bandsofmarv

[bandsofmarv]

[bandsofmarv]

This is a sad one so be prepared!

Shifting to you…

Reader shifts each night to Mattheo to escape her reality.

Mattheo Riddle was no stranger to the strange and impossible. Being the Dark Lord’s son meant living in the shadows of secrets and power, but nothing could have prepared him for you.

At first, he thought you were like everyone else—just another student navigating the chaos of Hogwarts. But there was something about you, something he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just your presence, though that was enough to make his pulse race. It was the way you looked at the world—as if it was temporary, as if you didn’t quite belong.

Then, the inconsistencies started.

One day, you knew spells he was certain weren’t in the curriculum. The next, you hesitated before saying his name, as if you expected someone else to be standing there. You’d disappear for days at a time with no explanation, only to return with a distant look in your eyes and knowledge you shouldn’t have.

Mattheo was clever. Too clever to ignore the pieces falling into place.

So, he watched.

And then he saw it—really saw it.

One moment, you were there, your fingers brushing against his as you passed him in the library. The next, you flickered. It was brief, like a candlelight in the wind, but he saw it. One second, you were solid, real. The next, you were gone.

He barely managed to hold back the shiver that ran down his spine. He wasn’t losing his mind. You were leaving. Leaving this world. Leaving him.

The realization burned through him, a wildfire of desperation and obsession. He needed to know. He needed to understand. And more than anything, he needed to stop you from slipping through his fingers again.

So he cornered you.

It was late—far past curfew—when he found you standing near the Astronomy Tower, staring at the sky as if it held the answers to all the questions in your mind. He approached slowly, like a predator stalking prey, until he was close enough to see the tension in your shoulders.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

You stiffened, but didn’t turn to face him. “Mattheo—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice dangerously soft. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you vanish. I’ve seen the way you hesitate, the way you know things you shouldn’t. What are you?”

Finally, you turned, and he hated the look in your eyes. Regret. Sadness. A secret too big to keep but too dangerous to share.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I don’t belong in this world.”

His jaw clenched. “Then why do you keep coming back?”

You looked at him like he was the answer to a question you weren’t supposed to ask. And maybe he was. Maybe that was the problem.

“Because of you.”

The confession hit him harder than any curse ever could. His heart pounded in his chest, a chaotic rhythm of want and fear. He should have been angry. He should have demanded more answers. But all he could think about was that you had a choice—a choice to be anywhere, in any world—and yet, you still chose to be here. To be with him.

It had started slowly. At first, you had convinced yourself it was just curiosity. That shifting into this world was nothing more than an adventure, an escape from the monotony of reality. But then there was Mattheo—wild, reckless, sharp-tongued and sharper-witted. He was trouble wrapped in charm, darkness with just enough light to make you believe you could reach him.

You’d watched him when he thought no one was looking. The way his hands clenched when he was angry, the way his lips curled in a smirk that barely hid the vulnerability beneath. He acted like he didn’t care, but you knew better. He cared too much. It was written in the way he fought, in the way he laughed, in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

You fell for him in stolen moments—the late-night conversations when the world was quiet, the times he protected you without asking why, the way he always seemed to be there, as if he could sense when you needed him. And maybe he could. Maybe that was the terrifying part.

“That’s not good enough,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I won’t let you leave me.”

Your lips parted, but before you could protest, he lifted a hand and cupped your jaw, his touch searing. “You shift between worlds, don’t you? You think you can just slip away whenever you want.” His thumb brushed over your cheek. “But I don’t care what world you come from. I’ll find you. I swear it.”

Your breath hitched. “Mattheo—”

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “And I don’t care what it takes, I’ll follow you through every reality until you realize it too.”

[bandsofmarv]

I would like to make a request where Reader and Bucky just met. Reader visits Bucky in the compound and sees Bucky with Nat and is sad because she thinks there is something going on between them or Bucky is in love with Nat and withdraws. Bucky misses her and shows her that she's the only one he's interested in?

Hey guys! I’m back :)

Love this idea! Hopefully you like :)

Favourite widow

The first time you met Bucky Barnes, something clicked into place—like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing. He had been charming in that quiet, brooding way, his smirks rare but worth every moment they appeared. There was something unspoken between you both, lingering in stolen glances and casual touches that lasted just a second too long.

It wasn’t love, not yet. But it could be. Or so you thought.

Because now, sitting in the corner of the compound’s lounge, you watched as Bucky stood beside Natasha, laughing at something she said. His usual serious demeanor softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. Nat playfully nudged him, and he responded by leaning in, murmuring something only for her to hear. The sight made your stomach twist.

You should’ve known. Of course, he’d be into Natasha. She was beautiful, confident, and had history with him. And you? You were just… there.

So, you did what you always did when something hurt—you distanced yourself.

You stopped seeking Bucky out, stopped lingering near him in training, stopped waiting for those soft, lingering looks. You convinced yourself it didn’t matter, that whatever spark had been there was just a fluke, a fleeting moment you’d imagined.

Bucky noticed almost immediately.

At first, he thought he was overthinking it. But after days turned into weeks, after the way you pulled back from him completely, he knew something was wrong.

So now here you were, alone in the kitchen late at night, stirring your tea absentmindedly when a deep voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You avoiding me, doll?”

You nearly dropped your mug. Turning, you found Bucky leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. His brows were drawn together, lips pressed in that familiar frown you’d come to know.

You forced a casual shrug. “Been busy.”

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, stepping closer. “You barely look at me anymore. Did I do something?”

The frustration in his voice made your throat tighten. “No, Bucky. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?” You hesitated, staring at your tea as if it held the answer. Maybe it was stupid, childish even, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I just didn’t want to get in the way,” you muttered.

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “In the way of what? You exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “Of you and Nat.”

“Me and Nat?” His lips parted in disbelief before he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Doll, there’s nothing between me and Nat.”

You blinked. “But I saw you—”

“We’re just friends,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His voice softened. “She was giving me advice. About you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Me?”

He nodded, blue eyes never leaving yours. “I thought… I thought we had something, but you started pulling away, and I didn’t know why. I missed you.” His voice was quieter now, a little unsure. “Still do.”

Your breath hitched. “Bucky…”

He took another step forward, so close now you could see the flecks of silver in his stormy gaze. “Tell me I didn’t imagine it,” he murmured. “Tell me you felt it, too.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I did,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Bucky exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding. Then, without hesitation, he reached for you, fingers gently curling around your wrist. “Then let’s stop pretending,” he murmured.

And when his lips brushed against yours—soft and certain—it felt like something finally falling into place.

Just you and him.

[bandsofmarv]

The unraveling of us

Rafe’s possessive and jealous behaviour leads you to question the relationship and one night goes too far.

Trigger warning // abuse, jealousy, possessive behaviour , violence. DARK.

This will be a series

You weren’t sure when Rafe’s love began to feel more like a cage. In the beginning, it had been intoxicating—the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. His attention made you feel special, chosen. But as time passed, the intensity of his affection twisted into something darker, something suffocating.

You had always been a Pogue, one of the “lower” class on the island, and Rafe had always been the Kook. It didn’t make sense when you first got together. You had always been worlds apart—he, with his money, his power, and his perfect life; you, with your friends, the laughter, the simple joys. But somehow, against all odds, it had started. And for a while, it felt like maybe he was different, maybe he’d see past the social divide between your worlds.

But it didn’t take long for the cracks to start showing.

It started with little things. He’d make snide comments about your friends, the Pogues. “Don’t hang out with them too much,” he’d say, voice dripping with superiority. “They don’t know how to treat you right.”

Then came the jealousy. The first time you caught him glaring at JJ, you thought you imagined it. But when it happened again, and again, you realized Rafe had a problem with anyone who so much as looked at you.

“Just… don’t talk to him, okay?” he’d say, his voice tight, watching as JJ cracked jokes from across the room. “He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t care about you like I do.”

It didn’t take long before those comments turned into orders. He’d show up uninvited when you went out, glaring at your friends, making you feel like you couldn’t be anywhere without his eyes on you. He’d show up at the Tannyhill parties, always hovering close by, a constant reminder that you were his. And he made it clear that no one else could get too close.

───୨ৎ────୨୧────୨ৎ───୨ৎ────

The night of the party, the tension between you and Rafe was palpable. The car ride over had been thick with silence. You had tried to talk about the things that had been bothering you, but he’d just brushed you off, the same dark glint in his eyes.

“Why do you always make this harder than it needs to be?” he muttered, his fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel. “I just want you to be mine, Y/N. Why can’t you just be with me and forget about the rest of them?”

You had tried to argue, tried to explain that you loved your friends, that you didn’t need his permission to spend time with them. But it was no use. Rafe didn’t listen. He was too focused on controlling you.

The party was a blur. Music thumped in the background as you mingled, laughing with your friends. But every time you caught someone’s gaze, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, burning a hole into your back. You could practically feel the possessiveness radiating off him.

