#Bucky barnes short

[bandsofmarv]

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

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

Always by your side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bucky who starts a purely platonic physical touch giving friendship with reader… until it turns into more

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡  ｡✭･ﾟ

It starts off so innocently. Bucky just sat really close to you one day and noticed how the touch of your shoulder on his made him tingly all over.

The same happened when your hand brushed his, or you passed close by, and he caught a whiff of your hair - something that reminds him of the feeling he now seeks out when you’re around.

It’s no secret that either of you have been single a long time with basically no prospects for a future relationship, so no one questions when you and him suddenly hang out more.

He invites you over when you ask him if he was okay, and he realized that his day was in fact crappy and that if you offered to talk to him, he’d tell you all about it.

And when you sit on the sofa listening to Bucky talk, your hand instinctively found his and before Bucky knew it, his head was pressed into your shoulder, your nails raking over his scalp releasing a feeling within him, he can only describe as heavenly.

He loves it when you comfort him, and he loves comforting you, somehow knowing that you need this part of your friendship just as much as he does.

So it becomes a regular thing: when the rest of the team returns home to their spouses after a tiring mission, you and Bucky retreat to either one of your apartments under the pretense of not wanting to be alone.

Of course, neither of you planned for it to become so touchy and intimate... no, that would be insane, right?

It’s a normal afternoon for the two of you, hanging out at your place, a movie playing on TV, Bucky’s head buried in your chest as he lays half on top of you and you with your back against the sofa. Your hand rakes over his hair as his are halfway tugged beneath your body, seeking all the warmth he can get.

The physical touch aspect of your relationship has somehow crossed the lines between friends, but neither of you care. It feels too good to be held and protected to stop.

Bucky hasn't felt the caring touch of a partner in decades and you... well, let's just say that all men before Bucky didn't feel the need to express their love through aftercare - not that Bucky is in any way shape or form about to give said aftercare... no, you are just friends. Just. Friends.

Friends who frequently hide their hands in the other's jacket when the cold catches up to them.

Friends who bury their faces in each other's chest and lap like it is the most normal thing a person can do to another.

Friends who somehow always wonder if the other feels that spark ignite whenever they hold each other close.

Bucky feels the sensation when he's practically caging you beneath his upper body of the sofa. He lifts his head as he usually does to see if maybe this time he could magically hear your thoughts.

"What's up?"

He shakes his head. "I just really enjoy this." he mumbles and blushes, and your hand suddenly stops its path along his scalp.

"Me too." you smile and look into his eyes.

normally he'd put his head back, and you'd resume watching the movie, but something is different today.

maybe it's the way his hair looks perfectly tousled by your constant motions, or maybe it's the way he slowly blinks at you like a very comfortable pet.

but you finally find the courage to kiss him.

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[minaminokyoko]

I know nobody cares, but...

Marvel picked MY fucking short story, "Lost Cause," to be the official excerpt for the updated announcement of the Captain America: The Shield of Sam Wilson anthology.

No, really, look: https://www.marvel.com/articles/culture-lifestyle/captain-america-the-shield-of-sam-wilson-features-original-short-stories-excerpt-cover

I'm fucking shocked they picked mine. What a tremendous honor to represent our boy. <3

On the off chance someone cares, info below!

As a Black man in America, Sam Wilson knows he has to be twice as good to get half as much credit. He must be a paragon of virtue for a nation that has mixed feelings towards him. In these thirteen brand-new stories, the all-new Captain America must thwart an insurrectionist plot, travel back in time, foil a racist conspiracy, and save the world over and over again.

As the Falcon, Sam Wilson was the first African American super hero in mainstream comic books. Sam’s trials and tribulations reflect the struggles many Black Americans go through today, as Sam balances fighting supervillains and saving the world with the difficulties of being the first Black Captain America. This action-packed anthology inspired by the Marvel comic book universe, will see Sam team up with familiar friends like Steve Rogers, Redwing and Nomad, while fighting HYDRA, Sabretooth, Kingpin, and other infamous villains.

These are stories of death-defying courage, Black love and self-discovery. These are the stories of a super hero learning what it means to be a symbol. These are the stories of Sam Wilson.

Release date: January 14, 2025

Pre-order now in ebook, hardcover, or audiobook: https://www.amazon.com/Captain-America-Shield-Sam-Wilson/dp/1803363878

And can I pretty please get some notes? PWEASE? Struggling indie black author here, just saying.

[3twindragons]

Let him cook!

[somanywords]

a sketch i'm never going to finish...💖🤍

[fckmebarnes]

I can’t stop thinking about beefy Bucky fingering you with the vibranium hand while the other one is holding your neck

-beefy bucky lover

his vibration hand has a vibrating setting in it and i fucking love writing that in my fics because you can’t tell me otherwise he suggests that feature

and you randomly turn it on one day asking what it’s for and giggling until he has you bent over his knee with the settings turned all the way up with your cunt clenching around him

“that answer your question, doll?” he asks as he’s fucking you through your orgasm on his fingers

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Loyal Protector

(1-1)

Short story # 23

Gifs NOT mine.

Summary - After the whole world has died, you find yourself wandering the wastes with your loyal Captain at your side. And even in death Captain Steve Rogers swears to protect you at all costs.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 10 minutes

Sunlight glimmered off the iconic shield of Captain America, which hung from the dead man's arm like it was an extension of himself. Granted in many ways it was an extension of himself, in life and now even in death it would seem. (Y/n) looked at the reanimated corpse of her husband Captain Steve Rogers. Her heart ached painfully knowing she would never hear his voice again, be held in his strong sturdy arms, or share passionate kisses. Her Steve was gone, he died to buy her time to get away from the hord that had cornered them. Then three nights later she found herself face to face with his reanimated corpse. She'd held her pistol up with shaky hands, knowing she had to protect herself for his sake, or else his death would have been for nothing. Tears streamed down her face, unable to pull the trigger. A sob escaping her as he limped closer towards her, the hiss of his voice clutching at her broken heart, her lungs burning with every gasping breath she took.

Then he did something she never dreamed was possible. His hand pushed away her gun with purpose, placing himself before her, he rest his decaying forehead against her temple. They stayed that way for a short while, each of the growls and grunts escaping him made her jump. But she was to afraid to move away from him, afraid he would tear her apart the way the dead usually did with the living. They stood there like that for what felt like hours to (Y/n), but in reality it had only been a few minutes at best. The sound of shuffling footsteps made (Y/n) tense up, her spine going stiff and her heart hammering as adrenaline started pumping through her veins. The corpse of her late husband growled in dissatisfaction, and he whipped around faster than any reanimated corpse should, roaring in rage at the sight of another of the dead stumbling towards them. The Captain turned with a swiftness, throwing his shield at the intruding dead, the sheer force splitting the corpse in half at the waist. The shield ricochet off of a tree, and he caught it in a single smooth motion, as he did when he was alive. (Y/n) felt her bottom lip tremble, tears threatening to spill once more. He steps in front of her again, horse breath rattling in his failing repertory system. His head tilts a little to the left, and his free hand reaches out for her.

She flinches a little as his rotten fingers brushed her cheek, the touch gentle and uncertain. A sound bubbled from his torn throat, it sounded as if he were trying to speak, but it only managed to startle her. Again he shuffled closer, resting his forehead against her own, forcing her to look into his milky eyes. She wept at the sight of deep emotion swirling in his dead eyes. Her Captain, her Steve was still in there. "Steve." She whispered his name, her voice raw and broken. He made a sound like a purr, his eyes falling shut while he simply held her. She found herself leaning into his touch, finding comfort in knowing that his love for her eclipsed his now base desire to kill and feed. (Y/n) stumbled on a bit of rubble as they wondered the empty streets, and with reflexes no dead man should have, Steve caught her and stood her upright. "Thank you." She murmured softly, a faint smile ghosting her lips at the grunt of acknowledgement he gave in response. A noise from within a nearby building sprung the Captain into action, pulling (Y/n) to stand behind him, his shield held up in defense. A shot rang out from the building, and a bullet ricochet off of the iconic shield, making Steve roar with rage.

