It’s Currently 98° Outside And This Is Truly Putting Me In A Fall Mood

it’s currently 98° outside and this is truly putting me in a fall mood

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a truck), dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, biting/marking, pet names, lot of emotions, enemies to loves, reader has an anxiety attack

word count: 11.1k

a/n: this is one of my halloween stories that i published last year on my ao3, but since i didn't have tumblr at the time, i'm posting them here now that it's spooky season. i think this was one of my first times writing enemies to lovers and i really loved how it turned out. even almost a year later it's still one of my favorite fics i've written, so i hope y'all enjoy!

-

“Are you sure I can’t just wait for you guys outside?” you asked, a whine working its way into your voice despite your best effort to hide your simmering anxiety. You looked at your best friend Yelena and her older sister Natasha with wide, pleading eyes as you stood in line for one of the scariest haunted houses in the state. When they both ignored your puppy dog eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself, the chunky sweater you wore doing little to protect you from the crisp autumn wind blowing through the fields. Kicking the ground with your boot, you tried not to shiver in your short skirt—you’d stupidly forgone tights—but it was a near thing.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Yelena promised, knocking her shoulder with yours. Your best friend and her sister had been smarter. Yelena wore black jeans, a cropped t-shirt and a thick yellow flannel jacket to combat the autumn chill, while Nat had on dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a green army-style jacket. “I’m sure if you’re really scared, Bucky will hold your hand.” The blonde waggled her eyebrows at you while Nat snickered.

Something fluttered in your stomach at the thought of holding hands with Bucky Barnes—it was ridiculous how the idea still got a reaction out of you, even after all the years you’d known him—but you kept your face blank as Yelena and Nat both watched you closely. You’d never admitted your crush on Bucky to anyone, let alone your best friend. Annoyingly, Yelena could read you too well and she loved to tease you about your infatuation with Nat’s friend. But you still stubbornly refused to admit it.

So although you hoped with all your heart that her suggestion would become a reality, you forced yourself to make a disgusted face, ignoring the flash of triumph in Yelena’s green eyes. “Bucky would rather chop off his arm than hold my hand—he hates me,” you pointed out, reminding your best friend of the biggest reason you knew hoping for anything more with Nat’s friend would be in vain. Unable to talk about Bucky without the sting of disappointment and rejection piercing your heart, and not wanting it to show on your face, you looked around at the crowded area where you waited in line for the haunted house.

You squinted against the afternoon sun, which was high in the sky, washing the fields and orchards and various red wooden buildings in bright light. Thanks to the chilly breeze, it was the perfect autumn day, which meant everyone had had the same thought as you and your friends and decided to spend the day at the fall attraction.

All around you, groups of people milled about, some joining the long line for the haunted house while others walked past the gigantic barn that housed the spooky attraction and continued on to the rest of the farm and its attractions. The haunted house was just one of many at the Barton Family Farm. There was also a corn maze, a pumpkin patch, an apple orchard, a hay ride through the fields, and a petting zoo for the kids. But although Barton’s boasted plenty to do, the haunted house was the farm’s biggest draw—people came from all over the state to go through it. Barton’s haunted house had a reputation for scaring people so badly they needed to be escorted out by staff, there were multiple exits throughout in case people wanted to bail.

Barton’s haunted house was, of course, what attracted your friends, but you were more excited for pumpkin picking and apple cider donuts. Through a lot of pleading and begging, Yelena had managed to talk you into going through the haunted house with her, Nat and Nat’s friends who were set to meet up with you at any moment. Still, you were reluctant.

Another shiver racked your body and you tightened your arms around yourself as you turned back to your friends. “You know I hate haunted houses, why can’t I just meet you guys at the pumpkin patch or something?” you asked again, the whine in your voice more obvious as your anxiety and fear spiked the closer you got to the front of the line.

“Oh no,” a mocking voice said from behind you. “Is the little baby scared of a haunted house?”

You whirled around and came face to face with Bucky Barnes, his ice blue eyes practically sparking with glee at your discomfort. His full lips were curled up into a cruel smirk set into his scruffy, stubbled jaw. Despite yourself, you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. He was just so damn hot, it wasn’t fair that he hated you so much.

Bucky and his best friend Steve Rogers pulled up next to your group and before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted down Bucky’s body. Despite how stubbornly you avoided talking or thinking about your crush on him, you were helpless when he was right in front of you. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing the way his chest filled out the gray and blue layered shirts he wore, and how his shoulders looked particularly broad in his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed over his dark wash jeans and dark boots before you remembered yourself, forcing your eyes away from Bucky entirely.

Perhaps it was a little childish, but your way of dealing with Bucky—since Nat was always inviting him, Steve and their other friend Sam Wilson to hang out with her, Yelena, and you—was to ignore him. It had the double benefit of keeping up the appearance that you didn’t have a crush on Bucky, and it seemed to frustrate Bucky to no end. You never understood it. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t want you to ignore him either. You hated that his contradictory behavior only made you curious to understand him, instead of turning you off.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warned his best friend as he greeted Nat and Yelena with hugs. He wrapped you up in his arms last, your face squished into the cream cable knit sweater he wore over his own broad chest. Steve squeezed you tight, making you wish—not for the first time—that you had a crush on him instead of his grumpy best friend.

“Barnes wouldn’t know how to be nice if it bit him in the ass,” you sneered as you stepped back from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself again to fend off the autumn chill. It felt colder without Steve’s warmth and you tamped down on the sudden wish to have Bucky’s arms wrapped around you to keep you warm.

“You think about my ass a lot, doll?” Bucky snarked, the pet name rolling of his tongue like an insult. His smirk grew into a full-blown grin and his blue eyes heated.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Bucky was flirting with you, but you shoved that idea aside. Bucky didn’t flirt with you. He mocked you and teased you and did seemingly everything he possibly could to make it clear he didn’t like you. So why did you still like him—it was a question your foolish heart didn’t have an answer for. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting, you looked away from Bucky, ignoring him.

