SPILL YOUR GUTS

Stalker

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

WARNINGS: This is somewhat Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes. He doesn’t know how to handle feelings. FLUFF!!! Might be a mini series with 4 parts

Main Masterlist

“I don’t get it, Peter.”

You shake your head to yourself, staring at the battered laces of your shoes. Honestly, the concentration you’re projecting onto your worn out slip-resistant kicks is enough to burn a damn hole through it. You’re well aware that you look foolish, maybe a bit pathetic keeping your head down like this when there’s a full blown party right in front of you, but does that stop you? Do you take the plunge and go around introducing yourself to new people and having a good time? Do you let loose?

No. No, you do not.

Screw letting loose.

And why, you ask?

Well the answer was simple:

You’re simply too afraid to look up.

Keep reading

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” you squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t cease. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and they know what they signed up for when they enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

Pride and Privacy MASTERLIST

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

(18+. Smut, fluff, angst and mentions of violence) (COMPLETED)

◌ Prequel: The Sessions.

◌ Part I : Nightmare.

◌ Part II : Weakness.

◌ Part III : Boundaries.

◌ Part IV : Bruising.

◌ Part V : Promise.

◌ Part VI : Sabotage.

◌ Part VII : Home.

MAIN MASTERLIST

wallpaper

summary: bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 1000

warnings: fluff, nonspecific friends to lovers, this was just a dumb idea i had

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The first time Bucky changed the wallpaper on your phone, it was an accident - kind of. He sat on your couch, lazily scrolling through the photos of Alpine you insisted he looked at, because you simply couldn’t resist having a Halloween photoshoot with her while he was off on yet another mission, leaving her in your trusting hands. He was happy you were in the kitchen, because he would never let you see the smile he wore as he browsed the album, chuckling silently to himself over how elaborate these photos were. His mood swiftly changed when he swiped incorrectly, an array of different options suddenly presenting themselves to him. He swore under his breath as he tried to make them go away, but he only made it worse as the option to change your wallpaper came up. With an annoyed huff, he just kept tapping, figuring that eventually he would get it back to how it was. After a few more grueling seconds, he sighed in relief as he was once more face to face with Alpine sitting inside a jack-o-lantern candy bucket - how was he supposed to know that photo was now both your lockscreen and homescreen?

“Did you change my lockscreen?” you curiously asked when you finally sat back down beside him, taking your phone and checking it for any new messages.

“Did I what?” he asked in confusion, his head snapping up from his own phone to look at you with a scrunched brow. 

You could only laugh lightly, turning your phone to display the new photo brandishing your screen. The second Bucky saw it, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as his face flushed ever so slightly. 

“I, uh- sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, your phone is just - it’s different than mine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly, your chuckles growing into more laughter as you realized it was also your homescreen. “It’s okay, Buck,” you assured softly, laughing quietly as you changed the photos back to their precursors. “It could have been worse, at least it’s not an embarrassing photo or something.” 

You were too busy fixing his mistake to notice the glint that sparkled in his eyes, a smirk growing on his face as your words gave him the most incredible idea he’s had in a while. 

The second time Bucky changed your wallpaper, it was very much not an accident. You left him your phone so he could look at the photos you took on your latest trip, unpacking your bags as he split his attention between listening to your stories and scrolling through a seemingly endless array of new pictures - which he truthfully enjoyed, but he was on a secret mission for the perfect, nondescript one to choose. 

“Again, Buck?” you giggled, flopping on the bed beside him as you took your phone back. 

“What?” he asked, just innocent and clueless enough to not raise any flags. 

“You and your fat thumbs, I swear,” you mumbled under your breath, changing the photos back once more, completely oblivious to his proud little smirk.

It took three more times for you to suspect that Bucky had started doing it on purpose, but your suspicions weren’t proven correct until he took a photo of you to display.

“Did you- when- really?” you stammered as you looked between him and your phone, half annoyed and half impressed because when did he even take this photo? 

He only grinned in response, laughing about how long he was able to do it under the pretense of it being an accident before running away in a fit of giggles, dodging the pillow you threw after him.

From that moment on, it became a game for him. 

Any opportunity that presented itself, Bucky snatched your phone and changed your displays to the most embarrassing and ridiculous photos of yourself.

A sunset was changed to you mid-sneeze. Alpine was changed to you post-nap. You partying with the gang was changed to an extreme close up of your face in that very photo. Louisiana docks were changed to you mid rant as you yelled at him to give you your phone back. A cherry blossom was changed to you passed out on the couch, wrapped up in a hoodie you stole from him and drooling all over the sleeve of it. 

As time went on, you stopped being surprised whenever it happened, and you grew to enjoy it. It was a silly thing, but it was a silly thing that only you and Bucky shared. It was a special thing, a cherished thing. It was your favourite thing.

Neither of you realized how the dynamic between the two of you started morphing into something else right in front of your very eyes. It was slow. It was gradual and complex and delicate and went unnoticed for almost a whole year. 

It was only noticed now, as Bucky took the opportunity to grab your phone as you slept soundly against his chest. It had been a while since he was able to get a chance to do this, and so he eagerly unlocked your phone, already running through different ideas of what picture to use. 

He was caught off guard when the picture staring back at him was from a few weeks ago. It was the day you finally convinced him to let you drive his bike after months of endless asking. It was a photo neither of you knew Sam took until later that night, when he sent it to both of you. 

It was you, sat in front of him on the bike and wrapped up in his arms, one securely planted on either side of you as his hands rested on yours, guiding you through everything as you both gleefully laughed at the fact that you actually managed to convince him to do this. 

For once, Bucky didn’t have the heart to change it. 

He couldn’t. 

It was his wallpaper, too. 

