peterparker-spid3erman

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Jealous Bucky

Prompt: John Walker is flirting with Y/N and Bucky is not happy about it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

——

The mission was over. Finally.

After everything the Thunderbolts had been through—explosions, betrayal, too many close calls, and one particularly annoying helicopter crash—the team had made it out in one piece. Mostly. Everyone was exhausted, bruised, and more than ready for downtime.

They were all scattered around the common room of the safehouse, where someone had put on music and cracked open beers. It was the first time in days that things felt... calm.

Bucky leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a cold bottle of water. Ava stood beside him, biting into a granola bar and eyeing the room with her usual mix of indifference and sharp observation.

And that’s when Bucky saw it.

Walker was on the couch sitting way too close to Y/N.

She looked relaxed, curled sideways into the cushions with her legs tucked under her. She was dressed in an oversized hoodie that definitely belonged to Bucky and had her hair pulled back in that soft way that always made his heart beat a little faster.

She was smiling. Laughing. Walker was leaning in, elbows on his knees, body angled toward her. His expression was easy, confident. Flirting.

Bucky’s stomach tightened.

“She doesn’t even notice,” Ava said without looking at him, her tone bored. “He’s been laying it on for ten minutes.”

“I noticed,” Bucky muttered.

“Oh, you noticed the second he sat down. You nearly crushed your water bottle.”

Bucky’s jaw flexed as he watched Walker gesture with a lazy grin, fingers brushing the back of the couch, right behind Y/N’s shoulders. Her face lit up as she laughed again.. She looked completely at ease. Completely unaware.

Walker leaned in just a bit more. “You know, if I’d had you on my team during the last op, I wouldn’t have taken a hit at all. You’re faster than half the guys we had in the field.”

Y/N laughed again, brushing him off. “Please, I tripped over my own boot five minutes into the chase.”

“Still looked good doing it.”

Bucky didn’t hear the rest.

He pushed off the counter and stalked across the room, ignoring Ava’s amused, “Here we go.”

Walker barely had time to glance up before Bucky dropped down, right between them. No warning, no hesitation. One second they were sharing a couch cushion, and the next, Bucky was planted squarely in the middle, his vibranium arm brushing Walker’s shoulder hard enough to make a point.

“Hey, babe,” Bucky said, voice low.

“Hey! I didn’t see you come over.”

“I’ve been watching,” he said pointedly, shooting Walker a cold glance.

Walker raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “Just having a conversation.”

“Pretty sure you were having a performance,” Bucky said, his tone sharp. “You do that thing where you lean in and talk slow. Must work on people who aren’t paying attention.”

Y/N glanced between them, a little confused. “Wait—were you flirting?”

Walker shrugged. “I mean, if you didn’t notice, then I clearly wasn’t doing it right.”

Her expression shifted—half surprised, half annoyed. “John.”

“Hey, harmless,” Walker said, palms up. “You’re beautiful. I complimented a beautiful woman. Sue me.”

“She’s taken,” Bucky growled.

“I know,” Walker said. “You didn’t exactly leave it a mystery when you sat down like the jealous boyfriend in a soap opera.”

Bucky leaned back against the couch, arm stretching behind Y/N with deliberate ease. “Good. Let it be known.”

Y/N sighed and rested a hand on Bucky’s thigh, her voice calm but firm. “Okay. Everyone chill. Nobody’s getting sued for flirting and nobody’s getting stabbed over a couch cushion.”

Walker stood with a smirk, lifting his drink. “You two are adorable. I’ll go find someone less committed to flirt with.”

As he walked off, Bucky didn’t look away until Walker disappeared into the hall.

Y/N turned to him with an amused look. “You really sat in the middle of us.”

“I saw the way he was looking at you.”

“I didn’t.”

“You never do,” Bucky muttered.

She tilted her head, smiling now. “Jealous, huh?”

He groaned. “Of him? No. I just don’t like the idea of anyone thinking they have a shot with you.”

Y/N leaned in, placing a kiss on his lips. “You don’t have to mark your territory, Barnes. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

His voice softened. “Just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she said. “Especially not to John freaking Walker.”

From across the room, Ava shouted, “That’s the right answer!”

Bucky laughed despite himself, pulling Y/N tighter against his side.

Walker could flirt all he wanted. But Y/N was already taken.

And she wasn’t going anywhere.

--

The sky outside had shifted to deep gold, casting long shadows through the windows of the safehouse. Most of the team had filtered out to their rooms or found quieter corners to decompress. The music had stopped. The noise was gone.

Y/N leaned against the windowsill, sipping from a mug of tea. She watched the fading light, quiet, and thoughtful. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, and her hair was a little messy from the couch.

She heard soft footsteps behind her and smiled before he even spoke.

“Hey,” Bucky said quietly, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants.

She turned to look at him. “Hey yourself.”

He walked over and stood next to her.

Y/N tilted her head. “You okay?”

Bucky shrugged a little. “Yeah. Just... needed a breather.”

She nodded. “Yeah. That was a weird vibe back there.”

He looked away for a second. “Didn’t expect to get that worked up.”

“About Walker?”

He gave a tight nod.

Y/N crossed her arms gently, not in defense—just grounding herself. “I honestly didn’t realize he was flirting until you sat between us.”

“Yeah, I caught that.” He glanced at her now, lips twitching faintly. “You’re a little too good at being friendly.”

“Is that a compliment or a warning?”

“Both,” he said, more softly than he meant to.

There was a silence, comfortable but weighted.

Bucky stepped closer. “It’s not about you doing anything wrong. It’s not even about him, really. Sometimes I get this... voice in the back of my head that says, 'Don’t mess this up.' Like I’m waiting for someone to come along and prove I was never supposed to have this in the first place.”

Her heart tugged a little at that.

“You didn’t mess up,” she said gently. “And you’re not going to.”

“I know.” He looked down. “Most days I believe that. But every now and then, something like today happens, and I just—” He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, frustrated sound. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” she said without hesitation. “Not over someone like him. Not over anything.”

He finally met her eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

Y/N stepped in close, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. “Because this isn’t something I just stumbled into. I chose you. Every day I get up, and I still choose you.”

Bucky rested his chin lightly on top of her head, his arms slipping around her. The tension that had been knotted in his shoulders slowly eased.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured.

“Only because you never stop needing to hear it,” she teased, looking up with a smile. “Which I don’t mind. You’ve always been worth the reminders.”

He kissed her softly.

When they broke apart, she poked his chest lightly. “Also, you had perfect timing. I was five seconds away from making things super awkward.”

Bucky smirked. “Yeah? How?”

“I was going to ask him if he needed directions to someone else’s personal space.”

He laughed, really laughed, and she felt it in his chest beneath her hands.

“Next time, I’ll let you handle it,” he said.

“Oh, you better. I’m getting good at the polite-but-lethal tone.”

Bucky tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re kind of terrifying sometimes.”

She grinned. “Only when someone thinks they can come between us.”

His smile softened. “No one can.”

And just like that, the weight that had been clinging to him all evening finally let go.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Sex, Dishes, and Emotional Damage

Prompt: Y/N walks into the kitchen where the rest of the Thunderbolts are and is in a very grouchy mood. She's mad at them for one reason and Bucky for another.

Pairing: Fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

---

The kitchen buzzed with the usual morning chaos: clattering mugs, half-hearted jokes, and a steady stream of sarcasm as the Thunderbolts tried to function on minimal sleep and questionable caffeine habits.

Y/N shuffled in like a storm cloud wrapped in fuzzy socks. Her hair was in a messy bun that looked moments from total collapse. She wore leggings and one of Bucky’s oversized sweatshirts—it nearly swallowed her whole, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips, the hem brushing her knees. She looked exhausted… and somehow still unfairly adorable.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Yelena chirped from her perch on the counter, legs swinging like a child’s as she sipped from a black coffee mug.

Y/N grunted. “Is it?” she muttered, making a beeline for the coffee pot like it held the meaning of life.

“Someone’s a little grumpy,” Ava sing-songed, lazily stirring her cereal.

“I’m just saying,” John added with a smirk, “this feels like one of those mornings where I pretend I didn’t see anything and slowly back out of the room.”

Bucky, leaning against the fridge, watched his girlfriend move around the kitchen like a very tired, very cute gremlin. He held a banana he’d long since stopped eating, more interested in how she looked in his sweatshirt. His voice was soft when he greeted her.

“Hey, doll.”

Y/N didn’t even look at him. “Don’t ‘doll’ me right now.”

Yelena’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh. He’s in trouble.”

Y/N turned with her mug, scanned the room—and froze.

The dishes.

The fucking dishes.

The sink overflowed with food-streaked plates and smudged mugs. Greasy pans hadn’t moved in days. The garbage can was brimming. The counters were covered in crumbs, an empty energy drink, and a sticky mystery spot that might’ve been jelly.

“This kitchen,” she said, eerily calm, “is an actual war zone. Why do I even bother making a chore chart if no one reads it? Is it invisible? Am I being pranked?”

“Y/N, relax,” John said, raising both hands like she had a weapon.

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she snapped, spinning so fast coffee sloshed over her mug. “Last time someone said they’d clean it, guess who spent two hours on her hands and knees scrubbing dried oatmeal off the tile? Me!”

“Babe—” Bucky started gently.

She cut him off without turning. “Don’t even start with me, Barnes, because I’m mad at you too.”

A low whistle escaped Yelena. “Welp. I’m leaving before blood gets spilled.”

“I’m going with you,” Ava said, grabbing her toast as the three of them evacuated with zero shame.

Silence settled over the kitchen, save for the hum of the fridge.

Y/N let out a long sigh and leaned against the counter, arms folded tight, jaw clenched. But beneath the edge in her voice, her eyes looked tired—not furious, just worn down.

Bucky leaned against the counter opposite her, patient and calm.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m tired. Not just tired-tired. Everything-tired. I feel like I’m doing all the little things no one else even notices. Cleaning. Organizing. Fixing. And the second I clean something, it’s a disaster again.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “You’re right. I haven’t been helping enough. And I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.”

She blinked a few times. Her voice cracked when she finally whispered, “I just miss when it was simple. When it was just us. That shoebox apartment with no furniture and a toaster that shot bread like a missile.”

Bucky chuckled, stepping closer. “You mean the one-bedroom with the leaky faucet and neighbors who screamed at each other every night?”

“Yes,” she mumbled, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I miss it. Because it was ours.”

He reached for her hand, gently lacing their fingers. “This is ours too. We just forgot how to protect our peace.”

She let herself lean into his chest for a moment, melting into the quiet comfort of him. “Thank you.”

He rubbed slow circles on her back with his thumb, then pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Okay. But why am I in the doghouse, exactly? I’ve been pretty well-behaved lately, haven’t I?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. Then, softly: “We haven’t had sex in, like… a week, Bucky.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait. That’s why you’re mad?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Don’t laugh.”

He laughed anyway. “You’re mad at me for not jumping your bones?”

“I said don’t laugh!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Babe, I didn’t know that was on the official ‘Reasons You’re Mad at Me’ list.”

“Well it is!” she insisted. “I’ve tried. But every time I make a move, you’re already passed out or talking mission strategy or patching someone up.”

Bucky stepped in closer, his voice low and sincere. “If you had said the word, I would’ve dropped everything. You know that, right?”

She looked away, but he could see the faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I wanted you to notice first.”

“I always notice you,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Even when you’re mad at me. Especially then—you get all snappy and flushed. It’s hot.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. “Shut up.”

He grinned, tugging her into him again and pressing a kiss to her temple, then the corner of her mouth. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere with a lock. And a bed. And no dishes.”

She giggled as he led her toward the hallway. “We’re just leaving this mess?”

Bucky glanced back at the disaster zone. “We’ll clean it later. Or bribe Yelena.”

Y/N laughed as he guided her to the doorway, stealing one more kiss before guiding her out—her hand in his, her storm-cloud mood finally starting to clear.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

The Broken Bed Frame

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Prompt: Y/N and Bucky are secretly seeing each other and after a steamy night, Bucky tells the Thunderbolts he needs a new bed. They have a lot of questions.

