#FATWS

[avengerscompound]

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes The Falcon & the Winter Soldier

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers, emotional aftermath.

Summary: An exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. When the dust finally settles, will you be able to move past this stranger encounter or will your own emotions cause you to burn out?

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

Part 1 - September 5, 2024

Part 2 - November 5, 2024

Part 3

Part 4

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction  and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[aquaticmercy]

In Another Life

Summary : Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : slight cursing, very slight suggestion of sex, Yelena being a third wheel, and multiversal travel!!!

Requested by : anon

Word count : 3.9k

Note : This was really fun to write. And yes, I slipped Yelena into this because I can. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled as Bucky handed you a knife to sharpen. As he sat there in your living room, the evening light reflected on your curtains, casting a soft shadow across his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet not quite close enough. He had asked if he could come over the day before his mission, claiming he needed help sharpening his knives. He has said ‘no one sharpens knives as good as you’. To some degree, you both knew it wasn’t the only reason he was here.

“Weren’t we supposed to see that new World War II exhibit at the museum tomorrow?” you asked, your voice riddled with a tinge of disappointment.

“We were,” Bucky admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. If there was one thing he hated, it was letting you down, especially over a mission he couldn’t refuse.

“Who does Strange think he is anyway— that lunatic wizard?” you quipped, with a little gossipy tone. “Showing up at your doorstep and just… demanding you drop everything last minute?”

A small smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, enjoying this sassy part of you. “It's a bit annoying, but I can’t exactly turn him down.” 

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you worked. “What’s so important that he needs you and Yelena for, anyway? This isn't one of those ‘end of the world’ things, is it?”

Strange had basically asked him to commit theft, and not just any theft— he wanted Bucky to steal something from a multiversal variant of himself in another reality.

Still, Strange had made it sound urgent. It would be most obvious to partner him with you, since you were proven to work well together, but you had just returned from another mission in Antarctica. Both Bucky and Strange knew you needed time to recover.

That left Yelena and Sam. Sam, with his unmovable sense of duty, would’ve questioned every detail and repercussion. He was growing more and more into his Captain America mantle, and that wasn’t a bad thing— it was just inconvenient sometimes. Yelena, on the other hand, would do what needed to be done and ask fewer questions, which was why Strange approached her instead.

If the mission worked out, Bucky would have earned himself a favour owed by one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. That was a card he couldn’t afford to pass up.

Bucky hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrets settle on his shoulders. “It’s classified,” he finally said, which was technically true. He didn’t want to trigger your anxieties with the details, especially when he didn’t fully understand the whole multiverse mess himself. 

You gave a small nod. You’d been around the hero-type for so long to know there were things you weren’t always allowed to know. Even though you were laser-focused on sharpening another knife, you could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his fingers dance along one of the blades, tension flowing through his body like a wave he cannot tame. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the conflicting spark in his eyes. He didn’t mind the danger. But the multiverse, something that was so unknown to him? That was a different kind of fear. 

He didn’t want to leave things unsaid with you. Not when there was a chance he might not come back.

He called your name softly. “Can I talk to you?”

There was something in the way your name left his lips that made your chest tighten. Bucky wasn’t the nervous type—not with you, anyway. Your hands stilled on the sharpening stone. “Of course,” you said, setting the tools aside.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. “You mean a lot to me,” he started, his voice low but steady. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Bucky’s hands reached out to gently clasp yours, the cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his human hand. It was such a Bucky thing to do, to find a simple, human way to connect, even as he struggled with the mechanical parts of him.

“I need to tell you—” 

A loud, insistent knock thundered the door, startling both of you. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours as you turned towards the sound.

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, standing up. 

“Yelena?” Bucky echoed, blinking in confusion. 

“Did I not tell you?” you asked, biting your lip. “When you asked if you could come over, I asked if she needed her knives sharpened too. She did, so I invited her. I hope that’s okay?”

Bucky’s heart sank, but he forced himself an unreadable expression. Of course, You’d invited someone else. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say what he wanted to say, if it ever was. In fact, maybe this was a sign to never tell you. 

You invited Yelena, your friend. Which probably meant he was also a friend—just a friend. It probably meant you would never see him as something more.

Before he could respond, you were already at the door, revealing the deadly assassin packed into a 5 '4 vessel of human fury. She gave you a sisterly smile in greeting before her eyes landed on Bucky.

“Hello, Bucky,” she said, her russian accent a little too cheerful as she dropped a heavy duffel bag on the wooden floor with an echoing thud. 

“Yelena,” Bucky replied, somewhat coldly. He didn’t dislike Yelena. He knew better than to make an enemy of her. Besides, they had saved each other’s life before. But at that moment, he resented her. 

He resented that she had unknowingly interrupted something he might never get the chance to finish. 

“Drink?” you offered, already heading towards the kitchen. 

“Just water,” Yelena shrugged, flopping down into the armchair with the casual confidence of someone who could kill you with both hands behind her back. As you left the room, Yelena turned her mischievous gaze to Bucky, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. 

“I’m not third-wheeling today, am I?” she teased, pulling out a couple of dull knives and placing them on the table in front of her. 

Bucky’s ears burned red. “Shut up.”