The last thing (Y/n) ever expected to see was her old friend Bucky to emerge from the building. His rifle held up and pointed at the Captain, who shifted to further guard (Y/n). "Bucky." She called out, peaking out from behind her deceased husband. The super soldier seemed to freeze at the sight of her, before his gaze hardened on his old pal. "(Y/n)? What are you?- Get away from him!" He tried to reason, his expression turning to near panic when (Y/n) moved to stand in front of Steve. "It's okay." She tried to tell her friend, who looked ready to bolt any second. "He... He won't hurt me." She explained, looking back at her husband who growled at Bucky, ready to defend (Y/n) at a moments notice. "Are you crazy? That's not Steve, not anymore!" Bucky hollered at her, wanting to protect his old pals wife. "He's still in there Buck, he protects me." (Y/n) told him, turning back to Steve, she touched his decaying face. Bucky wanted to shout to her, convenience her to run, but he was stunned into silence when Steve merely leaned into her touch, his glassy eyes closing and a rumble of a purr emanating from his rotten lungs.

"(Y/n) come with me, I have a small group of survivors, I'll keep you safe." Bucky said as he took a small step towards the two, Steve growled in warning, his attention snapping to Bucky, who froze in his tracks. "I don't think that would be safe." She said with a sad smile. "We should... We should let him rest." Bucky tried, flinching at the look of betrayal that flashed in (Y/n)'s eyes. "I can't do that Buck, he's my husband, and I still love him." She hissed at her friend, appalled that he would suggest that they kill Steve. "He's dead (Y/n)." Bucky reasoned. "Steve is still in there Bucky, why else would he keep protecting me?" She argued. "Please (Y/n) we have a compound, it's safe, secure. Let him rest." The soldier wouldn't give up so easily. "I won't leave him, I refuse to loose him." (Y/n) shot back, her agitation setting Steve on edge. The zombie growled deep and threateningly, a warning to Bucky to back off. "I'm staying out here, I don't care how dangerous it is, I won't leave Steve behind." She told her friend, her hand taking a delicate hold of Steve's arm, the one not holding his shield. "Fine... Bring him with you, but please come to the compound." Bucky said, taking a small step towards her. "I don't think that would be safe, not for the others." (Y/n) looked to her husband, knowing that if he thought anyone would be a threat to her, he'd kill them without a second thought.

"We'll make it safe, we'll set up a place away from the others for you. I can't in good faith just leave you out here." Bucky said again stepping closer, his anxiety easing a little, when Steve seemed to accept the distance closing between them. Steve's head turned to observe his wife, seemingly understanding what was going on. "If he remembers you, maybe he remembers me too." Bucky murmured quietly, holding out his metal hand to his old friend, who peered at him with milky eyes. When Bucky reached the pair, he touched the star on his dead friends uniform. A low rumble of noise rattled in the dead soldiers tattered throat, his grip on his shield tightening, though he didn't intend on striking. "If we can convince him, get him adjusted to being near the others, maybe we can make this work." Bucky said, as he let his hand fall away from the Captain. "I think it would be best if we stayed out here." (Y/n) murmured, not wanting anyone to attack Steve. "Fine... Then I'm staying out here with you, both of you." Bucky concluded, with a look of determination in his eyes. "Bucky you don't have to-" She tried telling him, but he cut her off. "Yes I do. If he could speak, Steve would agree with me." He said and (Y/n) glanced to her husband, who did seem to agree with what Bucky was saying. "Okay." She breathed out with a soft sigh.

[becca-e-barnes]

Thinking so much about clingy, mutually possessive, filthy sex and how much I just need that rn

The kind of sex where you and Bucky just can't feel close enough to each other. You physically can't get any closer than you are, his thick cock buried so deep inside you but you still need more of him. He has nothing left to give you and you're glad because if he was any longer, you wouldn't be able to take the rest.

You're panting against his neck, whining out your frustration each time he slides home into your warm, wet body. His own groans are low, rumbling from his throat and hanging in the humid air of the bedroom you share.

"You know I can't fucking resist you. I can't." Bucky moans, grasping one of your wrists, guiding it between your bodies, encouraging you to play with yourself while he fucks you.

"I can't say no to you. Fuck, I'm yours." You hardly hear what he's saying over the obscene, wet sounds of your body accommodating his.

Your fingertips rub against your slick clit and the sensation is almost too much. "You're mine." You whine against his neck, using your free hand to claw at his back, driving him impossibly closer to you.

There's something reassuring about the feeling of his skin on yours. It's hot and sweaty but it's so comforting being naked with him, enjoying the pleasure of each others' bodies. You don't feel vulnerable communicating your pleasure to him; you feel understood.

"I am." He groans, eyes fluttering shut, lost in the way your body clings to him. "All yours. And you're mine, aren't you? My good girl."

It's a relentless build up, each stroke taking you a little further than the last and at some point, the band just has to snap.

"I am." You whine, barely able to manage any more words than that.

"You feel like Heaven. You were made for me. This warm, tight little pussy fits me perfectly." His body still isn't close enough to you, not that there's any way you could physically feel more of him.

"You take me so well, you know that? You take every drop of cum and you still beg me for more. Fuckin' love it." Just the very mention of Bucky pumping his release into you makes your walls flutter, dreaming of the feeling of his thick load shooting into you.

"I can't last like this." You hear him mutter and you're almost glad because you're not far off either. "Can't last when I can see that pretty face." His eyes meet yours and he pulls you in for a kiss that stifles your moans for a few seconds.

"Bucky, please." You groan when he pulls back, rubbing yourself just a little too quickly now that you've gotten desperate.

"Go on sweetheart, let me feel you cum for me." It only takes a few more strokes for your high to take over, pleasure rippling through you in a way that leaves your legs shaking.

You almost miss the start of Bucky's release, given how distracted you are by your own but the unmistakable throbbing of him inside you tells you he's reached his own peak if his moans didn't give it away.

[pencap]

someone once told me there is no demon more frightening     than a good man     who has gone to war.

someone once told me      the only things we get to choose      are a hero's death      or a villain's life.

so they said. so they said. so they say.

but no one ever told me      what happens when a good man       goes to war      and becomes the demon.

but no one ever told me      you can die a hero     and be resurrected     to a villain's afterlife.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

[resident-idiot-simp]

Bucky and Steve running across Logan and meeting Wade and Laura in the process

(x)

Logan was out shopping when he heard a whisper "Lucky James." And smelled familiar scents. It's Barnes and Rogers, he knows immediately his plans for the day are going to be postponed.

He just sighs and walks towards an alley so they can talk without too many onlookers. They stand at the opening of the alley with crossed arms and wide eyes. Logan just puts his arms out to the side as if he's showing off.

"It's been a while." Logan acknowledges.

"A WHILE?!" Rogers half shouts, "How are you not old It's been close to a century?" Barnes asks.

Logan just raised an eyebrow at them, "I could ask you the same thing but I know the answer to that." Logan points out.

"Of course you know the answer everyone knows did they enhance you too?" Rogers asks and Logan shakes his head. "Nah I don't need enhancements I was born this way." Logan says with a shrug.

"Explain." Barnes orders and Logan does. "I'm a mutant."

Barnes and Rogers share a look. "So what are you just slow to age?" Barnes asks. Logan smirks, "Kinda It's more like I have a healing factor the likes of which you've never seen. With a few other things." Logan tacks the last part on like an afterthought.

"What do you mean?" Rogers asks. Logan chuckles to himself, "For all intents and purposes I'm immortal. I was there when the bombs dropped in Japan and I'm still here."

Barnes and Rogers looked shell-shocked.

