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cryptidcasanova · 4 months ago

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King For A Day

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It was just a King Cake. How much power could it really hold?

Warnings: Mardi Gras shenanigans. It's sappy. I'm a sap.

2.3k words

I'm still not over TFATWS. I'm not over the soft moments, of the slow lapping of waves against the Louisiana coastline, of the tinkering on an old family-owned boat. I'm not over them.

Away from the crowds of Bourbon Street and the old French Quarter, the coastline was busy with chatter.

Sam Wilson was home for Mardi Gras. And this year, he wasn't alone.

The Wilsons were revered for their parties, and Mardi Gras was no exception. Growing up, Sarah and Sam watched their parents memorize the names of cousins and aunties of every neighbor in the bay. Genuine and kind, their neighbors were their family. Everyone was ready to celebrate Carnival. News traveled fast, and now all eyes were back on the Wilson household…much to the chagrin of their wet cat of a visitor.

Bucky Barnes slunk out of the house early that morning. Convinced he could distract himself, he made his way to the boat. He watched the sun burn the chill off the ocean and could smell the surf…and the lingering Old Bay seasoning drifting down from one of the cottages. He scrunched his nose.

He understood the importance of community and had lived it himself, but that was a lifetime ago. His community was in an old brownstone building with his parents and his sister, and then there was Steve. His community was built on the backs of the 107th infantry regiment.

This…this wasn't it. He wasn't about to pretend to feel a part of the community. He wasn't about to intrude on Sam's homecoming. So he worked on the boat, listening to the city wake up around him.

And hours later, that's where Sam found him.

Lost in his own memories, Bucky should have heard him long before he saw him. But Buck was cycling through memories of baseball games and museums, of the scraps of his old life. Sam watched and waited. Wise beyond his years, he leaned against the door, watching the captain's chair where Bucky was tinkering with the old electronics.

"Maybe we should shack you up in a lighthouse. Teach you some old sea shanties." He finally said.

Bucky didn't jump. He didn't look up from his work. But he did smirk, poorly humming a jig in jest. Sam's toothy grin is what made him finally look up.

"I take it back. No shanties."

Sam turned his head at the sound of laughter down the docks. Then, with a raised brow, brown eyes met blue.

"There's someone I want you to meet."

Sarah was going to be the death of you.

When you offered to help with the baking, this wasn't what you had in mind. Your little shop was a glorified café, and you thought it would be some small-time catering. You thought it was for a small Mardi Gras get-together. You should have known better. But you weren't prepared to lug around three-gallon carafes of chicory coffee down to the docks.

"Did you bake the cakes?" Sarah called out with a grin, as out of breath as you felt. You couldn't help the bubbling laugh, readjusting your grip on the jug.

"You'd never let me live it down if I didn't."

But your grip wasn't much better. The round container was awkward to hold, and the handles were uncomfortable. Fumbling down the wooden steps, you dared to push forward with Sarah before feeling cool metal against your wrist instead of the heat of the insulated carafe.

"Here, let me."

You pulled back slightly as the weight of the jug was lifted from your arms. With a huff of breath, you pulled back, but you refused to let go entirely. Maybe it should have been a two-person job from the start.

"Thanks," you started blindly, arms thankful for the reprieve. "But I'm happy to help. We're almost there."

Out of the corner of your eye, there was a crinkle in the man's expression - was that amusement?

"I told you we'd come up to the truck." A familiar voice chastised, and you turned to see Sam Wilson helping Sarah with the other jug. "You didn't have to drag these all the way down here."

But Sarah clicked her tongue, and you'd bet she was rolling her eyes.

"If you think we've got time to wait on you," Sarah started, a hand on her hip, "you've got another thing coming."

But Sam just chuckled. He turned with a smile and called your name.

"It's great to see you! This is Bucky." He introduced, nodding his head at the man beside you.

It was then that you remembered you were still holding onto the carafe. As you noticed and looked up, there was a twinge of a smile on the man's lips. Bucky.

"Hi," he said.

Oh. Oh no. You had been too busy trying not to drop the coffee to notice him, really notice him.

But he captured your attention all the same. With dark hair, a strong jaw, and those eyes...You were staring. Good god, you were staring.

"Hi." You replied carefully.

Still on the stairs, his eyes swept back to the path.

"Shall we?" He added quietly.

And with that, you bumbled down the steps and across the pier.

A number of coolers were stocked with chilled beers, and big pots of crab boils were bubbling away under an old wooden cabana. Sarah directed you to a dessert table, and you were pleasantly surprised to see the number of people starting to gather. You hated to admit it, but you missed it. You missed this. It had been years since you'd been to one of these parties.

"Come on," you urged with a laugh, taking Sarah's arm in yours. "We've got work to do."

You don't think anyone would blame you for sparing a glance at Sam's friend on your way back to the car.

Mardi Gras was in full swing.

Conversation and alcohol flowed freely. As the night drew on, the cabana was crowded with people. Crab boils were poured out on paper tablecloths, and everyone was shoulder to shoulder on the picnic benches.

There was laughter, buttery fingerprints on clothes, and music. A jazz quartet was starting in the corner, and as darkness hovered over the water, the kids were playing with sparklers.

The Wilsons were mingling, couples were dancing, and you were handing out beaded necklaces. Walking around with a gentle smile, your arm was covered in colorful necklaces. Yellows, greens, and purple beads glinted in the light. Plucking them off one at a time, with the delicacy of a knighting ceremony, you offered one to everyone at the table. You were slipping them over their heads, laughing and joking along.

And Bucky watched it all at a careful distance. He offered to start a fire in a barrel drum, and pulled up benches for people to warm up as the night grew cold.

You didn't recognize him earlier, hadn't regarded him with hesitation. Why did he fear that? The hunch on his shoulder told him everyone knew his darkness and unfortunate past. He feared all eyes would hand on him. But maybe he was wrong.

He watched you move around the party, and warmth from the fire covered his cheeks. That must have been it, right?

He shouldn't have been surprised as you sauntered over. Bucky wasn't secluded, but he wasn't necessarily in the throes of the partygoers. As you reached him and pulled a strand of green beads from your arm, you held them out gallantly.

"May I?"

Your voice was warm, if not a little reserved. He understood it. You didn't want to get in his space if he didn't want you there. He couldn't blame the fire for the sudden warm feeling in his chest. At a stand, Bucky didn't hesitate. He bowed down, low enough for you to reach up and put the beads over his head before patting them securely across his chest.

"Thanks," he found himself saying.

With a full smile, you paused before pulling back. And then, after another moment, you were pulled away by the kids running up to you for beads.

Bucky took a full breath and let his eyes wander. He needed air. And then, as he found Sam in the crowd, he was already staring back. Smirking back.

Bucky knew that look.

Sam witnessed the interaction, which was just what he needed, and with a gruff sound, Buck walked off in the opposite direction of where you had gone.

There was a line for the dessert table. People gathered for sweets and coffee before telling stories about the fire pits.

Bucky didn't drink coffee - he had enough to keep him up at night. But he got in line mechanically and took the cup you offered with a small smile. Before he could step away, you called out to him.

"Bucky," You started, testing the syllables on your tongue. He paused with a careful gaze. "Wait."

You held up a finger and turned—just a minute. When you turned around, you held out a plate to him with an iced piece of bundt cake.

"It's King Cake. The cinnamon in the cake goes well with the chicory coffee," you explained, looking at his cup.

The look on his face must have given him away. He didn't know about the tradition. You smiled as you held it out.

"And it's a superstition, a game. Everyone gets a slice, and there's a plastic baby hidden inside. It's said that the person who gets the baby will have good luck for the year. That they'll be king for a day."

Convinced by your explanation, Buck moved his coffee to his left hand, his right hand reaching for the plate. Fingers against fingers, you were beaming as he took it from your hands.

"That, or they'll have to buy a round of drinks for the party," you whispered out of earshot of the others in line.

He chuckled quietly at that. There was a wordless goodbye in his expression as he stepped down the line.

It wasn't intentional. It was Sarah, truly. She must have been the one to save a seat between her and Bucky as you finished serving plates and brought your own over to the fire.

She pulled her arms around you, tipsy and smiling as you sat down. It had been a long time since you had seen her so carefree. And Sam, on the other side of Bucky, looked just as at ease. He was preoccupied listening to an older couple talk about their latest fishing trip. Across the fire an old woman was beaming about her encounter with the fabled Rougarou.

Comfortable, you squeezed more people in to listen. Shoulder to shoulder, you looked up to Bucky. He was still wearing his beads, listening to the fishermen.

"We've waited long enough," Sarah started, pulling you away from your reverie. "Shall we?" She addressed the group, holding up her slice of cake.

"Let the good times roll!"

"Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

The crowd cheered, digging into the cake. False hope dimmed through the group, and even you, realizing you didn't have the baby, set down your cake in favor of the warm cup of coffee. It was more fun to watch, anyways.

Ever cautious, Bucky hadn't touched his cake. Not until Sam nudged him. He took a healthy forkful and, raising it to his lips, took a bite. You were right; the cinnamon cake paired well with the coffee. He remembered you talking with Sarah - you baked the cakes just for this party. Distracted by the taste, he didn't notice the baby until he returned for another forkful. He pulled at it quietly, but eyes moved quickly across the fire. Everyone must have seen it.

"Bucky!"

"You lucky dog."

The men heckled and joked, and Sam put a hand around his shoulder. And you, humbled and happy, watched him accept the praise. He wasn't used to it. It was endearing, and for some reason, it made your heart flutter.

The night crawled on with ease, and with liquor flowing, the stories were growing. Fables were told of old Louisiana, of pirates and adventures. As Sarah's boys started to fall asleep, Sam offered to help her take them home. More logs were added to the fire, and new stories were told. Stories of war and battles made way for stories of love and companionship.

Some people called it a night. More people took their place. And you were so fixated on the stories that you hardly realized you had been leaning into Bucky. Or perhaps he was leaning into you.

As the stories and the music tapered, you stayed.

"It's nice," you whispered at last. "That Sarah invited me. I didn't think I'd belong."

Bucky turned slightly, tilting his head.

"You did great - fit right in," he applauded. "I felt the same way when Sam invited me down. I hate when he's right." He grumbled with mirth.

You huffed out a laugh.

"I won't tell him."

You shared a comfortable silence, enjoying the fire and the hazy sounds of the pier. Shoulder to shoulder and almost hand to hand, neither of you had the heart to leave.

It wasn't baseball games and crowds and New York. It wasn't his home, and yet he felt surprisingly at home. And as soon as he felt brave enough to break the spell, he'd ask to walk you home. He'd ask for your cake recipe. He'd ask you to dinner.

Bucky didn't know about superstition, but in the late hours of night before dawn, sitting next to you on the old pier, he was king.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #tfatws #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mardi gras #carnival

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years ago

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SAM WILSON | CAPTAIN AMERICA/FALCON (the mcu | tfatws | captain america: the winter soldier)

—

“Arm Day” (Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader)

| You don’t show up for your running “date” with Sam so he shows up at your place to get a different kind of exercise in.

| SFW, exercising, romantic tension(?)

| Jesus, my summary is very nearly an innuendo. (Pic Source — Captain America: Civil War [peachy-ash icon], Captain America: The Winter Soldier [iconpsds icon], The Falcon & The Winter Soldier [marina-na-na icon])

| Inspo: Instagram

| 1k+ words

It’s the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand that wakes you up, and with a groan you lift your head to squint at it.

