

~

Bucky heads back outside soon after to drop off the rest of the things he had for your mother and promises to say goodbye before he leaves.

You decide to pad over to the barn where you mother is, to see what she's up to before you tackle another project.

You make it barely a step into the old wooden building before she's cornering you.

"You're still in love with him." She states.

Your jaw drops incredulously, "I'm not in love with him! He's my childhood best friend." you counter, bewildered. "We haven't even talked in like, six years!"

"Right. He just happens to be entirely gorgeous now, that's all." Your eyes widen impossibly more and you have to bite your lip not to laugh aloud at your mother's brazen accusations.

"Shh! He's still here you know!"

"Did they not have any good looking boys in California?"

"They had plenty, thank you very much. Now leave it be." You're trying to hide it but you are smiling. Your mother knows you want her to can it, and so for once, she does, but theres a silent promise in her eyes that she will bring it up again.

You're glad she had stopped talking about it when she had, Bucky ducks his head into the barn just after and waves, bidding goodbye and saying thank you again to your mother, which she only deflects with her own thanks.

And then he's gone, the scent of pine wood and cinnamon left lingering in his tracks.

written 5/3/23 rewritten 5/22/25

I randomly started thinking about this fic again after like at least two years and I'm re-obsessed and couldn't find it in my reposts so I'm re blogging it again :)))))))

Just One Kiss Masterlist

(photos not mine, storyboard very much mine)

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (40′s happy ending AU)

Series Warnings: Language, excessive amount of fluff, slow burn, mutual pining

Part One - The Beginning

Part Two - A Walk Home

Part Three - Moving Day

Part Four - A Dance

Part Five - Girls’ Night

Part Six - The Fight

Part Seven - Christmas

Part Eight - The Question

Part Nine - First Date

Part Ten - Afternoon in the Park

Part Eleven - Last Date

Part Twelve - The Goodbye

Part Thirteen - The First Letters

Part Fourteen - Broken Silence

Part Fifteen - Finale

Epilogue Pieces

Bonus Material Masterlist

i read this a while ago and was literally obsessed like, we're talking could NOT stop thinking about it and then today i was looking for it again and i realized i never fucking reblogged it?????

anyway this is everything i needed and infinitely more thanks for coming to my ted talk

Undisclosed - Masterlist

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either. 

Warnings: Beefy!bucky, angst, references to death/crime, injury, toxicity, eventual smut (minors dni, marked **), a bit of slow burn!!  

a/n: This series is now complete 🤍

Series playlist ⍋

❆ Chapter One 

❆ Chapter Two 

❆ Chapter Three 

❆ Chapter Four 

❆ Chapter Five

❆ Chapter Six**

❆ Chapter Seven

❆ Chapter Eight 

❆ Chapter Nine 

❆ Chapter Ten

❆ Epilogue

Series art!!

🤍 Bucky

🤍 Bucky and Alpine 

🤍Scenery 

🤍 Bucky at the diner

Extra content!!

Reader gets sick (drabble)

Spring in Stowe Mills (oneshot)

The bear attack (drabble)

Come Home (oneshot)

favorites 🥰

Just One Kiss Masterlist

(photos not mine, storyboard very much mine)

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (40′s happy ending AU)

Series Warnings: Language, excessive amount of fluff, slow burn, mutual pining

Part One - The Beginning

Part Two - A Walk Home

Part Three - Moving Day

Part Four - A Dance

Part Five - Girls’ Night

Part Six - The Fight

Part Seven - Christmas

Part Eight - The Question

Part Nine - First Date

Part Ten - Afternoon in the Park

Part Eleven - Last Date

Part Twelve - The Goodbye

Part Thirteen - The First Letters

Part Fourteen - Broken Silence

Part Fifteen - Finale

Epilogue Pieces

Bonus Material Masterlist

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (Two) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

tuesday, march 13th, 1:06am;

The next morning you're eating breakfast at the kitchen table across from your mother. Just moments ago she had tossed a fat binder of old photos onto the wood, right next to your plate.

"I thought we'd have a laugh looking at these?" She said, and now as you flip through the frayed pages you find she was absolutely right.

There are polaroids of you as a toddler, long before your parents even thought about separating. A blue sand bucket is perched on your little head like a fashionable hat, and the sunset in the background casts gold reflections on the waves. In the following photo, you're swimming on a great big elephant raft, of course assisted by your Dad. In his younger age he is almost a completely different person, aged bleakly at the hands of the Island.

The marred cover of the book holds memories that you don't even remember, the figment of those toddler experiences a distant dream in the back of your mind.

You flip to the next page, revealing you and your big patterned book bag on her way to the first day of kindergarten. Your polka dotted sundress flows at your small calves and a lunch box hangs at your side. A big grin decorates your face and your eyes twinkle in excitement. Next to you stands a similarly posed little boy, with dark brown hair and those salient blue eyes.

"It's little Bucky!" You exclaim, pointing it out to your mom to confirm.

She hums, "Yes, I remember that. I took him with us for his first day because his mom was caught up in work on the mainland. You know, he really does help out a lot, and it's nice to have him around." She smiles sadly, "You know, despite this whole island being involved in everyone's personal lives I never really got to know his Mum. She passed while he was away in Afghanistan maybe four years ago. He was twenty-two, Rebecca was fifteen."

"What?" Your face screws up a little with the news, "That's awful. I didn't even know he joined the service before yesterday, and his mother died?"

"Yeah, after high school he enlisted and left for a while." She nods, "He doesn't talk about it though, so I wouldn't ask. He lost a lot those couple of years, to say the least."

"So it's just him and Rebecca all alone in that house then?" You ask, and you feel your heart cry out sympathetically at the thought.

When you were in middle school together, years before you had left the island, the siblings had lost their father in a freak boating accident. The poor man had been overworking himself and had drifted asleep on deck, out alone on his small fishing boat at dusk. Despite having been the most experienced fisherman on the island, he had crashed into the rocks and capsized, leaving the harbor patrol to find his body in the early hours of the morning after Mrs. Barnes called to ask about her husband.

The memory still felt fresh even for you.

For the first time in the many years of walking to school together, James hadn't met you at the end of your driveway that morning. When he didn't arrive late to school either, you had begun to worry. As soon as the bells dismissed your final class you had rushed out of the building to the Barnes' small cottage home just a few blocks away.

You remember the cop car sitting in the driveway and the front door ajar.

You remember the wailing of Mrs. Barnes as you crossed the threshold of the entrance and James sitting stiffly at the head of his dining room table, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. James never ever cried in front of anyone, but as he locked his gaze on yours that day you swear you felt the dam snap within him, and watched helplessly as the tears streamed from his eyes endlessly.

You remembered the day before this fateful event as well; when Bucky begged his father to take him along that night to check the lobster traps. And to know that the boy had now lost both of his parents hurts your heart in a way indescribable.

Your mother sighs sorrowfully, "Yeah, Rebecca was sent out to foster care in Portland for a while before Bucky came home from over seas and became her legal guardian. She must be around nineteen now?"

"God, I feel so horrible for not reaching out to him." You groan, "I don't even have a good excuse! I'm downright terrible. I can't believe no one told me she passed."

She shrugs at you, "You'll make it up to him. He's never been one to hold grudges, you know that. I assumed you knew, anyway, didn't realize you two hadn't been talking."

It's true. You remember plenty of trivial arguments on the playground, whether it be with you or another child. Bucky has always been loyal and fiercely protective of the people he cares about - protective of himself even - but he's also forgiving.

However, it's not being forgiven that you're worried about. Deep down you knows Bucky would forgive you for anything, that's just who he is.

No, what you're really afraid of is that the time apart has changed the two of you beyond recognition. You worry that despite you're best attempts, you won't be able to repair the damages your friendship took while you were growing up— while you were away. There's so much to say, so much to tell each other and you don't even know where to start. Are you even meant to pick up where you left off?

After all, you aren't kids anymore. That's the hardest pill to swallow. There won't be any more running off to the shore barefooted, bikes discarded in the dunes. Entwined fingers and soft touches are no longer innocent —maybe not even natural—and there will be no more folded notes passed silently during class. No more forts built in the woods with his mother's linen sheets and mossy branches.

It's practically uncharted territory, except the terrain never changed— it's just . . . different now.

Who knows, maybe Bucky doesn't even want that side of you anymore. Maybe you don't either.

~

After breakfast you goes up to your room to fish out some clothes and takes a quick shower to freshen up. You pull on a pair of worn jeans and an offensively purple rain jacket (cringing at your teenage self's outfit choices) before descending down and out to the barn.

The horses nicker at you instantaneously as you flip up the lock and slides open the thick barn door. Though there are eight stalls, the barn only holds four horses currently. There was a time when your mother made decent money training and selling working horses and holding riding lessons for the local kids, and back then there was never an empty stall. Now times have changed, the business has diminished and there's no longer the money for your mother to pour into her horses. She still teaches a few of the kids nearby, and it's just enough to support the existing horses but it's not the same.

You greet the horses one by one and unlock the door to the grain room at the end of the barn aisle. The black notebook sits upon a stack of vet paperwork and other various items, you flip it open and locate the page with the feeding schedule. The grain buckets sit in a neat stack against the wall, which you arrange on the floor and begin to scoop the correct amount of grain into each one, topping them off with the required supplements and powders.

Each bucket is labeled, a thick piece of silver duct tape attached to each bucket with the names scrawled in sharpie marker. You deliver each meal to the respective horse and tidy up the grain room while you waits for them to eat. After a few moments pass, you flip your hood over your head and halter each horse, leading them out one by one to the pastures for turn out just like you used to when you were young.

You must admit, you miss this part of home. You were always fond of the horses and it was one of the few ways you and your mother could bond together.

The rain patters on the rigid fabric of your rain jacket as you walk back into the barn from the paddocks. When that task is complete you focus on cleaning the stalls and starts to head inside when you're finished. There's a sort of strange gratification in mucking the stalls and cleaning everything up, the sweet smell of hay and musk of the horses surrounding you.

You pull open the door to leave the tack room after grabbing your water and shut it behind you, turning to lock it closed as well. As you spins around soundlessly, you're met with a solid wall striking you straight in the chest.

Or rather, not a wall, but a person you realize, looking up with a startled gasp.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't even hear you." You pull back, removing your hands from Bucky's strong chest where you had instinctively braced yourself. His right arm comes up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, a greeting smile creeping to his lips.

"No, no that's my bad, I snuck up on ya'. Your mom said you were in here."

He's wearing another baseball hat, this one a navy blue that went well with his eyes, and a thick gray sweatshirt under a Carhart jacket, both hoods are pulled over his head. His clothes are wet and you become suddenly aware of the surging rain outside and the thick grey clouds rolling into the horizon through the sky from the half opened barn door.

He towers over your figure almost comically, and you think you've never felt so small.

"Remember when I used to be able to look down at you." You blurt out. You immediately regret the sudden, random statement until Bucky begins to laugh, his eyes squinting and his faint crows feet imprinting on his face. You'd definitely caught him off guard.

"I was never that short." He huffs, "We were like the same height from age eight until like - I don't know, the summer you visited when we were sixteen?"

