Bucky Barnes X Black!reader - Blog Posts

We need more reader inserts with a chronically ill reader. That’s it. That’s the post.

Do people still do song based fics? I used to love those but I don’t really see them around any more. Would yall be interested in me making a song list? As potential inspiration and stuff like that. If so also feel free to send in song suggestions in my request to add to it.

I just think that if one time, while they are engaged, Peach called Baker Bucky hubbby on accident, his brain would short-circuit 😂🥰

Summary: Bucky loves the fact that he's going to be your husband

Pairing: Chubby Baker Bucky x Reader

CW: Bucky being LoveStruck.

A/N: Written on my phone.

Bucky's chatting with the farmer in front of his stall, balancing a wicker basket of freshly harvested plums on his hip. Every so often, his gaze strays to the left, his warm blue eyes drifting up and down your bundled-up body.

A smile tugs at his lips because he's the only one in this market who knows that underneath your oversized coat, his sweater (that you stole just as he was about to put it on), and those pants that make him want to bite one of your cheeks, you're wearing his marks like they're your favorite jewels.

You're not far away, standing in a booth covered in handcrafted plushies, knick-knacks and holiday ornaments. Although if he's being honest, any distance away from him is too far. So he ends the conversation, telling Frank he'll be back next week to try out his apricots.

Five long strides and he's within earshot of you.

"I have to get this, it reminds me so much of my husband. Soon to be anyway," you laugh, picking up the miniature stuffed bear wearing a baker's hat and holding a tiny croissant. "He's going to love this."

Bucky feels his heart stop. It hits his ribcage and stops right in his chest. Emotions billow inside him, warming more than the autumn sun ever could. His grip loosens on the basket, a few plums hitting the tall, damp grass with a faint plop.

Husband. He likes the sound of it on your lips. Your husband. He's going to be your husband.

You turn your head, a smile forming. "Bucky are you alright?"

"No. Yes. I-yes," he stammers out, closing the distance between you, his hands reaching for your face. He's disoriented and he knows he's not making sense but the part of brain that's still functioning knows it wants you, needs you right now.

"Wha-Bucky!" You quickly grab the handle of his basket, saving the rest of his plums. You have seconds to slide the basket onto the booth and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is—well you understand what people mean when they say time stopped because that's how it feels with his soft lips molding over yours, his large hands cupping your face, your fingers sliding through his hair.

He's passionate and desperate and sinfully sweet. His kiss leads to another and another. Around the seventh time he slides his lips over yours, you decide you can easily spend the rest of your life kissing this man.

But you are blocking Sarah's booth and is she—yeah she's taking a picture, you and Bucky are going to be the talk of her bingo night. You break the kiss, leaning back when he instinctively follows you with a low displeased groan like you just snatched his favorite dessert from him.

"C'mere," he mumbles. "Just one more Peach."

Moving to your tiptoes, you brush your lips over his , swiftly pulling back before he can capture your mouth again. Giggling softly when he makes a disgruntled noise in his throat, you pat his chest, ignoring his pout. "We can finish this when we get home Bucky."

Or when you get to the car. Judging by the look in his eyes, its going to be the car.

"You wanna tell me what brought that on?" you ask as you hand a grinning Sarah a twenty.

A blush flares across his rounded cheeks, pressing his kiss swollen lips together, he shrugs one broad shoulder. Your words play in his mind and he briefly wonders if you'd let Bruce marry the two of you right now, right here in the middle of the farmers market. His gaze sweeps over face, lingering on your gorgeous eyes. No, he can wait, you deserve the wedding of your dreams. Until then he'll dream about being your husband.

Realizing you're still waiting for his answer, Bucky clears his throat, wraps his arm around you and picks his basket and miniature baker up.

"Just felt like kissing you." Always will.

"That's fine with me," you hum, leaning into his side. "Love you Bucky."

His response is a quick as it is genuine. "I love you too Peach." With everything he has.