"I'm twice as old as both of you." Logan adds just because he can.

This seems to break them slightly. "Do you want to get lunch with us so we can catch up?" Barnes asks and Logan shrugs. "If you pay with that Stark money." Logan offers, and they agree.

They go to one of Logan's favorite places Wade had shown him and he takes their normal booth in the corner. The waitresses greet him happily and he smiles and waves back. It's very different from the world he was in and he'd like to keep it that way.

Barnes and Rogers couldn't keep their eyes off him like if they looked way he might just up and disappear. He understood but couldn't really relate.

"H-how have you been what have you been doing?" Rogers asked and what a question to start with. He might as well rip the bandage off now.

"I'm not your Lucky James." He says completely ignoring that question for now. "Also it's Logan now has been for a while."

They stare blankly and he continues.

"The man you served with isn't me he died a while ago. I'm from another universe a far shittier one of my own making. I was brought here as a replacement for the man you knew."

"...what?" Barnes breathed sounding a bit heartbroken.

"It's complicated and I don't know the full story, but you need to understand I'm not the same person you knew. It is most likely that we had the exact same experiences, but you are not my Barnes and Rogers and I am not your Logan."

"What happened to him?" Rogers asked.

"He sacrificed himself to save some kids. He was a hero and a legend to those who knew him." Logan answered.

"And you're not?" Rogers asked, sharp as a tack that one.

"Not in my world. I did a lot of bad things got real mad...lost control...... I'm not like the other Logan my story differs after the X-Men."

"You are an X-man?" Barnes asked and Logan looked away.

"Your Logan was. I am just a disgrace who couldn't accept I needed to get over myself."

Barnes's eyes lit up as he connected dots, "You're Wolverine." Steve's head wipped towards Logan as he also realized.

Logan nodded.

"Well, the question still stands How are you and what have you been doing?" Steve asks and Logan smiles slightly.

"Better, I have a new purpose and shot at life thanks to Wade. I'm doing jobs with the maniac and living a pretty normal life."

"Who's Wade?" Barnes asked with a raised brow. Logan smiles he can't help it. "My fiance. He's the one who brought me here, but that's a long complicated story that I promise isn't that interesting." Logan answered with a shrug.

"You said you did jobs. You want to specify?" Rogers asked and Logan rolled his eyes.

"We work for the TVA which is something I'm not going to get into and normal merc shit." Logan says offhandedly.

Rogers splutters his drink and Barnes looks interested. "Would I know Wade?" Barnes  asks and Logan smirks, "Definitely." They give their orders as the waitress comes and Logan gets a call.

He answers with a surprisingly soft, "Hey kit." That has Barnes and Rogers looking at one another eyes wide.

"Yeah yeah, we're at our favorite place." A pause. "Yeah ok, do you want your usual?" Another pause, "Ok see you in a bit bye."

The waitress raises an eyebrow at Logan, "Does she want her usual?" Logan nods and she scratches something else down before leaving.

"What was that?" They ask at the same time and Logan just smiles. "The main reason your Logan sacrificed himself is coming." He says and he sounds so incredibly fond.

They talk for a while longer until Logan perks up and the super soldiers turn to see what Logan's looking at.

It's a young lady who looks so much like Logan all of the questions they have are answered after just a glance.

"Come here kit." Logan calls his voice seeming to vibrate like a purr. The lady makes her way to the seat next to Logan smiling.

"Hi, papá." She greets her voice vibrating the same way. Logan throws an arm over her shoulder and squeezes before letting her go.

Rogers is trying and failing to speak as Barnes just stares. "This is Laura." Logan introduces and Barnes manages to get himself under control first.

"Nice to meet you Laura you can call me Bucky that's Steve." He sounds only slightly breathy which is impressive. Logan knows full well this is one of the last things they expected.

"I know." She says flatly and Rogers can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him. That's definitely Logan's daughter no doubt about it. Barnes seemed to have a similar reaction but managed to only snicker.

Logan doesn't even hide the shit-eating smile that crosses his face.

"Did Wade follow you?" Logan asked and Laura rolled her eyes. "He said he wouldn't so I give it 30 minutes until he shows up." Logan nods along like he expected this answer.

Barnes seemed to remember what Logan had said about this being the reason they're Logan had sacrificed himself as he looked at her closer.

"You're our Logan's kid." He stated more than asked. Rogers jerked in his seat as he too recalled that. Laura just sighed. Barnes suddenly felt like shit. Logan however didn't seem upset or annoyed at him.

"Yes, but I'm technically a clone. They took his DNA during the Weapons X program. I'm an attempt at recreating the perfect weapon." She said as she gestured at Logan who looked pissed off at the reminder.

There was a lot there that Rogers and Barnes hadn't heard yet none of which sounded good.

"I miss Dad but his sacrifice wasn't in vain. I have another life now a better one just like he wanted." She answered easily. Rogers and Barnes nodded sagely It definitely made them feel better knowing that their friend had sacrificed himself to save his daughter.

"I don't know how much you want to answer but what exactly was Weapons X?" Barnes asked the both of them.

Logan answered, "It was an organization that prays on mutants. It really started with me they tricked me into getting adamantium adhered to my bones before...well...they made me into the perfect weapon and took away my free will."

Laura leaned into him and Logan welcomed it smiling softly at her before continuing, "I was the tenth attempt and the first success. I eventually escaped, But they couldn't let it go so they tried cloning me." He breathed out.

Laura picked up from there, "I'm the 23rd attempt." She answered with a shrug. "Weapons X has been taken down but there's still offshoots that's what got pop."

Logan growled softly. "Fucking Francis." He snarled. Barnes seemed to look like he might be connecting some dots but couldn't quite put the whole picture together.

They were interrupted by the food being delivered. They talk for a while longer about less touchy issues after that, Laura even explaind what it's like in the mansion. That is until a while later when the diner goes silent and Logan and Laura perk up.

Rogers and Barnes reluctantly turn to see Deadpool sans his normal outfit. As he makes his way to the back booth where they are sitting. People he passes scramble out the door behind him.

Most of the waiters and waitresses look nervous, but he pays them no mind as he makes his way over. Rogers and Barnes prepare for a fight. "Peanut Mini, how are we doing?" He chirped.

Laura starts purring, "Pop." She greeted. "Thought you said you weren't going to follow the kit darling?" Logan asked his voice warbling the same way Laura's was.

"And let you two have all the fun? Please!" He rolled his eyes. He then turned and finally looked at the other two men and his eyes went wide.

Logan lunged at him covering his mouth, "Don't you dare scream Wade." He threatened as he pulled him down into the other open chair next to him.

Laura just laughed and Logan glared at her. Eventually, Wade managed to wiggle out of Logan's grasp, "OMG CAPTAIN AMERICA MY HERO!" He cried.

Rogers looked distinctly uncomfortable, "YOU KNEW I WANTED TO BE EXACTLY LIKE YOU WHEN I GREW UP DESPITE THE FACT I AM CANADIAN!" Wade exclaimed excitedly.

Rogers wanted to point out the fact that he ended up the exact opposite of him but didn't. His face however must have conveyed this because Deadpool answered." I KNOW I DIDN'T QUITE MANAGE IT BUT I GOT PRETTY CLOSE!"

Steve went to speak but Bucky was quick to speak over him because he had questions. He had never dared get close to Deadpool he was terrifying but now seemed like a perfect time.

"What do you mean by pretty close? I mean you're known for taking any job with a high enough pay?" He didn't ask rudely just really pointing out a fact in the underground.

Wade turned his attention to him, "Well sure But it's mainly bad people, Hell I'm quite warm-blooded for a merc. Besides when you're the best at what you do you end up taking the dirty jobs." And then as an afterthought tacked on, "And I do like money how else am I supposed to buy cocaine?"

"Al does love her cocaine." Laura agreed and Logan nodded along with that train of thought.

