#Sebastian Stan gif

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. ���Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bubbarnes]

“... but everything here felt like it had to be earned.”

[drdawnbreaker]

Me for real right now:

to love is to burn

𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖! 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙭 𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙖! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || You go into heat at the worst moment in the history of time, maybe ever.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || unprotected sex. alpha/omega dynamics. knotting. oral fixation. breeding kink. fingering. heat. captivity. usual hydra shenanigans. idiots in love. PWP. MINORS DNI 🔞 if any of this makes you uncomfortable then please do not read!

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

This is the first time I’ve written a/b/o dynamics, so please be kind. I hope you like it :)

second part here: little red riding hood

This. Wasn’t. Supposed. To. Happen.

This was the first thought that came across your mind as you blinked your eyes open. You looked around to see you were laying down in some old decrepit cell.

The light across the room was just too bright and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your head was pounding and you pressed your fingers to your forehead. “Hey. Are you okay?” The voice was soothing and you unintentionally sighed.

You turned your head around to see Bucky bending over you with concern. “Yeah… kinda okay.” Whatever those idiots had injected into you was making you warm and achy everywhere.

You and Bucky had come on a surveillance mission of a supposedly abandoned hydra base. But someone had tipped off your plan and the base wasn’t as abandoned as expected.

The hydra team had taken you by surprise and injected some substance into your necks and you’d blacked out only to wake up in this dirty cell with Bucky besides you.

A dull pain was starting at the base of your hips, and you were familiar with that kind of pain in your heats, but this definitely wasn’t it as your heat wasn’t due for another two weeks. It must be due to that stupid chemical, you thought.

“Are you sure? You seem a little… off.” Bucky couldn’t place what it was, but his instincts were on high alert. He had woken up a little earlier than you and like a caged beast, he had mapped out all the places of this cell.

There wasn’t really an exit except the door, which was made of some metal and wasn’t easily bending. If it was only him, he honestly wouldn’t have cared much, but you too were involved and he couldn’t take risks.

But the primal instinct to protect you was really surging up in him. The entire time he was sitting ahead of you, facing the door. If someone came, they had to go through him to reach you.

“Yeah Bucky… I’m….” Before you could complete the sentence, an intense cramp built up in your core. Closing your eyes, you held Bucky’s arm tightly and twisted in pain.

Seeing you in distress, Bucky pulled you up and placed your head on his lap. He soothingly ran his hand on your forehead and noticed that sweat had started forming on your skin.

Unknowingly, he started purring deep in his chest to calm you down. The steady rumbling, did help you ease down from your panic. And you wiggled yourself further in his lap until you were resting your head on his shoulder.

Bucky’s nose twitched as a heady scent started permeating the space. It took him a moment to realise the intoxicating ambrosial scent was none other than yours.

His eyes widened as the realisation hit him, you were going into a heat.

Bucky had loved you for a very long time now and he wanted nothing more than to be your alpha. But if you went into heat while being captive, he wouldn’t be able to help you.

And even if he did, you would be too deep into heat to properly consent and would definitely hate him later on. He didn’t know what gods he had angered to deserve such a fate.

On the other hand, you couldn’t help but bury your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and scent him. He sat shock still as you rubbed your nose and started nibbling wet little sucks on his neck.

He shook himself out of it when he felt your tongue lick him. He knew he shouldn’t be harsh, but if he didn’t stop you, he couldn’t guarantee what he would do. He was already hard from your little suckles.

When you were pulled away from Bucky, you couldn’t help but whine, “Alpha…” your eyes were closed and you were lost in the pain to notice your words.

You calling him alpha in a breathy moan sent blood rushing straight to Bucky’s dick. It was his fantasy to which he fucked his fist at night and hearing you say it but unable to do anything made Bucky more than a little furious.

“Calm down and open your eyes.” Bucky used his alpha voice which had you responding to him in no time. He hated doing that, but he knew he had to.

Opening your eyes, you could at least comprehend a little of your surrounding. After realising you were literally laying in Bucky’s arms with his scent invading your senses, you jerked back as if burnt.

You didn’t hate Bucky, not in the slightest. Instead you loved him, more than you should. But he was clearly not interested in you and so you never confessed your feelings. You just took your happiness from being his friend.

You just scented him and called him an alpha, which was completely unacceptable. Your body had decided to go into heat at the worst place ever and you just hoped it won’t hurt your friendship with Bucky.

His nostrils were flared and his jaw was clenched and his eyes were shut. Alpha is angry. You shook your head, no, he’s not your alpha. “I… I’m sorry.” You whimpered out as you crawled back into a corner.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, he was barely controlling himself from pouncing on you. He was the one supposed to say sorry. “What are you sorry for?” He was just going to add omega but he gladly bit his tongue.

“I shouldn’t have gone into heat and… done that.” You said pointing at his neck. Bucky’s neck was still wet with your saliva. Bucky shook his head and crawled up closer to you, his instincts were screaming at him to hold you close.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry. I’ll try my best to get us out of here.” Overwhelmed with emotions, you couldn’t help but leap into Bucky’s outstretched arms.

Hugging him tight, you whispered into ear, “Bucky, I’ll be… uhhh…, desperate after some time. I won’t be able to stop myself.” You knew you had to clear this topic while you were still thinking.