‘Sam Wilson’ flashes across your screen and you in no way can suppress the eye roll that elicits.

He was your gym buddy more often than not, but this was getting ridiculous.

When y’all ran laps together he’d slow down for you so you could keep one another company. When you were on the treadmill he’d be running in the one right beside you and hold out his arm if you stumbled so you wouldn’t go flying, emergency stopping the machine for you. You would spot each other, go out to eat afterwards, even make meal plans together. Sam was your number one.

He was also more of a pain in your ass than your actual personal trainers had ever been in the past.

You grope around for the phone, lifting it up to your ear once your clumsy fingers stumble across it.

“Yeah?”

Your grunt is met with an honest to god laugh. At this early in the morning?

“Oh my god,” you whine. “Sam, please, what do you want?”

A scoff this time.

“Y/N, it’s Saturday. Get your ass up, we got places to be.”

Still laying on your stomach you flip your head over to press the other side of your face into your pillow and switch your phone to the other ear accordingly, eyes slipping back closed.

“We? I told you I’m not leaving my house today.”

A beat of silence and then: “Okay…”

“Awesome. Have fun sweating by-”

“I’ll see you in five.”

You choke on your spit, words coming out in a whoosh and eyes snapping open.

“Fuck no! Sam!”

The sound of the dial tone reaches your ears and you curse, shooting out of bed, sleep no longer an option.

You drop your phone on your sheets and then scramble around for some shorts. If you could get to Sam before he got all the way to your apartment maybe you’d be able to shove his overactive ass back in his car.

In a frenzy you stuff your phone in your pocket and start towards the front door scratching at your head when it hits you. You’re scratching at your bare head.

“Shit- where in the world…?”

You whip around and start back towards your bedroom to look for where your head wrap had hidden itself during the night. You weren’t going all the way downstairs looking a mess.

Anywhere on your bed was a no show. It wasn’t hanging off your lamp like you’d found it once (who knows how it ended up there in the first place), and it wasn’t under your bed.

You're just about to throw caution to the wind and run out as you are regardless when two things happen at once. You find your wrap sunken into your shoes at the end of your bed and someone knocks at your door.

“Oh come the fuck on.” You grit your teeth, snatch up and firmly situate your traitorous wrap, then stomp over to jerk open the door.

“No.”

In front of you, dressed in a gray pair of sweats, Sam frowns lightly, thick brows raising.

“You made a promise,” he hedges.

You flip off said thick - accusatory - eyebrows.

“Screw my promise. I'm going to stay home and you’re going to leave. Goodbye.”

The door closes right in his face. He doesn’t take the chance not to let it, only to step back so he doesn’t break his nose. You appreciate that.

“Now hold on-! Aw come on, Y/n!” There’s muffled shuffling behind the door, him adjusting his gym bag more than likely, before he knocks again.

While you ignore him to start taking stuff out the freezer for a smoothie - you were already up, you might as well make it worth your while - he knocks three more times.

It’s when your phone starts buzzing on the countertop that you cave, stomping back over to the door and cracking it open just enough for him to see the glower on your face.

“What part of ‘Bye’ isn’t clicking? I’m tired, my muscles ache in places I didn’t even know were possible, and if I have to meal prep anymore I’m going to scream.”

He peeks through the sliver.

“Just one little circuit, alright? I brought everything with me so you won’t have to leave… .” His eyes have taken on a particular brightness that makes you just a little weak in the knees. “I’ll even cook for you after.”

Goddamnit. Your face smooths out from the glare you were rocking and Sam’s lights up.

“See? That sounds nice, now, doesn’t it?”

“Fine. A full meal, not no damn sandwich, and you make my smoothie before we start.”

“Deal. Thought you were gonna break my heart for a minute there, I'm really glad we pulled through though.”

“Yeah yeah,” you grumble and drag him and all his crap in.

_ _ _

“If you’re still aching after two days then we probably have to adjust your routine,” he curls upward and the muscles in his arms flex, stretching the sleeve of his maroon shirt to its limit. “I’ll take a pen and paper to it and we’ll figure it out, that fine by you Queen of Sheba?”

You scoff while going down on your push-ups.

“Yeah, it’s fine Sam,” you make sure to catch his eye as you straighten your arms to come up, “thanks.”

He smiles, switching to do curls with his left arm.

You go down, but end up watching unblinking for a few seconds as the muscles on his bicep become well defined peaks.

Hn.

Sam glances up and you rapidly realize that you’ve been laying on the ground and staring creepily at him for the better part of a minute.

Roughly, you clear your throat; Sam smirks and seems to go deliberately slow on his next curl. The way you gulp hurts a little.

“See something you like?”

Scowling, you roll your eyes and pick back up where you left off on your push-ups. You’re focusing intently on the tile underneath your palms when you answer him.

“No,” you snap to the floor.

Everything about Sam’s laugh says he doesn’t believe you worth a damn.

You don’t particularly care what he thinks though; something that you reiterate over and over in your head as you go on to the next workout.

Where the fuck Sam’s forward ass got off hiking a portable pull-up bar up to your apartment you did not know, but here the thing is, sitting nice and pretty like it belonged to be an absolute eyesore in the middle of your living room.

You sigh and decidedly don’t stare at him too hard as he eases down to the floor to take your previous place and start his own round of push-ups, and probably a few floor presses or something considering he brings the dumbbells down with him.

On your end starting your pull-ups starts off relatively easy. They’ve never been your favorite - and you’re certain they never will be - but at least you could do them now since you started training with Sam almost a year ago now.

Sam was neat like that. Uplifting without slipping into condescension, and being one of the few people who could push you so thoroughly out of your comfort zone.

Certainly the only person you allowed to upheave your more flexible boundaries with so little push back.

Breath huffing out of you you force yourself to rest before starting on your next set, eyes running over your workout partner’s back and the way the muscles there are also incredibly defined as he engages them.

It was a little unfair honestly. Who gave Sam Wilson the right to look so perfect? With a grunt you start working out again.

Eventually you begin waning, you can feel it in the way your arms instantly start to shake as you try to pull your body weight up for your next set, and the excess heat building in your fingers. How even as you attempt to swing your legs to get more momentum to do the pull-up you just barely manage to get one in before your arms give out, straightening back, and you’re left just hanging there.

“Goddamn,” you curse. Today really was just not your day.

Distantly you note the soft thud of weights being set down at your left but you're so focused that you don’t notice Sam move until he’s already in front of you.

He jumps up and you make a startled noise as you come face to face before he does a pull-up as easy as can be. Your lips purse.

He grins, “I got you, come on. One more rep.”

You sigh but he’s looking right into your eyes with that soft grin on his face - and you’re a sucker - so you cave in less than five seconds. Also, you don’t want to keep hanging any longer than necessary.

“I might not have one more in me, period, but I’ll try,” you murmur as you look away. You prep your muscles to move, assuming the right position, when Sam shaking his head in your peripheral catches your attention.

“Didn’t I just say I had you?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s swinging just that much closer on one arm - fucking show off - and grabbing enough of your thigh to nudge you forward so he can get his arm around your upper leg and then pull you in.

“You’re such a show off, you know that?”

You still follow his line of reasoning, though; pulling up enough that you can get both of your legs around his waist.

Sam just laughs, teeth glinting.

“I’m just happy to help.”

“Ha,” you mock, but when he pulls up you do so with him. Your arms bend, but not with nearly as much strain as before with him taking the majority of your weight, and the pressure on your core significantly lessens.

You won’t admit to having to bite back a smile at the feel of him tucked against you.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah,” you pant out, legs tightening absentmindedly around his waist. Sam grunts lowly in the back of his throat. “You in the habit of catching people like this?”

The look that briefly flashes across his face is far more severe than you think your question merits, and when Sam answers he makes sure to look you in the eye.

“I try to be.”

Then the moment’s broken, he’s pulling you both back up into your final exercise of the day and you’re left wondering where the hell Sam Wilson got off making you love him like this.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! If there’s any typos I’ll catch them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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cobrafantasies · 2 years ago

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I just had a dream where Marvel confirmed SamBucky was gay There was a second season of tfatws and in a scene two characters knock on a hotel door yelling, "come on, we already know you're back together!" (since they were fighting previously) Sam and Bucky open the door, turn, and walk in slow motion to a sudden rock song playing with insanely proud smirks on their faces.

I never have dreams like this, best dream ever! 😫

#sambucky #mysambuckythoughts #tfatws imagine

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buckbuckbarnesstuff · 1 year ago

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This is one of my favorites!! Loved how naturally you had them start conversation and befriend each other. The angst was amazing and I love how you wrote Buckys character. I feel like it’s so on point. I definitely will be reading this lovely story again, thank you for your art! ♡

VACANT MIRRORS ; MASTERPOST

PINTEREST | AO3 | SPOTIFY

shit’s been rough. shit was rough even before the blip. dr. hart shares an office with dr. raynor, and you share with waiting room with bucky barnes. set before tfatws; a friends-to-lovers, slowburn, eventual smut.

— CHAPTERS / completed!

1. I LANDED ON YOU LIKE A SUCKER PUNCH

2. BUT I’VE HAD WORSE NIGHTMARES

3. SO I’LL BE PLUGGED IN & TUNED OUT

4. WHILE YOU & I RIDE INTO THE SUN

5. PLATONICALLY SO, OF COURSE

6. GO AHEAD & PLUCK MY HEARTSTRINGS

7. TOGETHER WE’RE LOVERS ON THE LAM

8. SPIRALING TOWARDS THE STORM

9. KISSING IN THE AFTERMATH

10. TO THE TEMPO OF YOUR HEARTBEAT.

— DRABBLES & ONE-SHOTS

1. ALL BLACK

— OTHER

1. dolly’s jukebox, an audio imagine

2. the vacant mirrors tag

3. readers make their��rabbit!

4. fan art & memes

5. the glass cannon’s club set list

— birbs

#bucky barnes x reader #tfatws imagine

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ama3003 · 2 months ago

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Everything's Just Perfect

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: Yes

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

“So…” John groaned, slumping against a cracked brick wall. Blood trickled from a cut near his hairline, and ash streaked his jaw like war paint. He held up what was left of his shield — warped, twisted, folded . “What now? Because we just got annihilated.”

“No shit,” Ava muttered, spitting dust from her mouth and flicking a burned scrap of fabric from her sleeve. Her split lip had swollen, and she could feel bruises blooming across her ribs. “I say every man for themselves. Bob’s gone full horror movie. This was fun — goodbye.”

She turned into the lingering smoke, already half-vanished — until Yelena’s voice cut through like a knife.

“We can’t leave him.”

Ava stopped, shoulders stiff. “Leave who? That wasn’t Bob back there. That was... I don’t even know what that was.” She turned, folding her arms. “Definitely not the guy who saved us.”

“No,” Yelena said, voice tight. “But he’s still in there. Somewhere.”

“Unless one of you has a secret anti-god laser in your back pocket,” Ava snapped, “what exactly is your plan?”

“I don’t have one yet,” Yelena admitted, stepping forward anyway. “But we’re not leaving him. Not like this.”

