missvelvetsstuff

[missvelvetsstuff]

Back to You

thunderbolts!bucky x fugitive!reader summary: two years after bucky disappears from your life, you find him at your door - uninvited and full of regrets. except now, you're a fugitive, and he's an avenger. valentina wants you dead. bucky says he's here to help. but trust is a luxury you can't afford - and bucky may already be too late. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── warnings/tags: angst, mild language, brief mentions of death, tension (they want each other so bad), lowk lovers to enemies to lovers again, mention of Valentina allegro defontaine (yes she's a warning), talks of assassination, longing, mistrust, trust issues, weapons, guns, attempted breaking & entering, uhhh I think thats all idk

a/n: This is my first time EVER posting a fic anywhere ever. I'm lowk so nervous cuz idk how to do this but ummm enjoy, I guess? and lmk if u want a part 2 heh ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I am half-asleep and buried in my sofa when I hear it. 

The soft creak of footsteps along the hardwood floor just outside my apartment door. 

The quiet is intentional. Stealthy. The person in the hall did not want to be heard. They knew I was listening. Or, maybe they were the one listening. 

I imagine my intruder’s ear pressed against the door, maybe one hand picking a lock as gently as they can, assuming I am asleep at the late hour. 

But I never sleep. Not anymore. 

I am all but quick as I tilt my head towards the noise, watching as a silhouette dances under the crack of the door. It stretches along the tiles, illuminated only by the hall outside. I exhale through my nostrils. I am not worried. I knew he would be coming. 

There is a click and the knob shifts. Creaks downward, and my intruder presses forward. They must be an idiot if they thought I only had one lock.

I suppress an only slightly irritated groan, forcing myself up from the sofa and grabbing the gun holstered into my thigh. I didn’t even bother removing it before plopping onto the couch earlier. At least it was easy to grab, now that I needed it. 

I approach the door slowly, keeping my footsteps light, my breathing slow. I hold the gun to the door, watching as the silhouette shifts through the other side. 

Quietly, slowly, I unlock the door, and swiftly pull it open. On the other side stands the one man I had been dreading to see, his eyebrows raised in sudden surprise – although I knew very well that he’d been coming. 

“Barnes.” My tone is harsher than I expected as I narrow my eyes at him, the resentment I’d forced all the way down threatening to spill back up. An unexpected tide of emotion flares at the sight of him, and I feel my throat lodge with something unspeakable. 

It’s been two years. 

Bucky says my name wearily, his tone laced with regret and exasperation all in one. I can’t tell if he’s upset with me, or with himself. All I know is that it doesn’t matter, because he’s only here for one thing. “We need to talk.” 

I don’t know why I’m shocked. I know he’s here to discuss how I’ve become a fugitive to the government–how Valentina deFontaine hired me for my assassination skills, only to try to exterminate me in the process. She wanted her slate cleaned, and I was evidence of her dirty work. I’d later discovered this had been the case for many assassins working under her wing–I’d just been the one lucky enough to survive. 

“Were you trying to break in?” I ask, stepping back so he can enter. “Because all you needed to do was knock.” It’s a bitter attempt at a joke, mostly because I am not used to him being here. Not at all. Bucky scoffs. “You wouldn’t have opened the door if I hadn’t at least tried.” 

I walk over to the sofa and plop back down, leaning my head back on the cushions. “No.” I holster my gun. “I wouldn’t have.” 

Bucky takes a moment to look around. His gaze is sharp and calculating as it skims the room. His frame is large in the midst of the small, dark apartment, and suddenly the room feels tighter. I try not to shift in my seat – Bucky will know I’m already uncomfortable. 

Tonight, I need to show him I’m not afraid of Valentina's bullshit, or whatever garbage he’s delivered on her behalf. I know that he works for her, too. Or, more, she works for him. After the team of vigilantes became the serendipitous New Avengers, it wasn’t clear who was controlling who. All I know is that they’re on the same side. Which means Bucky and I are not. 

“How…” He starts, and I am already beginning to roll my eyes. “How have you been–?” “Don’t with the small talk.” I throw him an impatient look. “I get it. I haven’t seen you in two years, you’re a part of the New Avengers, and you’re here to take me in so Valentina can have me killed. No pleasantries. Is that so hard?” 

“Well, I figured, since it’s been a while–” Bucky says after a pause, although he doesn’t seem fazed. I cut him off again. “If you cared, you would have come earlier. Before the New Avengers.” This time, he gives me a look of resignation, as if he hadn’t had any choice. 

He did. 

“You’re right.” He says, placing a hand on his hip. “Valentina sent me here to bring you in.” 

I scoff. “What else is new?”

“But I’m not going to.” Bucky crosses his arms, and I glance up at him, unsurprised. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

“Because I want to talk. I’m not letting her get you killed for something she made you do.” I avoid his gaze, because I won’t let myself believe that he cares. I eye the TV screen across the sofa, dark, just like everything else in this apartment. Bucky’s reflection is a blurry patch of obsidian next to my own, and I can see the shape of his large arms folded over his chest, reserved and calm and patient. 

“She didn’t make me do anything, Bucky.” I say, watching the blank TV screen. “I’m the one who’s getting paid for doing the dirty work.” 

“I don’t think you had a choice. Or deserve to die because of it.” 

I snort. “Tell that to the government. There’s nothing you can do to stop Valentina from getting my ass wiped off the face of this planet.” 

Bucky is silent. But it’s not resolute. It’s calculating. 

He’s thinking. 

“What’re you up to? Some sort of super secret escape plan that will get me off of this continent and into the arms of the next Allegra deFontaine?”

“I know how to keep you safe. If you’ll let me.” Bucky says after a moment, completely ignoring what I just said. 

I sit up, although my interest is not piqued. After leaving me alone for two years, I’m not sure I know the supersoldier in front of me anymore. “I don’t need you to keep me safe. I need you to leave.” I say, eyeing him as I begin to stand. I want to reach his height – show him I’m better off alone. Although, if I’m being honest with myself, I know that’s a lie. “I can’t do that.” Bucky says lowly, glaring at me. “Valentina will find you just like I did. The next time an Avenger is at your door, it won’t be me standing there. It will be someone who wants to get their job done. Someone who is willing to get you killed.” 

I hold his gaze. “Valentina sent you. She’ll know you’ve hidden me somewhere if you come back empty-handed. This is a trap.” I state, taking a step closer. 

“Valentina doesn’t know I’m here.” He says, his voice a low rumble. My breathing falters. He came here without her knowing?

“That’s dangerous.” I tell him, and I don’t let the shock I feel show on my face. 

“It’s nothing new.” He says, and there’s a familiar glint in his eye. 

I eye him for a moment. I don’t know what he’s up to. His motives have long changed since I’d seen him last – with shorter hair, less lines on his face and those strong hands hidden beneath worn leather gloves. Now he wore no gloves – his metal hand bare, and I realize it’s because he’s no longer the low-profile ex-assassin trying to return to a normal life. Now, he’s an Avenger, and everyone knows who he is – there’s no reason to hide what everyone already knows is there. I briefly recall going to the store late at night only to see his face plastered onto a Wheaties box, my chest aching and my head pounding. It was the late hour, and his face was the last thing I had wanted to see.  Ironic how that hadn’t been the case only a few years prior. 

“Why do you care if I’m killed?” I ask finally, crossing my arms defensively. “It’s not like you cared before. Before you went ahead and became the one and only Congressman James Buchanan Barnes. Didn’t even care to call or drop by uninvited until you needed something from me. Is that all I am to you, Barnes?” I glare up at him. “A convenient asset? A means to an end? Just some weapon you can rely on when all the others are old and rusty?” Bucky’s throat bobs as though lodged with everything he wants to say – as if he can’t choose which one to spew first. He exhales through his nose before speaking. “You know you’re so much more than that to me.” He says, his voice softer. He doesn’t bother with the excuses. Doesn’t even flinch at my accusations. He knows what he’s done. And that makes it so much harder to hate him. 

I don’t say anything. I’m too frustrated.

He continues anyway. “What will you do when Valentina finds you? Honestly?” 

I look away, studying the door. I wish he would leave. I wish he had never come through it in the first place. “Fight them off. Find someplace else to stay.” 

Bucky almost snorts. “Like that’ll work.” 

“Really? Why not?” I know he’s right. He knows I know. 

He grows exasperated, but his voice does not rise. “They know where you are. Val’s probably going to send Yelena or Walker over here in the dead of night–”

“–Funny, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” I comment. 

“–and the next thing you know, there’ll be a bullet in your head. And even if you do manage to fight them off–” he basically taunts me with the absurdity of my own words. “–it won’t be hard for them to find you again. It didn’t even take me twenty-four hours.”

My arms tighten around my chest. Bucky’s words hang in the air. I was an idiot to think I was ever safe to begin with. “So, then what?” I ask, because it seems a little hopeless when he puts it that way. “What would you do if I agreed to… whatever plan you have for me?”  

Bucky’s brows twitch, as though he had expected even more defiance than I had already given him. “My plan is to keep you safe. But you have to trust me. If you stay here, you’ll die.” He says my name after that, a gentle plea, as if to convince me to listen, to let him show me that he really cares. 

I take a moment to savour the sound of it on his lips without the harshness he had carried with him when he’d said it before. Then I process what he’s said after that – and, again, I know he’s right. It’s disgusting. I hate admitting that he’s right. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” he says, stepping forward. There’s a softness to him now that I’ve finally caved, his eyes furrowed with more concern than frustration, his shoulders less tense now that he’s convinced me to come with him. 

“I never said that.” I say, although it’s harsh and bitter and filled with everything I never got to say to him. I may hate him, but I know Bucky. We’d spent so much time alongside each other before… everything… that it was hard not to know him. Not to trust him. 

Bucky’s face doesn’t shield the surprise at my words, although he is quick to recover. “I know someplace you can stay, somewhere safe and far away from here. But I can’t say more than that right now.” He tells me, his eyes scanning the apartment once more. “Pack your things.” He says quietly. “And I’ll tell you everything on the way.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── to be continued...

a/n (again): I really just wanted to get this out of my google docs and into the open, but pls lmk if u want a part two, idk how Tumblr works so im not expecting this to get a million likes or views or whatever. anyways pls lmk what u think hehehe

[missvelvetsstuff]

★ ⎯one beach and one bed.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader. Bucky Barnes x New Avenger!reader.

Tags: Thunderbolts, New Avengers. Enemies to lovers. One bed trope. Forced proximity.

Synopsis: REQUEST! The relationships within the team were rocky, especially between Bucky and you. Until one day, a failed mission changes everything. From that day, they all make it their duty to get the two of you together. Even if it means giving you one bed to share in Alexei's beach island vacation.

Warnings: Canon divergencies. Possible grammar and spelling mistakes. Minor mentions of injury. Not quite proofread. Forced proximity, I guess.

Taglist: @balladofareader @lovethornes @viqwxcs @raineraspberries1 @urmumsfan @bloodwrittenletters @tellybearryyyy @princess-luka @wonwoosthetic @hiraethmae @cluvsya @faiszt @sra7riddle-malfoy @canisusmajor @nicolebarnes

A/N: I'm not usually one for enemies to lovers, but I actually like the way this one turned out. Silly Thunderbolts fic—oh, the things I write for requests. Also, I have never been on one of those beach island vacations, so I'm just making this up based on the images in my head.

I do not consent for my work to be uploaded onto other platforms or translated. Reblog to support. Comment to be added to my taglist

When the Thunderbolts became the New Avengers, nobody actually believed they could become a functioning team. They had already proved to be antithetic—a dysfunctional family with superpowers.

Yelena had to constantly tell Alexei not to tell embarrassing stories from her childhood, Ava argued with John about who had drank the last carton of orange juice. Yelena argued with John about who had won the training duel of the morning prior, and then Ava would aggressively beg Alexei for an hour of peace and quiet.

However, out of the whole team, the ones with the biggest arguments, were Bucky and you. Every insignificant detail would spark a heated debate; failed missions, missing reports, dirty counters, open windows that allowed rain to come in, you name it.

There never seemed to be a moment of truce between the both of you. So much so that Yelena had forced you to sit at opposite ends of the table during briefings, dinners, and especially during Alexei's game nights.

Missions would often go sideways due to your inability to let go of grudges. Always trying to show off, to prove who was the smartest, the strongest. Bucky had never been one to quite want to exhibit his power, but for you, he made an exception.

Everything you did infuriated him; the way you talked too loudly when you had something to say, your stubbornness to stick to the plan, your unrelenting thrive to be good and help people. Your pressingly smooth moves on the battlefield, and the definitely not gorgeous way you tied your hair tighter when you knew a big fight was coming.

He was also totally not amazed by how well you seemed to understand his past. You never asked questions, never laughed at Alexei's Winter Soldier jokes—but that was just the bare minimum, right? It was what a normal teammate with half an ounce of respect would do. It wasn't like he appreciated the support that lingered despite all the fights.

Until the mission came. This one was considerably more dangerous than your usual ones. All of you went in prepared; loaded guns, sharpened knives, extra layers of protective gear, and one big plan.

It was still not enough to prevent the damage brought by having been so close to being beaten by a group of rouge, enhanced individuals, and after that, escaping an exploding building.

You barely made it out of there, your leg had got stuck under a piece of concrete on your way out—the only reason you survived was a certain metal arm, which was able to free you.

With time, the aggressive glares started to hide something beyond anger. They carried something deeper, something that had been brewing over a lot of time, and a shared past neither of you were willing to discuss.

And the Thunderbolts? They all sure noticed. It was quite the difference to see the both of you go from absolutely yelling your lungs out to each other, to calmly arguing like decent people with smart arguments.

They took the civil treatment as a show of true love.

The tension within the rest of the team started to ease as well. In a painfully slow manner, the Thunderbolts started to understand one another.

For a few months, the team was nearing something resembling peace. Que for Alexei's brilliant, dashing idea; a beach vacation. It was supposed to make the team bond, and take some edge off.

The team landed on the island during a warm, and quiet afternoon. Alexei got out of the jet with a broad grin on his face, opening his arms widely as he walked around the villa. “Well, Thunderbolts, I present you with the Amazing Thunderbolt Sunny Resort!”

Ava suppressed a laugh, crossing her arms in a questioning manner. “I'm sorry, just how did you get this?”

“Everyone wants to do the Red Guardian a favor.” Alexei retorted, half offended at her query, and half overly proud of himself.

The rest of the team shared a look, not wanting to further press on the matter. Whatever he had done, you would deal with later—after your vacation.

“Alright,” Alexei turned to you, placing his hands on his hips. “Why don't you and Mr. Soldier go bring our bags, eh? Leave them there, by the entrance.”

“Why—never mind, we'll go.” You shook your head, nodding from Bucky to the jet.

Once you were out of sight, the Red Guardian brought the team into a circle. Their heads were close—as if they were a football team discussing their next strategy—and the words that came out of their mouths were whispered.

“Time to begin with our master plan,” he grinned. “I made sure they had to share a room—and more.”

Yelena, then, chimed in. “This better work. Because I don't know for how much longer I'll be able to stand their sexual tension.”

Bucky insisted he could carry four bags on his own, and to be completely honest, you were too exhausted to argue with him. You closed your eyes for just a moment, and allowed him to carry Alexei, Yelena, Bob, and Ava's bag all in one trip.

You took John's and started walking, both of you had previously arranged you would take care of your own bag once the team was set.

“Alexei said the rooms had names on the door,” Bucky huffed out, adjusting his grip on the straps of the bags on his right arm.

You nodded, setting your eyes on the different huts that laid next to one another. “This is a really sweet thing for Alexei to do—even if his sources are questionable. We all could use some time away from New York, especially after the last mission.”

“He tries. He always does.” It was true. Despite how frustrating Alexei's constant attempts at friendship were, you all knew that all he ever wanted to do was help.

“Thank you, by the way.” You lowered your pace, and something in your voice turned deeper, gentler.

“Whatever for?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, his blue gaze shifting from the short path ahead to you.

“You know what for.”

“You're my teammate, of course I'd save you. We may argue, but I'm not about to leave you behind.” His statement was direct, precise, and clear as if there was no other plausible option other than turning back around to pull you out of the rubble.

Then you smiled, and for the faintest of moments, he almost did, too. His eyes caught yours, and this time, they held no enmity.

A beat passed, and Bucky cleared his throat. “Look, over there,” he pointed towards one of the rooms. “That one's got John's name.”

The rooms all looked alike, one bed, a wooden closet, two bedside tables, a large window, a few paintings of all things tropical, and a bathroom.

After both of you were done dropping the bags in their respective spots, you walked the way back to the quinjet to get yours. Separately this time, you took your personal luggage, and took it to your room.

That was exactly where the problems started.

The hut in the middle had your name on the door, yes. But it was right underneath Bucky's. It was the biggest one of out of the six—perhaps it had been all Alexei had been able to afford.

However, when you walked through the entrance, another thing came to your attention. Despite having enough room for two, or even three twin-sized beds, there was only one—king-sized, meant for two people, and meant for a couple.

“Bucky?” you called out, knowing he was somewhere nearby.

“What?” He answered while climbing up the small stairs to the hut.

“I think there's been a mistake here,” you moved out of the way, allowing for him to see the bed in question.

“I'll take the floor, don't worry, not the first time I do. And I'll talk to Alexei.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him how absurd it was to sleep on the floor, but you knew better than to start an argument right in the middle of your island retreat.

By the time you came back, the team was engrossed in a heated volleyball game. Yelena, Bob, and Ava on one side, John and Alexei on the other. It didn't take grand wisdom and sports knowledge to be able to notice that the girls—and Bob—had quite the upper hand.

“You—” John turned around, pointing a finger at you. “You're coming to our side.”

You snorted, making your way to the boys. “Weren't you some super fit jock in high school?”

“I played football. It's not the same.” He deadpanned, moving his hands to do an awful bump. The ball went flying right into the net, falling back again to the sand of your own side. Yet another point for the girls, and Bob.

Ava took the ball, serving sharply. Despite your best attempts to make some sort of counter-attack, it went flying right past you. It was exhausting at this point.

“I'm outta here,” John waved his hand dismissively, grumbling as he walked away. The girls cheered, and Yelena fist-bumped with Bob.

“C'mon,” Ava looked at you, smiling as she crossed her arms. “Yelena said she wanted to show us something. Girls only.”

You nodded, and Bob grabbed his book, sitting down next to a tree as the three girls of the team went away to discuss their own issues. Bucky was too deeply immersed in his own thoughts to notice the giant Red Guardian approaching.

He swung his arm around his shoulder, grinning as he patted Bucky's shoulder. “So, Mr. Soldier. This is all so amazing, isn't it?”

“Yes, it's good,” he responded flatly, summoning all the patience in his being to be able to get through this conversation.

“Let me ask you one question, yes?” Alexei had the look in his eye of a questioning father-in-law. “Do you have girlfriend?”

“What?” Bucky's face scrunched in confusion. Out of all the words that could have come out of his mouth, out of all the questions in the world, this was definitely not one he had expected. “Do you seriously think I've got time for that?”

“Well, if you don't have girlfriend, why haven't you asked [reader] out on a date yet?” Alexei leaned closer, overly proud of his questioning, feeling as though he had the Winter Soldier Cornered.

“So this is what it was all about? The room, the bed.” Bucky pushed the Red Guardian away, who now stood with a sheepish expression, scratching the back of his head. “No, no, that was just a coincidence.”

The rest of the evening went by quite quickly, faster than what you would have thought. Turns out, a vacation with your team was tad more fun than what any of you would have anticipated.

You went swimming with the girls, and then shared stories over the campfire dinner with the rest of the team. You even had an extensive conversation with Bob about the book he was reading.

The fire eventually began to die out, and the cold wind encouraged everyone to retreat to their own rooms, and call it a day. You waved goodbye to everyone, and from the corner of your eye, you caught Yelena mouthing something that very well could have been 'good luck'.

When you opened the door to your hut, you found yourself with the sight of Bucky, half-asleep, arms crossed, back to the headboard of the table, and legs stretched out. The minute he heard the floorboards creak, he was jolted awake.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes as he stood up. “Take the bed like we talked. Don't make me argue over this.” He stated flatly, taking a pillow and the blanket that was folded over the duvet, and placing both on the ground.

“Bucky—” you tried to voice out, only to be cut off.

“Goodnight, alright?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, pushing you to comply, as he sat on the floor.

“Good night, Bucky.”

If you guys like this, maybe there will be a second part. And maybe in that second part, Bucky and you will end up sharing a bed after all... Perhaps a little vacation was the last push you needed to fall in love.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Congrats on 1,800 followers! Can you write 6❤️‍🩹 with Bucky?

Hi love! Thank you and of course!!

Warnings: major character death ☺️

1.8k follower celebration

I sit here at a bland desk at a company that barely knows my name & do a job that is easily done by someone else. The pain that I am in morrow deep and cell weaved. I remember the day that I failed every time I type and hear the click of my keyboard. I remember the day that I failed every time a coworker who knows a false name calls me on Teams. I remember the day that I failed when I caught glimpses of 'breaking news' stories and saw fragments of his name there.

I remember the day I failed when the activist teams emailed me and asked for my support on a bill he created.

I remember the day I failed when I heard her grating voice bragging that she created the New Avengers when it was really him and the others.

I remember the day I failed so clearly that I feel no reprieve in this life nor will I in the next. The failure to bring back life when it is my only power hurts greater than any wound I have ever known.

My beloved James lied upon my lap with a slash across his stomach, leaking thick blood no matter how hard I pressed my hands against it. I muttered the prayers over and over again as blue light flickered weakly from my palms. Begging my gods to listen to me one last time, I ignored the even weaker protests from Bucky until he pulled against my wrists.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he whispered before choking on that damned blood.