"Mmm, no, I was definitely taller," You retort, grinning broadly. Bucky begins to open his mouth to disagree, brows furrowed. "But don't worry, you're huge now. You could fight a black bear." you quip, relishing in teasing him just like you used to.

"I do not want to fight a black bear." He laughs, shaking his head with his eyes blown wide.

You huff a laugh, and spin to turn the light off in the aisle, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to drop off a few packages of fish for your mom, fresh caught yesterday evening after I left here. Whenever I work on the boats I get a share of whatever we catch so I split it with a few people on the island."

"Well, it seems like you do a lot around here. I'm sure everyone is grateful to have you." You respond. He looks away from you, a pink dusting on his cheeks, as if being thanked made him feel uncomfortable. "So what, do you do everything around the island? Fishing, working at the harbor, helping out with the horses. . . You sound busy."

"Yeah, I like it that way." He nods, "I work as a deck hand some days, I go out on the boats with Dad's old friends to fish and sell at the markets. I have my dad's sailboat now, like I said so sometimes I take it out myself on the nice days. I do all kinds of weird jobs around here, sometimes I work at the lumberyard too."

"You're like, the Island's handyman."

Bucky chuckles at that. "Yeah, guess so. But what about you, what were you up to all these years?"

"Oh," You weren't prepared for that question. You could talk about him forever but talking about yourself was a lot harder, "Well, you know, college. Graduated with an art education degree, got my own studio. I ran a small gallery and taught out of it, just spent my time painting and such. Made some good money and met a ton of awesome people." You sigh deeply, meeting Bucky's eyes, "My dad, he passed, and I think I was just ready to come home. It was great while it lasted though."

"I'm sorry about your dad. But why would you ever come back here? You of all people." Bucky tone is teasing, but you can't tell he's been begging to ask the question.

She thinks for a moment before answering with a shrug, "I guess it just felt right."

Bucky nods like he understands, "You see cool things out there?" he asks.

"Yeah." She sighs, "Wish I coulda' shown you. Maybe one day you can come back with me and I'll show you around." You smile, hopefully.

"I'd like that. And I'd love to see your art sometime, too. Can't even imagine how good you must be."

"It was . . . gratifying to say the least." The excitement of selling a piece of work and getting the praise you always wanted for the things you poured your heart into. It was exhilarating really, to be successful at something you love.

"You should open a gallery downtown, and host art nights. There's so many vacancies now I'm sure you'd get a good deal on a retail space." Bucky says.

"You know, that's actually not a bad idea." You agree, thoughtfully. "I don't know how well it would work out though given the population of the island is like . . . four." You laugh.

"Basically," He agrees, nodding. Bucky slips his hands in his pockets, nodding towards his truck at the end of the road. "I gotta get going, I have some errands to run before I pick Beccs up from work. I'll see you around right?"

"Absolutely." You nodd. As the two of you turn around and start to walk out the barn together, you stop, grabbing hold of the fabric of Bucky's jacket.

You don't know what came over you but suddenly, it just felt right to get it out right then and there.

"Hey," you start, looking down at your shoes and shifting your weight on one foot before looking back up to his face. "I'm really sorry, for not keeping in contact. You didn't deserve that." You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering.

"It's okay, doll. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for what I said before you left, it was unfair of me."

A lump almost forms in your throat as you think back to the last time you had visited as a teen. You have to swallow it back into your stomach where the energy flutters uncomfortably.

"It's okay. We were kids, right? Stupid kids, at that." You say gently, offering a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand on his arm, "Can we just agree to put it behind us?"

"I'd like that." He complies. "But I already have. We were stupid kids, we have all the time to make up for it now." Bucky smiles, hand squeezing gently on your shoulder, soothingly.

As you both step off the concrete platform of the barn's floor and onto the slick dirt path, the sludge of the sticky brown mud squelches under your boots. It's in an instant that the ground is being pulled out from under you like a carpet and you're sent crashing down into the mud with a comically loud splat, the air in your lungs being pushed out in a gasp.

"Shit! You good?" Bucky calls alarmingly. He's holding his hands out to help you up but before you can even comprehend your position he's falling in too.

He manages to catch himself on his hands and knees, unlike you who can feel the cold wetness creeping through the fabric of your jeans from your bottom all the way to the back of your thighs. You grimace, but neither can't help but laugh.

Bucky let's out a boyish laugh from the depths of his chest, "Careful, doll. It's slippery." He grins and for a second you really do feel like a kid again, the clumsy, giggly mess that you are.

You let your pained chuckle overtake you until you're just as loud as Bucky. Your tailbone aches and now your stomach does too as you curls in on yourself, shoulders heaving as you laugh together.

You're all smiles and pink blush as you pick each other up off the ground, the rain drenching your skin and clothes covered in thick mud now.

"God, I'm sorry. We look like idiots."

"We are idiots." You correct, "Come inside, there's gotta be something for you to change into. I'm sure you don't wanna run your errands looking like that. Or even get into your nice truck like that."

"You think my truck is nice?" He asks, eyes glimmering in child-like joy.

"Uh, who wouldn't?"

Bucky shrugs but follows you into the house anyway. You both discard your shoes on the front porch and you call to your mother to let her know you are coming in; mud, rain, and all.

You lead him upstairs and hand him a towel from the linens closet adjoining the bathroom and knock on your mother's bedroom door. She opens it confused, raising her eyebrow at the pair's appearance. Bucky waves a hand in greeting.

"Do you have men's clothes that might fit Bucky? Or a robe while we throw his clothes in the wash? We slipped in the mud."

Your mother laughs, disbelievingly, "You two are always a mess, you never change. Give me a second."

You two exchange fleeting glances, shoulders bumping one another in the narrow corridor that Bucky seems to dwarf with his size. Your mother returns with a pair of dark wash jeans, a small pin-prick of a hole down the seam in the side.

"These should do the trick, they're old as hell though. Let me know if you need anything else." She says sweetly, before retiring back to her room.

Bucky changes in the bathroom while you wait and then you switch out. An almost awkward goodbye is shared in the hallway, neither of you really wanting to depart.

Bucky goes back downstairs and out the front door, stopping to wave at you once more at the top of the landing before you hear the rumble of his truck and start the shower

written 5/17/23 rewritten 5/22/25

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (One) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

monday, march 12th, 7:02am;

The blare of the ship's horn and the sickly distinct smell of the fishing docks is what clicks everything back into place.  Your head, which had previously been bobbing along to the music in your headphones, raises to attention as you observe your surroundings. There aren't many aboard the small ferry - deemed the Wayfarer, it's name written in faded cerulean paint along its side - and yet the quiet crowd shuffles slowly together towards the gangway to depart, seemingly in a rush. An older couple chatters amongst themselves, something about the Island's declining economy and you immediately tune it out, uninterested.

As you gather your belongings you begin to wonder what your mother will say when you wash up on her doorstep, the same mortifying 'what-if?' scenarios swirling around in your head that you've been thinking about since you first made the decision to move back home. You can't shake the anticipation of a fight, butting heads with your mother as you always had (hence the distance for the many, many years). And honestly, you can't blame her either. Your decision to move across the country with your father after the divorce cut her deep, and over and over again as you continued to keep your distance throughout your young adult-hood.

You sigh aloud, honestly, what were you thinking? Showing up unannounced with the intention to stay indefinitely, despite the fact that you hadn't properly spoken in years.

Change is hard. The divorce was hard. It was a long time coming, and you've never resented either of your parents for their parting, only the alienation, the fighting, the uncivil manner in which they handled their parting. Your mother had always been stubborn, and harsh, and she always knew what to say to hurt someone without the punch. She was a force to be reckoned with and she loved fiercely and protectively. You never hated your mother, you love her truly, but getting away from her when you were a teen was the only thing you naively wanted for yourself back then. So, when your father asked for custody and proposed moving out to the West Coast, you took it as your ticket out.

You've matured since then. You're still angry deep down, for the way things went, for the way both of your parents made you feel. For the decisions that were made for you under the guise that you were the one making the choice at only fourteen years old. You shouldn't have been making the choice between two parents, and they should never had made you feel like you had to pick one or the other.

But it was a double-edged sword, because on the other hand, the time you spent in California gave you your passion. Art. You picked up painting and you never put it down. The local artists in the city were lovely, and smart, and welcoming, and full of inspiration. You spent every weekend in local galleries and did all sorts of workshops and then even got accepted to college and majored in Fine Art Education. In the past three years you had opened your own gallery which you taught community classes out of and sold your own work. It was enough to support you and it was fulfilling. You had found your purpose. And you had found the best of friends. Your heart ached to leave them behind.

As much as you loved the home you had made for yourself, there was still something missing. Home-cooked meals, the smell of the earth and the cold ocean waves on your ankles, perhaps the hands of a lover or the embrace of your mother, your old mare and the prickle of hay in your clothes. With each fleeting moment you can't help but catch yourself thinking more and more of your home by the docks. The crunch of gravel roads under worn tires, and the incessant screeching of the gulls. Of course, you still spoke to your mother over the years, but the conversation lacked emotion, and trust. You talked about nothing and told her about recent projects. Asked how the horses were doing and bantered about trivial matters. Still, the calls were few and far between.

You hadn't told anyone you were coming home. After the incident you quietly ended your lease on your gallery space, found a young college student to take up your quaint apartment, sold your car, sold all your belongings, and bought a one way plane ticket to Maine all in a fortnight.

As you stand from your seat and make your way to the exit of the ferry you wonder if showing up unannounced was a bit too impulsive, after all.

Too late to worry about it now.

You thank the deck hand as you pass by, who tips his hat in response with a kind smile. With your two suitcases and side bag all packed to the brim with the rest of your belongings, you step off the platform and let the breeze take you. The dock is just how you left it, the weathered wooden boards creaking under your weight, rusted nails poking through every few steps. Inside of your ribs there's a bird, fluttering frantically against your heart with nerves. The nostalgia is almost too much to bear, hands sticky with sweat as you grip your cases.

You remember the way instinctively, you could do it blindfolded if you had to even after all the years passed. You pass the small downtown square, a common ground sitting pretty in the center of the old-timey buildings with windows thrown open and crooked signs. Everything looks exactly the same save for a few extra cracks in the cobblestone and a business or two no longer flourishing, the mossy roofing sloping downwards a bit in the center. You take a left at the old red post office and the out-of-order telephone booth (it hadn't been used in the past twenty years anyway) and a right at the second dirt path.

After the clearing, is home. The tall grass sways with the ocean breeze, the white fences surrounding the pastures chipped from the weather. The big eight stall barn sits at the top of the drive in all its glory, the sliding door pushed halfway open to reveal the aged wood and stacks of bales inside.

The house stands still proudly on the hill just behind the barn, a fresh coat of paint on the wrap around porch but the screens in the front window still ripped and threadbare. You make your way up the front steps before dropping all your belongings at a heap by the door.

Before you can raise you hand to knock the screen door is thrown open haphazardly.

The older woman's face is painted in an expression of bewilderment. "What on God's green Earth are you doing here?" She asks in a rush, gathering you up in her arms in a crushing hug. She smells of lemongrass and vanilla, the scent of the hand soap at the kitchen sink and her perfume mingling. It's distinctly home.