Yelena chuckled, twirling a knife like a baby would play with their dummy. “I can see the way you look at her, you know. If you put half as much effort into flirting as you do into those knives, you might actually get somewhere.”

He clenched his jaw, the frustration building. He hated the insinuation that he wasn't trying. But now? He might stop. He might just give up because clearly, he was a friend to you, the way Yelena was a friend. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is when I’m sitting here watching you blow your chance, Barnes.” Yelena’s tone softened, just a touch, before she glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s oblivious, but she cares.”

Bucky stared down at the knife in his hands, knowing he had to deal with this teasing all day tomorrow. A constant reminder that he will always be too afraid to tell you. “It’s not that simple.”

Before Yelena could respond, you returned with glasses of water in hand, completely unaware of the exchange between the widow and the soldier in your absence. You handed Yelena the glass with a smile and settled back down beside Bucky, completely oblivious to his racing heart.

—

The multiverse… wasn’t as confusing as Bucky had expected it to be.

Sure, he didn’t understand how it functioned or what the exact mechanics were—something about a teenager named America Chavez punching a star-shaped hole through space-time. Or something like that.

But what really threw him off was how familiar this reality felt, how similar it was to his own. The streets, the neighbourhood, the people, the world around him—it was all the same, yet different in subtle, uncanny ways he couldn't quite point out.

America had opened the portal in an alley near Bucky's apartment in this different reality. After he and Yelena stepped through, America warned them: "I will open a portal again in two hours. Don’t miss the window." America was still so young, but she had a grim seriousness in her voice. Bucky wondered what her story was.

Now, Bucky and Yelena sat perched on a fire escape across from his own apartment—or, at least, a version of it. It was the same address as his was in his reality. The mission was simple: retrieve an artefact that belonged to this variant of Bucky—a blue stone embedded in a gold ring—from his apartment in this reality. Strange had briefed them on it: the ring was a powerful protection charm, and he needed it.

He just had to wait until his variant went out for his daily run, slip inside, find the ring, and get out. Yelena would be backup, keeping watch in case things went south. Maybe in case the variant of him decided to return early.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend approves of this dangerous multiverse stuff,” Yelena quipped, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the fire escape. “She’s very protective of you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered, though the title felt strange on his lips. 

“Whatever,” Yelena grinned, clearly unconvinced.

Only thirty minutes later, variant Bucky stepped out of the apartment for his run.

“Radio silence unless it’s an emergency,” Bucky instructed before slipping his earpiece in, turning it on. He didn’t want distractions. Not today.

Sliding off the fire escape, Bucky quickly made his way to the apartment. To his surprise, his keys worked just fine. No need for breaking in. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhere both familiar and alien.

Everything was almost identical— just almost. The couch was a lighter shade of blue, the TV a different brand, though it looked the same. It was like staring into an uncanny mirror of his own life. 

Focus. He needed to find the ring.

He began searching the usual spots—safes, drawers, anywhere he’d hide something important in his own apartment. But no luck. Think, Barnes, he thought to himself, where would you put a protection charm?

Then, something caught his eye— a framed photo on the mantle of his fireplace that wasn’t supposed to be there. A photo of him and… you.

His breath hitched. It wasn’t just any photo. You were kissing his cheek, a lake in the background. The warmth in your smile, the easy comfort between you both... It was a picture he'd never seen in his reality. 

Were you together in this one?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The extra clothes in the closet, the toiletries. In his reality, you had a drawer in his apartment, since you stayed over sometimes, as a friend. But this? This was different. Here, you shared a life.

He spotted a camera, instantly recognizing it as the same model you had back in his reality. He knew he should stay focused on finding the charm, but curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself, he turned it on, eyes shifting through the photos. Image after image appeared—of him and you together. Holidays, long walks, intimate dinners. Kisses and comfortable hugs. 

His chest tightened with a hollow ache of jealousy. Was this what he could have? What he might be missing?

Before he could process the feeling, a buzz in his earpiece snapped him back to reality.

Yelena’s voice came through, saying your name urgently. 

“What?” Bucky asked. Why would Yelena say your name like that?

“She’s here. She’s entering the building.”

Panic surged through him like a thunderbolt. “Don’t shoot her,” he ordered.

“Yeah, didn’t plan to,” Yelena answered, annoyed that he thought she was thinking of it, “but what are you gonna do? She has keys.”

Of course she does, Bucky thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Frozen in his place, his mind raced. What now?

Suddenly, the door opened, and there you were, a version of yourself he had never met before.

“Buck?” the variant of you said, startled, eyes widening. “I thought you’d still be on your run. And why are you wearing your tactical suit?”

You closed the door behind, placing your bag on the couch.

“I—” he stammered, completely unprepared for this, unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound tangled in his throat. He glanced at your hand. There, on your finger, was the ring. The protection charm.

Of course. He should have known. He’d do anything to protect you.

His mind spun with conflicting emotions— jealousy of his own variant, longing for you back home, and guilt that he was even here.

You took a step closer, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about the tactical suit... You know I like it when you wear it to bed.” You flirted with a tender laugh, that soft sound that always made his heart stutter filling the air around him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in. It would be so easy to give in, to just pretend for a moment that this was his life, that this variant of you was his. To feel your lips on his. 