JJ was the first one to approach you. His easy grin spread across his face as he handed you a drink. “You look like you’re surviving this chaos,” he joked, nudging you playfully.

“Just about,” you laughed, relaxing for the first time that night.

But then you felt it—Rafe’s presence, looming behind you. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze was like a storm. His jaw clenched as he watched you and JJ laughing together, and you could see his grip on his drink tighten.

“Don’t talk to him, Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was cold, cutting through the lightheartedness.

You turned around, your heart sinking. “What?”

“I said, don’t talk to him,” Rafe repeated, his voice lower this time, dark and sharp.

JJ glanced between the two of you, raising an eyebrow. “Dude, relax. We’re just talking.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you. His eyes never left JJ, full of something dangerous.

“Rafe, please, stop.” Your voice wavered as you tried to step between them. But before you could reach him, Rafe grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him with a force that made your chest tighten.

“Don’t touch her, Rafe!” JJ’s voice was sharp, his stance protective as he took a step forward. “Get your hands off her!”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a sneer. “You think you can just take her from me, JJ? You think you can have her? She’s mine.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Mine. That’s what he always said, but you’d never felt more like something to be possessed than you did right now.

“Rafe, this isn’t you—” you started, trying to pull away from his grip. But his hold only tightened, and you winced as his fingers dug into your skin.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Rafe hissed, his voice trembling with rage. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t.”

“You’re losing me right now,” you said, your voice breaking. “This isn’t love, Rafe. You don’t own me!”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. For a moment, Rafe just stood there, his eyes wide, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Then, without warning, his fist flew toward JJ.

There was a sickening crack as Rafe’s fist connected with JJ’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into a group of bystanders.

“Stop it!” you screamed, trying to break free from Rafe’s hold, but he held you tightly, his grip unyielding as he glared at JJ, his chest heaving.

“You’re not going to take her from me,” Rafe spat, voice thick with jealousy and possessiveness.

“I don’t want her like this,” JJ groaned from the floor, wiping blood from his lip. “You’re destroying her, Rafe.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your heart breaking as the reality of everything you’d been ignoring finally hit you. You had let this go on for far too long. You had let Rafe’s obsession cloud everything. But tonight, it had gone too far.

“You don’t own me!” you shouted at him, voice trembling with fury. “I’m not yours to control! I’m leaving!”

Rafe’s face twisted with rage, his eyes wild as he reached out to grab your arm. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

But the anger in his voice didn’t scare you anymore. You yanked your arm out of his grip, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned and ran out of the house, not caring where you were going, just knowing you couldn’t stay any longer.

───୨ৎ────୨୧────୨ৎ───୨ৎ────

The cool night air burned against your skin as you fled the party. Your mind was clouded with anger and fear, the stinging words from Rafe replaying in your head. You didn’t know where to go, didn’t know what to do. But you knew one thing: you couldn’t stay at that party, not after what happened.

As you walked the streets, your thoughts raced, and you tried to ignore the panic bubbling up inside. You had to get away from Rafe. You had to get away from the suffocating grip he had on your life. But your feet carried you back to his house anyway, against your better judgment. Maybe it was the familiarity of it, or maybe the fear of what would happen if you didn’t.

You let yourself into the large, quiet house, the door creaking as you pushed it open. The silence felt oppressive, thick with the tension that had been building between you two for weeks. You told yourself you were just getting your things, that you’d leave for good this time. But even as you made your way inside, you knew you couldn’t escape him so easily.

And sure enough, there he was, standing at the foot of the stairs when you walked in, his jaw tight, his eyes cold.

“You thought you could just leave?” Rafe’s voice was low and filled with menace, every word dripping with danger. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “I—I couldn’t stay there. You hurt him, Rafe.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, but you refused to back down.

“I hurt him?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, as if the very air between you two had thickened. “You think he respects you? You think you can just waltz in here and run off with someone like him, after everything I’ve given you? After everything I’ve done for you?”

His words felt like poison, but you tried to stand tall, trying to gather some semblance of courage. “You don’t own me, Rafe. You never did. I’m done.”

The words barely left your mouth when he was on you, his hand shooting out and grabbing your wrist, squeezing with a painful force. His grip felt like a vice, and for a moment, you thought you might not be able to breathe.

“Done?” he sneered, his voice low and dripping with malice. “You think you can just walk away from me like you’re some fucking saint? You think you can just break everything between us and get away with it?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he dragged you across the room, slamming you against the wall. The impact made your head spin, and you gasped, trying to pull yourself together. His eyes were cold, calculating, as if something had snapped inside him.

“Rafe, please—let go,” you begged, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears. His face was twisted in a mixture of anger and desperation.

“Do you know what you’ve made me do?” he growled, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? I loved you, Y/N. I gave you everything. And you repay me by running off with him? With that?” He spat the words like venom.

“Rafe, stop it!” you cried, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re scaring me!”

His grip tightened on your wrist, pulling you closer to him, until your faces were inches apart. His breath was hot against your skin, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone silent, just the two of you in the storm of his rage.

“You think you’re going to leave me, huh?” His voice was barely a whisper, and you could hear the venom in it. “You think you can have him, and forget about me? You think I’m just going to stand here and let you walk away like that?”

Your heart was racing. “Rafe—stop!”

But he wasn’t stopping. His hand moved to your throat, gripping it with startling force, and you gasped, feeling the pressure against your windpipe. Panic shot through you, but Rafe’s eyes were wild, fevered with jealousy and anger.

“You think you’re leaving me?” he snarled, shaking you slightly, his other hand digging into your arm, bruising you. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. Not now. Not ever.”

You struggled beneath his grip, trying to pry his hand from your throat, but he was stronger than you, more furious than you had ever seen him.

“Rafe, please—stop!” you begged, fear thick in your voice.

But there was no recognition of your plea. Only rage, possessiveness, and a deep, twisted sense of entitlement.

“You think I won’t hurt you?” Rafe spat, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he shook you again. “I’ll make sure you never forget that you’re mine!”

Suddenly, something snapped inside you. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, and with every ounce of strength you had, you brought your knee up into his groin.

He staggered back, gasping for air, his hand flying to his stomach.

“You think I’m yours?” you shouted, voice hoarse with anger. “You don’t own me, Rafe! You never did!”

Rafe’s face contorted with rage as he lunged at you again. “You little bitch!” He slammed his fist into your side, making you stumble backward, the force of it sending you crashing into the nearby coffee table.

Pain exploded in your ribs as you hit the ground, but you scrambled to your feet, your body trembling. You could taste blood in your mouth, and the fear inside you was growing—this wasn’t just anger anymore, it was violence.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelled, trying to push him away, but Rafe was relentless. He grabbed your hair, yanking you back by it, making you cry out in pain.

“You want to leave me?” he hissed through gritted teeth, dragging you backward across the floor. “You think you can just leave like everything’s fine? Like you didn’t belong to me?”

He threw you back against the wall with force, the back of your head cracking against it. A sharp pain shot through you, and for a moment, everything went blurry.

But you couldn’t give up. Not now.

Your hand found a nearby lamp, and with shaking hands, you swung it toward him. It crashed against his shoulder, and he howled in pain, stumbling back.

For a brief moment, you thought he might hesitate—maybe, just maybe, he’d realize what he was doing.

But there was no slowing down. Rafe was a storm, and you were nothing more than debris in his path.

He grabbed you again, pulling you roughly toward him, his grip like steel, his eyes wild with fury. “You want to run away?” he growled. “You want to leave me? I’ll make sure no one ever touches you again. No one will ever love you like I do. No one will ever want you like I do. You’re mine, Y/N.”

You fought back, your heart pounding as you kicked and shoved, but his rage kept coming, relentless and dark. He pinned you against the wall, and for the first time, you felt truly trapped. The pain was unbearable, the suffocation of his control too much to bear.

You gasped for breath, your heart hammering in your chest. “I’m leaving, Rafe.” The words were barely a whisper. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a moment, his grip faltered, the haze of anger lifting for just a second, but then the dark glint returned to his eyes.

“No, you’re not,” he snarled, his voice venomous. “You’re mine. You’ll never leave me. Ever.”

The suffocating fear returned, but with it came a new resolve. You couldn’t stay. Not anymore. You couldn’t let him break you any longer.

Gathering every ounce of strength you had left, you shoved him off, running for the door.

“Don’t you dare leave!” he shouted after you. But you didn’t look back. You didn’t stop. You just ran, the sound of his voice following you as you fled into the night.

You didn’t know where you were going—but it didn’t matter. You were free.

And you were done with him.

[bandsofmarv]

Could I make a request of reader X Bucky where he sees reader curled on the couch reading one night and he makes reader a cup of hot chocolate?