I shook my head and kept my eyes trained on the work below me. Twice more he called to me and I peeled my eyes away to see his drifting closed.

"Hey hey, listen to me...just take deep breaths," I instructed through tears, "follow my breathing just like that. No need to panic or go quiet on me like that. I'm right here now, aren't I? You're safe and you're going to be okay."

He did try to breathe with me, I'll give him that but it proved too much for his fading soul. He gave me one last breath, an "I love you" twisted in it before his blue light flickered out.

My shaking hands flew to catch his pulse before it faded completely.

"Bucky...Bucky open your eyes. Come on baby. Open your eyes," I sobbed while pulling him into me even more. Tight hands gripped at him as I started to pray even harder and cried out every healing spell I could think of into his rapidly cooling body.

After that I don't remember what happened. Yelena told me once that my tears had started to glow blue and the air around us crackled, sending a wave of hope through the city. Everyone injured by the Void came out unscathed but not Bucky. Sam promised to build a memorial and cried with me when we saw the various flowers that had bloomed where Bucky had laid.

I remember the day I failed Bucky when I see the forget me nots that bloom in his honor.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Bucky touches himself at the thought of you in the shower.

18+ CW’s below the cut: language and male masturbation

a/n: this little blurb is in Bucky’s POV!

Y/N: I just need to jump in the shower quick then I’ll head over! I’m so excited for our weekly movie night. I’ve missed my best friend 🥹

An audible, deep groan, fell from my lips as I leaned my head back against the headrest of my chair when I read the text from my best friend. Trying so hard not to imagine her in the shower.

Naked, water, and soap ran down every inch of her unholy skin.

“Shit,” I cursed when my dick twitched in my sweats.

“Bucky.”

Y/N’s voice rang in my ear as my eyes fluttered shut, hands in fists on my thighs. My vision was so vivid as if I was in the shower with her, our wet skin ablaze as I wrapped my arms around her from behind to bury my face into the crook of her neck.

“Such a good girl,” I breathed while my palm pressed against my hard cock in my sweats.

My hips raised from the chair as a moan crawled out of my throat, my hand now all but ripping out my dripping cock from my pants. It was red and thick with the mere thought of Y/N in the shower. Gripping it between my fingers, I slowly pumped up and down, thumb grazing over the pre-cum that leaked out from the slit and circled it around the head of my cock.

“Bucky, I need you.”

Her name fell from my lips as a prayer while I leaned farther back into my chair as my hand worked faster, the grip around myself tightened as the orgasm buzzed in my lower stomach. The burn felt so good but it wasn’t enough; I needed something else to help me over the edge.

I pulled the extra skin down tight, cock standing straight up in my hand, as I let out a strangled breath. My orgasm was right there, but I wanted to edge myself longer; I didn’t want this vision to end.

Y/N rubbed the soap over every inch of her skin, her fingers teasing over her nipples as her head fell back, water spraying into her mouth.

But after that vision, another one came to mind which made my hand work in faster strokes. Y/N on top of me with her hands gripping my hair as her mouth fell slack with ecstasy.

“Fuck. Shit.” I cursed as a shock shot from the base of my spine to the top when my body went stiff, orgasm so close to destroying me.

I jerked when my phone buzzed against the computer desk so I stopped my actions but kept my grip tight on my aching cock to realize Steve was calling me for whatever reason.

Ignore.

With my phone still in my hand, I quickly went to my photos and clicked on one of my favorite pictures of Y/N, a small smile playing on her sweet, plump lips.

Fuck, I wished those lips were strangled around my cock.

Once the phone was set up directly in front of me, I leaned back into my chair again and worked my hand in fast short strokes, the orgasm once again burning low in my belly.

“Bucky.” Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind again.

“Shit, love . I’m gonna-fuck,” I groaned low, the noise barely audible as it crawled out of my throat when my release finally washed over me.

Cum shot all over my hand and onto my pants but none of that mattered; my dark eyes were stuck on the picture on the screen. Until a different picture appeared which had me cursing and wiping my cum covered hand on my pants before tucking myself away. Just a simple phone call from her had my dick aching again.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Things He Couldn't Say

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

----------

1. That your laugh was the only sound that didn’t scare him.

Bucky had a list in his head of things that made him flinch. Alarms. Helicopter blades. Glass breaking. Footsteps behind him on an empty street.

But then there was your laugh.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t particularly graceful either. It cracked out of you, caught on your tongue, sometimes ended in a snort. But it was warm. Real. Unfiltered joy. And it never, not once, made him flinch.

He heard it the first time in the kitchen, when you tried making pancakes and set off the smoke alarm. You laughed as you waved a towel at the ceiling, laughing so hard you doubled over. And Bucky—tense from the noise and the smoke—had felt his whole body loosen at the sound.

He wanted to tell you then. Wanted to say, That laugh could fix anything.

But instead, he just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and offered a crooked smile. And you never knew what it meant.

2. That he watched you sleep during missions.

It wasn’t about romance. Not at first.

It was survival.

In safehouses across continents, between missions too close to horror and death, you would always fall asleep first. Curled up in some spare cot or on the floor, one arm tucked under your head, breathing steady.

And Bucky, even with his training, even with the serum, could never rest. Not until he saw that you were safe. He counted your breaths instead of sheep. Tracked the rise and fall of your chest instead of threats.

He memorized how your foot twitched just before you dreamed. How you mumbled nonsense when you were nearly waking. How sometimes you frowned, and he wondered what the hell could make someone like you worry even in sleep.

He never said a word. Just let the silence hold his secret. It was safer that way.

3. That he hated when other people made you laugh.

He wasn’t proud of it.

Sam always had a joke. Steve could make you crack a grin with barely a word. Hell, even that new kid from Stark’s lab had you giggling over takeout containers and Star Wars references.

And Bucky would watch. Quiet. Half-smiling. Nodding when appropriate.

But inside, something twisted.

Because it wasn’t fair. He wanted to be the one who made you glow like that. He wanted to be the reason your voice bubbled up and out like music. Not Steve. Not Sam. Not the damn tech intern.

He never told you. He barely admitted it to himself.

You weren’t his. And he wouldn’t risk ruining what little you did have.

So he let the jealousy eat away at the edges of him. Slow. Silent. Like rust.

4. That he kept the note you wrote him.

It was nothing, really. Just a scribbled "Be safe out there" on a sticky note you slapped on his gear bag before Prague. A little smiley face at the end. The ink had smudged slightly where your thumb brushed it.

But to Bucky, it might as well have been scripture.

He didn’t say a word about it. Just peeled it off, folded it in half, and tucked it into the chest pocket of his vest. Right over his heart.

It stayed there through rain, gunfire, and days of silence. When things got bad, when he couldn’t think straight, he would press his gloved hand to his chest and remember that someone had wanted him to come back.

He could never tell you how much it meant. It would have sounded ridiculous. Or worse—desperate.

So he just kept the note. Quiet armor against the world.

5. That he loved you the night you stitched him up.

He’d taken a blade to the ribs, too close to an artery. You’d dragged him inside your apartment, covered in blood and fury, cursing under your breath.

He’d slumped against your bathtub while you knelt in front of him, threading a needle with trembling hands.

“You’re not dying on me, Barnes,” you had muttered. Fierce. Gentle. Your hands soaked with his blood but steady as you worked.

He watched you the whole time. Memorized the line of your jaw, the way your brow furrowed in concentration. And when you finally looked up at him, exhausted but soft, he fell.

Not the kind of fall you recover from.

You called him Bucky that night. Not Soldier. Not Sergeant. Just Bucky.

And he wanted to say it then. I love you. God, I love you.

But he bit it back. Let the silence swallow it.

+1. That he loved you every day since.

It didn’t come during a dramatic moment. Not after a near-death experience or a long stare across a battlefield.

It happened on a Tuesday.

Rain tapped against the windows. You wore his sweatshirt—the one you stole and refused to give back. You were barefoot, making coffee, humming something tuneless.

You turned and handed him a mug. Smiled at him like you always did. Like you weren’t waiting for anything. Like being near him was enough.

He held the mug. Looked down into it. Then back at you.

And it just...slipped out.

“I love you.”

Your smile faltered.

“What?”

He didn’t look away. Not this time.

“I love you,” he said again, voice low but steady. “Have for a long time. I just couldn’t say it until now.”

The silence stretched. His heart pounded. And then— you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Pressed your cheek to his chest.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered.

And Bucky finally let himself breathe.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Chapter 2: Nobody Knows

Summary:

The team doesn’t seem to know anything about “Bucky’s girlfriend,” and the mystery only deepens. You get closer with Yelena, Bob, John, Ava, and Alexei—anything to keep your mind off him. But Bucky keeps looking at you like you hung the moon, and it’s getting harder to pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Content Warnings:

More angst, emotional tension, jealousy, self-doubt, soft friendship bonding, mention of Bucky’s past.

⸻

The next few weeks pass like a slow, dragging ache.

You don’t avoid Bucky, exactly—you’re far too professional for that. But you keep your distance. No lingering glances. No conversations outside work. Just logistics, briefings, schedules, and surface-level small talk that makes you feel like a stranger in your own skin.

You throw yourself into your job. You stop checking for his name on the cafeteria sign-in. You ignore how he hovers near your desk just long enough to make your heart clench. You remind yourself he’s with someone. Maybe quiet about it, maybe private—but that doesn’t make it less real.

And you? You’ve never even had a boyfriend. Never been kissed. You’re confident, yeah. You’re good at your work, and you know your value. But when it comes to love, you’re standing on the outside of a window you’ve never had the courage to open.

So you bury it. That want. That hope.

And you focus on everyone else.

⸻

Yelena becomes your partner-in-crime.

She drags you to sparring sessions “for morale,” insists you taste-test her instant noodle creations, and acts like your emotional bodyguard whenever your gaze drifts too close to a certain super soldier. She sees everything and says very little, which somehow makes her the loudest.

Bob becomes your resident little brother, if your little brother could bench a dump truck. He’s terrible with tech and constantly forgets passwords, but he lights up when you help him—even when you threaten to strangle him with a charging cable.

John’s easier to manage—abrasive, maybe, but weirdly protective. He invites you to poker nights you never attend and offers you sarcastic dating advice like “just jump his bones already.” You flip him off so often it might as well be your secret handshake.

Ava’s quiet, but she listens. She doesn’t pry. She gives you that little nod sometimes across the gym or the hallway, like she gets it. Like she knows what it’s like to want something you don’t think you deserve.

And Alexei?

Alexei tries to set you up with literally everyone.

“Viktor from security. Very handsome. Strong calves. You would make powerful babies.”

You almost choke on your energy drink.

“Absolutely not.”

“Is it because of the other one? Metal arm man?”

“Alexei—”

“Don’t lie. I see you. You pine. He broods. Very tragic.”

“I’m going to electrocute you with your own comms unit.”

He shrugs. “Kinky.”

⸻

It should get easier with time. That’s what people say. But it doesn’t.

Because Bucky keeps looking at you.

And every time you meet his eyes, it’s like you forget how to breathe.

⸻

“Can I ask you something weird?”

Yelena’s voice cuts into your late-night re-stocking checklist. You’re alone in the supply bay, logging new ammo into the system when she appears in the doorway like some nosy blonde shadow.

“Always,” you sigh.

She crosses her arms. “Do you know who Bucky’s dating?”

Your stomach flips. You force a shrug. “Not really. Why?”

“Because no one else does either.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“I asked around. Casually. Like normal friend behavior. Bob didn’t know. John said something about a tech girl from D.C. but he’s mostly just jealous that someone might be hotter than him. Ava rolled her eyes. Alexei said it was a shapeshifter spy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just private?”

“Maybe,” she says, unconvinced. “But I’ve been watching.”

“Creepy.”

“Shut up. I haven’t seen him talk to anyone besides you and maybe Ava. He barely makes eye contact with the rest of us. So if he’s seeing someone, he’s hiding it better than Romanoff used to hide weapons in her hair.”

You try to laugh. “That’s a low bar.”

But something in your chest clenches.

Because you want to believe her. You want to believe there’s no her. But that’s dangerous. Hope is dangerous.

You turn back to the screen. “It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business.”

She watches you quietly. “He asked about you yesterday.”

You freeze.

“Asked what?”

“Just… if you were okay. If you were mad at him.”

Your throat feels tight.

“I’m not mad.”

“You sure?”

“I’m just tired.”

Yelena walks over, rests a hand on your shoulder. “So is he.”

⸻

A few days later, you’re in the training facility, organizing gear when you feel the air shift.

You don’t have to look to know it’s him.

But you do anyway.

Bucky walks in, hair slightly damp, gray shirt clinging to his chest like he ran drills with the others. He doesn’t say anything, just scans the room—and of course, his eyes land on you.

You look away.

Keep folding uniforms. Keep pretending.

He crosses the mat slowly, as if not to spook you.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Did you, uh… get the inventory I sent?”

You nod without turning. “Yeah. Fixed it. You had Ava listed under comms clearance instead of recon. No big deal.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Silence.

You know he’s still standing there.

“I feel like I keep doing something wrong,” he says quietly.

You stop folding.

“It’s not you,” you say. “I’m just… sorting myself out.”

“Did I hurt you?”

The question is soft. Too soft.

You finally turn.

He looks wrecked. Not physically. Emotionally. Like he hasn’t slept. Like this question has been eating at him.

And God, you want to tell him the truth. You want to say:

Yes. You hurt me just by being kind. Just by not wanting me back.

But instead, you smile gently. “No. You didn’t.”

He doesn’t believe you. But he nods.

You wish he’d argue. You wish he’d ask more.

But he just walks away.

And your heart cracks all over again.

⸻

That night, you sit on the rooftop, wrapped in a blanket, looking up at stars you can barely see through the light pollution. The air smells like oil and ozone. Your tea’s gone cold.

You hear boots behind you.

You expect Yelena.

You get Bob.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He sits beside you without asking.

“I saw you earlier,” he says. “With Bucky.”

You say nothing.

“You looked like someone punched you in the soul.”

You laugh, broken. “Accurate.”

Bob stares up at the sky. “I’m not good with… emotional stuff. Or subtlety. But I know when someone’s sad.”

You glance at him. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

You bump his shoulder with yours. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “But I’m your friend. So if he’s being dumb, I can throw him across the quad.”

You smile. “Please don’t. That would get me fired.”

He pauses. “But you’d be flattered?”

“Deeply.”

Bob grins.

You sit in silence for a while.

He breaks it gently. “He talks about you.”

You go still. “What?”

“Not like… openly. But sometimes in the gym. Or after missions. He says things like ‘She saved our asses’ or ‘I don’t know how she keeps this place running.’ And once he said you were the smartest person in the building.”

Your chest tightens.

“He likes you,” Bob says simply. “He just doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“…No,” you whisper. “He doesn’t. He’s with someone.”

Bob frowns. “Who?”

You shrug. “Nobody knows. That’s the point.”

Bob is quiet for a long time.

“I don’t think he is,” he says.

And somehow, that just makes it worse.

⸻

The next morning, Bucky shows up at your office with a busted radio unit and a bruise blooming across his jaw.

“I broke this,” he mutters.

You take it wordlessly, fingers brushing his.

Your heart beats too loud.

He doesn’t leave.

You look up. “Do you need something else?”

He opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Then shakes his head.

You watch him walk away, and you hate how much you wish he’d stayed.

⸻

Omg chapter 2. Are you guys liking it?

Taglist:

@starstruck-cowgirl

If you like to be added to the taglist just let me know 🤗

[missvelvetsstuff]

messy - bucky barnes

cw!! smut. again. creampie? a bit. cum play. overstimulation. minors dni

kind of a pt. 2 of too much i guess?? also i have like three days worth of fics just sitting in my wattpad drafts. thinking about posting lots of them 👀

his cock twitches as he pulls out, a thick, glistening strand of cum stretching between his tip and your swollen cunt.

"look at you," bucky groans, his voice rough, fingers already smearing the mess he's made of you. "so fucking filled and ruined."

you whine, your hips jerking when his thumb drags through your folds, spreading his cum like he's marking you. "bucky, it's too much—"

"nah, s'not enough." he spits, watches it mix with your cum leaking out of you, his fingers pushing it back inside, stuffing you full.

"gotta keep it all in that tight little pussy."

bucky replaces his fingers with the fat head of his cock, shoving the tip in just enough to make you gasp, more cum oozing out around him. "love how you can't even hold it in. fuck."

your thighs tremble, nails digging into the sheets as he rubs his tip, smearing it over your clit, your lips, everywhere.

"messy fucking cunt," he says, grinding against you just to hear you whine and moan. "you feel how deep i filled you up, huh?"

"y-yes—" your back arches, oversensitive and shaking, but he doesn't stop, fingers circling your clit now, slippery with the mixed fluids. "bucky, please—"

"please what?" he leans down, licking a stripe up your throat and neck. "want me to shove it all back in? make sure it stays in you for days, huh, doll?" his cock nudges at your entrance again, and you cry out when he shoves another inch inside. "you're fuckin' dripping. so fuckin' good for me."

your cunt flutters around him, trying to pull him deeper even as you squirm from the overstimulation. "can't—can't take it—"

"yeah you can," he grunts, hips jerking forward just to feel you clench, more cum spilling onto the sheets. "gonna ruin this pussy 'til you can't walk right."

his hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider as he watches his spend leak out in slow, sticky rivulets. "fuckin' perfect. fuckin' tight."

you whimper, your orgasm crashing over you again, your cunt squeezing around nothing as he pulls out completely, just to smear the last of his cum over your lips.

"there," he murmurs, pressing two fingers back inside, fucking them lazily in and out. "now you'll feel me for days."

you're a wrung-out, trembling mess beneath him, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers, and bucky groans, leaning down to kiss your lips. "mine."

[missvelvetsstuff]

Eternity

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mentions of grief, post-death loss, memories, PTSD, poetic mourning, painful devotion, love beyond death

"It’s an endless night It’s a starless sky It’s a hell that I call home…" “Why’d you have to chase the light somewhere I can’t go?” — inspired by “Eternity” by Alex Warren

----------

The apartment was too quiet now.

No hum from the heater. No off-key humming from the kitchen. No clumsy footfalls down the hallway. Just the air conditioner kicking on in intervals, and the ache that hollowed out Bucky’s chest until he felt like a breathing tomb.

He stood in the doorway like a ghost, his fingers curled against the frame, watching the morning light crawl over the kitchen tile. The same cracked tile you always said you’d fix together. The same one he stepped over now, like it might break the memory of you if he touched it wrong.

Your mug still sat on the counter. Your jacket was still on the chair.

And your laughter was still stitched into the air like a lullaby he couldn’t bear to play again.

You were everywhere.

But you were gone.

And he didn’t know how to be alive without you.

He didn’t cry when you died.

Not at first.

There had been too much blood. Too much shock. The alley had echoed with the sound of his own voice screaming your name, but the world had just… kept moving.

As if you weren’t crumpled in his arms, your pulse fading under his fingertips.

As if the moment your eyes fluttered closed wasn’t the precise second gravity shattered.

He tried to stop the bleeding. He begged you to stay. But you didn’t even speak.

You just looked at him—quiet and soft. And then the light left your eyes.

That was the moment everything inside him split down the center.

“It feels like an eternity since I had you here with me…”

He kept your toothbrush.

He didn’t know why. He just couldn’t throw it away.

He kept your hoodie too—oversized, soft, frayed at the sleeves. He’d watched you fall asleep in it a hundred times on the couch. Sometimes now, when the nights felt like they were swallowing him whole, he’d put it on and sit in your spot.

It didn’t bring you back.

But it helped him pretend for a few minutes.

Grief came in waves. And when it came, it didn’t knock.

It kicked the door down. Flooded the apartment. Drowned him in the silence you left behind.

Some days, he couldn’t get out of bed. Others, he walked for hours in the rain, as if soaking himself to the bone would bring him closer to the part of the world where you still existed.

He listened to your voicemails on loop until his phone died.

And when he changed his sheets for the first time, he clutched your pillow to his chest and sobbed into it so hard he thought his ribs might crack.

Steve came by sometimes. Left food on the counter. Knocked quietly. Never pushed.

“She’d want you to keep living,” he said once, voice gentle.

But what did that even mean?

What did living look like when your reason for doing it was buried in a coffin three blocks from the bakery you used to love?

The dreams were the worst.

Worse than the Winter Soldier flashbacks. Worse than the blood-soaked nightmares from war.

Because in these dreams, you were alive.

And god—he felt it. The weight of your head on his chest. The brush of your fingers in his hair. The way you whispered his name when you thought he was still asleep.

“I’m here,” you’d whisper.

And every time he woke up to an empty bed, he wished he hadn’t woken at all.

One morning, he collapsed.

He’d opened your closet. Found the scarf you wore on your last birthday. The one he bought you at the flea market. It still smelled like lavender. Like you.

He fell to the floor with it crushed to his chest, rocking back and forth on the hardwood, whispering your name like a prayer.

Like if he said it enough, maybe you’d walk through the door again.

Maybe you’d smile and tease him about being dramatic.

Maybe you’d laugh and kiss his cheek and say, “You didn’t think I was gone forever, did you?”

But you didn’t.

And you were.

You used to tease him about being the one scared of forever. Until he met you. Until he realized that forever was only terrifying if he had to do it without you.

You taught him how to hope again. How to sit still without shaking. How to touch with gentleness instead of fear.

He used to wake up from nightmares drenched in sweat, and you’d already be awake, hand on his chest, grounding him.