His hand twitched at his side, wanting to grip your waist, to pull you closer. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this continue.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice strained. “There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. The variant of you pulled back, studying him more closely now, noticing the subtle changes. There was a subtle scar on his neck that wasn’t there before. “You’re not my Bucky, are you?” 

Yelena’s voice crackled in his earpiece again. She had been able to hear everything. “Bucky, I know she’s your weakness, but we need that ring. Do not tell her—”

Bucky switched the earpiece off, ignoring Yelena’s warning. He’d deal with that later. You deserved better than half-truths.

“This is Strange’s doing, isn’t it?” you asked, taking the revelation surprisingly well. “I thought he was done with all this multiverse shit.”

He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah. But… not your Strange. Mine.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. The variant of you looked at him carefully, as if searching for a trace of the Bucky you knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved.”

“What does Strange want?” you asked, frowning. “And why is he sending my fiancé to do his dirty work?”

Bucky blinked. Fiancé? His heart stuttered. That ring wasn’t just a charm. It was your engagement ring.

You noticed his shock. “We are engaged in your reality, right?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I—I haven’t even told you, uh, her… how I feel.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “So, all the Buckys are like this then? Huh.”

Bucky’s heart raced, his mind still reeling from the idea that you— at least this version of you—were engaged to him in this reality. It was everything he wanted but didn’t have. 

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, guilt laced in his whimpering voice.

You tilted your head like you were trying to piece the puzzle pieces together and came to a conclusion that you were safe. As if you convinced yourself that no variant of Bucky would ever hurt any version of you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You’re still him. In some way.”

He wasn’t your Bucky, and yet, you spoke to him like he was. You spoke to him with the same compassion, the same love. His eyes flickered to your hand again—the ring. 

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself. But how could he? Your eyes followed his stare, and it landed on the gold band around your finger. You let out a small but heavy sigh.

“Strange wants the ring, doesn't he?” you asked. Bucky nodded, feeling his heart twist in his ribs. He didn't want to take anything away from you.

“He said it’s a powerful protection charm.” 

The variant of you stood still for a moment, “I know.” You gently slid the ring off your finger, holding it in your palm. 

You stepped closer. “If Strange wants it, I know it has to be important. I trust that lunatic wizard— and I trust you.”

You were trusting him— this version of him who wasn’t even yours— with something so personal, something tied to your bond with his variant. “But, it's your engagement ring,” he said. He knew he got what he wanted, but he can't help but wonder why you gave it away so willingly. “I—Your Bucky gave this to you to protect you.”

The variant of you smiled, taking a necklace chain from under your shirt. There it was, the same stone that was on the ring also sat on your chest.

“My Bucky asked this reality’s Strange to split the gemstone,” the variant of you said, “He knows I have this tendency of misplacing my jewellery.”

Bucky can't help but chuckle. His version of you had that quirk, too.

“I’ll explain everything to my Bucky when he gets back. I know he’ll understand.” You hesitated giving him the ring for a second. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed. 

You gave him a knowing smile, one that was all too familiar. One that made his heart swarm. “Go back to your reality, and tell me—her how you feel.”

His heart twisted. He does not make promises he can't keep, especially not to you— any version of you. “I can’t—"

“You can,” you interjected with that stubbornness he knew and loved. “If she means anything to you, you will.”

He stared at you, and no words came out. All this time, he had kept his feelings hidden, afraid of losing you if he told the truth. But here, another version of you telling him to just suck it up.

Bucky’s voice wavered above a whisper. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A soft laugh escaped your lungs, and you shook your head, knowing something he doesn’t. “Trust me, she does.”

He could tell that this variant of you knew him so well, even if you were from another universe. Slowly, he took the ring from your hand. It felt heavier than it should’ve, weighted with more than just its magic.

“I will tell her,” he whispered a promise, “thank you.” 

You nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Bucky clenched his jaw, putting his earpiece back on.

“There you are,” Yelena’s voice crackled back into life. “Our window’s closing. We’ve got about ten minutes before the portal opens again. Move it.”

A shaky breath left his lungs. “Ring secured. On my way.”

He gave you one last look, his heart full of a thousand swirling emotions he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I hope your Bucky knows how lucky he is.”

The variant of you smiled. “I think he does.”

Without another word, Bucky slipped out of the apartment, the ring safely in his pocket. 

—

Bucky had knocked on your door after the day of his mission. When he saw you, your name escaped his lips like a prayer as he hugged you. 

Now, this was you. Not another version of you.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you chuckled.

Bucky held you a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to ground himself in the present— this present reality. He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning your face like it was the first time he’d seen you in years. The both of you slipped into your apartment, closing the door.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, though it had only been two days. The words now  carried more weight than they ever had before. His mind was still reeling from the alternate reality, from the life he could have had with you, and from what the variant of you had told him. He found some comfort and confidence, knowing that there was a version of him out there who had done what he was too scared to do—tell you how he felt. It was his turn now.

You smiled, but concern flickered in your eyes as you noticed something different in his touch. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen on the mission?”