You chuckle nervously, "Surprise?" you say, hugging her back.

Your mother smiles happily, pulling back to take a good look at you while rubbing your shoulders lovingly. There's a twinge of worry lingering in her eyes and you take a deep breath to prepare yourself to explain and break the news.

"I'm sorry, I know I should've called first but I just . . . I didn't know how to tell you and I was afraid you would tell me not to come."

She nods, but there are more questions swimming in her irises, "I would never tell you not to come." she says stiffly.

You resist the urge to retort, eye twitching, you have before is what you really want to say. Instead you take a deep breath and practically feel the words come to fruition on the tip of your tongue and suddenly your eyes are welling up with tears instead and theres a tight ball in your throat.

Your mother senses your hesitation and gathers your bags in her hands and urges you inside with her free arm at your back.

You're standing in your old living room now and the walls and crashing in on you like the tides and you can't stop the flow of tears down your cheeks and you have half the sense to be mortified by your slew of emotions. You had planned on keeping it together, but there are old pictures still hanging on the walls and its the same sofa your mother has had your whole childhood and the carpet is still stained in that one corner from your late dog and it smells like home everywhere.

"Talk to me," your mother pleads, "Whats going on?"

"Dad's dead." You sob, "I didn't even know he was sick. He refused treatment and didn't tell anyone and he passed three weeks ago. He'd been sick for months apparently."

The older woman shakes her head sorrowfully, her own eyes growing watery as well, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. I know how close you were with your father." She says, rubbing your back soothingly. "The funeral?"

"It's passed. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She only nods her head, understanding albeit still clearly upset. She knows she wouldn't have been welcome anyway. She sighs and swipes the back of her hand across her cheek. "If you want to talk about it I'm happy to listen. But I know you prefer not to."

You nod, "Thanks, Mom."

"Let me get some sheets cleaned for you, I haven't touched your bedroom since you were last here. I'm sorry it's probably a mess, I can help you clean up later." She says, moving towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "How long will you be staying?"

"Oh," you bite your lip hard, sniffling, "I, um, I sold everything. I'm not going back to California." you wring your hands tight at your lap, nervous.

But your mother smiles happily, although she turns away in attempt to hide her joy in such a sorrowful moment. You catch it anyway. A twinge of worry still lingers in her eyes, pulling gently on her crow's feet. She nods without hesitation and offers to take one of your bags up.

You sigh shakily as you crash upon the plush corduroy sofa cushions and put your head in your hands. The worst of it was over, and it was easy. Perhaps preparing yourself for the worst scenario was the key.

"Do you need to eat? Anything at all?" Your mother shouts down from the staircase. You can hear her starting the washer, the metal door clanging loudly as it locks shut. You decline, though you know you should eat soon. The nerves haven't quite run off yet and you're not so sure you're ready to put anything in your stomach yet for fear of it coming right back up.

"Bucky is stopping by to drop off eggs and a load of grain for the horses in a bit, he'd be happy to see you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Bucky? New farmhand?"

You mother chuckles as she makes her way back downstairs, "Sorry, James. He goes by Bucky now, I didn't realize you hadn't kept in contact with him either."

Your head cocks to the side— James. You hadn't heard that name in a long time, not that you had forgotten— you could never. But you would've thought he'd have been long gone off this island and had never looked back.

"He helps out a lot, painted the porch for me earlier this week when we had a rare, sunny day. The boy's a saint, I couldn't do all this work around here without him and his sister. I don't think he ever really recovered from combat though."

"Combat?" You exclaim, since when did he join the military?

"Honestly," Your mother chides, "You've missed so much around here, you've got to catch up!" she says, but there's a lightness to it and you can't hep but crack a smile. "Go on upstairs, you can bring the rest of your things up. Just push whatever is in there out into the hallway we can put it in the attic when we get to it."

You nod, thanking her again before making your way up the creaky narrow stair well to your old bedroom.

The door to your room swings open with a creak, revealing old boxes and crates of miscellaneous items and old broken furniture that looks like it hasn't been used in decades. Your old books sit in a pile on the nightstand and haphazardly in the old painted bookshelf. There are glow stars still stuck to the ceiling and a few stray ones on the walls, accompanied with an array of old posters and stickers and photos pinned to the surface with clear thumbtacks. The baby blue curtains are faded from the sun as is the thick quilt spread out on the bed from the big bay window.

"I'm sorry it's a mess, things started to accumulate in here since the room wasn't being used. Maybe Bucky won't mind helping us move everything to the attic before he leaves. The sheets will be done before noon." Your mother says gently, shrugging.

You thank her and the older woman turns to leave, a gentle hand resting upon your wrist and a soft smile in her wake. "Come down for breakfast please? I won't make you talk about anything." She says softly over her shoulder. "Its just good to have you back."

You nod, you figure it's the last thing you could do thing for her at this point.

"I think it's good to be back, too." You reply.

~

You sit in the old wooden chair propped up next to your desk, surveying the room around you. You make a mental note to remove those monstrosities on the walls as soon as possible, maybe throw them up in the attic with the rest of the junk. If you're planning on staying for the foreseeable future, you'd like to not live in a literal time capsule from your childhood. An old mug of cheap paintbrushes and broken pencils sits on the corner of the desk, along with a torn up eraser and an old peppermint candy that has probably been there for at least six years. The bed still adorns an old quilt set with yellow flowers and green vines, stitched with a thick yarn at the seams where you had accidentally torn it on the old wooden bed frame. A glance at the empty vase on the windowsill and you find your mind wandering to a certain James Barnes, or 'Bucky' now you suppose. Boyish hands holding yours and fresh bouquets from his mother's garden. The vase has never been empty for so long, you think sadly.

You remember a time when things were simpler, spent side by side with your best friend no matter the location. The boy was always sweet, doting, thoughtful. You wonder how you could've possibly gone so long without hearing from him, hell, you would be lying if you said you hadn't at least thought about him (like, everyday). Your heart aches for him, even if just for the quiet moments between the two of you when you were both naive, and young, and it was the world against you both. You hope with a sad smile that he hadn't been too lonely.

Perhaps he had a girl now, maybe he too left for college, or maybe the military was his ticket out but you did wonder how that came to be. And why he had returned here after. Suddenly, you feel terribly guilty, selfish even. You left someone truly important to you behind and on such poor terms. You never even called, texted, tried to reach out. God, the stupid things you do when you're only a teen. You can only hope he'd forgive you now that you were both grown— and hopefully less stupid.

You try to picture what he would look like now, and if he would be as handsome as you'd imagined he'd grown up to be. You grin at the idea. Perhaps his dark hair would have grown out or he'd have it cut short in a military fashion. If his steel blue eyes had darkened as he aged or if his face would be littered with freckles from the sun. Had he grown into those gangly long limbs and that boyish frame?

With a sigh, you push yourself up and throw open the window, letting the fresh morning air pour into the bedroom as you begin the task at hand: sorting through all this junk.

It's nearly noon when you finish putting away your belongings, getting rid of the dust, and making the bed with fresh, new sheets and a pretty, pin-striped comforter. You'd even taken a few trips to the attic yourself with the things she didn't need. Your mother had brought breakfast to you when she had seen how caught up you had gotten in the mess. But, the room felt big and spacious compared to what it once was, despite recalling that you used to complain about having no space when you were young.

It felt good to have an almost fresh start yet in a place so familiar.

Lost in thought, the deep growl of a truck climbing up the driveway rustles you from your mind. You rise to the large window and peer out at the sage green vehicle. It has a lovely vintage charm to it, and its frame is well cared for a free of rust, the tires are worn but the rims are sparkling silver, glinting even in the overcast. New lumber sticks out of the bed of it, harnessed together with a thick rope tied in a sailors knot and besides it are three bags of feed and a milk crate of eggs wrapped in a linen cloth. You can hear your mother calling out from the porch below her and its with sudden clarity that the anxiety you had forgotten about comes reeling back to your chest.

James.

And suddenly you feels like a teen again, rushing to check your appearance in the mirror and then pushing your fly-aways back from your face with shaking hands. You don't know why it matters to you even after all the time you've been away, honestly, it's laughable. But you can't stop worrying. What if he has absolutely no desire to see him after what happened the last time you were in town? Or what if he's disappointed by how you look? Or he's married?

You're slightly horrified by the realization, and even more horrified that it matters to you. Get over yourself! You want to scream. Honestly, what if he's ugly now? You have no idea!

You dig your nails into the wood of your dresser before turning on your heels and shaking the thoughts from your head. You're bounding down the steps before you can think any harder about it and when you finally throw open the front door you're nearly knocked back as soon as you lay eyes on him.

The first thing you notice is how tall he's gotten, and broad. He's shutting the driver's side door and walking around his truck, rolling up the sleeves of his henley when he stops in his tracks, eyes locked onto yours in shock.

It feels like a million moments pass and you're sure that you're oogling him disrespectfully and you're sure he knows. His eyes are bluer than they've ever been but not in that shockingly icey, cold way, but in the way that the ocean swirls and mingles with the cliffs, in that deep, dark, beautiful blue of the sea at nightfall, and the dark blue of the sky just before the last of the golden sunset falls away to the night. His hair is long, falling in cascades of ink just above his shoulders, some pieces cut short to frame his chiseled face, the lightest speckling of facial hair growing at his jaw. He raises an arm to fasten the baseball cap on his head before flashing that award winning smile, just the way he always used to.

He looks strong, and grown, and gorgeous. Healthy. And it's everything you could've wished for him.

You actually don't notice the glint of black metal at his left arm, not until you watch him deliberately hike his sleeves back down and cover it just as soon as you saw it. It's casual, but you do notice.

"Hi, James." You greet once he finally reaches within distance, your voice breathy and you almost shy away at how desperate it must've sounded. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, the fabric wrinkled and faded at the knees from wear.

He gazes at you curiously, those damned blue eyes glinting.

"It's Bucky now," your mother scoffs teasingly, "I already told her, you know she never listens!" she says to Bucky, laughing.

"No, thats okay, I'll allow it." He says, cheekily, "Hey, doll."

Doll. That was new. A wonderful and enticing new that lingered a little bit too long in your mind— seriously, had you been reduced to mush from a simple smile and a set of lovely blue eyes? Yes

"Right! I'm sorry, I forgot. It'll take some getting used to, I guess." You reply apologetically.

Your mother pulls open the screen door, "Let me grab that cash for you, Bucky. I'll be right back." she says, and when she's disappeared within the house he turns to you again.

"It's okay, I don't mind the way it sounds when you say it." He grins again, "'James' I mean."

You smile back shyly, unsure what to say back, but honored honestly.

"Anyway, you've been well?" He asks, stepping up to the edge of the porch and leaning against the railing.

"Yes," You nod, "yeah. I've been - well a lot has happened, I can't believe it's been so long since I've spoken to you. There's so much to tell you." You say.

"Yeah? I can't wait to hear all about it." He's so sickly sweet. He should be angry with you, anything but this.

"Well, what about you, how have you been? You look - well, you look good." You say, fighting back the blush you can only imagine with great disdain is creeping onto her face. "This is new", you point to the mechanical hand sticking out of his sleeve. You hope it's not too sore of a subject.