Hot coco - bucky x reader

Fluff

The soft hum of the apartment was broken only by the sound of rain lightly tapping against the windows. It had been a long, tiring day for Bucky, but nothing prepared him for what he saw when he walked into the living room. There, curled up on the couch under a blanket, was you. Your face was flushed, your body barely moving as you lay there, eyes closed in exhaustion.

Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight. He had noticed you feeling off earlier that morning, but when you insisted you were fine, he had gone out to take care of a few things. Now, seeing you like this, vulnerable and sick, his protective instincts kicked in full force.

“Hey, doll,” he said softly, kneeling down next to the couch. His voice was gentle, the concern evident in his tone. He brushed a lock of hair away from your face, his fingers warm against your cool skin. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked up at him, a faint, tired smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine,” you croaked, your voice hoarse, “Just a little… under the weather.”

Bucky didn’t believe it for a second, but he didn’t press you. Instead, he stood up and walked into the kitchen. “I’m making you something to help. You just rest, okay?”

You barely managed a nod before sinking back into the cushions, your body too drained to protest. Bucky’s movements were quick but thoughtful as he gathered the ingredients for hot chocolate, the warmth of the kitchen comforting after the cold that had settled around you. He grabbed a small saucepan, filling it with milk and turning the burner on low. As it heated, he grabbed the cocoa powder and a few extra ingredients, making sure it would be the perfect cup to soothe you.

Back in the living room, you had closed your eyes again, curled up tighter under the blanket. The ache in your body made you want nothing more than to just sleep through it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of Bucky’s eyes on you. Even though you hadn’t said a word, you knew he was worried. You could feel it in the way he gently cared for you, his movements deliberate and thoughtful.

It didn’t take long before the sweet smell of hot chocolate filled the apartment, a comforting aroma that made you smile even though your body still felt heavy. Bucky returned with the steaming mug, his eyes soft as he knelt down beside you again. He was careful as he propped you up with a pillow, holding the mug to your lips.

“Here, drink this,” he urged softly, his voice as tender as his touch. “It’ll help you feel better.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you took the mug from his hands, savoring the warmth that spread through your chilled hands and into your body. The rich, creamy taste soothed your sore throat, and you sighed contentedly after a sip.

Bucky watched you carefully, his fingers gently brushing against your hand as he tucked the blanket more securely around you. He sat on the edge of the couch, his gaze never leaving your face, his expression a mix of affection and concern.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice still weak but grateful. “This is perfect, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky smiled softly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Anything for you, doll,” he murmured, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual, his warmth melting away some of the cold you’d been feeling.

As you finished the hot chocolate, you found yourself growing drowsy, the heat from the drink and Bucky’s soothing presence lulling you into a more relaxed state. You leaned your head against his shoulder, and without a word, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His warmth seemed to envelope you, making you feel safe and cared for in a way you couldn’t describe.

“You should rest,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll stay right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, feeling your body finally start to unwind. The steady rhythm of Bucky’s breathing next to you, the gentle way he held you, made it impossible to stay awake any longer. You drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that, no matter what, Bucky would be there when you woke up.

[bandsofmarv]

Shielded heart

After breaking up with you months ago Bucky realises he can’t live without you after seeing you on a date.

Angst, smut.

The knock at your door was sharp and insistent, but this time, it wasn’t just unwelcome—it was infuriating.

You’d barely stepped out of your heels when it came, loud enough to make you jump. You froze, your hand gripping the back of the couch as you stared at the door. Only one person knocked like that.

Your blood boiled as his voice broke through, low and angry. “Y/N, open the damn door.”

You didn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. “Go away, Bucky,” you called out, your voice sharper than usual.

“No.” His reply was immediate and clipped. “We need to talk. Now.”

You stormed to the door, your date still fresh in your mind, the laughter and warmth of the evening now overshadowed by the man standing on the other side of the threshold. You yanked the door open, meeting his stormy blue eyes with a glare.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped. “And you don’t get to show up here like this.”

Bucky looked furious, his hair disheveled, his leather jacket unzipped like he’d rushed over. “Like hell there isn’t,” he growled, his eyes narrowing. “Who was he?”

Your stomach twisted, but you refused to let him see how much his question rattled you. “None of your business,” you said coldly, crossing your arms.

“The hell it isn’t,” Bucky snapped, stepping closer. “You think I don’t notice you dressing up? Smiling like that? I saw you, Y/N. With him.”

His words hit you like a slap, the possessiveness in his tone making your anger spike. “You saw me?” you repeated, incredulous. “What, are you stalking me now? You have no right—”

“I have every right,” he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours!” you shot back, your voice rising. “You left me, Bucky! You don’t get to walk out of my life and then act like you have a claim to me.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice strained. “I thought you’d be better off without me.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said bitterly. “You hurt me, Bucky. You broke me. And now, what? You see me on a date and suddenly you care?”

“That’s not what this is,” he said, his voice softening, but the tension in his frame remained.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, taking a step closer, your anger boiling over. “You only care now because you’re jealous. Because for once, I wasn’t sitting at home, waiting for you to decide you were ready to come back.”

His expression cracked, guilt flashing across his face. “I know I messed up,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I know I don’t deserve you. But seeing you with him? I couldn’t—I can’t—”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you interrupted, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to show up here and act like you own me just because you don’t want anyone else to.”

His eyes darkened, and he stepped even closer, the heat between you palpable. “I don’t just want you, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “I need you. And no one—no one—can love you like I can.”

You sucked in a breath, your anger mixing with the undeniable pull you still felt toward him. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I’m not walking away again,” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You can hate me all you want, but I’m not giving up. That guy you were with? He’ll never know you like I do. Never touch you the way I can.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing against the walls you’d built around your heart. “Bucky—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice rough and desperate. “I’ve already lost you once. I won’t let it happen again.”

For a moment, you stood frozen, torn between anger and the deep ache you still felt for him. But as much as you wanted to slam the door in his face, a part of you couldn’t. A part of you didn’t want him to leave.

Bucky had made the decision for you before you knew it he was on you, his hands cupping your face as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was desperate and all-consuming, every ounce of frustration, jealousy, and longing poured into it. You should have pushed him away, reminded him of the boundaries you’d just set—but you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backed you against the wall. His body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him as his hands roamed down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Bucky—” you gasped when he pulled back, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Don’t say anything,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive. “Just let me prove it to you.”

You shivered as his teeth grazed your skin, his metal hand sliding under your shirt to splay across your back, pulling you even closer. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head so he could look into your eyes.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “You think some guy can make you feel like this? Touch you the way I do?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stole the words from your lips. His fingers trailed down your side, tugging your shirt over your head before his lips returned to yours, hot and demanding.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your thigh and lifting it around his hip. “Did you feel anything when he touched you? Did it even come close to this?”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling as he ground against you, his hardness pressing against your core. “Bucky…”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone triumphant. He picked you up with ease, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. His eyes were dark with desire as he stripped you of the rest of your clothes, his hands mapping your body like he needed to remind himself you were his.

“You can pretend to hate me all you want,” he murmured, leaning over you as he stripped off his shirt. “But your body doesn’t lie. You still want me.”

You glared at him, trying to hold onto your anger, but it was hard to think when his lips were on your skin, kissing and biting a trail down your chest. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he settled between them.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “Say it.”

Your breath hitched as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive spot, your hands fisting in the couch cushions. “Bucky—”

“Say it,” he demanded, his metal hand pressing against your stomach to keep you still as he worked you into a frenzy. “Say you’re mine, or I’ll stop.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your head falling back as pleasure built in your core. “I’m yours, Bucky.”

A satisfied growl rumbled in his chest, and he pulled back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you. “That’s my girl,” he said, shedding the rest of his clothes before aligning himself with you.

The stretch as he filled you was almost too much, but it was everything you needed. He moved slowly at first, his gaze locked on yours as he claimed you in every way possible.

“No one else can have you,” he murmured, his pace quickening. “No one else will ever touch you like this. You’ll never want anyone else, Y/N. You’re mine.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep inside you, his groan of release muffled against your neck.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Bucky stayed above you, his weight comforting as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder.

“You’ll never want anyone else,” he whispered again, his voice softer now but no less certain. “Because no one else can love you like I do.”

This time, you didn’t argue.

[bandsofmarv]

Your supernatural fic made me miss the show! Haven't watched in so long!

Can I request a bucky one?

Something angst with a happy ending?

Sorry I'm so sleepy deprived I can't get specific....

Oh maybe reader hiding an injury because they don't want the team to be worried

Here we go lovely 🤍

Unseen wounds

You are scared of burdening the team with a serious injury so you decide to hide it. Only for Bucky to find you and come to your aid.