Bucky hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by again.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Bucky said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was on the edge of an emotional breakthrough.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped closer, his fingers brushing the side of your arm. “I’ve been afraid of losing you if I told you…”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised where this was going. You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I care about you more than anything,” he continued, his stormy blue eyes locking with yours, vulnerable and frail. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been too scared to say it.”

Your breath caught itself before it left your lungs. You could feel the truth of his words in the way his voice wavered, in the intensity of his gaze, in the flutter of his touch.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, too fast,” Bucky added quickly, misreading your silence for rejection. He cursed at himself, wondering if the variant of you had been wrong. “If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but as soon as your lips met his,the hesitations, the doubts, the fears all fell away. 

Bucky’s metal hand settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His soft lips moving against yours with a mix of relief and urgency, taking each other in for the first time as if it was your last. The warmth of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his arms— it was everything he could ever ask for.

You finally pulled back breathless, your foreheads rested against each other as you let the adrenaline settle.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just waiting for you to see it.”

Bucky chuckled softly. 

You playfully shook your head. “I owe Yelena ten bucks.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“She was here yesterday night, after your mission,” you said, “She bet me that we’d be together by the end of the week. I took the bet because I didn't think you’d feel the same.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as a grin spread across his face. She had been pestering him after the mission yesterday, insisting on knowing what the variant of you had told him. But he had not volunteered any information to her.  “Yelena knew before I even said anything? I’m losing my edge.” he teased himself, shaking his head.

“Please, Buck. She’s like a human lie detector,” you quipped, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Well, ten bucks is worth it, right?” he smiled.

You kissed him once more, short, sweet, and fleeting this time. It drew a giggle out of you, “Definitely.”

Maybe one day, he’d tell you about the mission, about the variant of you. 

But for now, he only wanted to enjoy the moment.

-end

[enthyrea]

sambucky for @runzu!

thank you so much for commissioning me <3

all credit for the original template goes to @byelacey!

commission info

[orwintr]

"the many mistakes i make get replaced with bigger, more violent ones. i have been forgiven for what should not be, and i have lived longer than ever deserved. to know there is no fate is a fate in itself: i know that what i have become is the result of myself alone."

pt 2 of 2

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

every time I see this picture I have… thoughts

[dailymarvel]

[eat-limes-bitches]

Southern Cookin'

PAIRING: Female Reader x FATWS!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: When Bucky and Sam get stranded in a Storm, they go to the nearest place they can, Bucky’s country home, but what happens when Walker shows up at the front door too?

WARNINGS: Fluff! Touch of angst, angry southern woman (this is a definite warning, if you've lived with one, you know."

Word Count: 1844

A/N: It's been storming its butt off here down south and as I was baking brownies this idea popped into my head and made me giggle, so I hope yall get a chuckle out of it too! Stay safe out there <3

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

The mission was a disaster. Not only had they just got their asses kicked, but they also had to deal with the Bullshit from John Walker and then the country sky opened up with an early summer thunderstorm, drenching the two men with its torrential downpour.  

“We are hours away from the nearest safe house.” Sam sighed, looking at the database.

 Bucky looked over at his teammate, Sam was suppressing a shiver each time the wind blew. His split lip and bruised cheek getting more gnarly with each passing minute. He looked up at the sky, the dark swirling clouds showing no signs of letting up any time soon. Fearing for Sam's health and with no other option in sight, Bucky let out a sigh. 

“I know a place.” Sam raised a curious eyebrow but didn't ask any questions, the idea of a warm shelter too tempting to risk Bucky changing his mind. Bucky looked around for a moment, to Sam it almost seemed like he was calculating his location based on the landmarks before giving a little nod.

“Should be just on the other side of this field. 15-minute walk give or take.” Bucky concluded, making his way through the field, Sam not far behind him. 

Soon, the pair found themselves on the front porch of an old country farmhouse, the white porch swing swaying violently as the storm picked up. Bucky reached for the doorknob before pausing and looking over his shoulder at Sam, fixing him in his infamous glare before uttering a low warning. 

“Not a word of this to anyone. You hear me?”

Sam was used to Bucky’s gruffness at this point in their partnership but this was a new level of protectiveness that he hadn’t seen before. He raised his hands in a placating motion before agreeing.  The tension that seemed to be permanently engraved in Bucky’s form disappeared as soon as he stepped through the door. The sound of their entrance caused a woof to erupt from a room on the other side of the downstairs. Bucky toed off his boots, motioning for Sam to do the same when a rusty-colored dog came rushing into the room through a dog door barking his head off.  Bucky let out a chuckle, catching Sam by surprise, watching as Bucky then crouched down to greet the dog.

“Hey whiskey, it’s just me bubba.” Bucky cooed, scratching the pup behind his pointy ears.

“Where’s your momma little man?” Bucky asked the pup, removing his hand as the dog darted off back through the dog door before poking his head back through, watching the two men. 

Bucky stood, and followed after the dog, waving Sam along with him. The pair walked through a second door and they were both hit with a wave of warmth, causing Sam to let out a little sigh. The house smelled of cocoa and sugar, the sound of the storm outside blending into the calming atmosphere while a record played in the background. Just as Bucky was about to walk through a little hallway, Sam caught his shoulder, turning Bucky to look at him.

