anonymous requested: Bucky fluff! He needs to be happy. One morning he wakes up before you and you’re turned to face away from him. He starts tracing shapes on your back and you wake up, but still pretend to be asleep. You feel him trace “Will you marry me?” You turn over and face him and trace “Yes” on his arm. :)
tagging: @redgillan, @mattymattymerduck, @avengerofyourheart, @wakandasoldier, @darlingbuchanan, @bemystucky, @idorkish, @iwillbeinmynest, @aubzylynn, @angryschnauzer, @almondbuttercup, (and just for fun) @bovaria, @hymnofthevalkyries, @beccaanne814-blog, @capsbuchanan, @brighterlights, @bbbarneswrites, @writingbarnes, @buckysglow, @buckyskorpion, @austinamelio, @bionic-buckyb
warnings: nudity, implied smut
additional: i realize now that my fics either start with the character waking up in the morning or waking up in the middle of the night. also i’m bad at titles. thank you for the request!
The warmth of the sun on his face woke him up. Around nine o’clock, Bucky opened his eyes and was immediately met with an image of you, asleep, curled up with your back to his. He grinned at the sight of you, your body still bare after the events of last night, save for the covers tangled haphazardly around your hips. He let his eyes trail down your frame, following the curve of your shoulder, the shadow of your lower half beneath the blanket. His gaze paused to admire the ridges of muscle in your back, and he felt the urge to touch you again, so he did, grazing your shoulder blade with his fingertips. He used his right hand so he could truly feel the soft, warm pliancy of your skin.
It always felt unreal to him, the fact that he could touch you like this, not even because he wanted to, but because you liked it. You wanted him, and after all this time, it was still unbelievable to him. He loved you, and you loved him back. He hadn’t ever felt this way before, so sure of what he wanted, whom he wanted. He wanted to lay there in bed with you forever, tucked under the covers and tangled up in each other. He wanted to spend every waking moment with you, protecting you, holding you, kissing you. He wanted just as badly to be protected by you, held by you, kissed by you. Bucky knew what he wanted; he just couldn’t believe you felt the same way. You loved him. And the thought of you loving him brought a giddy smile to his face.
You made a soft, tired sound, and Bucky felt you stir beneath his hand. His smile deepened, and he could see that you were pretending to sleep now. He stroked your back, drawing swirls across your skin, listening to your breath as it sped up just slightly, notifying him that you were indeed awake. Fine. He wanted to ask you this aloud, but if you were going to be a tease, so would he. He scooted closer to you and went back to tracing shapes on your back, slowly, efficiently, hoping you would realize what he was doing. W-I-L-L… Y-O-U…
Bucky hadn’t even started the last word when you turned over in bed suddenly, launching yourself at him with a squeal of delight. He laughed while you lay on top of him, kissing his face over and over and over. “Good morning to you, too,” he muttered while you held your lips to his cheek and made exaggerated smooching sounds.
You pulled back to gaze down at him, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. You were smiling; the sight made his heart swell in his chest. He could feel your fingers on his arm, but he was too lost in you to understand what you had traced. “Yes,” you murmured to him, your voice soft.
Bucky blinked, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Yes?” he repeated, dazed. “You mean—”
“Yes! My answer is yes, James!” you exclaimed. You brushed a strand of hair from his face—so delicately, he almost sighed with content—and kissed his temple. Smooch. “You’re such a romantic, admit it.”
Bucky scrunched up his nose in faux disgust. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes.” Smooch. “You are.”
“Yes!” Smooch, smooch.
“You already said ‘yes’ to me, doll.”
“Oh, I’m not your doll.” This time you smooched the spot right between his eyebrows, then the tip of his nose, the cleft in his chin. “I’m your spouse.”
“You’ll always be my doll.” His hand had found its way to the back of your thigh; he squeezed it affectionately, and his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. He tilted his head up to kiss your lips but you pulled back just out of reach. He frowned, brows knitted together in a pout. “And we’re not even married yet, sweetheart.”
“Key word: ‘yet’.” You kissed the corner of his lips, eyeing him cheekily. Your mouth ghosted over his, waiting for his next move.
Bucky grinned and kissed you back.