“Knock it off,” Steve scolded, smacking Bucky upside the head. Yelena and Natasha laughed as Bucky’s expression collapsed into a frown while you pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and Nat asked Steve where Sam was as you all shuffled forward with the line. Distractedly, you listened as Steve explained Sam had had to help his sister with something. There were only a handful of groups left between your friends and the door; panic crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe. All of a sudden you realized that not only were you about to subject yourself to being terrified by strangers, but Bucky would be there to witness just how easily scared you were. Dread churned with the anxiety in your stomach, creating a nauseating mix.

Turning to your best friend, you tried to keep your voice low as you spoke so no one overheard. “Lena, please,” you begged, using the nickname you’d given her when you were kids so she’d know how serious you were. “Can’t I skip the haunted house?”

Yelena’s face fell. “You promised we’d do this together,” she said, shooting a furtive look over her shoulder at Nat, Steve and Bucky, who were laughing about something. “You know I hate being alone with my sister and her friends—it makes me feel left out.”

“So come with me to get some apple cider instead,” you urged in a vehement whisper, linking your arm with hers so it might look less suspicious that you and Yelena had your heads bent so close together. Not that Nat wasn’t used to you and Yelena whispering together, you were best friends after all.

Shaking her head, Yelena glanced over her shoulder again. “You know Bucky won’t let either of us hear the end of it if we chicken out now,” she argued.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you looked at your best friend. You knew Yelena didn’t care about Bucky’s teasing as much as you did, but you weren’t sure why she was so adamant about you going through the haunted house. 

Natasha’s laugh rang loudly behind you, making Yelena look back at her sister with love clear in her green eyes and you suddenly realized what was going on. Yelena’s hero worship for her older sister was nothing new to you, and you guessed she was more worried about Nat’s teasing than Bucky’s. You’d long dedicated yourself to helping Yelena live up to the pressure she put on herself to be cool enough for Nat. So if that meant putting up with a little haunted house anxiety and being scared, then it was the price you’d pay for your best friend.

With a dramatic sigh, you squeezed Yelena’s arm tighter in yours so you were inseparable. “Fine,” you relented, giving your best friend a weak smile. “But you’re buying me hot apple cider after this.” Yelena shot you a wide grin before she was distracted by Nat linking arms on her other side.

“You ladies ready to get scared?” Natasha asked in a raucous voice, like she was trying to drum up excitement. Yelena whooped loudly while all you could muster was a half-hearted cheer as fear roiled in your stomach. Steve threw a casual arm around Natasha’s shoulders, ruffling Yelena’s blonde hair a little. She ducked away as much as she could without breaking away from her sister, shooting Steve an annoyed look. He didn’t see it though, too busy reading the rules and warnings for the haunted house that were posted next to the door.

“Don’t forget,” Steve said as your group stepped up, ready to be the next ones let into the barn. “If you get too scared, there are emergency exits along the way.” He shot you a look over your friends’ heads and your face heated, shame climbing up your throat. Your shoulders tensed as you looked away from his kind blue eyes, feeling humiliated that everyone knew how scared you were of a haunted house.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky started, the mocking way he said the pet name making it clear he was talking to you.

Before you could stop yourself and ignore whatever he was going to say, you looked back over your shoulder. His eyes were bright and intent on you—probably excited to see what reaction he’d get out of you, you figured. You were determined to give him nothing.

“Just look for the bright red exit signs,” he said in a fake nice voice. “If you need help, let me know and I’ll point you in the right direction—that is, of course, if you even make it to the first emergency exit.”

Fighting the instinct to show how much his words hurt you, you turned back forward. You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from showing any kind of reaction, even with Bucky unable to see your face. Still, Yelena saw something in your expression.

“Shut up, Bucky,” your best friend snapped, glaring at the man over her shoulder.

Your best friend’s anger lit a fire in your heart and you raised your chin in defiance. You would make it all the way through the haunted house, if only to spite Bucky Barnes and prove to both him and yourself that you could do it. With your newfound courage, you threw a glare at Bucky over your shoulder, but the way he was looking at you took you by surprise.

Bucky’s blue eyes were dark with interest as he took in the determined expression on your face. As you watched, the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. The look on his face had something hot and needy sinking deep into your core, but before you could analyze what it was—and rationalize away the way Bucky looked at you in that moment—the worker at the door ushered your group forward.

The man, dressed like a farm worker covered in blood, pulled the door open and Steve stepped in first. Squaring your shoulders, you put on your best brave face as you followed your friends—but you held onto Yelena’s arm so tight you wondered if she’d lose circulation in her hand. Fear clawed in your stomach, making your heart beat wildly in your chest, as you stepped over the threshold.

Once Bucky followed you through the door, the worker shut it and you were plunged into darkness. Even with the sun shining brightly just outside the door, the dark antechamber was completely pitch black. You bit your lip against a startled scream, surprised at the loss of light. You felt a hand at your lower back and stiffened before realizing it was Bucky. Based on the warmth radiating just behind your shoulder, you could tell he stood close and, despite how much of an asshole he could be, having him close helped to ease some of the fear and anxiety making your heart batter against your ribcage. 

Ahead of you, Steve must’ve found the door to proceed through the haunted house because it cracked open, letting weak yellow light spill into the antechamber. A moment later, you were tugged along by Yelena and Bucky’s hand fell from your back. Immediately, you missed his solidness and warmth.

The Barton Family Farm’s haunted house had a themed story, something about serial killer farm workers who murder people for trespassing in their fields by luring them into the barn. The story seemed to be an excuse to decorate various areas of the barn as torture chambers, with severed limbs and fake blood decorating every surface. You kept your face mostly buried in Yelena’s shoulder, with only one eye peaking out as people dressed like deranged farm hands jumped out at you and your friends.