“You’re safe,” you’d whisper. “You’re home.”

But you weren’t here now.

And he wasn’t sure this place had been home since you left.

“It’s a hell that I call home.”

He tried. God, he tried to keep going.

He walked the same path you used to take to the café. Sat in your favorite park bench. Took one of those dumb pottery classes you kept insisting on.

The instructor asked if he was making the piece for someone special.

He stared at the half-shaped bowl in front of him and said quietly, “Yeah. I was.”

But nothing helped.

Because grief wasn’t a mountain to climb. It was a sea without a shore.

People told him time would heal.

That the pain would dull.

But what if he didn’t want it to dull?

What if forgetting the pain felt like forgetting you?

So he clung to it.

Wrapped himself in the ache like a second skin. Let it bleed into everything he touched. Let it be the only proof that what you had was real.

He went to your grave once.

Only once.

The stone was small. Understated. Just like you’d want.

Your name etched carefully into marble. Two dates that sat far too close together. And beneath it, a single line you once scribbled in a letter:

“To be with you in paradise… what I wouldn’t sacrifice.”

He knelt down into the wet grass, hands shaking.

“I’d give it all,” he whispered. “You hear me? I’d give everything.”

He closed his eyes, tears falling unchecked.

“My peace. My life. My whole goddamn soul.”

He pressed his forehead to the stone. “Why’d you have to chase the light somewhere I can’t go?”

That night, you came to him in a dream again.

You were sitting on the fire escape, legs swinging, eyes on the city.

“Hey, soldier,” you said, just like always.

He walked toward you. Knelt down. Reached for your hand.

“You left me.”

You smiled, something aching and soft behind your eyes.

“I didn’t want to.”

“Then why—” His throat caught. “Why didn’t you stay?”

You reached for him. Touched his chest.

“Some light,” you whispered, “isn’t meant to stay. Some is meant to guide.”

“You were my light.”

“And you still are,” you told him. “You just don’t know it yet.”

He leaned into your touch, desperate to memorize it.

“Don’t go.”

You kissed his temple.

“I’ll never really be gone.”

When he woke, he was crying again.

But this time, it felt different.

Like grief cracking open to let something else in.

Months passed.

The hoodie lost your scent.

The fridge note faded.

The world kept spinning, and he kept standing still.

But slowly—barely noticeably—something changed.

He took a deep breath one day and didn’t feel like he was drowning.

He made coffee and didn’t cry when he reached for your mug.

He saw a dog that looked like yours and smiled instead of breaking down in the street.

It wasn’t peace.

But it was something close to breathing again.

Years later, someone asked if he’d ever been in love.

He was older now. The lines on his face deeper. The sadness quieter.

“Yeah,” he said, voice distant. “Once.”

“Was it real?”

He nodded.

“Oh God… it was everything.”

Sometimes, he still talked to you.

When the nights got too long.

When the stars were too quiet.

He’d sit on the roof, hoodie still draped over his shoulders, and whisper:

“It still feels like an eternity without you.”

And every now and then, when the wind blew just right, he could swear he felt you pass through him.

Warm. Familiar.

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe it was you.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Trustfall, Prologue

Winter Soldier!Bucky x fem!Reader, 9 chapters plus prologue & epilogue. Explicit for sexual contact, which considering it’s the Winter Soldier should be considered vaguely dub!con within an established relationship. Updates will be Tuesdays & Thursdays until complete.

Summary:

Hydra attacks the Tower, fully intending to regain control of their Asset. But Bucky Barnes has a plan. Bucky Barnes has you.

A/N: Inspired by this Tumblr post by @calzone-d, but then it took a life of its own. The working title for this was “Hostage to the Winter Soldier!” (complete with exclamation point, because it’s funnier that way, and if you don’t imagine that title in one of those 1950s B-movie fonts, you’re doing it wrong), but by the time I finished writing, I had Pink’s song stuck in my head, and it’s probably a better fit.

Full notes on AO3, but please note the Trigger Warning for Dub!con above.

Prologue ~ Chapters 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ Epilogue

MCU Masterlist

“Oh come on, they’ll never hire me,” you protest, laughing. You have to shout it to be heard over the noise of the bar. “And anyway, I’m happy in the ER.”

“But it’s Avengers Tower,” groans your best friend Steph, her slightly tipsy head dropping onto the bar. “You have to—ow. Who made bars so hard? That hurt.”

You pat her shoulder. “I like the ER. It’s fast-paced, it’s exciting, I’m doing exactly what I always wanted.”

“Two words. Super. Heroes.”

“That’s one word, Steph. And come on, superheroes aren’t that interesting. They probably do their own stitches and skip their regular check-ups.”

“Is she still bothering you about the Avengers job?” asks the bartender, Chet, as he hands Steph a towel full of ice from behind the bar.

“Yes,” you groan as Steph mumbles a thank you and plops the iced towel on her head, still lying on the bar. “And it’s not an Avengers job. It’s just a job at the Tower. I probably wouldn’t even see them. I bet I’d be giving SI employees their immunizations and checking for fevers in the on-site daycare.”

“Or working with Bruce Banner?”

“There’s no guarantee of that!”

“Oh yeah? Is there a security clearance involved?���

“Well, yeah…”

“Working with Bruce Banner,” says Chet sagely. “And you know, wiping snotty noses in the daycare and chasing down superheroes for their yearly check-ups.”

“I like the ER,” you insist.

“We know you do,” says Chet. “But we like seeing you, and this is the first time you’ve been out since you got the job two years ago.”

“I miss you,” moans Steph to the bar. Well, in the direction of the bar, but presumably to you. “You’re my best friend and the only way I see you is by breaking my ankle.”

“Oh my God, Steph, tell me you didn’t do that on purpose.”

“Just apply,” says Chet. “If nothing else, it’ll give you bargaining power when your contract comes up again.”

“It does have better hours. And dental.”

“Dental,” sighs Steph longingly.

*

“I got the job!”

“What?” Steph yells back. Clearly, hunting down Steph while she’s on the dance floor was a bad idea.

“I. GOT. THE. JOB!!!”

“Oh my God!” shrieks Steph, encasing you in a huge hug. “My best friend’s gonna be an Avenger!”

You burst into laughter, glad no one else can hear you over the music. “Not an Avenger, Steph. Just a nurse working in the medical bay in the Tower. I probably won’t even see them.”

Steph holds your shoulders firmly. “You are not allowed to replace me with Black Widow.”

“As if!”

Chet gives you a free drink, as do a few others nearby who overheard the part about “new job.” Only one of them actually asks where the job is.

“Stark Industries,” you say, because it’s basically true. “Probably not as exciting as the ER was, but the hours are way better and so’s the pay and benefits.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” says the man, lifting his glass in a toast. He’s got a really pleasant accent, wire-rimmed glasses, the scar on the side of his face barely noticeable in the dim light. You’d like to keep talking to him, but Steph distracts you for a moment, and when you turn back around, he’s gone.

*

Okay, so you hadn’t really lied to Steph. You don’t see the Avengers very often, but that’s only because you don’t work nights and they only ever show up in the med bay when it’s dark outside. Or seem to, anyway.

But you’ve met just about all of them for one reason or another, and so far, every encounter has shown them to be pleasant and friendly as can be.

Until one afternoon, about six months after you started working, when you overhear two very loud, very shouty voices, in the hall outside the nurse’s station.

“I DO NOT NEED STITCHES.”

“You’re worse than Clint! Get in there!”

“Come on, Stevie, they’re gonna heal up on their own in ten minutes.”

“Not if you don’t get the broken glass out first.”

Broken glass? You immediately reach for the kit with the tweezers and a pair of nitrile gloves.

“So you do it.”

“I can’t do it, I have to go brief Hill.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Yeah. For the nurse.”

“Stevie,” groans the guy. “Is this what it all comes to? Saving me from the clutches of Hydra only to make me relive my worst nightmares? You’ve seen the nurses here, Stevie, they all look like my Uncle Maurice.”

“Not true, Buck.”

“They’re cold, heartless bitches, Stevie, the lot of them.”

“Hello,” you say cheerfully, entering the room where Captain America straddles a second man, face-down on the floor and long past fighting. “I’m the attending cold heartless bitch who looks like your Uncle Maurice, I hear you’ve got some glass embedded somewhere?”

“A plate glass window attacked him,” Captain America tells you. “It was brutal.”

“You should’ve seen the window,” grumbles the man to the floor.

“I’ll be sure to send a sympathy card,” you say, setting up your tools on the tray table. “I can do this on the floor, but it’d probably be more sanitary up here.”

“Right,” says Captain America, and he gets off the floor.

The man immediately makes a break for it.

“Nope,” you say, and grab one of the conveniently-placed straps on his leather coat. He spins and stares at you in shock.

He’s cute, you think, or would be if it weren’t for the gaping wound in his forehead. It sparkles, though that’s probably the glass catching in the light.

“So that’s what the straps are for,” says Captain America, impressed, right before he grabs the guy by the ear and hauls him up on the examining table.

“OW.” The man glares at Captain America, who doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. Even though that glare’s probably the scariest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Hold still,” you tell the glare, and start removing the glass from his forehead.

It’s a nasty wound, too. You work as fast as you can, fully aware of how the man you’re treating is—despite all outward appearances—scared to death.

Not that he’d admit it, or even realize you know it. But you worked in an ER for a while. You’ve seen everything, from spaced-out junkies to suicidal octogenarians to homeless vets.

You know which this guy is most like. The way he’s not shaking or trembling, the way he’s so tense and unable to breathe. Not just not breathing, but actually, physically, unable to take a breath because he’s working so hard to keep from screaming.

“The only way out is through,” you murmur as you pull another shard of glass from his forehead.

“Hmm?” asks Captain America, but the guy watches you: wary, assessing every move, even as you telegraph them as plainly as you can.

Calm, almost, despite the now-shallow breaths.

“Nothing,” you say. “One more piece.”

You pull it out, cleaning the area again. “Now, unless I miss my guess, you’re both thinking he’s going to self-heal fairly quickly?”

“By suppertime, probably.”

You nod. “I’d still recommend a steri-stitch or two. Just to keep it clean until the healing’s done. You don’t have to return to remove them, either.”

“Perfect,” says Captain America gratefully, and after a few more minutes, they’re both gone.

But the next morning, when you come in, there’s a bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter with your name on it, and a note written in perfect copperplate handwriting.

I’m sorry I said you looked like Uncle Maurice. You’re much prettier. –JBB

The smile on your face is so big, it stays the rest of the day.

to be continued...

[missvelvetsstuff]

Bucky Barnes + meet ugly + florist AU 🩵

Say it with Flowers

Em, I didn't know I needed florist!Bucky in my life - or how much fun it was to write a meet ugly! Thank you so much! 💕

Florist AU!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none, just some petty arguing and fluff

Word Count: 554

Masterlist

The bell above the flower shop door slammed against the frame as you shoved it open.

"Hey! Which one of you idiots thinks it’s funny to tell my mother to get a divorce?!"

Bucky looked up from trimming roses, scowling immediately. "Jesus, lady, you trying to bust the door off its hinges? Calm down."

"Calm down?!” You rounded on him furiously, “my mother is in tears because someone here thought it was hilarious to write 'Congrats on the divorce, enjoy your freedom!' on the card I got her for her retirement!"

"Look, I don’t know what kind of keyboard-mashing you did online, but that’s not my fault."

You stared at him, jaw dropped. "Excuse me?! I didn’t screw it up, you did! Are you always this incompetent, or did you make a special effort today?"

"Wow," Bucky snorted, tossing his clippers down. "You come in here like a hurricane and think you can talk to me like that? Maybe if you’d double-checked your order, you wouldn’t be yelling at people who are actually working."

"Oh, please," you shot back. "Working? It’s floristry not a nuclear bomb!"

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, wiping his hands on his apron.

Finally pausing for breath, you actually looked at him and immediately regretted it.

Your face flushed hot. You were half sure you might actually explode.

He was impossibly handsome, and judging by the smirk on his face and your fury that had suddenly fizzled and turned to fluster, he knew it.

"You know what?” You wound up again, refusing to let him distract you, “I should have gone to that chain florist. At least they don’t employ jackasses with attitude problems!"

"Yeah, good luck with that," he sneered. "Why don’t you storm in there and ruin their day?"

You opened your mouth to spit out another retort, but he shoved a form at you instead.

"Here. Write down exactly what you want this time. I’ll fix it. But you better believe I’m putting a service fee on this time."

Your hand trembled as you snatched the pen. "I cannot believe this. You are the worst."

"Trust me, doll," he said with a vicious smirk, leaning on the counter. "I’ve been called worse by scarier people than you."

With one eye on the form, you pulled out your phone with the intention of finding out who was really at fault. At the same time, you could see him opening the order log on the laptop that sat on the counter next to him.

“I didn’t mention it was a retirement bouquet,” you muttered just as he sighed,

“Huh. I might’ve taken the “enjoy your freedom” a step too far.”

“I probably should’ve been more specific.” You admitted eyes dropping to the incomplete form.

“And I should’ve called to confirm,” he concurred, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

You didn’t catch the rest - too busy getting distracted by the taut muscle of his bicep.

He caught your gaze, and a slow, infuriatingly smug grin spread across his face.

“How about I take you to dinner to make up for it? You can yell at me over pasta instead of roses.”

You tried to summon another insult, but the words died on your tongue - and he looked far too pleased to see you lost for words.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Good Press (1)

Bucky Barnes & F!Reader

Written for Week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer: "Put this on."

Warnings: 18+, language, pre-Thunderbolts*, no use of Y/N, slow burn/eventual relationship

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: got struck with this little nugget of an idea and figured i would use the next few weeks of Hot Bucky Summer to play it all out. Bucky on the campaign trail must've been a trip 😂

It didn’t take him long to start thinking that maybe this plan wasn’t very well thought through. They had an assistant bring him a suit, which right off the bat left him feeling uncomfortable. The person wasn’t even his assistant, just someone else’s that had been farmed out to do Bucky’s bidding for the time being until they found him his own. He didn't like the idea of that either. Also, what was wrong with the suit he’d gone and found for himself? 

The kid, who looked like he was barely old enough to drive let alone have a full grasp of who he was dropping the suit off to, stood there wringing his hands after Bucky had taken the sleek black garment bag from him. His eyes were wide, and Bucky could spot the little beads of sweat popping up along the edge of his forehead. Standing there in silence much longer would start making the kid’s collar turn a darker shade of blue from the sweat, Bucky had no doubt. 

Lifting the bag a little higher so that it wasn’t hitting the floor, Bucky asked, “What’s your name anyway?” 

He coughed as he tried to clear his throat. “John-Johnny. John. Um.” 

Bucky lifted his eyebrows slightly, doing his best not to find amusement in the kid’s nerves. “John or Johnny?” 

His face was turning red and he couldn’t look at Bucky as he forced out his answer. “Johnny.” 

Bucky nodded. “Johnny.” He gestured vaguely with the garment bag. “Do you need to be here to watch me put this on, Johnny? Or were you just the drop-off guy?” 

His face went from red to almost sickly white at Bucky’s question. He shook his head. “No. No I don’t. Sor-sorry. Shit. I’m just, I'm gonna...” he started to backpedal and Bucky did him the favor of not trying to stop him. 

“Thanks!” Bucky called after him. “And next time tell them I can pick out my own clothes!” 

When the door clattered shut, Bucky almost felt a little bad. He was probably a good kid, if not woefully unprepared for what he was walking into. As he stared at the garment bag, Bucky had a feeling that was actually one thing that he and Johnny had in common. Not that he’d ever see him again to be able to tell him as much.  

Walking into the bedroom section of the rather lavish hotel they’d put him up in, Bucky tossed the bag onto the bed. He stood there and stared for a moment, hands on his hips. This was a far cry from all the places he’d been up until now. He wasn’t hiding out in a tiny apartment trying to piece his memory back together while flying under the radar. He wasn’t on a tranquil farm in Wakanda in the kind of solitude some people could only dream of. But at least he wasn’t hidden away in some lab, strapped down to a table or a chair or whatever they could find to try and contain him. So there was that. He had to admit though, as he reached and pulled the zipper on the bag, he still felt lost. No matter where he was, there was still that lingering sense of not having things quite figured out. He had yet to find all the pieces to the puzzle—he wondered if he ever would. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but the shirt, pants, and jacket all fit like a glove. Even the suits he’d gotten for himself didn’t fit so nicely. He should’ve been grateful. The suit, the room, the Johnny. He should’ve probably left a little bit of room in his thoughts for gratitude. Maybe he’d get around to feeling that eventually. For the moment he was having a bit of a hard time recognizing himself. The suit felt a bit like a costume. For a moment the whole thing had him thinking of Steve. His Steve. The one who didn’t want to be the ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan’, who just wanted to stop the bad guys. They didn’t talk as much about it back then as they maybe should have, too much going on in a warzone to get into things like that. But now that he was staring in the mirror and struggling to reconcile who he was with who he was looking at, he wished that they’d made the time. 

As he was adjusting his tie into place, there was a knock at the door. He let out a deep sigh, head dropping back. He shut his eyes for a moment, not tight, just enough to block everything out for a moment so he could collect himself.  

Walking towards the door to his room, he felt for the first time just how stiff the shoes they’d gotten him were. That was another reason he didn’t want people picking out his clothes—everything he owned was already broken in. So what if they were a little scuffed up? Who was going to be looking at his feet, anyway? 

“I told you I know how to put on a suit.” His next sentence died on the tip of his tongue when he pulled the door open and saw that it was not Johnny standing on the other side. 

You laughed, arms crossed over your chest. “Well, I'm very happy to hear that, Mr. Barnes.” 

The annoyance on his face worked itself into confusion as you both stood on opposite sides of the threshold. “You’re not Johnny,” he said as he looked you over. 

You shook your head, earrings making the lightest clinking sound as you did. “No I'm not.” 

“I don’t need an assistant.” 

You laughed. “Johnny’s not your assistant—he's mine.” 

“Yeah, well—” 

“And I'm sure,” you cut him off, “it doesn’t seem like you need an assistant right now. Because, you know, you’re not doing a hell of a lot. But one day soon, god willing, you will actually have things to do and stay busy with. And if that happens, when,” you corrected yourself, “it will be nice to have someone around to do things for you like pick up your suits and keep your schedule in order.” 

The skepticism wasn’t fading from his face. “So you’re...” 

“Also not your assistant. But since you scared Johnny, I figured I would come and see how bad it was.” You made a big show of looking him up and down. “Were you this warm and welcoming to Johnny when he was here earlier?” 

“I can get my own suits.” 

You sighed. “Right. So that’s a yes. Lovely.” You untucked your arms so you could gesture to the expanse of room behind him. “Can I come in?” 

“Who are you?” 

The look on his face made it clear that you probably shouldn’t have been smiling, but it didn’t stop you. “Your own personal miracle worker and damage control agent.” When his unamused expression didn’t change, you rolled your eyes. “I’m the head of your PR department. All the front-facing events you’re showing up to, your online presence, that all rests on my back and the people on my team.” 

He shook his head, confusion intensifying once more. “Online pres—” 

“It’ll be easier to explain if you let me in to talk.” 

He didn’t pretend to be enthused about it as he stepped out of the way to let you in, and you didn’t pretend that he had any other choice but to let you pass him by. Neither of you said anything for a moment as he shut and latched the door behind you. You took advantage of the split-second opportunity to look around the room. 

They’d set him up nicely, which was more than you could say for other candidates in his position. You couldn’t help but to notice the fact that despite how nice the room was, his beat-up rolling suitcase and tattered backpack were still resting beside the sofa. The suitcase was open but it wasn’t fully unpacked—he'd clearly just been taking out what he needed as he needed it. The sight confirmed the need to send him a fresh suit. 

Bucky didn’t sit, nor did he invite you to. It wasn’t surprising. Knowing you were already pushing your luck with him, you didn’t sprawl on the chair that was just a few feet away. Instead, you walked a little deeper into the room, your heels not clicking quite as loudly on the thin carpeting. The bag that you’d been holding in the crook of your arm, the one that held everything you needed to try and do as much damage control as possible for the man in front of you, landed on top of the coffee table with an audible thud. 

“There’s no damage to control,” Bucky said, finally breaking the silence filling the three feet that separated you. 

You chuckled. “You don’t think so?” 

He held his hands out, like he was inviting you to search him for some kind of dirt someone could try and use against him. “I’ve been cleared. Pardoned. Whatever else.” 

“I mean, yeah, technically.” 

“Technically?” 

“In the eyes of the law, sure. You’ve been pardoned. The eyes of the public, though?” You shook your head. “Believe it or not, there are a lot of people out there who don’t want a war criminal to have a seat in Congress.” 

Tension rippled throughout his entire body, hands clenching into fists. His shoulders snapped back, his defensiveness undeniable even before he opened his mouth. “I’m not a war criminal. All that stuff that happened, that wasn’t—” 

“I know that,” you said, stopping him before he could get himself too riled up. “Believe me, Mr. Barnes, I’m on your side. The ancient history that’s not so ancient, I know, okay?” You watched as his fists slowly unclenched. “But I’m not the one you have to convince. Some of the people out there are going to be a much tougher sell.” 

He huffed and shook his head. “Jesus.” 

“He can’t help you like I can right now, alright?” you joked. 

Bucky’s face didn't spell out amusement, but he didn’t seem to be more pissed off. So you’d settle for that. “From the sounds of it, you’re not going to be able to help me much either.” 

“I love a longshot. That’s why your campaign manager hired me.” 

You couldn’t get a good read on his face as he said, “Right.” 