EDDIE X READER - ONGOING

The start of your senior year had you rethinking everything your life had been thus far. It’s as if you woke up one day and decided it was time to do a complete 180. Maybe it was the senioritis that teachers joked about, or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, but either way, you realized that maybe you didn’t like the life you’d been living anymore. So, you decide to change it. You just didn’t factor in Eddie Munson being part of that equation.

notes & tropes: 18+, fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers

fic inspo & refs | fic playlist | also on ao3 | author info, etc

chapter list

⛧ one ⛧ two ⛧ three ⛧ four ⛧ five ⛧ six ⛧ seven ⛧ eight ⛧ nine ⛧ ten ⛧ eleven ⛧ twelve ⛧ thirteen

Rockstar!Eddie who hears you singing one of Corroded Coffin's demo songs (he always brings them to you for the first listen and approval) in the shower, and secretly records the audio of it on his phone. The next time he brings you the fully completed song, it starts with the soft and sweet sounds of your voice before launching into the usual heavy guitar-lead music you're familiar with.

"Eddie, is that...? When did you record this?"

"Overheard you in the shower, babe. I thought you sounded so pretty and I knew this song was missing something, turns out it just needed your beautiful voice to make it perfect."

play-by-play | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

summary: you can’t stop posting live updates of the civil war

warnings: avenger!reader, fox shifter!reader, comedy, chaotic dumbass reader, grumpy bucky, the team is so done with reader’s shit, mentions of bucky’s past, swearing, civil war tension?, reader is team cap, suggestive content, fluff

a/n: guess who’s back bitches!!! this isn’t a request or anything, i just wanted to write some cw!bucky x reader. i promise i’m working on all the joaquin requests🤞🏻anyways enjoy lovelies :)

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: sokovia accords?? ho what?!]

story replies

user1: lmao

user2: girl get over it🙄

user3: y’all need to be kept in check….

steverogers: y/n delete this

user4: you’re so real for this

jamesrhodes: 🤦🏿‍♂️🤦🏿‍♂️

liked by wandamaximoff, samwilson, mariahill, and others

yourusername: throwback to that time my future husband almost killed my friends and i

tagged: @/steverogers @/samwilson @/natasharomanoff

view comments below

user5: GIRL WHAT?!

wandamaximoff: so that’s the guy you keep bringing up👀😲

user6: ho is that the winter soldier???

user7: wait a damn min—

user8: THE WINTER SOLDIER?!?!

user9: i don’t think y/n is okay…

user10: girl we been knew

steverogers: please stop calling bucky your future husband

user11: 😭😭

user12: y/n really out here tryna date cap’s brainwashed bestie from the forties

user13: honestly bucky barnes is so hot tho

samwilson: can your future husband stop leading us on a wild goose chase🙄

yourusername: that would be nice😔

user14: lmaoooooo

steverogers: please stop encouraging her, sam

user15: i’m convinced y/n was dropped on the head as a baby

yourusername: bold of you to assume i was held

user16: i—

user17: girl are you okayyyyy????

yourusername: don’t ask stupid questions

steverogers: this is why tony and i tried to get you to go to therapy🤦🏼‍♂️

natasharomanoff: when did you even have time to take these pics??

yourusername: uhhhhhhh

yourusername: so i may or may not have had time to prevent you getting shot….

natasharomanoff: …

nastasharomanoff: i hate you

liked by samwilson, natasharomanoff, sharoncarter, and others

yourusername: rip peggy carter but sam and i are slaying

tagged: @/samwilson

view comments below

user18: HELLOOOOO?????

user19: peggy carter: slayed. sam and y/n? SLAYED

user20: 😭😭

user21: OH MY GOD😭

sharoncarter: it’s what she would have wanted😔✊

yourusername: pouring one out for a legend😔✊

user22: peggy so would have wanted this!!😭

user23: omg i’m crying

user24: THIS is how i find out?!

samwilson: i would like everyone to know that cowboy hat did wonders for me

yourusername: save a horse, ride a cowboy

yourusername: except it’s more save a horse, ride a bird?

user25: y/n what😭

steverogers: i don’t even know what to say right now…

user26: rip to a real one

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: HUBBY NO!!!!]

story replies

steverogers: y/n…..🤦🏼‍♂️

user27: so sorry babes…..

user28: rip✊

natasharomanoff: y/n. people are dead….

user29: girl, stop simping for a literal terrorist

user30: this is not it….

liked by sharoncarter, samwilson, clintbarton, and others

yourusername: my pookie and i have been reunited🥰❤️

view comments below

samwilson: awwww…..fuck your husband

yourusername: i’m trying….

user31: 😳😭

user32: y/n😭😭

user33: why the winter soldier kinda….

user34: frfr👀

user35: he’s a literal terrorist. what is wrong with you people!

user36: still hot🤷‍♀️

user37: convinced y/n has like a dash cam on her harness or smth bc….

steverogers: why do i even bother🙄

user38: cap’s face😭😭

user39: watched the chase on the news, you hopping onto barnes’ back to get off the building was hilarious😭

user40: omg i saw thattttt

user41: and when he just tossed her to the side after by picking her up by the scruff😭😭

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: the fucking audacity these bitches have…]

story replies

user42: awwwww

user43: why didn’t you just shift back😭😭

samwilson: deserved

yourusername: 🖕

natasharomanoff: they leashed you???

jamesrhodes: saving this for blackmail purposes

user44: why do you look so happy tho😭

yourusername: saw the love of my life

liked by jamesrhodes, natasharomanoff, tonystark, and others

yourusername: papa y papa are fighting and my love is locked up😔

view comments below

natasharomanoff: WE TOOK YOUR PHONE??

natasharomanoff: what is this sorcery

yourusername: 🤭🤗

user45: sad day to be y/n…

user46: y/n is a child of divorce😔😭

tonystark: stop posting pictures of secure government buildings

yourusername: *bugs bunny ‘no’ gif*

user47: bucky barnes committed regicide and has murdered countless people…

user47: he deserves to be locked up

user48: wrong account to say this to babes

user49: you act like the bitch cares

user50: frrrr….y/n is horrible too

user51: she should be locked up too imo

sharoncarter: king t’challa keeps looking like he’s a second away from murdering you…

yourusername: i have that effect on people

user52: 😭😭

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: pookilicious is evil again😔😩]

story replies

tonystark: A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE

natasharomanoff: GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE

samwilson: i hate this bitch so much….

user53: those thighs tho👀😩

user54: GIRL RUN!!!

liked by wandamaximoff, scottlang, samwilson, and others

yourusername: abouta fight, kinda nervous👉🏻👈🏻

tagged: @/steverogers @/samwilson @/clintbarton @/wandamaximoff @/scottlang

view comments below

user56: we really made this girl an avenger😭

steverogers: bucky would like you to stop taking pictures of him

user57: 😭😭

yourusername: tell him to talk to me to the face then, bitch

samwilson: language!

clintbarton: language!

wandamaximoff: language!

user58: you still a criminal🤷‍♀️

user59: hope you get arrested😘

user60: team whatever team ends up with y/n and bucky barnes getting married

[liked by yourusername]

clintbarton: so this is why nat’s been complaining nonstop over text about you….

scottlang: great to meet you!

