To the guest who commented about Bucky's big dirty talk game...
Just stick around dollface... Got somethin' special for ya in, I'm not sure how many chapters... But should be good.
Thus concludes the message from Bucky... lol. Also, if you're interested in reading some one shot smuts about Bucky x reader (or other people...) I have some that I did for challenges on my Tumblr page, found under Valkyrieofsmut. I want to eventually put them all on here, but it's probably going to be a while. So if you want to read them before they get on here, feel free!
Bucky picked up his phone, wincing as he bent his heavily bruised and swollen fingers.
He hadn't been able to fall asleep at all the night before, so he was still awake to answer when Steve called him with the rising sun. "Hey, Steve," he greeted with a rough voice.
"Hey, Bucky, what's up?"
"Steve, I gotta figure out what the hell happened in high school," he groaned.
"What are you talking about?" Steve asked.
Bucky sighed, rubbing his metal hand over his face. "Steve… man… You gotta help me. (Y/n)… She went crazy on me, and accused me of doing the same thing I did in high school- Man, I don't even know what was wrong back then!" Bucky heard Steve take a breath and he knew that he was hesitant to get involved with how long it took for it to come back out as a sigh. "Please, Stevie," he murmured. "Unless she's talking about how I'm still madly in love with her, I have no idea why she's mad at me."
Steve inhaled quickly in surprise. "Bucky- I thought- I thought you didn't like her? Isn't that why you didn't want her to stay with you?"
"I tried to not like her, I tried really hard to not like her. I was angry at the things she did, how she told everyone all those bullshit lies that made them look at me like a pervert, but- Steve, I've always had feelings for her, and… It took me a while, but I realized that- that I love her…"
"The- what bullshit lies?" Steve asked.
"The ones- well, the ones that were about me trying to do things to her that I didn't do, or that I was going out with her and cheated on her, or that I was going out with her and didn't want anyone to know because I said she wasn't pretty enough… All of that bullshit."
Bucky could almost see Steve's face, shaking his head as he told him, "man, she didn't say anything about you in high school, especially not stuff like that. She just kinda, stared wistfully at you, and then called you a jerk or whatever, then just got mad at herself when she stared at you."
Bucky was silent for a moment. "But she said those things about me-"
"Let me guess," Steve sounded muffled as he tousled his hair and sighed, "you heard that from the same rumor mill that spread that (Y/n) was a lesbian?"
Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. He had… And he knew for damn sure, without a doubt, that she was not a lesbian; those screams of his name the night before, only hours ago, really- they were real; she had wanted him. "Maybe," he finally muttered.
Steve sighed to him. "Good Lord, Buck, why don't you just go ask her what happened? She's in the same house as you! I'm all the way in another state!"
"I have, Steve, more than once, but she doesn't want to talk about it, she won't tell me, and accuses me of knowing already," Bucky groaned in frustration.
Steve sighed again. "Fine, Bucky. Give me a minute and I'll call you back."
(Y/n) laid in bed half asleep, wanting to go back to sleep instead of leaving the room and seeing Bucky.
Her phone rang, and she looked down to see Steve's face smiling up at her.
She answered it and heard his voice. "Hey, (Y/n), how are you?"
"Fine," she answered.
"Good, good. Um, I was just wondering…" He sighed. "(Y/n), you gotta tell me what happened between you and Bucky in high school…"
"What? Why now, all of a sudden?" She asked groggily, not wanting to be awake and thinking about this at sunrise.
"(Y/n), you guys are having problems, right?"
"Well, I mean, he's still an asshole, so there's that," she deadpanned.
Steve sighed. "Look, you're both my friends. I get that not everyone gets along, really- I mean, I wouldn't have a job otherwise, but there is no reason you two shouldn't get along."
"Yes there is!" (Y/n) insisted.
"Then tell me," Steve reasoned, "and I'll leave you alone about it."
"You're just going to tell Bucky- Steve, I don't know what he told you, but you know he knows already-"
"(Y/n), I want to know what happened," Steve told her, exasperated. "For me."
(Y/n) shook her head. "Steve-"
"Please, (Y/n). You say that there is a reason you don't get along, I have no idea what it is- Bucky out of the picture, I still want to know what the hell happened. I want to know for me. I want to know what the hell caused my two friends to hate each other."
"Steve-" She started, but he cut her off.