Alexei groaned and collapsed dramatically onto a half-shattered bench, which cracked under his weight. “If we go back in there, I need... at least ten minutes. And a cortisone shot. Maybe a priest.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Let me stretch, drink some water, and then we finish him.”

“We’re not finishing him,” Yelena snapped, rounding on him. “We’re going to help him.”

“Oh sure,” Ava muttered. “We’ll just hug the powers out of him.”

“He ripped Bucky’s arm off like it was a doll’s toy,” Alexei added. “We go in like this, we die.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky muttered as he calmly snapped the vibranium prosthetic back into place with a click. “Happens more than you think.”

John held up his bent shield, his face still a mix of shock and mild heartbreak. “He folded it. I mean—folded it. Like paper. Do you know what kind of force it takes to bend this thing?”

Ava raised a brow. “So… not vibranium?”

“It’s vibranium-adjacent,” John muttered defensively.

Yelena didn’t even look at him. “Maybe if it was actual vibranium, it wouldn’t look like a gas station burrito.”

Alexei lit up. “I could go for a burrito. Or a taco. The ones with the cheese in the middle. Mmm. I want that now.”

John groaned. “Focus! We got curb-stomped by Bob! Bob! The shy nerdy one!"

“Yeah,” Ava said quietly, brushing ash from her arm. “He’s not shy or nerdy anymore.”

That shut them all up.

Bucky exhaled. They were beat to hell, and morale was tanking fast. But more than that, they were scared. And for good reason.

He looked at them — bruised, dirty, half-limping, yet still bickering like middle schoolers on a broken field trip — and made a decision he was definitely going to regret.

“There’s a place we can crash. It’s not far. We lay low, regroup. Heal. Then we figure out what the hell to do.”

Yelena eyed him suspiciously. “Where?”

He didn’t answer. Just turned and started walking.

The group hesitated, then followed — slow and shuffling.

A few blocks in, Ava broke the silence again, jabbing a thumb at John’s mangled shield. “So… can’t you, like, unfold it? You’ve got super strength, right?”

“I have super strength,” John snapped. “Not unfold-a-shield-bent-by-a-living-deity strength. It’s toast.��

Alexei squinted. “Is that, like… covered under warranty? Or do you have to mail it back?”

John gave him a deadpan look. “Do I look like I kept a receipt?”

“And you—” he pointed at Ava “—Ghost. Can you even do anything right now or are you just brooding professionally?”

Ava raised her brow. “I walked through a wall and saved your sorry ass five hours ago.”

“She literally did,” Yelena added, smirking.

“I-oh. Right. I forgot,” John said, flustered. “In my defense, I was the one who cut the power so she could walk through the wall.”

“How convenient,” Ava said flatly.

Their argument began escalating again — nonsense mixed with sarcasm, interrupted only by Alexei trying to convince someone to buy him tacos — until Bucky turned sharply on his heel.

“Enough.” His voice was low, tired, and just sharp enough to cut through the noise. “We’re almost there. If you keep yelling, she’s not going to open the door.”

They all stopped short.

“She?” they echoed, suspicious in unison.

“Yes. She. No more questions.” He resumed walking, jaw clenched.

Yelena sidled up next to him, grinning like a cat. “Is this a she-she, or a capital-She situation?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Alexei leaned toward John with a conspiratorial whisper. “Is she a friend-friend or a friendly friend?”

John nodded sagely. “I bet she’s way out of his league.”

“Maybe she's his girlfriend,” Yelena offered with a shrug.

“Highly doubtful,” Ava muttered.

“She’s not my—” Bucky stopped mid-sentence, face twitching. “Just... shut up. All of you. Or I will let Bob use you as a jump rope.”

They finally quieted.

The townhouse appeared as they turned the corner. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and an old record shop. String lights framed the little balcony, and a warm golden glow spilled from the upstairs window. Too calm. Too normal. It looked like the kind of place where people had tea and talked about their feelings — not where half-dead super-soldiers crawled in to sleep off a cosmic ass-kicking.

Bucky stopped in front of the door, hesitating. His jaw tightened as he raised his fist, his metal fist hovering before he knocked.

He hated this.

He hated that he’d brought them here — hated the pit growing in his stomach — hated that this was the only safe place he could think of. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Not since they separated. And now he was dragging a human dumpster fire of a team to her doorstep.

Behind him, the others bickered in hushed tones.

“Does she cook?” “I hope she has a comfy couch.” “If she has tea, I’ll marry her.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second.

He almost turned around — almost told them it was a bad idea and they should just sleep in a sewer.

But then he heard footsteps approaching the door.

Too late.

The door creaked open slowly, and there you were.

Your eyes landed on Bucky first — bruised, dirt-streaked, arm slightly disjointed, and he was holding his ribs with one hand.

“Bucky,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your gaze swept across him, and the flicker of worry that crossed your face was brief, but real.

Then it was gone.

“What do you want?” you asked. Not cold exactly, but not welcoming either. Just guarded.

Bucky looked down for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Worn. “I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now. But we need your help.”

“I don’t play superhero anymore,” you replied, arms folding as you leaned slightly against the doorframe.

“I know,” he said quickly, “I’m not asking you to suit up or anything. We just need a place to lay low. For a night. Maybe two. We got our asses handed to us like ten minutes ago.” He gestured to the group behind him, and your eyes drifted over the chaos on your porch.

“Please, doll,” he added, quieter now. “I wouldn’t have come if I had any other option.”

The silence stretched between you. He held your gaze, waiting — wounded pride barely masked beneath the plea.

Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders softening. Without a word, you stepped aside and opened the door wider.

“Come in before the neighbors start watching.”

The team shuffled in, dragging in a trail of soot, broken egos, and exhaustion. Bucky paused as he stepped through, eyes flicking to the living room. It looked exactly like he remembered — warm, soft lighting, a shelf cluttered with books and candles. Homey. Safe.

Except the framed photos of you two were gone. Replaced by art. Abstract pieces. Beautiful, distant things.

Then something soft brushed against his leg.

He glanced down and froze.

A pristine white cat was weaving through his boots, its tail flicking with recognition. His expression shifted—stunned, tender.

“Hey, Alpine,” he murmured, crouching carefully. “Hi, pretty girl. I missed you.”

She meowed softly and launched into his arms, immediately purring as she burrowed into his chest. He cradled her like porcelain, one hand smoothing over her fur.

You watched from the kitchen threshold. You and Bucky had agreed Alpine would stay with you — your life was stable, his wasn’t. It had made sense. But it hadn’t been easy.

Behind Bucky, the team just… stared.

“Are you seeing this?” John whispered to Yelena.

Ava elbowed him without even looking. “Shut up.”

It was a surreal image: The Winter Soldier, dusty and battle-worn, cuddling a white fluffball like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You took in the rest of them. They were strangers, mostly. Strangers who looked like they'd crawled out of a battlefield and onto your rug.

The blonde woman leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her standing. The woman in the sleek suit by the door looked cool and dangerous in equal measure. Then there was the massive man in red. He smiled and gave a little wave when your eyes met. And then there was the guy with the folded shield and the “punch-me” face.

Bucky nodded toward the group. “Uh, yeah. That’s Yelena, Ava, Alexei, and... that’s John.”

They all gave awkward waves. Alexei’s was the most enthusiastic.

You nodded politely. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

They all looked like they were one nudge away from collapsing.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” you offered.

“Water, please,” Yelena said quickly, her voice scratchy.

John raised his hand like a kid in class. “Same.”

Ava glanced at you, almost apologetic. “Do you have tea?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Anything.”

You turned to Alexei.

“Do you have anything… stronger?” he asked, hopeful.

“How strong?”

“Very strong.”

You smirked. “Got it.” Then disappeared into the kitchen.

The moment you were out of sight, all heads turned to Bucky — still petting Alpine, who had zero plans to move.

“So…” Yelena drawled. “You and her?”

Bucky tensed like someone lit a fuse in his spine.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

John leaned closer to Ava. “There’s definitely history here. Did you see the way she looked at him?”

“She also looked like she wanted to slam the door,” Ava replied.

“She likes him,” Alexei declared confidently. “There is affection. And the cat approved. Cats never lie.”

Bucky glared at all of them. “If you value your limbs, you’ll stop talking.”

Yelena held up both hands, grinning. “Okay, okay. No shipping the grumpy soldier. Got it.”

A few moments later, you returned balancing a tray with glasses, a mug of tea, and a tumbler of something amber.

“Bucky, seriously?” you said, seeing them all still hovering like awkward ghosts. “You could’ve told them to sit down.”

He shrugged, still holding the cat like a teddy bear. “Didn’t want to break anything.”

You waved the team toward the couches. “Please. Make yourselves at home.”

John and Yelena nearly collapsed into opposite ends of the same couch. Ava leaned against a windowsill, blowing gently on her tea. Alexei sniffed his drink, took a sip, then sat upright.

“You, my dear, are an angel,” he declared reverently. “Is this whiskey?”

“Only the best for unexpected guests,” you replied dryly. “I was meal-prepping earlier,” you added, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ve got a big pot of soup if anyone’s hungry. Showers are down the hall. Towels are in the closet. Clean shirts in the basket.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Soup would be heavenly,” John mumbled, eyes already closing.

You gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen again.

Bucky hesitated, gently placing Alpine down as she curled onto a throw pillow. Then he followed you, slow and quiet.

You were setting down a basket of warm dinner rolls on the table when you felt the shift in the room. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Still, you glanced over your shoulder. Bucky stood quietly near the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim kitchen light, his hands shoved in his pockets, posture stiff like he hadn’t quite decided if he should be there.

“Do you need anything?” you asked, keeping your voice steady. The soup was already simmering; your hands moved automatically to the ladle.

He offered a faint smile — the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

You nodded, focusing on the steam rising from the pot instead of the way your chest clenched. “You all looked like hell. Someone had to be decent.”

“Look, Y/N—”

“Bucky, don’t,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You turned to face him fully, hands still holding the ladle. “You don’t have to say anything. I know why you're here. Nearest safe house. Not personal. It’s fine. Really.”

He hesitated, jaw tightening before giving a slow nod. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Just need some rest.”

“That's fine.” You turned back to fill the bowls. “Alpine misses you.”

His voice was softer this time. “I miss her too.”

You didn't answer right away. But when the bowls were full and the bread was out, you called out toward the hallway.

“Lunch.”

A few thuds and grunts later, the rest of the group shuffled in like survivors of a disaster movie. Everyone looked slightly cleaner than when they arrived — but still bruised, bandaged, and about ten seconds from passing out.

Everyone except Bucky, who instinctively sat down in the seat next to yours.

Yelena took a spot across the table, her hands wrapped around her water. Ava perched at the end, still sipping her tea slowly. Alexei helped himself to three rolls before anyone else had time to blink.

John hovered awkwardly before finally taking a seat beside Alexei, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Yelena again after their last round of bickering.

“And then—oh! Oh! Bob folded his shield like a freakin’ taco,” Alexei said mid-chew, nearly choking from laughter. “Just snapped it like paper!”

Yelena chuckled. Even Ava cracked a smirk.

John looked personally offended. “It’s not that funny.”

“And then—wait for it—he ripped off Bucky’s arm.” Alexei nearly doubled over at the memory.

Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth. You turned your head so fast toward Bucky, it made your hair sway.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Alexei, but when he caught your expression — real concern flickering beneath practiced calm — his demeanor softened.

“It’s fine,” he said gently, lifting the vibranium arm a little. “Reattached it without a problem.”

“Are you sure?” You were already reaching out, ignoring the way your hand trembled just slightly. You turned his arm gently, inspecting the seam where metal met flesh, eyes scanning for dents or stress damage. “Did you check everything out?”

“I’m okay,” he said, holding your gaze. You gave him a look that said you weren’t convinced. So he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He squeezed your hand. “I promise. I’m okay.”

His eyes looked at your hand, and something flickered behind them — something like a punch to the gut. It was bare. There was no ring on her finger.

Automatically, he reached up to his chest, fingers ghosting over where the chain should’ve been.

It wasn’t there.

His stomach dropped.

Bucky’s fingers frantically searched under his collar, pulling at his shirt, then dipping into his jacket pocket. Nothing.

No. No no no.

He never took it off. Ever.

His pulse spiked as he started checking every pocket.

“Bucky?” you asked, watching him unravel. “What’s wrong?”

“The chain,” he said hoarsely. “My chain. It’s gone.”

Panic etched across his face.

At the end of the table, Yelena blinked, frowning as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket. She felt the cool weight of something metallic there — something she had shoved away mid-battle and forgotten about.

When she pulled it out, her heart skipped.

It was a chain.

And dangling from it — a simple gold wedding band.

“Holy f—” she whispered, catching herself before the full curse slipped. “Holy shit.”

Everyone turned to look.

Bucky’s head snapped up.

She held the chain in her open palm like it was glowing. “This is yours.”

He surged forward before she could say another word and plucked it from her hand like it was oxygen. His breath shuddered as he slipped it back over his neck, the ring resting once again near his heart.

Relief washed over his features — raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes locked with his.

“You still have it,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand brushed your ring finger again, almost absentmindedly.

“I—I…” Bucky swallowed hard, words failing. His throat felt too tight.

Alexei broke the silence like a sledgehammer. “Wait—you’re married?! Congratulations!” he bellowed, raising his glass. “That’s adorable.”

Bucky flinched like he'd been shot.

The silence that followed was very loud.

He looked at you again — the weight of everything unspoken between you crashing back in all at once — then abruptly stood.

He didn’t say anything.

He just left the room, Alpine trailing after him as the others watched, stunned.

“Did I…” Alexei frowned. “Did I say something wrong? Is that not a wedding ring?”

Yelena sighed, rubbing her temple. “We’re gonna need way more soup.”

“Uh… we’re not married anymore,” you whispered, and the air in the room seemed to shift.

Everyone went quiet. You could feel the weight of their stares settle on you like a spotlight, but you didn’t look back. You just stood, heart pounding, and walked out of the room — your feet already knowing where to go.

Of course you knew where he was.

You and Bucky had lived in this house together for two years before everything fell apart. The bones of the place hadn’t changed — not the layout, not the memories buried in each room. And especially not the basement.

You made your way downstairs, the air cooler, quieter. The moment your foot hit the last step, he spoke.

“You kept everything the same,” Bucky said, his voice low but clear. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was you.

You crossed the room and slowly sat next to him on the old couch, the one you both used to fall asleep on watching bad movies. The cushions were still slightly sunken on his side.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice gentle. “It was our home. It felt wrong moving your things…changing your designs.”

Silence filled the space between you. Not heavy — just full. The muffled sound of the team arguing upstairs drifted down: something about dishes, someone calling someone a jackass.

“They’re a good bunch,” you murmured. “Very entertaining, too.”

Bucky let out a quiet, tired laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

Your eyes drifted to the chain around his neck — barely visible, but there.

“You kept the ring,” you said softly, watching him tense just slightly.

He nodded slowly, the admission coming with a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

He finally turned to face you, eyes tired but sincere. “It helps me. Grounds me. I didn’t have much left to fight for after Steve left. But then there was you. And that ring… it gave me comfort. Protection, in a weird way. It became my good luck charm. I couldn’t get rid of it after the divorce. I didn’t want to.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you gave him a small, sad smile. “So you’ve been wearing it around your neck this whole time?”

He nodded again, this time more slowly. “Every damn day,” he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t take it off. It’s stupid, I know. Makes me look like a fool.”

You shook your head and stood up, walking to the cabinet on the far wall. He watched you with guarded curiosity as you pulled out a small, velvet box and returned to the couch.

“You’re not a fool,” you said gently. You opened the box and held it out to him. “I couldn’t get rid of mine either. Every time I tried, it felt wrong, like throwing away something sacred."

His gaze dropped to the ring in your fingers, and his throat tightened. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours again.

“I really wanted our marriage to work,” he said, the words coming out like a confession.

“I know you did.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“I know you are.” You reached for his hand and held it. It still felt the same — steady, calloused, familiar. “You needed to find yourself, Buck. I should’ve understood. Everything was changing so fast. Steve died. Sam had the shield. Walker was Captain America for a minute. And then… you got into politics. You’re actually a congressman now.”

He let out a breath that was half-scoff, half-laugh.

“I couldn’t keep up,” you continued. “And that was on me.”

“No. It was on me,” he said firmly. “I didn’t prioritize your feelings. I kept shutting you out — thinking I was protecting you. You were right to divorce me. I wasn’t a good husband.”

You looked at him — really looked at him — and shook your head.

“Bucky, no. You were an amazing husband. You just had things to work through. And I pushed myself aside instead of speaking up.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace felt effortless. Like no time had passed.

His arms went around you instantly, like they never forgot how.

“I’m also sorry,” you whispered.

Bucky’s laugh was soft and bitter. “What the hell happened to us?”

“I don’t really know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “But I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” He pressed his face into your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to survive. Alpine purred softly at your feet, curling between your legs.

And for a while, it was enough.

Peaceful. Quiet. Just the two of you and the cat you shared, back in a place that still remembered love.

And then—

CRASH.

You both jumped slightly at the loud clatter upstairs.

“Did you seriously just break their bowl?” John’s voice rang out, horrified.

“Well, if you think you can do better, then help me wash the dishes, Walker!” Ava snapped back.

You giggled, forehead still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. “We should go before they break more of our dishes.”

He smiled — a real one, one that reached his eyes. It lit up something in him when you said our. He tightened his hold. “A few more minutes. They’ll survive.”

You didn’t argue.

And without meaning to, both of you drifted off, curled into each other like no time had passed at all.

********

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up, Alexei. You’re being too loud.”

“We should wake him up, though. We haven’t even talked strategy.”

“We can’t. Look at them.”

“They look like a cute, happy family.”

“We should take a picture.”

The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room, with the flash blinding all of them.

Bucky blinked awake, eyes adjusting slowly. There was warmth on his lap — Alpine, purring softly. And in his arms, still tucked close, was you.

For a second, he didn’t move.

This was what peace felt like. This was home.

“You woke him up,” Yelena hissed. “Seriously, Dad, turn off the flash and the sound!”

Bucky looked at them — bleary-eyed and still half-asleep — and his expression dropped into something flat and dangerous.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to leave,” he said calmly, voice low and sharp as a blade. “And if you don’t… Bob will be the least of your problems.”

The team scrambled out of the room like they’d seen a ghost.

He sighed, then looked back down at you — just as you stirred.

You blinked yourself awake slowly, eyes meeting his. He braced himself, just for a second, wondering if you’d pull away. Regret it. Pretend none of it happened.

But you didn’t.

You just smiled sleepily, and snuggled closer.

“Is everything okay?” you murmured, reaching over to pat Alpine, who purred louder.

“Everything’s just perfect,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for once, maybe for the first time in forever, Bucky believed that was true.

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ilovolderman · 2 months ago

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The Match

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: While secretly dating You, Bucky gets roped into a dating app by Sam

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, light jealousy

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What" (this is already part 5, so yes, im calling it a series.) It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the soft morning light pouring in through the big windows. You were curled up on the counter in one of Bucky’s henleys — technically yours now, since you’d claimed it after “accidentally” falling asleep in it two months ago. He hadn’t asked for it back.

Bucky stood between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs as he stole tiny sips from your coffee cup every time you lowered it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him as he swiped it again.

He smirked, brushing a thumb over your knee. “Can’t help it. Yours always tastes better.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward anyway, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He caught you halfway and turned it into a real kiss — slow, unhurried, the kind that made time feel irrelevant.

You sighed against his lips. “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re never gonna eat.”

“We can skip breakfast,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

“And deal with Sam’s ‘someone didn’t have their Wheaties’ speech again? No thanks.”

Bucky groaned and stepped back, reluctantly, while you hopped off the counter. You started prepping your coffee again, and he leaned close to watch.

“One scoop…” he counted aloud.

You snuck a glance at him and grinned. “Three.”

“Three?” he fake-gasped. “You planning to vibrate through walls?”

“Says the guy who had four yesterday.”

“Three and a half,” he corrected, deadpan.

You snorted. “Uh-huh. Keep lying to yourself, grandpa.”

He gave you a playful glare but said nothing, instead leaning over to steal one of your toast slices like a thief in the night.

And then — of course — the kitchen door swung open.

“Okay, what the hell is this domestic energy?” Sam’s voice boomed as he walked in. “Am I interrupting a rom-com or—?”

You and Bucky practically jumped apart like teenagers caught red-handed. You reached for the peanut butter like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Morning,” you both said, far too casually, far too in sync.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Weird. Anyway…”

He turned to Bucky, eyes narrowing as he opened the fridge. “You look grumpier than usual.”

“I always look like this.”

“That’s what worries me,” Sam said, pulling out the orange juice. “You need a little somethin’ in your life. A spark. Some romance.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Wow, subtle.”

Sam shot you a grin. “I’m serious, Bucky. You look miserable and I’m sick of it. Your need to get out there. Meet people. Real people. People who don’t, y’know, punch aliens for a living.”

“I’m not miserable,” Bucky muttered, taking a very aggressive bite of toast.

Sam ignored him. “You need someone to, like, hold your hand and remind you that the world isn’t complete garbage.”

“Y/N does that,” Bucky said before realizing. His eyes flicked to you. Yours widened slightly.

“Uh— I mean…” he coughed. “You could. You’re good at pep talks.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

But Sam was too busy with his phone to notice the weird energy. “Anyway, I’m gonna download Spark for you.”

“Oh no,” you whispered.

“Oh yes.” Sam grinned, typing furiously. “It’s like Tinder but for people who still believe in feelings.”

“Delete it,” Bucky said immediately.

“Too late. Already making your profile. Okay — full name?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam looked up. “Fine, we’ll just put ‘Bucky B.’ You sound like a retired DJ. Age... one-oh-six... but we’ll round down to thirty-five. Close enough.”

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop from laughing. Bucky looked like he was actually malfunctioning.

“Give me your phone. I'm deleting it.”

“Nope.” Sam sidestepped him and kept typing. “Bio time. What do you want it to say? ‘Strong, silent, may or may not have trauma, will kill spiders for you’?”

“Sam.”

“Oh! And profile picture.” Sam’s grin went feral. “I’m gonna use the one from Clint’s barbecue.”