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: weird spider kid beat these bitches asses]

story replies

samwilson: you’re insufferable🖕

user61: men doing men things: manspreading

user62: they look so done….

scottlang: oh shit, bird and scary dude are down!

user63: love how you always have time to update us😭😭

liked by scottlang, peterparker, wandamaximoff, and others

yourusername: 🎶everybody was kung fu fighting🎶

view comments below

steverogers: the least you could do is get a good pic of me….

user64: poor guy has given up trying to stop y/n😭

user65: 🎶kung fu fighting🎶

user66: 🎶those cats were fast as lightning🎶

user67: 🎶in fact it was a little bit frightening🎶

scottlang: 🎶but they fought with expert timing🎶

user68: omg hawkeye!!!

user69: why’s the spider got cap’s shield😱

user70: scarlet witch deserves to be locked up for lagos!!

natasharomanoff: i don’t know how you of all people managed to escape….

yourusername: ☺️🤗

yourusername added to their story -->

[caption: little guy can be big guy!!]

story replies

peterparker: big guy big guy big guy—

user71: omg ant-man?!

user72: holy shit….

user73: the duplicity of scott lang🤭

hopepym: well….that’s new

liked by natasharomanoff, tchallaudaku, peterparker, and others

yourusername: siberia is cold

tagged: @/steverogers @/buckybarnes

view comments below

user74: slay queen💅

natasharomanoff: d-did you make barnes an instagram???

yourusername: had a spare phone and was bored on the flight

buckybarnes: i have never met someone who can talk as much as you…

yourusername: awwww i love you too hubby!!

user75: egypt is hot

user76: usa is room temp

peterparker: man this is better than my footage!

user77: not y/n making the WINTER SOLDIER an instagram😭😭

liked by samwilson, scottlang, peterparker, and others

yourusername: my dads broke up and pookie lost his arm but it’s ok bc i got mcds😌

view comments below

user78: #rip stony 2016😔✊

user79: GIRL RIP THE AVENGERS?!

user80: avengers: 2012-2016😢

buckybarnes: i LOST my ARM

yourusername: you’d think you’d be used to it but noooooo

buckybarnes: IT WAS MY FUCKING ARM????

samwilson: the raft fucking sucks bestie

yourusername: i’m so sorry bestie

user81: i’m literally speechless rn…

user82: the winter soldier being framed WAS NOT on my 2016 bingo card😭😭

user83: frfr

user84: say sike rn

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: damn this place is nice]

story replies

steverogers: we’re literal fugitives y/n

user85: i-is that fucking wakanda?!?

buckybarnes: i’m not getting rid of you anytime soon am i?

yourusername: nope!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~two years later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by buckybarnes, steverogers, samwilson, and others

yourusername: stuck for life🤍🥂

tagged: @/buckybarnes

view comments below

buckybarnes: wouldn’t have it any other way, doll

user86: omg omg omg!!!!!!!!

samwilson: prettiest flower girl by the way!

user87: STOP😭😭

user88: you’re literally glowing🫶🏻

user89: congrats!!!

natasharomanoff: you see, this is an appropriate post

user90: y/n is the manifester of all manifesters…

steverogers: i can’t believe i just witnessed my best friend get married….

tonystark: lovely wedding. only critique is the groom

yourusername: 🖕

user91: 😭😭

user92: oh my god😭

steverogers: tony i swear to god—

clintbarton: language!

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

Defenseless in Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: You've been friends with Sam for a while and you've trained with him here and there but never really got to the point where you feel you could properly defend yourself and when you ask him to teach you self-defense his new job as Captain America makes him a little less available so he directs you to his friend Bucky.

Author's Note: I always loved the thought of Bucky teaching us to be badass and even though he's lethal he's gentle and patient and wonderful! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of fluff and flirty things and tension and a minor (totally fine) injury, soft Bucky

 “Why me?”

“Why not you?” Sam raises a brow, setting his hands on his hips.

Bucky remains quiet with a shake of his head.

“She doesn’t want to take a class. Says it makes her uncomfortable and she would rather train one on one with someone she trusts.”

“Then you do it,” Bucky sighs.

“I can’t.”

Bucky pins Sam with an incredulous glare.

“I’m kinda busy at the moment,” Sam explains with a lopsided smirk. “You know…Captain America and all.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens and he mindlessly stirs the spoon in his coffee.

“How do you know I won’t make her uncomfortable?”

The words are quietly spoken, and Bucky’s eyes stay fixed on the dark liquid in front of him.

“Buck,” Sam says softly. “I told her I was going to ask you to do it and that I trust you completely.”

Bucky looks up to meet Sam’s eyes.

“She was fine with it. She said, ‘if you trust him then I do too.’”

He’s tall, with tousled dark hair and a strong jaw covered with dark stubble. He stands and waits, his arms crossed over his torso in a way that makes the muscles in his chest and forearms shift deliciously. And his eyes…his eyes are a shade of blue that rivals the ocean. They’re gorgeous-like the rest of him.

Taking a deep breath, you remove yourself from the hidden shadows just outside the gym door and grab the handle.

His head snaps in your direction, his gaze turning fully on you and making your heart skip a beat.

He says your name; his voice is low and gravelly, and it skates down your spine with a tingle. You nod and say hello.

“I was wondering how long you were going to stand out there.”

You suck in a breath and your lips remain parted.

“First lesson,” he continues, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, “always be aware of your surroundings.”

“Right,” you manage to say as you step inside and let the door shut.

