Bucky One-Shots and Imagines

Confessions

Her hands straightened the lapel of his coat, lean fingers running along the collar and tugging it into place. He smiled down at her face, which was scrunched up in concentration, her tongue poking out the edge of her mouth. She smiled in accomplishment, once she'd finally gotten it to sit straight and pecked his lips.

He grabbed her wrist as she fluidly moved away from him and pulled her into his embrace. Hands around her waist, traveling dangerously close to her ass before coming back up and running soothing lines on her bare back, cold metal against hot skin. She bit her lip as she looked up into his stormy blue eyes, dramatically darkened with lust.

His lips itched to say the words. Those three magical words and then,

she would be his.

But then, it would become too real.
And then she would want to leave.

She waited, for him to say something, for him to commit himself to her, for her to be able to confirm that he returned her feelings. She knew that he would.

But nothing.

Instead he conveyed his emotions through a deep and powerful kiss gripping her so tight, it was as if she was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Which she was.

She felt nothing but ecstasy in that moment, as she kissed him back with just as much raw passion. All she wanted was him. Nothing more, nothing less. He made her so happy. So very happy.

He pulled away with one last tender kiss on her swollen lips, and she buried her head in his chest, breathing in the familiar and calming scent of peppermint and wood.

"I...," He began softly and her breath hitched in her throat.

"I think we should go now," He finished with a sigh and she released a puff of air, mildly from frustration but mostly from the amount of his cologne she'd been inhaling.

She dislocated herself from his grasp and nodded stiffly before grabbing her clutch from the kitchen counter and walking out the door.

His stomach churned with guilt and sadness at the fact that he might've upset her and he felt sick. Releasing a shaky breath, he followed her out the door, closing it behind him. She was waiting at the elevator, beautiful as ever in a red, backless evening gown that complimented her skin tone perfectly.

She took one glance at him and suddenly softened. He was fiddling with his tie, his hands trembling at the knot, his face creasing with anguish that he was clearly trying to hide, as he simultaneously blew a few rogue tendrils that had escaped his man-bun out of his face.

Once he was done he stepped into the elevator that she was holding for him, next to her. She slipped her hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze and instantly felt him relax. She rested her head on his shoulder as the elevator travelled down.

***
The party, it was safe to say, was a success.
For her anyways.

For him, it could've gone worse, but it still wasn't the best evening he'd had. He looked at his elbow, firmly linked with hers and couldn't help the small smile tickling his lips.

At least she was there with him.

She leaned in onto her tip toes, he breath faint against his ears. He leaned into her touch and she smiled to herself, shaking her head before whispering, "I'm gonna go hang with the girls for a while,"

He froze at her statement, "Alright,"

"You sure you'll be fine on your own?"

He shot a her an uncertain smile, "Positive,"