"Especially when you gave each other goo goo eyes all through high school."
(Y/n) sighed. "Fine. He never gave me goo goo eyes, but fine. But I have to start at the beginning."
"Good place to start," he told her. "And yes, he did."
It took an hour, but Steve finally called back.
"Hey, Steve," Bucky greeted.
"Bucky, I don't even know what to say."
"Why- what did she say?"
"Ok. Are you ready for this?" Steve asked, taking a deep breath and letting it out to prepare himself.
"Yeah," Bucky assured softly after his own breath.
"Ok," he said again and took another breath. "So, near the end of freshman year, I guess the guys on some team or another, they came up to (Y/n) in class and asked her out, but, not really. They all started laughing at her when she didn't answer. She thinks they were playing a joke on her," Steve told him.
"Those assholes- who the Hell asks someone out on a date as a group, anyway?" Bucky shook his head, disgusted at the thought of those guys playing a joke on (Y/n) that way.
"No, Bucky, only one guy asked her out- it just… it just happened more than once. A group of guys came up to her and one asked her out, but the whole group laughed at her. And it happened more than once."
Bucky felt rage flood him at that information. "Assholes," he growled again.
"Bucky… it was always popular guys, and their friends, so… so she thought that they were making fun of her because she was unpopular. She didn't think very highly of herself in high school, you know… didn't matter what anyone said…"
Bucky bit his lip as he remembered what she'd said about herself when he'd asked why she had lost all the weight. She really didn't think very highly of herself now, either…
"So… those guys were being assholes, or, at least she thought so," Bucky asked, and Steve hummed in agreement. "So, why is she mad at me?"
Steve hesitated, but slowly said, "Bucky… you were really popular in high school…"
"I guess," he shrugged, though he knew Steve couldn't see him.
"Bucky… She thought you were doing that too…"
Bucky's brain stopped, then slowly started processing that.
(Y/n) had thought that he was making fun of her? She truly didn't believe that he liked her? That he could ever like her?
Wait- she'd said that he was doing the same thing now- She thought that he was making fun of her, still!
Hurt for her filled his chest, and he let out a pained sigh.
"Bucky…"
"Yeah, Steve?" He asked.
"Do- do you really love her?"
"Yeah Steve," he quietly answered.
"You need to tell her," Steve told him.
"Yeah," he agreed, "but if she didn't believe me then, why would she believe me now? And what if she doesn't feel the same?"
"She does," Steve assured him.
After talking to Steve and telling him about what Bucky had done in high school, (Y/n) rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but it wasn't happening.
She sighed and grumbled about having to get up earlier than planned, pulling her phone to her. She had a reminder from her podcast app, asking if she'd like to continue the recording she'd been listening to.
She thought for a moment then shrugged, grabbing her headphones and pulling them on.
She could still feel the slight throbbing between her thighs from Bucky's fingers the night before, and she blushed darkly at the realization, but she felt really upset at men right now, and could use some kind words from a man she knew wasn't trying to get anything from her, or get her to do anything, and the recording had sounded like it was a comfort one, anyway.
Instead of starting where she'd left off, she set it back to the beginning, wanting to hear the setup again.
"You look so beautiful on my couch, even though the circumstances of you being there aren't the best. My heart is beating fast in my chest as I get closer, not wanting to wake you if sleep is keeping you from the pain that made you cry yourself to sleep there.
"I crouch down and lightly brush my fingers over your cheek, taking in the pained beauty in your face. I hate that man for what he did to you. I want to punch him in the face and get a little release for my anger as I watch him fall to the ground-"
(Y/n) thought of the podcaster punching Bucky in the face, but it quickly switched to Bucky knocking Jason out at the restaurant when he'd showed up and said terrible things about her, and her heart leapt against her ribs.
She quickly pushed it back into place and focused on the recording.
"-but being there for you is more important than my anger at him, and I stay close, brushing my lips gently against your cheek. I have wanted to be with you for so long, but for some reason, it never happened. I've spent so many hours staring at you and thinking of holding you in my arms, making you laugh so that I could see your beautiful smile, kissing you- so much more…"
The tone in his voice still made (Y/n) feel how much he cared for the girl he was speaking about, and she felt a tug at her heart, wishing someone felt that way about her.