Rogers looked like he might explode and Logan looked lovestruck. The soldiers wondered distinctly what Logan saw in this maniac.

"What do you mean warm-blooded?" Barnes asked.

"Well, sometimes when kids get desperate they come to get help through unorthodox means. Most people don't touch it because the pay isn't good." Deadpool explained easily.

That seemed...actually pretty sweet which was surprising for someone like Deadpool.

"Besides I mainly take hits on drug lords, child traffickers, rapists, murderers, and the other unsavory," Deadpool answers easily and Logan nods at that confirming it.

The conversations continue and surprisingly Deadpool or Wade actually seems... Okay. Logan is enamored with him and it's understandable he has a charm to him if you can get over his...eccentricities.

Laura also clearly loves him and that's enough for them. They plan to have lunch at some later point. They pay and Wade leaves a generous tip...like a couple hundred dollars generous. The waitress seems to know him and thanks him with a smile. And just like that the trio is gone.

Steve and Bucky make their way back to the tower as they try to figure out how to explain the encounter they just had with the other Avengers.

"So where have you been?" Tony asks the moment they appear in the main area. The two share a look, "We met an old friend and caught up."

"Old friend, how old was he 90?" Clint asks from the couch. Bucky chuckles, "Actually he's much older than that. We had no idea though turns out he's a mutant."

Everyone pauses at that and looks over to them all asking them to continue with just a glance.

"Super enhanced healing factor It's as immortal as it sounds." Steve answered.

"Yeah?" Tony asked eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Yeah, but it's complicated and it turns out he has a kid and fiance." Steve answered easily.

"With immortality? that sounds painful." Tony asked seeming haunted at the idea of outliving Pepper and Morgan.

Bucky chuckled, "Funny thing that they're also immortal."

Everyone paused, "How did that happen?" Bruce asked.

"Both are experiments from his DNA." Barnes revealed.

Tony and Bruce shared a look, "Is there any way we can meet them?" Tony asked excitedly.

Bucky and Steve shared a glance, "Well...sure but.." Steve trailed off.

"One of them is Deadpool." Barnes finished.

Natasha and Clint seemed to jump a foot in the air out of shock alone.

"WHAT?!" They both shouted in shock.

(I plan on posting this tomorrow to Ao3)

[femmefatale-tales]

Slut! ( Taylor’s version)

Warnings: so much fluff

Bucky x reader

“In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

“I hate men, I can’t stand them right now. I should’ve never went to the blind date Wanda set me up for, I should’ve known he was gonna be douche” I talked to myself as I was entering the compounds hall.

Not many people were present at the compound everyone was on missions and I tired of men, wanting to rant to my friends but since they weren’t present I was just talking to myself.

I plopped myself on the couch just staring at the ceiling. “I hate him, I hate men. I can’t even call him a man, he’s still a boy” I said to myself.

“Hey doll”, a raspy gorgeous familiar voice called me out of my trance.

Bucky.

I turned on my stomach on the couch and looked at him as he sat opposite to me on a chair looking as gorgeous as ever even with his bed hair.

“Were you talking to yourself just now?” I cringed.

“Well Wanda and Nat both are on a mission so, yeah I was kinda ranting to myself” I said smiling seeing his smile.

“You know, you can always rant to me” he spoke after a bit of a pause.

God, he was sooo…….

“Bucky I can’t rant to you about how much I hate men” I chuckled.

“Why not? I mean understand there are some douches in the world. My sister always talked with me about this stuff” he joked.

…..distracting with his pretty smile and that black sweaters hugging his biceps just enough to stop my breaths.

“Really? Are you sure?” I questioned.

“Yes doll” he assured.

“Okayyyy. Um so Wanda set me up on a blind date and she was so convincing, I couldn’t say no to her. So I went to the date today and he was 40 minutes LATE!!. And then I couldn’t even tell a bit about myself, I’m sure he might not even know my name. He was talking about himself the whole night, never pulled my chair, never walked me home which I’m kinda glad for but he wasn’t a idk he jus-

Wasn’t you.

“Wasn’t a gentleman?” Bucky finished my sentence and my heart couldn’t have beated more faster I thought.

“ yes” I spoke breathless a bit.

Did my heart always beat so fast near Bucky?.

“Doll, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve more than this”

You?

“Bucky, gentlemen like you don’t exist anymore” I scoffed.

In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.

“Im sure they do you, doll. Im sure there is a gentleman for you” he reasoned.

“Maybe”

“Im sure”

“You promise?” I joked as I stood up to leave wishing he would stop me and ask to be my gentleman.

“Yes”

“Thank you” I said as I left.

He smiled, killing my heart.

“Got love struck, went straight to my head”

“I told you sam, don’t take that cup” I heard Bucky’s voice while I entered the kitchen rubbing my eyes from woken up so early.

“God! Fine!” Sam semi shouted frustrated.

I winced.

“Why are you guys yelling at 8 in the morning???” I said

“Sorry doll” Bucky looked away a bit like he didn’t want me here.

“It’s all his fault” Sam argued.

I looked at Sam, a bit confused.

“For some reason he’s not letting me have this cup for coffee yet he’s not using it too” he complained and Bucky winced.

I was still confused and a bit hurt seeing Bucky ignore me.

“What cup??” I questioned.

“This red one” he showed me.

I couldn’t be more surprised to see my own new cup I brought the other day.

Bucky was not letting him drink in that cup cause it’s mine? Does he even know? Or is he just messing with Sam?

My head felt a bit fuzzy.

“Um that’s my cup” I confirmed trying not to smile but I knew the blush was creeping up in my cheeks.

A realisation dawned on sam’s face as he spoke “Oh it is…..”

He started chuckling

“We’ll enjoy your cup DOLL” he exasperated.

But I couldn’t stop looking at Bucky and never realised Sam left.

Bucky poured coffee in my cup.

He walked towards me to hand me the cup with a sheepish smile on his face.

I couldn’t breath.

“I remember you said your day always goes bad when you don’t have your cup sooo..” he handed me the coffee.

Oh god.

“Enjoy your coffee doll” he whispered in my ear.

And I, got love struck, went straight to my head.

Got love sick all over my bed.

“My head hurts” I stated as I layed on my bed.

Wanda and Nat laying besides me. It was the peak of girls night and I couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky, it was making my head hurt and the alcohol in my system didn’t help.

“I like him so much, I feel sick” I said.

I told them everything that happened between me and Bucky and how I was starting to catch feelings.

“Tell him then” nat said and Wanda hummed in agreement.

“I can’t, he sees my as a friend. He won’t like me back”

No one responded.

I looked at them and they had fallen asleep.

I kept thinking about him.

And just like that, the more I thought about him…

I got love sick all over my bed.

I never slept that night.

“Love to think you’ll never forget. We’ll pay the price I guess”

“Tony! Why is tonight’s party a Date party??? Why is a date compulsory?” I complained.

“Let me guess, you don’t have one?” He said smugly.

Yes.

“No, I do” I lied.

“Then bring him”

That asshole.

I left.

Did Bucky have a date? Was he going? Will he ask why I didn’t come? Will he even remember?

I- love to think he’ll never forget.

I didn’t see him coming when I bumped into him.

“Hey doll” he smiled.

I looked up. Swallowing the words on tongue.

“Hey” I said as I backed up a bit for my own sanity.

“You going to the party tonight?”

He asked and my heart jumped.

“No, not really. I don’t have a date”

“Really?”

“Um yeah” I said embarrassed.

“Come with me then” I looked at him wide eyed suprised, my throat dry.

“What?”

“Come with me doll” he repeated smiling.

“Um didn’t tony say “no teammates as dates” in the invitation?” I asked breathless.

“We’ll pay the price, I guess” he shrugged.

“I’ll get ready then” I smiled like I had never ever felt happiness before.

“Me too, gotta get ready for my lady” he kissed my cheek and left.