"It's been good." He answers quickly, "Missed having you around, for sure." He raises his metal arm sheepishly, "And this . . . this is just a little work-in-progress. A friend and I are working on furthering prosthetics in our free time. She's a goddamn genius, you wouldn't believe it."

You guess that he must have lost his arm in combat, and you're sure it probably is a sore subject, so you don't ask anything more. But you do marvel in the engineering of the device— well, what you can see of it.

Your mom comes back out with an envelope of money and hands it to Bucky, who thanks her generously, telling her it really isn't necessary.

"Oh, and those boxes too, do you want him to help you bring them up to the attic?" She asks, turning towards you.

You shake your head, he's clearly done plenty around here in the time you were gone, "I can handle it, it's okay. I don't want to bother you with it."

Bucky smirks, raising an eyebrow, "I'll head up there now, I got it." and he's already ascending up the front steps.

"Hey! No really, you do enough, I can take care of it!" You're calling after him but he's already bounding up the steps two at a time like its his own home, and you suppose, it really is. Some things never change.

"Thank you!" Your mother calls out to him, before turning to the barn and making her way up the gravel path, making it your problem.

You're chasing after him with a wide smile but he's already grabbing boxes and on his way to the attic before you can stop him, so you grab a box of your own and figure next best is to do it together.

It does go faster that way and you both fall into rhythm quicker than you had expected. That awkward tension leaves your body and you're left with a comfortable, pleasant hum of energy.

"Will I catch you later?" He's asking, tilting his head to your level.

"Yeah, I'll be here."

"I have my dad's boat now. We could take it out together while you're home? Catch up."

You smile again, and you can't think back to a time where you've smiled so much for such a silly, simple little reason. "I would love that, James."

~

Bucky heads back outside soon after to drop off the rest of the things he had for your mother and promises to say goodbye before he leaves.

You decide to pad over to the barn where you mother is, to see what she's up to before you tackle another project.

You make it barely a step into the old wooden building before she's cornering you.

"You're still in love with him." She states.

Your jaw drops incredulously, "I'm not in love with him! He's my childhood best friend." you counter, bewildered. "We haven't even talked in like, six years!"

"Right. He just happens to be entirely gorgeous now, that's all." Your eyes widen impossibly more and you have to bite your lip not to laugh aloud at your mother's brazen accusations.

"Shh! He's still here you know!"

"Did they not have any good looking boys in California?"

"They had plenty, thank you very much. Now leave it be." You're trying to hide it but you are smiling. Your mother knows you want her to can it, and so for once, she does, but theres a silent promise in her eyes that she will bring it up again.

You're glad she had stopped talking about it when she had, Bucky ducks his head into the barn just after and waves, bidding goodbye and saying thank you again to your mother, which she only deflects with her own thanks.

And then he's gone, the scent of pine wood and cinnamon left lingering in his tracks.

written 5/3/23 rewritten 5/22/25

Through Sea Mist and Shadows — Bucky Barnes x Reader — Masterlist

after many years away, you return back to the small family farm that was once considered your home. nestled above the cliff-sides of a remote Maine island, sea mist cresting at its edges, you find that things are far different now. your family bears you sad smiles, the fisherman's boy is quiet and reserved, and you yourself have changed beyond your own recognition over the years.

a story about returning to your roots and finding yourself where you least expected it; in the arms of an old friend.

started: 5/2/23 rewrite: 5/22/25

status: ONGOING! IN THE PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN!

warnings: mature readers only! 18+, discussions of mental illness and emotional trauma, death of a loved-one, suggestive, no use of (Y/N), cursing but come on now, we're all adults, I do include vague descriptions and interactions with readers' parents for plot points

CHAPTERS

prologue

one

two

Through Sea Mist and Shadows (Prologue) Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist

monday, march 12th, 5:37 am;

The salty mist spraying from the bow of the ferry stings in a familiar way. It tingles your skin like the guilt you swore to forget years ago and never could, but its grounding, cold. The dawn moon dips lazily into the horizon, casting a hazy silver glow over the sky and across the reflective waters as it sets. Somewhere beyond the distance, the sun is beginning to rise, awakening the small coastal village which holds the heart of your childhood. If you close your eyes you can still see it; the way the gentle warmth of the morning light would stretch upon the rocky cliff-sides, the soft grass of the fields, and curl up o your bedroom windowsill. You've missed that. Such a small detail yet you'd taken it for granted.

Beneath your fingers the rough, raised grain of the ship's wooden rails keep you grounded from the fleeting anxiety, you runs your fingers into the grooves until they leave indents on your skin.

It's been a long while since you'd returned to the cold, dreary island, it's hidden beauty laying deep beneath its layers. Six years, you recall, though it had been more like ten since you'd stayed for more than a simple visit. The time had treated you well, it taught you more than you could imagine - both about yourself and the world around you, you wouldn't change that for a minute even with the bad memories. But, looking back on your childhood, it's hard not to feel like a stranger to your own home. Would you be welcomed back with open arms, or are you to be swallowed and spit back out in rejection, cast into the sharp rocks of the coast?

The remote island sits modestly in the Gulf of Maine, somewhat near Winter Harbor. It's terrain ranges from dark, foreboding forestry to beautiful rocky coastlines, lush pastures, and seaside cliffs. The village is quaint and friendly, lined with old, mossy cobblestone and run down fish markets, humble boutiques, and an unvisited gift shop. You'll always find a doting neighbor, but you can guarantee that everyone will know your business as well. It's a community you knew deep down belonged to you, despite your reluctance in younger years.

As a child, your time was spent barefooted on the soft sands, the smell of sea salt and petrichor tickling your nose. A leather saddle tucked beneath you and the rhythmic beats of the horses' gait on the cobblestone paths. Laughter amongst siblings and time spent with dirt-covered hands and brown fingernails from the vegetable garden. Calloused hands pulling her up into the twisted branches of the apple trees and bouquets of wilted wildflowers. The brush of shoulders and shy smiles, school bells and then 'goodbye's.

You huff, long and drawn out, closing your eyes and feeling the sway of the boat encasing you. Home is just past the horizon.

Home.

literally so in love with this

A Million Reasons - Masterlist

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: Enemies (annoyance) to lovers, Bucky’s old money at an ivy league, angst, minor injury, drinking, eventual smut (minors dni, marked **)

a/n: Hello! I’ve decided there won’t be a set posting day for this series. This is something I’ve been super excited to share (even with my writing steam dying out) and I want to get it out here without extra pressure. I’ll be adding the dates for upcoming chapters as they are ready :) And thank you @traitorjoelite​ for that second, beautiful moodboard 🤍

♡ Series playlist 🪴

Keep reading

took one hit and I was gone

— alpha! bucky barnes x omega! reader

summary || after the rise of hydra, your entire life turned into a living nightmare. you lost everything you held precious, your job, your house, your degree, even hope. but then you’re assigned as a mate to him, your enemy and your only ray of hope, James Buchanan Barnes.

warnings || dystopian au. dark au (inspired by handmaid’s tale). enemies to lovers. SMUT. mating cycles/heats. unprotected sex. alpha! bucky. alpha/omega dynamics. knotting. multiple orgasms. body worship. shower sex. love making (sweet sex). marking kink. oral sex. fingering. protective!bucky. possessive! bucky. petnames (bunny). forced marriage. misogyny. fake laws. mentions of assaults. attempt to murder. angst with happy ending — MINORS DNI 🔞 if any of this makes you uncomfortable then please do not read!

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

I’ve literally put my entire pussy into this and I desperately hope that y’all like it :)

Your lips wobbled as you stared blankly outside the window. Your eyes weren’t seeing the blinking lights outside of the fast moving car but you could see the reflection of your sunken face in the clear glass against the night sky.

Steady tears were running down your cheeks. You had hoped your eyes would dry up and one day the tears would stop. But they never did. You probably hadn’t stopped crying from the day this world had completely changed overnight — for you.

The alphas and betas were still continuing on with their life just like it was before. But you, you were facing the consequences of the after. The blow was so sudden and severe that you still remembered how you’d openly gawked at your TV when the news was circulated.

After Hydra won against the government, project insight was implemented from the stroke of the midnight of that day. And in that single change of minute, you had lost your job, your degree, and your entire life. From a human with rights, you were reduced down to a omega meant to be bred.

Omegas of age weren’t allowed to work or study anymore, they were given to alphas to be mated, without their choice. There was some complicated algorithm of compatibility which no one cared enough to explain to you.

Unfortunately, you were one such omega.

You didn’t even know your mate’s name until this morning at the registry where he signed off both of your papers. The alpha now held all of your life in his fist. He could legally do anything to you and no one would even bat an eye.

James Buchanan Barnes, that was his name. He hadn’t spoken a word to you and you had read his name on the mating bond papers. He seemed to be lost in his own world and you were glad at least he wasn’t pestering you.

Did he not want you just as much as you didn’t want him?

You hoped that was the case and he would stay the hell away from you. Though you had to agree that the alpha was the most gorgeous man you had ever laid your eyes on. If you had met before, you surely would’ve tried your luck with his specimen of an alpha. But now you felt no such thing.

You had heard the horror stories of mated pairs, of how the alphas treated their omegas now that there wasn’t a law stopping their cruelty. Not a single omega was happy in this current world, and the fact that you were headed towards the same fate made goosebumps rise on your flesh.

You wished the alpha would open his mouth and at least say something so that it would give you a faint idea of how he was as a person. His crystalline blue eyes were fixated on the road and you noticed the small twitches of his nose he gave occasionally which you guessed were due to your scent, now that suppressants were banned.

Did he not like your scent?

The stupid question shouldn’t have disappointed you at all, but it did. On the other hand, you couldn’t scent him because alphas could still get scent blockers. Though you were glad that you didn’t have to smell him constantly, a small part of you still wished you could at least know what his scent was.

The rest of the ride was just as uneventful. You kept looking out of the window and he kept his mouth shut. When you finally arrived at his house, you blinked your eyes repeatedly to make sure you weren’t dreaming. His house was huge.

You realised that he wasn’t just an alpha, he was a powerful one at that.

Though you had guessed he was rich if his expensive car was something to go by, but you hadn’t expected him to be this influential. The beautiful house was surrounded by lush yard and your feet ached to experience the cool grass beneath your bare feet. It was a little hope of freedom.

The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside and though everything looked right out of an architectural magazine, the house wasn’t a home. It lacked the careful touch of love and homeliness. If it wasn’t for James bringing you here, you wouldn’t have believed anyone even lived here.

Your previous distractions melted away when James led you to his bedroom. Despite the cozy temperature, your body started trembling. You knew what was going to happen once you were inside, it was inevitable, but you were still not ready for it. Right now you were legally signed off to James, but after your bite, your soul would belong to him.

You frantically looked around for even a small exit to run away, and though you saw huge windows from which you could escape, you knew that if you were caught, which you most definitely would be, you’d face something worse than you’d imagined. So with a heavy heart and sweaty hands, you finally entered in.

Your eyes first landed on the spacious bed and a tingle of fear ran down your spine. You keenly followed Bucky’s movements, the alpha discarded his jacket and you nearly sobbed. This was it. This was the last moment where your soul would belong to you and not be tainted by some alpha’s teeth.