Warnings - none only angst

The mission had been a success—or at least, that’s what everyone kept saying. But Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It gnawed at him during the ride back, a dull ache in the back of his mind that only worsened as he glanced at you, tucked away in the corner of the jet. You were too quiet, too still, your head turned toward the window to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

He knew you. Knew the way you laughed when the team cracked jokes, the way you always helped Natasha clean her weapons even if you didn’t have to, and the way you wore your stress on your sleeve. This wasn’t you.

When the jet landed, you bolted before anyone could stop you.

Something was definitely wrong.

Bucky’s gut twisted as he searched the compound. You weren’t in the kitchen, the common area, or the training room. The rest of the team had dispersed, too caught up in their post-mission routines to notice your absence. But Bucky couldn’t let it go.

He checked your room last, his hand tightening on the doorframe as he heard a faint sound from inside. A muffled cry.

“Doll? You in there?” he called, his voice steady despite the rising panic in his chest.

No answer.

His metal hand gripped the doorknob, the cool vibranium grounding him just enough to keep his head clear.

“Come on, don’t shut me out,” he said, softer this time.

When the silence stretched, he used the spare key you’d given him, promising himself he’d only ever use it in emergencies.

The sight that greeted him made his heart stop.

You were slumped on the floor, your hand pressed tightly against your side. Blood seeped through your jacket, staining your shirt and pooling on the hardwood beneath you.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered, rushing to your side.

You flinched when he knelt next to you, your eyes wide with panic.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he demanded, his voice harsher than he intended.

“I didn’t want to—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t want to worry us.”

Your lips trembled, and his anger evaporated as quickly as it came, replaced by a crushing wave of guilt.

“God,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair as his eyes scanned the wound. “How bad is it? Can you—can you move?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I thought I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” Bucky’s voice cracked, and he pressed a hand against your uninjured shoulder, his metal fingers trembling as he steadied you. “You’re bleeding out, and you thought you could handle it?”

His chest ached as he worked quickly, retrieving the first aid kit he always kept nearby. Cleaning the wound wasn’t easy; your soft whimpers of pain tore at him, each one hitting him like a physical blow.

“This is going to sting,” he warned, his voice low and tight as he poured antiseptic over the cut.

You bit down on your lip, a choked cry escaping despite your efforts to stay silent.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, alright?”

The wound was deep—too deep for the makeshift stitches he applied. You needed real medical attention, but getting you to the med bay without drawing attention would be nearly impossible.

When he finished wrapping the bandage around your torso, he leaned back, his hands shaking as he stared at the blood on his fingers.

“This never should’ve happened,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your face pale and drawn. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” you murmured.

Bucky froze, his stomach twisting painfully.

“A burden?” he echoed, his voice breaking. “Do you really think I’d ever see you that way?”

You didn’t respond, your silence cutting deeper than any Hydra blade ever could.

“Do you know what it’s like?” he said, his voice rising as the words spilled out, unfiltered and raw. “To see someone you care about like this? To know they’re in pain and didn’t trust you enough to ask for help?”

Your eyes widened, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to what? Make me feel like I failed you?” He shook his head, his metal hand gripping the edge of the desk so tightly that it groaned under the pressure. “I should’ve noticed. I should’ve seen it.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice weak but earnest.

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound filled with anguish. “Of course it is. It’s always my fault. I was right there, and I didn’t see what was happening. Just like I didn’t see what Hydra was doing to me, just like I didn’t see the signs when people needed me before…”

His voice trailed off, his eyes glistening as he turned back to you.

“I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice breaking completely. “Not you.”

You reached out, your hand resting gently on his metal one.

“You didn’t fail me,” you said softly, your voice trembling but sure. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Bucky closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he clung to your words. He lowered himself to the floor beside you, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers intertwined with yours.

“You’re not allowed to scare me like that again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said, squeezing his hand.

And in that moment, Bucky made a promise of his own. He’d protect you, no matter what. Because losing you wasn’t an option. Not ever.

[bandsofmarv]

Forbidden

In which y/n potter is secretly dating mattheo riddle.

No warnings

The glow of the Gryffindor common room fire danced across the walls as you leaned closer to the parchment on your lap, pretending to focus on your Potions essay. In truth, your mind was elsewhere—on the boy with the dark curls and piercing eyes who had managed to worm his way into your heart. Mattheo Riddle.

It was a dangerous name to whisper, even more so to feel something for him. Yet here you were, sneaking glances at the clock, counting down the minutes until curfew when you’d slip out and meet him.

If Harry knew, he would lose his mind.

Your older brother had always been fiercely protective, but his hatred for Mattheo was on another level. Harry saw him as everything wrong with Slytherin—a cocky, sharp-tongued troublemaker with dangerous connections. And Mattheo’s reputation as Tom Riddle’s son didn’t help.

So you kept the relationship a secret. For now.

————————————————————————

The Astronomy Tower was empty, as usual, when you arrived. The December chill cut through your robes, but before you could shiver, a pair of warm arms wrapped around you from behind.

“You’re late,” Mattheo murmured, his breath tickling your ear.

You grinned and turned to face him. “Had to wait for Harry to stop hovering like a Dementor.”

Mattheo chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent warmth spiraling through you. “The Golden Boy really doesn’t like me, does he?”

“He doesn’t know you,” you countered, reaching up to brush a curl from his forehead. “Not like I do.”

“And he never will if we keep sneaking around like this,” Mattheo said, though there was no real anger in his tone. Only a quiet longing. “Don’t you ever get tired of hiding?”

You hesitated, guilt gnawing at you. “I hate it,” you admitted. “But I can’t hurt Harry like that. He—he’s been through so much. He wouldn’t understand.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “For you, I’ll wait. But he’s going to find out eventually.”

It happened sooner than you expected.

You were leaving the library, Mattheo’s hand brushing against yours as you both ducked into a quiet corridor, laughing softly about some joke he had made. Neither of you noticed the figure lurking in the shadows until it was too late.

“What the hell is this?”

The icy tone made your heart drop. You spun around to see Harry standing a few feet away, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, his green eyes blazing with fury.

“Harry, it’s not—” you began, but he cut you off.

“Not what it looks like?” he snapped. “Because it looks like my sister is sneaking around with him.” His glare shifted to Mattheo, who stood his ground, his expression unreadable.

“Harry, please—just listen,” you pleaded.

“Listen to what? That you’ve been lying to me? That you’re sneaking around with Riddle?” Harry’s voice cracked with anger. “Do you have any idea who he is? What his family has done?”

“Harry, I know who he is!” you shot back, your voice rising. “But he’s not his father! He’s not what you think!”

Mattheo stepped forward then, his voice calm but firm. “I love her, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Love? Don’t you dare talk to me about love. You’re just using her—”

“Stop it!” you yelled, stepping between them. “Mattheo isn’t using me. He cares about me—he’s been there for me in ways you wouldn’t understand.”

Harry’s expression twisted with a mix of hurt and betrayal. “I’m trying to protect you,” he said quietly.

“I don’t need protecting from him,” you replied just as softly.

For a moment, the three of you stood in silence, the tension crackling like electricity. Finally, Harry let out a bitter laugh and turned away. “Do what you want,” he said, his voice cold. “But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

He walked away, leaving you and Mattheo alone in the corridor.

That night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, you wondered if Harry would ever forgive you. But when Mattheo found you the next day, his hand slipping into yours despite the glares from the Gryffindor table, you knew one thing for sure: some things were worth fighting for.

And you weren’t giving him up. Not for anyone.

[bandsofmarv]

Reckless hearts

After a dangerous hunt, you return to the bunker only to face dean’s fury.

Warnings - angst no warnings really

The bunker door creaked open, and you stumbled inside, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Blood dripped from the cut above your eyebrow, and your ribs ached like hell, but at least you’d managed to take down the wendigo and save the hikers.

You barely made it past the map table when you heard the familiar shuffle of boots. Sam appeared first, his face etched with worry.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent.

“Just a rough night,” you replied, brushing off the concern as you tried to walk past him.

Then came Dean, storming down the hallway like a thundercloud. The moment he saw you, his green eyes narrowed, blazing with fury.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Here we go,” you muttered, wincing as Dean stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” Dean snapped. “You look like you just went twelve rounds with a freight train. What part of ‘wait for backup’ didn’t you understand?”

“I didn’t have time to wait,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “People were going to die!”

“And you almost got yourself killed in the process!” Dean’s voice cracked, his anger barely masking the fear beneath it.

“Okay, okay,” Sam interjected, stepping between the two of you. “Let’s just take a breath here. Y/N’s back, and that’s what matters.”

Dean ignored his brother, his attention locked on you. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N. Throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter—”

“It’s my life, Dean!” you interrupted, your own temper flaring. “If I decide it’s worth risking to save someone else, that’s my call.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just your life on the line—it’s ours too. Sam and I—we care about you, damn it!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Sam beat you to it, his tone gentler but no less firm.

“He’s right, Y/N. You’re part of this family. When you put yourself in danger like that, it’s not just you who pays the price.”