“Man, where the hell are we?” He asked, and then nearly fell out when he saw pink flush the ex assassins cheeks. 

“Uh, this is my home. I uh, I live here.” Bucky mumbled shyly refusing to look Sam in the face. Sam raised an eyebrow.

“You live here on your own?” He pressed a little further. Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, I live here with my girl.” 

A person appeared from around the hall corner as if on cue, the little red dog hot on her heels. She looked at the two men, her gaze fixing on Bucky. She smiled at him sweetly, brushing her hands off on her apron, leaving floury handprints in her wake. 

“Bucky! You’re home!” She waltzed over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling back realizing how cold his skin was. 

“James you’re freezin’ and gettin’ water all over my hardwood floor.” She scolded him a country accent slipping out as she spoke. She then noticed Sam standing behind him and pursed her lips before fixing Bucky in a glare.

“You brought company over here in an even more sorry state than you and haven’t offered him anything to dry himself off or a fresh change of clothes!” She proceeded to chase the two men up the stairs giving strict instructions to change and dry off while she put a pot of coffee on. 

Sam let out a chuckle as the woman made her way back to where he presumed the kitchen was as the pair made their way upstairs. 

“She’s a spitfire huh?” Sam asked, taking the change of clothes from Bucky who just shrugged slightly, a soft smile decorating his features.

“Yeah, you could say that. 

Now in dry clothes, the two men wandered into the kitchen right as she pulled two batches of brownies out of the oven. She looked up after setting the brownies on the counter, giving a nod of approval seeing the men in a more presentable state. She wandered over to a cabinet throwing it open and reaching for the coffee cups on the top shelf, just out of her reach when Bucky appeared behind her, pulling them down from the shelf and placing them in her hands.

She smiled sweetly up at him before standing up on her toes and planting a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Thank you darlin’” She smiled softly.

“Of course doll.” Bucky smiled right back, stepping out of her way as she moved away to pour the coffee. 

“Sam? How do you want your coffee honey?”  She called out, pulling out the cream and sugar. 

“Uh, just black is fine. Thank you-” His words faded out, not knowing this woman's name. She handed him a mug with a chicken on it before handing another mug with a goat on it to Bucky before she spoke.

“Y/n.” She sent him a sweet smile before picking up her own mug and leaning into Bucky’s side who had lifted his arm to make room for her. 

Sam had a smirk on his face looking between Y/n and Bucky as he spoke, “I didn’t know Bucky had a girlfriend,” He drawled out the word girlfriend, watching Bucky’s cheeks get darker as he looked anywhere but at his partner as Y/n laughed. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t want to tell too many people. Somethin’ ‘bout worryin’ for my safety.” She shook her head as if the thought of Bucky trying to protect her made her laugh. 

Sam nodded in an understanding fashion. “Does anyone know about your little secret Buck?” Sam teased lightly. Bucky gave a soft smile with a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Steve did.” At the mention of the name, the room grew heavy with sadness. Y/n seemed to shift a little deeper into Bucky’s embrace before stepping away cutting the brownies and giving each man a piece. 

“So you knew Steve.” Sam started, looking at Y/n thoughtfully. 

“Yes, I did.” She started with a sad smile. “It was a bad storm like today, he and Bucky showed up at my door looking like two drowned rats, thinking it was one of the safe houses. Well, they were so pitiful lookin’ that I couldn’t just turn them away. So much like you two, I brought them inside, put them in dry clothes, and made them some coffee.” 

Just then there was a knock at the door. Bucky set down his coffee cup and went to investigate, leaving Sam and Y/n alone in the kitchen. Y/n reached over the counter and placed a hand over Sam’s.

“Look sugar, I understand why you did what you did.” She said softly. “Do I agree with it? No. Does Bucky agree with it? Of course not.” She let out a sigh before continuing. “But I understand it. But if there is one thing I know about Steve Rogers, is that he wouldn’t have just left anyone with that shield.” She concluded, patting his hand when Bucky let out a shout, causing the pair in the kitchen to dart to the front room.

When they arrived, there was a soaking-wet John Walker and Lamar Hoskins standing on the front porch. Y/n walked up to stand next to Bucky before looking at the two men.

“Can I help you two boys?” She asked, glancing from one to the other. John, seeming to puff up in the presence of a pretty lady, extended his hand out. 

“Good evening ma’am. John Walker, Captain America.” Y/n looked from his hand to his face, making no move to accept his handshake. 

“Your name very well may be John Walker, but you’re mistaken on the Captain America part sweetheart.” She gave him a once over before continuing, “You look more like a sorry excuse for a rodeo clown on the fourth of July than Captain America, but either way, that didn’t answer my question.”

She took a step up to Walker looking him dead in the eye. “Can I help you?” John seemed to deflate, stuttering over his words trying to make some sort of logical sense. Y/n raised her eyebrows waiting patiently for this worm of a man to get his act together and with no end to his incoherent mumblings in sight, she sighed. 

“Well, if you don’t need anything, I’ll have Hades show you out.” She said sweetly. Bucky chuckled lightly before backing up to stand next to Sam.