You were still standing by the door when the alpha, without even saying a word, disappeared into the bathroom. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion as you stood alone in the room. It then dawned upon you that James had never stated for you to come after him and you’d just blindly followed him.

Did he not want you in this room?

Why was he behaving like this?

You didn’t even sit down and just patiently waited for him to reappear into the room. You could hear the shuffling noises inside and you anxiously worried your lower lip. You didn’t understand why he went inside the bathroom to undress himself when he could do it in front of you like expected.

When he finally arrived back, you were shocked to see him dressed in sweatpants and a cotton shirt. Your heart calmed down a little and your shoulders sagged with relief when it became clear that he wasn’t going to mate with you, at least not tonight.

But that was until you saw his metal arm.

The instant your eyes fell on the glinting metal, you recognised who he was. How could you not? His name was on everyone’s tongue as they gossiped, he was said to be a ghost. He was the one who had taken down Captain America and had ensured that Hydra took over the government.

He was called the fist of Hydra.

The Winter Soldier.

And he was the one responsible for all your misery.

He had probably cropped his hair short after Hydra had taken over, because in the pictures from before, he had dark shoulder length hair. His new hair, combined with the fact that he wore gloves, was why you hadn’t realised who he was earlier.

Suddenly, all the riches he possessed clicked into place. All the alphas who protested against Hydra were stripped of all their wealth and those who supported were promoted. And this alpha, shamelessly enjoying all these luxuries, was literally one of the top ranking officers. He was probably only under Alexander Pierce, the leader of the whole operation.

Your helplessness now burned down into fuming anger. The man who was responsible for ruining your and many other’s lives was roaming this planet without a single consequence. Your hands shook, not with fear, but with the urge to hit him. Your body was pulled taut as you stood still, like a tiger waiting to pounce on its prey.

James didn’t even look at you as he laid down on the bed. He slept on the right side and turned away from you, giving you a view of his back. fool. You shouldn’t be showing your back to your enemy. But he didn’t know you were his enemy, not yet.

You knew you couldn’t attack now, he was a skilled assassin and he’d easily overpower you. But you had to carry on with your ruse. You wanted to throw up just from the thought of laying next to him, but you had to. Gladly, the bed was spacious enough to leave plenty space between you two such that not even your hands were near each other.

Your eyes stared at the electric clock at the side of your bed, the little red digits keeping you busy and aware of the time. The alpha apparently didn’t snore, so you couldn’t tell if he had fallen asleep or not. But for a good measure, you keep yourself awake for a few more hours by thinking of all the things you once loved.

When the red digits finally blared that it was much past midnight, you slowly tiptoed out of the bed. You turned around to check if the alpha was awake and you let out a little sigh when you saw his eyes were closed. Gladly, the floor neither the doors were squeaky so without making a noise, you came downstairs and looked around for the kitchen.

You didn’t take much time in finding a knife once you reached the kitchen. You gulped nervously, you knew the consequences would be immense. But you had to. You couldn’t live with yourself if you let James go away unharmed. They had already ruined your life, what more could they do?

You clutched the knife as if your life depended upon it as you walked up the stairs and back into his room. A little of your courage drained out of you when you noticed his sheer size. His bulging bicep was visible of his flesh hand and whimpered at the possibilities of what the metal arm was capable of.

But this was your only chance at revenge. His eyes were still closed and his breathing was even. Your hand was trembling and the knife was gleaming in the moonlight as you stood above his sleeping form. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. You can do this.

“You’ll have to be a little more swift if you want to kill me.”

You didn’t even recognise the shriek you let out when the alpha commented this. He didn’t even make a move to get up or take the knife away from you, instead he just opened his eyes. His blue grey eyes were staring at you for the first time and you felt yourself shaking at just the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re too loud. You should try to walk a little silently and not stomp. I can even hear your heart thundering in your chest right now, and you smell as if you’re about to pass out. But I gotta give it to you for your bravery. Also, good choice of knife.”

His tone was condescending as if he was entertaining a wild kitten who he knew would cause him no harm. He didn’t even see you as a serious threat, and that infuriated you even more. He thought you were so helpless and so meek, that you couldn’t even do any substantial harm to him.

“Fuck you!” You screamed with all the strength you could muster. You already knew you were going to face the worst kind of punishment for trying to murder him, so there was no point trying to make excuses. The anger that had brewed inside you for so long finally came out.

“Oh. I thought you didn’t want that.” He said nonchalantly and it added fuel to the fire. This man was so smug, he thought he knew it all. But the problem was, he probably did know it all. He was guessing your next step even before you did it.

“Shut up! Shut up, you monster! You think you’re some kind of a god now, don’t you? Snatching away our rights and playing with our lives. But you’re going to face the consequences of what you’ve done. We’ll get justice one day and then you’ll rot in hell for the rest of your life!” You shouted.

“I’m already in hell sweetheart.” He said with a loud defeated sigh.

“Oh, you think you’re so funny with your stupid little comebacks. God, I just wanna strangle you so bad.” You said through clenched teeth. “Go on then. Strangle me. I’m right here. I won’t even fight back, I promise.” He was still casually lying down, unaffected, while you were burning with fury.

You really wanted to choke the life out of him, but you knew it was a trap. So instead you just stood where you were and tried to convey all your hate through your gaze. “See. You can’t do it now. So get some sleep and think about more ideas and probably poison my food tomorrow.”

You couldn’t believe this man’s audacity. Did he not feel even a little bit guilty? He lost definitely did not as he closed his eyes again not even caring that you still had a knife in your hand. What you hated the most was how he didn’t give you even a little attention.

“Go to hell!” You screamed again before leaving the room with a loud bang of the door. The house was fairly empty at night and so you went downstairs again to sleep on the lavish couch. But just as you came down the stairs, you swear you saw something move in the periphery of your eye.

The floor was too dark without a source of light except the reflection from the moon. But when you turned around, you could see the silhouette of a tall man. Your heart was as it is pumping adrenaline, but after seeing the shadowy figure, your heart nearly stopped.

Swallowing a shriek, you ran back upstairs as fast as you could. You once again entered Bucky’s room and quickly locked the door. Your brain was constantly playing — alpha will protect you — and despite hating it, you did ran back to your alpha. No. Not your alpha.

“Welcome back!” You could see his eyes were still closed and he hadn’t yet seen your panting form. “Do… do you have servants at night?” You wiped off the thin sheen of sweat that collected on your forehead. “No. They all leave by 8.” This time he opened your eyes and after looking at your disheveled state, he finally got up.

“Hey. What happened?” And there it was, genuine concern which oddly touched your heart. “There’s someone downstairs. I saw… someone.” You said as you clutched your heaving chest. At this point after all that had happened, you couldn’t think straight.

“Shhh. Calm down.” A tingle ran down your spine when the alpha gently touched your hand. He pulled you further into the room and made you sit on the bed. “There’s no one else in this house right now. You’re tired, let me get some water for you.” His eyes looked so kind, much unlike before.

“I swear I…” you protested, but he stopped you. “Shhh… give me a minute okay?” He wasn’t mocking you, instead he was trying to soothe you. And it was so wildly unexpected but so very welcomed. You nodded as Bucky left the room and sagged a little into the overly soft bed.

He was unlike any other alpha you’d ever met.

Even back when things were normal, alphas pounced on omegas every chance they got. But he hadn’t even touched you in that way yet. The other alphas took meagre reasons to punish their omegas, but he hadn’t even done anything when you’d literally tried to kill him. This gentleness was so bewildering, it was like a punch in your gut.

This man who had literally destroyed everything that came in his way to make sure Hydra won was being so sweet to his omega? No, this must be some kind of a trap.

“Here, take this. I just checked downstairs, there’s no one. I think you should rest now.” He handed you a glass and you greedily gulped down the cool water. “Thank you, alpha.” You loathed calling him that, but that was the rule. You couldn’t address him by his name.

“Don’t call me that. My name’s Bucky.” You openly gawked at Bucky like a fish. Did you hear that right? “You want me to call you by your nickname?” He smiled, and by god it was the most beautiful one you’d ever seen. “Everyone close to me does, so yeah. Do call me Bucky.”

“Okay… Bucky.” The name sounded good in your mouth. You shared your name back and he repeated it as if tasting it on his tongue. “It’s good to meet you. But remember, when we are outside or in front of anyone else, even the servants, you have to address me as Alpha.” He warned and you nodded.

“Can I ask why?” This was so suspicious. “I can’t give you all the answers. But I hope one day you’ll get it.” You wanted to fight back but you were too tired for it. “Also, this reminds me…” Bucky turned around and dug something out from his walk in closet.

You clenched your jaw when you saw what was in his hands. A collar. It was a thin black leather collar with a tag in between and you already knew what it said and it made you wanted to cry harder. You crumbled the bed sheets with your fist in your anger.

“You’ll have to wear this everytime we are out of this room.” He handed you the collar and you inspected the material with tears in your eyes. It was soft but wasn’t the material that would cause pain, but the rather the physical existence of a sign of ownership.

“I don’t want to wear this.” You didn’t shout, rather you complained in a small voice. “I know. But you have to or else it’ll be worse for both of us.” You knew it was a compulsion for all the omegas to wear a collar with a name tag of their alphas. You turned around the metal tag to see what you already knew would be there.

Winter’s

Odd, you had expected it to say James and not Winter Soldier. Because ever other omega had one with their alpha’s first name. You ran your thumb over the engraving. “Why does it say this? Shouldn’t it be your first name?” You genuinely asked.

“Because there may be many James, but there’s only one Winter Soldier.” A weird feeling bloomed into your chest, it was close to pride but you suppressed it. You weren’t going to be reduced to your primal instincts, you had a functioning brain and you were going to use it.

“Ohh. Aren’t you going to mate me?” You finally asked the question you had been eager to ask since a long time now. What felt amusing was that Bucky was answering all of your questions, while you were sure the other alphas would get annoyed and tell you to shut the fuck up.

“No.”

The relief you had denied yourself for so long finally spread through your body. The thing you feared the most was not happening and you hadn’t ever felt happier. “Thank you. Though I must ask why? Is there someone else in your life?” You probably were crossing a line, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“No. I just… I just don’t want to force you.” His words were so sincere that you wanted to cry with how sweet the alpha was, but then you bitterly remembered who he was. You couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh that bubbled up in your throat.

“You better be joking! Are you serious? What the fuck!” You spat out while giggling. “Of course I’m serious. I know you hate me more than anything else, but you have to trust me on this one.” His eyes were warm despite being deep blue and you didn’t know how he managed that.

“You are the Winter Soldier! You are literally the reason all of us are suffering and you say you won’t force yourself on me? Are you insane? What even is your problem? And trust you? I’d rather be dead than trust a scum like you.” You huffed out.

Bucky closed his eyes and took in a long breath. “I don’t…” he wanted to tell you something but he stopped himself short. “You know what, it’s late. Let’s go to sleep.” You wanted to know what he was saying before, but he quickly went back to his side and buried himself under the covers.