I was frozen on spot. But I ran to my room as soon as I was out of my trance. Giggling like a school girl.

“But if I’m all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us. And if they call me a slut, You know it might be worth it for once.

I was scared. Was I dressed to slutty? Is this too much? What if Bucky doesn’t like?

That’s all I thought while I walked to his room in a black dress I thought looked too slutty.

The dress is was gorgeous but something got into my head.

I knocked on his door. What if he thinks I’m a slut? What if he thinks I’m stupid to ask hi-

He opened the door. In all his glory wearing a white shirt tucked in black pants, with his hair slick back and I forgot everything.

“Hey, gorgeous” he said.

I couldn’t comprehend that HE called me gorgeous.

“Hey” I say sheepishly looking up at him.

“You look breathtaking” he complimented making me breathless again.

“You think so?” I questioned.

“Doll, I have never seen someone as gorgeous and beautiful as you” he confessed.

I couldn’t believe him.

“Bucky, you’ve seen so many woman in you life, don’t lie”

“That’s right I have, so shouldn’t it speak volumes when I say you are the most gorgeous and beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?” He tucked my chin upwards making me look at him.

I got so lost in his eyes.

“What if people look at us weird?” I asked.

“If you’re all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us” he smiled looking at me, still so close as ever.

I couldn’t help but smile looking at him.

“What if people think the dress is too slutty? What if they call me a slut ?” I questioned again.

“Then we won’t leave until I punch them in the face, and who cares about people. I don’t think the dress is slutty, You look perfect” he replied and reassured me again.

He’s right. Why would I care about others with him by my side. Who cares right?

Right.

“Let’s go doll” he took his blazer.

“I’m ready for our date” he stated smiling as he took my hand in his and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“Bucky” I stoped at the door.

“Yes?”

“I want to tell you, I really enjoyed tonight incase I forget later, And if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once” I told him smiling my biggest.

He kissed me, on the lips this time.

“But I’ll still punch anyone in face who does” he said as he held my flushed smiley face against his breathless smiley face.

[espinosaurusrexex]

You try to find Bucky a date but he only has eyes for you

a/n: playful Bucky and "clueless" reader are my new fave

word count: ~800

warnings: fun fluff, teeny bit angst

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Do you have any preferences for a partner?” You sat next to Bucky on the sofa in the common room, determined to find the perfect date for him upon request from Sam.

“Well, I’m very particular when it comes to my type.” Bucky clasped his hands in his lap as he eyed you opening your notes app. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of dating anyone. Well, anyone that wasn’t you to be clear. There was a reason he’d yet to ask anyone out since working here. The same reason he chose to entertain your attempt to set him up. He liked spending time with you. 

“Particular is good. More details mean I can find the perfect person for you.” You beamed at him and Bucky cursed under his breath when his heart did the somersault thing. 

Then he decided to shrug it off. “If you think so.”

Seemingly nonchalant, he watched you prepare some bullet points on your phone, itching to reach out and smack the thing from your grasp so you could hold his hand instead. 

“I am the perfect matchmaker, Bucky. You should be glad I’m helping you. The amount of feedback I’m given for my relationship expertise is unmatched.”

“Think I should check your references, doll,” Bucky smirked. “Cause you never once went on a date since I’ve been here.”

You stared at him blankly and Bucky took the opportunity to look at your lips. And just as he suspected, they looked perfectly kissable today.

“Coaches don’t play, Bucky.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, making Bucky chuckle. 

“Okay now, favorite hair color?”

“I do enjoy a nice y/h/c,” Bucky answered immediately. He knew you’d not let this go, so he might as well play into it. He knew exactly who his type was, so the questions shouldn’t be too hard. 

“Preferred height?” You typed away and Bucky stood and held up his hand to the spot he knew your head ended when you stood next to him. “Abooooout this tall.” 

You glanced at him swiftly, nodding and typing the info like a machine. Bucky chuckled again. You were so invested, he could probably say your name as his preferred one in a partner and you’d write it down without question. 

“Perfect eye color?” 

“Y/e/c.” You froze in your tracks for a second and then you proceeded to type. 

“Wait,” Bucky said, grabbing your face with his metal hand and looking into your eyes with furrowed brows. “Y/e/c with those beautiful speck in ‘em. That’s what I like...”

He watched as your pupils switched between his and Bucky wondered if you’d finally caught on. He wasn’t trying to hide it, after all. However, all he got was another moment of intimate eye contact before your jaw slightly pressed against his hand with the next question tumbling out of you.

“Preferred occupation?” There was the hint of a smile on your lips, and Bucky couldn’t have missed it. Maybe you were even wittier than he thought you to be. 

“Hmmm....” He tabbed his chin now embracing the game you’d invited him into. “I’d die for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” He let go of your face. “Maybe an avenger even - I think that would be perfect for me.”

Bucky turned back slightly, now watching you out of the corner of his eye, heart hammering in his chest yet again. Your fingers typed furiously on that phone of yours and his hand began to sweat. It was fun while it lasted, now he’d have to go back to serious. 

“Bucky-“ his heart dropped when you whispered his name as you watched your notes. But then you put your phone down and grabbed his hands. God, this was worse. You’d let him down easy - somehow he wanted you to be clueless again. “I think I may have the perfect candidate for you.” 

That’s when he finally found the courage to look at you again. Firstly at your hands which were gently wrapped around his and then your face, where big eyes were watching him from below. 

His chest deflated when he saw the unreadable expression in your eyes. “You don’t have to-“

Bucky didn’t get to finish his sentence because warm pillowy lips were pressed to his and catapulted him into a state of utter shock and disbelief. After a few seconds of freeze mode, your fingers squeezed his gently, as a reminder that this was truly happening. And before any more time could have gone to waste, Bucky’s arms wrapped around you with an urgency that had settled deep in his bones. Maybe you weren’t so clueless after all...

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[3twindragons]

[Tries to stay calm but loses shit. Here we go again]

[somanywords]

Some things stay the same. 🌾

A double header for @stucky-week day 3: Shared Life Experiences & Naps.  

[lanassgirlll]

Love and Pain

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story about love, loss and a second chance.

Warnings: substance abuse, miscarriage, mental health struggles, emotional distress, angst(let me know if I am missing any)

AN: This story may be triggering for some people so please proceed with caution!

You and Bucky had been together for two years. You weren’t an Avenger or anything remotely close to that. You were just a kindergarten teacher, who loved her quiet life. Your days were filled with laughter from your students, your evenings spent with the man you loved, in the cozy apartment you shared.

The two of you had built a life together - a mix of his stoic practicality and your vibrant warmth. The apartment reflected that: his sparse military mementos were softened by your touches - art from your students, soft throw blankets, mismatched photo frames. For a time, it felt perfect.

Until it didn’t.

The change wasn’t sudden, not at first.

It was the subtle shifts in his behavior that you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore.

Bucky had always been a soldier, in one way or another. You knew that. You understood the demands of his work, the weight of his responsibility as an Avenger. But it wasn’t just the missions themselves that were wearing on you anymore. It was the way they’d taken over his life - and in turn, yours.

At first, it was just a few days at a time. A mission here or there, where he’d be gone for a week or so, and you’d try to fill the gap with work, friends, hobbies, whatever you could. He’d call, send the occasional text, and when he came home, you’d throw yourself into making the most of the time you had together. But now.. now it was different.

He’d been gone for weeks - sometimes over a month - and there had been nothing. No calls. No texts. It was always the same story when he came back: "The mission ran longer than expected," or "We had to stay off the grid." He was always apologetic when he finally resurfaced, but the excuses felt hollow now. It was as if you had become an afterthought in his chaotic life, a person he’d get back to when he had a spare moment.

You tried to be understanding. You knew what he did wasn’t easy. You knew the stakes were high, that lives were on the line, that his work as an Avenger was something he couldn’t just walk away from. But the loneliness was unbearable.