An hour later, after stretching and taking the time to talk through any jitters you’re standing in front of Bucky in your best defensive stance.

“That’s really the best you’ve got?” he says, his tone neither mocking or malicious.

“I’m more dangerous than you think,” you bluster.

The corners of his mouth rise into a challenging smirk.

You hate how beautiful he is. It’s a distraction and if you really want to learn you’re going to have to steel yourself against it.

He wiggles his fingers in your direction, and you pause.

“Shouldn’t you be attacking me first?” you ask. “Isn’t that why I need to learn to defend myself…you know self-defense.”

“I just want to see what I’m working with here,” he replies, keeping those perfect lips titled upward.

You let out a long exhale and rush toward him, barely able to register what happens before you’re wrapped in his arms, your back pressed tightly to his chest. You struggle in his grip, moving against him to try and loosen his hold.

He goes still and you swear he stops breathing for a heartbeat before he let’s you go.

You spin and face him again, breathing heavily and not from exertion. This time he moves toward you, and holy shit he’s fast. You try to swipe his feet out from under him in a move that he artfully dodges and captures your arm. The earth spins and you brace for the impact of your back smacking the mat but instead all you feel is the strength of his arms behind you as he holds you up and slowly lets you sink down. He leans down so his face is only inches from yours, “you’re strong,” he whispers, “but you’re gonna need more finesse.”

You huff in response, but he releases you and stands, offering you a hand. “We’re not done yet. We’ve barely gotten started.”

He tugs you to your feet, then twists your arm behind your back and yanks you against his hard chest, pinning your joined hands before you even catch your balance.

“Shit,” you snap, trying to steady your breathing.

He releases your hand and steps back and you whirl, going for a punch to his throat. He knocks your hand aside easily.

“Good,” he says with a smile, deflecting your next blow without even breaking a sweat. “Going for the throat is always a good option as long as it’s exposed.”

You kick out again, mostly from frustration, and he captures your leg, this time, holding it for a second before dropping it to the mat with a frown. “I expect you to learn from your mistakes.”

Your frustration turns to fury, and you glare at him, noting the way he stands there with loose arms, rocking back on his heels.

“You’re not even trying,” you grit out.

His lips curve into a smile and this time you don’t think, you just act, going low and kicking out the backs of his knees. He goes down hard, and you pounce, trying for a headlock. Doesn’t matter how big someone is- they still need to breathe.

Instead of going for your arms, he twists, grabbing a hold of the backs of your thighs so you lose your leverage and your bodies careen into a roll. Of course, he lands on top.

His forearm rests against your throat and his hips have you pinned; your legs useless on either side of his as he lies heavily between your thighs. Your body becomes so acutely aware of him that he’s all you can feel. Your breath catches and your body warms.

“Where did you learn that move?” he asks with an approving smile.

Your chin lifts. “Sam taught me a few things here and there.”

“If your opponent is bigger you need to stop going for moves that will expose you,” he explains, keeping you pressed to the mat with his weight. “A rib shot would work just fine.” He gently pulls your hand free and drags your fingertips down his side. Then he guides your hands around his back. “Kidneys are a good fit from this angle too.”

You swallow hard, refusing to let your mind wander to other things that are a good fit in this position.

He leads your hands to his waist and you’re sure you feel the muscles of his abdominals tense under your touch. “There’s weakness here too. Three easy places to strike.”

You stare at him, your fingers still pressed against his shirt and feeling the hardness beneath.

“You hear me doll?”

You nod.

“This looks promising,” Sam says with a mischievous tone.

You’re suddenly reminded of your surroundings and the realization of your current entanglement with Bucky makes your skin heat.

“Sam!” you say as you try and get out from under Bucky.

Bucky presses up from the mat a few inches and then slides your hand away from his side, slowly, inch by inch.

“That’s it?” you ask, surprised at the disappointment you feel.

“I hate to break it up, but I need Bucky,” Sam says.

Bucky pushes up all the way, removing his weight from your body and offering you another hand. You don’t take it this time and rise from the mat with ease. His approving smile makes you feel warm all the way down to your toes.

Sam’s smile is wide and knowing but you ignore it, focusing on Bucky.

“I’ll be right there Wilson,” Bucky says, the short dismissal enough to get Sam to give you two privacy.

“You did well,” Bucky says, filling the space in front of you.

Your head drops and you scoff, kicking at some invisible object on the mat. Warm, strong fingers press gently under your chin and raise your face until your eyes lock with ocean blue.

“You did,” he says again.

“Thanks,” you whisper, mourning the loss of his fingers when he drops his hand.

“I’ll be more organized next time…if you want to do this again.”

“I do,” you answer quickly. “I want to feel safe. And strong.”

Bucky nods. “You will doll.”

The next week you’re back at the gym, feeling more confident and even more comfortable. After your first session you and Bucky exchanged phone numbers, the text messages flowing easily between you the past few days. This time you open the door without hesitation and find Bucky leaning against the far wall, cutting the pieces off a plum with a knife. His eyes lift and lock with yours just as he opens his mouth to pop a bite in.

Your entire body tingles.

He didn’t lie when he said he’d be more prepared and organized for this session. He works you through some stretches and a warmup and then takes you through several take downs step by step, each one building on the next. You’re moving faster and even getting a few hits in here and there. The confidence fuels you and coupled with some adrenaline you really push yourself, pressing Bucky to work you harder.

He does but when you try something new, something he wasn’t anticipating, you end up ramming your ribs into his metal forearm. It’s completely by accident but knocks the wind out of you nonetheless and you fall to your knees to catch your breath.

“Shit doll,” Bucky says, falling down next to you and grabbing your shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

You wheeze out an “I’m ok,” and when you look up to reassure him, the lines of worry etched into his features make it even harder to breathe.

“Let me see,” he says, the panic in his eyes softening your own before he looks down at your side.

“I’m fine,” you say.

His focus snaps back to your eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

“It hurts,” you admit after a stuttered inhale.

“Let me see,” he says again.

“Is that a request or a demand?” you ask, trying to sound teasing.

“You pick as long as I can check to see how bad it is.”