Bucky froze. “No. Not the one where—”

“Yup,” Sam said, turning the phone around dramatically. “The one where you’re smiling. A real smile. The people gotta see the goods, man.”

You wheezed. “That’s actually a really good picture.”

“It is,” Sam agreed, tapping to save the profile. “Now we wait. Trust me, you're gonna get matches faster than Tony blows money.”

Bucky looked physically pained.

And then… the phone buzzed.

“Oh snap — you already got a match! Girl named Olivia.” Sam said, scrolling like a man on a mission. “Look at this—she hikes, she volunteers at animal shelters. Honestly, Buck, she’s like a Hallmark movie in human form. You should totally message her.”

You blinked.

Something inside you twisted — that unwelcome, unmistakable burn of jealousy curling in your chest.

Bucky looked… surprised. And then cautious. “That was fast.”

“She’s cute,” Sam said, scrolling. “She said you have nice eyes. You should message her. Or better yet, go on a date. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You forced a laugh. “Yeah, Buck. You should totally go.”

Bucky turned toward you slowly. His smile had faded into something softer. Thoughtful. He tilted his head, studying your face like it was a puzzle he was halfway through solving.

“…Maybe,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word.

You smiled a little too tightly. “Good for you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, like he could see right through you.

You lasted approximately six hours before cracking. Not that you were counting.

You’d spent the day trying not to think about Olivia. Or her "kind eyes". Or the fact that Bucky had apparently matched with her in under a minute. Not that it mattered, obviously. You were cool. Chill. Entirely unaffected.

…Until Bucky found you in the hallway on your way back to your room, grabbed your hand, and wordlessly tugged you into his.

He shut the door behind you, arms crossed. He didn't look mad. Just… knowing.

You tried to play it cool. “If this is about the last cookie, I swear I thought it was mine.”

“It’s not about the cookie.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. “Then what?”

Bucky’s eyes didn’t waver. “You told me to go. Like it didn’t bother you.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to brush it off. “I was just being cool. Y’know, chill. Unbothered.”

“You were seething, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened. “Okay, maybe a little. So what?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just watched you for a second, his silence pressing gently around your walls. Not demanding, not accusing — just waiting for you to be honest.

You exhaled and leaned back against the door. “I know I said it didn’t bother me, but the second Sam said you matched with someone, it was like—like my stomach dropped out.”

His brow furrowed, stepping closer.

You continued, voice softer. “I know you love me. I do. But the idea of someone else getting even a piece of you… I hated it. And that scared me. I didn’t want to be the clingy one or the insecure one or the girl who flips out over some dumb dating app.”

Bucky’s face softened completely. “Hey.”

He closed the gap and cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You are not insecure. You’re not clingy. You’re human. And you love me.” He kissed your forehead gently. “I want you to care.”

Your chest cracked wide open, and you let yourself lean into him.

“I don’t want to share you, Buck,” you whispered. “Not even a little.”

“You never have to,” he murmured. “You’ve got all of me. Always.”

“…So what about Olivia?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He shrugged. “I unmatched her hours ago. Right after you said good for you like you were trying not to cry.”

You gaped. “You what?”

Bucky smirked. “The only person I want… is you.”

Your heart stuttered, full and aching and impossibly light all at once. “Bucky—”

“You’ve had me from the moment you stole my henley and never gave it back.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You don’t have to be chill. You don’t have to play it cool. You already have all of me.”

Your laugh was shaky, but your smile was real. “Even if I get all weird over fictional matches on dating apps?”

He grinned. “Especially then.”

You leaned into him, your fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “So you’re not going on a date with Olivia?”

“Nope,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his. “Unless you change your name and start volunteering at animal shelters.”

You snorted. “I would for you.”

Bucky kissed you then — sweet, slow, soft. The kind of kiss that made you forget all the awkward moments of the morning. The kind that made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

You laughed into the kiss, your fingers curling around his shirt. “You absolute...”

“—Boyfriend material?” Bucky finished, hopeful.

You smiled, lighter than you had all day. “Absolutely.”

Somewhere down the hall, Sam shouted, “I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DELETED SPARK—!”

You broke apart, laughing breathlessly. “We should probably tell him.”

Bucky sighed into your neck. “Or we fake our deaths and disappear into the Alps.”

“Tempting.”

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd

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originaldouble · 1 month ago

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-" does he always just stares like that?"

" you get used to it"

#imagine looking at a man like THAT and ppl still call you straight #the look of love yall #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel #tfatws #the winter soldier #captain america

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melles1276 · 2 years ago

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This is so adorable 😊

Bucky Barnes + smiling ✨ | for @buckysbarnes

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #buckybarnesedit #Bucky is smiling #tfatws imagine #tfatws #tfat

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wbellab · 2 months ago

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Busy Woman | J. Bucky Barnes

summary: You’ve always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes. Shamelessly flirted just to see that annoyed look that made him look so good. He never gave you more than those quiet stares, jaw tight like he was holding something back. Fine by you. You had better things to do than wait around for a man stuck in the 40s. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

cw: angst (i love writing that lol), red room widow reader, post endgame, mentally unstable reader, grumpy bucky, flirting, cocky reader, reader has no filter, sexual jokes, implied canon deaths, implied canon violence, several times, no use of y/n

3k words

inspo: busy woman by sabrina carpenter

It started of with occasional flirting. You’ve been told that James, Bucky as people called him, Barnes was an ex assassin, a super soldier with a body count larger than you would’ve suspected, a guy that had the power to literally crush you if you annoyed him too much. But you didn’t care.

You’ve always been too bold and shameless for your own being. Life is too short to worry about details as insignificant as his body count (his death toll—you didn’t care about his past experience with women, or men ?—the more the better…).

This being said, you did not ignore who he was. You obviously acknowledged what he had done before. But hey, you could still appreciate beauty for what it was. Because James Buchanan Barnes was truly a sight for sore eyes. You didn’t know where all this playful flirting started getting more real.

"You look good in black." You mentioned one day gesturing to his gear. You both were paired in a small check up mission, much to your delight and Bucky’s annoyance.

"I always wear black clothes." He huffed.

"Yeah, my point." You smiled.

Men look hot in black, that’s a universal law, so you didn’t think much when you gave that comment. You’ve always been like that, subtly flirting with anyone, giving genuine compliments, sometimes out of the blue. It came naturally, especially with Bucky. What you truly did not expect was seeing his face flushing. It was subtle, but your eyes noticed. And that’s how your one sided flirting with him truly began.

"Something’s off." Bucky muttered, looking at the tracking device in his hands.

"Probably my clothes." It took him a moment to grasp it. But when he did his eyes just widened, and he sighed, used to it already. "You have no sense of humour whatsoever it is alarming." You continued after observing his reaction.

"No because that is straight off the worst pick up line you could come up with. Is this what you call flirting ?"

"You’re so confident that Im flirting with you. That is also alarming."

You were in fact flirting with him, though subtly. But you still kept the upper hand, folding your arms across your chest in a way that was almost childish.

He matched your gesture, folding his arms against his chest, a playful smirk on his face. "Well I hope you’re not because rejecting you now would probably mess with our assignment discharge." It was subtle too. But it was his way of rejecting you, kind of. You didn’t flinch. You wouldn’t take it seriously until he said the words straight to your face.

"Oh…" you pouted, mock-hurt. "I didn’t want your old cranky ass anyway." The lie rolled off your tongue effortlessly. It wasn’t awkward—your smile stayed sharp, teasing, and his matched it. He probably thought you were joking. Maybe you were. "But hey although i’m busy, clothes are always optional if you ever need a favor."

He groaned. Yep, you absolutely loved teasing him.

Something resonated through him one day. It was right after Thanos erased half of the world population. To him the blip felt like just a second but to you, you aged five years. You were apart of the Time Heist mission. You saw your sister sacrifice herself, to save you and the world. And you felt awfully guilty.

Things had drastically changed, when people reappeared. Bucky found himself in a world that was once again moving on while he was freezing with time. But still he got pardoned for his former actions, he started seeing a therapist and right when he thought he would be able to get his life together, Steve left. But you, you were the same old person. Talking to him as if nothing changed, as if you didn’t age five years older while he still looked the same.

You were in his apartment on a random evening—the very same night he returned from a "date" with the girl from the sushi place. Not that he knew you’d stalked him.

When Bucky noticed his door was unlocked, a sinking feeling settled in his chest. He was sure he’d locked it. The key turned too easily. Then he saw you. A sigh left his lips, probably exasperation or relief. Maybe a bit of both. Still he didn’t have the energy to make you leave at that moment.

Great mistake.

"I mean a win is a win, it shrunk our age gap with five years." You shrugged to him when the subject of the blip came into the conversation. It was more you talking and him huffing and listening. Barely listening. "You know I missed you. It was kind of boring without you."

"I bet it was." He huffed. "Look why don’t you just–" he gestured to your figure laying on his couch a bag of crisps, that you stole from his pantry, in your hands. "Stop putting crumbs all around the apartment and just get out now."

"Woah, I see you’re still rude." You mumbled. "I just missed you during those five years you know ? And since all of my friends are either gone or dead I just feel… super, super lonely." You sighed, dramatically. Although it sounded like a joke, you meant everything you said.

Your life truly fell apart when half of the population disappeared, it was already crumbling before but now, it was much more worse. Things were different. If it wasn’t for Nat being with you before, you would’ve probably not made it past your twenties. But now that she died, sacrificing herself, you just felt like you were dying all over again.

"Don’t you feel lonely ?" You asked cutting the silence. He turned to you, a bit surprised by what you asked him. You were staring straight ahead without blinking and that’s when he noticed the flask in your hand.

"You’ve got to be kidding me…" He muttered under his breath, taking the flask away from you. "Have you seriously brought alcohol here ?"

"I told you I felt lonely." You tried to defend yourself, as if it was enough to justify your need to drink alcohol. "But you did not answer me."

He sighed slumping in the couch next to you. He stared at the bottle that he stole from you just seconds ago, and he brought it to his mouth before wincing.

"This thing is disgusting."

"Its just some cheap vodka. I don’t have money." You answered sadly, your eyes not leaving the point you were fixing on the ceiling. You were absolutely wasted, after just one sip. To be fair it was your first time drinking, your system was definitely not used to it, even with all the serum injected in your veins.

"Once you’re sober, you’re getting out of here."

"Why do you badly want me to go mmh ?" You asked turning your head towards him, a frown on your face. You were not about to cry. Yes definitely not in front of him. "I would’ve rather gone to Sam." You say bluntly, the alcohol loosening your thoughts. "But he’s visiting his family and I thought you would maybe appreciate some company."

"Well I clearly don’t so you have your answer now." He said more firmly. "I don’t want your company."

"You don’t want me ?" You pouted, although your face showed a hint of amusement. Your fingers lightly grazed his flesh arm, and Bucky flinched at the contact—until he noticed your gaze shift toward the flask in his left hand. With a reluctant sigh, he offered it to you. But you did not take it. Instead you reached for his metal wrist,guiding him until the rim of the flask touched your lips, forcing him to pour the drink in your mouth. He was too stunned to resist, his eyes widening as he let you. "What ?" You hiccuped, probably from the drinking. "It’s technically you making me drunk now so it gives me a reason to stay longer." You giggled. You genuinely though at that moment that it was the smartest thing you’ve ever done. And that’s something to say because you were an ex spy.