You grumbled to yourself about how you’d managed to score the most insane alpha on this planet. You stretched a little before yawning and laying down in the bed again. This time, the exhaustion of the day and super fluffy bed made you quickly fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

“Your house is beautiful.” Ann commented in her soft voice as she looked at the house. A little smile spread across your lips, “Thank you. But it’s not my house. Also I’m pretty sure it’s haunted.” You jested and her face turned around to look at you with wide eyes. “Wait, what?”

“I believe someone else lives in this house except us but Buc…. my Alpha doesn’t believe me.” You nearly slipped up Bucky’s name but gladly correctly yourself before anyone could notice. Ann shook her head at your antiques.

It had been a month since you had first met Bucky and by now, you had slipped well into the role of pretending to be his mate. Omegas usually dressed such that their bonding marks were hidden, you wore clothes with high collar to hide the absence of one.

Bucky’s behaviour still didn’t sit right with you, he still hadn’t mated with you and rather chatted with you as you were his friend, not his omega. He was also interested in asking about how your life was before this and you had seen a flash of guilt in his eyes for the first time.

Today, Bucky had arranged a party in his house. The preparation had been going on for days since only the elite members of the society were invited. The names you’d only heard before finally got a face as they arrived at the party. All of them were smiling and laughing as if they hadn’t just ruined so many peoples’ lives.

Your blood had boiled seeing those cruel alphas so happy and unable to take it anymore, you had slipped out into the backyard. It wasn’t like anyone was even looking for you, you were an unwanted omega who was only there because you had nowhere else to go. But as you were outside, you had met Ann, Brock Rumlow’s omega.

Rumlow was Bucky’s subordinate but Ann was a sweet woman and you had stroke an odd friendship with her. You both had so many problems in your life that all you wanted to do with cry on each other’s shoulder, but instead you chose to talk about stupid things that didn’t matter. It was like a small reprieve from the issues of the world.

“And that’s because there really isn’t anyone except us.” You turned around to see Bucky standing besides you. “I.. we didn’t know you were here. Sorry alpha.” Ann fumbled. Looking at her panicked state on the arrival of Bucky, you could only guess how her alpha treated her. She didn’t wait anymore and quickly went back inside.

“I was a little worried when you disappeared.” Bucky whispered as you walked side by side. The warmth of the house seeped into your skin as you entered back into the chattering crowd. “Why? You were worried I’d be poisoning all your food?” You joked.

“I wouldn’t take you for any less.” Bucky chuckled and shook his head. You looked around the party to see how the other alphas treated their omegas, they were merely a thing of possession for them and nothing else.

You and Bucky were walking very close to each other, such that your hands were touching. You didn’t know what got into you, but but placed your hand on his and interlaced your fingers and held tight. Bucky’s head snapped down to your entwined hands and he looked up at you with surprise.

“What’s this for?” You could hear the happiness in his voice as he too locked his fingers with you. The past month, you had somehow began to trust the alpha. And this little token of affection, that was your connected hands, meant so much to you. “I’m just glad I got you.” Hearing your words, a sweet smile spread on Bucky’s lips.

But soon the smile drained from both of your faces when you came face to face with none other than Alexander Pierce. You knew he was not only invited to the party, but he was very close to Bucky. For the first time in your life you were happy that you didn’t have to speak anything at all because you knew you couldn’t say anything good to Pierce.

Bucky and Pierce had some conversation you weren’t interested in listening, so instead you just awkwardly shifted from one foot to another hoping to survive today’s night somehow. But those plans were thwarted when one of the clumsy beta waiters accidentally collided with you and ended up spilling a whole tray containing champagne flutes.

“Fuck!”

You didn’t even think twice as you cursed out loud. Your clothes were wet and soggy and you groaned with disappointment. But when you looked up, you realised everyone else was staring at you with wide eyes, especially other omegas. And that’s when you realised your mistake; omegas weren’t supposed to curse.

“I noticed that you’ve got yourself a feisty one, James.” Alexander Pierce was the first one to comment and then the whole room dissolved into laughter, at your cost. You were sure half of them didn’t even hear the joke but were laughing just because pierce said something. But one thing you noted was how Pierce called Bucky James.

“Well, I’ve trained my whore right.” Rumlow commented and you felt all the sirens going red in your head. Did he really just say that? You eyes turned to poor Ann who was desperately trying to hide her face but failing to do so. You couldn’t take this anymore. You hated being so so helpless.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You said turning over to Rumlow and once again, the whole room went silent, even Pierce stopped laughing and looked at you with calculating eyes. Your hands were shaking with the immense need to punch Rumlow straight in his jaw.

“Omega.” You felt Bucky’s warning grip over your shoulder, but you didn’t stop — couldn’t stop. “You think this is funny? You think any of us want to be here? Because if it were up to me I wouldn’t even look twice at a scum like you. You think you’re some kind of an alpha trying to dominate others, but let me tell you how wrong you are. Alphas are supposed to protect, not force. Not one of you is a true alpha.”

You knew you had hurt all their egos and hurting an alpha’s ego wasn’t a good choice, but seeing literally all of them flinch at your words made you feel happier than you had ever been. But soon the shock turned into fury and you saw the way they looked at you and you gulped nervously.

“James, you’ve disappointed me by keeping your omega like this. I thought higher of you.” Pierce’s tone was purely evil and condescending and you wanted to slap his smug face. “Who the fuck cares what you think of him? You think you’re God and people will worship you? No. You are literally the devil.” You spat out at Pierce.

“You bitch!” Rumlow cried out as he began walking towards you with fury. You closed your mouth shut when you saw his malicious eyes glinting. You probably had fucked up real bad. But before Rumlow could even touch you, Bucky shielded your body with his.

“Don’t even think of touching her Rumlow. She’s mine!” Bucky growled.

You didn’t know why but seeing Bucky get protective over you made you suddenly swoon. But the fluttering feeling went away when you Bucky turned to look around at you, his eyes weren’t soft unlike before. He had stopped Rumlow but he wasn’t going to be kind to you. “Alpha,.. I..” you tried reasoning.

“Omega! Enough!” You completely froze up when you heard Bucky use his alpha voice on you for the first time. He hadn’t ever done that before and you were completely unprepared for this. Your eyes widened as you began tearing up. You hadn’t ever felt this helpless before as you omega quietened up at alpha’s command.

“Go upstairs.” This time, he used his regular voice and you still felt like shit. “I thought you were different. But turns out you’re just like the rest. A monster! All of you are going to pay…” You weren’t thinking anymore, the words just began spilling out of your mouth.

“I said go upstairs. Now!” He growled the last part in his alpha voice again and you were helpless but to follow. Now openly sobbing like a baby, you hid your face with your palms and started running up the stairs. Your heart was shattered and you felt betrayed. And yet you cursed yourself for expecting anything different.

“It would’ve been fun if you would’ve punished her in front of us.” You heard Rumlow chuckle and nearly everyone else joined in. You hadn’t ever felt this humiliated before. But what you didn’t see was the blazing glare Bucky sent Rumlow’s way.

You reached your room and closed the door with a loud bang before sagging against it. Your vision was blurry with all the tears and you were a second to late to notice the man standing in your dark room. Just as you were about to scream, a huge hand wrapped around your mouth to muffle your noises.

As you stood face to face with the mystery man, you finally realised who it was. He had an auburn beard which he didn’t carry before and his blond hair was outgrown and slicked back. And yet his blue eyes were just as piercing and honest.

“Captain America?”

Your voice was garbled due to the hand around your face and you saw him give a relieving sigh. “Promise me you won’t scream.” He whispered. You nodded and he let go of you. “Holy shit! I thought you were dead.” Despite the promise, you still shouted.

“Shhhhh” he placed a finger on his lips and shushed you. “Oops. I thought you were dead. What are you even doing here? And wait, are you the ghost I’ve been seeing around?” You whispered yelled. He snorted before replying, “Yes and no. I mean it was me who you were seeing, but no I’m not a ghost.”

“Ohhhhhh..” you were utterly confused and nothing was fitting in place. “But what are you doing here? And Bucky didn’t kill you? Wait, I mean alpha.” It had become an habit to correct yourself in front of anyone else. “No Bucky didn’t kill me, and you can call him by his name, I know you do. Also call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You said it aloud. You hadn’t ever thought you’d meet Captain America and still here you were. “You have to tell me everything Steve because I’m getting confused over here.” You wiggled excitedly as you were getting to know a top secret.

“We knew Hydra was going to take over, but it was too late. So we had to send someone over as an undercover agent, and that’s who Bucky is. We staged Bucky killing me so that he’ll grow close to Pierce and get all the inside information. And gladly the plan worked and Bucky is now the second in command. I’ve been living here all this time because anyone else wouldn’t be safe.”

Your jaw was nearly on the floor when you heard the whole story. The man who you had blamed and degraded for so long was actually a hero. Suddenly all of Bucky’s behaviour started fitting right. “So, you mean Bucky’s a good guy.” You squealed out.

“Yes. In fact, he’s the best guy. We’ve been best friends since childhood and you gotta trust me on this.” You gawked at him like a fish out of the sea. “So are you planning to take down Hydra now? If so why didn’t you tell me?” You were angry on both of them for hiding this from you. “Of course we are working towards it. I promise you, it’s going to be real soon. And we didn’t tell you because it would put you in danger.”

“I cannot believe this. Wow! Okay..” you nearly lost your vocabulary as you blabbered on. You sat on the bed with a wide smile. A new hope took place in your heart and the justice that you staunchly believed in was finally going to be served, soon.

You and Steve chatted on until you heard the party end. You patiently waited as Bucky was finally done with the day, and came into the bedroom. He looked tired as it is, and nearly his soul left his body when he saw you and Steve together. “So I see you guys already met. Fuck, I forgot I’d told Steve to wait in this room.”

“It’s okay! We’ve become great friends and gladly I’m not referred to as a ghost anymore.” Steve jested and Bucky sighed with relief when he saw you two were on good terms. “How much did you tell her?” Bucky squinted at you two. “Everything. Bucky I can’t believe you hid all of this from me, I mean I was going to kill you more than once.”

“Yeah. I would’ve gladly taken that knife.” Bucky ran a hand through his short hair. You stopped smiling and looked at Steve. “Bucky..” Steve started and Bucky shook his head. He gave a smile which you knew was fake, “I was joking. Anyway, the guests are gone and I’m very tired, we should talk in the morning.” By now you knew Bucky said this when he wanted to avoid a topic.

“Yeah you’re right. Good night!” Steve wished before leaving you two alone in your room. Bucky didn’t even change his clothes as he laid down on the bed. You didn’t know what else to do so you two joined him. “I’m sorry.” Bucky said in the silence of the night.

“Huh, for what?” After listening to what Steve said, you had nearly forgotten what happened at the party. “For how I.. umm, behaved at the party. I had to stop you or they’d do worse and I., I couldn’t see that. I had to use my voice or else you’d not only get yourself into something horrible but also blow my cover. So I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I felt like shit back then, but now I understand. I’m not holding anything against you, not anymore. And I’m sorry too for putting you in trouble.” You we’re both staring at the ceiling as you said softly. For the first time, you were sleeping much closer to each other, such that you felt each other’s warmth seep through.