It seemed like he might have something more to say, so you let the pause linger. When he remained silent, you picked up the conversation. “Are you going to fight me on everything? Or, you know, scare away any other staff I send your way to help you?” When he still didn’t say anything, you had to laugh. “Thanks for not lying to me at least.” You took a deep breath and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m ready for an uphill battle, Mr. Barnes—that's what they pay me for. But my life isn’t the only one that gets easier when you decide to stop doing that.” 

You allowed him to gnaw on that information for a minute. Turning, you opened up your bag and began digging through for the folder that he was going to need for the Q&A that was rapidly approaching. While there might be a few questions that came out of left field, you knew what most of them were going to be for these first few outings. You had scripts written out for a majority of the most likely possibilities.  

Flipping the folder open, you thumbed through the pages inside to make sure that everything was there. You didn’t expect him to stand up there and read verbatim off the cards, but you were hoping that he would take the time between now and showtime to review it, do his best to remember the bulk so that when a question hit the air he didn’t have to fly completely off the cuff. 

He was staring at you, brows knit tightly when you turned back around. You didn’t let his scrutinizing stare shake you. Instead, you held out the folder for him to take. “Some light but helpful reading material for this evening.” 

“A script?” he asked as he looked through the pages. 

You shrugged. “More like prompts.” 

He scoffed. “Right.” 

“It’s better than flying in blind.” 

He snapped the folder shut and shoved it underneath his arm. “Everything that I’ve had to go through, I don’t think that flying blind into a Q&A with some reporters is going to do me in.” 

A lot of your relationship was just going to be you laughing at things that he said with no intention of being funny. You’d enjoy it at least. “Yeah, okay. Maybe it won’t ‘do you in’,” you put air quotes around the words in case your sarcasm wasn’t laid on thick enough, “the way you’re thinking. You’ll survive, sure. But you’re not that guy anymore, or so you say. This isn’t life or death. This is a campaign. A lot more grey areas and a lot more things that are going to make you roll your eyes.” 

“Yeah, I’m seeing that now,” he deadpanned as he stared at you. 

You pointed to the folder. “Read the damn prompts.” 

He sighed, not agreeing or disagreeing to follow that particular instruction. He made a small motion with his hand that wasn’t keeping the folder in place. “Anything else?” 

You looked him up and down. “Suit’s alright?” 

“It’s unnecessary.” 

All the oxygen was going to be gone from the room at the rate the two of you were huffing and sighing at each other. “Does it fit okay?” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s all I needed—” 

“I wanna wear my own shoes.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “No.” 

“Why n—” 

“No amount of polish will make them presentable for live television, that’s why.” 

You walked around him, surveying him like a curator checking out a new piece for a museum. He turned with you at first, not wanting to have his back to you. After a few halted steps and a sharp look from you, though, he finally understood what you were doing and kept himself still. 

Your steps around had landed you closer to him. As you stood in front of him, you made a small adjustment to his tie. It was then that you noticed something missing from his get-up, a small but important detail. Stepping back, you looked around the living room to see if he just hadn’t gotten around to putting it on by the time you showed up. 

When you didn’t see it anywhere, you asked, “Where’s the bag this came in?” 

He nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “It’s in the—hey!” He quickly walked after you as you started towards his room. “You can’t just—” 

You waved him off. “Oh calm down, I’m not here to dig through your underwear drawer.” 

Once you were standing in front of his bed, you quickly scanned over the mattress and the floor by your feet. Not finding what you were looking for, you moved onto the garment bag. You undid the zipper all the way to the bottom and patted around until you found what you were looking for. When you turned back around to Bucky, who was still looking just as annoyed as he did the second he opened up the door to his hotel room, you had a tiny drawstring pouch in your hand. You pulled at the opening before waving for Bucky to step in closer. 

It was evident that he didn’t want to, but out of all the things he was going to have the chance to fight you on in the coming weeks, he must have decided that this wasn’t quite worth it. Stepping in, he focused on your hands instead of your face as you reached into the tiny satin pouch. 

You held up the tiny American flag shaped pin for him to see. A small turn of your hand had it so that it was laying in your palm for him to take. “Put this on.” 

His lips curled down slightly from the straight line that they were in. Just enough of a shift to show that he thought it was a silly thing for you to notice and feel the need to rectify. Once you realized that he wasn’t going to do it, you pulled the pin from its backing with a quick flick of your wrist. 

He didn’t pull away from you as you reached for his lapel, but you were willing to bet his annoyance was written all over his face. You got the pin situated, and smoothed out his suit before stepping back again. 

“It’s the kind of thing people will notice,” you said when the expression on his face didn’t change. 

He turned away from you, and you thought he was doing it just because he was sick of you until you realized that he was now facing the full-length mirror in his room. He tugged at his jacket, smoothing it out over his chest. He frowned as he stared at his reflection. 

His eyes zeroed in on the flag in the reflection. “Monkey on a unicycle,” he muttered. 

Your face scrunched as you tried to make out what it was that he said. “What’s that?” 

He shook his head as he turned and faced you again. “Nothing.” 

Not that you believed him, but you also knew that he wasn’t going to be telling you all of his innermost thoughts and feelings at this point. For the foreseeable future you figured you would be lucky to get more than one or two sentences out of him at a time. It was a new problem to encounter in your particular line of work. Usually you couldn’t get people to shut their mouths and that was what got them into trouble. Very few things about Bucky’s situation weren’t unique in some way. 

“Right, well,” you started to walk back towards the living room area of the room, hearing Bucky’s footsteps following close behind, “if you’d like to run through some of the probable questions and answers, I've cleared my afternoon and evening for it.” 

He opened the folder again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see your hand resting on the handle to the bag you’d brought with you. You were ready for him to say no and send you away—he didn’t blame you for that. As he skimmed over the questions, he couldn’t help but to shake his head. There was no point in proving your assumption wrong, so he closed the folder before looking at you. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Rolling your eyes was never the professional response to anything, but something told you that dealing with Bucky was going to have both of you skirting the limits of professionalism, really stretching the definition of the word.  

Positioning your bag in the crook of your arm once more, you said, “Famous last words, Mr. Barnes.” 

He cocked one eyebrow. “Is that what you’re always going to call me?” 

You shrugged. “Until I can honestly call you Congressman Barnes, yes.” Pausing, you smiled. “Not a fan?” 

The gesture he made with the folder in his hand was a flippant one. “Does it matter?” 

You laughed, more honesty in the sound than there had been lately. “Not particularly.” 

The huff he let out almost sounded like something akin to a weary chuckle. It was more than you’d gotten out of him so far, so you’d take it. Maybe he’d come around, warm up to you a little. If he didn’t, it was no skin off your back. He'd be far from the first person you worked for that didn’t care much for you. Fortunately for all parties involved it didn’t stop you from being good at your job. If he gave all of this, if he gave you, a little bit of time, he’d see that. 

After another few seconds of silence, you decided to see yourself out. You found it interesting, the way that he clearly didn’t want to spend any amount of quality time with you, but he also wasn’t dismissing you.  

“If you change your mind,” you told him as you stepped towards the door, “or if you have any other questions, feel free to give me a call.” 

“I don’t have—” 

“Card’s in the folder too.” 

“Of course it is.” 

A quiet thunk let followed you flipping the lock on the door. When you landed yourself in the hallway you said, “If I don’t hear from you before, I'll see you tonight. Car gets here at six.” 

“And you’ll be in it, I’m assuming?” 

You cracked a grin. “Smart man.” You turned on your heel and began walking away. “We might still be able to do something yet!” 

He didn’t give you a response—it didn’t seem like you cared for one anyway. He waited until he heard the dinging sound of the elevator arriving to take you before he shut and locked the door. 

As much as he wanted to throw the folder in the trash, to take off the suit, and toss his shoes out the window out onto the street, he fought the urge to do it all. He’d done harder things before, far worse things. He could suck it up and get through this. With a deep sigh, he went and sat down on the sofa and opened the folder that you’d given him. The impeccably typed and spaced letters mocked him, but he read on anyway. There was no backing out now. 

(divider by @silkholland )

Marvel Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added!): @late-to-the-party-81 @garbinge @artemiseamoon @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnesevents

ps i didn’t include folks who specifically had been asking to be tagged in my invisible silver liningsfic, but if you’re on that and also wanna be on my general mcu taglist please tell me! xo

[missvelvetsstuff]

Wildflower

Chapter 10: Flake Plastic Trees

masterlist

I do not have a tag list. to get notified for fic updates, please follow @notify-superbassbuck and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Single dad!Farmer!Bucky Barnes x Florist!reader

Mentions: 18+, enemies to lovers, slow burn, sexual tension, angst and hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, sex, f!reader, small town, mutual pining, daddy kink

Word Count: 4.0k

gif by unearthlydust || dividers by strangergraphics-archive

James,

I’m done waiting around. I know you think you’re doing the right by keeping Jamie tied to that rundown farm, but you and I both know he deserves better. 

I still own half of that land, don’t forget that. If Jamie doesn’t come to live with me and attend college here in the city, I will sell my share, and you and I both know how that will end. 

I’m tired of watching you waste his future in those fields, surrounded by terrible people with terrible influences. He deserves a good college and real opportunities. I’ve seen the way he looks at me and texts me, I know how much he misses me, and I hate that we’ve been apart for so long. I hate that you keep him hidden away from me on that farm like some workhouse. He’s always been bigger than that place, and he deserves to see more and be more. 

Please tell him to come stay with me. I can help him get into a good college, I’ll help him get settled. I’ll make us a home, a home that me and him always talked about. He doesn’t belong in those fields forever. I want what’s best for him, even if you won’t admit it, James. 

Don’t make me do something drastic. I’d hate to make you lose the farm completely, but I can’t stand by and watch his life get wasted away there. 

If you can’t do this for me, then please do this for Jamie.

— Talia 

You and Bucky both watched as Jamie hurried out the door, ears still pink from whatever father-son secret had just passed between them while you were outside.

“What’d you two say about me?” you ask curiously, lifting your head to meet Bucky’s soft blue gaze and the stubble brushing his jaw.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled with a soft smile as he snaked an arm around your shoulders, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your arm. “Who says we were talking about you, sweetheart?” he teased.

You leaned into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “You two are terrible liars, you know that? It’s obvious you were talking about me.” 

Bucky chuckled under his breath and squeezed you closer. “And why do you want to know so bad, hm?” 

You nudged him lightly in the chest with a playful scowl.  “Two boys that are never up to any good are talking about me. Why would I not want to know?” 

He lets out another chuckle, shaking his head as he holds you snug against him, enjoying your warmth against his skin. When you realize he’s not answering you, you pull away just slightly and look him in the eye. “C'monn,” you whine. “Tell me!” 

Bucky’s gaze softens as he looks at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He gives in, brushing a strand of hair off your face. “Alright, alright. He asked if we were serious, and I said yes. He told me he was happy for me,” he explains softly, his fingertips fiddling with the ends of your hair. 

Your heart melts at Bucky’s words. You’ve always secretly wanted to get on Jamie’s good side ever since you started warming up to him—and especially now that you’re in a relationship with his father. And although he didn’t say it outloud, you feel proud knowing that he’s at least happy.

“So, he likes me?” 

Bucky arched a brow at you like the answer was already obvious. “Like you? How could anyone not like you?” 

“Please,” you drag the word out. “You didn’t even like me at first.” 

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah? And you didn’t like me, either. Getting all worked up over nothing.” 

You gasped dramatically and gave his shoulder a shove. “You rear-ended me, Bucky! That’s not nothing!”

He throws his head back and lets out a laugh, his hands coming to rest on your back and gently grazes his fingertips against you. “God, I remember seeing your face turn bright red after I called you a good girl. Your cute little reaction made everything worth it.” 

You gave him a playful glare but couldn’t stop the grin forming at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously—” you tugged gently at the hem of his shirt for emphasis. “Is he really okay with it? With me being here… with you?”

Bucky watches you amused as you try to hide the embarrassing flush on your face. “He is,” he reassures you, his hands moving to cup your cheek. “He never really opens up to anyone. So if he’s open with you, that’s his way of showing he cares.” 

You smile softly. “You two are pretty bad with words. “

He chuckles before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “No. But our actions say a lot, don’t they?” 

You lean into him, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Yeah, I guess you’re right—” 

The front door swung open and you and Bucky both turned to see Jamie standing there, head down, shoulders tense, and brows furrowed together and looking rather distraught. In one hand, he held a stack of bills and envelopes, but in the other, his fingers were clenched around a single sheet of paper, crumpled slightly from how tightly he was gripping it. His blue eyes kept scanning it, over and over.

“Hey,” Bucky called out casually, glancing back over his shoulder with a raised finger in greeting. “Just drop the mail on the table, I’ll sort through it later—”

“Dad,” Jamie interrupts him sharply, his eyes finally lifting from the page. “What the hell is this?” he flipped the paper around, holding it out.

Bucky furrows his brows, confusion etching on his face as he starts to stand up. “Watch your language, son—”

You sat up straight, frowning. “Jamie? Is everything okay?”

But he doesn’t respond. He didn’t even look at you. He brushes right past where you sat and stopped in front of Bucky, thrusting the letter forward with a rough shove that made the paper crinkle in his grip.

Bucky took the paper from Jamie’s hand hesitantly, glancing at him with worry etched into every wrinkle on his face. He looks down at the paper, only barely managing to skim through it before Jamie begins talking. 

“All this time…” Jamie began, his voice trembling with anger. “All this time Mom still owns part of the farm? But she never came out here, she never visited, not once… and you—” he let out a sharp, humorless laugh and shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “You kept me here. You kept me stuck here while she—she wanted me in the city?” 

“Stuck…?” Bucky repeated, voice rough and quiet, eyes widening and frozen as if he just had the wind knocked out of him.

“She wanted me, Dad! You knew how bad I wanted her to want me—and you just—” his voice cracked, eyes glistening, but he swallowed it down with a shake of his head. “You kept me here, trapped. Away from my potential.” 

Stuck. 

Trapped. 

Away from my potential.

You could tell that those words alone struck a nerve in him. His hand trembled around the letter, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. You didn’t know what was in that letter, but it was obviously a threat from his mother. Jamie was angry, clearly. And Bucky didn’t know how to handle it. 

“Jamie,” you stepped forward, trying to help, “honey, listen. It’s not that simple—” 

His head snapped toward you so fast it made your heart jump. His shoulders were shaking with the effort to hold himself together, but it wasn't working. 

“You knew ?” his voice broke. “You knew about this and you didn’t think I deserved to know?”

You winced, heart aching for him. You reached out instinctively. “Jamie, please—honey, it wasn’t my place—”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouted, flinching back from your hand before you even got the chance to touch him. “Stop talking to me like you’re my mom. You’re not. And I don’t want you to be.”

You recoil, dropping your hand slowly at your sides. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. You understood his pain, understood where he’s coming from. But that didn’t make the pain of his words hurt any less. 

Bucky’s head snapped up, his earlier shock turning into protectiveness as he stepped forward, keeping his voice firm. “Jamie, don’t you ever talk to her like that—”

“Stop defending her!” Jamie shot back, his voice cracking. “You never defended Mom like this. You never even tried. And now this woman shows up, and you’re acting like you’d do anything for her, but you wouldn’t even try to get along with Mom? For my sake?” 

This woman, Jamie spat out like you weren’t even in the same room. The silence that follows is suffocating. Jamie is clearly waiting for an answer, but that answer never comes. 

“You really don’t have anything to say?” he snaps, voice filled with disbelief. He lets out a sharp scoff and shakes his head, finally tearing his eyes off you like he can’t stand to look at you anymore. “Of course. I should’ve known. I was stupid to think you’d ever put me first. Instead you’re too busy chasing after someone who never belonged here to begin with.”

“Son! that’s enough—”

He doesn’t wait for a response anymore. He spins on his heel and storms up the stairs, footsteps pounding until a door slams so hard it rattles the walls.

Bucky shrinks back on himself, his shoulders slump and he keeps his eyes down on the floor. He was torn between protecting his son and defending the woman he loved. And as much as you wished you could stay and try to help, you knew that it wasn’t your place to be here. 

You knew you couldn’t be what either of them needs right now.

Bucky should never be in a position where he has to choose. Not between you and Jamie. Never.

He lets out a shaky breath, turning towards you. Without saying a single word, he hands you the crumpled letter. You take it from him, your hands trembling as you scan through the page. It was worse than you thought. Talia was dangling the farm, Jamie, and using every word like bait on a hook. 

You can’t help but feel like the little outburst you did at Jamie’s birthday party was the cherry on top—what made everything fall apart like this. 

When you look up, Bucky’s staring at the stairs, at the closed door that now feels like it’s miles away. You can see it written all over him, he wants to so badly fix this. He wants to run to Jamie. 

But he’s frozen, still stuck here with you.

So you force yourself to smile, blinking back the tears in your eyes. You set the letter on the table and reach for his hand, giving it one last squeeze. “Go,” you say softly, voice cracking despite your best effort to hold it steady. “He needs you more than I do. He needs his dad.”

Bucky hesitates. He opens his mouth, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but you shake your head before he can say it.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Just… be there for him. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

You can see Bucky’s shoulders relax just slightly before he runs a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he lets out a shaky breath then turns and heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time to reunite with his son.

When he disappears around the corner, you stand there for a moment. You take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help the knot in your chest. Blinking back the tears, you gather your things quietly and slip out the door without another word. 

“Son,” Bucky knocks on Jamie’s door gently, waiting for a response. “Can I come in?” 

There was no response. Not even a shuffle from the other side. Part of Bucky wants to respect Jamie’s space. God knows he probably needs it, but another part knows leaving him alone now would only let those angry thoughts eat him alive

He knows he’s never been good at this, at being gentle, at knowing the right words. But he has to try. 

For Jamie, he has to.

He waits a few more seconds, hoping for any sign of an answer. When none comes, he sighs, grips the doorknob, and cracks the door open. “I’m coming in, Jamie.”

He opens it slightly, just enough to see his son curled up under the covers with his headphones over his ears, back turned to the door. The way Jamie’s shoulders tense tells Bucky he knows he’s there. Even if he can’t hear him, he can feel his presence. But still, he doesn’t turn around.

Bucky drags a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as he sits on the edge of the bed. He tries to find the right words… or any word, really.

“Jamie—” 

“Go away,” Jamie snaps, his voice muffled by the blanket, not bothering to look back or pull off the headphones.

“No. I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says quietly. “We need to talk, son.”

Jamie scoffed. “You? You wanna talk?” he pulls the blanket cover closer to his face, shielding himself. “You don’t know how to talk to me, Dad. You never did. What makes you think you can figure it out now?”

Bucky’s frown deepens, looking down at the floor and letting out a shaky breath. Bucky can handle a lot of things, but what he can’t handle is hearing the very words that are leaving his son’s mouth. As much as it pains him, he knows he’s right. Seventeen years of being a father and yet he still feels like he’s learning how to hold his own son’s heart without crushing it.

“Jamie…” Bucky tries again, his voice low and shaky. “I know I’m not good at this. I know I don’t say things right. I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to—”

“That’s not true,” Jamie cuts in, his voice cracking slightly. “Don’t lie. You do know how. I see it in the way you look at her, the way you talk about her.” 

Bucky stiffens, his heart clenching in his chest. Shit. Was that really the case? All along, he thought he was showing “love” in the way they always bantered, the back-and-forth lectures, and the constant teasing. And in turn, Jamie always laughed or teased him back just as hard, or maybe even more. 

That was their thing. It always has been. But now, hearing it said out loud… he wonders if maybe he was wrong all along.

“It hurts, you know?” Jamie added, sounding smaller and broken. “It hurts watching you love someone else so easily. I thought maybe that was just you… hard love, tough love. But she shows up, becomes your girlfriend, and suddenly you know how to say the right things. You knew how. You just didn’t do it for me.” 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. The realization of how deeply he failed Jamie sits heavy in his chest. He can’t help but wonder—what if he’d just let Jamie go to his mother? What if Jamie had grown up in a city apartment, gone to a good school, made a life there instead of wasting his days sweating under the sun on this worn-out farm? Would he have been happier? Did he cost his son a better life just because he couldn’t stand to let him go?

What if Talia could’ve given Jamie the kind of love Bucky couldn’t figure out how to show all along? The thought cuts deep, and it hurts so fucking bad. But so does the idea of giving up his boy. His little boy. 

No. He’d never wanted to lose Jamie. He needed him here. He had friends, a girlfriend. He had Uncle Steve and Sam, a whole bunch of family friends. 

He had you. 

“I’m so damn sorry, Jamie,” Bucky’s voice breaks, his shoulders trembling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the father you deserved. I swear to you, I swear it, I’m gonna make this right. You’re my priority now. It’s always been you and me, kid. I should’ve remembered that. I should’ve shown you that. I was selfish. And I’m sorry.”

Jamie doesn’t move. 

Bucky leans forward, looking at his son with a pained expression, pouring out every single word and sentence that comes to his mind. It’s all a scrambled, scary, and desperate mess, but he needed to do something—say anything to keep him.

“If you really wanna go to the city, for college, for your mom—fine. I’ll make it happen. But live with me when you’re not at school, okay? We’ll figure it out, just… come home to me when you can. I promise it’ll be different. No more distractions. Just us again, Jamie. Like it should’ve been.”

Jamie stiffens for a moment, turning his head slightly so that his eyes peek out of the blankets, finally meeting his dad’s gaze. He furrows his brows, like he’s unsure if this is what he wants to hear from his dad. Because by saying “no more distractions,” that means… 

But Bucky only sees his son finally looking at him, believing he’s finally saying the right thing—fixing it, somehow.