“I know.” Bucky murmured into your hair. “Do you mind if I help you?” Bucky knew it would be hell for him to see you in pain. Your eyes snapped up at him and for a minute he thought he messed up.

“Will you do it. Please? It’s… it’s too painful.” You spat out as the cramps started once again. You squirmed and wiggled in his hands as you tried to reduce the pain and all the time Bucky purred and cooed at you.

“It would be my honour.” Bucky quickly replied, he knew it would only get worse with time. “Fuck the formalities Bucky. I’ve wanted you for sooo long. I’ve always thought about how hard you’d fuck me.” You had really lost your filter.

“Really?” For a whole minute, in his happiness, Bucky forgot that you both were imprisoned. “Yea… yeah. I thought.. you didn’t like me.” Bucky couldn’t believe he had given that impression.

“I love you, goddamnit.” Now it was your time to be surprised. “Oh Bucky, I love you too. I wish we had chosen a better time for this though.” You giggled through the pain.

Just as your mouths were going to connect in a kiss, the door slammed open. If you weren’t in the peak stages of heat, you would’ve taken your fighting stance by now. But currently you didn’t care about anything except your alpha.

“Times up lover birds.” One of the alphas said in a crude mocking tone. And at that very instance, something inside Bucky changed. You felt it as your alpha went still.

Bucky didn’t know exactly what it was. But it was an odd mixture of his feral alpha instinct protect your omega added with the deadly combination of the winter soldier and the sharpness of the white wolf.

He only had two goals in his mind, first, take out the threats, second, satisfy his omega. With cold eyes, he calculated each and every hydra agent and the level of strength they possessed.

Your nose twitched with the pungent smell of the other alphas as they walked in further. You buried your face in your alpha’a chest. You knew he would protect you no matter what.

Bucky slowly untangled you from himself without losing eyes contact with the agents. You whined and complained the entire time, “Alpha please don’t go.” He could feel how much you needed him,

“Shhhh,… count till fifteen, omega and I’ll be back by then.” He curled the fingers of his vibranium arm as he rose to his full height. Within the blink of an eye, he was upon the hydra goons, taking them down one by one.

Counting was difficult for you in your lust filled haze. All you could think about was the thick knot of your alpha and how it would fill you up. But since Bucky had told you to count, you did start counting till ten.

You were on thirteen when Bucky came back. You had stared with wide eyes in the beginning as he had fought, but then your need had overtaken your senses and you had started rubbing yourself.

The tactical suit didn’t really give much friction but something was better than nothing. When Bucky came back, you rubbed your nose all over his neck to scent him again.

Without missing much time, Bucky picked you up bridal style, he knew you won’t be able to walk in your state. “Hold onto me tight.” Bucky himself was getting desperate by the second.

You slung your arms around him as he carried you out of the cell. With eyes of a hawk, Bucky searched each and every corner of the warehouse before walking ahead.

Gladly the quinjet wasn’t much far away and Bucky breathed out with relief when you walked inside. Fucking you in the warehouse or the quinjet wasn’t an option so he had to reach the Avengers tower before it was too late.

You had once again retreated to sucking Bucky’s neck with your wet lips and tongue as he ensured the jet was at the right altitude before putting it on autopilot.

He took a seat and groaned when you curled around him. Your slick had now seeped through your pants and you were desperately rubbing yourself on Bucky’s thigh.

“Alpha, I’m so… empty. Please alpha please. Fill me up!” You had no idea of the effect your words had on him. With a growl, he finally pulled you in for a kiss.

The kiss was sloppy and a little too desperate. It was your first kiss with Bucky, but it felt as if you had spent years perfecting it. You started whining in his mouth when the friction his thigh provided wasn’t enough.

“Need you.” Bucky pulled your pants just down so that he could finally touch your sopping pussy. Your back arched as his fingers diligently rubbed your aching clit.

It wasn’t enough, not even close to what you needed; but it was at least soothing the deep ache in your belly. Your moans were swallowed by Bucky and you closed your eyes in relief as you lost yourself in the kiss.

Your eyes flew open the moment Bucky pushed two thick fingers into your needy hole. You squirmed at the sensation of finally being filled. He furiously pumped his fingers into you as you clenched around him.

“Alpha… ummm, Bucky!..” you were constantly chanting his name. Bucky wanted nothing more than to put you on the floor of the jet, make you present for him, fuck you till you saw stars, and knot you so good that you forgot about everything except him.

But he couldn’t do that, little more patience, he talked himself through his urges. Seeing you had bared your neck in submission, Bucky latched on to your scent gland.

He had the sense to not bite you right now,… though you loved him, and it wouldn’t be so bad, you’d be his forever, you’d carry his mark and be filled with his pups,… NO.

He couldn’t do that, you had trusted him and he wasn’t going to let you down. So for the time being, he just had his fill in sucking and nibbling your neck. As he licked your gland, your heat fueled pheromones made him even more feral.

His hot, wet mouth right over your scent gland was enough to drive you over the edge. “Ahhh, right there omega.” Your slick leaked on his hand as you came around his fingers. Your eyes were hazy and heavy and you had look on your face that screamed satisfied.

Bucky was relieved when he checked to see you weren’t very far from the tower. He was barely hanging by a string of dignity to not knot you in front of everyone else and he didn’t know how long that string went. He reluctantly pulled his fingers out and pulled your pants up again.