----

The hum of the air conditioning in Avengers Tower was the only sound as Y/N lay tangled in sweat-slick sheets, one arm draped lazily across Bucky’s chest. His skin was warm beneath her palm, rising and falling with steady breaths, and his vibranium arm was still looped protectively around her waist, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip.

The room smelled like sex and victory. Mostly sex.

A lopsided grin tugged at Y/N’s lips as she stared at the crack in the ceiling. “So,” she murmured. “Wanna explain to everyone else why you’re going to be searching for a new bed frame tomorrow?” 

Bucky chuckled under his breath, deep and smug. “I’ll just say I rolled over too hard.”

“With me on top of you?”

“With enthusiasm.”

The broken bedframe groaned again as Y/N shifted, prompting another shared laugh before she leaned up to kiss him. The kiss was slow, unhurried, and a lazy reward for a long day of pretending they weren’t screwing each other stupid behind everyone’s backs.

----

The next morning the Thunderbolts were gathered in the common room of Avengers Tower, everyone in various stages of coffee-dependency. Yelena was sprawled on one couch, flipping through a magazine. Ava nursed her espresso slowly. Alexei was in a squat competition with himself. And John Walker was recapping his latest run like anyone cared.

Bucky strolled in late, hair damp from a shower, black Henley snug against his chest. He looked too pleased with himself, which immediately set off silent alarm bells for Y/N, who sat on the armrest near Ava, sipping from her mug.

“Morning,” he greeted, grabbing a mug.

“Someone’s cheerful,” Yelena noted, raising a brow.

“I’d be cheerful too if I slept for ten hours straight,” Ava added, blowing on her coffee.

Bucky shrugged casually. “Would’ve been longer if the bed hadn’t given out in the middle of the night.”

Y/N choked on her coffee.

A beat of silence followed.

“The what did what?” John asked, confused.

Bucky sipped, totally unfazed. “Broke right in half.”

Yelena sat up straight, eyes gleaming. “Wait—you broke a bed?”

“What were you doing?” Ava asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I thought you slept alone?” John frowned.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered, slowly turning to Y/N, whose face had gone suspiciously blank. “You okay? Did you—were you there?”

Y/N cleared her throat, forcing a neutral tone. “I’m sorry, I—you broke your bed?”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “Yeah. Thing just couldn’t handle the… pressure.”

Alexei barked a laugh. “You did the sex too hard, didn’t you?”

“Who was in the bed?” Ava asked, now entirely invested.

“Please tell me it was you,” Yelena said to Y/N with a wicked grin. “That’s the only explanation that would make this amazing.”

John frowned. “Wait, what is happening?”

Y/N blinked. “I mean—what makes you think I was—?”

“She was,” Bucky interrupted, with the casual grace of someone announcing the weather.

Everyone’s heads whipped toward them.

“Wait, what?” John choked. “You two are—”

“Oh finally,” Ava muttered.

“Called it,” Yelena smirked, pulling a crumpled twenty from her back pocket and tossing it at Ava. “Told you they were sneaking around.”

“I thought they were just flirting weird,” John said, looking mildly horrified.

Y/N rubbed her face, groaning into her palm. “We were very stealthy.”

“You’re terrible at being stealthy,” Yelena said. “You disappeared during the last mission debrief and came back looking like you were glowing.” 

Alexei raised his mug. “To broken beds and better orgasms.”

“Cheers,” Bucky said smugly, raising his coffee.

Y/N just sighed and gave in, nudging Bucky with her foot. “You’re lucky I like you, Barnes.”

He leaned back, totally unbothered, and grinned. “You liked me a lot last night.”

Yelena howled with laughter. Ava groaned. John looked like he needed brain bleach. And Alexei muttered something about “young people these days” as he dropped into a squat.

---

The teasing didn’t stop for the rest of the day.

Every room Y/N walked into, someone had something to say.

“You walking okay?” Ava asked sweetly as they passed in the hallway. “Need me to ice your knees?”

“Tell Bucky to reinforce the furniture next time,” Yelena said over lunch. “Or maybe don’t do gymnastics in the bedroom. Just a thought.”

Even Alexei, unbothered and casually nosy, had offered them both protein bars “for recovery.”

By the time dinner rolled around, Y/N had all but sworn to fake a mission request just to escape the tower for 48 hours.

She found herself in the kitchen late that night, post-shower, hair damp and knotted into a bun, wearing an oversized hoodie—his hoodie—and absolutely not hiding from anyone. Definitely not.

She was spooning Nutella straight from the jar when Bucky strolled in, shirtless, in gray sweatpants. The smug look hadn’t left his face since the Great Bedframe Confession of earlier.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just blown up their secret and set it on fire.

“You,” she pointed the spoon at him, “have zero impulse control.”

His smirk deepened. “Did you want me to lie?”

“I wanted you to not volunteer the fact that we broke a bed having sex. There’s nuance, Barnes.”

He stepped closer, one hand bracing beside her on the counter. “You think they weren’t going to figure it out eventually? They had bets going. Yelena kept making heart-eyes every time we so much as breathed near each other.”

“She also asked me if you bark during sex,” Y/N deadpanned.

Bucky blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t know, she said you give off ‘feral Golden Retriever’ energy.”

His lips twitched, struggling not to laugh. “I mean, I am loyal…”

She smacked his chest with the spoon.

He caught her wrist mid-swing, tugging her forward until she was pressed against him, sticky chocolate forgotten. His mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “You didn’t seem too worried about being quiet last night.”

Her breath hitched. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“You love me,” he said with that damn cocky grin.

“Shut up.”

“Say it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, then leaned in to murmur, “Fine. I love you, but I swear to God, Bucky, if you make anymore comments about furniture during a team meeting—”

“I’ll behave,” he promised, totally unconvincing.

----

Everyone was gathered again, breakfast spread across the table. Yelena was peeling an orange with a knife like a threat. John was mid-rant about proper chain-of-command. Ava was sipping her coffee with the detached energy of a woman who had emotionally clocked out months ago.

Y/N strolled in with Bucky trailing behind her.

Yelena’s eyes flicked to them, quickly noticing the smug smile on both their faces. 

She raised a brow. “So, did you break another bed last night or just the kitchen table this time?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alexei spit out his orange juice from across the room.

John stood up. “I’m going back to my room. This is so inappropriate—”

“Someone’s jealous,” Bucky muttered.

“Of what?” John barked. “Your lack of boundaries?”

Ava sipped her coffee. “No, he's definitely jealous of the sex.”

Yelena held up a second crumpled twenty. “New bet: who’s next to hook up in this tower?”

Alexei grinned. “I volunteer.”

Y/N just laughed, reached over, and stole a piece of toast from Bucky’s plate. He didn’t stop her—he was too busy watching her with that look. The one that said mine without ever having to say a word.

Broken beds be damned.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Keeping Secrets - John Walker/US Agent

Pairing: John Walker/US Agent x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Foreplay/Oral

Prompt: John tries to hide that he got hurt on a mission and it does not go well when you find out, or does it?

The room was quiet, the way it always was after a fight—not the kind of fight that ended with shouting or slammed doors, but the slow, aching kind. The kind where silence said more than words ever could.

Y/N lay on their bed, sprawled like a siren in his favorite black silk nightdress, pretending to read a book. Her legs were long and bare in the amber light of the bedside lamp, her expression set in that unreadable calm she wore when she was absolutely livid.

Walker stood in the doorway, watching her like a man already halfway into enemy territory.

He’d just come out of the shower, hair damp, sweat from the night’s job washed off—but not the guilt. That still clung to him like smoke.

She had seen it when he’d peeled his shirt off, finally. The angry red scar slicing across his side. A knife, deep enough to have needed stitches. She hadn’t said anything right away. Just stared before turning and leaving the room.

That was definitely scarier than her yelling.

It had been an hour. She hadn’t moved except to turn the pages of that book she wasn’t actually reading. She just lay there, silent, taunting him with her body and her indifference like it wasn’t a weapon.

Walker stepped in, shutting the bathroom door softly behind him. She didn’t look up.

“You’re not even reading that,” he said quietly.

“Yes I am.” Her voice was flat, clipped. The verbal equivalent of slamming a door in his face.

He crossed the room slowly, crawling onto the bed like a man approaching dangerous territory. Because he was. But she didn’t stop him—she just kept her eyes on the page, like he wasn’t already sliding between her legs.

“You’re mad,” he said against her knee, kissing just above it.

“No, Walker,” she replied, flipping a page she hadn’t read. “I’m furious.”

Another kiss, higher this time, on the inside of her thigh. She sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away.

“You got stabbed and didn’t tell me.”

“I got a cut,” he corrected, fingers pushing up the edge of her nightdress. “There is a big difference.”

She finally looked at him, the book dropping onto her chest. “Are you being serious right now? You think because you downplay it that it makes it better?”

He kissed her hip, then the soft skin above it, fingers grazing up her sides. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react exactly like this, and it was nothing.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It was already healing—”

“How long?” she cut in, dropping the book beside her with a soft thud and finally looking down at him, fury and something else simmering behind her eyes.

He paused, caught in that moment between truth and deflection, his finger brushing lazily over her nipple through the thin silk. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t gasp. Just kept her gaze locked on his like she wasn’t unraveling beneath him.

“How long what?” he asked, pretending not to notice the way her chest rose just a little quicker beneath his hand.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. How long have you been hiding it from me?”

Walker didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid down, palm dragging across the dip of her stomach, fingers curling under the hem of her nightdress like he had all the time in the world.

She did a damn good job of pretending not to be turned on—legs stretched out, lips pursed in that tight, unimpressed line, not a flicker of emotion on her face. But he knew her better than that. Knew every tell, every shift in her breathing, every way her body betrayed her long before her mouth ever did.

If he touched her now—really touched her—he knew what he’d find.

Wet. Warm. Waiting.

Still, she played it cool. That stubborn, glorious pride in full swing.

“Three days,” he said at last.

She blinked. “You’re kidding.”

But he wasn’t. And when his fingers slipped between her thighs, finding heat and slickness like he knew he would, her jaw dropped in spite of herself.

“You absolute—”

She choked on a gasp as he pushed two fingers inside her with maddening confidence, a slow grin stretching across his face.

“Three days?” she bit out, hands fisting the sheets beside her. “You came home bleeding and just didn’t say a word?”

“I said ‘hi,’” he teased, voice low against her neck as he kissed his way down it, lips brushing her pulse, slow and deliberate. “Pretty sure that counts.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t murder you in your sleep.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he smirked, pumping his fingers slow and deep. “You’d miss me too much.”

“You overestimate your importance.”

“And yet your legs are wide open right now.”

She squirmed underneath him, hips giving away what her mouth wouldn’t. Her head stayed pinned to the pillow, expression set—like this wasn’t lighting her nerves on fire.

“Nothing? Not a peep?” he murmured against her skin. “That’s fine. I’ve got time.”

Walker came in with the killshot, thumb rubbing slow, excruciating circles over her clit. Her fingers dug into his shoulders then, nails pressing crescents into his skin.

“Fuck—You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re soaked.” He pulled back just enough to meet her glare, his smile maddeningly smug. “For someone who's furious with me, you're sure making it hard to believe.”

“You think this means I forgive you?”

“I think your body’s saying a hell of a lot more than your mouth is,” he said, curling his fingers just right, making her back arch against her will.

She hissed in frustration. “I should dump you. Find someone boring and safe. Who reports paper cuts.”

“Oh, please.” He chuckled against her chest. “You’d eat them alive.”

“They wouldn’t be as brazen as you.”

“They also wouldn’t make you come like I do.”

She opened her mouth, maybe to argue—maybe to say something sharp and clever—but then his mouth closed around her nipple through the silk and her breath hitched instead.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, voice low and wrecked now.

“I really am,” he said, the nightdress pushed up so he could kiss her stomach. “Because if I didn’t have that going for me, I think you’d actually kill me.”

“You have no idea.”

But her tone had softened, even if her body still hummed with tension. He could feel it—anger knotted up with desire, a coil inside her just waiting to snap. She wanted to stay mad. She was mad. But she wanted him more.

“It just scares me,” she said after a moment, voice quiet now, brushing the edge of a confession.

Walker looked up at her, the teasing falling away, just for a second.

“I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

He crawled back up and kissed her then—slow, honest, nothing cocky about it. Just the truth, pressed to her lips.