It wasn’t just the silence when he was gone - it was the absence of him when he was home, too. Even when he returned, it felt like he was still somewhere else. He’d walk through the door with that tired look in his eyes, like he hadn’t seen a decent night's sleep in ages, and he’d settle into his old routine: training, reading through mission reports, checking in with the team. He was physically there, but emotionally? You might as well have been alone.

Some days, you felt like you didn’t even know the man you were living with anymore.

You would wait, and wait. For him to come home. For him to talk to you. For him to show up in the way he used to. And when he did return, you'd try to be the same woman you were before - eager to make him dinner, excited to talk about your day, hoping that maybe tonight he’d want to sit down with you, to hold you, to laugh like you used to.

But there was always something in his eyes - a faraway look. An urgency. An undercurrent of somewhere else, someone else. Every time he left again, you felt it. His absence didn't just physically separate you, it chipped away at something inside you, too.

Tonight, Bucky had just returned after being gone for over three weeks. You’d stayed up late, waiting for him. The clock on the wall ticked away, each passing second heavier than the last.

When the door finally opened, you didn’t feel the usual rush of excitement you once had. You didn’t feel the familiar warmth in your chest at the sight of him. Instead, there was just a hollow ache.

“Hey”, he said quietly, dragging his duffel bag inside, looking exhausted as always. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired, and his body language was stiff as he stood there in the doorway.

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe a hug, maybe even just the smallest hint of affection. Something. Instead, you remained seated on the couch, staring at him, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you.

“You okay?”, Bucky asked, as if he didn’t already know. He’d been gone for too long. How could he not know?

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. “I’m fine”, you said, but the words felt empty as they left your mouth. You weren't fine, but then again, you hadn’t been in weeks. Maybe months. And the more you tried to convince yourself you were okay, the more you realized how much you were breaking.

“Work been good?”, he asked, as if he was trying to fill the space between you with small talk, with questions that didn’t actually mean anything.

You nodded, the lie slipping so easily off your tongue, you almost believed it yourself. “Yeah, it’s been fine.” You’d barely thought about work these past few weeks. How could you? You couldn’t think of anything but him - him being gone, him being so far away, so unreachable.

There was a long silence, one that stretched between you like a thick, suffocating fog. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed him to see you, to hear you, to understand how you were feeling.

“Bucky, this.. this isn’t working”, you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re gone so much, and when you’re here, you’re not really here. I don’t -" You swallowed again, feeling the lump in your throat, "I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this”.

His eyes softened, either that, or you were so desperate for any kind of affection, that your mind was starting to play tricks on you.

The guard he’d built around himself was still there, so tight it was like trying to break through steel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” He paused, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t realize it was getting to you like this”.

“You didn’t realize?” Your voice cracked, the frustration and hurt seeping through. “Bucky, you’ve been gone for weeks at a time without even telling me where you are. You’re never here. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep doing this, waiting for you, when you don’t even see me anymore”.

You watched his face change as the words hit him. He didn’t say anything at first, just standing there, looking at you with a mix of guilt and confusion. You could see the internal battle happening in his head, the familiar struggle between his duty and his desire to make things right with you. But the truth was, it was too late for apologies.

“I love you, Bucky”, you whispered, your voice shaking now. “I love you so much, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being all alone just because you’re too busy saving the world to remember I exist”.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a long time, he didn’t say a word. The silence between you felt unbearable, like the air had thickened, each moment stretching out further and further, until neither of you knew what to say or how to fix what had been broken.

One night, a few weeks later, Bucky came home for a fleeting reprieve before another mission. You had stayed up late, as you always did when he was away, waiting for the sound of his key turning in the lock. When he finally walked through the door, exhaustion etched into his features, your heart ached for him and for the distance that seemed to grow wider with each passing mission.

That night, desperation fueled your actions. The words you had been holding back melted away, replaced by a need to feel connected, to remind both of you of the love that had brought you together in the first place. You clung to him, pouring all your loneliness, your love, and your frustration into the embrace. The physical intimacy between you reignited as if it could mend what had been broken. The kisses were fervent, the touches electric, and for a moment, you felt as though the pieces of your fractured relationship had been glued back together, if only temporarily. In those stolen moments, you allowed yourself to believe that things might be okay.

Two weeks after he left again, you found yourself staring at a small plastic stick in your trembling hands, the word pregnant displayed in bold, unmistakable letters. The wave of emotions was overwhelming - shock, fear, disbelief, and above all, a glimmer of hope. You sank to the bathroom floor, clutching the test to your chest, tears streaming down your face. It felt surreal, as though the universe had offered you a fragile lifeline. You whispered to yourself, "This is it. This will bring us closer".

Your first instinct was to call Bucky. You dialed his number with shaking fingers, but it went straight to voicemail. You left a message, your voice shaky but tinged with cautious excitement. "Bucky, it’s me. Please call me when you can. It’s important. I.. I have something to tell you". You sent a few texts as well: "I need to talk to you. It’s good news" and "Please, call me when you’re able".

The days stretched on with no response. The silence grew heavier, more suffocating with each passing hour. You couldn’t sleep, your mind filled with questions and fears. Was he safe? Had something happened to him? Or worse, was he choosing not to reply? You tried to reason with yourself - he was likely on a mission, unreachable, off the grid. But the rationalizations did little to calm the storm within you.

Then, a few weeks after discovering the pregnancy, you were jolted awake in the dead of night by a searing pain in your abdomen. Panic gripped you as you felt the damp warmth spreading beneath you. When you turned on the bedside lamp, the sight of blood pooling between your legs stole the air from your lungs. A choked sob escaped your lips as you scrambled to reach your phone, dialing for emergency services with shaking hands.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, your heart pounding so loudly you could hardly hear your own thoughts. Every bump in the road sent fresh waves of pain coursing through you. By the time you arrived, your vision was clouded by tears. Nurses and doctors swarmed around you, their voices a mix of calm instructions and urgent medical jargon.

"Miss, we need to get you into an exam room immediately", one nurse said, her voice gentle but firm as she helped you onto a stretcher. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but clutch your abdomen and nod weakly.

In the brightly lit examination room, a doctor - a middle-aged woman, with kind eyes and a steady demeanor - introduced herself. "I’m Dr. Reyes. We’re going to do everything we can to figure out what’s going on, okay? I need you to tell me when the pain started".

You struggled to form words through the haze of fear and pain. "I.. woke up. It just started.. and then the blood". Your voice broke, and fresh tears streamed down your face.

Dr. Reyes nodded, her expression compassionate but professional. "I’m going to do an ultrasound now to see what’s happening. Try to stay as still as you can".

The gel was cold against your skin as she moved the probe across your abdomen. You stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the terrified pounding of your heart. After a few moments, the doctor sighed softly, her brow furrowed.

"I… I’m so sorry", she said gently. "It looks like you’ve experienced a miscarriage. There’s no heartbeat".

The words shattered something inside you. "No", you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, please, you have to check again. It’s… it’s too soon".

Dr. Reyes placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I wish I had better news. We’re going to take care of you and make sure you’re stable, but I’m so sorry for your loss".

The rest of the night passed in a haze of procedures and whispered condolences. Nurses came and went, offering quiet reassurances as they tended to you. But no words could reach you. You felt hollow, as if the world had drained you of everything that mattered.

When you were finally discharged, you returned to the apartment, though it no longer felt like home. The silence was deafening, and the weight of your grief pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. Everywhere you looked, there were traces of him - his jacket draped over a chair, his book left half-read on the coffee table. And now, there was the weight of what could have been. The space that had once been your sanctuary now felt like a tomb, echoing with memories of a life you could no longer bear to face.