"I get up and sit in the chair, unable to leave the room and not be able to see you as I fall asleep, worried that I will never get the chance to look at you as I fall asleep again." There is a sad sigh barely audible, like he had pulled away to try and hide it.
"I wake up to the sun shining through the curtains and you softly crying on the couch again. I stand up and move next to you on the couch, pulling you up and close against me with your face against my shoulder. It's killing me to see you this way, this upset, and I want to comfort you, make you laugh and smile, forget about that asshole who hurt you."
There was a pause as he took an audible breath, changing from setting the scene to speaking. "It's ok, doll, I'm here. Please don't cry. Let me see your beautiful eyes." He hummed in discontent. "I should punch him for making those beautiful eyes look so sad," he murmured. "They are beautiful," he insisted. "Doll, if they were any more beautiful, you'd have to have a licence to carry a dangerous weapon. There, there's a hint of that amazing smile you have… Wh-what? Don't say that- doll, I'm telling you-" He sighed and his voice grew more stern. "Don't you dare repeat anything he said about you; it's all bullshit. You are an amazing, beautiful woman-"
(Y/n) took a breath, trying to ignore anything that felt like tears in her eyes, hoping they'd go away.
"-yes, you are- Doll- Doll- Hey. Doll, listen to me," he demanded softly. "You are beautiful. Hey, I don't care what anybody said. I think you're beautiful-" He cut himself off and there was a pause, then he cleared his throat, "yes, really. What do you mean, why? Have you looked in a mirror lately? God, doll, how can you not see how amazing you are? You have the most beautiful eyes, it's like looking into the heart of a star, and your smile- it makes my heart beat fast every time I see it, like right now," he chuckled.
"Your lips look so pretty- when you bite them, I always want to kiss them better, and play with your hair, and kiss your forehead… You got me all messed up inside, doll," he chuckled. "Since when? … I don't think I should tell you, doll…" He said, voice full off trepidation. "No, I really shouldn't- ok- ok, ok, ok," he said, laughing. "There's no need to tickle me! I've felt that way…" He sighed, suddenly serious. "Doll, I've thought that since the first moment I saw you."
(Y/n) felt her heart squeeze, she really wished she had someone like that. Maybe one day she'd be able to get over that ass down the hall and find someone nice.
"…Doll, do you think that if we were in a different world you could like me, too? … What- what do you mean you already do? I meant as more than friends- … You did, too?" He paused, and (Y/n) could practically hear him biting his lip. "Then- then could I kiss you?"
There was a pause, then kissing sounds, slow and- probably supposed to be loving behind the recording.
"Doll," he whispered between the kissing, "babydoll… You taste better than I could have imagined… Mmm… Mm, you're all I want to taste for the rest of time… You're so sweet and delicate… like a rare fruit… Mmm, I don't want to stop kissing your lips, baby, but there are other places I want to taste, like your throat, and shoulders, down your arms, your belly, your breasts, your- all of you, doll… Mmm… Doll, I can feel your pulse against my lips- mmm, let's see if I can taste it, too," he murmured, and there was a slight sucking noise.
(Y/n)'s cheeks heated as her fingers went to where Bucky had probably left a mark last night.
"You taste so good," he murmured again, his breath getting heavier. "Babydoll, I love just kissing you, but, could I- could I kiss here, under your shirt, too?" He paused for a moment, then more kissing noises filled the recording. "Mm, yeah, tastes better without your shirt in the way," he chuckled.
"… Hm? You want your bra off, too? Whatever you want, babydoll, I'd do anything for you… Oh my god," his voice sighed. "No, baby, I- I'm stunned. Your breasts are so beautiful. I knew that they would be, but I never imagined how beautiful they could be. I- I'm sorry, doll, but I gotta taste them… Mmm," he moaned. "They taste as good as they look. Mmmmm… Please don't hate me if I just stay here and worship them for a bit, baby, they're just so good…"
(Y/n) flushed, feeling her heart warm a little.
"They look so good with my hands on them… Mm, doll, any man who can look at you like this and not think that you are the sexiest woman alive is fucking crazy, and they don't deserve you. God, you really do look amazing…"
(Y/n) closed her eyes, trying to take in the warm, happy feelings that the recording gave her, while her nipples throbbed a little from how Bucky had been touching them.