“Noooo,… please, I need more. I… I… pleaseee.” You were so empty all of a sudden that you couldn’t quite formulate a sentence. “Shhh. I won’t give you what you want. Not right now.”

Your lower lips started wobbling and tears sprang in your eyes. Alpha doesn’t want to knot me. Alpha doesn’t want to make me his. I’ve been a bad omega.

“What happened?” Bucky’s voice was very tender and concerned unlike before. “You… you don’t wanna knot me. I… I must’ve been a bad girl.” Bucky couldn’t believe how stupid he was. He should’ve thought before saying as ill worded as that.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just wanted to say that I can’t do it here.” He said pointing to the jet. “You’re the sweetest girl ever. And I promise you omega, the moment we reach our room I’m going to fill you up so good you’d be leaking me for days.”

Your eyes perked up and you gave him a sweet smile and rested your head on his chest. “I love you.” Your hot breath fell on his ear as you whispered. You believed your alpha, most importantly, you believed Bucky.

Bucky traced your lower lip with his thumb before putting it in your mouth. He literally felt you melt around his thumb as you sucked on it. A small smile spread across his face when he realised you loved having your mouth around something. His neck, his thumb… his cock.

You both jerked up as the FRIDAY announced that you had reached your destination. Bucky picked you again and walked out without caring much for anything else.

The entire way up to your room was an hell of a ride. Bucky entire posture and eyes were saying touch her and I’ll fuck you up. And he was growling at every other person on the way up, including Steve who had come to see you.

When you reached Bucky’s suite, he locked the door shut and walked into his bedroom. Bucky shifted your entire weight on his metal arm as he quickly stripped his bedsheets and duvets and collected all the clothes and covers and created a messy nest on the floor.

“I’ll make you the biggest and the softest nest once this is done. Where you and our pups will be safe.” You preened at the mention of pups and wiggled in his arms.

He had lately been seeing some sweet domestic videos on YouTube called ‘how to make a nest’ and a few others. It wasn’t half as beautiful as they had shown, but it would do for the time being.

You were sweating profusely and you wanted clothes gone by all cost. Bucky seemed to read your mind as in the very next second he started removing your clothes.

It didn’t take much time for you to be naked and he followed closely. You breathed comfortably when the cool air of the room finally enveloped your body. Your and Bucky’s scents intermingled and together it smelled so perfect, it smelled like home.

Without waiting for anything further, you jumped into the overly fluffy nest and snuggled your nose into one of Bucky’s Henley.

Turning on your stomach, you raised your ass up, presenting for Bucky. All you head was a loud growl before Bucky pounced on you. “Oh omega mine, I’m going to give ya all you need.”

Fuck. Breed. Repeat. Was all that was going on in Bucky’s brain. He spread out the globes of your ass to see your slick drip down on the sheets. He wanted to taste you, but he was painfully hard and he could eat you out later on.

Placing a hand on your neck, he guided his cock to your hole with his other hand. He entered you with one strong thrust. “You’re taking me so well.” He gave you a moment to adjust before beginning to ram into you with abandon.

When Bucky stuffed you full of his cock, all thoughts left your body. He was so thick and long, he touched such sensitive spots you didn’t even know they existed. Your omega hindbrain did a happy little dance at being finally being satisfied.

You spread your legs even more as Bucky snapped his hips into yours. His knot had started swelling at the base and your toes curled at the sensation of it spearing you.

His tongue and lips were caressing your neck as his flesh hand tweaked your nipples. His metal arm was tightly holding on to your waist, to keep you steady. Your hands were curled into the covers and your face was buried in the pillows.

“You’re gonna be so full of me. I’m gonna fill you up so good that you’ll be pregnant with my pups in no time. You’d look so good, glowing like a goddess, keeping our pups safe. Everyone else would know who your alpha is.”

You shuddered at his words and he got off on the power he had over you. “Yes alpha! You’re making me feel so good. I need your knot. Breed me Bucky! Make me yours!” Your eyes were closed and you were babbling all your nasty thoughts.

“Fuck… my perfect omega. You were made for me!” His voice was thunderous in your ear and you moaned. The noise of slapping of skin reverberated throughout the room.

Pleasure was flowing through your veins as Bucky kept up his pace. Your bodies were covered with sweat, tears and slick and your scents were stagnating the room.

Your mouth was slack open and seeing the opportunity, Bucky inserted two of his flesh fingers into your mouth and you instantly started suckling them.

“Mine.” Bucky snarled in your ear.

That one word was enough to make you come. It felt like an explosion as pleasure raked through your body. You felt his knot swell up and your legs tinged with anticipation.

“Yours Bucky. Only yours.” Your voice was low as you still rode the highs of pleasure but it was enough for Bucky’s super soldier hearing to pick up. He surround himself in your scent by burying his face between your shoulder and neck.

You cried out as his thick knot finally caught and you two fitted like a puzzle. You felt his hot seed fill you and it triggered another orgasm. The only thing you could feel and understand was Bucky and his knot.

You were floating on a cloud of bliss as Bucky slowly rocked into you despite being locked. It was much better than the fantasies you came up with at night. And the best part was, you knew this wasn’t the last time.