Sam leaned over to Bucky. “Who the hell is Hades?” Bucky just nodded towards the door as Y/n let out a loud whistle.

“Hades! We have some guests that need to be escorted out.” As soon as the word “out” left her mouth, a huge black Doberman appeared out of nowhere, growling and barking at the two men at the front door. With one loud bark, Walker went flying off the front step and back down the path to where their car was waiting, Lamar, hot on his heels as Hades bounded down the steps chasing them off with Whiskey following suit. 

The two dogs watched attentively as the car drove off and once they deemed the men to be far enough away, came bounding back into the house, tongue lolling out of their mouths, causing the trio to laugh until the dogs were inside making a mad dash for the living room.

“Boys! You get back here!” Y/n shouted, grabbing a towel off a nearby chair and chasing after the two soaking wet dogs. Bucky, still laughing, walked over to the door closing it before walking back over to Sam, who clapped him on the shoulder. 

“You’ve got yourself a good one,” Sam concluded. “Don’t let her get away.” Bucky smiled watching on in amusement as Whiskey ran by with the towel that Y/n had grabbed to dry him off, with her hot on his heels.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[delicatebarness]

delicatebarness | masterlist

This post includes the links to the individual masterlists.

Support: Ko-Fi | Socials: Instagram | Personal Blog | Pinterest | TikTok

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Key: Series | Stand Alone |

B. Barnes

Barnes’ Girl [CEO!Bucky Barnes x Florist!Reader]

Bring Him Home [Bucky Barnes x Romanoff!Reader]

Bridges to Burn [Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader]

But Daddy I Love Him

I Can't Read Your Mind [TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader]

If Walls Could Talk [Drummer!Bucky Barnes x Bassist!Reader]

Cry Baby [CryBaby!Bucky Barnes x CryBaby!Rogers!Reader] (Currently being edited)

The Avengers Bunch [The Avengers x Avenger!Reader]

The Barnes-Rogers Family Adventures [CG!Stucky x Little!Reader x Little!Peter Parker]

The Manuscript [Professor!Bucky Barnes x Student!Reader]

The Prophecy of Earth and Moon [Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Fairy Reader]

Until I Found You [40s!PreSerum!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader]

Wildflower Ridge Ranch [Cowboy!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader]

Winter’s Widow [Lord James Barnes x Lady Romanoff Reader]

The Hard Launch [Actor!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Reader]

S. Rogers

Good Graces: A Cry Baby Story [CryBaby!Steve x Detective!Reader] (Previously Badge & Blood)

B. Barnes & S. Rogers

The Red Rooms [BrothelOwner!Bucky Barnes x Reader. BrothelOwner!Steve Rogers x Reader]

P. Brenner

Caught In The Storm [Husband!Pete Brenner x Wife!Reader]

Hiatus

Previously on... I Think He Knows

Previously on... Safe & Sound

[patches4thechaos]

I just want him to have his cat pleas (and maybe grow out his hair again 🧍‍♂️ but on his own accords)

[klecrone]

The incredible @elkleggs (https://twitter.com/elkleggs) created a gorgeous piece of artwork of Barnes reading which was originally meant to connect with Chapter 79: Tattered Pages, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this felt like a different, more private moment where the contents of the journals weren’t so fresh, and where they had some added context he could grasp.

While the contents of the journals are often grim, I’d like to imagine that between Nomble’s book and the notes he’s jotted down by hand, that Barnes occasionally finds entries that spark moments of levity. Perhaps it’s an update about whatever hijinks Sam got up to way back, an observation about Steve, or some fluff concerning one of those many stray cats he tended to. Whatever it is: I love the idea that it reminds him that he’s not as truly alone as he sometimes feels.

I deeply appreciate this gorgeous painting Elkleggs created to accompany this chapter. I love all of the careful thought and intention she put into it. She completed this piece over a year and a half ago, and it feels cathartic to not only finally work our way to this scene, but to be able to share the associated art with you. Once again: A *huge* to her for bringing this impactful story moment to life, and for all of you wonderful readers for keeping the story alive.

Please check out her social media accounts to see more of her incredible art! (Only 18+, please!)

Chapter 92: "The Gravity of Ink" - (Read my story on Ao3 and FFnet) "Winter of the White Wolf" MCU FanFic

[logicheartsoul]

Sam Wilson & Bucky Barnes in Marvel Studios’ Assembled: The Making of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (2021)

[lokiswifeduh]

can’t help but drown

pairings: Bucky x fem!reader

summary: the past few months you think you have a handle on your anxiety. but after a silent panic attack in the bathtub, Bucky is there to pull you out.

warnings: panic attack, anxiety, feeling helpless, feelings of suffocation, ANGST!!!

The water moved in soft ruffles around you. Not quite making waves, however, moving from how your anxious legs swayed the water.

Shallow breaths and water hitting the porcelain tub softly were all you could hear. Your body was too overheated, your mind was racing and you could feel your heartbeat in your hands.

You didn't know where this sudden burst of anxiety and panic had risen from. Just that you couldn't get out of the water. Something was keeping you down. Making your body drown.