You swallow, then nod, reaching for the hem of your shirt. He stops you with a soft hand and then with surprising gentleness his fingers skim your bare skin as he slowly lifts your shirt. You suppress a shiver, locking your muscles so you don’t melt against him.

“Sorry if my hands are cold,” he says, clearing his throat as more of your skin is exposed.

Your eyes meet and warmth flutters in your stomach. He drops his eyes and inspects your side, gentle fingers stroking your ribs before they prod carefully.

“You’re gonna have one hell of a bruise doll. I really am sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong and thanks for checking.”

He drags your shirt back down, letting his knuckles graze you skin in the process. He waits for you to stand, watching you closely and letting out a relieved exhale when he notices your breathing is more even.

Your eyes widen when he drops to his knees in front of you. “Your shoe is untied.”

“Oh.”

Your hands twitch at your sides, his long, soft strands of hair at the perfect level for you to run your fingers through.

“Thank you.”

He gives you a real smile, not a cocky smirk or a teasing tilt to his lips. A real, honest, heart-stopping smile that you’re anything but immune to.

“It’s the least I could do after…that.”

“Not your fault Bucky,” you assure him again. “It happened by complete accident.”

Bucky texts you at least forty-seven times over the next week, constantly checking in and asking about your ribs. But you’re still surprised when the day before you’re next session he calls, asking if you want to meet for breakfast beforehand.

“This place has the best coffee. And muffins. And scones,” he says as he holds the door open for you.

You laugh and walk through, instantly soothed by the smell of coffee beans and baked goods. “And you know this because you’ve tried them all of course.”

“Of course,” he says while rubbing his stomach.

Your eyes track the movement and you’re positive you can see ridges of muscles beneath his shirt. It takes all your concentration to tear your gaze away and focus on the menu. After ordering your drinks and two of everything baked you head for your seats.

You try it all and let Bucky eat the rest, marveling at how he packs it away and doesn’t even seem fazed.

“I wish I could eat like that and look like you.”

The comment comes out before you can stop it, and your eyes widen slightly when they meet his narrowed ones.

“You look perfect,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Eat whatever you want. You’re gonna need the energy today.”

He gives you one of his signature teasing smirks and you stand. “Bring it on Barnes!”

The walk to the gym is short but the weather is warm, and you can feel a light sheen of sweat coating the back of your neck. The hot coffee you’re drinking doesn’t help either but it’s too good to not finish.

He holds the door open for you and then walks in, sipping his coffee as he goes. You bend over to retrieve something from your bag, and he takes a misstep, his focus on your ass instead of where he’s going.

With a tumble forward his coffee follows suit, his momentum forcing the liquid out of the cup and onto his shirt. He catches himself before he looks like a complete fool, but the damage is done. His shirt is soaked through on the front with the last of his coffee.

“AH shit,” he sighs, pulling the wet material from his stomach.

“What happened?” you ask, your brows furrowed as you turn toward him. “Did you trip?”

“Um…yeah, something like that,” he says. “I have to change.”

He reaches behind his back and starts to lift his shirt, slowly revealing tanned skin that’s all sharp lines and barely restrained power. You’ve seen shirtless men before. Many times. But never Bucky Barnes. You’d start counting his ab muscles if the rest of him wasn’t just as good to look at. Your mouth waters when he turns around and you see the muscled expanse of his back. Even the gold and gray metal plates of his arm move beautifully as he searches for a new shirt.

“Sam usually keeps some stuff stashed in here,” Bucky says.

You think you heard what he said but you’re shamelessly wondering how his skin would feel under your fingertips, how your body would react to having every ounce of him on top of you, over you…in…”

The slam of the small storage door draws your attention downward, and you shake your head to snap out of it.

“Ready?” he asks, a new shirt securely in place.

You walk to the mat and wait.

“Are you sure you’re not still in any pain…?”

“Bucky,” you sigh. “I’m really ok. I have been for days. I appreciate your concern but I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to be able to work through pain sometimes. I don’t think anyone who attacks me will care if I’m injured…”

“You’re right,” he says, pride shining in his eyes. “Let’s go…but first…”

You watch with rapt admiration as he pulls several hidden knives free, his smile growing when he takes the last one out from his boot.

“I want you to learn how to use a weapon. You can carry it with you…just in case.”

He hands you the blade and you hold it in your open palm, noticing the weight of it and how the handle seems just right.

“Wow,” is all you can think to say.

“I had it made for you,” he explains. “Most blades are made for men…you know, big hands, long fingers.”

As if to drive his point home he splays his hand in front of you, showing off just how big and long they can be.

“Right,” you whisper. “I don’t know what to say…thank you Bucky.”

He smiles again. “Now let me teach you how to use it.”

Before you can prepare or react he has you on your back, his weight settled between your thighs. It takes all your willpower not to reach up and brush the stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“You didn’t even give me a heads up,” you whisper, leaning up slightly and letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He jerks up, and the heat in his gaze makes you all too aware of everywhere your bodies are touching.

“You know…” he says, his eyes glittering, “distraction is a great way to do some damage.”

His eyes drop to your mouth.

“Are you distracted?” you murmur.

Before he can answer you use a move he taught you and roll him on to his back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you sing song.

His eyes meet yours under the fluorescent lights of the gym before dropping to your lips. His metal arm slides up your back, but not in a way to remove you, it’s slow and purposeful for a completely different reason. You can feel the warmth of his touch through your clothing, your skin unbearably hot.

When you shudder in his arms his smile is like a caress and his free hand moves to your cheek, brushing across your skin.

“You have incredibly soft skin,” he murmurs. “I’ve been aching to feel it again since I checked your ribs.”

The admission makes you suck in a breath, and he studies you with an intensity that makes you sway closer. His thumbs stroke along your cheekbones and his heated gaze moves to your mouth. Hands flexing, he draws you forward a few inches before he stops.

“I…” he starts, groaning when your tongue traces your lower lip.

“Bucky.” His name comes out like a whispered plea and it’s all he needs to close the distance. He was just out of reach and now his mouth is on yours, hot and insistent. He cradles the back of your head, trapping you against him as he lays on the mat and you feel every hard line of his body. You clutch the material of his shirt at his chest, parting your lips when he angles your head for a deeper kiss.