Her fingers slid into his hair again, not pulling now. Fingers brushing through the blonde strands as he moved back down to her stomach.

“Next time, you tell me.”

“I will.”

“Promise.”

“I swear.” His voice was rough. Real.

She rolled her eyes—barely—then let out a low gasp as his tongue replaced his thumb, warm and slow against her clit. Her hand flew to his hair again, gripping tight this time, like she couldn’t decide whether to push him away or drag him closer.

“Oh God—John.”

Walker groaned low in his throat like he was savoring her, like the taste of her was the only absolution he needed. And maybe it was. He worked her with a patience that bordered on sinful, tongue moving in slow, teasing strokes, then faster—his fingers sliding back inside her, curling just right, drawing little sounds from her throat she tried so hard to hold in.

“T—this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” she gasped, her hips lifting off the bed.

“Didn’t say I was,” he murmured against her, not letting up for a second.

“You’re just—trying to distract me—”

“Is it working?”

“Shut up and—oh fuck—”

Her head snapped back against the pillow, thighs trembling around his shoulders as he doubled down. Her hands fisted the sheets now, jaw slack, her breath turning ragged and fast. Her control shattered in pieces—glorious, breathless pieces—as he pushed her right to the edge and held her there.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her, voice rough. “Come on, baby. Let me have it.”

She broke for him in a rush, pleasure crashing through her like a wave, blinding and hot and perfect. Her body arched off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she clenched around his fingers, pulsing through every slow stroke of his tongue until she was trembling beneath him.

Walker didn’t move until the last of it had passed, until she sagged into the mattress, boneless and breathing hard.

Only then did he kiss the inside of her thigh, a soft press of lips like a seal on a promise. He crawled up her body slowly, curling beside her, brushing her sweat-damp hair off her cheek.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his cocky grin gone for now—just him. 

She blinked at him, chest still rising fast, lips parted like she wanted to say something.

Then she shoved him lightly with the back of her hand. “You’re an idiot.”

He grinned. “Yeah. But I’m the idiot who just made you forget your own name.”

“…Temporarily,” she said, biting back a smile.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll take it.”

[peterparker-spid3erman]

You're Not Subtle - John Walker/US Agent

Pairing: John Walker x Fem!Reader/Thunderbolt

Warnings: None!

Thought I'd change it up :P

The gala glittered like a diamond under the city’s night sky—soft jazz weaving through the air, champagne flutes catching the light, and a skyline full of stars that didn’t shine half as brightly as she did.

John Walker had eyes on her the second she stepped out of the elevator.

That dress—that dress—was a weapon in itself. Black silk, high slit, open back. It clung to her like it had been sewn onto her skin, daring anyone to look and risk forgetting how to breathe. And by the way heads turned, it might as well have come with a warning label: Approach with caution.

Walker stood near the edge of the ballroom, bourbon in hand, sharp suit tailored to military precision, doing little to disguise the fact that he was watching her and only her.

She didn’t speak to him through the comms. She didn’t need to. They both knew the mission, the target, the timing. Roman Almont—charming, arrogant, and filthy rich off tech no one was supposed to have. She was supposed to get close. Walker would stay close enough to watch, close enough to clean up if needed.

She moved with practiced grace through the crowd, her smile just coy enough to be inviting, her eyes playing a game only she knew the rules to. Almont didn’t stand a chance.

John watched her approach him, all honeyed laughter and casual contact. She leaned in as if whispering something risqué, brushing her hand down Almont’s arm and slipping her fingers into his jacket. With a single motion, she palmed his phone and held it behind her.

Smooth.

Effortless.

Walker didn’t say a word. He pushed off the marble column, took a long sip of his drink, and passed her by, grabbing the phone from her hand, exactly how they planned it. By the time he reached the bar, he’d already unlocked the phone and began downloading the tracer.

But he didn’t take his eyes off them.

From where he stood, he could hear Almont laying it on thick. “You’re dangerous, aren’t you?” the man said, voice low, syrupy. “I like that.”

Walker’s jaw tensed.

She shifted, trying to step away, but Almont followed. He caught her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. She gave a tight-lipped smile and turned slightly, but he stepped in again, cutting off her retreat.

That was all the invitation Walker needed.

The download finished and he tucked the phone into his sleeve before making his way toward them. Not fast. Not confrontational. Just smooth, relaxed—like someone who had all the time in the world and every intention of owning the room.

He arrived beside her like gravity had pulled him there.

“Evening,” Walker said, voice warm, effortless. His eyes never once drifted to Almont—they were locked on her. “Mind if I steal a moment?”

She turned to him, catching on instantly. “Depends who’s asking.”

He gave a slow grin, the kind that knew exactly how dangerous it was. His hand slid to the small of her back, fingertips grazing bare skin, and she instinctively leaned into his touch.

“John Walker,” Almont said, finally recognizing him. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Walker gave a nod, casual. “It’s a good cause.” Then, with deliberate intent, he turned fully to her. “But I have to say…the company just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

She tilted her head, amusement playing at her lips. “Do I know you?”

“No,” Walker said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, “but I think we should change that.”

She laughed softly, and the sound wrapped around him like smoke. Almont shifted beside them, trying to regain footing.

“Excuse me,” he cut in, his voice tight. “We were in the middle of a conversation—”

“I’m sure you were.” Walker’s tone was light, unconcerned. He reached out and clapped Almont’s shoulder briefly before moving his arm downward and sliding the phone back into his pocket. His other hand stayed on her lower back, fingers spreading just slightly, grounding her, claiming her. “But it looks like she’s with me now.”

She didn’t argue. Didn’t even glance at Almont.

Instead, she leaned into Walker’s side fully, her body brushing his, the message clear.

Almont hesitated. His gaze flicked between them. Then he gave a tight nod, forced smile in place. “Enjoy your night.”

“Oh,” she said sweetly, eyes locked on Walker’s. “We will.”

When Almont disappeared into the crowd, she finally turned to face Walker fully, one brow arched. “You just had to insert yourself, didn’t you?”

He smirked. “You looked like you were about to start stabbing him with your hairpin. Thought I’d save you the trouble.”

“You didn’t even insult him.”

“I didn’t have to,” he said, stepping in close again. “You leaning into me like that said everything.”

Her heart skipped a beat—but her voice didn’t waver. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Guilty.” His voice dropped lower, his breath brushing her ear as he said, “Tracker’s on. And for the record? So am I.”

Her pulse thrummed in her throat.

“Stay close,” he murmured, not pulling away. “You know, just in case he circles back.”

She tilted her head slightly, her lips just shy of his cheek. “Are you flirting with me, Walker?”

His smile curved slow and deliberate. “That depends. Is it working?”

She let her lips hover near the edge of his jaw, so close he could feel the warmth of them. Her voice was all velvet. “You’re not subtle.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

She chuckled, low and quiet, her mouth brushing against his just enough to blur the line between accidental and intentional. A spark zipped through the air between them.

“You’re going to get us caught,” she whispered, lips still grazing his.

His hand slid a little lower on her back, fingertips now resting on the bare skin just above her hip. “Then I guess you’d better keep pretending you’re into me.”

She arched a brow, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Who says I’m pretending?”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The jazz played on, soft and sultry, the room humming with elegance and shadows—but between them, the air crackled like static before a storm.

Walker’s eyes searched hers, something unspoken flickering behind that confident smile. “Well,” he said quietly, “that’s gonna be a problem.”

She tilted her head again, amused. “Why’s that?”

“Because I was planning on using the rest of this mission to flirt shamelessly,” he murmured, thumb brushing a lazy circle against her skin. “And now I’m not sure where the act ends.”

She let a beat pass, the silence heavy and charged. Then she smiled—slow, knowing—and leaned in just enough to press her lips to the corner of his mouth, warm and fleeting.

“Then I guess we’re both in trouble,” she whispered.

Walker exhaled a breath that was half a laugh, half a curse, low in his throat. “Yeah,” he said, eyes still locked on hers. “The best kind.”

From across the room, Almont glanced back in their direction.

Walker didn’t look away.

Neither did she.

And when his hand slid into hers, guiding her effortlessly toward the dance floor, it was no longer just part of the mission.

Not really.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Never Have I Ever (Adult Edition)

Prompt: The Thunderbolts decide to play Never Have I Ever. Much to Bucky's dismay Y/N becomes a little to willing to share about their sex life.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, 18+, minors do not engage

------

The Thunderbolts were somehow not blowing something up, which was impressive. Following a rare successful mission with zero civilian casualties and only one minor fire (which Ghost put out with a fire extinguisher and a smirk), they’d earned some downtime at Avengers Tower.

That’s how they ended up sprawled across mismatched couches and beanbags in the lounge, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, and a game of “Never Have I Ever: Adult Edition” already spiraling into chaos.

Bucky sat with his arm slung across the back of the couch, Y/N sitting with her back against the armrest, legs sprawled across the couch and onto Bucky’s lap. Both of them were holding half drunken beers in their hands. 

Walker leaned in with a wicked grin. “Alright, next one. Never have I ever had sex in a quinjet.”

There were some groans, a couple of eye-rolls, and then two people drank: Yelena, with absolutely zero shame, and—Y/N .

Everyone turned.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and looked down at her, amused. 

Y/N  shrugged with a smug little smile. “What?! Don’t you remember we were stuck on a stakeout for 36 hours, and it was raining. I got bored.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bucky said, smirking. 

Walker cackled. “You got bored? What about Barnes? Didn’t think he had the stamina for mid-mission extracurriculars.”

Y/N  turned to the group, clearly tipsy and way too comfortable. “Oh, Bucky’s got plenty of stamina. I mean, you don’t survive a century of war and Hydra brainwashing without learning how to go for, like, five rounds in one night.”

There was a stunned silence.

Ava choked on his drink. “Five?”

“Depends if we count the shower,” she added, thoughtful now, as if doing math. “And the floor. Oh! And that time on the balcony. Though that one was more of a quickie, technically.”

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hand. “Y/N …”

But Y/N was on a roll.

“You guys don’t understand,” she said, leaning forward like she was sharing state secrets. “This man is a menace. Silent, broody, acts all mysterious, and then he—”

“Y/N !” Bucky hissed, bright red now. “I swear to God—”

“—broke the headboard. Twice.”

Ava wheezed. “This is the best day of my life.”

Red Guardian was nodding proudly. “Good man. Strong arms. Knew it.”

Yelena pointed at Bucky with a raised brow. “You didn’t even flinch when she started talking about this. How often do you two—”

“Never have I ever had sex on a rooftop?” Ava interrupted. 

Y/N smirked at Bucky and took a sip of her beer. She nudged him and he reluctantly took a drink as well. 

“Damn, you two need to slow down,” Bob muttered. 

Walker grinned wider. “Alright, my turn. Never have I ever hooked up with someone mid-mission. Like, you know, while still technically on duty.”

Yelena raised her glass slowly. “Well, technically I once had a quickie between two ops. Had to keep it quiet though—Walker nearly blew our cover trying to be discreet.”

Walker feigned offense. “I was being respectful!”

Ava laughed. “Respectful? You literally banged on the door like a gorilla.”

The room erupted into laughter, and even Bucky’s tension eased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at Y/N .

“Never have I ever been tied up during sex,” Ava said with a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge.

Y/N casually took a slow sip of their drink, trying to hide a small grin, while Bucky let out a low, amused sigh before following suit and taking a sip himself.

Bob leaned forward, curiosity lighting up his face. “Okay, seriously—what haven’t you done?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“I have to know…was Y/N or Bucky tied up?” Yelena asked. 

Y/N  smirked and leaned into Bucky. “Hey, what happens in Avengers Tower stays in Avengers Tower.”

“Unless Y/N decides to broadcast it like a podcast,” Bucky muttered.

“Guilty,” she said with a wink.

Another few rounds of “Never Have I Ever” confessions followed, each one more hilariously embarrassing than the last, much to Bucky’s increasing discomfort.

“Enough!” Bucky stood, gently lifting Y/N ’s legs off him like she was a landmine. “We are never playing this game again.”

Y/N  tilted her head back against the couch, grinning up at him. “You love me.”

“I love you less when you’re drunk and talking about my super-soldier stamina in front of everyone.”