"Doll?" A sudden tap on the door knocked you out of your trance. You swallowed, your throat feeling like sandpaper against your tongue. "Y-yeah?" Your voice cracked, and you silently cursed knowing Bucky would notice. That super soldier hearing never lets you live anything down.

"You've been in there for a while." You heard him lean against the door, "Is everything alright?" You nodded, remembering as much as Bucky could hear you better than most, he definitely can't see through walls.

"Y-yes. I'm alright, just...uh." You tried to think. Any excuse would work. Bucky might not believe you but he would let the topic go. "Just needed some extra alone time tonight."

"Oh," Bucky mumbled through the door. "Okay, doll." You could feel the hurt in his voice. You didn't need alone time from him. You didn't need to be alone at all right now but he couldn't see you like this.

A sweaty, anxious, mess.

You didn't know how much time had passed. Your nails attempt to dig into the porcelain of the tub, but to no avail, you're only yourself in the process. "Sweetheart?" Bucky taps on the door once more, "Please talk to me." You try to speak, but only a mumble comes out. The bubbles in the bath are gone. Only leaving a white film on top of the now room-temperature water.

"Doll, I'm coming in." You attempt to refuse but nothing comes out as Bucky breaks the lock on the door, softly opening it. You can't look at him. You won't.

You keep your head forward, staring into the wall as you feel Bucky kneel beside you.

He can see how hard your nails are clutching onto the side of the tub, softly lifting your hand as you ball your fist. Your nails now digging into the skin of your palm; drawing blood.

"Hey, hey." Bucky unclenches your fist, letting your nails hurt his metal hand instead.

Using his flesh hand, he softly places a palm on your cheek, bringing your eyes to his. "Doll, what's going on? Talk to me." You shake your head, eyes falling closed as more tears adorn your already-flushed cheeks.

"Okay, that's okay." Bucky whispers, "But I need to get you out of this tub sweetheart." He doesn't need to feel the water to know you've been in the bath for far too long.

"Can I get you out, doll?" You slowly nod, your chin shaking with the sobs you so badly don't want to release.

Bucky mumbles an alright. Moving one of his arms under your legs, the other holding your back as you clutch onto his shirt.

He lifts you up, the water rolling off of your body and soaking his once-dry clothes. "I'm so sorry." You mumble, repeating it over and over as your body starts to shiver from the temperature difference. "Shhh, you're okay, sweetheart."

Bucky wraps a towel around the exposed side of your body, attempting to keep you warm as he brings you into your shared bedroom. "I'm gonna lay you down, doll."

You shake your head violently, clutching onto his henley even harder. "Please, please don't leave me."

Bucky sits down with you still in his arms on the bed, your legs now lying over his as he holds you. "I won't. I promise, sweetheart I'm not leaving."

You both sit there for a moment, tears falling from your eyes, him rocking you back and forth as an old record played from the living room.

You start to feel a weight lift off your chest, your heartbeat calming slightly at the touch of Bucky's arms on yours. You start to speak, wanting to explain yourself when Bucky shushes you. "You don't have to explain sweetheart." He kisses the crown of your head, your hair still wet. "You can talk when you're ready." You nod, continuously wondering how you found someone so caring and endearing. "I just..." You looked up at Bucky, his blue eyes shining down at you with such love. "I felt like I was drowning." He nods, "Sometimes we can't help but drown, doll."

Kissing your forehead once again, he squeezes your body tighter to his. "But I'll be there every time to pull you from the water.

[aquaticmercy]

Hot Chocolate?

Summary: Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and can’t find you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : PTSD, nightmares, panic. very slight cursing. hurt/comfort. Very much an angsty fic.

Requested by : myself again 

Word count : 1.4k

Note : As someone who has struggled with sleep disorders, writing this helped me reach a strange catharsis. Since today is World Mental Health day, please check up on your friends, my loves! Oh and I am still accepting requests, I just have enough prompts for the rest of this week and will be replying to your asks at the start of next week! Also, do Americans use electric kettles? Sincerely, someone who lives in England.

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

Bucky shot awake. He shuddered, trying to bat away the lingering visions of his nightmare that clung to him like a drenched blanket.

He found his lungs grasping for air with panic gasps as his eyes darted around the bedroom. The shadows casted by the starlight filtered through the curtains took shapes that made his heart race. For a split second, he thought he wasn’t in his apartment anymore. He was back in the Siberian Hydra lab, cold metal restraints nipping into his skin. He heard his handler’s voice speaking Russian, echoing the room with his old trigger words.

He forced himself out of this terrified state, grounding himself in reality. His chest was heaving, his eyes were bleary. Instinctively, his hand reached for the space next to him. 

It was empty.

You weren’t there.

A wave of panic crashed over him, and this was far more constricting than the terror of his nightmares. His heart started pounding more violently in his chest. His fingers grazed the sheets where you should have been. You had at least been gone long enough for the pillows to grow cold.

He could feel his pulse in his veins, each beat hammering the insides of his skull. His mind spiralled uncontrollably, thoughts feeding off the remains of the nightmare and twisting them into something much worse.

Had you left him? 

What did he do? 

Had he driven you away?

Was this it?