When you passed by the first emergency exit sign, the red neon making a blood-drenched scene of a man hacking up a body to feed to his pigs all the eerier, pride eclipsed the anxiety for a moment. But then you moved into the next portion of the haunted house and the fear returned in full force.

You and your friends were forced through a narrow corridor, the wooden walls pushing in on either side and making you feel claustrophobic. To make matters worse, hands reached through holes in the wall, grabbing at you and your friends’ clothes. Your heart pounded in your throat, as you felt cornered, like a mouse caught in a trap just waiting to die. Anxiously, you pushed against Yelena, trying to force your friends to go faster, but in your moment of distraction, a hand grabbed at your skirt, making you scream and push harder. In the back of your head, you knew you were being a little silly. It was a haunted house, but the danger and the fear felt real.

At the end of the tight corridor, you and your friends stumbled into a large room made to look like a normal barn, with stalls along the side. Nothing appeared immediately wrong with it, which made your anxiety spike harder. You backed up, bumping into Bucky. His chest felt solid behind you and for just a moment you reveled in it. Then Steve began leading you and your friends through the room and Yelena tugged you away from Bucky. Fear was making your heart beat wildly, your breath coming in short, desperate pulls as you prepared for another jump scare.

When your group reached the center of the room, five deranged farm hands appeared out of the woodwork, all carrying threatening looking farm instruments as they rushed you and your friends with loud battle cries. You, Yelena and Nat all screamed, and even Steve let out a startled shout, jumping apart when the men ran toward you, breaking up your linked arms like an awful game of red rover.

Your panic took over and you ran to the side, realizing too late you’d maneuvered yourself into one of the fake stalls. Actually cornered, your heart beat against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You turned to run, and were met by three of the men blocking the entrance of the stall. A panicked shriek fell from your mouth when they stepped toward you in unison, backing you up against the wall. Tears sprang to your eyes and started leaking down your cheeks as panic clawed at your throat, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were short, sharp gasps for air, but you felt like you couldn’t get any into your lungs. Your gaze went fuzzy through your tears.

“Hey assholes!” a voice shouted over the taunting and the jeering of the men. Blinking away your tears, you saw Bucky barreling through the line of farm hands, shoving one into another to make room for him to get to you. “Can’t you see she’s had enough?” Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders and your arms immediately went around his waist, clinging to him as you wobbled on unsteady legs. Bucky started to lead you out of the stall, but the men tried to block your path. “Get out of my fucking way,” Bucky spat, shooting them a glare so scary they shrank back. 

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body as he led you through the room. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, your breathing still short and panicked. You buried your face in Bucky’s chest, sobbing against his shirt as your whole body shook. You weren’t sure how you even stayed on your feet, but you couldn’t think past the fear and panic and certainty you were going to die.

After a few minutes, Bucky tugged you through a door and you felt cool, fresh air swirl around your shaky legs. The autumn breeze blew through your sweater and made you shiver harder. Your feet stumbled over grass as Bucky pulled you along, but you couldn’t think about where he was leading you. The only thing that registered was your fingers ached and only then did you realize you’d been gripping the lapels of Bucky’s jacket so hard the zipper dug into your palms, leaving marks.

Slowly, you became aware of chatter around you, the sounds of car doors opening and shutting, people talking and laughing. Still, your shoulders shook uncontrollably as anxiety pulsed through your veins and you clung harder to Bucky. He smelled safe, like woodsmoke and something earthy like vetiver. The sounds of the farm and haunted house grew more distant as Bucky kept walking.

Finally, you came to a stop and the sound of a truck door opening next to you pulled your attention away from the way your heart raced in your chest. Opening your eyes for the first time since the haunted house, you glanced around and found Bucky had brought you to his old red pickup truck. He’d parked in a corner of the lot that bordered a couple cornfields. There weren’t any people around, the other cars’ owners back at the farm having fun.

“Up you go, doll,” Bucky murmured, boosting you up onto the driver’s seat, facing him as he stood next to the truck cab. His brow was creased with concern as he frowned at you. It wasn’t until Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and settled it around your shoulders that you realized you were still trembling. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or your anxiety, but you pulled it tighter, relishing the warmth and his smell.

It wasn’t enough, though. Before you could think better of it, you fisted Bucky’s shirt in your hands and pulled him closer, shifting to the edge of the seat and spreading your legs so you could wrap yourself around him. You clung to him tightly as you cried quietly into his shirt.

Bucky tucked your head under his chin and looped his arms around you under his jacket, one hand running up and down your back soothingly. “You’re OK,” he murmured in a low voice that sent warmth curling through your limbs, chasing away the anxiety and adrenaline. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the panic and fear started to drain out of you. Unfortunately, it was replaced by embarrassment as the full extent of the situation hit you like a brick. You hated that Bucky had seen you at your worst—scared to the point of having a panic attack. All over a stupid haunted house.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of humiliation as it washed over you. There was no way Bucky was ever going to let you live this down. And to make it worse, you were still clinging to him like a scared little baby, just like he accused you of being. That reminder was enough to make you desperate to rebuild the walls you’d erected to keep Bucky from seeing you as weak—or worse, as someone who wanted him and his comfort.

As covertly as you could, you wiped at your eyes with your fingers, trying to clear away the mess of makeup your tears had created. Once you’d fixed your face as much as you thought possible, you pulled back from Bucky, a mask of indifference on your face, though it was wobbly at best. Pulling his jacket from your shoulders, you shoved it against his chest, pushing him away so you could put some distance between your bodies.

“Well you must be thrilled,” you said in a prim, sarcastic tone. You kept your gaze fixed on his chin, unable to meet his eyes. He took the jacket from you and tossed it over the back of the truck’s bench seat.

