Bucky Barnes Fics

Bucky is in a mood. He's been in a mood for the past day. The kind that has Sam seriously considering ways to murder him and get away with it.  The mission was a failure, and it was partially his fault. He's tired, aggravated, and above all he misses you. He can feel the tension weighing him down and at this point, the only thing keeping him motivated is the fact that you're waiting for him. 

He gazes up at the night sky, taking in a deep breath of the fresh cool spring air. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he silently counts to ten in an effort to will some of his frustrations away before he reaches you.

The private jet is a few feet ahead of him, and he sees your face through the window. He can make out your eyes moving around the area, he knows you're probably unable to spot him in the dark. Needing another minute, Bucky restarts his countdown, listening to the crunch of Sam's shoes on the gravelly tarmac.

And it hits him. You're searching for him. Missing him, too. That does things to him he cant begin to comprehend.

"Hey, Sam," he calls out, not looking back at his friend.

"Yeah."

"Give me twenty minutes," Bucky responds gruffly, breaking into a light jog. He doesn't care if Sam or anyone else follows or not, all he can think about is you waiting for him.

After all this time, you still wait for him, still love him despite his flaws and baggage. It's something he will never take for granted. He needs you so badly right now, even if it's just a taste.

You sit back in your seat with an impatient sigh. It's been a few hours since Bucky's last check-in, and your finger keeps hovering over the send button on your phone. You want to reach out but you don't want to distract him or worse, since he might be undercover and could have forgotten to turn his phone off, you couldn't handle knowing you blew his cover because of an "I miss you" text.

You delete the message and toss your phone on the chair across from you. Staring out the window again, you squint your eyes, wondering if you're imagining the shapes on the tarmac. You think one is moving towards you, but it's hard to see anything in the pitch-black darkness.

Bucky eases the door open, shutting it behind him, setting the lock in place with a soft click. Padding silently across the small space, he crouches beside your chair. "Hi, Doll."

Turning your head with a startled shriek, you swing a punch at his head. Bucky grabs your hand with an amused smile, his first real one since he left you two days ago.

"Damn, sweet girl, usually we have a little foreplay before getting to the rough stuff," he jokes. His eyes taking in your beautiful face, wondering how he got so lucky to have you.

"Oh my god," you cry out, throwing yourself on him, your body hanging over the armrest. "Bucky, honey, I missed you so much. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened-."

Bucky releases your fist, cupping the back of your head, "I'm fine doll, I'm fine," he murmurs, "I'm good now," his lips finding yours. Warm, soft, and welcoming. How are you so soft?

Tension, stress, and fears melt away as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dipping into your mouth, he hears a soft groan, he's not sure if it came from him or you. Probably from him because you taste so good, wine and strawberries on your tongue.

He needs more, so hungry for you, unable to pull away from your mouth, teeth clicking when he pushes you back into the seat. It's passionate and frenzied, his lips slotting back and forth, melding over yours.

He loves you so much and when his hands slide up your thighs, bunching your dress up around your waist, he discovers you're not wearing panties and he loves you a little more. You know him so well, anticipating what he would need when he returned.