Bucky hastily threw off the covers, sprawling it all on your bedroom floor. He stumbled out of bed, mind clouded with fear and panic. The apartment was eerily quiet— too quiet for him to handle on his own. Too quiet for his overwhelmingly loud thoughts.

He waded through the hall as if he was four feet deep in muddy waters, his bare feet softly thudding against the floorboards. The faint sound of water boiling reached his ears. His breath hitched, his heart racing.

Emerging into the open space, his eyes darted around the dark living room, his gaze finally landing on the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He walked towards the kitchen.

There you were.

You were standing by the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, the other resting on the kettle. You were so beautiful. So perfect, compared to him.

You looked lost in thought, your posture relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him, though you were unaware.

Bucky’s feet stayed where he was for a moment, as if ice had frozen over him. Relief washed over him so fast that it nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs. 

You were here. You hadn’t left. 

The relief was quickly replaced by the gnawing ache of guilt, the kind that made his chest feel tight and his head swim feel like it was underwater. He’d thought you were gone, and the mere thought of it had sent him into a spiralling depth. How pathetic.

He couldn’t help it. He constantly felt like teetering on the edge of losing you. Like every day with you was borrowed time. Like he had already stayed his welcome. Like he wasn’t worthy of holding you in his arms.

Perhaps the reason he was so jaded sometimes, was that he was sure you’d wake up and realise he was too broken, too damaged. 

When he played this scenario in his head, you’d walk out the door, leaving him a shell of the man he is now. He thought about it more that he’d care to admit.

His heart was still pounding in his chest as he moved closer to you. His footsteps were slow and uncertain. Your eyes lifted to meet his stormy blue ones as he entered the kitchen, your brow furrowing in concern when you saw his pale, shaking face.

"Bucky?" your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. 

He shivered a bit, unable to form words for just a second. The ache in his stomach and the ball in his throat made it impossible to speak. His eyes dropped to the floor, shame curling a painful knot in his core. 

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” he finally muttered, struggling to get every word out, as if he was swallowing glass. “I thought…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence too painful to say out loud. Instead, small sobs escaped his lips.

You set the mug down on the counter and closed the distance between the two. Your hand found his arm, your fingers warm against the cool vibranium. 

“Hey,” you said gently, willing your voice to be as soothing as can be, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky’s gaze stayed fixed on nothingness. You could hear his jaw clicking nervously, like a man terrified for his life. 

“I thought you’d left,” he admitted in a cracked whisper, sounding as fragile as he felt. “Thought I’d… driven you away.”

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. He sounded like a whimpering puppy, begging to be held.

He had such a raw, vulnerable nature that he tried his best to keep hidden all the damn time. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as he allowed you to. You needed him to know you were never letting him go.

At first, his body was frozen like a petrified statue— he wasn’t sure he deserved the comfort. But slowly, his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“I’m right here, darling,” You whispered. Your words were firm but gentle. “I’m always right here.”

He let out a shaky breath. His forehead dropped to rest against the top of your head, breathing on your scent— the scent that always brought him a sense of calm. “I don’t… I don’t know why I keep thinking you’ll leave.”

“I’m not.” You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “I’m not,” you repeated again, hoping that if you said it enough times, he’d finally believe it.

The sincerity of those two simple words made his throat tighten, his chest constricting under the weight of emotions he had always struggled to fully process. He had never ever wrapped his head around how you could stand here, looking at him—someone so broken and damaged—with such gentle desire. He had never believed he deserved it.

But he wanted to believe, to trust that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he always feared. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t going to leave him behind like he feared you would.

The faint shimmer of tears fractured the soft kitchen light. He was at a loss of words at how you were holding him together, when he couldn't even do it for himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I keep putting you through this.”

Your hand found his, fingers intertwining with his. Your grip was warm, It was reassuring and steady. “Don’t be,” you said softly. You could tell that he had a nightmare. You learned the signs— the shaking, the sweating. The look of restlessness despite being asleep for the last several hours. “You just had a rough night.”

Bucky trembled against you, feeling him unravelling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was short and it came in shaky bursts. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot and heavy, soaking into your skin. They started quietly, a gentle release, but soon turned into shuddering sobs that echoed against the kitchen counter, the walls, the floors.

His grip tightened, fingers twirling into the fabric of your shirt as if you were his anchor in this reality. Each sob was raw, steeped in guilt and in the fear of losing you.

No matter how vulnerable he felt, he knew that in your embrace, there was no judgement. You held him tighter, whispering soft reassurances and sweet nothings— promises that you’d stay with him forever and ever. Until the end of time. Until your heart gave out.

“Do you want hot chocolate, too?” you asked softly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a small laugh, your words a shocking catharsis, bringing him out of the spiral. 

Oh, you always knew how to say the right thing at the right time.

He nodded, squeezing your hand one more time, just to reassure himself that you were real, that you weren’t slipping away.

You smiled gently at his quiet laugh, slightly reaching out to turn the electric kettle back on again without letting your grip on him falter.

As the kettle hummed in the background, Bucky held you close, finally convincing himself that no matter how dark the nightmares were, you would always be there when he woke up.

-end

[fiprobably]

🙏 🫱 Look.

[orwintr]