“You love me most when I talk about your stamina.”

He froze, narrowed his eyes—and then bent down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

“Okay. That’s it. We’re leaving.”

A chorus of protests rose up.

“Nooo, come on!”

“She didn’t even get to the balcony story!”

“Bucky, come on, share one detail—”

“Do not encourage her!” Bucky snapped over his shoulder as he led Y/N  toward the elevator.

She gave the group a dramatic wave. “If the tower starts shaking later, mind your business!”

The elevator doors closed.

Ava turned to Yelenal. “Ten bucks says they’re doing it in there right now.”

Yelena sipped her whiskey. “Smart money’s on the elevator.”

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Super Solider Stamina

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Prompt: Y/N reveals too much information about her and Bucky's sex life to Yelena and Ava and Bucky get's revenge

-----

Y/N was lounging upside-down on the Avengers Tower couch, legs hanging over the backrest, hair brushing against the floor, and a knowing smirk plastered across her face. In front of her, Yelena sat cross-legged with a tub of ice cream in her lap, while Ava flipped through a magazine she clearly wasn’t reading.

"You two are so tense," Y/N declared, pointing a spoon at them. “You both need to go out and get laid. Seriously.”

Yelena didn’t look up. “And we’re starting here, why?”

“Because this is an intervention,” Y/N said, straightening dramatically. “You’re both walking nerve bundles. I swear I can hear Ava’s spine grinding. And Yelena, you flinched when the toaster popped this morning.”

“It was loud,” Yelena snapped.

“Exactly my point. What you need isn’t therapy, or more combat training. What you need is a hot, completely forgettable one-night stand with someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t afraid to ruin your life for one night.”

Ava raised an eyebrow. “And this is coming from the woman who’s dating America’s Broodiest Man.”

“Exactly!” Y/N beamed. “Bucky was broody. Now? He’s relaxed. Smiles more. Sleeps better. He even jokes.”

Yelena looked suspicious. “What did you do to him?”

Y/N leaned in with a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Oh no,” Ava said immediately. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

“I’m just saying,” Y/N went on, not afraid to share any details about her sex life, “there’s something exhilarating about being pinned down by a supersoldier.”

Yelena gagged. “Please stop.”

"I’m dead serious. One night with him, and I finally understood what super soldier stamina really means. He doesn’t stop. Not until your legs are shaking, your voice is wrecked, and your body forgets what rest feels like. Three orgasms? Minimum. Coherent thought? Not happening for at least twenty-four hours. He’s relentless, in the best, most devastating way possible."

Ava blinked. “Three?”

Y/N nodded. "And that’s before he even takes his shirt off. The moment it hits the floor, everything snaps. Every glance goes straight through you, every slow, deliberate move makes your skin crawl with need. It’s impossible not to burn up inside knowing the stamina you know he’s about to unleash."

Yelena dropped her spoon. “That’s too much visual. Too much detail. I'm still a child in some countries.”

Y/N was on a roll now, unbothered. “One time? He…used the vibranium arm as leverage, braced me against the glass, and said—”

The elevator doors slid open with a gentle ding.

The man of the hour, Bucky Barnes stepped in, toweling off his hair, dressed in joggers and a dark henley, walking toward the kitchen but stopping when he heard the word “leverage.”

He paused.

Three sets of eyes locked onto him.

“...What did I just walk into?” he asked cautiously.

Y/N lit up. “Hey, babe! We were just talking about you.”

Yelena threw the pillow at her. “She’s telling us war crimes.”

Ava was smirking at Bucky, revealing she knew way too much about him. “Y/N said that you have amazing stamina and that you’re vibranium arm--”

Bucky turned bright red. “I—what? Wait. Y/N!”

Y/N shrugged innocently. “What? I’m helping! They’re stressed. They need to relax. I’m offering inspiration.”

“I did not consent to being used as Exhibit A in your sex-ed TED Talk!” Bucky barked, now clearly panicking.

“Too late,” Yelena muttered. “You’re a whole case study now.”

“I’m leaving,” Bucky muttered, already walking backward toward the elevator. “You’re all insane.”

“Love you!” Y/N called after him. 

Bucky paused, pointing at her. “You’re getting payback.”

“I hope so,” she smirked.

The elevator doors shut behind him.

Ava slowly turned to Y/N. “So... back to this leverage thing…”

Yelena held up her hand. “No. We’re going to a bar. We’re finding someone hot. And I’m doing whatever they say—as long as it doesn’t involve windows, or vibranium.”

Y/N pumped her fist. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The team was mid-briefing in the tower’s war room, the kind with the 3D holograms, the giant table, and an overwhelming amount of caffeine. Y/N sat between Yelena and Ava, twirling a pen like she wasn't already bored out of her mind.

Walker was talking and clicking through intel slides. Bob was silently judging everyone.

And Bucky?

Bucky was biding his time.

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded casually, watching Y/N with a small, unreadable smirk on his face. She hadn’t noticed yet. But Yelena did. 

Something was coming.

Walker cleared his throat. “So our next op involves infiltration through a three-story compound—minimal cover, tight corridors. We’re thinking two-person teams. Standard breach and clear—”

Bucky casually raised a hand. “Can I make a team suggestion?”

Walker looked up. “What’re you thinking?”

Bucky smiled. “I should probably pair up with Y/N. She’s good at close-quarters work.”

Y/N arched a brow. “I’m flattered, babe.”

Bucky kept going. “And she’s excellent under pressure. Real flexible. Knows how to adapt to… tight spaces.”

Yelena immediately started choking on her water.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Bucky innocently said. “Just giving the team some context for why I think we work well together. Like that time in Berlin—what was it you said? ‘You handle the top, I’ll take the bottom’?”

Ava’s mouth dropped open.

Walker blinked slowly. “I’m…gonna pretend that was tactical.”

Bucky smiled. “Oh, it was very… hands-on.”

Y/N’s face was flaming. “James Buchanan Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Oh no,” he said, leaning back. “You’re the one who decided to give my resume out like free samples at Costco. This is me… networking.”

Bob tilted his head, intrigued. “This is more entertaining than the actual mission.”

Ava tried not to laugh and failed. “You two need couple’s therapy or a reality show. Maybe both.”

Yelena was wheezing. “I told her payback was coming.”

Bucky turned to Y/N with a shit-eating grin. “You really should warn them about how loud you are during recon missions. Could compromise the whole operation.”

Y/N kicked him under the table so hard that Ava’s water bottle rattled.

“Oops,” she said sweetly. “Tactical reflex.”

Walker stared down at his notes. “I’m begging you. Keep the flirting PG until after we clear the building.”

“I can’t make promises,” Y/N muttered, glaring at her boyfriend, who looked way too pleased with himself. 

“Good,” Bucky said, cracking his knuckles. “I like when you’re angry. Makes the mission more… physical.”

Yelena stood up. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this. I need bleach. Or a priest.”

Ava followed, eyes wide. “We were not ready for this level of revenge.”

Y/N slumped back in her chair, groaning. “I liked you better when you were emotionally repressed.”

Bucky leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You’re gonna like me even better tonight.”

Her pen snapped in half.

Walker, already regretting his life choices, said, “Next time, I’m assigning you to separate continents.”

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Glitter and Cuddles

Prompt: Y/N returns from a bachelorette party and when she gets home all she wants to do is cuddle with her boyfriend, Bucky

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

---

Title: Glitter & Cuddles

Bucky was sprawled across the couch, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other holding his phone above his face. The screen glowed dully in the dim living room light, but he wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just scrolling absentmindedly, counting the minutes until Y/N got home.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavier without her in it. 

Then the front door clicked open.

Bucky’s head turned immediately, phone forgotten. He heard the unmistakable sound of a rolling suitcase bumping over the threshold and the soft shuffle of slippered feet.

And then there she was, still wrapped in the remnants of travel: leggings, an oversized hoodie (one that suspiciously resembled his favorite), a backpack hanging from one shoulder, and an exhausted expression that made his chest ache.

She didn’t even glance his way before kicking off her Ugg slippers, letting her bag fall with a dull thud, and making a direct beeline for him.

“Hey—” he started, sitting up a little. 

But she was already there.

Without so much as a warning, Y/N threw herself onto him, collapsing into his chest like she belonged there—because, well, she did. With a dramatic groan muffled by his shirt, she wrapped herself around him. 

“Hi,” she mumbled against his sternum.

Bucky huffed a soft, as his phone slid off the couch somewhere behind him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, metal and flesh curving to hold her securely, protectively.

“Long trip?” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head.

“Endless. Loud. There was glitter. So much glitter.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “I missed you. I need a solid five minutes of just... this.”

He kissed the crown of her head with a gentle smile. “You’re sparkly.”

“I know.” She groaned. “I think I absorbed it through osmosis.”

“Did you roll through a craft store?”

“No, but someone brought body glitter to the club and it was chaos. I’m pretty sure it’s in my soul now.”

He laughed quietly, reaching up to brush a few glimmering specks off her cheek—only to smudge them more. “It’s like hugging a disco ball.”

“I warned you,” she mumbled, her arms tightening around him like a vice. “Now you’re contaminated. There’s no going back.”

“I can live with that.”

For a while, they didn’t say anything. Bucky just held her, his fingers tracing soft, sleepy circles on her back through the worn hoodie. The kind of silence that existed only between two people who knew each other inside and out. Who didn’t need noise to feel close.

Eventually, she tilted her head back just enough to peek at him, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and affection.

“Were you asleep?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a bit of glitter from the edge of her brow. “Just scrolling. Waiting on my girl.”

She smiled, slow and sleepy. “Well, your girl is home. And she’s not moving for the next twelve hours.”

“I’m good with that,” he replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll order food later if we decide we’re humans again.”

She laughed against his neck. “Perfect.”

He grinned. “Also, you’re definitely getting glitter all over the couch.”

“You love it.”

“I love you,” he corrected, voice warm and unhurried. “The glitter’s just… part of the Y/N experience.”

She leaned up to kiss him, a slow, sweet brush of lips that made his heart feel too full. Then she collapsed again, sighing contentedly.

“Oh,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper, “I brought you something.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “If it’s glitter, I’m throwing it out the window.”

“Nope,” she murmured. “It’s a keychain. Says, ‘I heart my hot assassin boyfriend.’ 

He let out a low laugh, his chest shaking beneath her. “Romantic.”

“Only the best.”

And just like that, tangled in a nest of blankets and love and literal sparkle, they drifted off—together. Home wasn’t the couch. It wasn’t even the apartment. It was the feeling of this.

----

Bucky woke to fading afternoon light. The weight of Y/N was still draped over him, a familiar comfort he never wanted to live without. Her cheek was squished softly against his chest, her mouth slightly open, breathing slow and steady. Her hair was a wild mess, flecked with glitter.

He smiled, slow and sleepy, and traced his hand along the small of her back, gentle and aimless.

She stirred, letting out a tiny noise, and shifted—one leg now completely flung over his hip like she owned the space. Which, honestly, she did.

“Mm. Alive?” he whispered, voice husky from sleep.

“Barely,” she croaked, half-asleep. “Why are your abs still firm? This is supposed to be a human pillow.”

“You’re napping on a supersoldier, babe.”

She groaned dramatically and burrowed closer. “You should come with a mattress topper.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re still glowing, you know.”

“I want to ruin your shirt,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“It’s already ruined,” he replied, glancing down at the glitter-streaked mess of cotton. “We are going to be finding glitter for the next few months.” 

She cracked one eye open. “Think of it as festive.”

“I’m serious. I think I saw some in your ear.”

Her nose scrunched. “Noooo.”

“Yes.”

“God,” she groaned, flopping onto her back beside him and dragging half the blanket with her. “I need to shower.”

He rolled onto his side to face her, eyes soft. “Or… you could keep laying here. Being adorable. Glitter and all.”

She let out a little hum, her smile sleepy. “So you do like the glitter.”

“I like you,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips along her jaw. “If that means I have to sparkle, I’ll deal with it.”

She grinned. “Bucky Barnes: ex-assassin, part-time glitter fairy.”

“Don’t say that too loud. Sam’ll never shut up about it.”

“Sam already thinks I tamed you. This’ll just seal the deal.”