“Dad… I don’t—” 

“You don’t have to say anything, Jamie,” Bucky interrupts immediately, shaking his head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say a word.” 

Three days had passed since you had last seen Jamie or Bucky. You had texted Jamie to tell him it was okay if he didn’t feel up to coming into work. He was always welcomed back whenever he was ready. 

He never responded.

You’d sent Bucky message after message, checking in, asking if they needed anything, telling him not to worry about finishing the work on your house—there wasn’t much left anyway, just your bedroom and the porch that still needed some painting. 

He never responded to you either. 

You’ve thought about showing up to their house to check on them, maybe bringing in take out and lounge on the living room couch again like you guys used to, but you didn’t want to overstep. And as you worked in the flower shop by yourself, you can’t help the dreadful feeling seeping inside your chest. You couldn't believe that just a few days ago, all the three of you were here, playing around like... 

Like a family.

Even though it had only been a few days, you caught yourself putting Jamie’s playlist on repeat through the shop’s speaker, needing the sound of him there somehow in the background. As you trimmed stems and swept petals off the floor, your mind kept drifting back to Talia’s letter.

You didn’t know her well, but after how she treated Jamie at his birthday, and how she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, it was impossible to believe she really wanted him with her. What did she mean when she wrote, “I hate that you keep him hidden away from me” ?

Everyone in this town knew she never once bothered to come see him. That letter wasn’t love, it was manipulation. 

The only honest thing in it was her threat to sell the farm.

You hated all of this. Hated imagining Bucky and Jamie stuck in that rustic house, quiet and miserable, trying to figure everything out by themselves. Jamie’s words the other day had stung like salt in an open wound, but they weren’t enough to make you stop caring or push you away. You still loved them, both of them, like you were already family. 

Even if Jamie… couldn’t stand the idea right now. 

So after closing the shop for the day, you grabbed a pizza and headed for their place anyway. You sent Bucky a text to say you were coming by, but just as you expected, he didn’t respond.

You showed up at their front doorsteps with the pizza box warm in your hands. The house was unusually quiet. Every other time you had come by, it was always alive with noise. Bucky’s voice, Jamie’s laughter, the sounds of music or TV in the background. Now there was nothing but silence. And that didn’t help the nervous feeling in your chest. 

You knocked a few times, but no one answered. You were just about to turn back toward your car when you caught the faintest move, a curtain in the front window shifting, then falling still again.

“Jamie? Is that you?” you called out, the pizza held tight in your grip. You knock again when there’s no response. “Bucky? Come on, I know someone’s home,” you added, trying to keep your voice light, hoping to manage a smile out of whoever was listening.

After a few seconds, the door creaked open just a crack. Bucky’s face appeared in the gap. He looked worn down. His shoulders were slumped, eyes dark with exhaustion. He didn’t open the door any wider to let you in, standing right in the gap. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” you ask with a frown. “I sent you texts… you didn’t reply to any of them.” 

Bucky exhales slowly, his eyes gazing past your shoulder like he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I know,” you try to offer a reassuring smile. “But I wanted to check up on you boys. Here—” you jut out the pizza box just slightly, offering it to him. “I brought you guys pizza. I didn’t know which kind you two liked, but considering how many burgers you guys go through, I got the one with extra meat.” 

He didn’t move to take it. He didn’t move at all. Your smile faltered a bit, your arm dropping back to your sides in defeat. “Are you… are you gonna let me in?” you asked, trying to laugh it off. “It’s really hot out here—”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Bucky repeats again, even firmer this time. He stands up straighter, finally meeting your eyes as he struggles to find the words. “I’m sorry, but we can’t… you and I. I—we… we can’t keep doing this.” 

“Bucky,” your voice went soft. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, shaking his head. “I promised Jamie I’d put him and our family first. I told him he’d be my priority. And right now, there’s no space for… for this.”

"This?” you repeat, recoiling as the words sting you right in your already aching heart. “Bucky, I know things are hard right now. I get it. And I want to be there for you both—” 

“Please,” his voice cracked, and when he looked at you again, you saw just how badly this was tearing him apart. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Bucky,” you press on, not budging. “I don't know what you two talked about, but please. Please listen to me. I’m here for you. I love you guys, and I’ve been coming up with ways to help—” 

“No,” Bucky cut in, shaking his head before you could say more. “Jamie was right. You… you don’t belong here. You don’t belong here with us.” 

The world seemed to stop spinning. You just stood there, frozen on the porch like some fool clutching a half-warm pizza box, like you really thought that a Meat Lovers Supreme with Extra Cheese would save the fucking day. 

The words hurt like a knife to the chest, because they weren’t just his words—they were Jamie’s too. You told yourself that since he was young and angry, that maybe Jamie actually didn’t mean any of those cruel words. You held onto the idea that Jamie approved of you just a few moments before his outburst. 

But after hearing Bucky repeat it back to you made you realize that maybe you didn’t belong, or there was never a spot for you in this family to begin with.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, forcing a shaky smile that didn’t reach your eyes as you blinked back tears. “You guys don’t mean that. Bucky, please… you both didn’t mean it. Right?”

But Bucky didn’t look up. He just breathed out another broken apology and gently shut the door, leaving you broken and alone on the Barnes' family porch. 

back || next (in progress)

[missvelvetsstuff]

Wildflower

Chapter 9: Floral and Fading

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Pairing: Single dad!Farmer!Bucky Barnes x Florist!reader

Mentions: 18+, enemies to lovers, slow burn, sexual tension, angst and hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, sex, f!reader, small town, mutual pining, daddy kink

Word Count: 4.7k

gif by linusbenjamin || dividers by strangergraphics-archive

Bucky helped clean you up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he gently tugged your skirt back down. His hand lingered for a moment, giving your sore, reddened skin a comforting rub before guiding you towards the door.

You paused with your hand on the knob, glancing back when you noticed him trailing close behind. “Everyone’s gonna be staring at us if you come out with me.” 

“So?” Bucky shrugged, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You ashamed of me now, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you turned away, avoiding his gaze. “Shut up,” you mumbled. “It’s not that. I just don’t want us to be the topic at Jamie’s party now. Especially not after your ex just made things weird.”

“God,” Bucky stalks towards you, stepping in and wrapping an arm firmly around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.  “You’re so hot when you’re looking out for my kid like that.” 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile crept across your lips anyway. You leaned into him, soaking up the inviting warmth of his body. “I can’t help it,” you sighed. “It’s like I’ve got a soft spot for you guys.”

Bucky groans, his arms tightening around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck like he didn’t want to let go. As much as you want to just stay locked up in his house, away from everyone else, you knew you couldn’t. 

With a reluctant groan, you pulled away from him, your hand back on the doorknob. “Control yourself, Barnes,” you warn teasingly. “We’ve got a birthday party to celebrate.” 

“It’s Valentine’s Day too, you know,” he murmured, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, giving you that look that he knows you love. 

You rolled your eyes and nudged him in the chest with your fingers. “I’m leaving now. You give it a few minutes, then follow. And we’ll talk more about…” you made a vague little swirl with your finger between the two of you, “this later.”

Bucky raises his hands in a playful surrender as he makes his way back to the couch, taking a comfortable seat. The cushions sink underneath his weight slightly. He drapes an arm over the top of it, giving you a look. He pats his thigh once—tempting you. 

“Suit yourself, sweetheart.” 

You shoot him one last playful glare before forcing yourself to turn around, opening the door and into the warm afternoon heat. Bucky’s playful chuckle trailed behind you and it took everything in you to not spin on your feet, crawl into his lap, and give that poor couch another reason to creak. 

The rest of the birthday party went by as normal. When you stepped out, you could practically feel all the tension in the air between your friends. Wanda and Nat kept exchanging that stupid glance they always do—and you were pretty sure Vision had already pieced it all together. Either way, none of them said a word. They simply carried on with the celebration like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jamie seemed delighted for the rest of the day, but there was a certain look in his eyes every now and then like he was disappointed his mother left—but being surrounded by people who loved him clearly lifted his mood, even just a little. 

During the cake celebration, everyone gathered to sing “Happy Birthday.” Jamie stood at the center, awkward as ever, hands shoved into his pockets like he didn’t want to be the center of attention. But the pink flush creeping across his cheeks gave him away. Knowing him, he’d likely excuse the blush from the heat. 

And who knew Camila could be so mischievous? 

She had teamed up with Peter and a few of Jamie’s other friends behind his back. Apparently, it’s a Mexican tradition to smash the birthday boy’s face into the cake. And she had every intention of honoring it.

So, right after Jamie blew out his candles and carefully plucked them from the cake, leaning in to take a playful bite, Camila and his friends ambushed him—shoving his face straight into the frosting.

Jamie groaned, lifting his head with icing smeared all over his face. Without hesitating, he grabbed a chunk of cake and hurled it at Peter, then to his other friends. Chaos broke out in the best way possible. Jamie chased after Camila, eventually catching up. He looped an arm around her waist and started smearing icing all over her face as payback while she squealed and tried to wiggle away.

“Man!” Sam groaned, tossing his paper plate in the air. “I wanted a slice!”

Everyone burst into laughter, including Bucky. It was a mess, but it was a good one. Today was filled with the kind of memories that made birthdays unforgettable. It was almost like the drama with Talia never even happened.

And even though you tried to keep things discreet with Bucky, it didn’t really work. At some point, he slung his arm over your shoulders and pulled you in close, right there in plain view of everyone. You would lean into him without thinking, and for the rest of the night, he didn’t let go. 

Eventually, the party wound down. The gang stuck around a little longer to help pack up by folding chairs and stacking tables. Then one by one, they slowly started heading home.

Now, it was just you and Bucky in the kitchen, washing the last of the dishes. Outside, Jamie and Camila lay side by side in the grass, gazing up at the starry sky as fireflies flickered gently around them. 

Your gaze softened when you watched them out the window. “Do you think he had a good birthday?” you asked softly, rinsing out a glass pitcher.

Bucky glanced out the window, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I think he did.”

You let out a hum, nodding your head as you watched them from a distance. There was a brief pause between you two before you decided to address the elephant in the room. 

“So…” you began cautiously, glancing his way, “about us.”

Bucky looks at you with a smirk. “About us…” he repeated, dragging the words out like he was trying to tease you.

You let out  a slow breath. “What are we, Bucky?”

Bucky pauses what he’s doing and turns to face you. He tilts his head subtly with a raised brow—acting clueless when you know damn well he knows what you’re talking about. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… what is this? Where do we stand?” you sigh, keeping your eyes back down in the sink. “You kiss me one day, don’t contact me the next, and then we just had sex—” 

“Hey,” Bucky interrupts you gently, stepping closer and shutting off the water faucet to grab your attention. He cups your cheeks with hands, forcing you to look at him as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I don’t just kiss people,” he said quietly. “I kissed you because I liked you, and I had sex with you because I love you.”

You blinked up at him, your hands gently resting over his as he held your face gently. 

“You love me?” 

He smiled, his thumbs brushing your cheeks in slow, comforting circles. “After everything you’ve done for Jamie, and the way you stood up for him?” he lets out a soft chuckle. “Of course I love you. How could I not?” 

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and if Bucky weren’t holding you so close, you’d have already turned away in flustered embarrassment.

“Jesus,” you let out a breathless laugh. “You’re so corny.” 

“Damn. You sound just like my son,” Bucky grunts. “Why is it that you two always get so awkward when I show just an ounce of affection?” He says teasingly as he pinches your cheek. 

“Because you’re usually all gruff and serious,” you tease, leaning into his hand instinctively. “Seeing you so soft is unexpected.”

Bucky’s smile grows, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazes down at you. “Guess that’s something I can work on,” he murmurs, before leaning in to press a warm, gentle kiss to your lips.

You smile softly as he pulls away. 

“Does he know?” you glance up at him, subtly nodding towards Jamie’s direction. “About Talia threatening the farm?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve kept it from him. He cares so much about his mom… if he knew, it’d break his heart.”

You pressed your lips together. There is so much you want to say to him, warn him that keeping it a secret would only hurt Jamie in the long run, but you didn’t know if it was your place. Parenting was never black and white, and you didn’t want to overstep. Especially when Bucky already has so much on his plate.

Bucky senses the change in your demeanor. He leans in closer, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours now?”

You look up at him with worried brows. “I don’t know if keeping it from him is the right move.” 

Bucky doesn’t respond, but you can see his jaw clench as he averts his eyes elsewhere, not looking at you anymore. 

You sigh. “I get it,” you continue gently. “You’re trying to protect him. And I know it’s not my place to say anything, but he’s smart, Bucky. He’s not a kid anymore. If he finds out on his own, it'll hurt worse than hearing it from you.” 

Bucky lets out a shaky exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve thought about that. But every time I picture telling him, I just… I don’t know,” he braces his hands against the counter, looking down. “I just see the look he used to have when she would cancel on him last minute, and I can’t stand the idea of putting that look back on his face.”

But there was another reason he had never wanted to say out loud.

A deep, buried fear that whispered late at night—that Talia would finally get what she wanted. She would tear the farm down like she always threatened, then pull Jamie in with promises of city life and a fresh start. 

And the worst part of it all, is that Jamie might actually go. 

Because if there’s one thing Bucky knew, it’s how badly his son still wanted his mother’s approval and affection. The poor kid had “mom issues” written all over him. Bucky would see the longing in his eyes everytime his mother’s name was brought up, and the way he would drag his feet with farm chores, always pushing back defiantly like even he knew he was settling for less. 

Just the thought of Jamie not wanting to be with him sends shivers down his spine. 

Bucky didn’t care about the farm if it meant losing his son. He’d burn the whole place down himself if it meant keeping Jamie close.

Bucky is snapped out of his thoughts once he feels your warm hand rubbing his back reassuringly. 

“You’re a good dad, Bucky. But a part of loving someone is letting them feel the hard things too,” you say softly. 

He shudders. “I hate that you’re right,” he murmurs, his bottom lip quivering nervously. 

You give him a reassuring smile, continuing to rub his back once he finally looks at you. Outside the window, Jamie’s laughter echoes across the yard as Camila tries to swat a firefly off her nose. 

He looked so carefree, so young, and so happy.

Bucky watches him from outside the window, a small and sad smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll tell him, but not tonight,” he says with a small nod. “He’ll know soon.” 

The next day came, and just as you said, you gave Jamie more hours to help you out on Sunday. It was partially a joke, but Jamie insisted on showing up to help you out anyway. 

That kid never failed to surprise you.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Bucky to be standing right beside him when they walked through the front door of the shop.

You crossed your arms and raised a brow as they stepped inside. “Pretty sure I only scheduled one of the Barnes boys today,” you said teasingly. 

Jamie just shrugged and grabbed his apron, something he’d finally stopped mumbling about after the first few shifts wearing them. Progress.

“He insisted on coming,” Jamie said dryly, giving his dad a side-eye. “He wouldn’t shut up about how much he missed you and all that gross sentimental stuff.”

Bucky gave him a light swat to the back of the head. “I did not,” he muttered, the faint pink climbing up his cheeks betraying him.

You tried to hold back a grin. It was kind of adorable—how even after everything that happened just yesterday, Bucky was still a little shy around you.

“My house still needs fixing, Bucky,” you point the tip of your pen towards his direction. “The longer you’re here, the longer I have to wait for my house to be finished, meaning the slower you’re getting paid.” 

Bucky let out a light scoff, grabbing a watering can and following after Jamie’s footsteps to help with the flowers in the tin containers.

“Actually,” he began, eyeing the stems carefully as he watered the row beside his son. “You don’t have to pay me anymore, which means that I have the right to take as long as I want.”

You leaned against the counter, resting your chin in your hand with a curious look. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Bucky hesitated, taking a quick glance between you and Jamie. “Because…” he muttered under his breath, “…you get girlfriend privileges.”

Your face heats up in an instant. Even though you heard him loud and clear the first time, you can’t help the teasing glint and mischief in your eyes. “Sorry, what’d you just say?” 

Bucky cleared his throat and repeated slightly louder this time, completely oblivious to your teasing. “I said—you get girlfriend privileges.”

Jamie looks up at his dad in utter disgust, his water bucket still tipped down. “You’re gross, man.”

“Aww, so you would rebuild my entire house for me for free?” you let out a dreamy sigh, giving Bucky playful puppy eyes. “Jamie, who knew your dad could be such a sweetheart?” 

“Ugh,” Jamie groaned, shaking his head. “You two are so disgusting. I’m literally right here!”

Bucky nudges him in the arm, furrowing his brows. “Oh, you think we’re disgusting? Says the guy who was spoon-feeding Camila icing yesterday like it was his wedding.” 

You snort. “True, and don’t forget laying hand in hand in the grass and pointing out stars. I bet he was like, Camila, you shine brighter than the stars in the sky—” 

Jamie’s ears turned pink instantly. “What? We were not—we… we were just messing around!” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “Sure you were, kid. Your school taught you sex-ed right? I signed the permission slip—” 

Jamie’s face was fully red now, completely embarrassed and flustered. Without warning, he grabbed the watering can tighter, still half full, and before Bucky could even register what was happening, Jamie tilted the can towards his direction. 

Cold water splashed right onto Bucky’s chest, soaking right through his henley, which lucky for you… highlights his very wide and beefy chest. 

Bucky gasped, stumbling back a bit with his arms out. “Oh, you little punk!” 

You burst out laughing as Jamie bolted toward the other end of the shop, using a potted plant as cover. Bucky shook out his arms, pushing his sleeves up as water dripped down them.

“That’s it,” Bucky growled dramatically, snatching the hose from the side of the shop. “You wanna play? Let’s play.”

Your eyes widen when you see Bucky unravel the hose, aiming it at Jamie. You reach a hand out to stop him. “Wait, Bucky! Not in my shop—” 

“Stay out of the splash zone, sweetheart,” he warns without looking at you, twisting the nozzle and letting a stream of water shoot out across the floor, just missing Jamie’s converse. 

Jamie yelped and stumbled back, knocking into a few cardboard boxes. You are too damn backed up with orders to be messing around like this, and you definitely did not want to deal with the soggy petals and crushed stems in the aftermath of their water war. 

But as you watched the both of them, with Jamie’s breathless laughter and Bucky’s playful grin filling the air—that’s when you realized—your irritation didn’t stand a chance.

“Hey!” Jamie called out from behind the worktable, grabbing your attention as he looked at you with betrayal. “Aren’t you gonna stop him?!”

You couldn’t even answer without laughing. “Sorry, Jamie. He’s got the hose. If I get involved, I’m just another target.”

“What!” he sputtered, still gripping his watering can like a sad little shield. “That’s so unfair!”

“It’s called being smart,” Bucky calls out, smirking as he inches closer to Jamie with the hose. “You shouldn’t have thrown water on me if you couldn’t handle the consequences, kid.” 

And in a panic, Jamie makes a run for it and bolts from the workstation table. He’s ducking and weaving, trying to dodge Bucky’s water attack until he finally makes his way to you. He immediately grabs you by the shoulders, ducking behind you, and uses you as a human shield.

“Jamie—” you gasped out, but you’re interrupted when Bucky’s aim lands directly on you—splashing water right in your face and chest—soaking your shirt in seconds. 

Bucky froze, his face dropped in instant horror as he twisted the nozzle shut.

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing towards you. “Baby, I’m so sorry—”

But Jamie, who was still hiding behind you like a coward let out a loud snort. You snap your head over your shoulders, glaring at him. 

“S-sorry…” he says sheepishly, backing away.

“I can’t believe you boys,” you muttered, making your way to Bucky and snatching the hose straight out of his hands. You look down at the nozzle, reaching for it. 

Bucky steps aside with a frown. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to–” 

A full blast of cold water hit him in the face before he could finish. Bucky flinched, stumbling back as you grinned like a madwoman.

“What the hell—” Bucky gasped, wiping his eyes as his clothes clung to him like shrink wrap. And you can’t help but stare at his chest like eye candy while you hose him down with water.

Jamie lost it. He throws his head back with a loud laugh, pointing at his dad. “Haha! That’s what you get, old man—” 

You turned the hose on him next, soaking his shirt and apron in an instant. “Oh, you thought you were safe?”

“Crap! It’s freezing!” he hissed, trying to dart behind a shelf.

“That’s what you both get!” you yelled, laughing so hard you could barely aim.

Bucky gives his son a look from across the shop, a silent exchange with mischief in their matching blue eyes. 

They give each other a subtle nod before Bucky lunges at you, ducking under the spray and wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You squirmed in his arms, trying to break free, but he held tight.

“Hey! What are you—!” you squirm. “Jamie, help me! I’m sorry!” You wheeze pathetically, but even you knew it was futile. 

Jamie runs up now, snatching the hose out of your hands and begins watering you down. He laughs uncontrollably as you writhe in Bucky’s arms, being teamed up against both the boys. 

“You two actually teamed up on me?!” you cried through your laughter. “You two are so dead!”

But even despite your words, you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. 

The rest of the day was spent cleaning up the shop, working in damp clothes, and catching up with the remaining leftover weekend orders. Jamie was able to hold his own—just as expected, but Bucky on the other hand, was a bit of a mess. He kept glancing between the both of you, asking endless questions to make sure he was doing it right. 

At some point, Jamie let out a dramatic sigh, and stepped in like he was the manager himself training a new employee. 

“You have to put the rose next to the daisy like this,” he instructed, demonstrating like he was teaching a child. “Otherwise, the whole thing will look like a mess.” 

“That’s what I just did,” Bucky mumbles grumpily, crossing his arms. 

He hates being told what to do, especially by his own son. 

“Uh, no, you didn’t,” Jamie rolls his eyes, mocking him. “You did this, when it’s supposed to be this.” He shifted the arrangement an inch to the left, barely changing it at all.