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused, though you couldn’t be sure without looking at him fully, which you refused to do. So you just jutted your chin out defensively, staring at the scruff on his jaw.

“I proved you right, Barnes,” you explained meanly. “I’m a little baby who got so scared in the haunted house I had to be escorted out through an emergency exit.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked away through the windshield of the truck, blinking rapidly to keep your tears at bay. The sun had dropped lower in the sky, painting the cornfield in a golden hue.

“You think that’s what I really think about you?” Bucky demanded in an angry tone, but there was something else in your voice, something you couldn’t name. “Seriously?”

Your frustration grew to a boiling point, enough to give you the courage to finally look at him. His blue eyes were blazing with irritation and, if you weren’t mistaken, hurt. But you pushed that aside because there was no way Bucky could be hurt by your words, you were simply telling the truth. “You literally called me a baby!” you pointed out. “It was the first thing you said to me when you got here!”

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard his head tipped back in annoyance. “You really are going to be the death of me, I swear to fucking god,” he bit out around clenched teeth, his voice harsh.

You let out an indignant screech. “What did I do?” you shot back, meeting his ice blue eyes with your best glare. “Literally what did I ever do to you to make you treat me the way you do?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Bucky shoved his hands into his short brown hair, tugging on the strands as he stepped back from the truck and turned away from you like he could barely stand to look at you. He only gave you a momentary reprieve, though, before he whirled back and jabbed an accusing finger in your direction. “You ignore me!” he accused in a restrained shout, clearly trying to keep his voice down despite his annoyance. “You won’t even look at me unless I’m being mean to you.”

“Are you kidding me!?” you shrieked indignantly, not even bothering to have the same restraint as Bucky. You didn’t care if you drew a crowd, not that it was likely with how far away his truck was parked from the main farm grounds. “You ignored me the first night I met you,” you seethed. “I asked you how you met Nat and you literally grunted and walked away from me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you pressed your lips closed to stop yourself from saying more. It already felt like you’d said too much, which was confirmed by the slack look on Bucky’s face. Horror washed over you as you realized you’d probably just basically told Bucky about your crush. You remembered the night you met, you remembered the exact conversation you’d tried to have with him. He’d have to know how you felt about him after giving away that detail.

In an effort to save face, you let yourself blurt out the first thing you could think to say. “So maybe I ignored you after that, but you deserved it!”

Bucky’s eyes blazed to life as he stepped up to the truck, crowding into your space, his hands resting on the top of the cab as he leaned into you. You wanted to shy away, afraid of your body’s reaction to him being so close—already, you felt a warm thrum in your core and your legs twitched like they wanted to spread for him—but you refused and instead held your ground.

“Fucking hell, that’s what this is about? I wasn’t ignoring you, doll,” Bucky said in a low, harsh voice. His blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, his stare so captivating you couldn’t look away. “I was fucking tongue-tied because I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever met.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between you and Bucky, the tension between you two crackling with energy. Your heart squeezed excitedly in your chest, happy to accept him at his word, but your brain was slower to trust. “What?” you asked in a tight voice as you tried to breathe through your shock and stop yourself from getting too excited.

“You are so fucking pretty you make my head spin,” Bucky said, his hand sliding against your jaw and cupping your chin delicately in his palm. “And if I have to be an asshole to get you to look at me, then I’ll be a fucking asshole,” he explained. His thumb grazed softly over your cheek, his blue eyes reading your expression like you were a language he wished to learn.

It was too much. You and Bucky had known each other for years, you’d been ignoring him at group outings and parties for years, he’d been sniping at you and provoking a reaction out of your for years. You simply couldn’t wrap your mind around the possibility he had feelings for you.

So you settled on a different explanation, one that seemed much more plausible. Righteous anger burned through the delicate hope in your heart, but it felt safer, more comfortable than the scary prospect of having to admit you liked Bucky.

Placing both hands on his chest, you shoved Bucky back and away from you. “Are you seriously messing with me right now?” you demanded accusatorially, already having decided he was. “You’re really such a fucking asshole, Barnes, to stoop this low.”

For a moment, Bucky looked too stunned to speak. He stared at you with a blank look for so long, doubt started to creep in, souring your stomach. But then a fire lit in Bucky’s blue eyes, burning through his icy gaze and threatening to take you down with him in the blaze. Before you could realize what he was doing, he closed the distance you’d created, his hands wrapping around the sides of your face, holding you still as his lips descended on yours.

Bucky brushed a soft kiss against your lips, just ghosting against your mouth before nipping your lower lip in a teasing bite. The sting made you gasp and he took advantage of your parted lips to seal his mouth over yours, swallowing down your moan at the feel of his rough stubble and gentle lips. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was determined to devour you and was simply starting with your mouth.

Bucky’s kiss was heady and all-consuming, your brain blissfully free of doubt and questions and confusion. All you could feel were Bucky’s soft lips and expert tongue. Everything else fell away as you sank deeper into the kiss, letting yourself melt in his hands. Bucky kissed you like he was tempting you to surrender your soul to him and with the press of his lips, and the slide of his tongue, you were more than willing to risk it all.

When Bucky pulled away, it took you a moment to recover, your eyes blinking open dazedly, eyelashes fluttering. You found Bucky hovering close like he couldn’t bear to be too far away from you. His own blue gaze was hooded and a soft happy smile was on his full lips. Slowly, Bucky started to straighten as if wanting to give you space, but you fisted your hands in his shirt collar and tugged him back down, kissing him with the same fervor he’d shown you.

Bucky made a surprised sound that was muffled against your lips, but then he was sinking back into your kiss, his mouth letting you take control. You slid your hands up and into his soft brown hair, arms wrapping around his neck as you held him close, unable to stop yourself from trying to devour him as much as he had you.