"C'mere, babydoll, I know somewhere more comfortable… You got me," he chuckled, "I do just really want to see you all spread across my bed, but- can you blame me? I mean, I have been dreaming about it for years… Oh god, it looks just as amazing as I dreamed. You really are the highlight of the whole room." He chuckled again. "And that blush, too; so cute. Here, only one thing could make this sight better, and- can I? Can I take off your pants? It's just to improve the beauty of the room, I swear," he teased, and after a second groaned. "I know I'm saying oh my god a lot, but, baby- oh my god. You are so beautiful. You're already driving me insane… You're right, I am wearing to many clothes, let's get that fixed here, just a second…"
(Y/n) drifted away a little bit, not really listening to the sex part- she'd had enough of that last night, she just wanted the comforting.
He talked through eating out and kissing up the listener's body, then the sound of him moaning and praising the listener's body, saying how beautiful and perfect she was, with (Y/n) still only half listening, her thoughts drifting wishfully around the thought that she wondered what it would be like to have someone actually like her enough to mean those things about her, until-
"Babydoll, you're so beautiful," he panted, "especially when you're under me- oh god, doll… Ah, fuck, doll- you're so wet- so tight- ah! Oh baby- oh god-! Fuck, you feel so good around me," he moaned wantonly. "Ah baby, please tell me you're close, I can't- you feel so good baby, I can't hold back much longer- ugh! Right- oh god, babydoll, right now- bab- ugh- Dollface!" He cried out.
(Y/n)'s eyes shot open and she was suddenly back in the recording.
"Ah! Ah! Ah- ah- oh, oh, yeah… Holy fuck, doll," he panted.
She grabbed her phone, hitting the skip back button and getting it close to the part that had startled her.
"-much longer- ugh! Right- oh god, babydoll, right now- bab- ugh- Dollface! Ah! Ah! Ah- ah- oh, oh, yeah… Holy fuck, doll," he panted as (Y/n)'s heart thudded quickly in her chest.
"Oh god… That was so intense… Just a minute, I can't see straight… Babydoll, you feel so good, you're so amazing and beautiful," the recording continued, though (Y/n)'s mind was racing so fast that she wasn't paying attention to it.
Dollface?
He had never said that in a recording that she had heard, and, embarrassingly, she had listened to them all, more than once for most…
Not once had he said dollface.
But this time, he'd nearly yelled it as he came…
Just like Bucky had when he'd had her on the table, though he'd cried it into her shoulder, not yelled it to a microphone…
It was already strange enough that the podcaster said doll; not a lot of people said that anymore. And, she had been struck before by how much the podcaster sounded like Bucky at times…
She hit the skip back button a few times to hear more of his voice to try to make a comparison.
"- so amazing and beautiful. Did you feel that? Can you see me trembling right now? That's all from you, it's all because you are so amazing-"
Oh god… What if it was Bucky?
What would she do? Holy shit- if it was-
If it was, she would have been thinking about him and listening to him as she got off, for about a year now!
Even though she didn't know it was him-
He was still her dream man…
(Y/n) felt tears in her eyes and pressed her face against her pillow.
"Babydoll, forget that asshole, please stay with me…" Maybe Bucky's voice said in her ear. "Ah god, please, baby. I have wanted you to be with me, in my life, for so long…" He was still panting, trying to catch his breath. "Shh, babydoll, please just lay here with me. It feels like heaven when my arms are wrapped around you."
Tears hit (Y/n) harder.
Why did he have to be so sweet in the recording, and such an ass in real life?! Why couldn't he just be one thing and stop ripping her heart apart like a rabid dog?!
"It feels like heaven when my arms are wrapped around you-"
Right. Like he actually would feel anything with her in his arms- and she should know; she'd been in his arms an awful lot lately to help him with nightmares.
(Y/n) hit the bed with her fist, angry at him and herself.
She needed to stop thinking about this, anyway- maybe she was jumping to conclusions- it probably wasn't even him…
Even if part of the reason she'd started listening to the podcast was specifically that the podcaster sounded like Bucky, with saying doll, his voice, everything…
Maybe he had moaned it with her, then recorded this and done it there as well- Wait… This recording had come out before he had set her on the table-
The sudden irrational thought that maybe Bucky had taken her phone and found this podcast- maybe he heard it on here, and then, trying to mess with her head more, had moaned it to her…
She dismissed that idea. How paranoid could she be?
But…
The thought that the podcaster was Bucky kept invading her mind, and she could tell that it was going to plague her mind all day.