He laughed, then paused. “You didn’t tame me.”

She turned her head toward him, curious.

“You just… make the noise stop,” he said, quietly. “You come home, crawl on top of me like a weighted blanket full of sass and glitter, and suddenly the world doesn’t feel so damn loud.”

Her heart caught in her throat.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “You can’t just say things like that. I was gonna shower.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all, and leaned in to kiss her slow and deep.

When they broke apart, her smile was softer. Sleepier. Warmer.

“Guess I’m staying glittery a little while longer.”

He pulled her back into his chest and held her like she was something precious. “Guess you are.”

And there they stayed: a quiet tangle of limbs, love, and sparkles, wrapped in a comfort deeper than rest—something you don’t find in a five-star suite or trendy bar.

Just home.

Just them.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Bucky Comforts You (fluff)

Pairing: fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Prompt: Y/N wakes up with horrible cramps and decides to cuddle with her boyfriend, Bucky

No warnings, just fluff

--

The sun hadn’t even peeked through the curtains when Y/N stirred, groaning softly and curling further into herself. A sharp cramp twisted through her lower abdomen, pulling a whimper from her lips. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach as she looked at the empty side of the bed.

“Bucky?” she murmured, voice hoarse with sleep. The sheets were cool where his body should’ve been.

Y/N sat up slowly, every movement careful and calculated to not make the cramping worse. She shuffled into one of Bucky’s hoodies and padded down the hall, feet making soft thuds against the wood floor. As she passed the kitchen, the faint glow of the TV and low volume of some old black-and-white movie reached her ears.

There he was, curled on the couch, long legs stretched out and a blanket tossed haphazardly over him. His vibranium arm lay across his chest, while the other rested behind his head. His eyes were on the screen but they flicked toward her the second she entered the room.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting up. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feel like it,” Y/N muttered, shuffling toward him. “I woke up with cramps and you weren’t there to cuddle me through the suffering.”

Bucky’s face softened, guilt flitting through his expression as he held out his arms. “I couldn’t sleep. Didn’t wanna wake you. Come here.”

Kaydee didn’t hesitate. She shuffled over and sank onto the couch beside him, tucking herself close. Bucky immediately slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his side. She melted into him, head resting on his chest. His fingers traced lazy, comforting circles on her upper arm while the cool metal of his vibranium hand rested lightly on her knee.

“Warm,” she murmured, nestling her face into his neck.

“You’re warm,” he replied with a sleepy smile. “Also, you’re hogging my hoodie.”

“You gave it to me.”

“Temporarily.”

Y/N hummed, barely lifting her head. “You’re in a t-shirt, Barnes. You clearly weren’t using it.”

“I was gonna change into it later.”

“Mmm, too late now. It’s mine. Forever.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re ruthless. Cramps make you mean.”

“Cramps make me powerful,” she corrected, tilting her head to pout up at him. “Also, dramatic. So you should let me keep cuddling with you and maybe get me chocolate later.”

“Chocolate and cuddles. Got it. You want tea or anything? I could make some.”

“If you leave, I will cry.”

“Alright, alright. We’re staying here,” he said, rearranging the blanket so that it was laying on top of both of them. “You know, I used to take bullets better than you’re taking this cramp.”

“Yeah? Well, I’d like to see you bleed for five days and not cry about it.”

Bucky whistled low under his breath. “Touché.”

She grinned tiredly. “You’re comfy. Couch cuddles might be better than bed cuddles.”

“That’s betrayal.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“Says the girl who threatened to cry if I stood up.”

Y/N chuckled and playfully smacked his chest. “Shh. I’m trying to be miserable and in love at the same time.”

“Well,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it gently behind her ear, “at least you’re not doing it alone.”

Her heart melted at the way he looked at her. She leaned up, brushing a kiss against his lips. 

“Thanks for being my favorite heating pad.”

He smirked, tightening his arms around her. “Anytime, babe. Now rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, they melted into the quiet hum of the TV and each other’s warmth, the pain dulling just a little in the comfort of love and lazy morning cuddles.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Cape Crusader - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings, all the thunderbolts are in this one! Funny banter/flirting

Thanks for all the love <3

Inside Club Phantom, Madripoor’s most infamous underground den, the air was thick with smoke, sweat, and bass. Neon lights painted everything in sickly greens and deep purples. Bodies moved to the beat in a haze of decadence. It was exactly the kind of place where people disappeared — or got found.

Y/N moved through the crowd with practiced ease, eyes scanning the shifting faces. Behind her, Bucky Barnes walked like a man ready for a fight. John Walker trailed just off her right flank, cocky and alert, his jaw set in that square way that always screamed “American trying not to look like an American.”

They’d come for a stolen relic — something ancient, powerful, and reportedly small enough to fit in a backpack. It had been taken from a S.H.I.E.L.D. vault and was now circulating in Madripoor’s underworld. Intel had led them to a mid-tier fixer named Kenji, a slick operator who spent more time in VIP lounges than dark alleys.

“Are you sure he’s here?” Bucky asked over the music, leaning in close.

Y/N nodded. “He never misses a Saturday night. Like church — but worse.”

Walker chuckled. “My kind of guy.”

They spotted Kenji slipping into a booth flanked by two guards. Y/N didn’t hesitate. She moved, and the others followed.

She tugged down the hem of her sparkly silver dress — again — not that it helped. It was the kind of dress that glittered unapologetically, like it dared someone to look away.

“Well, well,” Kenji purred, his accent smooth as silk. “Tourists. Let me guess — you want to talk about artifacts?”

“We want the one you stole from S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Bucky said flatly.

Walker cracked his knuckles. “We can do this the easy way, or the fun way.”

Kenji turned his eyes to Y/N, giving her a lazy once-over. “What do you think, Y/N? Easy way… or you want to have some fun?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, I’m already having fun.”

He gave a subtle wave.

The guards moved.

What followed was chaos.

Walker launched himself at the nearest one, slamming the man into a glass table with a satisfying crash. Bucky disarmed the second with brutal grace, sending him flying into a wall. Y/N grabbed Kenji and slammed him against the bar. Around them, people screamed and ran for the exit, drinks flying, heels snapping.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

Kenji smirked, clearly enjoying himself despite the blood running from his nose. “You think I’d keep something that valuable on me?”

“Of course you would.”

Four more guards stormed in, guns raised.

Bucky threw a chair at two of them like it was a bar fight from the '50s. The third was immediately tangled up with Walker in what looked like a very personal grudge match.

Y/N couldn’t see the fourth.

Then—behind her—a click.

Too late. A gun raised. Her body tensed as that invisible pressure hit her spine — the cold stillness of imminent danger. She started to turn—

The wall exploded.

The fourth man was launched straight through it, arms flailing, landing in a shattered heap on the club floor.

Y/N spun around, heart hammering.

And there he was.

Bob stood framed by the hole in the wall, looking like he’d just walked off the cover of a graphic novel. His navy and blue Sentry suit gleamed in the strobe light, dust clinging to the gold trim. And the cape — dear god, the cape — fluttered dramatically behind him like it was enchanted.

He grinned. “Miss me?”

Yelena Belova and Ava Starr stepped in behind him, completely unbothered by the destruction. Yelena was chewing gum. Ava looked bored.

Y/N smiled, dragging Kenji back down to the floor with a satisfying thud. “I had it under control.”

Bob stepped over the wreckage, smirking. “Sure you did. Totally. Back turned, gun at your head — classic definition of control.”

She pressed her heel into Kenji’s throat, just enough to get his attention.

Before she could say anything else, Bob tilted his head, eyes dragging slowly down the sequined curve of her dress.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, equal parts amused and stunned.

Y/N glanced down, tugged at the hem again. “It’s called blending in.”

He raised a brow, circling her like he was inspecting a suspicious work of art. “Blending into what exactly? A glitter bomb? A disco ball? A Vegas billboard?”

She glared. “Bold words for a guy who showed up wearing a full cape.”

“It’s not just a cape. It’s a statement.”

“It’s a hazard. I nearly tripped over it last time.”

He smirked. “That was on purpose.”

She snorted. “So is this heel in Kenji’s neck.”

“Just saying,” he added, stepping closer, “you knew I’d be here, and you wore that. You sure you’re not trying to distract me?”

“Would it work?” she teased.

Bob leaned in, voice low. “It’s working.”

Behind them, Yelena groaned. “Can we not do this right now? I’m hungry. This club smells like Axe body spray and regret.”

Ava arched a brow. “Is he the guy?”

“For now,” Bucky grunted, grabbing Kenji by the collar.

Walker shook his head, brushing glass off his jacket. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a quiet mission?”

Bob shrugged, his cape flaring as he did. “You try being quiet when someone’s about to shoot your girlfriend.”

Y/N didn’t even blink. “Still not your girlfriend.”

He grinned. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here saving your life and admiring your... tactical sparkle.”

She rolled her eyes, moving toward the exit. “I dress for me, Bob.”

He fell into step beside her, flashing that insufferable, boyish smile. “And you do it so well. I mean, if the relic doesn’t blind people, your dress might.”

Walker muttered, “Are we seriously doing this right now?”

“No,” Yelena deadpanned. “They do it all the time.”

As the team exited through the side alley, the neon glow of Madripoor wrapped around them like static. Y/N tossed one last glance over her shoulder at the mess they left behind.

“You coming, Cape Crusader?”

Bob followed, cape catching the breeze like it had its own agenda. “Right behind you, Sparkle Punch.”

They disappeared into the night — a tangle of tension, glitter, and destruction.

Just the way Madripoor liked it.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Bucky Barnes Fluff

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

---

The compound was quieter than usual. A little too quiet, if Y/N was being honest.

She wandered the halls with socked feet, her boyfriend's hoodie that hung loosely off her and a determined pout, checking rooms like she was on a mission—which, to be fair, she was. A very important, highly classified mission: Find Bucky Barnes and initiate cuddle protocol.

She hadn’t seen him in over an hour, which was practically a crime in her eyes. Especially after the chaos of the last few weeks. The Thunderbolts mission was over, and for once, things were calm. But Y/N wasn’t about to let her grumpy super-soldier disappear into solitude again. 

She peeked into the kitchen. No Bucky. The living room? Empty. Gym? Not even a dumbbell out of place.

“Hm,” she muttered to herself, arms folded as she paced. “Either he’s hiding from me... or he’s made himself one with the shadows.”

Then it hit her. Of course. His room. Duh.

Y/N tiptoed down the hallway and eased his door open without knocking, already grinning. She found him exactly where she suspected: sprawled on his bed, shirt rumpled, hair a mess, one arm tucked behind his head, resting against his pillow, eyes closed.  

Bucky stirred when he heard the door, but he didn’t look. “If this is Walker again, I swear—”

“Disappointed it’s just me?” Y/N teased, already making her way to the bed.

Bucky slowly opened his eyes, smiling lazily. “Not disappointed. Just bracing myself in case I have to wrestle a guy with taco for a shield.” 

Y/N giggled and climbed onto the bed without hesitation. She straddled his hips, then laid down over him, stomach to stomach, her full weight pressing down onto his chest earning a soft ‘oof’ from him. 

“Comfortable?” Bucky groaned, his voice low and amused, one hand instinctively sliding over her back.

“Mmhmm.” Y/N slipped her hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt, resting them against his warm skin. “Perfect pillow. Bit grumbly and broody, but I make do.”

He huffed a laugh, chest rumbling beneath her. “I’m a damn delight.”

“Sure you are, Barnes,” she replied, smirking against his skin. “You grumbled at a pigeon this morning.”

“It looked at me funny.”

“It’s a bird, babe.”

“A judgmental bird.”

Y/N shook her head and snuggled closer. “Anyway. I was looking everywhere for you.”

“I was here the whole time,” he said, trailing his fingers slowly up and down her spine. “You could’ve just texted.”

“I could have,” she said dramatically. “But where’s the fun in that? Besides, I needed to find you myself. For science.”

He raised a brow. “Science?”

“Yup. I had to confirm that your cuddle levels were still dangerously high. It’s a safety concern, really.”

Bucky chuckled and shifted slightly beneath her so he could tuck her more snugly against him. “You know, you didn’t even ask if I wanted to cuddle.”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. “Do you not want to?”