The weight of their words hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t realized how much your actions had affected them—how much they truly cared.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice barely audible.

Dean let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, sweetheart. You scared the hell out of me tonight.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, you noticed the cracks in his tough exterior—the fear, the vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.

“Dean…”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I won’t.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, clearly sensing the shift in the conversation. “I’ll, uh… go grab the first aid kit,” he mumbled, retreating down the hall.

You and Dean stood there in silence, the tension between you palpable.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you said finally, taking a tentative step closer.

“Well, you did,” he snapped, though the anger in his voice had softened. “Every time you pull a stunt like this, I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said firmly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Say it.”

He looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for a long moment before he finally spoke.

“I love you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s killing me to watch you act like your life doesn’t matter, because it matters to me more than anything.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his confession taking you completely off guard.

“Dean…”

“If you don’t feel the same, just say it,” he said quickly, stepping back. “But don’t expect me to just stand by and watch you—”

“I love you too,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You… what?”

“I love you,” you repeated, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more careful. For you. For both of you.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged with relief, and before you knew it, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You better,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Because if you pull a stunt like that again, I swear—”

“Dean,” you interrupted, resting your head against his chest. “Shut up and kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

From the hallway, Sam returned with the first aid kit, only to stop short when he saw the two of you wrapped up in each other.

“About time,” he muttered with a grin, setting the kit down on the table and heading back down the hall.

[bandsofmarv]

Just a quick note!

- someone in my req has asked what I will write

I’ll write any character , storyline and kink. Please bear in mind I won’t do biological incest.

Step siblings / parents I will do as I also love it 🤫

Hope this helps :)

[bandsofmarv]

Breaking through the iron shell is awesome 😍! I'm so glad you wanted to write a Tony!

I would like to ask you about a smutty and a little fluffy Tony x Steve fic. Tony tells Steve about the daddy k!nk he has, and Steve is more than happy to help! If you do something like that, of course :)

I’ve never written something like this so hopefully you like :)

Under his command (Tony x Steve)

When Tony nervously admits his daddy kink to Steve, the super-soldier doesn’t just accept it—he embraces it.

Warnings - smut, daddy kink.

Tony Stark wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable. He could deflect, joke, or charm his way through almost any situation. But tonight, standing in front of Steve Rogers, he felt like a man on the edge of a cliff.

Steve lounged on the couch, his legs stretched out, looking perfectly at ease. He smiled up at Tony, a picture of patience as he watched Tony pace back and forth like a caged tiger.

“Tony, what’s going on?” Steve finally asked, his voice warm and steady.

Tony froze mid-step, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, look. I need to tell you something, and it’s either going to make you laugh, freak out, or—hell, I don’t know—run for the hills.”

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, his concern deepening. “Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that.”

Tony sighed, his heart pounding. “Yeah, sure. Easier said than done.”

Steve stood, moving toward him with that calm, deliberate confidence that always threw Tony off. “Tony. I’m not going anywhere. Just say it.”

Tony swallowed hard, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I have a daddy kink, okay? I like being called Daddy. There. I said it.”

Steve blinked, his blue eyes widening slightly, and Tony braced himself for the inevitable awkwardness, the rejection.

But instead, Steve tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You like being called Daddy?”

Tony stared, caught completely off guard. “Uh… yeah. Is that… weird for you?”

Steve took another step closer, the corners of his mouth curling up. “I don’t think so.”

Tony’s throat went dry as Steve closed the distance between them, his gaze locked on Tony’s.

“Daddy,” Steve said, testing the word.

The air between them shifted, charged with something Tony hadn’t expected. His body reacted instantly, a jolt of heat shooting through him.

“Say that again,” Tony murmured, his voice lower now, rough with need.

Steve leaned in, his lips inches from Tony’s ear. “Daddy.”

It was the breaking point.

Tony surged forward, capturing Steve’s mouth in a searing kiss. His hands gripped Steve’s hips, pulling him flush against his body as their lips moved together, fierce and desperate. Steve let out a soft gasp, his fingers tangling in Tony’s hair, holding him close.

“God, Steve,” Tony groaned, his lips trailing down Steve’s jaw to his neck. “You have no idea what you just did to me.”

Steve tilted his head back, giving Tony more access, his voice breathless. “Then show me.”

Tony didn’t waste a second, guiding Steve to the bedroom with a sense of urgency. By the time they reached the bed, Tony had stripped off Steve’s shirt, his hands mapping the hard planes of his chest.

“You’re so damn perfect,” Tony muttered, his lips trailing down Steve’s collarbone. “All mine.”

Steve shivered under Tony’s touch, his voice low and trembling. “I’m yours, Daddy.”

The words sent a surge of heat through Tony, and he growled softly, his hands gripping Steve’s hips as he pushed him down onto the mattress.

“You don’t get to tease me like that without consequences,” Tony said, his voice dark and commanding. “You understand, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Steve whispered, his cheeks flushing.

Tony smirked, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. “Good boy.”

He took his time, teasing and exploring every inch of Steve’s body. His hands roamed over warm skin, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Steve arched beneath him, his breath hitching with every touch, every kiss.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Tony murmured, his voice filled with praise. “Taking everything I give you.”

Steve’s hands gripped the sheets, his body trembling as Tony pushed him closer and closer to the edge. “Tony—”

“Ah, ah,” Tony interrupted, his tone playful but firm. “What do you call me?”

Steve bit his lip, his cheeks flushed as he moaned, “Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Tony growled, his mouth claiming Steve’s in a kiss that left them both breathless.

Afterward, they lay tangled together in the sheets, their breaths slowing as the intensity faded into quiet intimacy. Tony’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Steve’s chest, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Steve tilted his head up, his blue eyes soft. “Was that what you needed?”

Tony chuckled, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Oh, I’d say that was exactly what I needed. How about you, Captain?”

Steve smiled, his hand resting over Tony’s. “I didn’t know how much I needed to let go like that. Thank you for… letting me trust you.”

Tony’s heart swelled at the words, and he pulled Steve closer, their foreheads touching. “Always, sweetheart. You’re mine now, and I’m not letting you go.”

As Steve drifted off in Tony’s arms, he couldn’t help but smile, feeling safer and more loved than he ever had before.

[bandsofmarv]

Could I make another request? :)

Bucky X reader where reader has a hard time sleeping and goes into his room and asks to stay the night with him?

I loved writing this! Enjoy!

Safe In His Arms

Struggling to sleep in the unfamiliar avengers compound you seek comfort in Bucky.

Fluff, slight smut.

The Avengers compound was too quiet at night, the kind of stillness that made your thoughts louder. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the ache of loneliness settle in your chest. No matter how much you tossed and turned, sleep wouldn’t come.

With a sigh, you threw off the blanket and wandered into the dimly lit hallway, your bare feet cool against the polished floor. Without realizing it, you found yourself outside Bucky Barnes’ door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the wood. Bucky had been your rock since you moved in, his steady presence a comfort amidst the chaos. But waking him up in the middle of the night? Was that pushing it?

The ache in your chest grew stronger, and before you could overthink, you knocked softly.

The door opened a moment later, revealing Bucky in a rumpled gray T-shirt and sweats, his hair slightly tousled. His sleepy blue eyes blinked at you, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything feels so… overwhelming.”

Bucky’s features softened as he stepped aside. “Come in.”

His room was simple but warm, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows over the walls. You perched on the edge of the bed, your fingers twisting in your lap.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” you mumbled.

“You’re not bothering me,” he said gently, sitting beside you. “I know what it’s like. This place can feel… big. Lonely.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. “Can I… stay? Just for tonight?”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze soft. Then, without a word, he pulled back the blanket and slid under it, patting the space beside him.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

You hesitated only for a moment before climbing in beside him. To your surprise, Bucky didn’t keep his distance. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest.

“You okay like this?” he asked, his voice rumbling in your ear.

“Yes,” you whispered, your cheeks warming. “This is… perfect.”

He rested his chin lightly on the top of your head, his metal arm resting across your hip while his warm hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. “You’re safe here,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The tension in your body melted away as you relaxed into his embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into calm.

For a while, the two of you lay there in silence, your body completely at ease in his arms. But as the minutes passed, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced, how every little movement he made sent a warmth coursing through you.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him. His blue eyes were already on you, soft and filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice heavy with emotion.

He smiled faintly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime, doll. Always.”

Something in the air shifted. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned up and pressed your lips softly to his.

He froze for a moment, as if caught off guard, but then his hand cupped your cheek, deepening the kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was warm and consuming, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours, his hand still cradling your face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips curled into a small smile. “Me too.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you closer against his chest. “Get some sleep now, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere.”

And with his warmth wrapped around you and his kiss still lingering on your lips, you finally felt at home.