Bucky’s huge arms enveloped around you like a cocoon. You slightly opened your eyes to see him smiling down at you. “What?” Your heat had somewhat subsided but you knew it would come back soon enough.

“Can’t believe how lucky I am.” He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead which somehow felt more intimate than fucking. His blue eyes were twinkling with happiness and you were sure yours were too. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my big bad alpha.” You chuckled as Bucky gasped. “Hey! Don’t give me ideas. Though you’d look so good in a red cape. I’d chase you all the way in the forest and you know I’ll get you. And then there won’t be anyone else to save my sweet little omega.”

“Maybe… I don’t want to be saved.” You quipped with a wink.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 13

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : uhhhh I might extend this to 18 parts instead of the 17 planned. Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Beast to the Wild”

Sunday afternoon.

Yelena arrived as quickly as she could.

She found Sam standing outside the control room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looked like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall but was holding himself back, his usual calm composure cracking under the concern furrowed in his eyebrows.

“He’s in there,” Sam said, nodding toward the closed door. His voice was subdued in a way that sent a chill through her spine. “Hasn’t moved since it happened.”

Yelena frowned, glancing at the door. “How bad is it?” she asked, though the answer was already clawing at her stomach. 

“Bad,” Sam sighed, his eyes drifting down to his shoes.  “You know he gets when it’s her.”

Yelena did know. Too well. She nodded, swallowing hard and squaring her shoulders.

She paused at the door, steeling herself. She already knew what was coming—the anger, the accusations. She could already hear his voice in her mind: “Are you happy now? Are you happy that she knows? Are you happy now that she’s gone?”

But when she stepped inside, the words she braced for didn’t come. 

Bucky was hunched over the console, his shoulders bowed as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His hands were in his hair, fingers raking into his scalp like he could pull himself out of whatever hell he had occupied. The screens in front of him flickered with useless data: satellite feeds, news updates, and endless blank logs that told him nothing. 

Yelena’s heart twisted at the sight of the grieving supersoldier. She almost hesitated.

But she couldn’t stop— not now. Not when it was you. Not when it was her best friend.

She stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

“Barnes,” she said, her voice fragile but steady.

He didn’t look at her. His teeth clenched, and for a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to respond. He had an emptiness in his eyes— no rage. No anger. Just all-consuming guilt.

Then he exhaled, ragged and uneven. It was like it hurt him just to breathe. 

“I fucked up,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “She’s gone, and it’s my fault.” 

Yelena froze. She had expected yelling, had braced for misplaced blame. But this—this quiet, devastating admission—was worse. She took a slow step closer, her fist clenched at her sides. 

“What exactly happened?” she asked carefully, her stomach knotting.

He laughed, but it was a bitter, hollow sound. “What didn’t happen?” He finally looked up at her, and the disbelief in his eyes hit her like a punch to the gut. “She broke in. She ran. She disabled tracking, cloaked the jet. I can’t—” His voice broke, and he dropped his head into his hands again. “I can’t find her.”

Yelena’s chest tightened. 

You were out there somewhere, unreachable, and Bucky was destroying himself for it, piece by piece. 

“She’s strong,” Yelena said, her voice firm even as fear clawed at her insides. “Rhodey said she’s doing great on her flight training. She’ll be okay.” 

“Will she?” Bucky snapped, looking up sharply. His voice faltered, the anger draining out of him as quickly as it had flared. He slumped back in his chair, his hands trembling as they rested on the desk. He tapped a frantic rhythm on the wood. “I should have been honest with her from the start, I should’ve listened to you, I should—fuck, what if she’s in danger? What if she—” 

He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Yelena could see it in his eyes— the fear that was eating him alive, torturing him from the inside out.

She knew how capable you were, but she also knew the risks of going rogue like this, cutting yourself off from your lifeline.

“She’ll come back,” Yelena said firmly, though not entirely convinced. 

Bucky shook his head. His blue eyes were distant, staring at the horizon as if he was imagining you coming back to him. “What if she doesn’t?”

The silence that followed was unbearable, thick with unspoken fears neither of them were eager to vocalise. Yelena bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay calm, to keep a level head. But inside, her thoughts were racing. If something had happened to you—if you didn't return—she didn’t know how Bucky would survive it. 

In all honesty, She didn’t know how she would survive it.

"That's not an option," Yelena said again, her voice quieter. "And when she comes back, you're going to fix this. We’re going to fix this."  

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat tightening around the air he needed so desperately to breathe. "That’s what we got wrong," he said, his voice trembling. "She didn’t need fixing. She never did." His muscles tensed as the realisation sank in. He’d been so consumed with trying to shield you, rearranging your life to protect you from the truth, that he couldn’t see the damage his silence was doing. And Yelena—she lacked the courage to tell you when he failed. She’d built a friendship with you, but always held herself at arm’s length, unwilling to face the thought of you shattered, bruised, or hollowed out. In their misguided attempts to fix you, Bucky had kept you blind to the truth, while Yelena had refused to acknowledge away from the parts of you that were still lost, too afraid to confront what lay beneath. "She just needed a push,” Bucky continued.

"Then we’ll give her that," Yelena said softly, her own voice crackling.

Bucky didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the screens in front of him, scanning for something, anything, that might tell him where you were. 

But there was nothing. 

Just static and silence.

Yelena pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. They were both terrified for you, for what might have happened, for what still could. But she wasn’t going to leave him alone in this. And maybe, she needed someone who understood.