Bucky threw his hands up in the air in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. That’s what I just did!” 

They were bickering back and forth like this the whole day, and your heart couldn’t help but swell with adoration as you watched them from the sidelines. By the time the last bouquet was wrapped and the shop lights dimmed—it was delivery time. Bucky insisted on taking the truck, so grabbed the keys and tossed them straight at Jamie.

You shoved the last bouquet in the back seat when you looked over. “Wait, what are you doing?” 

Jamie caught the keys mid-air and shrugged as he opened the driver’s side door. “Driving. What does it look like?”

“Okay, sassy,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You don’t even have your license yet.”

“Why not?” Bucky casually leans an arm against the truck, one hand on his hip as he looks down at you with a smirk. “He has his permit and there are two adults in the car. Looks perfectly legal to me.” 

Your eyes flicker between the both of them with a skeptical look. When you realize that Thing One and Thing Two weren’t budging, you just sighed in defeat and let them have it their way. 

“Fine,” you brushed past Bucky to open the backseat door. 

But before you could slide in, Bucky blocked you with a hand on the doorframe. “No, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, nodding towards the passenger side. “You’re the guest today. That means front row seats.”

You scoff. “No way. I’m going to get a heart attack.” 

“Oh come on,” Jamie called out from the driver’s seat, lazily resting his arm on the shoulders of the passenger seat. “I’m a good driver.” 

Before you could even respond, Bucky flashes you a not-so-reassuring smile as he climbs into the backseat, pushing a few boxes to the side to make space for him and himself only. “Only one seat left, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,” you mutter as you stomp your way towards the front. You slid into the passenger seat, strapping your seatbelt on. “I trust you, Jamie.” 

Jamie grinned the second your seatbelt clicked. “You won’t regret this.” Then he threw the truck into drive and it jerked forward harshly and suddenly. 

“Jamie!” you shouted, bracing both hands on the dashboard. “Easy on the gas!” 

“I am going easy!” 

“Son,” Bucky called out casually, eyes drifting to his window. “Ease up a little, you’re going to give her a heart attack if you drive like you normally do.” 

You turned to look at Bucky with wide eyes. “Normal? What do you mean this is normal? He drives like this on the regular?!” 

And now it’s suddenly no surprise that this kid didn’t have his damn license. 

Jamie muttered something under his breath about both of you being dramatic as he straightened the wheel and slowed down just barely. Then, the truck dipped as he sped over a pothole, one of the bouquet boxes thumping in the back. 

You gasped, clutching onto the grab handle. “Jamie, if a single petal falls off, I swear to God I’m going to deduct your pay—” 

“Do not make threats while I’m driving!” Jamie barked. “Dad, back me up! Tell her I’m a decent driver!”

Bucky didn’t respond. He just threw his head back, laughing at the two people he loved from the backseat. 

Later that evening, when the three of you finished up the deliveries and miraculously made it out alive, Bucky insisted on having you over for dinner again. 

It wasn’t anything fancy—just leftovers from Jamie’s birthday—but you didn’t mind. Being with them like this, in their wholesome little bubble, was more than enough.

Instead of sitting at the small rounded dinner table like last time, all three of you lounged on the couch, plates balanced on laps and feet kicked up on the coffee table. At one point, you slipped outside to take a quick call, your voice muffled through the screen door. 

Jamie wiped his hands on his jeans. “Hey, uh… can I ask you something?” his voice is quieter and more serious than usual. 

Bucky looked over, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah. What’s up?” 

Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes fixed on the plate in his lap. “So… is this serious?”

There was a brief pause. Bucky leaned back on the couch, glancing over at your form through the screen door before looking back to Jamie.

“You mean me and her?” 

Jamie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’ve never really brought anyone around before. And now she’s just… here. All the time. I know you called her your girlfriend earlier but… was that just a joke or…?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “No, Jamie. That wasn’t a joke.”

Jamie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, that’s good. She makes you smile like an idiot.” 

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “She does, doesn’t she?”

There was another pause before Bucky spoke again. He sucked in a long and nervous breath. “Yeah. It’s serious, son. I love her.” 

He watched Jamie carefully as he said it.

Jamie didn’t say anything. He just nodded slowly, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

Bucky leaned forward, nudging his son gently with his knee. “Is there something wrong?”

Jamie hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I just…  wish things had been different with Mom, you know?”

Bucky’s expression softened, his brows furrowing together. “Different how?”

“I dunno,” Jamie muttered, not sure how to express himself. “I guess I just wish she could’ve made you happy too.”

Bucky let out a slow exhale and scooted just a bit closer. “Jamie—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jamie interrupted, looking at his dad with a softer and lopsided smile. “I like her. She’s cool. And she makes you happy, and… I like seeing you happy.” 

He dropped his gaze again in embarrassment, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

Bucky turned his head, trying to discreetly hide the way his face flushed. He coughed into his hand, not because he needed to, but to cover the overwhelming emotions that were creeping up on him. “Jeez, kid…” he muttered.

They were never good at being soft with each other. 

But before either of them could say anything else, the screen door creaked open. You stepped back into the living room, sliding your phone into your pocket and eyeing them curiously. 

Bucky’s pink cheeks and Jamie’s stiff posture made you piece it together. 

You smirked. “Is there anything you dorks want to tell me?”

Jamie made a face. “Nope. Not at all.”

You chuckled, not wanting to push it further. “Well, the mailman drove by,” you said, pointing your thumb over your shoulder towards their mailbox in the front yard. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy or anything, so I figured I’d just leave it.”

Bucky started to rise, but Jamie was already on his feet, trying to escape the tense and awkward atmosphere between him and his dad. 

“I got it!” he announces, already brushing past you toward the door.

Jamie jogged down the steps and across the yard. He looks over his shoulder, and from the window, he sees you plopping on the couch next to his dad, resting your head on his shoulder as Bucky pulls you in closer with a smile. 

Jamie snorts at the sight, shaking his head and grinning to himself. 

At the mailbox, he opened the metal flap and pulled out the small stack of letters. Flipping through them as he walked back. Bills, junk, more bills…

But he stopped mid-step when one envelope in particular caught his attention. 

A letter sent from his mother. 

Addressed to Bucky.

And she never, ever sends them letters.

back || next

[missvelvetsstuff]

the great war (bucky barnes x female reader)

the gif is not mine!

summary: you get jealous and have a fight with bucky. inspired by the great war by taylor swift.

a/n: hey anon!!! sorry it took so long. i have no excuse. anyways, i hope you enjoy this!!! <333 also i am once again asking u to send me requests with marvel characters (natasha/bucky/loki) and taylor swift songs so i can write a one shot about it !!!! bye love u

masterlist

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you don't know how it all happened. one second, everything was perfect. the next, you were acting like a crazy person and saying horrible and hurtful things. and now you're pretty sure you've officially lost him forever.

\\\\

it all started with her. agent carpenter. pretty, blue eyed blonde, flirty, perfect agent carpenter.

“alright everyone,” tony begins and the people in the meeting fall into silence. “as you all know, a new member is joining us on the avengers initiative.” they all nod, including you. “her name is samara carpenter and she was personally recruited by fury. which means she's very good at what she does.” the billionaire looks at steve and he nods, taking the lead.

“alright, i want you all to be nice and welcoming. especially you buck.” he says, making most of the people there snort. you look at him.

“what did i do now?” bucky asks, incredulous.

“nothing yet, but if you just stare at her and don't greet her like a normal person she'll leave this team as fast as she came.” sam tells him. the grumpy super soldier rolls his eyes.

“whatever, bird-brain.”

steve shakes his head in disapproval of the two bickering idiots but soon enough he's back on track with the presentation.

bucky's rough gaze scans the room until it falls on you. his eyes soften when he sees that you are already looking at him. you give him a soft and playful smile, which he returns.

after the meeting is done and everyone is dismissed, you head to your room.

not five seconds pass until someone knocks on the door. you smile, because you know who it is.

“come in!” you sing-song.

when he enters, you can't help but stare at him. you've been together for a year now but you still couldn't believe that he was yours. he was so beautiful, so funny, so kind, so dumb sometimes, just so… him. you loved him so much. yet you still hadn't said it. you were trying to take things slow, for both of your sakes.

“hey.” you tell him as he closes the door behind him. he has a look on his face which you recognize. something's bothering him.

“c'mere.” you pat the spot next to you on the bed.

he wastes no time in dropping himself unceremoniously on the mattress and letting out a sigh.

you begin to run your hands through his hair.

“d'you think i'm scary?” he asks with a pout adorning his beautiful pink lips. god, you want to kiss him so badly. so that's what you do. you peck his lips and then immediately shake your head with a smile.

“do you think that adorable pout could be scary?” he purses his lips to stop himself from smiling, but still, a small smile plays on his lips.

“y/n, i'm being serious.” he sighs. you do too.

“maybe to some people you could be. not to me though.”

“but when you first met me-”

“i was too busy thinking about how hot you were to worry about you being scary.” he laughs. god, how you love that sound. you would ridicule yourself to hear it. “is this about what steve and sam said?”

he shrugs.

“i just… hate that i'm so socially inadequate.”

you hand in his hair stops. he furrows his brows.

“bucky,” you begin, “we are a bunch of weirdos, all of us. there is not one person on this team who is socially adequate.”

“but at least the others can fake it, you can fake it.”

“you know what my favorite thing about you was when we first started to become friends?” you ask and he shakes his head. “that your face said it all. if you weren't in the mood for something, i could tell from a mile away, and in return, if something excited you, it would be contagious.” you caress his cheek and he leans into your touch. “and when i couldn't pretend, i always knew you were there to just sit in silence with me. no expectations to be socially acceptable.”

“i don't know how you do it.” he sighs. you frown.

“do what?”

“make every bad thing about me sound so… good.”

your frown deepens.

“hey.” you straddle him and grab his face in between both your hands. “you are perfect. just like you are. don't you dare change yourself.” you tell him firmly. then you purse your lips. “unless you totally want to for whatever reason and i would totally support you because-” you suddenly fall silent. he looks at you, expectant for you to finish your sentence. “because you know i'm here for you, no matter what.”

he smiles softly.

“i know, doll. me too, i'm always here for you no matter what.” you purse your lips to stop yourself from spilling your heart out of your mouth as you caress his cheekbone with your thumb.

“how about we watch a movie? you can pick.”

he pecks your lips and nods.

you spend what is left of the day watching movies and cuddling.

\\\\

two days after that meeting, she arrives. you're all hanging around the common kitchen when steve appears with someone trailing behind him.

“everyone, this is agent carpenter.”

“please, call me samara. or sammie even.”

“sammie, nice to meet you.” sam is the first one to greet her. “i'm sam wilson, but the coolest avenger is fine too.”

you shake your head and roll your eyes. then, you take a step forward, but before you can introduce yourself and welcome her to the team, you see her eyes flicking over to something right next to you. or someone. her eyes shine with curiosity and attraction.

“hi, nice to meet you.” she smirks. you swallow slowly.

bucky gives her a nod, but then he seems to remember what steve and sam told him and attempts to give her a smile.

“hi, i'm bucky.”

“bucky,” she repeats slowly, almost tasting the name in her mouth. she's about to say something else but before she can, you speak up.

“i'm y/n. welcome to the team.” you smile as honestly as you possibly can, but dread fills your stomach.

“hi!” she smiles at you. “you're so pretty, oh my god!”

you give her a tight smile.

“thank you.”

“of course!”

the rest of the team introduces themselves, even though she insists she already knows almost all of them and then you all go about your day.

\\\\

it had been a month since she arrived at the compound. you had seen her a few times, mostly during training. but you didn’t particularly go out of your way to talk to her. there was something you didn’t like. maybe it was your intuition, or maybe it was the fact that she did seem to go out of her way to talk to your boyfriend. and he did not seem upset by that, the opposite actually. he seemed to enjoy it.

you were not a jealous person, least of all with bucky. but something about her irked you. something about her made you doubt yourself and everything you believed in.

“i like her,” natasha says while she paints her nails, laying on her stomach on your bed.

wanda hums in agreement while she flips through the pages of a beauty magazine. you don’t say anything.

“what about you, y/n?”

“um, yeah.” you try to give them a convincing smile but based on the looks they give you, you do not succeed.

“okay, spill the tea.” wanda tells you. had she been learning internet lingo?

you sigh.

“i just- i don’t know.” you shake your head. “doesn’t something feel off to you?”

“not really.” wanda says as natasha narrows her eyes.

“you’re jealous.” she finally decrees.

“i’m not.” you respond defensively.

“you’re jealous that she seems to be getting along with barnes.”

“i-“ you begin your sentence with the intention of uttering a lie, but it dies right on your tongue. “i am. but i don’t want to be.” you confess.

“explain yourself.” she tells you in a tone that could sound commanding and harsh to someone else, but you know it’s filled with care. she’s your best friend, she would never hurt you on purpose. so is wanda, who looks at you with a knowing look you can’t seem to pinpoint the reason for.

“i just- i don’t know. he’s never like that with anyone. since when is he the type to joke around with someone?” you shake your head. “i’m an asshole, cause i should be happy for him. he’s putting himself out there. but i can’t. i’m jealous. so cliche.” you huff.

“you’re not an asshole. an asshole would make a whole scene, give him an ultimatum or something like that. you’re just expressing your feelings to your friends.”

“and, y/n, we all have those ugly feelings. they are human.” wanda tells you, softly. “you should talk to him about it.”

“what if he gets mad?”

“y/n, please. that man adores you, he could never get mad at you. least of all for this.”

maybe they’re right. maybe that’s the healthiest thing to do. and even as you agree with them, you know you will not talk to him about this. because he will realize that you’re right, and that there is so much more to the world than just… you.

\\\\

“come on! you just have to put it in the oven!”

you hear her before you see her. you weren’t expecting to see him though.

right there, almost as if mocking you, they stand. cooking together. he looks so comfortable around her.

they seem to be wrapped up in their own little bubble, so you clear your throat. immediately, they turn to look at you. he widens his eyes, almost looking guilty.

“james found me and i asked him to join me.” she explains, but you stop paying attention the moment she says his name. she called him james.

“james?” you narrow your eyes in question.

he seems to want to say something because he opens his mouth like a fish out of water but you leave mumbling an excuse about training with nat before he can utter a word.

back in your room, you fall to the floor and break down. you knew she was trouble the moment she walked in, but you weren’t expecting this to happen so soon.

heartbroken, you get up from where you’re sitting and head to your bathroom.

the girl in the mirror looks defeated, but you feel angry. if he didn't need you anymore, then you didn’t need him either.

\\\\

the days after that, you ignore him, always having an excuse at the tip of your tongue to not hang out with him. he doesn’t seem to care that much. until, you suppose, after three days, he begins caring.

“doll, can we talk?”

“hm?” you play dumb. you encountered each other in the common kitchen. that damned place, you hated it now, but you were hungry.

“i asked you if we can talk. you seem… distant.” his brows are furrowed. you only know that because you turned to look at him only for a second. other than that, your gaze doesn’t meet his. “come on, y/n, i know something’s wrong.”

you look at him and smile sarcastically.

“you do?”

“yes. please, let’s ta-“

“hey guys!” you roll your eyes at her voice.

“have fun you two!” you tell them, smiling venomously, only looking at him before you leave.

“is everything okay?” she asks.

“i’m sorry samara, i can’t talk right now.” you hear him say before you hear his footsteps getting closer to you in the hallway.

“y/n!” he calls out to you when you get into the elevator without looking behind you. before the doors can close, you see his metal arm get in between them. he gets in and they close. once they do, he hits the stop button. then, he turns to you. he frows when he sees the hate in your eyes. “y/n, what is going on?”

you scoff.

“fuck off, james.” you tell him, your voice full of venom. he widens his eyes in surprise before narrowing them.

“oh, so that’s it? you’re jealous and that’s why you’re avoiding me and acting crazy now?”

“i’m not jealous, but i’m not blind either.” you clench your jaw. “and don’t call me crazy.”

“you are blind if you think something’s going on with her.” he tells you. you roll your eyes and then tilt your head.

“when was the last time you let someone call you james? when was the last time you cooked with someone who was not steve?” he begins breathing heavily. you laugh and bite your lip incredulously. “i think you took the whole being friendly thing too serious.”

“i can't believe you right now.” he shakes his head. “you're angry because i'm not being an asshole to her?”

you scoff.

“oh, please, james.” he clenches his jaw.

“stop calling me that.”

“oh, so i can't call you that but she can?”

“you know that's not-”

“you know what? go ahead. let her call you james. fuck her in the middle of the common room for all i care. lets see how long she puts up with you.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth but its too late, a deep hurt covers his face. still, you can't stop. you're too hurt, too scared. too goddamn stupid. “you think she's going to console you while you have your nightmares?” you laugh venomously. “you think she's going to accept you, all of you?” as you keep talking, his expression turns from pained to angry. resentful even.

he turns to the panel control of the elevator and pushes the stop button so the elevator will move again.

“you know what?” he glances at you and you're almost taken aback by the distant look in his eyes. “maybe i'll fuck her. maybe i'll even date her too. she's probably not as desperate and clingy as you.”

“fuck you.” you spit out.

the doors open, he steps outside. before he leaves, he turns to look at you.

“yeah, you too.”

after the doors close again, you fall to the floor and let out a heart-wrenching sob. you never thought it would end like this.

\\\\

four days. four fucking, horrible, long days bucky has been gone from the compound. you try to ask steve about it, because you know he knows where he is, but he won't tell you. even though you two are close friends and he never got in the middle of a fight between you two– even though you two never fought– he seemed angry. at you. you didn't know if he knew the reason for the fight, but he knew you were in the wrong, that much you knew.

these days all you do is cry, sleep, eat and repeat. you're way past heartbroken, you're miserable, inconsolable. it's all your fault. this prison of sadness was your own making.

you miss him. god, you miss him. you wonder how he is. did he already fuck someone else? did he regret ever being with you?

you don't dare text or call him. you're too embarrassed. you acted like a crazy person, and said awful, horrific things. and you're pretty sure he'll never forgive you. but what will you do then? how will you build a life without him? oh god, you're crying again. great, just great, you think as you turn around in your bed. who were you without him?

\\\\

its the sixth day of his absence when you go talk to steve. you drag yourself from your bed, with your swollen and red rimmed eyes and knock on his door.

“y/n…” he tells you, pity dripping from his tone.

“hey…” you try to give him a fake smile, but as soon as the corners of your mouth move, they turn downwards into a frown, and you start crying. sobbing really. inconsolable sobs leave you as steve wraps you up in his arms.

“hey, hey, it's okay.”

“no, it's not! i hurt him! i don't know why i did it, but i did!” you sob.

“hey,” he pulls away from you a bit to look you in the eyes, “come in. come on, come on.” he tells you as you slowly make your way inside.

you sit down on the edge of his bed and he sits down next to you.

“steve, is he- is he okay?”

he looks at you. you know him, so you know that that look means he isn't.

“he's safe though.”

“i really messed up.”

“i know.”

“he told you?”

“he didn't need to. i saw it on camera. wanted to know why the elevator stopped working for a while.”

you put your head in your hands and begin sobbing again.

“oh my god.” you sob. “i-i'm so sorry you had to see that. i dont… i dont know what-” a hiccup escapes you. “i can't-” another hiccup. “oh god…” your shoulders shake as you sob into your hands.

“hey…” he draws comforting circles on your back, but nothing can comfort you. not when he's hurt and hates you and it's all your fault. “hey.”

“steve, how can i fix it? can i even-” hiccup, “can i even fix it?”

he looks at you with pity.

“i don't know, y/n. i think he's gonna need some time.”

“oh my god.” you say. steve had always rooted for you two, so if he's saying it can't be fixed it really means it can't. “i'm going to die.”

“you're not going to die.”

“i can't live without him. i can't.” you shake your head frantically. “please, just tell me where he is. i need to-”

“i dont think it's a good idea.” he tells you sympathetically.

“please,” you beg him, “please, i need to- if it ends…” more tears fall from your eyes. “it can't end like that. please. he deserves more than that.”

he looks at you, seemingly pondering what you're saying. you look at him the whole time, pleading. he sighs. he's going to tell you.

\\\\

you look at the old building that seems to be deteriorating with each passing second. you straighten down your clothes (steve insisted you get properly showered and dressed) and take a deep breath. he's staying at a safe house in brooklyn. of course. it was so predictable and so him, you almost decided to leave. maybe you should let it end how it ended. what if this time it was worse? but you didn't have the luxury to think like that. it was over, but you needed him to remember you as the good times you shared, not that damned last time.

you enter the building and go up the stairs to the seventh floor, since there is no elevator.

when you reach his door, a green one who looked like if you blew on it it would fall down, you freeze. what are you even supposed to say to him? hi, bucky, sorry i told you she wouldn't be able to put up with you, insinuating that you are hard to love, hope everythings okay between us! ugh, you wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

you take another deep, slow breath, because you know otherwise he'll be able to hear you. then, you knock two times.

when the door opens he takes your breath away. this time not because he's gorgeous but because you're so scared that you fear you're going to pass out.

“what do you want?” he asks harshly. you feel tears prick your eyes but you blink them away.

“hear me out, please.”

“no, thank you.” he goes to close the door, but you swiftly get inside before he does. he slams the door behind him when he turns around to look at you, now inside the apartment, looking uncomfortable and out of place. “i told you i didn't want to hear you out.”

“just-”

“leave.”

“one second-”

“leave, y/n.”

“bucky-”

“oh, so now i'm bucky?” your lip wobbles.

“you're always bucky.”

“not last time we talked.”