"Fine." He said standing up and pouring the rest of the alcohol in the sink. You quickly got up, trying to follow him. Your walk was wobbly.

"Do you even know how much this cost me ?" You rolled your eyes, trying your hardest to not completely crumble on the ground.

"Have you seen yourself right now ?"

"Do you care for me ?"

"Not even close."

"Okay fine if you don’t want me…" You feigned walking towards the door but before you reached the handle you turned toward him. "I’ll just deem you gay." You giggled so hard you lost your balance.

The sexual undertones were not unnoticed by Bucky and he simply decided to blame the alcohol for your behaviour– although you always acted this way, sober or not. He was empathetic enough to help you off the ground and lead you back to the couch. You arms were around his shoulders as he grabbed you from your waist. When he tried to pull away, you were still gripping him hard.

"I am so lonely James." you murmured, your voice barely audible against his chest. You felt the rapid thrum of his heart beneath your cheek. He must have great stamina, you thought unaware it was racing for an entirely different reason.

"I know me too." He admitted too. Knowing that you wouldn’t remember it the next day.

He left you sleeping on his couch, you were definitely not going back to your house in this state and he should do with it.

Bucky woke up the next morning to an unexpected sound: silence. No burning kitchen, no flooded bathroom. Everything was exactly as he’d left it. For a moment, he wondered if he’d imagined you being there at all—some kind of strange dream brought on by exhaustion and memory.

But then he saw the neatly folded plaid blanket on the couch. You’d been there. You just left before he woke up. No note, no text—just gone. And it was barely 7 a.m.

It’s fine, he told himself. Nothing happened. I asked her to leave.

Still, a faint, unwelcome flicker of disappointment crept in. You could’ve at least thanked him, right?

He did not have time to dwell on it anyway. He had a more important business to attend to.

…

Sam was glaring at Bucky from across the jet. The hum of the engines was the only sound between them, heavy silence stretching thin like thread ready to snap. After deciding to confront Sam about the shield this morning, Bucky found him heading to Munich for an operation and he decided to tag along. That is pretty much how they found themselves in this situation.

"So…who are we fighting ?" Your voice cut through the quinjet, and you appeared from the steering cabin. You wore a headset and a black gear, the one you usually wore when you went on missions.

Bucky’s head snapped toward you, his expression tightening the second his eyes landed on your face. He grumbled something under his breath—he was definitely cursing you. The corner of your mouth tugged upward despite yourself. You always did have that effect on him.

"Did you plan this ?" His question was raised towards Sam.

"Why would I plan this ? You were the one who forced yourself into this plane" Sam retorted, he then turned to you a bit surprised. "What are you doing here ?"

"I happen to be training to become a pilot here and well it also happens to be the exact plane you guys are in so…" you lingered a bit. "I guess we’re working together." You flashed a wide smile.

"We’re absolutely not." Bucky said.

"I did not ask." You shrugged going to sit right next to Sam, which gave you a great sight of Bucky in front of you. This man looks so good when he’s annoyed. "I think Sam would rather work with me than with your little bitch ass anyway."

"Couldn’t have said it better." Sam muttered, and you extended your hand high-fiving him.

"Do you have something with my ass ? ‘Cause you’ve been talking a lot about it lately ."

"Wouldn’t you want to know." You winked at him. You hunched forward, elbows on your knees and hands supporting your face. Without breaking the eye contact. You stayed like this for a full minute.

Bucky felt… off. Unsettled. You were talking to him like nothing had happened—as if just the night before, you hadn’t shown up at his apartment, drunk and messy and vulnerable. As if you hadn’t buried your face in his chest and confessed that you were lonely. As if you hadn’t fallen asleep right there against him.

And now? You were smirking, teasing him like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing.

Maybe you didn’t remember. Maybe it had been one of those hazy, half-lost nights for you. Or maybe—maybe that kind of moment was just something you could toss aside without blinking.

But for Bucky, it lingered. It was etched into the quiet corners of his mind.

And now you were laughing at him. Flirting like the night hadn’t happened.

He clenched his jaw and broke the eye contact, not trusting himself to speak. Because the truth—the one he hadn’t said out loud—was that it hadn’t been nothing for him.

"Haha you lost !" You cheered, turning to Sam. "See that, I just fixed his staring problem."

Sam caught the brief exchange and couldn’t help the amused grin that spread across his face. This mission wouldn’t be that bad now with you joining them.

"I don’t think you fixed anything. You just made freeky magoo over there very flustered."

Bucky rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Before he could answer anything, Torres appeared from the cockpit.

"One minute till drop off, Sam."

"Y’all did not answer me." You huffed standing up and grabbing an earpiece of you own.

"Flag smashers." Sam briefly answered. "You probably heard of them."

"Thirty seconds !" You heard Torres yell.

"Enjoy your ride Buck." Sam

"Oh no you can’t call me that."

"Why not ? That’s what Steve called you."

"Steve knew me longer and Steve had a plan."

"I have a plan." Sam turned to you. "You coming ?"

"Yep." You got up and Sam extended his hand for you to take. The plane was extremely low so you couldn’t use a chute.

"Fifteen seconds."

Sam gripped your waist.

"Oh yeah, what’s your plan ? Her ?" Bucky called, but Sam ignored him and jumped out of the plane with you in his arms.

"How’s he coming down ?" You asked Sam once you both were in the air flying towards the the outbuilding where your targets were located.

"He’ll manage."

"I had all of that on camera you know that." Sam said from beside you. You were watching Bucky from Redwing’s camera. He was lying on the ground where he fell a few seconds earlier from the plane.

"The whining looks good on you Barnes."

"Get out of my face or you’ll experience what real whining sounds like."

"Kinky." You muttered

"That’s a fucking threat."

The mission had gone sideways—again.

Smoke still lingered in the air, the convoy you were meant to intercept now far gone in the horizon. The intel had been wrong. Again. Too many hostiles, too many surprises, and no backup. Well except for Captain American wannabe and his acolyte.

And somewhere in the brutal fight, Bucky had done what he thought was best.

He had tossed you out of the moving truck.

Literally.

You were still brushing gravel off your jacket as you stormed down the dirt path beside him, your hair wild, your boots stomping with each step. You were limping, pretty sure you had twisted your ankle.

"You threw me off of a fucking truck, Barnes!"

"I saved your life." Bucky snapped, not even looking at you.

Sam trailed just a few steps behind, looking like he was trying not to laugh. Or interfere. Or get involved in the very obvious mess brewing between you two.

You turned on Bucky, not even acknowledging your hobbling stride, walking backward just to glare at him properly. "You couldn’t have just said ‘jump’? But no? You had to manhandle me and yeet me into a ditch like a rag doll?"

"You weren’t listening!" Bucky growled. "You were about to get blown up, and I didn’t have time to argue!"

"So your solution was throwing me out of a moving vehicle?!"

"You’re fine, aren’t you?" he snapped back, finally meeting your glare. "Little bruised ego, that’s all."

Sam finally sighed, raising his hands. "Alright, alright. Can we not kill each other while we’re in the middle of nowhere? I don’t feel like dying because you two decided now was the time to have a full-blown breakup fight—without even dating."

You both turned to glare at him in perfect unison.

Sam just shrugged. "I’m just saying what we’re all thinking."

"She shouldn’t have come." He deadpanned, he wasn’t even addressing to you and this made your blood boil.

Your eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don’t get to decide what I can handle. I’m not some helpless bitch."

"Oh really ?" He let out a dry laugh. "Could’ve fooled me." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

When Bucky stared at your eyes, there was no longer that usual warmth that you always had when you talked to him. Gone was the usual glint of mischief, that effortless warmth you always carried when you tossed a smirk his way or teased him like he didn’t terrify most people. Your gaze now was colder—steeled, unreadable. You weren’t joking anymore.

"Nothing," Bucky gritted out, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I’m just done cleaning up after someone who treats everything like a joke and never thinks about anyone but herself."

The words hung in the air like a slap. You froze mid-step.

He wasn’t just talking about the mission anymore. You knew it.

You stared at him, stunned for a second, before your voice dropped, sharp and cold. “Say what you really want to say, Barnes. Stop dancing around it.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at you.

That silence? It cut deeper than his words.

You shook your head with a bitter smile. “Right. That’s what I thought.” You turned and kept walking.

And maybe for the first time, he realized you were genuinely hurt.

part 2

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for sooo long. There will be a part 2 I just need to edit it, although i’m highly contemplating turning this into a fanfic

2K notes · View notes

marvelstoriesepic · 4 months ago

Text

Small gesture, Big meaning

Pairing: Tfatws!Bucky x Shield!Reader

Summary: Sam and you prepare something for Bucky’s birthday with the little you can scrape together.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Sam roasting a poor muffin; Bucky being in his feels; bickering; subtle mentions of Bucky’s past

Author’s Note: Another little birthday fic because I felt like it. You might notice I'm extremely motivated to write lately. Let’s hope it stays that way. Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

“You’re putting too much faith in that sad little muffin.”

Sam is leaning against the rickety kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching with open amusement as you carefully place a candle in the center of the slightly misshapen muffin. It’s a little lumpy, a little too golden brown in some places, and has a slightly deflated top, but considering that you made it in a barely functioning oven with only the ingredients that are offered here, it looks pretty decent.

Supplies are scarce in this safe house, and baking has never been your strong suit. After all, as an agent of Shield, you don’t really have time for domestic stuff like that.

“It’s not about the muffin,” you shoot back, a little defensive. You are even a little proud of this thing, but you won’t admit that to Sam. “It’s about the thought,” you claim, adjusting the small happy birthday banner you both scrawled on torn notebook paper.

Sam hums, his smile not leaving. “Oh, the thought is loud and clear. Happy birthday, Bucky. Here’s a barely edible clump of regret.”

You narrow your eyes at his mocking tone. “Oh come on, at least I tried. You just stood there judging my culinary struggles.”

“I think you managed just fine.” His smile is so toothy. His voice so sarcastic.

Your eyes fall back to the muffin with a roll of your eyes. Sure, it looks a little rustic, but there is something satisfying about it. The last time you baked something isn’t even a memory in your mind anymore.

Your usual diet consists of protein bars and whatever passes for coffee in whatever part of the world you’re holed up in. But you made this. For Bucky.

And for something that isn’t a tactical maneuver, a recon plan, or a mission briefing, that feels like a win.

“It’s not bad.”

Sam snorts.

You throw him a glare.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there.

This isn’t just about Bucky’s birthday - it’s about reminding him that he’s seen, that someone gives a damn. That after all the decades of war, loss, and suffering, there is still something worth celebrating. Even if it’s just with Sam and you.

Sam clears his throat, shifting his weight. “He’s gonna act all grumpy about it.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, I know. But deep down, he’ll like it.”

Sam softens.

You smile and light the candle.

The safe house you are in right now is tucked in some half-forgotten corner of Eastern Europe - somewhere off the grid but not completely abandoned.

The walls are cracked, the wood is old and worn, the air thick with dust, and the supplies minimal at best. It’s one of those places that’s good for disappearing, for catching a breath, and talking about strategy.

You three have been here for two days now.