Monday.

The days that followed were nothing but an endless stretch of anxiety, a string of minutes that dragged into hours, into days. Bucky paced the compound like a caged animal that had been wounded, unable to rest, unable to let himself sleep, not while you were out there—wherever there was. 

You could be anywhere.

The first night, he’d convinced himself that you’d return before sunrise. You had to. He had barely let himself leave the command room, his eyes glued to the screen as if he could will a blip to appear on the radar. But hour after hour passed, and there was only silence. 

Tuesday.

The second day, Sam had finally pulled him aside, brow furrowed with a look of worry he had only seen on his friend’s face a few times before. “You need to sleep,” Sam had said, trying to talk some sense into him. But Bucky waved him off, his chest tight, his pulse thundering with a primal fear he didn’t know how to control.

Wednesday.

By the third day, his hands trembled. 

He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even thought about it. His world was confined to the four walls of the control room, where every incoming call, every email, and every intel update had no real consequence, and every dead end became a reminder that you were still missing. Yelena kept coming in, putting her hand hesitantly on his shoulder from time to time.

Yelena was exhausted too, every ounce of her strength spent holding herself together. It took everything she had not to retreat to the solitude of an empty apartment and break down, the way she had the first time.

She didn’t offer empty reassurances anymore— she knew Bucky wouldn’t believe them. She gave him the updates as they were: no news, no sightings, no leads.

Every minute chipped away at his mind. You could be hurt, or worse—

He didn’t let himself finish that thought. 

Outside the window, the sky cycled through night and day. The compound, usually bustling with heroes and friends alike, felt quiet. Everyone helped  in any way they could— Rhodey going on daily flights to scan surrounding areas, Scott scouring the cyber security networks for any sign of you. They even got Bruce and Clint to search for leads.

Bucky would glance up from the monitors, hoping to catch a glimpse of you walking through the door, half-dazed, explaining how it was all a misunderstanding. But the doorway remained empty. 

He remained alone.

Somewhere between the updates, Sam tried to get him to rest again, even pulled a chair over, but Bucky barely listened to him. His mind was too noisy, a nonstop assault of what-ifs and maybes.

When Yelena reported back for the fifth time that day, her voice a desperate apology, Bucky had wanted to scream. He was so damn tired of nothing, of waiting, of feeling useless.

“Bucky,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re going to burn yourself out. You need—”

He shook his head, the words too hard to find, too tangled in the mess of vines growing like weeds in his chest. “She’s out there, and it’s my fault,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t just… stop.”

Yelena didn’t argue.

She knew that until you were safe, Bucky would not rest. Could not rest.

Another hour. Another dead end.

And then another.

Thursday.

The fourth day was cold and grey, as if the sky itself was scolding him of his failures as a partner— as a friend. The weather disturbances had rendered the radar useless, and there was nothing he could do but wait it out. 

Bucky hadn’t left the command centre in over seventy-two hours, his bloodshot eyes glued to the monitors that had long stopped giving any useful information. He was exhausted to the bone, but the thought of you out there kept him wired, kept his muscles tense, his fists clenched. But even his supersoldier physiology was working overtime, and he knew that at some point, it would catch up with him.

Yelena was beside him, uncharacteristically still. Even Sam, who usually had a quip ready for any situation, had fallen silent, his hands folded tightly as they all waited for something they didn’t know would even come.

Then, without warning, the heavy security doors of the compound opened with a metallic creak that shattered the silence. 

Bucky’s eyes shot up, and his heart stopped for a beat. He’d imagined this moment so many times in the past few days that he couldn’t believe it at first. 

But there you were, standing in the doorway.

Except you were barely standing.

Blood smeared your arms, your knuckles so bruised and raw that he could see the whites of your bones underneath, your clothes torn in places he didn’t want to look too closely at. Your face was marked with cuts, some shallow, others deep enough to have left trails of dried blood down your cheek. 

And in your hand, glinting dully, was a golden blade encrusted in cryptic symbols, the artefact he’d decided you weren’t ready for. The one he’d postponed for your own safety, to keep you from facing too much, too soon.

Bucky felt his chest seize as he looked at you, relief and horror washing over him in equal measure.

Relief that you were here, you were alive— but gut wrenching horror at the state you were in.

No one dared to speak as you strode forward. There was no remaining a softness in your gaze, no relief in your expression. Just in unwavering, simmering anger as you approached the table in the middle of the room. Without a word, you threw the artefact down, the metal hitting the surface with a loud, echoing clink. The dagger gleamed in the dim light, almost mocking them all with its careless beauty.

Bucky’s chest tightened as he fought to breathe, to form the words that could somehow repair the chasm between you, but nothing came. Nothing except the sharpness of your stare, carving into him with the precision of a blade. 

Bucky moved toward you instinctively, his hand reaching out. Before he could speak, you took a shaky step backward. He could see it then, the way your body was barely holding itself together, the exhaustion painted in every line of your face, the pain you were trying to hide. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. "Y-you alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with worry, his brow creased as he took in your injuries.

You didn’t answer; it was a stupid question. Sam Wilson had eyes, did he not? You pressed your lips into a thin line, and your gaze shifted from Sam to Bucky.