“Fuck baby,” he moans, and the sound makes you ravenous. Your hands lift to his hair and it’s just as soft as imagined, your nails scraping lightly over his scalp.

His hips tilt upward, and you gasp at the friction but it’s not enough and in a move that rivals all the others you’ve seen him do he flips you onto your back, the impact so soft you gasp into his mouth. You surrender completely, going pliant beneath him as he claims every line and curve of your mouth with a reckless edge that makes your body sing. He breaks the kiss, sliding his mouth across your jaw, your neck, whispering words of praise as he explores every inch of your skin his lips can find.

The sound of the gym door startles you enough to pull away, but your eyes never leave Bucky’s and when you hear Sam’s voice you let out a giggle.

“You look like you’re…defending yourself well,” Sam says from above you.

“Your timing sucks,” Bucky sighs. “And she could have totally handed me my ass right now if she wanted to.” He smiles down at you with a wink.

Sam pulls Bucky away once again but before he leaves he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth then one to your lips, lingering until Sam starts shouting from the doorway. Later that night you get a text from Bucky-‘I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again.’

You read the words over and over again as your body continuously reminds you exactly what it feels like to have his mouth on yours. Your stomach flutters and you actually press a flattened palm against it, hoping to calm the eruption of butterflies.

After washing up and throwing on some pjs you’re just about to spend the rest of your night watching something streaming on Netflix when you hear a knock at your apartment door. You check the time. It’s late and you’re not expecting anyone…maybe it’s your neighbor?

Standing on your tippy toes you check the peep hole and barely stifle your gasp of surprise.

“I’m glad you checked to see who it was first,” Bucky says when you swing the door open. “That’s part of smart self-defense.”

You stare at his face, then the flowers in his hand, then back at his face.

“Is it too late? Were you asleep?”

His eyes fill with worry but before you let him fret too long you grab his free hand and drag him into your apartment, slamming the door shut and pushing him against it. Without a word you kiss him, softly at first, just a brush of your lips, but he instantly takes over, resting the flowers on the small table by the door and taking you in his arms, spinning you and caging you with your back to the door.

“You always get the upper hand,” you smile against his lips.

“Better get used to it,” he teases, resting his metal hand next to your head as he leans back in, letting his eyes do a warm sweep of your body from head to toe.

“You look magnificent,” he murmurs.

“I’m in my pajamas.” Your reply comes out breathless.

His fingers drops to your shoulder, tracing the soft curve before ghosting down your arm and sliding to where the hem of your tank sits just above your shorts.

“Magnificent,” he repeats, slipping one finger under the material to touch your skin. “And So. Fucking. Soft.”  

“Bucky,” you whisper.

“I know doll,” he says, “but I need to take my time…I want to get my hands and mouth on every inch of you.”

I call him Joey, just to feel something

so there we go.

Eddie Munson fanfiction (updated 29 December 2024)

Only Now - 18+ angst, lil smutty Summary: Eddie needs time off from fame, touring, fans, groupies - it all eats him alive and makes him something else if he’s not careful. He needs Hawkins, needs his old friends, needs you to ground him, so he visits every couple of months. It’s the middle of December when he stops by for a few days and lets all of you pretend you’re momentarily back in ’88, and it’s beautiful, but it hurts. A lot.  Wordcount: 9.5K

Over Now - 18+ angst, lil smutty Summary: A sequel to “Only Now” in which you have moved away from Hawkins which, you find out fast enough, is something you should have done much sooner. When Eddie comes to visit Hawkins once more, and you're not there? Oof. Wordcount: 9.6K

Then Again - 18+ angst, lil smutty Summary: This part follows “Only Now” and “Over Now”. Since your last visit, Eddie spiraled, and Eddie spiraled hard. An exciting event brings all of you, the whole gang, back into a room together and even though time has passed, and everyone seems to have moved on… have you? Wordcount: 9.8K

Never Over - 18+ angst Summary: This is the fourth installment of this story, following “Only Now”, “Over Now” and “Then Again”. You agreed to have coffee with Eddie, because Eddie needs to speak to you. Sure, he wrote that letter, but he needs to have an actual conversation. You do, and then, afterwards, it sort of… all just, goes to shit. Wordcount: 10.7K

--- Not Enough - 18+ angst Summary: Eddie’s hauled you off to LA because, turns out, when you’re not throwing your life away on booze and drugs, opportunities tend to lead to more opportunities. LA’s amazing, and Eddie’s amazing, and suddenly life is all about sun-freckles and exciting accomplishments but… something’s missing. Wordcount: 5.2K

One More - 18+ angst Summary: Steve’s there, in LA, and something’s terribly wrong. Instead of being the adults that you are, you decide it’s more fun to pretend to be twenty-one again, but… Eddie’s not as amused. Wordcount: 5.3K

That's It - 18+ fluff mostly, mentions of smut Summary: Steve is there to stay, and you fall into a new routine together, the three of you, old buddies back to their old ways. Except, no, this is actually nothing like your old ways, is it? Wordcount: 6.2K

No Regrets - 18+ angsty, fluffy, lil smutty Summary: Steve’s figuring it out, and Eddie flies Robin in to help. To speak some sense into the ether, to be the true voice of reason that you all need. Some things just come in threes, don’t they? Wordcount: 4.7K

---

Let's Go Home - angsty, hurt/comfort Summary: It's getting close to Christmas, and Eddie finds himself in a seasonal depression that feels different. Worse. Unfixable. You do what you can to help, some measures more drastic than others. Wordcount: 6.2K

-> full masterlist ♥ -> back to home ♥

SPILL YOUR GUTS

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

practice boyfriend! eddie x fem! reader

summary: eddie’s your practice boyfriend. you’re positive he’s upset at you and you’re waiting for him to get mad. however, he has a different response in mind.

cw: references/allusions to past child abuse but extremely vague, references/allusions to bad relationships (also pretty vague), reader acts on a learned response and assumes the worst about Eddie, anxiety

tags/tropes: angst, hurt/comfort (my brand!) sappy sappy romantic idiots, they kiss and figure their mess out at the end

a/n: this came to me in a vision

summary makes this sound smutty but i promise it’s not. this accidentally became disgustingly romantic. read at your own risk :)

࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re positive Eddie’s mad at you.