There are only a few cans of food, stale crackers, instant coffee that tastes burned. The stove barely works just like the oven, the fridge hums as if it’s dying, and the water pressure in the tiny, rust-stained bathroom is a joke. But it’s shelter, and honestly even quite cozy, and that’s enough.

The situation with Karli and the flag smashers is getting tense. You are trying to track her movements, trying to predict her next move after the GRC camp attack in Latvia.

Bucky left a few hours ago, going after a lead - an arms deal happening at a dockside warehouse a few miles out. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s something, maybe another piece of the super soldier serum still floating around in the wrong hands.

You didn’t want him to go alone and tried to make a case for joining him, but Bucky just gave you that look. The one that said he isn’t going to risk anyone else. The one that said he is used to doing things on his own, whether he likes it or not. And with Sam needing to check in with some of his own contacts, that left you here, holding things down.

So you let him go, but still checked your comms every now and then, waiting for the static to break with his voice.

He should be back soon.

Bucky has not said a thing about it being his birthday.

Not today, not yesterday, not in any of the days leading up to it.

Not that this surprised you. You expected it, honestly.

To him, a birthday does not seem to be a marker of another year lived, but rather just another date on a calendar that is too far ahead of him. Another reminder of all the years he wasn’t really there. Not as himself.

He was his usual brooding self. Still and watchful, sitting on the couch in the corner, hands clasped loosely, tapping his metal fingers against his knee in that absent way he does when his thoughts take him somewhere else.

The only real indication that he even knew his birthday was approaching was the way he got quieter. Bucky is never particularly loud to begin with. But there was a shift, a deepening of whatever burden he carried around.

You caught him staring out the window yesterday, waiting for the sky to darken, for the day to pass by unnoticed, slipping through the cracks like so many others before.

So you didn’t bring it up. Neither did Sam.

You just started planning.

Because if Bucky wasn’t going to acknowledge it, you would.

Maybe not with something big, because he wouldn’t want that, but something. Something only for you. Only for the people closest to him currently. A reminder, even if he didn’t ask for one.

Because birthdays might not matter to Bucky.

But Bucky matters to you.

The door swings open with a push that is firm but not rushed, the kind of movement that says he’s been through a thousand doors just like it, in places just like this, and expects nothing on the other side but the same four walls he left behind.

You straighten. So does Sam.

A gust of cold air follows him in, causing the candle in the muffin to flicker slightly.

Bucky steps inside, his boots scuffing against the worn floorboards, the leather of his jacket creaking faintly as he shifts, pushing the door shut behind him.

You don’t think you’re even breathing as you watch him roll his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of the night - like if he just moves right, he can shrug off the things he doesn’t want to carry.

“It was nothing,” he says, his voice rough, sandpapered. He is already pulling off his gloves, shoving them into his pocket. “Just a few guys moving crates. Looked like standard weapons, no serum, no Flag Smasher insignias. Could’ve been anyone.”

His tone is gruff, dismissive. Almost a little bored.

“Didn’t stick around long,” he continues, metal fingers curling at his sides. “They spotted me. One guy ran, but the rest didn’t put up much of a-”

And then he looks up.

And stops.

His shoulders tense mid-shift, his mouth still half open from words that don’t make it out. His eyes tell the whole story.

They dart from you to Sam to the muffin in your hands, the candle still burning, wax beginning to pool unevenly at the base. Then to the tiny, hand-scrawled banner you quickly shoved into Sam’s fingers to hold up.

Bucky doesn’t move.

For a long second, he just stares. Not in the way he does when he’s sizing up a threat, when he’s tracking movement in a crowded room, when he’s calculating distance and angles and exits. This is different.

His expression isn’t blank, but it’s unreadable in a way that makes you shift from one foot to the other. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with what he is seeing.

“Happy birthday, Bucky.”

The words come out light, but there is something heavy in them, and you feel that your voice is a little hesitant.

Gripping the muffin a little tighter, you suddenly feel self-conscious about how small this gesture is, how little you were able to put together. It felt like enough before. Like something meaningful. But his silence is making you uneasy.

“Happy birthday, man,” Sam echoes, voice sincere.

Bucky blinks several times, needing to catch up. His features, softened in surprise, start to pull back together, a slow crease forming between his brows. His jaw tightens, lips are still parted slightly before he presses them together, as if cutting off whatever response had almost slipped out.

His eyes continue sweeping around, from the muffin, up to you, to Sam, to the imperfect banner. Something swims beneath the blue of his eyes.

“What is this?” His voice is hoarse, like the words catch somewhere on their way out.

Like he doesn’t already know. Like he can’t believe it.

He shifts his weight, arms hanging stiffly at his sides, metal fingers flexing just slightly, one of those little tells you picked up during your time working together.

He is off balance, caught without an escape route, with no blueprints for this kind of thing. A man who has walked through fire and war and every shade of hell, and yet, somehow, this little gesture, is what catches him completely off guard.

There is something vulnerable in the way he looks at you both, something unguarded in the way his throat works around nothing, as if searching for a response but keeps coming up empty.

Because this is not something he can punch his way through or bury beneath sarcasm and brooding.

It’s just a candle and a muffin and a banner and two people standing in front of him, remembering what day it is.

And maybe that’s what gets him the most.

Bucky doesn’t look away.

He has always been one to simply stare at things, but this is getting intense.

As if the whole concept of this - of being given something without having to earn it through blood or survival - is too distant to reach for.

“Damn, man,” Sam drawls, arms crossing over his chest again. “Are you getting so old now that you forgot what a birthday is?”

You don’t know if you want to punch the man beside you in the gut with every ounce of strength you’ve got or grab his stupid face and kiss him like the world is ending. Maybe both. Probably both.

Because the bastard knows exactly what he is doing. Knows how to crack open a moment before it can become too heavy, how to make things easier for Bucky without making a big deal out of it.

And it kind of seems to work.

Bucky’s expression changes in the way his brows furrow deeper. His mouth twitches - almost a frown, almost a smile, almost something in between. Then he exhales sharply, breath hitching before rushing past his lips a little unevenly. It’s a scoff, but it’s weak, like he can’t quite summon the energy to be properly annoyed.

His eyes fall to Sam, sharp but lacking real bite. “Shut up.”

But there is no edge.

No venom. Like if he weren’t so caught off guard, if he had a little more time to settle into this strange, unfamiliar warmth creeping into the edges of the room, he might have actually had something to fire back.

He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to dismiss the moment before it can sink in too deep, before it can reach whatever part of him has spent too long convincing itself that things like that aren’t for him.

His gaze drops again to the candle. The wax drips lower, the flame wavers.

Then his eyes sweep over the lettering of the banner in Sam’s hand, reading your handwriting carefully, over and over and over again.

You offer a warm smile and hold out the muffin toward him, tilting it slightly in invitation. The candle’s flame flickers with the movement.

“You gotta blow out the candle, Bucky.”

He glances at you then, one brow arching in that familiar, dry skepticism, like he is debating whether or not to argue the point. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t argue, only exhales another breath that is just a little shaky.

He steps toward you, slowly, as if closing the space between you and the candle is something to be made precisely, something to be considered.

Up close, the cut of his jaw is a little tighter, the blue of his eyes shadowed but not distant. His hands flex at his sides. Maybe a part of him still expects this to be something else, something with a catch, something not meant for him.

But you keep smiling, keep waiting, Sam keeps watching and after the briefest hesitation, Bucky leans in, breath ghosting warm against the tiny flame, and blows it out.

It snuffs with a quiet puff of smoke, curling into nothing.

Sam claps his hands together once, a low, easy sound that fills the space. “There you go, old man.”

You smile, a little brighter now, something in your chest disentangling at the sight of Bucky standing there, watching the smoke, looking slightly lost, but no longer frozen.

“Did you make a wish?” you ask lightly.

Bucky huffs out a breath. It might be a laugh but it is a little unsteady.

“Sure, doll.”

There is something in the way he says it. Something softer than usual, something a little worn at the edges but genuine.

As though, just maybe, he did not even have to make a wish. Because it already came true.

The candle’s tiny smoke disappears, leaving behind only the muffin - a little too brown, a little too lopsided, but warm in your hands.

Bucky stares at it, his expression unreadable in that way only he can manage, like he is feeling something too big to let show.

Sam sighs dramatically, eyes also trained on whatever you created there.

“Man,” he mutters, shaking his head, “it looked sad before, but with the candle out it looks even sadder. Like a single, abandoned biscuit in the middle of a war zone.”

You gasp, scandalized, turning to him. “Excuse me? This is a perfectly respectable muffin.”

Sam gives you a look, then gestures vaguely toward it. “That thing looks like it’s been through some things - like it’s seen battle, lost some good men, and barely made it home.”

You clutch the muffin closer to your chest. “I will not stand here and let you disrespect my baking skills in such a way.”

“What baking skills, huh?” Sam fires back, smirking. “You found a pre-mixed bag of something that might’ve been flour and might’ve been plaster, mixed it with a prayer, and threw it in the oven. I'm just saying, if that thing had legs, it would’ve walked away out of self-preservation.”

You open your mouth, ready to retort with the sharpest, most brutal comeback you can think of, but Bucky beats you to it.

“It looks nice.”

His voice is quiet but firm, stopping your bickering.

Sam and you both turn to look at him.

Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off the muffin. His hands are still loose at his sides, his stance still slightly hesitant. But his expression is softened.

You don’t bother to hide your triumph as you turn back to Sam. “See? Barnes thinks it looks nice.”

Sam rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath about low standards and winter soldier pity points, but you don’t care.

Because Bucky - who didn’t mention his birthday, who never expects anything from anyone, who looks so lost in thought standing there in the poorly lighted safe house - thinks it looks nice.

And that’s more than enough.

You watch Bucky’s brow furrow slightly into something weighty, as if realizing only now, that you actually made this yourself.

His eyes shift to the uneven edges of the banner Sam is holding, to the way the lettering wobbles just slightly, as though you had to redo it a few times before settling on something half-decent.

Then his eyes move back to the muffin that has been made by hand - your hand - mixed together with the scraps you could find in the barebones safe house, baked in a temperamental oven that probably isn’t even meant for cooking anymore.

For him.

You made all this just for him.

His throat moves as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly as if wanting to voice out something, but nothing comes up. His chest rises and falls, slower than before, as if he is trying to steady himself.

His jaw tightens just a fraction, but it doesn’t harden. It softens again slowly, and when he finally looks back up, there is something there you don’t think you have ever seen before.

A sheen over his eyes, so faint it might go unnoticed if you weren’t looking right back at him. If you weren’t watching him take this in, piece by piece, trying to figure out what to do with it.

He looks so touched.

So utterly affected by your gesture.

He spent so many of his birthdays forgotten, as someone wielded by metal and orders, to now come back to his temporary home, to his temporary family, who remembered long enough to plan a little something for him.

You don’t need to say anything.

You just glance at Sam, and he glances at you. He nods subtly, giving you a meaningful smile.

Because this matters.

Bucky releases a breath from deep within. It comes out slow, an attempt at trying to get his overwhelming emotions out, but it doesn’t seem to have worked that well.

His gaze drops for just a second, as though he needs to compose himself, before he looks back at you with something so gentle and exposed in his expression that it nearly makes you squeeze the fragile muffin in your hand to death.

This isn’t much. Just a tiny celebration in some run-down house out in nowhere.