“You didn’t think I could do it,” you said finally, your voice rough and broken from what had to have been hours of screaming or fighting. “So I went alone. I got it alone.”

Bucky’s heart pounded. Every part of him wanted to reach out, to say something—anything—that would make you understand. 

You swayed slightly, a tremor running through your legs, but you stubbornly held yourself up, refusing to let the pain break you. “You think I’m not ready for this,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger. “You think I can’t handle it. But I got the job done, didn’t I?”

Bucky flinched at the accusation. He’d spent days trapped in the fear that he’d lost, that his choices, his need to protect you, had driven you away for good. 

“Didn’t I?!” you repeated. And now, here you were, throwing it all back in his face, reminding him of every time he had second-guessed you, every time he’d tried to make decisions for you.

He couldn’t bring himself to respond. All he could do was stare at you as he took in the damage you’d suffered. It was my fault, he thought.

“I don’t need you,” you snapped at him.

He wanted to argue, to beg, to crumble before you and tell you how wrong he’d been. But all he could do was stand there, drowning in the horror of his own failure and the unbearable truth that you might mean it.

Yelena’s breath caught in her lungs, her composure cracking for just a moment as her eyes swept over the bruises, the cuts, the blood staining your skin. She winced, the sight hitting her harder than she’d expected, but she forced herself to keep looking. You deserved that—deserved to be seen, not turned away from like some broken thing. You deserved respect, even in your battered state, even when her gut twisted at the thought of what you’d endured, your mere presence demanded that she hold your gaze and acknowledge your strength. She was no longer going to threaten people behind your back to try and save you. If she had something to say, she would have to say it to your face. “I—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to silence the room. You didn’t need her apologies, didn’t want her pity.

But your strength had limits. And as you stood there— the adrenaline finally crashing, your body sagging in the aftermath of the exhaustion— the toll of what you’d gone through catching up with you. 

Your knees buckled, and before anyone could react, you collapsed, your body crumpling to the floor.

Bucky was at your side in an instant, his arms slipping around you, supporting you as gently as he could despite his own shaking hands. He pressed his hand against the back of your head, his fingers in your hair as he whispered your name, his voice breaking. 

You were unconscious, breathing shallow, your face finally softening in the grip of sleep.

For a moment, no one spoke. Bucky’s gaze remained on you, his thumb gently tracing the line of a bruise on your cheek, his heart breaking as he truly saw the cost of what you’d done to prove yourself.

Sam stepped forward, his hand settling on Bucky’s shoulder. He didn't say anything, didn’t need to. Yelena hovered nearby, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes swimming in sadness that matched the guilt in her eyes.

As he held you, he vowed he would make it right. He didn’t know how, he knew that when you woke up—when you opened those furious eyes— he would be there. 

He wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t try to hide anything from you.

Because he’d learned, far too late, that you didn’t need protecting. You needed trust. 

And he would have to earn it back one step at a time.

-to be continued…

Taglist: @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x 

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @avatarofthetimelords @bckynatt @winchestert101 @zemosprincesa 

@nngkay @hiireadstuff @sapphirebarnes @thatesqcrush @bethexo07 

@florie1 @nyutasgirl @coraliix @harrysgothicbitch @jules-and-gemss

@infqnitysblog @isnow-0r-never @roofwitty779 @baw1066 @wasalreadyhere

@cjand10 @greatmistakes @winterslove1917 @calwitch @sebastians-love

@gyllord @brckenmemories @ethereal-witch24 @diffidentphantom

@avatarofthetimelords @lumidotexe @oscarissac2099 @currentfacination @pono-pura-vida

@blackbirdwitch22 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @ayayaeyato @btssaysstudy @unaxv

@otterlycanadian @lifeisbutadream444 @mostlymarvelgirl @ozwriterchick @m1cky-y-y

@ordelixx @jadeofspadesxp @generousmiraclebread @jeremyrennermakesmesmile@titasweetandsour 

@one-lengthiness36 @chimchoom @waitingformysandman @eanthedeadqueen13 @hi172826

@starsmoonn @notsostrangerthing @wintercrows

@lomlbuckybarnes gets a special shout out for figuring it out🫡

[zanephillips]

Political Animals 1.02 "Second Time Around"

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Protected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is always quick to protect you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Protective!Bucky, brief mention of blood, guns, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF MADE BY ME! I know it’s not perfect, but I tried

Everything around you was chaotic. Bullets and debris were flying. The sounds of guns being fired. You lost track of how many times you’ve come close almost being shot. Luckily for you, you have fast reflexes and was able to move away before the bullets hit you. Bucky was watching you from a distance. He swore he aged 10 years every time he saw a bullet come close to you before you dodged it. He’s very protective of you and doesn’t like it when you’re hurt.

“Doll, please be careful.” Bucky says to you in his earpiece.

“I am being careful, Sarge.” You say, giving him a thumbs up.

He watched you dodge another bullet shortly after saying that. Bucky took a deep breath before going back to focusing on the mission. You aimed your gun at your target and shot at him, taking him down with ease. You continued to take people down with ease till someone tackled you from behind. You yelped when you hit the concrete, knocking your gun out of your hand. Bucky heard the sound of your yelp and looked over at you.

