còsagach
Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 511 | Warning: Bucky being soft af🥺
Summary: You & Bucky share a soft moment in bed before drifting off to sleep.
A/N: I’ve had this little series of one shots planned for a very long time and I was inspired to write a lil somethin’ somethin’ last night. You can find the collection here.
It’s late in the evening, around one in the morning when Bucky finally settles into bed. You’ve already been nestled between the sheets and quilt for a few hours, your current read tucked up under your chin and the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating each peak and valley of your features. You greet him with a gentle hum of acknowledgment as he gets comfortable beside you. He lays, like always, on his right side, flesh arm tucked up under his head so that he can watch you read. Admittedly, it’s one of his favorite activities to do, one of his favorite places to be. The domesticity of it all left a feeling of hope, so pure and raw, deep in his bones; the hope that this is what his life can be despite all that has been done.
With the soft turn of your novel’s page, a content sigh passes your lips, and Bucky thinks that maybe you feel the same way; perhaps this is what you want your life to be, too. Late nights put to rest with a bedtime story, and the knowledge that any monsters hiding under the bed will be fought off together.
“You’re staring,” you laugh as you side-eye him. Your smile and the way it scrunches your face, how your cheeks grow full of love and happiness reserved just for him, is the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen. He decides then that you deserve to be reminded of how wonderful you are always and forever.
“I just think you’re beautiful, that’s all,” comes his lazy response. He’s tired, knows he will slip into the warm grasp of unconsciousness before you find a good stopping point in your book. But that’s okay because whatever makes you happy makes him happy too.
With a quick shift and a slight pull in his direction, Bucky tucks his metal arm - the arm he never knew was capable of a tender, loving touch - firmly around your middle and rests his head just under your chest. You let out a surprised huff and peek around your book at him.
“Would you like me to turn off the light?” you ask gently, always so concerned about him and his comfort. He shakes his head, uses it as an excuse to nuzzle further into you. Only a few moments pass before your hand finds its way to his hair, soft fingers running along his hairline before burying themselves into the brunette locks. It’s his turn to let out a hum when you start to massage and rake across his scalp the way he enjoys. The gentle rise and fall of your breaths and the sound of your heartbeat lull him quietly into sleep, but not before he hears you murmur, “I love you.”