Okay. Maybe positive is a strong word. But still.

You’ve only been fake/pretend/practice dating Eddie for about two weeks now. He’s the one who approached you with the offer— when you were in the Upside Down together, you’d made an off-hand comment about how you might die without ever having a real boyfriend- not one that mattered, anyway. It’s always kind of been a sore spot for you for a good portion of your life. Growing up, you didn’t really have the best relationship with your dad (Robin likes to call that “The understatement of the year, and we almost died.”) and out of the incredibly small handful of guys you’ve gone out with, none stuck around longer than a month and all ended in such equally, specifically, and uniquely horrific ways, you finally came to the conclusion you had to be fucking something up. What are the chances of all them ended so completely horribly?

After you all had decidedly not died in the Upside Down, Eddie approached you with an offer: pretend date him. You’re popular and well known enough that it’ll help get people off his back about the whole Chrissy/murders thing —even though he’s been absolved of all charges, the people of Hawkins hold grudges— and in exchange, you get a trial run of a relationship that won’t end unless you both agree too— you get to figure out what you’re doing wrong.

You feel bad about it, because even though you spend so much time together, you feel like a nervous wreck. All. The. Time.

You’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop— waiting for him to tell you that you’re too weird, that you’re not considerate enough, that you’re selfish, or that you talk too much.

But he never says any of it. All he ever tells you is the good things. He tells you how sympathetic you are, how kind you are, how good you are at remembering little details that matter. He tells you that you’re a good kisser.

(Yeah. Your first kiss, even after those failed relationships, ended up being with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You’re not quite sure you’ll ever forget how you felt when his lips —just a little cracked, but not rough— met yours; when his hair tickled your face and you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clings to all of his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them. You didn’t tell him he was your first. That’s something you decided you couldn’t bear to share.

You kind of have a feeling he knows anyway, though.)

It all sets you on edge. You’re under no reassurance that you’re perfect. You’re currently questioning if you’re tolerable, from a romantic standpoint.

You know how you are. You’re clinging and you drink up reassurance like a dying man in the desert. You linger in his casual touches like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever feel them. You know you’re a lot. You know. You know that guys in a relationship don’t want ‘a lot’, they want a pretty thing to hang off their arm and laugh at what they say.

But you just… can’t.

You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But you always ended up being too much, or it didn’t work out for some other reason. You want more. You want to feel safe, and happy, and cherished and loved and all those things that only happen in the movies.

The ironic part of all of this is that when you first started setting out terms for your arrangement, Eddie had told you flat out: “This will only work if you are completely and one-hundred percent yourself. You gotta lay it all on me, angel.”

And so you had, and now you regret it because he’s upset about something.

You’d come over to his trailer at his request to ‘hang out’ while he went over DND stuff for his next campaign. Eddie does this a lot— he calls them ‘Neutral Dates’ where you’re not really doing anything in particular- most of the time, you’re both doing seperate things, but still just being in each other’s presence.

It’s nice. The majority of your friend circle consists of everyone involved with the Upside Down and that entire mess. You two are no Steve and Robin (you’re convinced those two have the kind of bond no one can replicate or break. Like the kind of bond stray cats get and then they have to be adopted together) but it’s still nice. To just be with someone.

Even if you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

It’s not always eggshells. Sometimes, for a a few moments, you forget. You forget it’s all pretend. You forget he’s just a friend helping a friend fulfill a goal. That’s all.

You’ve almost forgotten just now, too— you’re too concerned about what you might’ve done.

He’s not acting angry, per-se, but he’s definitely upset. You tend to pick up on this kind of thing: small changes in someone’s personality or body language. Most of the time it’s not a conscious habit.

Most of the time.

Right now, he’s run his hands through his hair about a million times. It’s become a frizzy mess behind him, and when you’d made an offhand joke about it —an attempt to lighten the mood— all he’d done was scowl. Not at you, really, but the message was there. You’d snapped your jaw shut so fast you’re pretty sure he heard your teeth click.

After that he’d frustratedly made tea for the both of you, which consisted of opening the cupboards faster than he usually did, closing them slightly louder than he usually does, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the stove-top while he waited for the kettle to boil.

All of this you observed from the corner of your eye while ‘reading’ on the couch.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when you’d finally mustered up the courage to speak again, a little joke about a part in the book you were reading, all he’d said was a flat:

“That’s great, babe.”

You’re starting to get antsy. Nervous. Maybe you should go? Unless he gets upset at you leaving. That would be bad. But he’s clearly upset with you being here, so maybe you should go.

While you’re debating the pros and cons of leaving, you try to remain as still and silent as possible. No need to upset him anymore by moving too much or being too loud.

You flip a page in the book you’re no longer reading (he might notice you’re not paying attention to it anymore) and decide to test the waters again.

“The author just spelled restaurant wrong. That’s the third spelling mistake I’ve caught in this book.”

“Hmm.”

Okay. So that was worse. Talking to him is out of the question, then. It must be something you did, to warrant this kind of reaction.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything you could’ve done in recent hours to make him upset, but you can’t think of anything.

You glance slightly to the right— not far enough that he’ll see you looking at him, but far enough to get a better look at him in your peripheral. He’s glaring down at his campaign notebook. Shit, he looks so angry.

Unbidden, tears begin to well in your eyes and you try to shift, trying to angle yourself away from him enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes.

But your hand shifts, knocking into his leg.

Fuck. “Sorry!”

You yank you arm back as if burned, jolting back on the couch so you’re in no danger of touching him. “I’m sorry!”

He sits up, immediately snapping to attention at the desperation coloring your voice. “Woah woah, hey. Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

You take a steadying breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks blankly at you. Oh shit, you’re supposed to know that you’ve done something wrong.

“I mean,” You hurry to correct, “I know I— Can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?”

Understanding floods his features and you brace yourself, ready for the reprimand.

“Can I touch you?”