… … …
Bucky spent the day either downstairs or outside with the punching bag, only able to hit it with his left hand since his right was too swollen to close properly.
He waited and watched for (Y/n) to come downstairs, but he never saw her, and he figured that she must have taken a cab to work to avoid him.
Bucky was exhausted by the time (Y/n) got home, and had fallen asleep on the couch with the tv on.
Having only a few hours of sleep and then staying awake for over 24 hours, all while being frustrated, irritated, jealous, angry, and super horny, really took it out of him.
… … …
(Y/n) walked past where Bucky was passed out on the couch when she got back, and she thought that the only reason she had managed to get a cab and get back before he pulled up to pick her up on his motorcycle was that he had been dead asleep, and a tiny bit of disappointment grew in her stomach. She had thought she was so clever, too.
She quickly grabbed something from the kitchen to eat and made her way upstairs to her room, reminding herself that she hated him, no matter what her heart said and how her stomach churned at the thought.
… … …
Bucky aimed his rifle at the line of enemy combatants as they moved toward him, but no matter where or how he shot, he couldn't stop any of them from advancing.
An explosion sounded around him and he fell to the ground.
Bucky quickly climbed up from the floor, getting the indistinct image of a couch and a chair next to him.
His eyes darted around and focused on a display on the wall showing dust clouding up around a building.
"Fuck-" Bucky felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He needed to get somewhere safe, he needed to make sure his troop got to safety, the residents of the village they were in- where were they, why weren't they running for shelter?!
Memory hit; he'd been captured- he needed to get back, get out if enemy territory.
Bucky quickly made it to a wall, sliding along to the doorway and peeking around to clear the room.
He needed a weapon- where was his rifle?! He was running around naked!
Bucky cleared the next room, finding a stash of knives and taking the ones that would be handy, sticking them in his belt and holding the most intimidating in his right hand. He looked down, noticing that his hand had trouble closing completely, but he adjusted it and attempted to close his hand more. He must have worked someone over really hard earlier to be so bruised and swollen.
Bucky slowly cleared the whole floor, pulling open the cupboards and looking for another weapon to help him before going to the glass doors and opening them, clearing little by little until he made his way to the field.
There was a crash downstairs, and (Y/n) jumped, nearly dropping her orange and her phone.
She was instantly alert, wondering what had happened that had made so much noise.
She carefully crept from her room and looked downstairs, peaking around to see the kitchen in disarray and the back door open. "What the hell?" She muttered to herself as she walked through to the front room.
Bucky was way too ex military paranoid to have left the door open, or somehow made it easy for someone to break in.
It hit her as she looked around the empty front room and saw a movie with a destroyed city on the screen.
Bucky was ex military, with PTSD.
She let her posture relax a little as she looked around to see that the pictures on the wall were at weird angles, probably as Bucky had brushed past them.
She turned and looked around as she made her way back to the kitchen. She looked around to try to get a clue, and saw knives missing from the knife block, some on the counter, but the largest of the set noticeably missing.
"Great," she mumbled.
He was armed. But this wasn't the time to sit back and groan angrily; he needed her help. Not only because she was the only one around, but she couldn't stand to think of him reliving the pain and trauma he'd gone through. She made a mental note to stay at a distance and turned on the back light, looking out through the glass until she saw him moving into the field.
Bucky froze and looked up as a light behind him lit. Nothing happened for a moment, and he made his way as quickly as he could through the grass- he needed to get to safety, to somewhere that he recognized completely, instead of the half recognition familiarity that had filled the house he'd been in.
There was yelling, and he froze again, crouching to hide his position.
"Bucky!" (Y/n) called out to him again, but he wasn't answering. "Ah, crap," she muttered, realizing that he was having a full blown delusion and didn't recognize her.
She needed something to snap him a little lucid, at least enough that he didn't stab her and would let her take the knife and help him through this.
She thought back through things that her grandparents had told her and that she'd seen, and remembered her grandma calling her grandpa by a name she'd never heard before, and then explaining that it was a nickname that only she used, and that it helped him snap out of it when he started to drift sometimes.
"B-" She cut off. Everyone called him Bucky, and they probably had in the military, too. She needed a different name… "James!" She called out, but he still didn't acknowledge her. They had probably used his real name in the military, too… and his last name for sure…
She ran her fingers through her hair, racking her brain. She needed a name that people actually called him, but that didn't have ties to the military.