As distracted as you were by the kiss, you felt Bucky’s hands smooth over your back through your sweater until he reached your ass. His big hands dug into the leather truck seat to grab you firmly and drag you to the edge. Your legs spread for him, wrapping around his waist as you pressed yourself flush against his broad body. Your core met a hard bulge in Bucky’s jeans, drawing a hiccuping gasp from you that made him grin against your lips.

“Believe me now, baby?” Bucky rasped and you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, the mocking lilt of his voice gave away. But though you’d heard Bucky use a mocking tone plenty of times before, there was a warmth in it now, almost a purr. “D’you believe that I’ve wanted you for years?” He rolled his hips against you, pulling a moan from deep inside you at the feel of his jeans-covered length rubbing against your slit through your panties. “D’you feel how fucking hard you make me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp growl that shot straight to your clit, making heat surge through your body and flood your core.

“I believe you, Bucky,” you said, but deep in your mind you knew it wasn’t the truth—or, at least, the full truth. It’d take longer to really, fully believe him, but you wanted to and that was the first step. So you pushed your doubts and insecurities aside for the moment as he rocked his hips again, making you squirm on the edge of the truck seat, trying to rub against him like a cat in heat. Even through your clothes, he was so hot and hard against your damp, swollen center. It made you dizzy, how much you needed him.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised in a gruff voice, kissing your temple. His hands clutched your ass tighter, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he positioned you just right so he could dig his bulge deeper into your panty-covered slit, pushing between your folds to grind against your clit.

The praise from Bucky’s lips felt so good it made tears prick in your eyes. You never thought you’d hear him say anything so sweet to you, and you loved it so much you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him to say it again. But that was too pathetic, even for you, so instead you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck and tipped your head back, moaning into the truck cab, the sound reverberating through the metal and leather. You humped against Bucky, matching his rhythm, the stimulation making you soak through your panties.

Bucky dug his hands out from under your ass, skating them up your sides and under your sweater, pushing it up until your tits were bared to the chilly autumn air. Your nipples instantly pebbled and Bucky groaned at the sight of them poking through your bra. He bent down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth through the thin lace. When he bit down gently on the sensitive nub, you cried out and rocked harder against his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against your chest, his lips grazing along your skin as he moved to the other nipple. “Grind your sweet little pussy on daddy’s bulge,” Bucky encouraged you in a voice as rough as the gravel under his boots.

Your inner walls clenched at what Bucky called himself and you rolled your head up to look at him through slitted eyes. He caught your gaze as he sucked your tit, letting it pop from his lips so he could grin shamelessly up at you. His blue eyes raked over your face, taking in your reaction to what he’d called himself.

You’d never called anyone you’d hooked up with daddy, but for some reason it felt right with Bucky. You wanted to test it out, see how it’d feel on your lips. Something told you it’d feel dirty in a delicious way. But you bit your lip, still shy around Bucky, still uncertain.

He seemed to read your thoughts on your face, biting your nipple gently and laving it one last time before he dragged his head up to press his forehead against yours, letting your sweater drop back down. He kissed you, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips thrusting against your center. When he pulled back, he was breathing just as heavily as you. “Gotta get you nice and wet so you can take daddy’s cock, right baby?” he asked, his heated blue eyes meeting yours and holding you captive.

More wetness flooded your pussy at his dirty words, and at the way he made you feel safe in his arms. He’d saved you from the haunted house, he’d pined for you just as long as you had. He was proving you could count on him, making up for all those years of being an asshole, you just had to decide to trust him. It didn’t seem like it should be so easy, but you wanted to trust him. So you did.

“Yes, daddy,” you answered in a sweet, breathy voice. You’d been right, it did feel deliciously dirty to call Bucky daddy. The way your tongue and lips formed the word alone felt naughty, sending more heat curling through your already swollen and tingling pussy.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groaned when you called him daddy, scrunching his eyes shut as his hips stilled. His bulge was pressed so tightly against your core, you swore you could feel him throb in his jeans. “You’re so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me come in my pants,” he accused, opening his eyes only wide enough to furrow his brow in a half-hearted glare.

You couldn’t help yourself, Bucky just looked so silly, trying and failing to glare at you while he tried not to come—you giggled. The sound was pure and sweet as it tumbled from your lips. A wide, happy grin spread across your face to match the delighted sound.

Bucky’s jaw went slack and his blue eyes rounded as he witnessed you at the happiest he’d ever seen you and, for the first time, it was because of him, not in spite of him. Before your giggle had died completely, Bucky was smothering you with kisses. He peppered them across your lips and your cheek and your nose and your eyelids—any bit of your face he could reach while you tried to bat him away. His treatment only made you giggle more and try to squirm away, but he banded his arms and held you to him.

“Bucky, stop!” you squealed, leaning back to try to escape. He pulled back, breathless as his eyes raked over your face, relaxing when he saw you were just out of breath from giggling. When you opened your eyes, you caught Bucky staring down at you, affection written plainly across his face, etched into the lines of his eyes and the curves of his mouth.

As you both simply sat there, staring at each other, you watched as doubt creeped into Bucky’s expression. “You want this, right?” he asked in a tender, rumbly voice, staring you directly in the eye as he watched for any sign of hesitation.

A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth. “Bucky,” you started, pausing to gather your courage. With tentative fingers, you brushed his brown hair back from his forehead, eyes focusing on your hand so you wouldn’t have to look at him while you confessed. “I’ve had a crush on you since that first night, I was just too scared to tell anyone—especially you.”

Bucky winced a little when he heard the truth. He knew he’d been an asshole to you for too long to deserve anything less, but he recovered quickly. He ducked down, kissing your sweetly, an apology on his lips. When he pulled away, he voiced the words he should’ve said a long time ago. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you that first night,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your lips when you tried to interrupt him. “And I’m so fucking sorry for being an asshole every day since then.” He sighed against your lips, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get the chance to kiss you, which is why he did it again. “I swear on my fucking life, baby, I’ll never make you feel like anything less than the prettiest girl in the world ever again,” he promised against your lips, sealing it with another kiss.