[bandsofmarv]

Hi!!!! I just read The One Who Stayed, and that was so good. Very good work. Could I request for a fluffy and a little smutty fic with Tony Stark x reader? :)

Of course! I’ve been wanting to do a Tony one.

Breaking through the iron shell

A shy new recruit joins the avengers and catches Tony’s attention. Determined to draw you out of your shell, Tony’s teasing and charm lead to unexpected sparks.

- fluff , slight smut.

The Avengers compound was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d been recruited for your engineering skills, but being in the same building as some of the greatest heroes in the world? That was enough to make your stomach churn with nerves.

You’d spent most of your first week keeping your head down, avoiding small talk, and burying yourself in the projects you’d been assigned. But Tony Stark wasn’t the kind of man to let someone go unnoticed.

It started with little things.

“Hey, genius,” Tony called one afternoon, leaning casually against the doorway to the lab where you worked. “You realize we have a coffee machine that does more than just sit there and look pretty, right? Go get yourself a cup. You’re gonna burn out those circuits, and I don’t just mean the ones on the desk.”

You froze mid-solder, heat rising to your face as you registered his presence. “I-I’m okay,” you stammered, keeping your eyes fixed on the tiny wires in front of you.

“Hmm,” Tony mused, stepping into the room. “Shy. Didn’t see that coming.”

You glanced up briefly, your heart pounding at the sight of him. Tony Stark was larger than life in person, his presence magnetic.

“I’m not shy,” you mumbled, though the flush on your face said otherwise.

He grinned, tilting his head as if considering you. “You’re not shy, huh? Then what do we call the mumbling, no-eye-contact thing? Modest? Reserved? Or are you just saving all the charm for the next guy who walks in?”

You let out a nervous laugh, unsure how to respond.

From that moment on, Tony seemed to make it his mission to draw you out of your shell.

He’d swing by your workspace daily, leaning over your shoulder to comment on your work. At first, his teasing left you flustered, but over time, you started to anticipate it. His compliments—hidden beneath layers of sarcasm—helped you feel like you belonged.

“You know,” he said one day, watching as you calibrated a new piece of tech, “I think you’re giving me a run for my money. Don’t get too good, though. I’ve got an ego to maintain.”

You smiled, a little more comfortable now. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll outshine Iron Man anytime soon.”

“Flattery,” he said with a smirk. “Not necessary, but appreciated.”

It wasn’t until a late-night work session that things shifted between you.

You were finishing up a prototype when Tony walked in, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Burning the midnight oil, huh?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “Just wanted to get this done.”

Tony set his drink down and leaned on the workbench beside you. “You’ve been killing it, you know. I don’t say that lightly. Well, maybe I do, but this time I mean it.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You’re different from the others,” he said. “Quiet, but not in a bad way. Makes me wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You shrugged, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. “Just… trying to do my job.”

He reached out, gently tilting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “You’re doing more than that, sweetheart.”

The intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch. There was something magnetic about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the room.

The kiss was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

One moment, you were standing there, caught in his gaze. The next, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and surprisingly tender.

You froze for a second, unsure of how to react, but when his hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, you melted into him.

The kiss deepened, his free hand tangling in your hair as he pressed you against the workbench. Your hands found their way to his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your fingers.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Too much?” he asked, his voice husky.

You shook your head, your cheeks flushed. “No. Definitely not.”

————————————————————————

The following weeks were a blur of stolen kisses and lingering touches. Tony’s teasing didn’t stop, but there was a new warmth to it now—a softness that made your heart race.

He didn’t just make you feel wanted; he made you feel seen.

And as you grew more confident, you found yourself teasing him back, matching his wit with your own.

“Careful, Stark,” you said one day, grinning as you adjusted the specs on a shared project. “Keep complimenting me, and I might start thinking I’m the genius here.”

He smirked, leaning close enough that you could feel his breath on your neck. “Oh, you are, sweetheart. But don’t forget who taught you everything you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable.

Tony Stark had a way of breaking through your walls, and for the first time in your life, you were glad someone had.

[bandsofmarv]

I don’t know if you’ve done it yet but if you haven’t can you please make a part 2 of “claimed by the devil” rafe Cameron

Here we go :)

Claimed By The Devil

Rafe isn’t the type to let go. His obsession with you deepens and his desperation turns dangerous.

Part 1

Warnings - obsessive behaviour.

It had been a week since the party. A week since you’d walked away from Rafe. A week since you’d chosen JJ.

But Rafe hadn’t made it easy to move on.

The texts and calls started the night you left with JJ. At first, they were frantic and desperate. Apologies. Promises to change. Pledges of undying love. Then they turned darker. Accusations. Threats. Reminders that you couldn’t escape him.

JJ had convinced you to stay with him, his small apartment feeling like the only safe place in the Outer Banks. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe was everywhere. His voice haunted your thoughts, his presence lingering in every shadow.

“You okay?” JJ asked, his voice pulling you out of your spiral.

You looked up from the couch where you sat, knees pulled to your chest. JJ stood in the kitchen, frying something that smelled vaguely like bacon. His concern was evident in the way he leaned on the counter, his blue eyes soft.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a weak smile. “Just… thinking.”

He put the spatula down and walked over, sitting next to you. “About him?”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “It’s like he’s still here, even when he’s not.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, a flicker of anger flashing across his face. “He’s not here. He’s never getting near you again. I won’t let him.”

The warmth in JJ’s voice was a balm against the fear crawling up your spine, but even he couldn’t erase the memories of Rafe.

Later that night, while JJ slept beside you, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach as the screen lit up with his name.

Rafe: Come outside.

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, your body frozen with fear. Then another text came through.

Rafe: I know you’re with him. Come out, or I’ll come in.

You sat up, your hands trembling as you turned to look at JJ. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Quietly, you slipped out of bed and made your way to the front door.

Rafe was waiting just outside, leaning against his car with a cigarette between his fingers. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you, and a twisted smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, flicking the cigarette away. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“What am I doing here?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing, hiding out with him like some kind of fugitive?”

“I’m not hiding,” you said, your voice stronger now. “I’m done, Rafe. I told you that.”

He stepped closer, his smile fading. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just walk away from me? You’re mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you said, backing up. “I’m not anyone’s.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. “He’s not better for you, you know,” he said, his voice dropping. “JJ doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t know what you need. He’ll never love you like I do.”

“Rafe—”

“No!” he shouted, cutting you off. His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You don’t get to throw this away. You don’t get to throw us away.”

“There is no us anymore,” you said, tears stinging your eyes.

Rafe’s expression twisted into something you didn’t recognize—something darker. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

The sound of the front door opening startled both of you. JJ stepped out onto the porch, his gaze immediately locking onto Rafe.

“What the hell are you doing here, Cameron?” JJ growled, his body tense as he stepped in front of you.

Rafe let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Of course. The knight in shining armor,” he sneered. “What are you gonna do, Maybank? You think you can protect her from me?”

“I don’t think,” JJ said, his voice steady. “I know.”

Rafe’s smile faded, and for a moment, the three of you stood frozen in the tense silence. Then, Rafe stepped forward, his gaze locked on you.

“This isn’t over,” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “You can try to run, but you’ll never get away from me. I’ll always find you.”

JJ took a step closer, his fists clenched. “You come near her again, and I swear, I’ll end you.”

Rafe smirked, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he turned and walked away.

As his car roared down the street, JJ pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry.

You nodded against his chest, but deep down, you knew Rafe wasn’t done. This was only the beginning of his storm, and you had no idea how to stop it.

[bandsofmarv]

Cutting Ties (Ghostface Bucky)

Bucky becomes dangerously obsessed with you even going as far as eliminating those around you.

warnings - murder, obsession.

The first time you noticed him, you thought it was just a coincidence. A dark figure at the edge of your vision as you walked home from the coffee shop. A fleeting shadow that seemed to disappear the moment you turned around.

Brooklyn was always alive with people, even at night, so you chalked it up to paranoia. But it wasn’t long before the coincidences became harder to ignore.

A knock at your apartment door late at night. No one there when you checked.

Your name written in the condensation on your bathroom mirror.

The faint feeling of being watched, even in your own home.

And then the killings started.

The first victim was your coworker, a sweet woman named Rachel who’d always made an effort to check in on you. You found out through the news the next morning. Stabbed in her apartment. No sign of forced entry.

The police called it random, but you knew better. Rachel had just been at your apartment two nights before, sharing wine and gossip. She’d been your only real friend in the city.

Her death left you shaken. But the city didn’t stop, and neither could you.

A week later, it was your neighbor, Marcus. He’d offered to help fix your leaky faucet the night before he was found in the stairwell, his throat slit.

The pattern was impossible to ignore now. Everyone who got close to you seemed to end up dead.

That’s when you saw him.

It was late, and you were walking home from work. The streets were unusually quiet, a thin fog rolling in from the river. The air felt heavy, suffocating.