"Oh!" If Bucky was the podcaster- well, there he went by Jamie, which she realized now was short for James, somehow. The girls on there all called him Jamie, so, maybe it would work.
"Jamie!"
It took him a moment, but he recognized that the person yelling was calling his name. Had he made it back already? Or had someone else been taken, too?
Bucky looked around until he saw the figure calling to him, and blinked, trying to clear his eyes.
(Y/n)? What the Hell was she doing here? She wasn't trained to handle these situations! She wasn't even wearing any gear! He had to get her out of here! He had to get her somewhere safe!
He took a step forward and stopped, realizing that the light behind (Y/n) and the field around him meant that he had somehow gotten into the middle of a minefield. "Stay there!" He called to her. "Stay back!"
"Jamie, it's ok," she called to him.
Bucky shook his head. Jamie was him, but- it was weird, like he had a memory that that was him, but no one actually ever called him that.
He moved carefully back toward (Y/n), checking that he wasn't about to set off any mines as he went, but she yelled, "stop!"
Bucky looked up at her in confusion.
Would (Y/n) tell him to stop from exiting a minefield? "(Y/n) what are you doing here?" He demanded.
(Y/n) swallowed roughly. She had no doubt in her mind that if Bucky decided to catch her, he would; they were quite a bit away from the house, and he could probably run faster than her, plus, the door was glass, and if he wanted to get into the house, locks were not going to stop him.
She could get to a room and lock herself in, but she had felt his muscular body against hers, and she knew that a wooden door wouldn't be able to stop him, especially not long enough for help to arrive way out here.
She suddenly realized that she was playing in a dangerous situation, and had to calm her heart. "I- I came to help you," she tried not to stutter.
Bucky's face contorted in suspicion. She would have come to help him- or the enemy could be tricking him, trying to raise his hopes just to shatter them again in a new form of torture.
"How are you going to help me?" He demanded.
(Y/n) licked her lips. "B- Jamie, do you know where you are?"
Bucky laughed, getting more comfortable in his crouch. "She doesn't call me that!"
(Y/n)'s brows met in confusion. "I- no, I don't… but your listeners do," she told him, deciding to make a leap.
Bucky shifted, looking up at her in curiosity. "Listeners?"
She swallowed again. "To your podcast… the women who listen to your erotic podcast…"
A flash of recording himself speaking as he masturbated played in his mind, and he involuntarily reached for his head as he rocked back. "That's disgusting-" He called to her, about to ask if they had made him do that.
"It's not," she told him, anxiously swallowing a few times. "It's- it's beautiful, and sexy, and…" She had to take a few breaths as her cheeks heated. "And it helps people through things sometimes, like when my ex cheated on me- I-" God she was really going out on a limb here, she hopped it worked, or she would have just shared her most embarrassing secrets with him for no reason. "I listened to one of them, it was really comforting and- and I felt like maybe there could be someone out there who could love me as much as your words made me feel…"
Bucky blinked, but didn't say anything.
"Bucky- Jamie, please put down the knife," she asked, but his mind had caught on something else.
"Say it again," he told her.
(Y/n)'s brow knotted in confusion. "Please put down the knife?" She asked.
He twitched his head to the side. "Say my name, how you say it," he told her.
"Bucky," (Y/n) called to him. "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. I call you Bucky," she repeated, hoping that it would help it get through to him.
(Y/n)'s voice sweetly screaming his name flashed in his memory. "(Y/n)," he said.
"Bucky." Her lips turned up a little and she sounded relieved. "Bucky, please put the knife down."
He looked back up at her, his suspicions growing again.
"Bucky- please put the knife down, and we'll go back and lay down, you can wrap your arms around me- just like when you have nightmares. Remember what my grandpa said was the best cure for nightmares?" She felt as though she was fighting for him to believe her. "Put down the knife and let me help you with your nightmare. C-come back and hold me close, Bucky."
(Y/n)'s cheeks pinkened and Bucky wanted to kiss them, feel their embarrassed warmth against his lips as he told her how cute she was.
Bucky's eyes moved over her, then he stood, walking toward her, and (Y/n) had to steel her legs not to run away or give out, knowing that the knife was still in his hand from the glint it reflected from the light behind her.