Now it’s your turn to stare with confusion. You nod once, briefly thinking about how weird it is to ask for permission first.

He sits up on the couch, facing you with his legs crossed, the couch springs squeaking loudly at his movement. You resist the urge to wince. He reaches out with a slow hand, taking the hand that’s still clenched, held away from him and up near your chest.

He stares down at your hand, holding it with his left hand and tracing delicate shapes on it with his right. His ringed fingers drag lines around your knuckles and veins, lingering occasionally over the odd, old scar.

“How long did you think I was upset with you?”

Your heart is racing, muscles tensed and ready to bolt. “Um. A few hours? Maybe?”

You’re hyper-aware of the grip he has on your hand, and how quickly and easy it could become crushing.

It doesn’t.

“Bug,” He says slowly after a moment. At first he used to use pet names as a joke— it was something you’d laugh at, between the two of you, since the relationship wasn’t real.

But recently, he’s been saying them with a different inflection in his tone. A little less teasing, a lot more fond.

“Have you spent the past few hours afraid that I was mad at you?”

He sounds… sad. Which is confusing. It doesn’t— he was. He was.

“But you were,” You say, suddenly unsure about anything and everything. “You were upset.”

“I was upset because I couldn’t work this part of the campaign out, and i’m dramatic. I was never mad at you, honey. I was never mad at you.”

You frown, gears turning in your head. “When I made that joke about your hair, you glared at me. And then when I tried to talk to you, you were upset. You didn’t want to talk.”

“I was jokingly glaring at you, I’m so sorry you thought I was serious. I wasn’t, I promise. I didn’t mean to be dismissive, I was really focusing on writing.”

You’re both silent for a moment. A beat too long. You want to squirm in the unwelcome space the silence has created.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

That is a loaded question.

“I don’t know,” You pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I don’t— I don’t know. That’s the problem. You don’t yell at me, or get angry, or tell me when i’ve made you upset. I don’t know what you’ll do.”

He makes a wounded noise in his throat.

“I know you get angry,” You bulldoze on, “I’ve seen it. You’re so… loud, in everything you do. I know you get angry. But you never get that same kind of loud angry at me and I don’t know what to do because that means that I upset you and you don’t tell me about it and then I don’t know how to fix it. I have to fix it, Eddie.”

His eyes, deep and brown, search your face. He reaches up a hand, painfully slow, to cup your face. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you tip your head to the side, leaning into the job.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Bug. Are you listening?” He waits for you to hum in confirmation before continuing. “You’re not responsible for my moods. Or anyone else’s for that matter. That’s not your job. You don’t have to fix it.”

He reaches his second hand up to cup the other side of your face. “You know why I don’t get angry at you? Not all loud and dramatic like that? Because I’ve seen how you react when people do. And I never, ever want to be the reason you get that look in your eye. I never want to make you afraid. I never want you to believe, with proof and confidence, that I’ve grown sick of you.”

You open your eyes, eyes darting across the planes of his face. Searching for even the smallest hint, the smallest giveaway that he might be lying.

You can’t find any. In its place, you find eyes, shining with pure determination. You find lips parted ever so slightly, a sad-sort of smile being etched into being. You find two hands on your face, thumbs delicately sweeping across the skin of your under-eye, of your cheekbone. Smoothing away the steady tears that had begun falling, wiping away the hot trails they leave on your face.

And you realize all at once that love isn’t like the movies. It isn’t picture-perfect kisses. It isn’t ball gowns and dresses and kisses in the rain. It isn’t like the love you thought you were supposed to have: empty and hollow; a life of hanging off of arms and praying your next slip-up didn’t cost you your relationship.

It was this.

It was just being. Just being and knowing the other person is there for just that— for you. It was not raising your voice. It was carrying extra hair-ties. It was making two cups of coffee. It was steeping tea for an extra couple of minutes, just the way he liked it. It was playing your favorite music in the car, and looking over at each other during the bridge, belting the lyrics with the same, toothy-smile. So full and so happy you just keep screaming the lyrics, because you’re filled with so much you don’t know where to put it all.

Your tears begin to fall in earnest now. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but for a different reason now. You’re struck with the need to convey all of this to him— to tell him you understand, you know, you feel the same.

“These hair ties,” You shove your wrist up to his eye-line. “They’re for you. Because you always forget your own. And— and I steep the tea for a few extra minutes, because you like your tea strong, and you didn’t just find that tape in your van, I bought it ‘cause I know you lost the old one in the Upside Down, ‘cause it felt out of your pocket.”

You’re babbling, nearly choking on your tears and your words, rushing them all out of your mouth in an aching wish to be understood, in this very moment.

“I know,” He says, voice a little hysteric and eyes a little too bright. His lip wobbles. He presses your face tighter in his hands. “I know. I know. I see you. I see you.”

You stay like that for a little while. At some point, your hands find his wrists, and then you’re just two fools, smiling like idiots with tears streaming down your faces, staring into each others eyes.

Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “The next time you think I’m upset at you, you tell me, okay? You can ask. You can ask me and I pinky promise I won’t get mad.”

You giggle wetly. “Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear,” He says, taking his left hand away from your face to hold up his pinky. You intertwine yours and his together, the both of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He gets quiet for a moment; removes his hands from your face and instead clasps, your hands together, resting in your lap.

“You know why I never tell you when you’re being a bad practice girlfriend?” He says, his voice low and soft.

“How come?”

He smiles, full and good. “Because you’re not. You’re so sweet and kind and loving. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You furrow your brows. “The real kind? The I-love-you kind?”

Your face flushes over the words ‘I love you.’

“I’ve always kissed you for real,” He says, words laden with fondness. “Ever since the day we met and you slapped the shit out of me for being stupid. I’ve been hopelessly obsessed ever since. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”

You suck in a breath. “So all of this— the, the dates and the hanging out and the kissing— that’s all been real?”

“Every last bit.”

“Then in that case,” You say, squeezing his hands. “I would very much like you to kiss me.”

He leans in, slotting your lips together and everything just clicks. Like this is where you’re meant to be. Maybe it’s puppy love. Maybe it’s not.

All you know is that Eddie Munson is kissing you for real, and he always has been. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