You grunted, trying to get the guy off of you. You looked in front of you, seeing that your gun was too far out of reach for you to grab and shoot the guy. You groaned loudly. That’s when you realized you have a knife in your thigh holster. You grabbed it and reached behind you, blindly trying to stab the guy, which you did on the first try, stabbing him in the side. The guy cried out in pain and got off of you, holding his now bloody side. You rolled over onto your back, trying to regroup yourself. You were about to stand up when you heard Yelena’s voice.

“Y/N, stay down!” Yelena shouts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked in front of you, seeing a truck flying towards you. Your eyes went wide and your body froze. Your mind was telling you to get up and run, but your body wasn’t reacting. All you could do was cover your head and hope the truck didn’t squash you. That’s when you heard the sound of vibranium colliding with metal. You uncovered your head and looked up to see Bucky standing in front of you and the truck landing behind you. It didn’t take you long to realize that Bucky stopped the truck front hitting you with his vibranium arm. Bucky turned around and looked down at you. He crouched down in front of you and gave you a hug.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks softly.

You were too in shock to answer him. Bucky unwrapped his arms from your body and checked you out for any injuries. You were fine, besides the cut you have on your forehead and the scrape you have on your knee.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked him when you watched his facial expression change from a softened look to a worried look.

“You have a cut on your forehead and a scraped knee.” Bucky tells you.

You looked down at your knee, noticing a little bit of blood and your tactical pants ripped due to you scraping your knee. You assumed that was from when you got tackled to the ground not too long ago. You put a hand on your forehead, feeling some blood when you touched the cut. You took your hand away from your forehead and looked at your hand. Your eyes went wide when you seen the blood.

“I’m bleeding.” You say, beginning to panic.

“Hey, focus on me.” Bucky cupped your cheeks to get you to look at him. “You’re going to be fine, doll. I’m going to patch you up and you’ll be good as new.” He promises.

You stared in his blue eyes and nodded your head. Bucky picked you up bridal style and took you inside of a building to get you patched up. He sat you down on a chair and went to find a first aid kit, which he found with ease. When he came back, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of you. He started with the scrape on your knee and put your leg across his lap.

“That’s going to sting.” You whimpered softly, watching him put some alcohol on a cotton ball.

“You can hold onto me if you want.” Bucky says.

You put one of your hands on his vibranium shoulder, preparing yourself for the stinging you’re about to feel on your knee. You hissed and winced when you felt the alcohol in the scrape, your nails digging in his black t-shirt. As Bucky was patching you up, realization hit you and your eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks softly with concern in his voice.

“That truck could’ve crushed me.” You say, still in shock.

“But it didn’t.” He says.

“What if it did?” You asked, thinking the worst.

Your mind was making you think the worst. Bucky stopped patching you up momentarily to gently cup your cheeks, getting you to look in his blue eyes.

“Hey, no. Don’t go there.” Bucky coos softly. “I stopped the truck from hitting you. I kept you safe.” He says.

Bucky kissed your forehead softly before going back to patching you up. You couldn’t help but watch him.

“Something on your pretty little mind, doll?” Bucky asks, not looking up from your scraped knee.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky stopped what he was doing when you gently caressed his bearded cheek and looked up at you. Before either of you knew it, your lips were on his. He was caught by surprise, but kissed you back. It took you a few seconds to realize what you were doing and pulled your lips away from his.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

“Cause I kissed you.” You say.

You were caught by surprise when Bucky kissed you softly. You two were so into the kiss that you guys didn’t hear Yelena walk in the room.

“Are you- oh, sorry.” Yelena apologizes, accidentally walking in on you and Bucky kissing.

You and Bucky quickly pulled away from each other and looked at Yelena with the look of embarrassment on your faces.

“I was gonna ask if Y/N is ok, but you two are clearly busy. I’ll come back later.” She says before walking out of the room.

You and Bucky bursted out laughing. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“That wasn’t our finest moment.” Bucky says.

“Agreed.” You say, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

After the little awkward moment, Bucky went back to patching you up, which didn’t take too long.

“There you go.” Bucky smiles. “See, I told you’d be good as new after you’re patched up.” He says, lighting up the mood.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He says.

“Also, thank you for saving me from that truck almost hitting me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I just want you to be protected.” He says softly, kissing your forehead, making you smile.

“If that person protecting me is you, I’ll be so protected.” You say, smiling up at him.

“I feel honored to be that person.” Bucky says, smiling back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[blahblahblahblogg]

I love that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. The goofiness is so attractive.

But why is he the way that he is?

[yourbuckies]

— Greg Santora

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N: Buck?! Why is your arm in my dishwasher?!

Bucky: my dishwasher broke

Y/N: gee I wonder why

Bucky: it’s not because of the arm!

Y/N: dude I got dishes to wash, take your arm out!

Bucky pulls out his robotic arm…

Y/N: oh wow it does clean well

[stilinskiderek]

A DIFFERENT MAN - 2024

[when-all-the-world-is-asleep]

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @biteofcherry

SEBASTIAN STAN 27th SCAD Savannah Film Festival

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I don't have the energy to actually write much about Sebastian knowing proper choking techniques, so just a quick thought:

Ignoring an obvious kinky undertone that I strongly get the vibe from for Seb, I judt know he's been choked a time or two and has picked up techniques through bascially osmosis, lmao, what if Seb knows how to choke someone properly because of his role for Bucky? The winter soldier does it a shit ton. He had to have been trained for that. Stunts don't fuck around and choreography takes time to learn. Time that, Chris, we know, takes less of. He picks up stunts wildly fast, being shown beats back to back and parroting them perfectly. Seb, like a normal human, takes more time.