You kissed him back, matching the vehemence in his words and his lips. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled softly. “Just please, no more haunted houses,” you begged jokingly. You smiled into his skin, dragging your mouth along the scruff of his jaw, feeling it rasp against your swollen lips. You felt the side of Bucky’s mouth curl into a smile, enticing you back to his lips.

“No more haunted houses,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your lips. Bucky’s hands digging under your thighs was your only warning before he used his grip to haul you further into the truck cab, your ass sliding across the bench seat. “But I am going to fuck you in the parking lot of this haunted house,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face as he climbed up into the truck after you. He pulled the door shut behind him to keep out the autumn chill and the distant sounds of the crowded farm.

“Bucky!” you shrieked as he covered your body with his, pressing you into the worn leather seat of his truck. His smell surrounded you, not just because he pressed close to you but because it was embedded in ever fiber of the truck. It felt like you were being cocooned in Bucky and you didn’t want to leave, but you still felt obligated to protest. “Our friends will be looking for us,” you pointed out, but you sounded half-hearted even to your own ears, especially as you parted your thighs for Bucky to slip between.

He ducked his head, kissing up your neck as his hips settled into the cradle of your thighs. Of their own volition, your knees climbed his sides, shifting until the hard bulge in his jeans pressed directly to your aching core. He chuckled when you let out a breathy moan despite your protest.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you for years,” he murmured in between kisses, tilting your head to the side so he could suck on the skin beneath your ear, drawing another moan from your lips. “Fuck our friends, I can’t wait—I need to be inside you, baby, please,” he mumbled, dragging his lips across your throat so you could feel his need spoken into your skin. It sunk down deep inside you, to your bones, your marrow, convincing you of his desire with every breath.

In response, you rocked your hips up, grinding your heat against his bulge. A broken groan stuttered from Bucky’s lips, making you smile. Your need for him was equally insatiable and you gave up any pretense of protesting when he begged you. “I’m all yours, Bucky, take me,” you whispered, dragging his face to yours and slanting your lips against his in a heated kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please, I need you,” you begged in a desperate voice.

Bucky groaned low in his throat at the sound of you begging. “Such a desperate little slut for daddy, huh baby?” he asked in a sweetly patronizing tone, so much like the way he used to speak to you but so, so different. And when you looked up at him, his face was filled with affection.

Skimming his hand up your thigh, Bucky reached under your skirt, pushing it up so it bunched around your waist. His fingers hooked in your panties, and he pulled them down as you lifted up. He sat up enough to maneuver you in the small space to free one ankle, letting your panties dangle from the other as he undid his jeans and pulled his dick out.

Your eyes were glued to the thick cock Bucky pumped in his hand. He was girthy, with veins decorating the side and leading up to his broad mushroom tip. Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, straining for you, precum dripping from the head. Your pussy clenched hard, greedy for Bucky’s cock as you reached for him.

Bucky grinned at the hungry look on your face, pushing you gently back down on the bench seat and pushing your sweater up so he could see your tits. He groped at your soft flesh, tugging on your nipples until your eyes were fluttering closed and moans were falling out of your mouth. Bucky bent over your body, planting a hand on the door above your head so he could hover over you. “Condom?” he asked.

You caught his blue gaze and held it as you shook your head. “No,” you answered firmly. “Want you bare.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky froze for a moment, going so still you could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. “You’re on birth control? You’ve been tested?” he asked in a tight voice like he was forcing the questions out.

You giggled softly, the sound more seductive than cute and you wondered for a brief second where it came from. But then you took stock of Bucky poised above you, his cock so hard in his hand it had turned an angry red color as it leaked from the tip while his eyes and lips were pinched tightly closed. You gave it a long moment before you put him out of his misery—call it a little bit of payback. “I have an IUD, I’ve been tested since my last partner, I’m all good.”

Bucky’s eyes were still pressed shut, but he let out a long breath. “I’ve been tested too—I’m good,” he forced out. When his eyes finally opened, his blue eyes blazed, the intensity of his gaze burning into you, threatening to consume you alive—and you’d happily let it. “Gonna take my cock raw, baby?” His voice was a rasp like the metal grate containing a fire. With his grip on his cock, he slapped the thick head on your clit before rubbing his length between your folds, coating himself with your desire.

You let out a gasp at the feeling of him torturing your pussy. “Yes, daddy,” you answered breathlessly.

“Good thing you’re on birth control, because I’m not fucking pulling out,” he bit out in a harsh tone that sent shivers skating down to your core. His gaze flicked to yours, checking in, and you nodded to let him know you were good with what he was saying and doing. A grin spread across his face as he returned his attention to his cock teasing your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up your tight little cunt with my come,” he promised, nudging your hole with the wide tip of his dick.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, reaching your limit with his teasing. Your hips raised in the air to try to take him into your pussy, but Bucky backed off, sitting back on his haunches. When you reached for him, he moved his hand from the door and threaded his fingers through yours. Placing a kiss to each of your fingers, he stared down at you like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you spread out beneath him.

“I love it when you beg, baby,” he said finally. “Makes me wanna give you the world.” An impish grin pulled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “But you’ll have to settle for my cock—for now,” he teased, leaning down over you again, pressing your clasped hands against the seat next to your head. With his other hand, he lined his cock up at your entrance and he breathed hard as he teased you just a little bit more. “So wet for me, baby, such a good girl for daddy,” he murmured praises just before he pushed inside.