He stared at her for a beat, deadpan. “I didn’t say that. I just wanted to appear like I had a choice.”

She grinned. “You don’t.”

“That’s what I figured.” He leaned up to kiss her gently, then settled back. “Do you need something or did you just want to lay on top of me?” 

She shook her head and laughed. “Nope. I just wanted to lay on you.”

He smiled, soft and genuine now, as he wrapped both arms fully around her and exhaled. “Well... in that case, I guess I’m yours for the foreseeable future.”

Y/N closed her eyes, fully content. “Good. Because I’m not moving.”

“Even if I have to pee?”

“Too bad. Hold it.”

“Cruel.”

“You love it.”

Bucky sighed in mock defeat and pulled her closer. “Yeah. I really do.”

Y/N could feel the slow rhythm of Bucky’s breathing beneath her cheek, the way his chest rose and fell.  It was stupidly comforting. If she could bottle this feeling and sell it, she’d make a fortune.

She mumbled against his neck, “So... how long do you think we can stay like this before someone comes looking for us?”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully, running his hand lazily through her hair. “I’d say we’ve got maybe ten minutes before Walker busts in here asking if I wanna spar.”

She groaned. “Ugh, no. I’m not moving. If he comes in, I’m throwing a pillow at him.”

“Make it the heavy one,” Bucky said. “The one that feels like it’s stuffed with regret.”

Y/N giggled. “You mean the one with the weird beads inside?”

“Yeah. Weapon-grade throw pillow. Use it wisely.”

They lapsed into a quiet stillness again, her fingers tracing idle shapes across his ribs. It was domestic. It was peaceful. It was… everything she hadn’t known she needed.

“You’re warm,” she murmured.

“You’re clingy,” he shot back, though his tone was too fond to be serious.

“You like it.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

She tilted her head slightly to look up at him, chin resting just beneath his collarbone. “You’re extra soft today, soldier. Did you condition your hair or something?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, pretending to be offended. “Soft? Excuse you—I am rugged. Brooding. Stoic.”

“You’re literally cuddling me like a human teddy bear.”

“Stoic teddy bear,” he clarified. “One with emotional depth.”

Y/N grinned. “I love your emotional depth. Very snuggly.”

He rolled his eyes, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

A knock came at the door. Y/N froze. Bucky didn’t move a muscle.

“Barnes?” a voice called through the door—too chipper to be anyone but Yelena. “Have you seen your girlfriend? She’s been begging me to paint her damn nails. I figured I’d do it to shut her up.”

Y/N whispered against his chest, “Don’t move. Don’t breathe. I am not here.”

Bucky held back a snort, pressing his lips together tightly. “She’s not here,” he called out, entirely unconvincing.

There was a beat of silence.

“I know she’s in there,” Yelena deadpanned.

“No, you don’t,” Y/N called back without lifting her head. “I am but a ghost.”

Yelena sighed. “Tell the ghost this is her one chance if she wants me to do her nails.”

Y/N waved a hand lazily toward the door. “You love me, you’ll offer again.”

There was a grumble, then a quiet, “Whatever.” 

When the footsteps faded down the hall, Y/N melted against Bucky again with a victorious sigh. “Safe.”

He looked down at her, smirking. “You’d rather be with me?”

“Obviously. Snuggles are so much better.”

Bucky shook his head and laughed. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Y/N blinked, then looked up. “Yeah?”

His blue eyes softened, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah. I really do.”

Her heart did a whole somersault, but she tried to play it cool, nestling back into him with a grin.

“Well,” she said, her voice full of mischief, “you’re not getting rid of me now. You said the thing. That’s a binding contract.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I was never planning to.”

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Deal - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings xo

Thanks for all the love! <3

The blanket tucked around Y/N’s shoulders slipped a little, and she reached up to touch the bandage just above her brow, then glanced around the room.

Empty.

Her brows furrowed. The chair beside her bed—where Bob had been sitting before she passed out—was vacant, the throw blanket folded neatly over the backrest. 

A knot of unease curled in her stomach.

Just then, the door opened. Sam stepped inside, holding a tablet in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He paused when he saw her halfway upright.

“Whoa, whoa—easy, sunshine,” he said, crossing the room with that calm, grounding energy only Sam Wilson had. “You took a beam to the head and sprained your wrist trying to dodge it. Doctor P said you need rest.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, waving him off. “Stiff. Not dead.”

Sam arched an eyebrow and handed her the water. “That’s a low bar, but okay.”

She took a sip, then glanced at the empty chair again. “Where’s Bob?”

Sam’s expression softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Observation deck. Hasn’t moved for hours. I think he’s been blaming himself since they wheeled you in here.”

Her heart squeezed. “He didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“I know,” Sam said gently. “But try telling him that.”

She didn’t respond—just slid her legs over the side of the bed with a wince and tugged her hoodie over her pajamas. Sam moved to help, but she waved him off again.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I just need to find him.”

Sam nodded once and stepped aside, watching her head for the door barefoot and determined.

“Tell him to stop being dramatic,” he called after her, though his voice was fond.

She paused at the door and looked back at him with a smirk. “That’s rich coming from Captain Therapy.”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

She turned and kept walking, following that unshakable thread that always pulled her to Bob.

The observation deck was quiet—just the hum of power and the distant flicker of city lights blinking in and out like sleepy stars. Bob stood at the far end, unmoving, barely a silhouette against the glass. His broad shoulders were hunched, arms folded so tightly across his chest it looked like he was holding himself together by force of will alone. He was still in his suit, the navy and gold catching the moonlight in muted waves.

Y/N stepped onto the deck, the door whispering shut behind her. She wore soft pajamas, a blanket still draped around her shoulders, and a fresh line of stitches above her brow.

“You planning on brooding up here all night?” she asked, voice low, teasing—gentle.

Bob didn’t turn. “You should be resting.”

“I was. Got bored. Plus…” She stepped closer, the chill of the glass and night air no match for the cold distance between them. Reaching up, she brushed back a loose strand of his hair, fingers grazing his temple. “Someone’s sulking. And I’m not naming names, but—”

“It’s me,” he murmured, still not meeting her eyes.

“Yup. What’s wrong?”

His jaw flexed, guilt simmering under the surface. “You almost died.”

“I have a sprained wrist and a cut on my forehead, Bob,” she said, voice light. She reached out again, this time laying a hand flat against the center of his back. His muscles flinched under her touch.

“You could have died,” he said again, slower this time. “That beam was coming down and I—” his voice cracked, rough with self-loathing— “I saw it, and I froze. I hesitated because I was holding back. Because I was afraid the Void might break loose.”

Y/N circled around to face him, stepping into his space until there was nowhere else for him to look but at her.

“Bob,” she said softly, hands sliding up to his shoulders. “There were ten different fires to put out. You saved six people in thirty seconds. You were incredible.”

“I wasn’t fast enough for you,” he whispered, barely audible.

Her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the suit's fabric, grounding him.

“You were.” She smiled gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t fail me.”

Finally, he looked at her—really looked—and something behind his eyes broke open. Fear. Guilt. Love. All tangled together in a storm only he could feel.

“I can’t lose you,” he rasped, voice raw. “Not you. Not because of something I could’ve stopped. You’re the only thing that makes me feel like I’m still me.”

Her heart cracked open right alongside him.

She reached up, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing just under his eye. “You didn’t freeze. You made a choice. You saved everyone, Bob. And I got a cool scar and some attention out of it. Honestly? I’m not mad about it.”

That got a flicker of a smile, broken and grateful.

“And you know,” she added, “I’m totally using it for dramatic storytelling later. You’ll look very heroic in all of them.”

His chest shook with a quiet breath that might’ve been a laugh—or a sob. Maybe both.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered.

“Good,” she teased gently, pulling his face down until their foreheads touched. “Now we’re even. Because every time you charge into danger like you’re invincible, I forget how to breathe.”

That did it. He broke.

His arms wrapped around her with a desperation that stole her breath—one hand buried in her hair, the other wrapped tight around her back like she’d vanish if he let go. She held on just as hard, pulling him close enough to feel the thunder of his heart against hers. She kissed the corner of his mouth, then again, slower, right over his lips—soft, reassuring, real.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere,” he mumbled into her shoulder, voice muffled by her skin.

“Not planning on it,” she whispered, her smile against his temple. “And next time something almost falls on me, I’ll scream your name like a damsel in distress so you can swoop in like the golden god you are.”

That earned a breathy laugh, finally, and a smile that reached his eyes.

“Okay,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face like she was the most fragile, precious thing he’d ever seen. “Deal.”

They stood there for a long moment, tangled together beneath the moonlight, two broken things holding each other whole again.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Lady Radiance - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings, jealous/protective Bob xo

Thanks for all the love! <3

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Sam strode in first, followed by Joaquin Torres, and a surprise guest—none other than Thor himself, all golden armor, broad shoulders, and windswept hair, commanding the room with his sheer size and godly presence.

Y/N looked up from where she was lounging on the couch between Bob and Yelena, a half-finished drink in hand. Her eyes crinkled as she spotted Sam. “Brought guests?”

Sam grinned as he crossed the room. “Figured it was time to do some introductions.” He motioned casually behind him. “You’ve met Joaquin, and this—well, this is our resident thunder god.”

Thor stepped forward with all the confidence of someone who had stopped alien invasions and bench-pressed planets. His eyes landed on Y/N like a spotlight. “And who might you be, Lady Radiance?” he asked, voice deep and silky with a grin that could shatter worlds.

Bob sat up a little straighter on the couch, hand tightening on the armrest.

Y/N chuckled, rising smoothly to her feet. “Y/N. No title necessary.”

Thor arched an eyebrow as if offended by the idea. “A shame. One such as you should be worshipped, not left untitled.” He took her hand in his large one and brushed a slow, dramatic kiss across her knuckles.

Bob was on his feet so fast the couch cushions shifted.

Yelena muttered without looking up from her phone, “Here we go.”

Sam tilted his head toward Bob and let out a low, “Oh boy.”

Before Y/N could gently pull her hand back, Bob stepped in between her and Thor—not aggressive, but the message was crystal clear. His shoulders were squared, his body language radiating that rare, focused intensity that only came out when it really mattered.

“Easy there, big guy,” Bob said, his voice calm but tight.

Thor blinked at him in amusement. He was a full head taller, but that didn’t seem to shake Bob in the slightest. “And you are…?”

“Bob,” he said flatly. “And Lady Radiance is already spoken for.”

Y/N crossed her arms and tilted her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she watched the exchange.

Thor glanced between the two of them. Y/N’s small frame was barely visible behind Bob, who now stood like an immovable wall between her and a literal god. “Is that so?” Thor said, a teasing lilt in his tone.

Y/N’s hand landed on Bob’s shoulder. “Easy, hotshot,” she said softly, the affection in her voice immediate and grounding.

Bob didn’t budge, not right away. He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were locked on Thor’s, protective instinct written all over his expression—like he’d throw himself into the sun before letting anyone so much as flirt with her.

Y/N stepped out from behind him, pressing her palm gently against his chest and curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt to bring him back to her.

“Bob,” she whispered, catching his eyes. “It’s okay.”

From the couch, Yelena smirked. “You’re not the only god on the team anymore, Thor.” She winked without looking up. “I think you two should fight so we can find out who the strongest Avenger is.”

Y/N shot her a look. “Yelena—”

But she only shrugged. “What? I’d put money on Bob. Quiet ones always snap.”

Y/N turned her eyes back to the two men. “As much as I’d love to see that matchup,” she said, smirking again, “we just got this place looking nice again. If you two get blood on the new floors, Valentina will actually kill you.”

Bob finally let out a breath through his nose, just enough of the tension draining from his frame that his shoulders lowered a fraction. Thor let out a loud, booming laugh.

“She’s fierce,” Thor said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I see why you guard her like a dragon’s hoard.”

Y/N grinned and tilted her head up at Bob. “He doesn’t have to guard me. He just wants to.”

Bob wrapped his arm around her waist then, pulling her in without needing to say a word. He kissed her temple with a quiet intensity that made her heart flutter.

“I do,” he murmured against her skin.

Thor clapped Bob on the shoulder, a hearty thud that nearly knocked him off balance. “Then you’ve chosen well, Bob of Earth.”