And then you saw the figure at the end of the street.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black cloak, the Ghostface mask gleaming white under the streetlights. He didn’t move, just stood there, watching you.

Your heart pounded as you froze, clutching your bag like it could protect you.

“Who are you?” you called, your voice shaking.

He tilted his head, the mask turning slightly as if amused by your fear.

When he finally took a step forward, you bolted.

————————————————————————

You spent the next week barricading yourself inside your apartment, refusing to answer the door or your phone. Sleep was impossible. Every creak, every shadow set your nerves on edge.

But no matter how hard you tried to shut the world out, you couldn’t escape him.

A package arrived at your door one morning. No return address. Inside was a single black glove and a note scrawled in messy handwriting:

“You don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

Your stomach twisted, bile rising in your throat. This wasn’t random. He was obsessed with you.

The next time you saw him, it was in your apartment.

You woke up to find him standing at the foot of your bed, the Ghostface mask blank and staring. You couldn’t even scream, your body frozen in terror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask. Low, gravelly, almost familiar.

“Who are you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He reached up, slowly pulling the mask away.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky?”

James Buchanan Barnes—your quiet, brooding neighbor who always seemed to linger a little too long in the hallway. The man who had offered to carry your groceries up the stairs, who had fixed your squeaky door without you asking.

“I’ve been protecting you,” he said, his blue eyes soft but unrelenting. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You killed them… Rachel, Marcus… Why?”

His expression darkened, the softness replaced by something far more dangerous.

“They were getting in the way,” he said simply. “You don’t need anyone else. I’ve been here the whole time. For you.”

You tried to scramble out of the bed, but he was faster, his Vibranium arm pinning you in place.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you. But I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

The days that followed blurred together. Bucky didn’t leave. He stayed in your apartment, always watching, always nearby. He cooked your meals, cleaned up after himself, even smiled at you like none of this was horrifying.

But the mask stayed, perched on the table like a silent reminder of what he was capable of.

You tried to escape once, when he was in the shower. But the moment you opened the door, he was there, dripping wet and furious.

“Don’t make me lock you in,” he warned, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful. “I don’t want to do that.”

You realized then that there was no reasoning with him.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a broken man. He was completely unhinged. And you were his obsession.

One night, as he sat across from you at the table, you decided to speak.

“Why me?” you asked quietly.

He tilted his head, considering the question.

“You were kind,” he said after a long pause. “The only person who looked at me like I was more than… this.” He gestured to his Vibranium arm, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I couldn’t let you slip away like everyone else.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice calm, “this isn’t love. This is—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. “Don’t say that. I love you. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve made sure no one else could hurt you.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. What could you possibly say to someone who believed their obsession was love?

All you knew was that you had to find a way out. Before he decided that even you weren’t enough.

[bandsofmarv]

What’s Your Favourite Horror Movie Pogue?

Rafe Cameron, consumed by an obsessive love for you, becomes Ghostface, murdering anyone he sees as a threat to his claim on you.

TW- murder, obsessive behaviour.

The Outer Banks was known for its beauty: golden sunsets, endless beaches, and the salty air that whispered promises of freedom. But lately, that promise felt like a lie. The town was gripped with fear, whispers of a masked killer spreading like wildfire. They called him Ghostface, a name plucked from horror movies but now real, haunting your life in ways you couldn’t escape.

What no one knew—what you didn’t know—was that the killer wasn’t some faceless stranger. It was Rafe Cameron.

And his obsession with you was the reason the killings had begun.

The first time you noticed something strange, it had been subtle. Rafe was always intense, his gaze lingering on you a little too long, his presence suffocating in a way that should have made you uncomfortable. But Rafe was also charming, magnetic even. You found yourself drawn to him despite the warnings in your head.

But as the days passed, his intensity deepened. He started showing up unannounced—at your work, outside your house, even at the places you went to clear your mind.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he’d say, flashing that disarming smile. “With everything going on, you can’t be too careful.”

At first, it felt sweet. Protective. But soon, it felt suffocating.

The murders began with strangers—people you didn’t know well enough to connect the dots. A lifeguard at the beach, a couple tourists who had wandered into the wrong part of town. The pattern was erratic at first, but then it started to hit closer to home.

You were with Sarah Cameron when she got the call about her boyfriend, Topper. The cops had found him in the woods, gutted like an animal. Sarah broke down in your arms, sobbing uncontrollably, and you couldn’t help but notice Rafe watching from the corner of the room.

His expression wasn’t one of grief. It was satisfaction.

The night it all came crashing down, you were alone in your house. The power had gone out during a storm, and you were sitting in the living room with a flashlight and your phone, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling over you.

That’s when you heard the knock at the door.

It wasn’t loud—just three soft taps, deliberate and slow.

“Who is it?” you called, your voice shaking.

No response.

You grabbed a kitchen knife and crept toward the door, your heart pounding. When you peeked through the peephole, all you saw was darkness.

Then your phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number: You shouldn’t be alone.

Your blood ran cold.

Before you could react, the window behind you shattered, and a figure in black vaulted into the room. The scream caught in your throat as the figure lunged at you, pinning you to the floor.

The knife clattered from your hand as you struggled, but it was no use. The figure was too strong, too quick.

“Stop fighting,” the distorted voice said, low and mechanical through the voice modulator. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The masked figure pulled out a knife, holding it to your throat, but he didn’t press down. Instead, he leaned closer, tilting his head as if studying you.

Then, slowly, he removed the mask.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His eyes were wild, his lips curved into a twisted smile. “I told you I’d protect you,” he said, his voice soft but laced with something dark. “I just needed to get rid of the distractions.”

“Distractions?” you echoed, your mind racing as realization hit.

“Topper. JJ. Sarah. They were all in the way. You couldn’t see it, but I did. They didn’t deserve to be near you.”

Tears streamed down your face as you stared at him in horror. “You killed them? All of them?”

“I did it for you,” he said, his tone almost tender. “Don’t you see? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

You shook your head, trying to inch away, but he grabbed your wrists, his grip bruising.

The room was suffocating, the walls closing in as Rafe knelt over you, the Ghostface mask discarded at his side. His wild blue eyes locked onto yours, his breath uneven with exhilaration.

“Let me explain,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with madness. “You don’t understand now, but you will.”

You didn’t want to understand. Every instinct told you to fight, to scream, to do something, but his weight pinned you to the floor, and his manic gaze froze you in place.

“It started with Topper,” Rafe said, as if you’d asked for the story. “That guy was such an idiot, thinking he could push you around at parties, making those crude comments. I hated the way he looked at you.”

Your mind flashed to that night at the beach bonfire, when Topper had made some drunk joke about you being “the hottest Pogue.” You’d brushed it off, but Rafe had been furious, storming off without a word.

“I followed him that night,” Rafe continued, his tone calm, like he was recounting a mundane event. “He didn’t even hear me coming. One quick cut across the throat, and he went down like the pathetic little worm he was.”

You gagged, bile rising in your throat, but Rafe didn’t stop.

“And Sarah,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer. “She was always trying to play the big sister, telling me to leave you alone. She didn’t get it. She thought she could warn you, but she didn’t realize how serious I was.”

Tears blurred your vision as you thought of Sarah—her kind smile, the way she’d pulled you aside to warn you about Rafe’s behavior.

“I didn’t want to kill her,” he said, his voice softening, almost regretful. “But she wouldn’t shut up. She was going to ruin everything. So, I took her out by the marsh. She fought hard, you know? Almost made me rethink it. Almost.”

He paused, studying your face as if gauging your reaction. “I made it quick. For her.”

“You’re a monster,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

His eyes darkened, and he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t say that,” he hissed. “I did this for you. For us. You think I wanted to hurt you? To scare you? I had to. They were all trying to take you away from me.”

“JJ…” you started, your voice trembling.

Rafe grinned, leaning back slightly. “Oh, JJ was fun. He was always so cocky, always acting like he could protect you. I wanted to see him break.”

You remembered the day JJ’s body was found under the pier, the jagged “X” carved into his chest. The image would haunt you forever.

“He begged,” Rafe said, his tone almost giddy now. “He said, ‘Please, don’t do this.’ As if I’d ever listen to him. He didn’t deserve to be near you, Y/N. None of them did.”

“And Kie?” you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

Rafe’s expression hardened. “Kie was the worst. She thought she was better than everyone, always pretending she was the voice of reason. She was a bad influence on you.”

You felt like you might vomit as he continued.

“She went down easy,” he said with a shrug. “I cornered her after you two said goodbye that night. She didn’t even see it coming. She was so distracted, thinking she could keep you safe. But she didn’t stand a chance.”

Your sobs grew louder, and Rafe’s demeanor shifted. He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle despite the horrors he was describing.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured. “It’s over now. It’s just us. No one else will ever hurt you, or distract you, or take you away from me.”

“You’re insane,” you spat, your voice shaking with equal parts fear and fury.