You couldn’t stay. The emptiness was too much, the reminders too painful. You packed your belongings with a heavy heart, each item a reminder of what you were leaving behind. The sound of the door closing behind you was final, a punctuation mark on the chapter of your life you had so desperately wanted to salvage. You returned to your old apartment, a place that felt foreign now, and sank into the isolation, leaving behind the life you had fought so hard to build.

Two months passed. Your world had crumbled into ash, leaving nothing but grief and emptiness in its wake. You were consumed by the pain. It was relentless, wrapping around you like a vice. The loss of your baby haunted you, the loneliness gnawed at your spirit, and the anger - anger at Bucky, at yourself, at the universe - was a constant, bitter companion.

At first, you tried to function, clinging to the routines that once brought you joy. But the weight of it all was too much. You quit your job. The sight of children, their laughter, their innocence, was unbearable. You shut out your friends - what few you had left. Their well-meaning concern felt like judgment. You wanted to scream, to tell them they didn’t understand.

And so, you spiraled.

The days blurred together, a haze of pain and self-destruction. You started with wine in the evenings, telling yourself it was to help you sleep, but soon the single glass turned into an entire bottle. Then another. It wasn’t long before mornings became indistinguishable from nights, the alcohol flowing steadily to keep the ache at bay.

But it wasn’t enough. The ache remained, clawing at the edges of your mind, refusing to be silenced. So, you turned to pills - prescriptions left over from past injuries, over-the-counter sleep aids, anything you could get your hands on. At first, it was one or two, just enough to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. But as the days dragged on, you found yourself reaching for more. A handful here, a few more there, until the numbness became the only thing you could feel.

You stopped eating, the thought of food turning your stomach. A cup of coffee, a piece of toast - that was all you could manage, if anything at all. The sharp pangs of hunger became just another sensation to push down with pills and alcohol. Your body grew weaker, but you didn’t care.

Sleep was elusive, coming in fitful bursts if it came at all. More often, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, your mind racing through memories of what you’d lost. You couldn’t stop replaying the moment in the hospital, the sterile room, the doctor’s solemn expression. It haunted you.

When you caught glimpses of yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the person staring back. Your once vibrant skin was pale and sallow, your cheeks sunken, your eyes hollow. Your hair hung in limp, unwashed strands around your face. Clothes that once fit snugly now hung loose on your frame, a stark reminder of how much weight you’d lost.

But none of it mattered. You didn’t care. Each time you looked at yourself, all you could see was failure - failure as a partner, as a mother, as a human being. The thought whispered to you like a cruel taunt, feeding your belief that this was your punishment, your penance for losing the baby, for being too weak to hold everything together.

The cycle continued, day after day. You stopped checking the calendar, stopped answering your phone. The world outside faded, replaced by the dim, oppressive cocoon of your apartment. Empty bottles and pill packets littered the counters and floor. Curtains stayed drawn, keeping out the daylight.

Each day, you sank further into the void, certain there was no way out. You weren’t living - you were merely existing, drowning in the belief that this was all you deserved.

Bucky returned two months later, his body weary but his mind sharp with anticipation. The mission had been relentless, every moment filled with danger, leaving no room for distractions. He hadn’t had access to his phone or any way to contact you. But the moment he landed, the mission finally over, he powered on his phone.

The screen lit up with a flood of missed calls, dozens upon dozens of unread messages from you. Panic gripped him like a vice. His heart pounded as he scrolled through the notifications, unable to focus on any one message. The timestamps told a story of desperation - calls in the dead of night, texts sent minutes apart, some marked with “URGENT” in all caps.

He didn’t have the strength to read through them. The fear twisting in his chest made it impossible. Instead, he called you immediately, his fingers trembling as he punched in your number.

“Come on”, he muttered, pressing the phone to his ear. The line rang once, twice, before a cold, automated voice told him the number was no longer in service.

“No. No, no, no”. He tried again, and again, each time greeted by the same response. His breathing quickened, panic rising like a tide.

“Come on, Y/N”, he pleaded under his breath, redialing in disbelief. Each failed attempt left him more frantic. What had happened? Why wasn’t your phone working?

By the time he reached the apartment, his heart was racing, his thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios. He fumbled with his keys, cursing under his breath as his shaking hands made it difficult to unlock the door. Finally, he shoved it open and stepped inside.

The silence hit him like a physical blow. The air was stale, carrying a faint, sour odor that hinted at how long the space had been untouched. His boots scuffed against the dusty hardwood floor as he stepped further inside, his voice cracking as he called out, “Y/N? Are you here?”

There was no response.

His eyes darted around the living room. The furniture was coated in a thin layer of dust. A coffee cup sat abandoned on the table, its contents dried to a brown stain. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch, as if you’d tossed it aside and never come back for it.

“Y/N?” he called again, louder this time. His voice echoed eerily in the empty space.

The kitchen was next. The sink was filled with dirty dishes, the counters cluttered with empty bottles and pill packets. His chest tightened as he took it all in. Something was wrong - terribly, horribly wrong.

He moved toward the bedroom, each step heavier than the last. When he pushed the door open, his breath caught in his throat. The sight before him was chaos: clothes strewn across the floor, the bed unmade, sheets tangled and stained. A broken lamp lay on the ground, its shattered pieces scattered across the carpet. A drawer from the dresser had been yanked out and left hanging, its contents spilling onto the floor.

“Jesus”, he whispered, his voice barely audible. He stepped inside, his heart pounding. “Y/N?” His voice cracked, a mix of fear and desperation.

He reached for his phone, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped it. He dialed Steve, his voice tight with panic as soon as the call connected. “Steve, it’s Bucky. I can’t find her. She’s not here. The apartment - it’s a mess. I don’t know where she is.”

Steve’s voice was calm but urgent on the other end. “Breathe, Buck. We’ll figure this out. Did you check her old place? Friends? Family?”

“No”, Bucky said, his words tumbling over each other. “I don’t even know where to start. Her phone’s disconnected. There’s dust everywhere. Steve, it looks like she’s been gone for weeks.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room.

“We’ll find her”, Steve reassured him. “Just stay calm. Start with any clues you can find. We’ll get through this.”

Bucky ended the call and looked around the room again, forcing himself to focus. His sharp mind, trained for tracking and reconnaissance, kicked in. He scanned for anything that might lead him to you - a note, an address, anything. His gaze fell on an envelope half-hidden under a pile of clothes. He snatched it up and found a crumpled bill for a hospital visit, dated weeks ago.

A sick feeling churned in his stomach as he read the address. “What the hell happened to you, doll?” he muttered under his breath, clutching the paper tightly. Without wasting another second, he bolted out of the apartment, the hospital record clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

Desperation drove him like a storm, relentless and consuming. Bucky worked through the night, poring over every lead, scouring every clue. He dug through old letters, hospital records, even your discarded social media accounts - anything that might point him to where you’d gone.

It was the hospital record that led him to your old address. A part of him hesitated when he saw the crumpled paper in his hands. Was this really where you would go? Why hadn’t you called anyone else? Guilt gnawed at him with every thought, but there was no time to dwell on it. He had to find you.

When he finally stood outside your apartment door, his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. What if he was too late? What if something had happened to you? His knuckles rapped against the door, each second of silence dragging like an eternity.

“Please”, he whispered under his breath, his hand tightening into a fist. He knocked again, louder this time.

The sound of shuffling from the other side made his breath hitch. The door creaked open a moment later, and his heart stopped.

You stood there, a shadow of the person he remembered. Your hair was unkempt, matted in places, and your skin was pale and sallow. Dark circles hung under your eyes, which were red-rimmed and hollow. Your frame was gaunt, your clothes hanging loosely on your body as if they belonged to someone else.

Bucky froze, unable to form words, his throat tight with emotion. “Doll..” he breathed, the sound barely audible.