Bucky let out a long, deep groan as his cock sunk deep into your pussy, feeling your wet heat clutch at his hardness. The stretch of his thick girth stole the breath from your lungs as he slid in to the hilt in one steady thrust. He paused there, giving you both time to adjust. “Fuck,” he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. “More, daddy, please—need you, need more,” you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where you ended and he began. You didn’t know how you could ever get enough of this man. In such a short time, he’d made you feel safe and loved and you felt like you were cracking apart, opening yourself up to him. His sweet words and gentle touches had awoken a ravenous hunger in your heart and you wanted him closer, you wanted to consume him and be consumed in return.

Giving you what you asked for, Bucky pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. “So good, so good, baby, so fucking good for daddy,” he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for you. Your face pressed into Bucky’s neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. “Daddy—daddy, need you, more, please,” you begged, knowing you weren’t making any sense. Your legs locked around his waist, booted feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn’t pull out more than an inch.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Is this what you needed, sweet girl?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck and wrenching you away from where you were sucking hickies into his throat so he could look in your eyes. “Need to be pinned down with daddy’s cock buried balls-deep in your cunt?” He settled his weight almost entirely on top of you, watching as your eyes went hooded with delight, a dazed smile curling your lips. “D’you need daddy to mark you up, baby?” he asked, ducking down and nudging the collar of your sweater to the side so he could suck your skin between his teeth until you were both sure he’d leave a mark. “D’you need daddy to take you, hard and rough and filthy?” he demanded a moment before he sank his teeth into a spot toward the back of your neck right on the edge of your hairline.

A sharp cry fell from your lips as Bucky bit you, but it dissolved into a moan when he pulled back and licked the spot. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Bucky. Your head felt hazy, like you were buzzed, but all you were drunk on was Bucky’s cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck, jesus fuck, that’s it, take it baby, take it,” he groaned into your ear, rolling his hips against yours in tight movements, grinding into your cunt and clit until you were a panting, needy mess beneath him. “Love seeing you fucked out and cock drunk for me, baby,” he huffed as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy, aren’t you baby?”

All you could do was whimper and nod, trying to keep your eyes open so you could look into Bucky’s blue gaze as he leaned up and looked down at you. He watched as pleasure contorted your face, delighting in the way your jaw dropped open when he hit a particular spot deep inside you.

“Good girl, good girl,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers over your sweaty forehead and dropping down to kiss your lips. He nuzzled his scruff against your cheek like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

You understood the feeling. Your fingers gripped Bucky’s hand still laced in yours, the other threading into his soft brown hair while your heels dug into his strong thighs, keeping him locked against your body. If you thought you could endure letting him go, even only for a moment, you would’ve begged him to rip your clothes off so you could feel his skin against yours. But you couldn’t even fathom untangling your bodies in that moment.

“My perfect girl, you feel so good,” Bucky murmured, trailing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, possessively. “Need you to come for me, baby, need you to come on my cock,” he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. “Fuck, I can’t stop, baby, ‘m gonna come.” He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. “Come on daddy’s cock, baby, come for daddy,” Bucky rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge. “That’s it, that’s it, be my good girl, baby, please,” he begged.

The desperation in Bucky’s voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. You clutched his fingers in yours, nails digging into the back of his hand, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into the soft cotton covering Bucky’s shoulder, you muffled a scream into his shirt, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it baby, that’s a good girl,” Bucky praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby, gonna make daddy come,” he mumbled, his free hand digging between your body and the leather seat to grip your ass.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he’d leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, daddy,” you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. “Fill me up with your come—need it, need you,” you whined, squirming beneath him.

“Fuck—fuck,” he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down to the seat with his hips. “Take it, baby, take my come,” he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. “Good girl,” he panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Bucky collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. “So good for daddy, baby,” he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Bucky’s hair, the short strands soft against your skin, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

After a few minutes of recovering, Bucky sat up and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it while he stared down at you, love and affection burning bright in his blue eyes. “What’re the chances I can convince you to let me take you home now so we can do that again?” he asked, a playful smile curling his lips.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from immediately agreeing. You wanted to spend time with Bucky and get to know him in ways you’d only previously dreamed—not just with more sex, but being able to talk to him without the weight of both your anger and hurt hanging around your necks. But the last you saw your friends, you and Bucky were bailing on the haunted house, and you knew you should check in with them. Plus, you’d been looking forward to all the other autumnal fun Barton’s Family Farm offered and you’d be damned if you left after just the haunted house.

“But I want apple cider and donuts,” you said, pouting up at Bucky, widening your eyes to exaggerate your puppy dog look.

Bucky immediately caved, unable to resist giving you whatever you wanted, especially since it was easily within his power. “I’ll buy you all the apple cider and donuts you want, baby” he promised, ducking down to give you a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, though, he had a greedy look in his eye. “But then you’re coming home with me, yeah?”

A grin bloomed across your face. “Yeah,” you agreed easily and Bucky gave you an answering smile, like it was a natural reaction to seeing you happy.

As Bucky righted himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and zipping them back up, it occurred to you that you’d never seen him so relaxed, and you didn’t think it had to do with the sex you’d just had. When he looked up, he caught you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, a little uncertainly. His fingers reached up to smooth over the burgeoning marks on his neck. “Are the hickies too noticeable.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and looped your arms around his neck. “No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was looking at,” you said. At his raised eyebrow, you went on. “You’re so handsome,” you said in a fake dreamy voice, a little bit of teasing in your words. Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away, just smiled down at you fondly, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek. He waited you out long enough that what you really wanted to say finally rolled off your tongue. “You’re happy, right?” Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion but before he could answer, you continued. “Because I’m happy—this might be the happiest I’ve been in a long time and if you’re going to take me back to our friends and pretend like nothing happened, I need to know now.

A troubled expression was on Bucky’s face by the time you stopped talking. “Hey, no,” he said, when you finished. “I’m happy—I told you I’ve wanted this for years,” he reminded you, ducking his head down so he could look at you face to face. “I’m not gonna be that asshole again to you, ever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours like he could root out all the insecurity and squash it. “If I need to spend the next couple months or years proving that to you, I will, OK?”