He looked at a spot of grass a few feet away from her and lifted his hand, throwing the knife so it stuck out of the ground.
(Y/n) looked down at it and let out a relieved breath. "Thank you," she told him. "D-do you want to go… comfort, now? Should we go back?" She asked, her cheeks still hot.
He shook his head. "You come out here," he told her.
(Y/n) blinked, but then mentally shrugged and started toward him, careful not to step where the knife was.
Bucky watched her get closer and stop in front of him, looking up into his eyes. He just looked down at her, and she slowly stepped closer, leaning against him as her arms wrapped around him.
"Thank you, Bucky," she whispered so that her breath brushed against his neck, pressing her forehead into his shoulder.
Recognition flashed in Bucky's mind; she'd done this before.
He was sitting in the kitchen in the dark, dark thoughts and memories flooding through his mind, a knife in his metal hand, his eyes on his flesh arm, seeing a doorway out in the lines of blood there. She took the knife from him and set it on the counter, pulled him to the sink, washed him off- and hugged him close, thanking him.
Bucky looked down as he lifted his metal arm to see it.
It was true.
He wrapped his arms around (Y/n), pressing her close against him. A feeling of safety filled him, security… home.
In his mind he saw her standing at his stove cooking pancakes and smiling at him.
His… his home, his pancakes, his girl…
Bucky pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes tracing over her face.
"Do you want to stay out here and look at the stars for a while?" She asked, thinking that maybe he had been nervous because she kept trying to get him back inside.
He nodded and knelt, pulling the knives from his waistband and throwing them to stick in the ground next to the other.
(Y/n) felt the color drain from her face as her eyes widened and she gulped. "Remind me to pat you down, next time," she tried to joke.
Bucky smiled up at her and waited for her to lay down and get comfortable on the ground with him.
They laid on the grass, not really looking up at the stars, as Bucky was holding her tightly pressed against his chest, slowly drifting off to sleep in the warm air.
Bucky woke up as sun shined down into his eyes and squinted at the brightness, realizing that he was in the field and that he must have had a flashback.
He turned his head away and the top of (Y/n)'s head filled his view. His eyes widened and his hand moved to check if she was ok, but he didn't let his breath out until she pushed his hand away and buried her face back in his shoulder to get away from the sun.
Half formed memories came reluctantly to mind when he tried to remember what had happened the night before; getting out of the house, taking knives from the kitchen, (Y/n) standing at the edge of where the lawn and field met, hugging him, feeling like safe and secure and home… his girl-
Except that she wasn't, he remembered as his conversation with Steve came back to him. She wasn't his, and never would be; she thought that he had been, and was still, trying to play some horrible joke on her.
That's why she hated him.
Pain filled his heart and he buried his nose in her hair as his arms tightened around her.
No, she couldn't-
Hope filled him as he pulled back to look down at her.
If she hated him, she wouldn't have come down here and helped him last night. She would have stayed in her room and ignored him. But she had come down here, maybe knowing that he had a weapon- that's probably why she had been standing over on the edge of the lawn and not coming straight to him- and talked him down, gotten him to get rid of the knives, held him close until he fell asleep, and through the night.
He looked down at her beautiful, sleeping face against him and stroked his fingers down her cheek, brushed her hair out of the way and ran them over her cheek again. "(Y/n), I," he whispered. "…I- …I have to find a way to tell you how I feel…" He sighed. "One that you'll believe…"
(Y/n) opened her eyes to see a wall of cloth covered muscle in front of her. She blinked and looked up to see Bucky's eyes closed as he held her close.
She bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the closeness. Her hand went up to his chest and rested there as she felt his heart beating, and his arms tightened around her.
Bucky pulled back and looked down at her. "Morning," he murmured.
"M-morning…" She answered.
He reluctantly pulled away and sat up, looking around the fields around them. "I take it I had a flashback," he commented.
(Y/n) looked at him in confusion. "You don't remember?" She asked.
He shook his head. "Not really; hardly anything."
"What, um, what do you remember?" She asked, trying to feel out if her admission of listening to erotic podcasts, or that she suspected him to be the podcaster had stayed in his mind.
Bucky shook his head. "Thinking that I had to get out of there. Thinking this was a minefield. Seeing you. Not much."
(Y/n) bit her lip, happy that her secret was safe, but a little disappointed that she wouldn't find out if he really was the podcaster.