“that's why i'm here.” he lifts his chin, looking at you with so much indifference you wonder if he ever looked at you with love in his eyes.

“i don't care to hear you explain yourself.” a tear escapes your eye. you dry it with your sleeve harshly. his face seems to soften for a second but then it goes back to its harshness.

“i'm not here- i'm not here to explain myself.” he looks at you.

“why are you here then?” you sigh.

“remember that time you took me to feed the ducks on that park?”

“yes. so?”

you smile softly as tears fall down your face.

“that was the time i told you i wanted to be your girlfriend. no one ever took me to such a silly date.” you chuckle softly. then you frown in pain looking at the floor now. he shifts his weight from one feet to the other, impatient.

“what's your point?”

“that's how i'd like you to remember me.”

“what?” you look at him. he's frowning.

“i know that the last time we talked i was… crazy. i just- i know theres no going back, but id like, for the sake of what we had, for you to not remember me like that.” you tell him. “because we were more than that.” the last word comes out broken to give way to a silent sob. you try to compose yourself. “I'm sorry. don't pay attention to that.” you give him a fake smile, which you know he can see right through.

“y/n-”

“okay, i'll leave. but… come back to the compound. i'll move out if you want me to, just, don't stay away from your friends just because of me.” you go to leave, walking past him, when he grabs your arm. when you turn around there are unshed tears in his eyes.

“i don't care about the compound. or about remembering you.” oh. you widen your eyes and heavy tears leave them.

“okay, i'm- i'm sorry for suggesting-”

“no.” you nod, understanding. “no, no.” he repeats. he grabs you by the shoulders and he crouches so he's eye level with you. “i don't want to have to remember you.”

you frown.

“but, bucky-”

“but i probably should.” he cuts you off.

“yeah,” you laugh humorlessly as you cry. “you should. i'm sorry. i never should've come here. i'm sorry.”

“stop saying sorry and explain to me what the hell happened.” you tilt your head.

“i… i got jealous.”

“that's it? that's why you hurt me?” he asks. you look down. this was it. he was giving you a chance. explain yourself like you never have before, you think to yourself.

“i never got why you were with me-”

“stop saying were. this could end today, but as of now, were still together.” you purse your lips. “hey, hey, its okay.” he says softly as he puts his hands on your cheeks and wipes the tears that begin falling again with his thumbs.

“im sorry-” he looks at you pointedly. you nod. “i just… i don't understand why you're with me. im not- im nothing like you.” you begin. he frowns. “you are kind and thoughtful and amazing and im- im not good like you.”

“what? y/n, you're the best person i know.”

“you can't still think that.” he looks at you honestly. he does? “see? you're so- and i'm so…”

“lets sit down.” he tells you and you both do, on the old couch thats near the window. he gestures for you to continue.

“i just- you'll never get it. and thank god you won't. but im not- im not a natural, you know? not like you, not like her.” you fidget with your hands. “you guys, the team, you like me because i'm fake. you wouldn't if you knew the real me. but i showed it to you pretty easily, i guess.” you laugh without a trace of humor. he frowns. then, he grabs your hand and caresses your knuckles. bucky takes a deep breath before speaking.

“y/n, i like- no, scratch that. i love you because i know you.” your face contorts in pain. you start crying heavily again. “hey, hey, come on baby, talk to me.”

“i just… she's so… perfect. for everyone, for you.”

“i don't want her, i want you.”

“you cant want me after what i said to you. i hurt you and i'll never forgive myself for that.”

“yes, you hurt me. but you were hurt too, i just didn't see it.”

“im so scared you'll wake up one day and realize there is so much more to the world than… me.” you sob and cover your face with your hands.

bucky pulls your hands away from you face and pulls you into his lap.

“listen to me.” he tells you firmly. “there is nothing more to the world than you. you are it for me, y/n. i love you.”

“bucky-” you hiccup. “i'm so sorry i said that about you. i promise you i just said it to you because i- i was lashing out. anyone would accept and love you, you are literally the most amazing-” hiccup, “person-” hiccup, “in the universe.”

he smiles softly at you and the unshed tears come back, but this time, he lets them fall.

“baby, listen to me. i love you. i'm not going anywhere.” you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. “and i forgive you. i promise you i don't resent you. i know what it's like to lash out when you're hurt.”

“bucky-” you sob against his chest.

“shh, baby, its okay.” he soothes you, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “it's okay, i got you.”

you take a shuddering breath and lift your head from his chest to look at him. you grab his face with both your hands.

“i promise you i'll never lash out again. im so sorry. i-” he gives you a pointed look. “i know. im not saying sorry anymore. sor-” you purse you lips and he lets out a laugh. then, he shakes his head incredulous and looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes you feel like you're going to pass out from all the love you feel for this man. “can i kiss you?” you ask him shyly.

“please.”

and so you do. the kiss is soft, vulnerable, you're telling him how sorry you are, how much you love him, and thats when you remember you didn't say it.

he whines when you pull away, something that makes you smile.

“bucky,”

“yeah, baby?”

“i love you. so much i feel like i'm going to throw up.” he lets out a loud laugh.

“i love you more, doll.”

you spend the rest of the day cuddled up on that couch in that old apartment, not ready to go to the compound yet. but you do send a text to steve before turning off your phone to spend time with the love of your life. you almost lost him, but you didn't, and as you lay in that old mattress on the floor, while he makes love to you and whispers of words of adoration and devotion fill your ears, you vow to him one thing. you'll always be his.

[missvelvetsstuff]

ours (bucky barnes x female reader)

the gif is not mine!

summary: a comment makes bucky question your relationship and he begins avoiding you. tired of his behavior you confront him.

a/n: once again i am asking u to send me requests of bucky, natasha or loki + a taylor swift song so i can write a one shot about it!!!! hope u enjoy this anon<3

masterlist

\\\\

you know exactly when it started, and it makes you furious. everything was fine, it was more than fine, it was perfect. until people thought they had the right to meddle in things that weren’t their concern, like who you should and shouldn’t love. and, for the most part, you could handle it, but then… that damned comment. a stupid twitter comment made by an account without a profile picture set him off. by him, you mean bucky barnes, your boyfriend. and by the damned comment, you mean the one that said that they hoped he wouldn’t turn into the winter soldier and kill you by accident. since then he’s been avoiding you and every time you try to talk to him, he runs away. and you’re sick of it. that’s why you find yourself angrily stomping through your way to his room in the compound.

“bucky.” you call out to him as you knock on the door. you can hear some shuffling of things on the other side so you know he’s there. but he’s playing dumb. “bucky.” you call again. nothing. you sigh, annoyed. “james buchanan barnes if you do not open this door right this second-“ the door opening cuts you off and you fall silent. there, in all his sleepy glory, is your beautiful super soldier of a boyfriend.

“i was sleeping.” he tells you in a low grumble.

“too bad. we need to talk.”

“about?”

“oh you know,” you shrug nonchalantly, “about the fact that you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“i haven’t-“ you don’t listen to his excuse and let yourself in. he shuts the door but doesn’t turn around to look at you.

“james. look at me.” you say, a bit more harsher than you intended. “bucky.” you try again, this time more softly, but it still comes out a bit impatient and you know he can hear it.

bucky slowly turns around and glances at you for a quick moment before directing his gaze to the floor and putting his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

for a bit you stay in silence and just look at him while he avoids your stare. you know it’s making him nervous but you don’t care, not right now, not when you’re this angry and frustrated and hurt.

he clears his throat and glances at you for a second to utter his next few words.

“i haven’t been avoiding you.” and his gaze is back on the carpeted floor.

“the fact that you can’t look at me kind of proves that’s bullshit.”

“it’s not-“

“it is.” you cut him off. “you have been avoiding me and i know why.” that’s when he looks at you. you purse your lips. “that comment-“

“what comment?” he asks defensively.

“you know which one, i don’t want to say it.”

“why?” he asks bitterly. “scared it’s true?”

you frown.

“what?” you say, eyes wide. “are you dumb?”

“we both know it y/n, no need to pretend.”

“oh, so you really are dumb!” you laugh without a trace of joy. he frowns, almost offended.

“i’m not- i’m being realistic.”

“realistic? that’s realistic? reading one stupid comment and then avoiding me?” you tell him, your voice raising a bit with every word spoken.

“yes! it’s for your own good.”

“dumb!” you repeat again, like a child throwing a tantrum. “you are what’s good for me!”

his eyes soften at that but he remains unconvinced.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“it’s best if you leave.” at that your heart drops to your stomach. he really thinks he will hurt me, you think.

“bucky…” you begin.

“y/n, please. leave.”

“bucky.”

“y/n.”

“i won’t leave.”

“leave.” he grits through his teeth.

“no! i love you!” you shout at him as tears begin falling down your face.

“you can’t!” he shouts back.

“why not?!”

“i’m a murderer, a monster! i’m going to end up hurting you!”

“you won’t-“ you plead but he cuts you off.

“you can’t act like that’s not what everyone thinks when they see us together.” he runs his metal hand through his hair in frustration and then raises it to his face to look at it with sorrowful eyes. “you can’t. you’re smarter than this.”

you frown. you’re smarter than this. smarter than loving him as much as you do? smarter than giving this man the love he deserves after a life full of so much pain? smarter than fighting for the one thing that feels right in your life?

you bite the inside of your cheek and look at him. his gaze is back on the floor, but this time you really need him to look at you. so you walk the few steps that separate you both and grab his face with your hands, turning his head your way. still, he doesn’t look at you.

you can see his blue eyes even though they’re not directed at you and they are so sad, so defeated. but they hold so much love there, you know it. he has confessed many times that he burns for you in the same way you do for him. that is why he’s so scared. but what he doesn’t know is that you are too. the idea of ever doing something that could hurt him terrifies you. maybe you’re not scared to hurt him in the same way he’s scared to hurt you, but you understand what he’s feeling, even if you can’t relate to his exact experience.

“bucky…” you begin. his quivering lips purse in an attempt to not break. “baby. please look at me.” you plead. slowly, he does. “listen to me. i’ve told you a million times, but until you believe it i will have to keep saying it. what happened all those years, what your body did, it wasn’t you, it was them.” he shakes his head but you hold him steady, looking at you. “listen to me.” you repeat. “no one has ever taken care of me the way you do. no one,” you tell him firmly as a few tears fall from your eyes, “has ever been kinder to me than you. no one has ever loved me more than you. and i have never loved anyone, anyone, the way i love you.” his eyes shine with unshed tears and you usher him to let them fall with a soft smile. he does. “you are not a murderer, and you are not a monster. you are a fighter, you’re the bravest and kindest person i’ve ever met and most importantly… you are my love.” you chuckle through both of your tears. “they will always have something to say, but this? this is ours james, we can’t let anyone tell us what we are. the only people who know that is you and me. and you know it, right?” he blinks and more tears fall down his cheeks. you wipe them away with your thumbs and began peppering kisses all over his face. “you know it, right?” you ask again. he nods with his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his skin. “say it. please.”

“i know.” he tells you. “i know, i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay baby.”

“no, it’s not. i- i shouldn’t have avoided you, i just- i got all in my head and you know how it is-“

“i do.” you give him a small smile and he returns it before frowning.

“i didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“me neither.” you tell him and he laughs.

“i forgive you, doll.”

“oh? so we’re back on doll territory? no more y/n?”

he narrows his eyes playfully.

“no more y/n, doll-face.”

you purse your lips to stop yourself from grinning but fail miserably. but then you get serious.

“bucky, you got it right? that you won’t hurt me and that- that you shouldn’t listen to what people say, that my love for you is so much bigger than all the hate they may throw at us.”

he slowly smiles and looks into your eyes with so much adoration it makes your stomach twist itself up in knots.

“i got it doll. i don’t know if i’ll ever not be scared to hurt you, but i’ll tell you if i do feel like that. i won’t push you away.”

“please don’t.”

“i won’t.” he grins and grabs your waist to pull you closer to him. as his lips ghost over yours, he says: “it’s you and me against the world.”

[missvelvetsstuff]

i see the light (bucky barnes x female reader)

the gif is not mine!

summary: tony stark decides to throw a valentine’s day party, but the invitation comes with one rule: no date, no entry. when reader shows up to the party with no one by her side and tony doesn’t let her in, it’s up to bucky to find her and make everything better.

a/n: for the hopeless romantics that fear they’re unlovable….

masterlist

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y/n’s pov:

you’re looking at him from across the room. he is so goddamn beautiful you want to punch yourself. or like, kiss him senseless.

“you’re staring again.” natasha tells you. you turn to her and see her smirking.

“i was not- fine i was, but can you blame me?” you admit after she gives you a look with raised eyebrows.

“yeah, i can.” she teases.

“shut up.”

he’s talking to steve, and a small smile is placed on his lips because that’s his best friend. you’re also his best friend, a newer one. he lets out a laugh and you wonder if someone like him would ever even consider something romantic with someone like you. you hate that he does that. that he makes you doubt yourself.

natasha calls your name and you look at her, dazed.

“it’s getting creepy now.”

“what’s getting creepy?” bucky’s voice rings out before you can say something witty to the redhead. you realize he has gotten up from the couch and is now in front of you, with crossed arms. god those arms. you just want him to wrap you up in them forever.

“t-the… the tv show we’re watching.” you stumble over your own words. bucky raises his eyebrows. he knows you’re lying, but thank the gods above, he doesn’t comment on it.

“yeah so… i have to ask steve something about a mission report…” natasha tells you both before she slowly retreats towards where steve is sitting on the couch.

you look at her as she walks, suddenly nervous to be left alone with him. you and your big mouth will spill everything.

“you alright there?” you turn to bucky.

“yeah! peachy.” he tilts his head with a smirk on his lips.

“you’re being weird. weirder than usual.” he jokes. you narrow your eyes.

“alright barnes, watch it.” he grins.

“or what?”

“i will force you to listen to electronic music until the end of time.” he raises his eyebrows.

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would.” he narrows his eyes. you narrow yours. then he breaks out into a breathtaking grin.

“you wouldn’t.” you roll your eyes.

“whatever.”

“so, what are you doing right now?”

“talking to you, unfortunately.” you say dramatically. it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“hm,” he hums, “and i was just about to ask you if you wanted to rewatch tangled with me. guess i’ll ask romanoff.”

“no!” he smirks. “i mean, like right now i’m not doing anything and nat is talking to steve so…”

“uh huh.”

“whatever james.” you tell him and he sighs playfully. you’re the only one who can call him that. not even steve has that privilege. “your room or my room?”

\\\\

you end up in bucky’s room. something about the tv being bigger. you don’t mind, his room might actually be your favorite place in the whole compound. it’s so full of him.

you’re sitting on his bed and he’s right next to you, a few short inches away from bumping your shoulders together, and you’re very aware of that distance.

he presses a few buttons on the control and the movie starts playing.

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever met someone who’s constantly rewatching a children’s movie.”

“it’s my comfort movie, old man.” he huffs. “now, shut up. it’s starting.”

the first scene appears on the big screen of bucky’s tv and you both turn towards it.

\\\\

“everyone, gather around. yes, you too capsicle!”

“what is it tony?” steve asks, exasperated, putting the last plates of dinner in the dishwasher.

“as you all know, in four days it’s the day of love. and so, since i am a romantic -peppers words not mine- i’m throwing a party.” tony does a dramatic hand gesture as if anyone in the room would be surprised that he found a new reason to gather people to gawk at him and get drunk.

most team members in the room look excited, but not you. you despise parties in general, but if there was a type of party you hated the most, it was a party thrown by tony stark himself. they were way too loud, way too crazy and there were way too many people you did not know and did not care to anyways. normally you would spend them with bucky, who, right now, was looking at tony unimpressed.

“but, before you all decide what tailored outfit you’ll be wearing…”

“what tony…?” you ask, sighing heavily. nat and clint snort, knowing very well your stance on these celebrations. you feel bucky’s eyes on you.

“everyone has to bring a date. no date, no entry.”

that’s when everybody’s excitement turns to groans of annoyance.

“can’t. laura’s visiting her parents out of town.” clint tells the group. “unless someone wants to use me to get out of finding a date…“

you are about to raise your hand when nat speaks up, beating you to it.

“i’ll be your date!”

fucking hell.

\\\\

for the next couple of days, you try to gather the courage to find a date. or really to very subtly see if bucky has a date and if not- please god, don’t let him have a date- maybe ask if he would be interested in going to the party with you. as friends who are avoiding potential awkward encounters with potential romantic partners, of course.

you had hope until thursday morning.

you are about to enter the gym when you hear steve tell sam that he’s going with bucky as a ~date~, since tony always teases their bromance, and so they wouldn’t really need to find a real date. freaking captain jerk stealing your man. maybe you can ask sam-

“you’re both idiots. you could’ve actually encouraged cyborg to ask you know who and you could’ve finally asked out nancy from HR.” you know who? did bucky like someone?

“but anyways, aside from your dumbassery, im actually quite excited for the party.” oh no. “i’m going with ryan.” oh no no no.

you feel kind of bad for not getting excited for sam, you know he’s been crushing on one of the pretty lab techs for a while now and they’re finally going out. yay! the only problem is that now that sam has a date, you don’t know who else to ask. would it be so bad if you didn’t find a date? tony was probably kidding about the no entry thing, right?

\\\\

wrong.

very, very wrong.

\\\\

friday night comes around and you find yourself doing the finishing touches on your make up. you decided on a bit of an on theme outfit, tiny red hearts littering the white fabric of the dress you’re wearing.

once you decide that you’re done and ready to go, you head for the door of your room in the compound. before you open it to step out into the hallway, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders. you can do it. it’s just a party. it’s just a party.

the more the elevator descends, the louder the noise gets. you take in a shaky breath and blink quickly.

the doors open and you step out. you’re surprised to find tony at the main entrance, welcoming every single person who enters. everyone’s arms linked with someone else’s. your stomach churns a little, but you keep walking.

“hey tony.”

“kid,” he greets you with a grin, but it quickly starts fading in confusion. “where’s your date?”

“uh, no date.” he raises his eyebrows.

“if i do recall correctly-“

“yeah, i know. i didn’t think you were serious-“

“dead serious.” he cuts you off. you stare at him, dreading his next words. “so, i’m sorry y/n. no date, no entry.”

crack. your heart shatters. and if the shattering of your heart isn’t enough, the burning shame you feel is enough to make you feel like you’re suffocating. you need to go. you can’t break in front of people.

mustering all the strength you can, you roll your eyes and smirk.

“whatever tony, i heard there’s a better party happening not that far from here. and the hosts aren’t assholes.” he gasps in fake offense as you turn to leave. your hands are shaking and there are probably marks on your palm from how hard you’re clenching your fists.

“what party?” he asks your retreating figure.

“bye tony!” you say over your shoulder, as playful as you can.

once you’re out of sight in the elevator, you sniffle. very quickly those sniffles turn to choked sobs. you feel so embarrassed and so sad. the thoughts you normally buried come back up to the surface. you will never find love. you’re not one of those people, you don’t get that life. you live alone and you die alone. forever.

\\\\

bucky’s pov:

he hates these parties. and he hates that he’s such a coward he’s here with steve instead of you. he should’ve asked you. but he was too scared; of rejection, of ruining what you two had, of letting himself have something good, something perfect.

he’s at the bar, half listening to what sam, thor and wanda are talking about, and half searching for you. okay, who is he kidding? he is fully searching for you, his teammates’ conversation background noise, like the rest of the party.

after like half an hour, his usual frown deepens. where the hell are you?

he pushes his back off the bar and walks towards nat and steve, who seem to be engrossed in a very competitive game of pool.

“hey, have you seen y/n?”

they both look up.

“um, no. i assumed she would be with you in a corner.” natasha says while steve shakes his head.

“i haven’t seen her yet. i thought maybe you knew where she was.” bucky tells them.

“who is this she we’re talking about?” tony enters the conversation in his dramatic fashion.

“y/n.” the three of them say in unison.

“oh, i didn’t let her in.”

“what?” nat asks. stark rolls his eyes. bucky’s eyes narrow.

“she showed up without a date. you know the rule, no date, no entry.”

“are you fucking kidding me?” his jaw clenches and steve takes a step forward seeing the murderous gaze he’s directing at the nonchalant billionaire.

“nope.”

“you’re an asshole.” nat tells him angrily while steve shakes his head disapprovingly.

“how did she take it?” he asks after.

“like a champ. she laughed and told me there was a better party not far from here where the host is not an asshole.” oh no. you were probably hurt and acted overtly playful to hide it. tony shakes his head in amusement and bucky takes a deep breath so as to not choke the life out of him with his metal arm. he then looks at steve and a silent conversation passes through them. he’s gonna go look for you.

\\\\

y/n’s pov:

after allowing yourself a moment to cry it all out— or as much as you could— while laying in the fetal position on your bed, you decide to get up and change out of your fancy clothes. the idea of ruining the effort you put into your appearance makes another wave of shame and sadness wash over you. you’re so pathetic, you groan to yourself while you furiously try to wipe your tear stained cheeks.

it’s not until you’re in your pajamas and have mostly gotten rid of all your make up that you hear a knock on your door. you stop in your tracks and stand very still. maybe if you don’t answer, they’ll go away.

“y/n?” you freeze. its the only person who could make this better. its bucky. your mouth opens almost involuntarily, about to answer, but you quickly shut it. looking in the mirror, you see that while the make up is gone and your skin is shiny and clean due to the skin care you did moments ago, your eyes are still red rimmed and swollen. he can’t see you like this. “y/n?” he calls again. you’re still staring at your reflection when you hear another set of hurried knocks on the door. “doll, open up. please.”