Stupid tears welled up in your eyes but you blinked them back and gave Bucky a watery smile, your heart feeling like it could burst you were so happy. Bucky leaned in and kissed the apples of your cheeks, first one then the other, before dipping down to kiss your lips. By the time he was done, your eyes were dry. “Ready to get back out there?” he asked and you nodded.

With gentle hands, Bucky used some napkins from the glovebox to clean you up as well as he could, then helped you fix your clothes. He took you by the hand and led you out of the truck. When you hopped out, you shivered in the autumnal chill, immediately wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the cold. Bucky noticed and reached back into his truck to grab his leather jacket, helping you into it before kissing you once more. You smiled against his lips, grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the farm.

It didn’t take long to find your friends—they were standing near the hot apple cider stand, holding paper cups of the steaming beverage and sharing from a cardboard dish of cider donuts. Yelena was the first to notice you and Bucky walking toward the group, your hands linked and you wearing his jacket. She turned to her older sister, pointing a finger in Natasha’s face as she screeched, “I told you! I told you it would work!” Cinnamon sugar spewed from the blonde’s mouth as she yelled and she didn’t even bother to wipe it off her chin before turning to Steve, who had his hand up for a high five, slapping her palm against his.

The corners of your mouth pulled down into a confused frown. “What’re you talking about Lena?”

But Yelena was too busy executing an elaborate victory dance to respond, so Steve chimed in with an explanation. “Yelena has been determined to make you guys admit you have feelings for each other—”

“That you love each other,” Yelena butted in, finally done with her dance. She passed one of the paper cups she’d been holding over to you and you wrapped both your hands around it, basking in the warmth while Bucky slid behind you, looping his arms loosely around your waist. Yelena’s sharp green eyes watched it all.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered shaking his head at his friend’s little sister. “Anyway, she had a plan that we go through the haunted house and you’d get scared and Bucky would swoop in and protect you,” Steve finished. “Nat didn’t think it would work,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” the redhead said, shrugging unapologetically, but her eyes and smile were warm as she too didn’t miss the way Bucky touched you so easily. Your face heated, realizing both your friends had probably already surmised you’d slept with Bucky.

“So let me get this straight,” Bucky started slowly, his eyes fixed on his best friend, completely unaware of the knowing looks Yelena and Natasha were giving the two of you. “You deliberately tortured my girl just to prove a point?”

Yelena squealed and looked at you with wide, excited eyes when Bucky called you his girl, almost drowning out the rest of his sentence. You couldn’t help the goofy grin plastered to your face in response, nor did you want to. Yelena raised her eyebrows in silent demand for more information, and you even caught Nat giving you the same look. You shot them both a look that said you’d tell them later.

The boys were completely oblivious of your exchange with your friends. “Well she wasn’t technically your girl yet—even if you’ve had a thing for her for a couple years,” Steve pointed out, his face twisting up like he was fighting to keep the guilt out of his expression.

You felt Bucky tense behind you and craned your neck to look up at him, taking a sip of your drink. He’d tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at Steve, anger simmering in his blue eyes. Even though he was facing off with his own friend, his gaze held more ire than you’d ever seen directed at you. If you thought about it, Bucky had usually had a kind of pained look on his face when he’d said those mean things to you. Sadness swept over you at the thought of all the time you’d wasted being jerks to each other. Unable to hold yourself back, you snuggled into him.

Your movement caught Bucky’s attention and he finally looked away from Steve, his face shifting before your eyes from a glare to an expression filled with affection. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned back to your friends with a much more relaxed look. Reaching out, he plucked a cider donut from the cardboard dish, holding it in front of you until you took it.

You took a big bite of the sweet pastry and groaned in happiness. Against your ass, you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and you had to hide your smile behind another bite of donut.

“Semantics,” Bucky said in response to Steve’s comment, a smile on his lips as he watched you eat your donut happily. “Anyway, thanks to you all, I made a promise to my girl and I plan to keep it.”

“What promise?” Yelena asked, curiosity lighting her green eyes as her gaze bounced back and forth between you and Bucky. Your best friend was practically gleeful, but you knew it wasn’t just because she had been right and her plan had worked, you could see in her face that she was happy for you. As you sipped the hot apple cider she’d bought you, you realized you’d already forgiven her for the deception.

“Well actually it was two promises,” Bucky amended. You looked up at him in confusion. “I promised her all the apple cider and no more haunted houses.” Bucky leaned down, your lips bumping clumsily against each other as you both struggled to stop smiling long enough to kiss. But then Bucky’s tongue licked some of the cinnamon sugar from your lips and you had to choke back a moan as he kissed you possessively right there in front of your friends.

“Get a room,” Natasha jeered at the same time Yelena whooped and Steve clapped obnoxiously. You laughed against Bucky’s lips, pulling apart, warmth burning in your cheeks.

That wasn’t the last time your friends teased you and Bucky that night, but you were both too happy to care too much. Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether he was wrapping an arm around your shoulders, linking his fingers with yours, or squeezing your butt as discretely as possible, he was always touching you. He kept it up through all the fall activities—the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and another round of apple cider and donuts.

And then at the end of the night, Bucky took you home and showed you again and again how happy you made him. Over the following days and months and years, he proved to that you could trust him to never be mean to get your attention again—and you showed him you’d never ignore him or your feelings for him. Bucky showered you with love and affection until the memories of you ignoring him and him being an asshole to get your attention were replaced entirely with happy ones.

He also kept his promises, taking you back to Barton’s Family Farm every year for all the apple cider and donuts you could eat—but always skipping the haunted house—kissing the sugar and cinnamon from your lips until you let him take you home.