Yelena shook her head. “Damn, I really wanted to see them fight.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly and turned into Bob’s side, leaning close until her lips were near his ear. “You were really about to fight the God of Thunder for me?” she whispered, voice warm and teasing.

Her arms slipped around his neck as she rose up on her toes, pressing her forehead gently to his.

Bob gave a quiet huff of laughter, his hands settling firmly around her waist like she was something priceless he wasn’t letting go of. “I’m not going to lie,” he murmured, his voice low and honest, “I was a little nervous. He’s got lightning. I’ve got… new powers I can barely control, and anxiety.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nose brushing his. “You have way more than that. You’ve got heart. Loyalty. Ridiculously good abs.”

He flushed, smiling sheepishly before leaning in as if drawn by gravity. “And you,” he said simply.

She kissed him then, soft and lingering, like the rest of the room had melted away. One of his hands slid up, cupping her cheek with that same gentle admiration he always gave her—like she was something rare, and he still couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“Alright, alright!” Yelena called from the couch, lobbing a pillow at them with pinpoint accuracy. “Can you not make out in the common area? Some of us are emotionally repressed and trying to watch The Great British Bake Off.”

Y/N pulled away with a laugh, forehead still resting against Bob’s. He chuckled too, their eyes meeting like the world hadn’t just paused for a moment.

And just like that, they both started laughing—soft, warm, shared—and didn’t stop.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Bucky Barnes Smut

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Prompt: It had been weeks since Y/N and Bucky had some proper alone time, until they find themselves having a training session that takes a steamy turn.

Warnings: Sex, 18+ only, minors do not engage

---

The sun had barely started to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Thunderbolts’ empty training field. The others were long gone—off to debrief or drown the mission in something strong. But Bucky and Y/N lingered behind, their blood still humming with adrenaline and something deeper. Unresolved tension. Too much time apart. Not enough time alone. And that look she kept giving him.

Y/N smirked, circling her boyfriend with a lazy grace that didn’t fool him for a second. “What’s the matter, Barnes? You slowing down in your old age?”

Bucky rolled his shoulders, a quiet laugh rumbling from his chest. “You really want to go there?”

She grinned. “Only if he bites.”

That was all it took.

In a flash, Bucky lunged—not with rage, but with purpose—and Y/N barely dodged, a laugh tumbling from her lips as they fell into the rhythm of familiar sparring. Punches dodged, kicks blocked, bodies close. Closer than they needed to be. Every movement loaded with something unspoken.

Y/N aimed a kick at his side, but Bucky caught her leg mid-air, twisting her off balance and using his body weight to press her down onto the mat beneath them. He pinned her, straddling her hips with ease, metal hand braced beside her head as he hovered above her, eyes locked on hers.

“Gotcha,” he breathed, smug and breathless.

She glared playfully up at him, arms pinned under his grip. “You cheating bastard.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose along hers, lips barely a whisper away. “Call it strategy.”

Y/N bucked her hips in defiance, but he only pressed down harder, not enough to hurt—just enough to keep her exactly where he wanted her.

“Wanna keep fighting?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Her eyes flicked to his mouth. “Only if you make it worth my while.”

Bucky didn’t waste another second. He crashed his mouth against hers, kissing her like he’d been starved for it—and maybe he had. Weeks of missions, late-night tension, too many near-misses. Now all of it burned between their bodies, set alight the moment their lips met.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, arching up against him as her fingers curled in the hem of his tight black t-shirt, tugging at it until he broke away long enough to pull it over his head. Her hands roamed his chest, nails grazing old scars, while he rocked his hips against hers with a groan.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he muttered against her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses there. “All those looks, all that teasing…”

“Yeah?” she gasped, thighs spreading to cradle his body tighter. “You gonna do something about it?”

He growled against her skin. “Oh, I’m gonna do everything about it.”

She writhed beneath him as he slid one hand under her top, pushing it up to expose her chest before replacing fabric with his mouth—sucking, licking, biting until she whimpered and tugged at his belt in desperation.

“Need you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Bucky, please—”

That broke what little restraint he had left. He tore off the rest of her clothes with single-minded urgency, kissing her like a man on fire between every gasp and groan. When she was bare beneath him, he sat up just enough to take her in—chest heaving, blue eyes glazed with lust.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped.

“Then take me already,” she hissed, hooking her legs around his waist.

He did.

HIs fingers worked fast and frantic as he unbuckled his belt with a curse under his breath. He shoved his pants and boxers down in one motion, not caring where they landed, revealing himself fully to her. His body hovered over hers, broad and flushed with heat, chest rising in ragged breaths as he looked down at her—already spread out, lips parted, eyes dark with need.

Bucky wrapped one hand around the back of her thigh and dragged her closer, until she was perfectly aligned beneath him. His other hand steadied himself as he leaned in, mouth brushing hers. “You ready for me?” he whispered. 

She answered by lifting her hips, hooking her legs around his waist, pulling him in.

Then, with one deep thrust, he sank into her—and they both cried out, voices overlapping in a raw symphony of pleasure. Her back arched off the mat, his head dropped to her shoulder, lips pressing into her skin like he needed something to anchor him.

It was fast, hot, desperate—weeks of tension snapping all at once.

He moved over her with force and purpose, hips snapping into hers, every stroke deep and demanding. His body pressed tight against hers, bare chest slick with sweat, groaning every time she clenched around him. His hands gripped her hips, like he was afraid she’d slip away.

Her nails dragged red trails down his back, her breath broken and gasping. “Harder—God, Bucky—don’t stop.”

His answer was a growl low in his throat. “I’m not stopping. Not until you fall apart for me.”

Their bodies slammed together with an urgency that bordered on chaos, neither of them holding back. His mouth found hers again—kissing her hard, teeth clashing, then trailing lower, biting at her throat, collarbone, the curve of her breast. He worshipped her with teeth and tongue and desperation.

Then his metal hand slipped between them, fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and pressing tight, fast circles that made her hips jerk and her moans catch.

“Fuck—yes—” Y/N gasped, voice strained, thighs tightening around him.

“That’s it, babe,” he rasped, watching her fall apart beneath him, his voice rough. “Come for me.”

She shattered, her cry sharp, head thrown back as her body spasmed around him. Her muscles clenched tight, pulling him in even deeper—and he couldn't hold back any longer.

Bucky groaned her name into her neck, his rhythm stuttering, hips jerking as he spilled into her. He clung to her, chest pressed against hers, sweat-slick and trembling as he rode out the last wave of release.

They collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and satisfaction.

Bucky rolled off her, laying on the mat next to her. “You good?”

Y/N laughed breathlessly. “We are definitely gonna have to sanitize this mat.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her softly now. “Still worth it.”

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Comfy Cozy - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings xo

Thanks for all the love! <3

Avengers Tower was unusually still—the kind of quiet that only came late at night, when the city’s hum faded into a distant murmur and most of the team had long since turned in.

She sat curled up in the corner of the couch in the common room, a thick knit blanket draped over her legs and a worn paperback resting in her hands. The book had been her escape for the evening—something calm and grounding, far removed from the chaos their world often brought.

Bob Reynolds wandered the room like a restless shadow. He didn’t know what had drawn him out of bed—well, that wasn’t true. He did know. The Void was stirring again. Whispering. Pressing against the corners of his mind like a storm trying to seep through cracks in a windowpane.

He stopped when he saw her.

She looked peaceful, completely absorbed in the pages of her book, brow faintly furrowed in thought. The soft light from a nearby lamp lit her face in gold. Bob felt the tension in his chest ease just a little.

He crossed the room slowly. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that broke the silence without shattering it.

She glanced up, surprised to find him there but not at all displeased. “I could ask you the same.”

Bob offered a small smile and nodded toward the spot beside her. “Mind if I sit?”

She shifted, making room. “Not at all.”

He sank onto the couch, his body still taut with unease, but less so now. Being near her always had a calming effect—like a tether to reality, to the light he kept fighting to hold onto.

“What are you reading?” he asked, leaning just a bit to catch the cover.

She tilted the book slightly so he could see. “One of my favorites—The Hobbit. I figured my brain needed a break from… everything.”

He chuckled softly. “I’ve never read it.”

She turned back to the first page and read aloud, “In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat. It was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

“Are you going to read the whole book to me? Because I could listen to you all night,” he said, adjusting himself and propping his legs on the ottoman.

“If you ask nicely,” she replied with a smile.

For a moment, silence settled again—this time, companionable. She stared down at the book, unmoving. Then, quietly, he turned toward her. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

She gave him a side glance. “Just thinking about what comes next.”

He frowned slightly, not out of worry, but recognition. “Big thoughts for a cozy night.”

She shrugged, slipping her thumb between the pages to mark her place. “I think the quiet makes room for them. When everything stops moving, it’s hard not to wonder what’s waiting around the corner.”

Bob nodded slowly. He knew that feeling all too well. “Yeah. Sometimes the quiet’s worse than the noise.”

A beat passed.

“You know, you think better when you’re comfortable,” he said after a moment, voice low. “My shoulder’s available, if you want it.”

“Bob,” she said softly, smiling. “You can just say you want to cuddle with me. I’ll say yes.”

“Fine.” His cheeks grew warm, but he said softly, “I want to cuddle with you.”

She laughed, the sound soft and warm, then gently reached for his arm, guiding it around her as she nestled closer. Her head found its place against his shoulder, and with a content sigh, she shifted again—stretching her legs out and draping them across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t move, just let it happen, as if he’d been waiting for her to do exactly that. His hand came to rest lightly on her knee, and for the first time that night, everything felt still in the best possible way.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

Her eyes drifted shut. “Yeah. It is.”

Bob wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, cocooned in quiet warmth and the soft flicker of lamplight, but for once he wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of the blanket as her breathing evened out, calm and steady beside him.

“You’re really good at this,” she murmured after a while.

“At what?” he asked, voice low.

“This. Being here. Letting everything feel... safe.”

Bob let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Safe isn’t usually the word people associate with me.”

“Well,” she said, turning her head just slightly to look up at him, “maybe they just don’t know you like I do.”

Her words made something flutter behind his ribs—an unfamiliar softness, a warmth he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. He glanced down at her, eyes catching hers, and everything else—the weight of the Void, the world outside, the chaos always waiting in the wings—just faded.

“You make it easy,” he said quietly.

She smiled, shifting her legs slightly on his lap, toes brushing against the side of his thigh. “I don’t think that’s true,” she teased. “I’m very high maintenance. Just ask Sam.”

Bob smirked. “You’re a menace. But you're my favorite kind.”

A playful glint lit her eyes. “That sounds dangerously close to flirting, Mr. Reynolds.”

He tilted his head, the smile on his face turning lopsided. “Maybe it is.”

“Guess I should warn you,” she said, voice softening, “I tend to flirt back.”

She was so close now, and Bob didn’t need heightened senses to notice the shift in the air—the quiet magnetism of a shared affection finally acknowledged. He lifted a hand, brushing his fingers gently along her cheek before tilting her chin upward to meet his gaze

“Then I’m definitely not stopping,” he said.

And then—slowly, giving her time to pull away—he leaned in. Her breath caught just slightly, but she didn’t move, didn’t look away. Their lips met in a kiss that was gentle, unhurried, warm. A kiss that felt like the start of something real.

When they pulled apart, barely an inch between them, she smiled—soft and a little shy.

“I was hoping you would do that,” she said.

Bob looked at her for a moment, like he was memorizing everything—her eyes, her voice, the way she looked at him.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that,” he said quietly.

She reached up, her fingers brushing his. “Me too.”

And in the silence that followed, there was no doubt—whatever this was, it mattered.

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Late Night Arrival - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

Technically the next part to Over My Head, but can be read on it's own!

Warnings: 18+ / Oral / Sex

You guys have been loving all my Bob content, thank you so much for all the positive feedback!

The rooftop of the Compound was quiet, save for the low hum of cooling Quinjet engines and the whisper of wind that tugged at the edges of the landing pad. Overhead, the sky unfurled in a wide, endless stretch. Below them, the Compound slept. Construction vehicles sat idle, shadows pooled at their feet, and the faint glow from interior windows flickered. 