So, Sebastian probably worked a lot more with the stunt doubles and stunt performers before finally having Chris show up for a few practice runs before the final shot.

They practice a lot.

They test a few different camera angles, trying to figure out exactly how to solve this artistic problem. The tension pulls Chris' muscles into a tangled knot of anticipation. He could vibrate out of his fucking skin.

The intensity of that repeat repeat repeat, hand-around-your-neck problem solving is hell. Sisyphean if the boulder were pressing on your throat and you liked it. It's the closest Chris has been to Seb. Maybe. They've shot lots of scenes. Lots of stunts. None quite like this, though. Even when they were wrestling, all but fucking grinding, for Captain America: Winter Soldier, Chris at least knew how terribly torturous that would be, how much he would struggle through gritted teeth not to get hard. Here, now, he didn't expect this. It hits.

It's good.

It shouldn't be. But it is.

Chris has been fucking lusting after Seb hard since that first film--who could stare up at Sebastian (standing on an apple box to give the illusion hieght difference for skinny Steve) and not fall madly in love lust with such a pretty man--and needing to have his fist, cold and hard yet so gentle and caring every time they call cut, wrapped around his throat for his fuckin' job only makes it worse.

It was worse already when Seb showed up to set jacked outta fucking control, looking thick as fuck, prowling around, heavy and taking up space but still being so fucking sweet.

It's worse than worse the next morning when Chris rolls over in bed, sleeping naked, to feel a low, thrumming ache deep in the tendons and muscles of his throat to go with the gentle, expected pulse of morning wood between his legs--he knows how he gets on set with Sebastian, so close to him, breathing in his cologne, watching his face evolve, choking back the constant urge to praise his skill, his beauty, his everything.

Chris knows, immediately, with such a sensation around his neck even without the assistance of a mirror that he's got bruising, probably faint. He's just pale enough for it to show, he's sure, but, yes, bruising.

Huh.

Chris swallows on reflex, his mouth suddenly dry, then again on purpose, reveling in the ghostly, intimate sensation of squeezing touch. Tight. Touch. Just enough constriction to make him start to feel the edge of dizzy, like being tipsy.

Yeah.

The memories of yesterday lazily replay in Chris' tired mind.

A shiver rolls through him, leaving behind an army of goosebumps raised over his bare skin despite the heat of his body trapped in his bedsheets. The idea of Sebastian touching him--touching him--his mark left on his body, pressed into his skin, reminding him of exactly what he did, grabbed him and pulled him close, biceps fucking bulging, shoulders shifting, eyes so intense, mouth pink, face, just, like that.

God.

Chris remains in his bed, swallowing, sweating, and... thinking... for a little longer than he should.

He's late for his call time.

And he absolutely does not blush when the makeup artist clicks their tongue, carefully brushing their fingers across his jaw this way and that to get a sense of the bruising, and tells him he should ask the director for a raise. The stunt performers get adjustments, you know, when they take a really hard fall, so should you. That, or, see if you can bruise Seb up in return--they don't mean it, everyone loves Seb on set. It's impossible not to, look at the guy!

Chris doesn't want a raise. He doesn't want... he wants... he kinda wants Seb to do it again. He might really want to ask Seb to show him how so he can use it against him 🥴🥴 He wants red-faced and gasping and hitching breaths that are more moans than anything else, he wants eyes rolling back, he wants trembling, he wants lips loosely whimpering tighter, harder, more, please 😮‍💨

[musette22]

I was watching some interviews with the boys and I noticed they're almost always on separate chairs seated a fair distance apart. Then when they're on a couch together Chris scoots until he's touching Sebastian. Why don't people want them to sit together. The two of them don't seem to have a personal space issue (Chris in particular seems to like to find excuses to touch Seb). Idk I just find it really cute that they're so affectionate with each other.

I knowwwwww it's so unfair 😠 I guess people were just scared they boys wouldn't be able to keep their hands off each other if they weren't kept apart most of the time. Which, you know, is pretty legitimate worry if you ask me 😌 They really don't have a personal space issue, especially when it comes to each other 🥰 Chris is always reaching out and touching Sebastian, and Sebastian seems very content and pleased to be touched 💞

And god yes that moment when Chris finally gets to sit next to Seb and he takes the opportunity to surreptitiously scoot as close to Seb as possible 😂 It's giving that bunny rabbit stretching to get some cuddles, too cute <333

[buckybarnesisdaddy]

🥲😪 I’m just really in my Bucky feels tonight

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) / Captain America: Civil War (2016)

Something in Civil War that I hadn’t really paid attention to until now (though this is probably long discussed in fandom already) is the way Bucky first reacts to hearing the codewords read by Zemo - his eyes close as he’s immediately, in his mind, brought back to The Chair, and, most heartbreakingly, his head tilts back in conditioned anticipation of receiving the torture that usually accompanies them. I want to say it’s a nice touch to highlight the horror of Bucky’s situation, but nice isn’t quite the word ;)

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[rileykeouhg]

GOSSIP GIRL (2007–2012) 3.01 Reversals of Fortune