Rafe chuckled, leaning closer. “Maybe. But I’m also the only one who truly loves you. Don’t you see that? I did all of this for you.”

You stared into his eyes, the weight of his obsession crashing down on you. There was no reasoning with him, no appealing to his humanity. Rafe Cameron wasn’t just insane—he was utterly and completely lost to his delusion.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You don’t have to fight this. I’ve already won.”

His arrogance was your opening. Summoning every ounce of courage you had left, you drove your knee upward, catching him off-guard. He grunted, the knife slipping from his hand and skidding across the floor.

You didn’t think—you just moved. Scrambling to your feet, you bolted for the door, your heart pounding like a war drum.

“Y/N!” Rafe roared, his voice filled with both fury and disbelief.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Your bare feet slapped against the hardwood as you sprinted out into the stormy night, rain pelting your face and blurring your vision. The wind howled around you, carrying Rafe’s voice as he shouted your name.

You stumbled into the woods, branches clawing at your skin as you pushed deeper into the darkness. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your lungs burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever.

Behind you, you could hear him crashing through the underbrush, relentless in his pursuit.

“You can’t run from me!” he called, his voice cutting through the rain like a blade. “You’re mine, Y/N! You’ll always be mine!”

————————————————————————

You didn’t know how long you ran, but eventually, you found yourself near the old marina. The boats swayed violently in the storm, their masts creaking like eerie sentinels. Desperation drove you forward as you searched for a hiding place, somewhere—anywhere—to catch your breath.

You spotted an abandoned boathouse and darted inside, slamming the door behind you. The smell of salt and damp wood filled your nostrils as you collapsed against the wall, your chest heaving.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then came the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be,” Rafe’s voice called out, eerily calm now.

Your heart plummeted as you realized he was inside.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your breathing as you pressed yourself deeper into the shadows.

“I know you’re here,” he said, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. “You think you can hide from me? After everything I’ve done for you?”

He was closer now. Too close.

You glanced around frantically, your eyes landing on a rusted wrench lying on the floor nearby. Gripping it tightly, you prepared yourself. You had no choice.

The moment his shadow appeared in the doorway, you swung. The wrench connected with his shoulder, and he let out a furious snarl, staggering back.

“You really think you can get away from me?” he growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

“I have to try,” you said, your voice shaking but firm.

He lunged, and you ducked, slipping past him and back out into the storm. Your legs screamed in protest, your lungs on fire, but you didn’t stop. Not until you saw the headlights.

A car was coming down the old dirt road, its beams cutting through the darkness like a beacon of hope. You stumbled into the road, waving your arms frantically.

“Help!” you screamed. “Please, help me!”

The car screeched to a halt, and the driver—a local you vaguely recognized—jumped out.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked, but before you could answer, Rafe emerged from the woods, his face twisted in rage.

“Don’t listen to her!” Rafe shouted, his tone switching to something almost pleading. “She’s confused—she doesn’t know what she’s saying!”

The driver hesitated, looking between the two of you.

“Please,” you begged, grabbing his arm. “He’s going to kill me!”

That was all it took. The man stepped between you and Rafe, his stance protective.

But Rafe didn’t flinch. He simply smiled.

“Wrong move,” Rafe muttered before pulling a knife from his belt and plunging it into the man’s side.

You screamed as the man crumpled to the ground, his blood mixing with the rain-soaked dirt.

“You see?” Rafe said, turning back to you, his knife dripping red. “There’s no one who can save you. No one who understands you like I do.”

————————————————————————

Days later, you woke up in a strange room, the faint scent of sea air filling your nose. Your wrists were bound, the rope digging into your skin.

Rafe sat in a chair nearby, his gaze soft but unwavering.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice tender. “No one’s going to take you away from me ever again.”

The reality settled over you like a shroud. You had escaped, but only briefly.

And now, there was no escape. Not from him. Not ever.

[bandsofmarv]

Hi! Could I request a comfort Bucky X reader where reader was cheated on and Bucky finds out?

Of course! I think I’ll do a part 2 continuation with more smut.

Always by your side.

Bucky your shoulder to cry on helps you navigate through a breakup after being cheated on.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt him before you saw him. The faint creak of the door, the quiet sound of boots padding across the floor, and then the familiar warmth of Bucky Barnes settling beside you on the couch.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. You stayed curled up in your blanket, staring at the rain streaking the window. “What are you doing here?” Your voice came out hoarse, brittle.

“Steve told me,” he said, and just those three words had you crumbling.

You blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill over. “You didn’t have to come,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, I did.”

You felt the couch shift as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’ve been there for me through some pretty dark stuff. I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

The dam broke. A sob tore through you, and suddenly the blanket wasn’t enough to hold you together. Before you could stop him, Bucky was pulling you into his arms, his embrace strong and unyielding.

“Shh, I got you,” he murmured, his voice steady and low, the kind of tone you’d expect from someone who knew how to anchor a storm. “Let it out. I’m right here.”

You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt as the tears flowed freely. He didn’t rush you, didn’t try to offer empty reassurances. He just held you, his flesh hand stroking your back while the cool metal one rested protectively on your arm.

“He cheated on me,” you choked out after a while, the words cutting like glass. “He said he loved me, and he—he just threw it all away.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to cup your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears staining your cheeks. His eyes, those deep blue eyes, were filled with so much tenderness it made your heart ache all over again.

“He’s a fool,” Bucky said firmly. “He didn’t deserve you, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve your love.”

You shook your head, guilt gnawing at you. “But what if I wasn’t enough? What if I—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice soft but commanding. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for his mistakes. You’re enough. You’re more than enough. And if he couldn’t see that, then he’s not worth another second of your tears.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. The conviction in his voice, the way he looked at you—it was like he was willing you to believe it, to see yourself the way he did.

“I don’t know how to move on from this,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, pulling you close again. “One step at a time,” he said. “And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, okay? As long as it takes. You’re not getting rid of me.”

His words wrapped around you like a second blanket, warm and steady. For the first time since it happened, you felt a flicker of something that almost resembled hope.

“Why are you so good to me?” you whispered.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Because you’re you. And because… I care about you. Probably more than I should, if I’m being honest.”

You looked up at him, surprised, but he just smiled—a small, tentative thing, like he wasn’t sure how you’d take it.

“I mean it,” he said. “You deserve someone who sees how incredible you are. Someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you. And if I get my way, one day you’ll see that person could be me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart stuttering in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, but Bucky didn’t seem to expect an answer.

“For now, though,” he continued, pulling you back into his arms, “just let me take care of you. Let me remind you how loved you are.”

————————————————————————

You stayed in Bucky’s arms for what felt like hours, the weight of your pain slowly lightening with each passing minute. He didn’t rush you, didn’t pressure you to feel better, he just was there—steadfast and steady, the anchor you needed in the storm of your emotions.

At some point, the tears stopped coming, and all that was left was the quiet sound of your breathing mingling with his. His hand was still tracing slow, comforting circles on your back, his presence both soothing and grounding.

“You’re not alone in this, you know,” Bucky said, his voice low, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile moment.

You nodded against his chest, your fingers still twisted in the fabric of his shirt, holding on like you never wanted to let go. The warmth of his body, the smell of his cologne, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest—it felt like everything was finally starting to make sense again.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for being here.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes locking onto yours with such intensity that it made your heart flutter. He didn’t say anything right away, just kept you close, the distance between you minimal, but it felt charged with something more.

After a beat, he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to be okay. And when you are, I want to be here—right beside you. In whatever way you need me.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. You couldn’t be sure what this was—this closeness, this bond—but you knew you didn’t want to let go of it. Not now. Not ever.

Slowly, your hand found its way to his cheek, your fingers brushing over the smooth skin there. Bucky’s breath hitched at the touch, his eyes flickering closed, his face softening beneath your fingertips.

“You mean a lot to me, Bucky,” you whispered, your heart racing.

His eyes opened again, and the sincerity in them made your chest tighten. “You mean the world to me,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

The words were raw, honest, and as much as you wanted to stay in the comfort of the silence, the moment felt too charged. You felt his presence closing in on you, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over the skin there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, just barely, his lips hovering a breath away from yours. You could feel the heat of his breath on your face, the tension building between you, so tangible, it almost hurt.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and tentative, like he was asking permission.

You didn’t need to think about it. You could feel the pull between you, the shared desire, the quiet longing that had always been there, only now it was unspoken but undeniable.

You nodded, barely able to breathe, before you closed the gap.

Bucky’s lips were soft and warm against yours, tender at first, like he was waiting for you to respond, to meet him halfway. When you did, it was like everything snapped into place. The kiss deepened slowly, a promise and an apology wrapped into one. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and you allowed yourself to melt into him, your heart beating faster than it had in days.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his, both of you sharing the same unsteady, yet contented, breath.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours once more. “Always.”

And for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to believe it.