“I feel like killing all of them, but I can’t, not yet. And it hurts me. I hate laughing with them as if it’s not killing me inside to see what’s happening in the world.” You hadn’t ever seen Bucky be this vulnerable in front of you. You hesitantly placed your hand on Bucky’s hand and when he didn’t stop, you reassuring rubbed it.

Bucky turned to look at you and you could see the pain in his clear blue eyes. Wordlessly, you both shifted closer until you were holding each other tightly. It felt so good to be held by someone after so long. And Bucky’s big arms encased your body perfectly within. “I may not have been able to stop it, but I promise you, I’m going to burn them to the ground.” He whispered in your hair.

“I know. I trust you.”

In the warm embrace of an alpha you trusted, you fell into a satisfying sleep. When you woke up, it felt as if you were sleeping on a heater; your body was too warm for your liking and a weird kind of ache was persistent in your core.

Your face was buried in your alpha’s neck and you were overcome with the urge to breathe in your alpha’s scent. But he was wearing scent blockers and you twitched your nose in displease in your sleepy state. Your tongue darted out to lick off the blockers and you felt your alpha move beneath you.

You kept on licking his neck in order to get to finally scent him as you felt him wake up. You heard him take in a deep breath before growling out, “Omega..” he began purring deep in his chest and you held him tighter.

The ache in your core became too much to bare so you started grinding on his thigh which was wedged between your legs. You moaned as you got some relief but before you could do anything more, he pushed you off of him and went to the other side of the room.

“No no. Fuck! God, Fuck! You’re in heat.” Bucky pressed a hand to his head as took in your desperate form. Your lust added brain was a little slow to process his words but when you did, your eyes flew wide and you quickly sat up on the bed. “Bucky,.. I.. I don’t know what to do.”

“Calm down. We’ll find a way. I.. shit it’s my fault. Sleeping so close must’ve sent you into an heat.” Bucky ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Shit. Sorry.” You shook your head as he apologised. “Don’t be sorry. Please.”

You wanted Bucky to help you through your heat not just because you knew it’d be hell without him, but because he was Bucky. Not just the alpha was super attractive, but he was a good person too and that somehow made him even sexier.

“Why don’t you help me?” You finally gathered the courage to ask. “What? No. You don’t want me to do that.” Bucky plainly stated. “That’s not true. I want you. And I’m sure you won’t be able to control yourself when I slip further into heat.”

“Those stories are bullshit. I can perfectly control myself in front of an omega in heat.” Bucky felt hurt at your accusation. “No Bucky, I didn’t mean it like that. But please help me. This is going to be my first heat after coming off suppressant and it’s going to be worse, I just know it. Also,… I do like you.” You whispered the last part.

“Yeah right.“ Bucky replied sarcastically. “Bucky I know I hated you, but that was before I knew the truth. Now that I know who you are and what you’re doing, of course I don’t hate you anymore. I trust you. And even before that, the way you’ve behaved with me the past whole month.. I just don’t have words for my gratitude.”

Out of all the responses you expected, a laughter wasn’t one of it. “How are you even talking like that? Gratitude? Really?” Bucky looked cute while he laughed and the way his nose scrunched up was absolutely adorable. You knew it was what you truly felt, but you still blamed the sudden affection on your heat addled brain.

“I was an lit major, I told you. Also I don’t lose my head when I’m in heat. I’m giving you my complete consent.” Bucky laughter stopped and he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t place. “Really?” He sounded surprised. “Yes. Please Bucky.”

Bucky covered the distance between you two in the blink of an eyes and didn’t waste any time in pulling you into a scorching kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours as you kissed each other passionately. You had more than once fantasised about his lips and your omega was preening at the way he kissed you.

“Bucky, please…” your voice was a needy whine against his lips. His teeth sank into your lower lip and tugged on it and the action had you weak in your knees. He pecked the worried skin again before smiling down at you, “I know. Let me take care of you.”

You were confused, but didn’t complain as he pulled you into the bathroom. He slowly pulled up your shirt and pressed kisses to every inch of skin that was exposed. You hadn’t ever been naked in front of him, but the way he was worshipping you, you didn’t feel insecure in the least. By the time you were finally naked, you were already writhing like a leaf.

You were completely naked except for the collar around your neck which you had forgotten to take off. You didn’t expect Bucky to remove it, but you were shocked when his fingers opened the lock and threw the collar down along with your clothes. This gesture made you have heart eyes for Bucky.

Unlike the patience he had shown you, he quickly discarded his clothes. You became speechless when you saw his body, his taut abs, thick thighs and bulging biceps had you drooling on the spot. The metal arm only added on to the rugged look and you were already having nasty thoughts on it.

“Fuck..” you went cross eyed when you when you saw his thick alpha cock. It was long and veiny and you desperately wanted to put your mouth on it. But instead, you subconsciously licked your dry lips. You could see the place where his knot would be swollen and the thought of his knot sent your brain into an overdrive.

“Come on.” He pulled you into the shower and you sighed as the warm water cascaded down your tensed muscles. But you couldn’t keep your eyes off the way the droplets were making rivulets down Bucky’s magnificent body. You didn’t think once before peeking out your tongue and licking a long line on Bucky’s sternum.

As the water washed down the heavy blockers, you could finally scent your alpha. Rich piney undertones mixed with a little spice and something that was completely Bucky filled your lungs. The scent was unlike anything you’d ever smelled and you could bury yourself in it for the rest of your life.

“You like me that much?” Bucky chuckled and you nodded with an absent mind. His hands gently kneaded your muscles as he lathered your body with soap. His hands on you were making you feel needier and you were constantly whining as he purred to cooed you down.

“Why did you get me here?” You asked as the water finally washed off the soap from both of your bodies. “To remove my blockers and relax you. And see, it worked.” He was stood behinds you and his breath ghosted on your the shell of your ear.

His hands were exploring your body and you arched your back to lay your on his shoulder. You whimpered as Bucky placed his hand between your legs and spread them. When his fingers finally touched your needy folds, a little hum left your lips and Bucky growled.

Two of his fingers rubbed your sensitive petals before his middle finger started pressing tight circles over your swollen clit. “Bucky pleaseee..” you begged. But still he didn’t let up, his movements were slow yet calculated. You squirmed in Bucky’s hold and he just held you tighter. “Stay still, let me stretch you out for my cock first.”

“Don’t… don’t say stuff like that. I won’t be able to stop myself.” Your voice had a seductive lilt to it. “Then don’t stop yourself.” With that, Bucky finally pushed his thick finger into your pulsing hole. “You’re so tight. Don’t worry though, I’ll take good care of you.” He closed the shower and turned you around.

He pushed you a little until you were leaning on the wall as he sat down on his knees in front of you. He lifted on of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. You weaved your fingers through his hair to balance yourself and his eyes zeroed in on your cunt. “You’re so pretty. And all mine.”

You were loving the way Bucky got possessive over you, it gave you a warm sense of happiness that you were wanted by this gorgeous man. You hated the conditions which landed you here, but you loved that you found a mate who took such good care of you. Not your mate, your brain supplied.

But all these thoughts left your mind when you felt Bucky’s hot tongue lick your folds. “Fuck! Ohmygod Bucky!” You clutched his hair tighter as he ate you out like a famished man. His tongue played with your wet cunt while his lips sucked on your throbbing nub.

His ministrations were making you even more wet and he was licking up your slick with fervour, it was like an unending circle you didn’t want to get out of. His tongue teased your hole before entering it. Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you with his wet tongue.

You couldn’t stop yourself as you grinded down on his face and Bucky gladly took it all without complain. Once you were relaxed enough on his tongue, he once again began fingering you while his tongue flicked your clit. His two thick fingers were deliciously pumping within you as your back arched against the cold tiles of the wall.

Stars burst behind your eyes when you came around his fingers. Your body nearly fell ahead but Bucky’s hand snapped up in time to hold you against the wall and stop you from falling. When Bucky pulled back, you could see the wet lower half of his face and the image was the most erotic thing you’d seen.

“I need your knot.” That was all your brain could process as you stared deeply into his blue eyes. Bucky smiled as he stood up and picked you up in his arms, bridal style. You squealed at the sudden gesture, “How are you even doing this?” You were surprised that he was easily carrying you without any strain. “I’m a super soldier, bunny.”

“Hnngg.” Even you didn’t know what kind of sound that was, but it was probably the sign that your brain was malfunctioning at the cute nickname. Bucky laughed at your state, but it wasn’t mocking, rather it was endearing. He pressed sweet kisses to your face as he placed you on the bed.

You turned around on your stomach and raised your hips such that you were presenting. “You don’t have to present, we can just.. you know.” Bucky had just eaten you out and now he was acting all shy. “It will be easier this was for me Bucky. Please!”

You wiggled your hips and the tactic worked as Bucky was upon you in the next second. He turned your head to the side to deeply kiss you and you tasted yourself on his tongue and it was oddly arousing. “Thank you.” Bucky whispered.

“Why?” You didn’t understand what he was saying. “For letting me have you.” Your eyes teared up at how gentle he was being. “Why are you like this?” You mumbled out and Bucky just snorted. “My alpha’s all protective over you, always was.” He became still the moment the words were out of his mouth fearing that you’d get mad at him.

“I like that.” He let out a relieved breath when you said this. He buried his nose in your neck and inhaled deeply. “Your scent drives me crazy, bunny, only I know how I’ve managed to keep my hands off you.” He licked and sucked on your neck until it was wet with his saliva.

His eyes locked on the place your mating bite was supposed to be, all he had to do was bite and you’d be his forever, but he shook himself out of the thought. He jerked his cock in his hands twice before lining it up with your hole. He closed his eyes and growled when his headed finally popped into your tight heat.

Just the head of his cock was making you feel overwhelmed and by the time he was halfway in, you began squirming. “Bucky.. I don’t… I don’t think I can take it.” Bucky was slowly thrusting his way into you. Pulling back and pushing in until you took an inch more of him.

“You can take me bunny, I know you can.” He didn’t want to hurt you, he possibly couldn’t, his alpha hindbrain was crazy for keeping you safe and sated. You curled your fingers into the comforter and shut your eyes when his entire length was buried within your walls.

You hadn’t ever felt more full in your life and your omega brain was preening with the sensation. Bucky gave you a moment to settle before thrusting into you. He began slow and calculated and increased his pace until he was going hard and frantic.

His metal hand was holding your hip tightly and you knew it was going to bruise soon. And you liked that your alpha was leaving his mark on you. You had sex before, but this was unlike any you ever had. You were sure Bucky had ruined you for anyone else, the way he was gentle and yet fucked you better than anyone else.

“I’m glad you feel that way bunny.” You bit your tongue when you realised you’d said your thoughts out loud. “You have no idea what you do to me, you literally make me crazy for you. I’m going to ruin you for every other man, bunny. You’re mine, only mine!”

“Oh Bucky, yes! I’m yours, only yours.” You craved out as he fucked you into the mattress. Bucky veiny cock was rubbing your right spots and you felt the heat in your core rise. You wanted Bucky, no you needed him more than you needed water. You wanted to belong to him, forever.

“Make me yours alpha, bite me!”