“pull yourself together,” you mumble to yourself. then, you raise your voice so he can hear you. “one second buck! i’m not wearing pants!”

quickly, you wipe your eyes with freezing cold water and grab some eye drops for the redness. then, you hurry to your bed and sit down, casually. perhaps too casually.

“come in!”

\\\\

bucky’s pov:

“come in!” he does and when he sees you on the bed, safe and sound, he breathes in relief.

“what took you so long?”

“sorry,” you laugh breathily, lightly, “i was watching tv and i wasn’t decent.”

he walks over to the other side of your bed and sits down next to you. he notices the tv is off and narrows his eyes, but before he can reach any conclusions, you speak again.

“what are you doing here? shouldn’t you be at the party?”

“i’m here because i heard about what stark did.” he spits out the name with a clenched jaw. “wanted to see if you were okay.”

you tilt your head and smile so brightly it makes him feel uneasy.

“of course i am. it’s just tony being tony.”

“he was a jerk, doll. don’t let him off the hook.” he tells you. he doesn’t know exactly what, but something is wrong. there’s almost an electricity in the air, the kind that comes before a storm.

“i promise i won’t. tomorrow i’ll kick his ass in training.” you say, chuckling. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off without realizing it. you seem to be somewhere far off, even though you are actively participating in the conversation. “i’m thirsty, i’ll go to the kitchen to get a water bottle. you want anything?” you say as you stand up and start walking towards the door.

“i’ll go with you.” you stop your pace and turn around.

“don’t be silly, i’ll be back in less than five.”

and then, in a voice to sing-songey and cheery, you tell him: “don’t miss me too much!”

and then you’re gone, closing the door on your way out.

bucky’s now on high alert, looking around the room for any anomalies. anything out of the ordinary. he looks at the entrance of the bedroom, thinks of you laying comfortably on the bed while watching tv- wait, why is the remote on your couch that’s on the other side of your room? he narrows his eyes, trying to put the pieces together. you said you were watching tv, but when he came in the screen was black. he initially assumed you just turned it off to give him your full attention, but why would you turn off the tv, get up from your comfortable spot on the bed to put the remote on the couch and then resume your position over your comforter like you never even moved? that’s when he sees it. bucky turns his head to the right and looks at the spot you had been occupying before you left. everything seems normal, except… is that smudged make up?

he breathes in deeply. you had been crying. you laid on your side and cried onto your pillow. he was going to kill tony stark.

\\\\

y/n’s pov:

when you open the door to your room, you don’t expect to see bucky holding your pillow almost as if cradling a new born baby.

“buck…?”

he looks up. and you can’t decipher his expression. he seems almost… angry.

“you cried.”

“bucky-“

“he made you cry.” you blink, frozen in place with the door half open. “give me one good reason not to strangle him.” bucky puts down the pillow and gets up. then, slowly, he walks towards you. once he’s arms reach from your frame, his eyes turn pleading. “why did you pretend you were okay?”

your chin wobbles, and you clench your jaw trying to stop it. he notices, of course he does. he always does. and his right arm reaches up to reach you, but you take a step back. the crestfallen expression on his face makes your insides twist. taking a deep breath, you declare:

“i am okay.”

he huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“i’m okay.” you say again, harsher this time. upset at his response.

“you’re not. you were crying onto your pillow. i saw the smudged make up.”

“that’s from-“

“don’t lie to me.” he cuts you off. you look at him and open your mouth to spit out another retort but you stop yourself before you can, feeling the warmth of fresh tears on the back of your skull. your eyes find his and your chin starts wobbling again. god, you love him so much. and that’s the problem. he disarms you. you can’t lie to him for long, it’s too painful.

taking a deep breath before speaking, you wipe the one tear that’s already running down your cheek.

“i just… just needed to have a moment. not make a big deal out of it. cause it’s not.”

“it’s a big deal if it’s making you sad.”

“bucky, please. i’m fine now, i already cried. it’s done. just go back to the party and have fun.”

“it’s not done to me.” he tells you, finally moving closer to you and cradling your cheek with his flesh hand. “do you really think i could have fun knowing that my best girl is upset?”

warmth spreads through your chest, to your back, to your arms and hands and the tips of your toes.

“what happened?” he tries again, softly encouraging you to open up with his gentle tone. you swallow.

“didn’t bring a date.” you shrug while more tears begin falling down your face. “it’s so… stupid.” your voice breaks on that word. bucky wipes your tears with both his thumbs now, holding your face in his hands like something fragile, something sacred.

“it’s not-“

“it is.” you insist. “but i still felt so embarrassed.”

“why would you feel embarrassed, sweetheart?”

you shrug again, looking down.

“talk to me, honey…”

“it’s just that… i know that it’s not the center of the universe, that there’s more to life, and i say these things to myself all the time while pretending that i don’t want it, but i do.” your face twists with pain. “and it hurts to know that i’ll never have it.”

“have what? a date?” a sob breaks through your throat.

“no. someone like that. someone that loves you like that.” bucky’s frown turns deeper.

“why wouldn’t you have it?”

“cause i won’t. i’m not- i don’t get that life bucky. no one,” a hiccup cuts you off, “i won’t be loved like that. who would want to spend their life with me?” you ask him, still crying.

you close your eyes and try to breathe deeply. you can’t believe you’ve told him this. this was the one thing you swore you’d take to your grave.

“i would.” your eyes open, wide.

“what?”

“i want to.” he corrects himself.

“you-“

“i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“bucky,” you sniffle and smile softly, “you don’t need to say that. i know you’re trying to be a good friend-“

“i’m not. i’m trying to not be a friend.” you look at him, blinking softly.

“i don’t understand.” you say. bucky takes a deep breath. then, he looks at you, his eyes shining with adoration. he’s still holding your face between his hands and his warmth is starting to seep into your bones.

“i’m telling you that i care for you, as more than a friend. i’m telling you that i’ve been trying to find the right time to say it but that’s actually just been an excuse to be a coward and not do anything about it. i’m telling you that seeing you cry breaks my heart, because i love you, and i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

silence. your heart cracks open.

“bucky.” you almost whimper.

“sweetheart.”

you look at him. really look. this man has been here for you since you met. he has made you laugh til you cried happy tears, he has held you while watching sad movies, he has watched and rewatched tangled with you even though he knows it line by line just because it makes you happy. he makes you love a sometimes unlovable world. and you love him. god, you love him with everything that you are.

before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his. it’s soft, and quick, and unsure, but its also warm and real and bright. when you pull away, he chases your lips and kisses you properly, more confident, sure, steady.

when you pull away, you don’t go too far, foreheads touching, breathing each other in.

“i love you too bucky barnes. more than anything.” you say breathily and full of tenderness. he grins, full of pride and love.

“i figured, baby.” you let out a laugh.

“you’re impossible.” you tell him, amused.

“but i’m yours.”

“you’re mine.” you nod and kiss him again. and again. and again. forever.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Alpine the All-Knowing

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: fluff, Alpine knows best, yearning, some suggestive comments

Synopsis: Bucky tries to get over his crush on a fellow teammate by taking a girl out, but Alpine has spoken.

A/N: I know we've yapped about this for a while, so thanks again for always listening @buckybarnes82 / also, we ignore the SamBucky divorce in this house.

Looking over yourself once more in the mirror, you’re satisfied with your hair and walk out to the common area. Sam and Bucky are playing chess while random music videos play on the TV.

“Did you guys get through Marvin Gaye? What’s next?” You ask, smoothing your hands over your blouse. Bucky eyes you warily.

“Yep. We’re on to some 90’s stuff,” Sam says, not looking up from the chessboard. Alpine waltzes over and zigzags slowly between your feet, nuzzling her tiny face against your calf. You reach down to pet her and she purrs. 

“Check,” Sam says, moving his hand from a bishop. Bucky’s eyes snap back to the game board. How did that happen? He almost always beats Sam at chess. He considers his options as you sit down cross-legged on the floor and cradle the white cat like a baby. Her tail flits back and forth and she continues purring deeply.

“You gonna rock her to sleep?” Sam asks with a laugh. “She looks awfully comfortable.” Bucky rubs his chin in concentration, but can’t keep his focus. He keeps peeking up at you and Alpine.

“She adores me,” you say with a proud smile. “She loves my feminine energy. Being around her grumpy dad all the time probably drains her.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Yeah, okay, sure,” he mutters. You giggle and stand up, still cradling Alpine like a sleeping newborn, and walk over to the chessboard. 

“Yikes, Barnes. Looks like Sam outplayed you this time,” you tease. Bucky tries to think of a move to get him out of check but is instead enveloped by the smell of your perfume - something slightly fruity with vanilla undertones. 

“Where are you headed tonight?” Sam asks. “You look fancier than normal.”

“Why thank you, Samuel,” you say with a mock curtsy. “A gentleman caller is on his way to pick me up soon.”

Bucky suddenly knocks a few pawns to the ground. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters, bending over to pick them up. Alpine lunges out of your arms at the clatter and runs out of the room.

“I guess you win,” he says, looking at Sam as he sets the pieces back on the board with an expression of defeat.

“What? C‘mon, Bucky, you could have gotten out of that!” Sam exclaims. “You’re off your game.” Bucky just shrugs and stands up, clicking off the TV.

“That’s enough of The Cranberries for tonight,” he grunts. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and you take it out, checking the new text.

“He’s here,” you say quietly. “Do I look okay?” You present yourself to Sam and Bucky and spin around slowly. You figured jeans and a nice top were good enough for a casual first date. 

Bucky swallows as you turn around, trying not to ogle your ass in denim for too long. He leans his arm on the table, and misses completely, flipping the chessboard and pieces all over the room.

“Oh my God - sorry!” He yelps, immediately bending over to start picking up the pieces. Sam starts to help him, trying not to bust out in laughter.

“You look great,” Sam assures you, handing Bucky a stray knight. “Go get ‘em tiger! Is this with the fireman?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shy smile.

“What fireman?” Bucky asks curiously. 

“One of the guys from our mission last week - from the team that put out that electrical fire. He’s the captain.”

“Ooh, the captain,” Sam teases. Bucky takes a swig of water as he tries to recall the man that’s about to take you out.

“Maybe he’ll show me his fire hose tonight,” you joke, waggling your eyebrows. Bucky chokes on his water at your comment, spraying Sam with his spit. Sam looks down at his now-wet shirt. “You good, man?”

“Sorry - went down the wrong pipe,” he explains, trying to keep his composure, or what’s left of it. 

“Speaking of pipe, I gotta go! He’s waiting downstairs!” 

Bucky’s eyes widen again and a pit forms in his stomach. Captain Fireman better not show you anything tonight. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Bucky lets out a frustrated groan.

“C’mon, what the hell was that? You lose all sense of coordination when she’s around!” Sam chuckles. 

“She’s just - she… she… the jeans… the innuendos. I need to lie down,” Bucky whines.

“Lie down, huh? You’re going to research her date?” Sam prods, crossing his arms.

“Sam, I would never!” 

“That’s what you said last time, and that poor sucker ended up with four flat tires.”

“He wouldn’t have been good for her anyway,” Bucky grumbles, trying to defend his actions. 

“Yeah? And who would? You?” Sam asks.

“She’s not interested in me, Sam,” he says quietly. “I need to get over it, but I don’t know how. I’m miserable, man.”

Sam looks at Bucky with a soft expression. “Hey, why don’t you ask out that barista down the road? She’s always making eyes at you when we go in there. You don’t have to marry her, but maybe a date or a lil sumthin sumthin might get your mind off her.”

Bucky scoffs and plops down on the couch. “I don’t want a little something from anyone.”

“Yeah, anyone but your teammate,” Sam quips, sitting down opposite him. “Your teammate that’s out with another man right now. Probably getting her fire extinguished.”

“Enough!” Bucky yells, running a hand down his face. “I can’t think about her… with another person like that.”

“Let’s go get coffee. C’mon,” Sam says, standing up. “You gotta get over this chick. You’re gonna mess up the whole dynamic if we’re out on a mission and you’re all soft and not paying attention to the serious shit. Let’s go!”

“Fuck. Fine,” Bucky relents.

—

Sam and Bucky walk through the coffee shop doors and he can see the barista perk up instantly. It isn’t very busy, but that could also be because it’s nearly closing time. Sam nudges Bucky discreetly and whispers, “See? Told you.”

“Stop,” Bucky pleads. 

“Welcome in!” The barista says with a bright grin. Bucky approaches the counter and smiles, glancing down at her nametag.

“Hi Autumn,” he says quietly. “Can I get two decaf coffees to-go please?” She visibly shivers as Bucky calls her by her first name.

“Sure thing, Mr. Barnes.”

“Just Bucky,” he says quickly, stepping back from the counter after paying. 

“That’s it?” Sam whispers to him. “You’re not gonna chat her up?”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Bucky grumbles quietly, taking a hand through his hair. Autumn puts the lids on both drinks and scribbles on them before setting them on the counter.

“There you go, gentleman,” she says, gesturing to the coffee, leaning over the countertop a bit suggestively. 

Bucky takes both drinks and thanks her, handing the one that says “Captain America” to Sam and bringing the one that reads “Winter Soldier” to his lips, trying not to cringe at his old identity. Anyone that knows him never calls him that anymore. Sam has his phone out, clearly trying to give Bucky a chance to shoot his shot. He opens Instagram and shows Bucky a story you posted 12 minutes ago: a blurry photo of two cocktails at a bar with a man’s hand wrapped around one. 

“Fuck that,” Bucky whispers under his breath as he walks back to the counter with purpose. “What are you doing tonight?” He asks.

“Me?” She asks, clearly taken aback by his brashness.

“Well, yeah.”

“Um, I work for another hour. Then I don’t have plans. Why?” She’s wary and he can hear her heartbeat racing in her chest. 

“We should get a drink… not coffee. Like alcohol. Um, like a bar?” 

Sam snickers and continues scrolling on his phone.

“Are you asking me out?” Autumn asks with a light squeal. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess so?” Bucky says, shrugging. “Would you like to go out with me when you finish your shift?”

“Yes!” She says with too much enthusiasm. “I’d love to!”

“Great. Why don’t you swing by the Tower when you’re off? I’ll buzz you up - the whole building is intuitive. It’ll know that you’re not a threat when you come in.”

“The Tower?” She clarifies with excitement in her eyes. “Will Yelena be there? Will John Walker be there?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky says with a shrug. “We all live there, so…”

“Wow,” she sighs, leaning on the counter. Sam clears his throat. 

“Right, well, see you in a bit,” Bucky says, turning on his heel and heading out the door. Sam follows him out and starts laughing as the door swings shut behind them. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Sam says, choking back a chuckle. “You did just fine, man.” He claps Bucky on the back. 

—

When Bucky and Sam get back to the Tower, you’re sitting on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, your makeup from earlier washed off.

“Uh, hey,” Bucky starts, walking over to you and sitting down. “What happened to your date? It’s still early.” He watches you roll your eyes and shrug, but notices the faint traces of tearstains on your cheeks. “Did he do something?” His voice deepens with concern. "Did he hurt you?"

“Oh, no, nothing like that. He just lied about being married,” you spit. “He wasn’t wearing the ring, but the tan line was evident.” You wrap a blanket around you and pull it up under your chin. 

“Oh, shit,” Sam mutters. “You okay?” Bucky looks at you with a furrowed brow. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. He got pretty pissed when I confronted him about it. He said they’re “on the rocks” and I said I don’t date married men. He paid for his drink and left. I guess that’s that.”

“It’s for the best,” Bucky says, uttering your name. “You don’t deserve some asshole like that.” Alpine saunters into the common area and curls into your lap, sensing your irritation and sadness. You pet the cat, finding comfort in her rhythmic purring and soft fur. “Alpy agrees, don’t you, girl?” He murmurs, scratching behind her head. Alpine closes her eyes and leans into Bucky’s touch.

“Yeah. Anyway, I was just about to watch Bachelor in Paradise with Yelena. She’s making popcorn if you guys wanna hang,” you offer. “I just want to forget about it, honestly.”

“Tempting,” Sam says sarcastically, “but I think I’m going to hit the bag for a bit. Buck, you coming?” 

Bucky looks at Sam then back at you and Alpine. “Nah, I’ll stay here and hang with the girls.” Sam’s eyes narrow and a tiny smirk flits across his face. “Alright, man.”

Yelena walks in as Sam walks out. “Popcorn is hot and ready!” 

“Just how I like it!” You exclaim. “I think Bucky is going to watch with us. Do we have extra rosters?” You ask Yelena. “We like to bet on who is going to end up with each other and who is going to go home. You want in?” You ask Bucky. He smiles sweetly at your offer, but declines, sinking back into the couch cushions, halfheartedly watching the show, but mostly watching you and Alpine.

“You are like an overprotective dad,” Yelena quips during a commercial break. “Always watching over your kitten.” 

“Excuse me?” Bucky says, sitting up straight. “Alpine. You are watching her,” Yelena explains, offering the bowl of popcorn to him. 

“Oh… yeah, she’s just so cute,” Bucky says, taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth to discourage further conversation. Bucky’s phone buzzes with an alert: Autumn has arrived. Before he can stand up from the couch, she’s waltzing into the common area. 

“Hi guys!” She exclaims, looking from Yelena to you to Bucky. Alpine’s eyes flick open and she scrunches back into your arms. 

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, standing up and walking to her. “Guys, this is Autumn. We’re going to get a drink. Autumn, this is everyone.” He introduces you all by name.

You watch Autumn look at Bucky with stars in her eyes and feel a small tug in your chest. When did him going out with someone ever bother you before? You were clearly feeling burned from the date earlier and weren’t in the mood to see other people going on ones that would probably end up better than yours. 

Yelena waves and offers her the popcorn bowl. She shakes her head. “No thanks. I don’t want popcorn breath!” Bucky’s mouth twitches at her comment, wondering just what she expects from the evening. You see his miniscule reaction and the small tug in your chest rages into a fire. No - no no no. Oh fuck. How long have you had these feelings and not realized it? 

John and Bob walk in, sweaty from their evening workouts and look over at Bucky’s guest. She’s practically salivating, her jaw unhinged at the sight of Walker in gym clothes. It makes you want to shake her. Why would anyone have eyes for Walker with Bucky right there?

“Hi, I’m Autumn,” she says, walking past Bucky and extending her hand to John. He shakes it and introduces himself. “Yeah, I know who you are. I can’t believe I’m meeting you right now.” She’s like a fangirl, not hiding her obsession.

You roll your eyes and Alpine arches her back, her hair standing on end. “Alp, what’s wrong?” You whisper, trying to calm her down, but she jumps off of you and tiptoes to Bucky’s date before letting out a hiss. Her ears turn downward. You bite your lip and try to hide a smile, watching as Alpine circles around Autumn blatantly flirting with Walker. 

“Alpine!” Bucky groans, trying to pick her up. “What’s wrong with you? What’s the matter girl?” 

“I think she hates your date,” Yelena says with a laugh, watching Bucky run after the spooked cat.

“Me?” Autumn asks innocently. “I’m more of a dog person anyway.” 

You watch Bucky roll his shoulders at her comment and try not to smile.

“So, Autumn, didn’t you come here to go out for a drink with Bucky? Or is it Walker? I’m confused,” you say, crossing your arms. “Or are you just Avenger hopping? What is it that they call those girls that hookup with cowboys? Buckle bunnies? We need to workshop a name like that for these situations.” 

Yelena gasps and giggles. “Maybe she prefers blondes,” she offers.

“Her loss,” you say without thinking. Bucky stops chasing Alpine and turns around, locking eyes with you. You swallow, not sure how that slipped out so easily - like you’ve been thinking about it for ages. “I’m just saying, like, Bucky has a nice head of hair.” 

“You know, you’re kind of a bitch,” Autumn says, one hand on her hip. Alpine lunges at her, claws out, but Bucky intercepts her before she can latch on. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight! Autumn, I don’t think drinks are going to happen. Walker, why don’t you show her out?” Bucky says, fighting for his life to keep Alpine in his arms. Walker escorts Autumn out. You and Bucky look at each other but don’t say anything. Yelena looks between the two of you. 

“I think I heard Sam yell for help,” she fibs, practically running out of the room. It’s just you, Bucky,  and your new favorite wingwoman, Alpine. Bucky rakes a hand through his hair and walks toward you, setting Alpine down. 

“Her loss, huh?” He asks, sitting down across from you. Your cheeks turn pink.

“Maybe,” you answer, sitting up straighter. Taller. 

“Could be someone else’s gain,” he mutters, looking at you suggestively.

“Yeah, like who?” You press, scooting to the edge of the couch. 

“I think you know who.”

“I think Alpine knows who, too,” you say softly as the cat curls up once again in your lap. 

“I thought you thought I was invisible,” Bucky whispers. 

“And I thought you weren’t interested. That’s why I said yes to the damn fireman, Bucky!” 

He blushes and laughs before coming to sit next to you. “You thought I wasn’t interested? I can’t keep my cool around you. I’m like a damn kid every time I see you. The chess pieces were everywhere! I choked on water seeing you in those jeans!”

You giggle. “I got so jealous seeing you with another girl.” 

“Are you feeling okay now?” He asks, relaxing into the couch.

“I think so. I mean, Alpine made her choice clear. I guess we just have to get her dad on board,” you tease, stroking her fur.

“Her dad’s been on board since the moment he met you,” Bucky says softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Alpine meows as Bucky leans in and brushes his lips against yours, and damn, did it feel like a long time coming. 

“Checkmate, Bucky!” Sam exclaims, walking around the corner and seeing the two of you locking lips. Bucky flips him off and keeps kissing you, feeling you smile against his lips. “About damn time!”