You stared at him for a long moment, and then a bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

The venom in your tone sliced through him. He stepped forward instinctively, but you raised a trembling hand to stop him, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice soft but trembling with worry. His blue eyes darted over you, taking in every detail - the gauntness of your face, the trembling in your hands, the faint smell of alcohol that clung to you. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

Your laugh turned bitterer, harsher. “What’s going on? You’re asking me that?” You shook your head, your voice breaking. “You happened, Bucky. You left, and everything fell apart. Everything.”

“I didn’t know -” he started, his voice heavy with guilt, but you cut him off.

“Of course, you didn’t” you snapped, stepping back into the dimly lit apartment. “You were too busy saving the world to notice that your own world was crumbling.”

He stepped inside cautiously, his heart shattering as he took in the mess. Empty bottles of alcohol and pill packets were scattered on the coffee table and floor. The air was thick with the stench of neglect, a sour mix of spilled liquor and stale air. The curtains were drawn tightly, plunging the room into shadows despite the afternoon sun.

“Y/N..” His voice trailed off, his throat tightening as he stared at the devastation around him.

“Don’t say my name like that” you muttered, retreating further into the room. “Like you’re surprised. Like you didn’t cause this.”

“Cause this?” he repeated, stepping closer. His voice cracked, his words pleading. “Y/N, I didn’t know. If I’d known, I never -”

“But you didn’t!” you screamed, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain as you spun to face him. Your eyes, hollow yet blazing with anger, locked onto his, and Bucky swore he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “You weren’t here, Bucky. I called. I texted. Over and over, I begged you to come back. Do you know how many times I sat in this apartment, staring at my phone, praying for some sign that you were still out there? And where were you? Fighting someone else’s battles while my entire life was falling apart.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and Bucky flinched like you’d struck him. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. The look on your face - the raw betrayal, the fury - left him at a loss.

“I didn’t know” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I -”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know” you spat, taking a step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “You shut me out, Bucky. You didn’t care enough to see what was happening to me.”

“That’s not true” he said, his voice cracking as he tried to bridge the chasm between you. “I cared - I care! I thought I was doing what was right -”

“Right for who?” you interrupted, your voice venomous. “For you? For the Avengers? Because it sure as hell wasn’t right for me. Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day, and wonder if today is the day I’ll finally get that call, informing me that you're dead? To feel like you’re carrying the weight of everything, completely alone, while the person who promised to love you is nowhere to be found?”

Bucky’s face twisted in anguish, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “I didn’t know it was this bad” he murmured, his voice trembling. “If I’d known -”

“But you didn’t” you cut him off, your voice laced with bitterness. “You didn’t, because you weren’t here.”

He stepped toward you, his hands outstretched in a desperate plea. “Y/N, I’m here now. Please, let me -”

“Let you what?” you demanded, your voice rising as months of pent-up anger and heartbreak poured out of you. “Fix it? Make it better? You can’t, Bucky. You can’t just show up now, after everything, and expect me to be okay.”

“Please”, he whispered, his voice breaking. “Just tell me what happened. Let me understand.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and hollow. “You want to understand? You think you can fix this if I just lay it all out for you?”

His eyes searched yours, his expression raw and desperate. “I need to know” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t lose you. Please, Y/N.”

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. He noticed your shallow breathing, the way your shoulders quaked.

“I lost everything” you finally said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Piece by piece, it all fell apart.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you walked to the table, picking up an empty pill bottle and turning it over in your hand. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in the dark, wondering if you should just swallow one more and end it? Do you have any idea what it feels like to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the person staring back?”

He took a shaky step forward. “Y/N, don’t -”

“Don’t what?” you snapped, slamming the bottle down. “Don’t tell you the truth? You want to waltz back in here and play the hero, but you don’t even know the damage you left behind.”

His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the empty bottles, the crumpled blankets on the couch, the shattered picture frame on the floor. “I know I’ve hurt you” he said, his voice barely audible. “But I’m here now. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

You laughed again, but this time it turned into a sob. “You don’t get it” you said, shaking your head. “It’s not just me. It was never just me.”

He froze, his stomach twisting. “What are you saying?”

You turned to face him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There was a baby, Bucky” you said, your voice trembling. “Our baby. And I lost it. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain, and there was blood - so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified, and I was alone. You weren’t there.”

The words hit him like a freight train, and his knees buckled. He sank to the floor, his head in his hands as he tried to process what you’d just said. “Oh, God” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Oh, God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving with sobs. “I needed you” you said, your voice cracking. “I needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and you weren’t there.”

He looked up at you, his face streaked with tears, his expression raw and broken. “I failed you” he choked out. “I failed you and our baby. But please, Y/N, don’t shut me out. Let me stay. Let me try to make this right.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t make it right. You can’t bring the baby back. You can’t take away this pain.”

“No, I can’t” he said, his voice steady despite the tears. “But I can stay. I can be here for you, for us, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but please, Y/N. Don’t push me away.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, the war inside you raging. Finally, you sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know if I can do this”. you whispered.

He moved to sit beside you, his hand hovering over yours before gently taking it. “You don’t have to do it alone” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

And for the first time in months, you felt the faintest flicker of hope, a fragile ember in the darkness that had consumed you. It wasn’t an all-encompassing warmth or an instant relief, it was a hesitant, wavering thing, as if it might vanish at the slightest gust of doubt. But it was there. And after everything, even that small spark felt monumental.

You glanced down at his hand, rough and calloused yet so gentle as it cradled yours. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. For so long, you’d felt untethered, drifting through a sea of pain and loss with no anchor, but now - sitting beside him, his presence steady and unwavering - you felt a faint sense of grounding.

“It’s going to take time” you whispered, your voice shaky but honest. “I don’t know if I can just.. move on. Some days, I don’t even know how to keep going.”

“You don’t have to do it all at once” he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion that thickened it. “We’ll take it one day at a time. One step at a time. Together.”

The word together hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You searched his face, half-expecting to see doubt or hesitation, but his gaze was steady, unwavering. He meant it. He truly meant it.

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t purely born of sorrow. They were a mixture of grief and something softer, something tentative that you hadn’t dared to feel in months - trust. “I’m scared, Bucky”. you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“So am I” he confessed, his voice breaking just slightly. “I’m scared I’ll mess up again. Scared I won’t be enough to help you heal. But I promise you, doll, I’ll do everything I can. I’ll be here - no matter what.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. They didn’t erase the pain or magically mend the wounds you carried, but they planted a seed of possibility. Maybe healing wasn’t about forgetting the hurt or pretending it didn’t exist. Maybe it was about facing it head-on, step by step, with someone by your side.

As you sat there, his presence anchoring you, the silence stretched but didn’t feel oppressive. It felt shared, almost comforting. His fingers tightened around yours slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The road ahead would be long and painful, filled with memories that would resurface and wounds that might never fully close. But for now, you let yourself lean into the moment, into him, and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward together. Not whole, not without scars, but together. And for now, that was enough.

[negasonic9403]

Okay, hear me out

Modern Stucky in the MCU and Steve convinces himself that he can have a casual relationship with Bucky because they're both still coming into the new, modern age and aren't ready to have a real relationship yet or a public one, especially not with a man since they're from the 40s, ya know? Anyways, Steve definitely CANNOT handle casual, but he does it anyways. He's not sure why he does it for awhile because it's killing him to not be able to be romantic except when they're alone but he figures out it's because he's always loved Bucky, he's just never been able to identify it as love because of all the internalized homophobia

And for a while, Bucky is okay with casual. He's still getting used to having autonomy again and getting in a real relationship sounds too controlling. He's also still getting his memories back and doesn't want to hurt Steve. However, ever since his memories first started coming back, he's known Bucky loves Steve. The only question is, is he still Bucky?

This eventually leads to intense longing to be a real couple on both sides, but both of them are too emotionally stunted to know how to handle that so they just don't. Instead of being boyfriends, they just start being more couple-y around the team until someone finally asks if they're dating. Their reply is making eye contact with red faces to see if the other wants it as much as they do before nodding with little grins