Bucky froze when he heard your plea. He knew you were on the peak of your heat, and you definitely didn’t mean it. But it was so difficult convincing his alpha side which was doing backflips with the prospect of you wanting him just as much as he wanted you.

You began fucking yourself on his cock when he didn’t move and Bucky realised that you needed him to be sane at the moment. You were vulnerable and he wasn’t going to take advantage of that, no matter what his primal instincts shouted him to do.

Holding you still again, he began fucking you with the same passion. Bucky knot was swollen and it tugged just the right was on your walls. “Bucky!” You sobbed when you felt yourself grow closer. Bucky growled when you chanted his name and it was all it took for you to fall down the edge of pleasure.

You muffled your screams into the pillow as you came harder than you ever had. Your body convulsed as you experienced this euphoria and tears slipped from your eyes from the sheer intensity of it. Feeling your walls clench down on him, Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer and pushed his swollen knot into you before coming.

You arched your neck and Bucky’s jaw ached with the need to sink his teeth into your soft flesh and claim you. His face were dangerously close to your neck as you blissfully came beneath him, your scent was making him growl like a caveman. But before he could do something terrible, Bucky quickly bit down on his metal arm.

Bucky’s knot prolonged your orgasm and you weren’t aware of your surroundings. All you cared for was your alpha and his cock buried deep within you. Soon, you felt him press little kisses on your face, neck and shoulder and you practically melted under his love.

When you calmed down and the frenzy heat began dissipating, you noticed that Bucky was still pressing kisses into you skin while murmuring sweet words. Now that your brain was functioning again, you remembered what Bucky had done towards the end.

“Bucky..,” you called his name and he hummed from behind. “Thank you. I was out of it when I asked you to… umm, mark me. But thank you for not actually doing it.” Bucky’s knot still hadn’t gone down so Bucky was spooning you from behind. He turned you around and kissed you sweetly.

“You told me you trusted me. I couldn’t break that trust.” Just these words brought back tears to your eyes. Unlike his appearance, he was the sweetest guy you’d ever met. And you didn’t ever want to lose him under any circumstances.

You believed him and Steve that one day this regime was going to fall. But what after that? Would he leave you? Did he have a lover? “Bucky, do you love someone?” You asked the dreaded question. But no matter what you did, you weren’t prepared for the answer as he whispered back, “Yes.”

~~~

You kept walking around the big hall of the house in circles while anxiously fidgeting with your fingers. You eyes were glued to the door of the house and you were desperately waiting for Bucky’s arrival.

Yesterday, Hydra’s rule had finally fallen, just like Bucky had promised and it was the happiest day of your life. You had danced like an idiot in the house and thrown away the collar. But that had been yesterday, and you still hadn’t heard from Bucky.

In a way you had, the news were flashing photos of Bucky and Steve and lauding them for their bravery and while the fact that Bucky himself was the Winter Soldier was classified for the public, you knew what sacrifices Bucky had done to get this freedom and it brought tears to your eyes.

Bucky had been the one to kill Pierce and the fact was like a soothing balm to your burning ache. The other high ranking alphas had been arrested by now and the law was now looking for the lower rankers who had still committed crimes.

But in all of this, you had no clue where Bucky was. He hadn’t called neither had he visited you. Before he had gone, he had warned you not to leave the house until he came back and you were going to listen to this order. So all you could do in the huge walls of this house, was wait.

Your ears perked up when you heard a car pull up in your driveway and you began running towards the door when you saw it was Bucky. There was a little dried blood on his body and a few bandages as you opened the door and flung yourself into his arms.

Bucky caught you and spun you around as you laughed in joy and freedom. “You’re free!” Bucky shouted as he kept holding you up, not letting you down. “I know and it’s the best feeling in this entire world! Thank you Bucky. Thank you so much!”

You surged up to kiss Bucky and he kissed you like the soldier returning from war that he was, desperate and yet loving. You conveyed the words you couldn’t speak through that kiss. You wanted to scream to the world and tell everyone how much you loved Bucky, but instead you settled on letting him kiss you silly.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need something? Why are you late?” You couldn’t stop your worried self from bombarding him with questions. “I’m fine, really. They patched me up well and I’m okay now. I was late because we had to literally form the whole government in one day and it was very hectic. Though I realise I should’ve at least called you.”

“It’s okay though. You’re good and that’s all I want.” You replied earnestly. “Hmm. Come on, let’s pack our bags.” Bucky replied excitedly as you two walked upstairs and you nodded with enthusiasm. You knew Bucky didn’t own this house, it was given to him by Hydra so you were glad you were going to move out of it.

“Do you know Tony offered me a place to stay?” Bucky asked as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Tony who?” You didn’t get who he was talking about. “Tony stark! The billionaire.” You mouth fell open at Bucky’s words. “Oh my goodness! Tony freaking stark offered you a place to stay? Really? But where? And how? You can’t keep me guessing.”

“There were a lot many of us who were working secretly to throw over hydra, stark was one of us and we called our group the Avengers. So now stark has decided to build a tower where we can all stay and work together. I’m momentarily shifting to a small flat in Brooklyn but I can’t wait to move in with the rest. I’m sure you’ll be dying to go to your house.”

You were giggling with childish excitement until the last sentence. All this time, you had thought you’d move in with Bucky and live with him. But you were suddenly reminded of the cold reality. All the bonding agreements done under Hydra’s jurisdiction were now annulled and that included you and Bucky.

You weren’t mates anymore.

Bucky saw the way your face dropped, “What happened?” He asked sincerely. Of course he was oblivious to your feelings. It had been three months since you’d known Bucky identity and had shared heat, and after that each and every day you fell more and more in love with him.

“Can I hug you?” You wanted to be held by him one last time before you parted your ways. He extended his hands and made grabby gesture. You couldn’t stop the tears as he hugged you tightly. You wished you were lucky enough to get this man’s love.

“Hey! Look at me. Why are you crying bunny?” He titled your chin up to look at him in the eyes. After that night, he always called you bunny now. You shook your head as you wiped the never ending tears with the back of your hands. “Nothing.. I’m just… I’m just gonna miss you.”

You started crying harder when Bucky didn’t say anything back. Instead he just looked at you as if he was given a high volt shock. “You’ll miss me? Really?” His words sounded unbelieving. “Of course I’ll miss you, you idiot. I’ve been here for four months with you, and a pretty alpha like you is hard to forget.”

You were somewhat angry with his for being so oblivious. Like you literally kissed him when he came back and he was still thinking you didn’t like him. You felt a little relieved when Bucky cracked a smile. “I’m glad you think I’m pretty.” He said with a smirk.

“Won’t you miss me?” You asked. Bucky rubbed the tear tracks on your cheek and looked at you with an expression that felt too much like love. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but it felt nice. “I’ll more than just miss you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. “Yeah? What else do you wanna say? Because I think there’s something both of us want to tell but are probably too scared to say it aloud.” You gathered all your courage to say these words. “You’re right. Why don’t we say it together? God, I hope it’s the same thing or you’ll probably kill me.” He joked.

“One…. Two… Three.”

“I love you!”

“I’m in love with you!”

You both said in unison, your words overlapping. You both shouted happily as a happy looked cross both of your faces, it was actually the best day of your life. “I love you so much, bunny. But I thought you didn’t love me back.” He circled his arms around you and pulled you into a kiss. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. But I love you, so so much.”

One moment you were giggling and the next you were on the bed lying under Bucky. You carelessly undressed each other as you smiled and laughed. Bucky was pressing kisses to your face and you’d noted that he loved doing that. You were so glad that Bucky was such an attentive lover.

“Bucky… I want to be your mate.”

Bucky stopped for a minute as he looked down at you before smiling widely, “I want that too. I’ve wanted it for so long now. Thank you.” The way Bucky always felt honoured when you let him do something always boosted your ego. You felt like a goddess whenever you were with him.

“Bite me now Bucky. Make me yours.” You whispered in between wet kisses. You couldn’t wait for the bond to sing in your blood. You went to turn around on your stomach but Bucky stopped you. “I want to see your face as I make you mine.”

His fingers traced your wet folds but this time, you stopped him. “I need you Bucky and I need you now. Please don’t make me wait for I’ve already waited too long.” He spread your legs and settled in between. “Are you sure?” He asked he lined his cock with your weeping entrance.

“More than anything.” He entered you in a single long stroke and your toes curled at the addictive sensation of being so full of Bucky. You placed your hands on his shoulders as he began moving inside you. You both maintained eye contact and you swore you were going to lose yourself into those blue depths.

You pressed kisses on the column of Bucky’s neck and those kisses soon turned into little nibbles. You loved your tongue over it to soothe the flesh and when you pulled back, you realised you’d left a map of marks over his neck. Seeing him marked up because of you, made an intense feeling flare up within you.

You let your hand drift over his cold metal arm until you reached his palm and interlocked your fingers with his. He pushed your hand and held it over your head as you kept squeezing his palm while his flesh hand was settled on your hip as he made love to you.

His thrusts became uncoordinated and soon you felt his knot form at the base. You knew you were close, but you needed a little more. You relished in the way his alpha scent enveloped you as the blockers wore off. And now you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life being comforted by this scent.

“Bucky, please make me yours.”

Bucky grunted and kissed you messily before sucking on your neck. He traced his tongue over your sensitive skin and made sure you were relaxed before he sank his teeth in. You climaxed at the exact moment he claimed you as his.

The feeling was so passionate that you felt the little tug of the strings that connected your soul to Bucky’s. You didn’t know where you ended and where he began, for now you were one entity, bonded forever. In this life and the next.

You felt Bucky cum in you as he achieved his pleasure and this doubled down your sensations. This felt like a perfect moment, one you’d never forget and keep really close to your heart. A serene feeling washed over you and you fluttered your eyes shit to just enjoy the moment.

As usual, Bucky was dotting over you when you came down from the immense high. He was licking over the bonding mark as he purred. When he saw your eyes focus back on him instead of your glassy look, he smiled and kissed you on your lips. You were too lax to respond so you just let him explore your mouth.

“Bucky, remember when I asked you during my last heat if you loved someone and you said yes.. was it me you were talking about?” You mumbled in a post orgasmic haze. “You have a pretty sharp memory. And yes, it was you. I don’t know when exactly but I’ve loved you for a very long time now.”

“Hmmm. Same here.” You replied back. “Wait. I forgot to tell you something.” You got a little worried at Bucky’s serious tone. “What happened?” You tried searching his eyes for any sign of problem. “Oh, don’t get worried bunny, it’s nothing bad, actually it’s something very good.”

“Are you going to stop playing around and tell me what it is!” You playfully slapped your alpha and he chuckled. “Yeah yeah. Actually we are starting a shelter for all the people who suffered through these past few months, especially omegas. And when we were discussing, Steve and I suggested your name. So would you be interested in looking after the project?”

Your eyes twinkled with happiness. You always wanted to help people with a burning passion and this was the best way to go through. By working again, you’d reclaim your own life that you had lost and you’d be able help so many others like you. This opportunity was perfect. “I’d love to Bucky. I’d love to.”

You didn’t know if there was anyone up above writing the pages of your fate. But if there indeed was someone, you’d like to thank them for somehow making you meet Bucky Barnes.