Y/N stepped off the Quinjet first, her boots striking the metal with a dull, resolute thud. Bob followed close behind, his own steps slower, heavier, like he was giving her space—or maybe bracing himself. He didn’t speak. Just trailed her to the rooftop access door, his presence solid, steady, a quiet shadow at her back.

Neither of them said a word.

Not until she stopped at the doorway, one hand resting on the handle. She turned, expression unreadable, but the slight arch of her brow and the way her arms crossed over her chest made the statement all on its own.

“You know,” she said dryly, “you’re not what I expected when Sam warned me about you.”

Bob folded his arms across his broad chest, brow lifting with amusement. “Let me guess—less finesse, more charm?”

She snorted. “Less brain cells, more muscles.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “Ouch.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It hummed between them like a live wire—taut, electric, with something sharp coiled underneath. 

“You want to know something?” he asked, voice low.

She shifted, leaning back against the concrete wall with a smirk. “I bet you’re going to tell me even if I say no.”

He stepped closer. Just a little. Just enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I could take you right here, right now,” he said, pointing to the very wall she leaned on. “Right against that.”

Her smirk widened—dangerous, slow, all teeth. “That supposed to be a threat? Because it sounds like a great time to me.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice dropped another octave, a dark rasp that shivered along her spine.

“Fucking on the roof,” she murmured, gaze raking over him like a weapon. “Sounds like fun.”

His jaw tensed, sharp and tight. “You’ve got a real mouth on you.”

She tilted her head, unapologetic. “You gonna do something about it?”

A beat of tension cracked the air between them—and then he moved.

One hand fisted the back of her thigh, the other splayed across her ass, pulling her into him like he couldn’t stand the space anymore. His mouth crashed into hers—brutal, searing, all grit and hunger and pent-up frustration. Fingers clawed at fabric, catching on the edges of armor plates. Her hands yanked at his collar, dragging him down, meeting his ferocity with her own.

There was no romance. Just heat and chaos, desperation masquerading as dominance. Their teeth clashed, tongues tangled, both of them battle-worn and raw, their kiss tasting of adrenaline and something darker. 

She kissed him like it was war—deliberate, merciless, until he shoved her harder against the wall, pressing his body flush to hers. She gasped into his mouth, her breath caught on the edge of a moan.

When they finally pulled apart, their chests heaved in unison, foreheads resting together, lips swollen and red.

His mouth dragged along her jaw, down the line of her throat, and then he looked up, voice rough.

“Had to shut you up somehow.”

She grinned, sharp and triumphant, then caught his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently. Her hand slipped between them, trailing down the front of his suit until it rested right where he was already hard for her.

Her voice was nothing but silk and steel. “Looks like I win.”

His breath hitched against her neck as her hand stayed right where it was, palm firm over the bulge in his suit. For a second, he just looked at her—eyes dark and a little bit wild.

“Are we gonna do this now?” he asked, voice thick and strained. “Because I’m growing impatient.”

She arched a brow, the slow curl of her smile doing unspeakable things to him. Her fingers pressed just a little harder, teasing. “Tempting. Really.”

Then she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear as she whispered, “But there are, like, six cameras pointed right at us right now. If exhibitionism’s your thing, be my guest.”

Bob paused—visibly wrestling between the fire raging in him and the idea of the Avengers watching him screw their most powerful asset on the rooftop. He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tight.

“Why don’t you show me your room, then?” he said, his hand still on her hip, fingers twitching with restraint.

She hummed, amused. “Why don’t we just get back on the plane…”

She leaned back so he could see the spark in her eyes, the wicked twist to her mouth.

“…and go somewhere no eyes or ears can follow. Just you, me, and whatever happens next.”

He stared at her for a beat, then he smirked. “Lead the way.”

She turned on her heel, cool and collected like she hadn’t just kissed the breath out of him, and walked back toward the Quinjet with a saunter that was very, very intentional.

He followed, silently vowing that once they were in the air, there’d be no more holding back.

~

The trees surrounded them in silence—tall, dark, ancient things standing like sentinels as the moonlight filtered through the branches. It was quiet here. Still. No cameras. No eyes. No ears. Just the soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of nature, and the sharp, electric tension pulsing between them.

Bob pressed her back against the rough bark of a tree, hands planted on either side of her head, caging her in. His eyes searched hers—heated, hungry, but waiting. Waiting for that last sliver of permission.

She didn’t give it with words.

She hooked a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him in, and kissed him like she meant to ruin him.

That was all it took.

His mouth crushed hers again, his body pinning her to the tree, hips already grinding into hers like he’d been starving for this—for her. She gasped into his mouth, fingers brushing down his chest to his stomach, then he knelt down in front of her. 

She looked down, breath ragged, as he lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder, mouth hot and open against her inner thigh. He didn’t rush—no, he took his damn time. Licked up slowly, deliberately, watching her the whole time until she cursed and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“Don’t tease me,” she snapped.

He smirked. “Not teasing. Memorizing.”

And then he buried his mouth between her legs, groaning like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

She bit her bottom lip, hard, head falling back against the tree as his tongue dragged through her folds, slow and deep, until her knees buckled. One arm braced against the bark, the other still tangled in his hair, she moaned his name, low and raw.

He worked her like he already knew every part of her—alternating pressure, speed, tongue and lips and just enough of his fingers to have her gasping, thighs trembling. Her orgasm hit fast and hard, the tension snapping like a cord pulled too tight, and she cried out, hips bucking against his face.

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes heavy with lust.

“I want you inside of me,” she purred, voice wrecked.

He thrust into her in one hard, perfect motion, and they both groaned at the contact—skin on skin, raw and unfiltered. The tree scraped against her back, rough and grounding, while he drove into her like he couldn’t get deep enough.

He fucked her like he meant it—fast, desperate, hard enough to rattle the air from her lungs. Each thrust sent her higher, pushed her further, her cries echoing in the darkness, and still, he didn’t let up. His mouth found her shoulder, her throat, her lips—biting, kissing, gasping her name like a prayer.

“God, you feel—fuck,” he choked out, forehead dropping to hers.

She grabbed his jaw, forced his gaze back to hers. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And he didn’t.

They came apart together, her nails digging into his back, his teeth biting down on her shoulder as he spilled inside her, both of them trembling, breathless, still pressed against the tree.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just the sound of their breathing, the wind, the forest holding its breath.

Then she smirked, lips brushing his ear. “Told you getting back on the plane was a good idea.”

He laughed, voice wrecked. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

[peterparker-spid3erman]

Bucky Barnes Fluff

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Prompt: After Y/N almost got seriously hurt during a mission, Bucky opens up to Y/N (fluff)

----

With another brutal kick, the Flag Smasher’s boot collided with Y/N’s chest, knocking the wind from her lungs and launching her off the top of the moving truck. The world spun wildly around her, but before the ground could meet her with unforgiving force, a pair of strong arms—one warm and human, the other cool and vibranium—caught her mid-air.

They tumbled through the tall grass, rolling together in a blur of limbs and adrenaline until they finally came to a stop, the momentum spent. Bucky landed above her, his body tense and protective, the weight of him pinning her gently against the earth. His vibranium hand was curled around her waist, fingers splayed possessively, like he still hadn’t registered she was safe.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low, rough from the fight—or maybe from the panic of almost losing her.

Y/N blinked up at him, heart still racing. “Yeah, I’m fine… you’re just really heavy,” she muttered, pressing her hands against his broad, solid chest, half to push him off, half to ground herself in the fact that they were both still breathing.

Bucky groaned and rolled onto his back beside her, flopping onto the grass with a grunt. “You didn’t say that last night when I was on top of you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she turned her head to glare at him, lips twitching. “I hate you.”

A lazy, boyish chuckle escaped him, and before she could retaliate, Sam landed next to them in a swirl of wings and confusion, clearly oblivious to whatever this was between the two of them.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes scanning her quickly for injuries.

Y/N pushed herself up, brushing grass from her clothes. “Never better,” she said with a grin, while Bucky smirked silently behind her.

As Sam checked her over, Bucky stood, brushing off his jacket, his usual scowl softening just slightly as he looked at Y/N. She caught it, of course—she always did—but played it cool, casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she gave Sam a thumbs up.

“I said I’m fine,” she repeated, though her ribs ached and her pride was a little bruised.

“Right,” Sam said slowly, glancing between her and Bucky. “We got our asses handed to us. We need to regroup and figure out a way to take them down…preferably without Walker and his sidekick.”

Y/N shot Bucky a pointed look.

“You need to practice working on your landing.” Bucky deadpanned. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.” 

Y/N scoffed, lightly elbowing him in the side. “You’re lucky you caught me.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t let you fall,” he murmured, voice low enough only she could hear.

The tension that passed between them then was electric—familiar, dangerous, and far too obvious.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Okay, what am I missing here?”

“Nothing!” Y/N chirped too quickly, stepping away from Bucky. “Absolutely nothing.”

Bucky just gave a half-smile, smug and silent.

But as they turned back toward the mission, Y/N felt it—the way Bucky’s fingers brushed hers for just a second. A silent promise. A secret shared.

----

The safe house was quiet, tucked deep in the woods, far from the chaos of the mission. It was small but secure—just three bedrooms, creaky wooden floors, and a fire that crackled softly in the hearth downstairs. Sam had passed out hours ago on the couch, one arm hanging off the side, a half-eaten protein bar still clutched in his hand.

Y/N had tried to sleep. She’d changed into the soft cotton joggers and hoodie she always traveled with, curled under the too-thin blanket, and closed her eyes. But her ribs ached, her mind was too loud, and her body couldn’t quite forget the feeling of falling—or her boyfriend's arms that caught her.

Eventually, she gave up.

She padded barefoot down the dim hallway, quietly so that she didn’t wake Sam up. She did not feel like answering any of his questions as she paused outside Bucky’s door. She listened for any sound of movement before she turned the handle quietly and slipped inside. 

Bucky was stretched out on the bed, the soft cotton of his light blue t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places, his long legs tangled lazily in the sheets. The glow of his phone lit up his face, casting gentle shadows across his jaw. As soon as the door creaked open, he looked up—his dark hair a tousled mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it absentmindedly. His blue eyes found hers instantly, softening with that familiar warmth that never failed to make her breath hitch.

Y/N froze in the doorway, her heart skipping a beat, cheeks blooming with heat like it was the first time all over again. A whole year together, and still, one look from him had her stomach doing somersaults.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice rough from disuse but comforting all the same.

Y/N shook her head, closing the door behind her. “Too much adrenaline. And my side hurts,” she admitted, rubbing her ribs with a wince.

Bucky sat up a little, concern flickering across his features. “Come here.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. The bed dipped as she climbed in beside him, pulling the blanket over her legs before leaning into his side. He shifted easily, letting her settle against his chest, his vibranium arm curling gently around her back.

With a contented sigh, she nestled her head against his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—something clean and comforting—immediately soothing her. Without a word, her fingers sought his, intertwining with an ease that spoke of a thousand quiet moments just like this.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, muffled slightly against the fabric of his shirt.

A low, affectionate chuckle rumbled in his chest, and she felt it beneath her cheek, the sound wrapping around her like a hug. “Good,” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of hers. “Means you’ll stay right here.”

She smiled at that, pressing a little closer.

They sat in silence for a long moment, listening to the wind outside rustle the trees, the faint pop of the fire from the other room. 

Then Bucky spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“I was scared today.”

Y/N blinked, lifting her head slightly to look at him. “You?”

He met her gaze, his eyes unusually open. Vulnerable. “Yeah. When I saw you go over the edge of that truck... I thought I was going to lose it. I’ve never had to worry about someone like that. Not in the middle of a mission.”

Her expression softened as she gently squeezed his hand. “You caught me.”

“I always will,” he said quietly, like a vow.

Y/N swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thanks for worrying.”

“I’m always gonna worry about you, Y/N,” he murmured. “You’re... not just part of the mission anymore.”

Her heart thudded hard at that—but it was a good kind of thud. The kind that told her she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“I guess I’m stuck with you, huh?” she teased, nuzzling back into his chest.

“Damn right you are.”

And in the safety of that quiet room, wrapped in strong arms and steady heartbeats, Y/N finally drifted off to sleep.