But to him, it seems to be everything.

“After seeking to understand, it’s not the size of the action that counts. It’s the relevancy and impact of our action that makes the difference.”

- Heather R Younger

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year ago

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Imagine Sam’s pleasant surprise when Bucky treats you gently...

The ride back home was long and quiet... too quiet. Turning to the side, Bucky noticed that you had fallen asleep along the length of the seats opposite to Sam.

While he and Sam had their asses handed to them, you and Joaquin and had been met with an enhanced human. This ended with you suffering a broken rib when deflecting an attack that was aimed at the young soldier.

When Bucky found out he was livid so Sam took point and administered a sedative to help you rest which took hold sooner than expected.

Lifting himself off the crate he was seated on, Bucky walked over to where he had tossed his jacket aside, picking it up and then approached your sleeping form. Carefully, he placed it over your shoulders to give some added comfort, despite it missing an arm sleeve.

“You really have a heart of gold under all that brood.” Sam smirked from where he watched the small exchange.

There was a small sigh from Bucky. “Before the court-mandated therapy, Y/n was the only one I warmed up to. I owe them a lot.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #falcon x reader #falcon imagine #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #falcon and winter soldier imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier x reader #tfatws imagine #tfatws x reader

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buckysfaveplum · 5 months ago

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her weakness

summary: you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, fighting, it’s a fight seen so yea expect things relating to that

a/n: i rewatched tfatws and this fight always makes me so worried for my bbs so yea this was born. I typed it up helllllla quick so I'm sorry if its trash, I'm not too proud of this one idk.

masterlist | send requests

Your feet followed closely behind Bucky as you approached the warehouse. Your limbs were stiff and your skin clammy. Your hand stayed firmly in Bucky’s grasp as you approached John Walker. Sam had tracked him to a storage warehouse near the square you had just witnessed brutality in.

He murdered him, in cold blood, with Steve’s shield. You couldn’t get the screams of the public out of your head, the sound of the vibranium as it slashed into the flagsmasher’s body. You would’ve thrown up if Bucky hadn’t pushed you behind him. You had seen much worse, much more gruesome violence in your line of work. But something about this was sickening, rotting away in your stomach as you tried to grapple with the truth that the shield your friend once carried with honor and pride was just used by an unhinged soldier who found joy in the worst parts of the job.

Bucky stayed ahead of you, following Sam as they entered the building. Your hand trembled in his vibranium grasp. His thumb gently brushed across the veins and bones of your hand, trying to bring you comfort before the scene he knew was about to play out.

As you walked into the large space, you saw him. He was too composed and stoic for what had just taken place. His tall and slender figure loomed as he casually walked up to you all, barely acknowledging Sam as he tried to get him to listen.

“Walker,” Sam started. The soldier brushed Sam’s stern tone off, hopefully delaying what he knew was coming.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” He said, walking past you.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam took a few steps closer, trying again to get him to focus.

Your jaw tightened as you watched the man pace erratically in front of you. He was muttering quietly before responding as if trying to convince himself what he was saying had any truth.

“What?” He asked, coming closer. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do.”

Your grip on Bucky tightened, sensing Walker’s anger began to boil over. You knew a fight was coming, it always was.

“I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!” Walker shouted, his arms waving now and revealing how off the deep end he had gone.

You knew the moment you saw him in that fight. He stole the serum and took it for himself. This behavior just confirmed it. But the serum only enhanced what was already bubbling under the surface. The same John you meet on the highway. The same John who waltzed into the police station as if he had the authority or right to control Bucky and call him an ‘asset’. It was always there.

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Bucky’s smooth and deep voice cut through the tension in the room. You felt his grip on your hand squeeze for a moment, making sure you were okay. He could always sense your anxiety in the field. Your powers made keeping your calm difficult. You would never use them in battle unless your opponent was enhanced as well. You were a skilled fighter and agent, you didn’t need them. And it didn’t always seem ethical. But keeping them at bay, in check, could prove difficult- especially in heightened situations such as this.

Walker scoffed at Bucky’s words, dismissing the truth like it was nothing.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well,” Bucky said.

“I’m not like you!” Walker’s voice was full of disgust and resentment. From the moment you met him, you could sense his quiet disdain for your best friend. Looking down his nose at him like he was some scum left over from Steve's life, something he’d always have to deal with. Yet at the same time, resentment. Jealousy over his power, control, and abilities in his enhanced body. As if that’s what made him an excellent fighter. Or a good person.

Your spare hand moved between Bucky’s shoulder blades, giving him a subtle and quiet support as you prepared.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle, okay?” Sam said, taking a step closer to Walker. That shield danced in your vision, taunting you as he paced back and forth. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.”

Walker’s distress spread across his face, his brows furrowing and eyes scrunching as he tussled with Sam’s words.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Sam said.

The warehouse went silent as Walker stared at the ground before him. Bucky gave you a soft, tight-lipped smile before begrudgingly dropping your hand. He slowly took a step towards the man, joining Sam.

“John…” Bucky said, calmly.

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” Sam said.

That did it. You could feel the room shift that second.

A disturbing serene aura washed over Walker at that moment. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to you all. His eyes were dark, lacking a certain warmth and compassion you had grown so used to seeing through that blue cowl. A certain warmth that left when he hung up the shield.

“Oh…. so that’s what this is,” Walker said. “You almost got me.”

You could see his grip on the shield tighten, the leather straps twisting between his fingers.

“You made a mistake,” Sam said.

You slowly took a step forward, your hands flexing as you prepared for what was to come. Walker finally turned his gaze to you. His eyes roamed you up and down. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, that familiar muscle tightening in distress. Walker smirked at you before glancing at Bucky. He could read the protectiveness radiating off of your supersoldier.

“You don’t wanna do this,” Walker said to him.

Bucky didn’t meet his gaze. His fists balled at his side, practically shaking with anger. He never took pleasure in a fight, every punch or kick felt like a necessity rather than enjoyment. But he couldn’t deny how much he desired to rip that shield from his grimy hands.

“Yeah we do,” Bucky said.

Sam lurched forward first, Bucky soon following suit. Your feet moved quickly, moving behind Walker as your friends attacked from the front. The man moved with a speed you had yet to see from him, a brute force you could only get from the serum.

With a harsh kick, Walker sent Sam flying away, leaving you and Bucky alone. You tried to knock Walker down from the back as Bucky grappled with the shield. As you sent a harsh kick into the back of Walker’s knees, he spun quickly and sent a jab into Bucky’s gut sending him backward in pain and knocking him off balance. Before you could back him up, Walker slammed a harsh punch into Bucky’s jaw. Your heart raced and your hands shook as you watched him drop to the ground. You sprung into action, pulling the shield back in your hands and keeping Walker from smashing it into Bucky’s face. Sam leaped in, kicking the shield up and drawing attention to him.

You slammed a kick into Walker’s back, sending him stumbling forward as Sam slashed at him with his wings. Bucky leaped up, his arm aiming to come down on the faux Captain America’s back hard but was ultimately blocked by the shield.

You were growing frustrated. Walker never packed this much of a punch. The serum raged through his veins, lacing each kick and swing of the shield with force and hate. As you and Sam continued to trade blocks at Walker, Bucky attempted to pull him down but was quickly met with the shield swinging into the side of his face. Your legs shook. The longer this dragged out the more difficult you find keeping your emotions in check. The longer you watched your favorite person in the world become decorated with blood and bruises, the more your ethical code began to look like a suggestion. Walker deserved a swift blast to the face and more. But you held off.

Walker slammed the shield into Sam’s back, sending him down. As your two friends recovered briefly, it was just you and him. You surged forward at the man, dodging as he swung at you. Being smaller than the two Avengers alongside you made it much easier to evade Walker’s sloppy attacks. You sent a firm kick into his chest followed by an uppercut into his chin. As he spun and tumbled, Bucky was back on his feet and meeting Walker with punches. Bucky’s attacks quickly led the pair into a tight spot, backing Walker up into a heavy piece of machinery. The pair spun in circles over the shield, yanking the vibranium disc back and forth and trading beatings in between. Sam quickly followed you over, diving in for aid, but quickly was sent flying back by Walker’s attacks. His body slammed to the ground with a grunt.

While Bucky worked, you glanced at Sam. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, preparing to dive back into the fight. In your moment of distraction, the fear and care for your dear friend overriding your common sense to keep fighting, you heard Walker’s voice pull you back. Bucky was trapped between the shield and a machine. You rushed over to help but it was far too late.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Before you could register what Walker was saying, you watched as Bucky went flying.

Walker’s forceful swing of the shield sent him hurtling across the warehouse. Your body froze as if someone had filled your veins with cement. The dramatic scene Walker had created came to an end with Bucky’s body smashing into an electrified pole and crashing to the ground. The might of his impact snapped the pole in the middle, sparks cascaded from the steel and flooded onto the floors; leading your eyes to Bucky.

“Bucky!” You screamed.

His body lay limp and splayed out on the cold dirty floors. His face was smushed into the cement. His limbs didn’t dare to move. Except for his vibranium arm, which twitched and spasmed under his body; blue and white sparks burst out from the plates adding to the horror.

Your breaths were heavy and shaky, your hands trembled at your sides as the vibrating blue of your powers began to spark at your fingertips; mirroring the sight of your best friend’s arm. The room was spinning, at least that’s what made sense to you. Your balance was unstable, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. You turned to spare a look at Sam, begging him for permission. But he was already back on his feet and rushing towards Walker.

“Go!” He shouted.

You had never been faster. Your abilities never gave you the gift of flight but in that moment they very well could have. Your legs became weak and your steps messy as you neared Bucky. You crashed to your knees beside him, pain radiated up your thighs from the impact but you couldn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than the expanding tight pain in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

Your hands quivered as they hovered over his body. With him lying so still you could finally take in the damage Walker had done to his face. Blood was splattered all over, deep purple and blue hues bloomed across his cheekbones, and a nasty split had opened on his lip. Worst of all, his nose was broken.

The sparks continued to burst from the plates of his arm, his hand jerking and spasming with an unsettling sound of grinding metal. Quickly, you placed your hands firmly on the vibranium. A deep blue beamed from under your palms, cascading the metallic golds and blacks of his arm in your glow. The excess electricity from the crash moved in waves through the arm up into your hands. You focused as all the veins in your body became electrified, an aqua glow shone through your skin as the energy you. Your once y/e/c eyes were quickly overtaken, the cool energy overriding your iris’ and leaving an intense indigo shine. With a sharp gasp and breath, you let go. His arm had stopped moving, now lying as still and motionless as he did.

“Bucky,” you said, giving his damaged body a soft shake. “Bucky, wake up.”

He didn’t move, his face slack and limps heavy as you struggled to turn him to his back and off of his arm. Your hands rushed to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him close as if you could shield him from more of John Walker’s savagery. If someone had the power to take your abilities and trade them for the ability to heal, you’d offer them anything they wished just for the potential to spare Bucky from his pain even for a moment.

“Buck… come on wake up,” the fresh blood from his injuries spilled into your fingertips, the crimson caked into your cuticles and threatened not to leave.

“Plum, please,” His body twitched; your lungs finally filled with air.

His breaths were labored but there, his chest rattled as he sucked in much-needed air. Your fingers moved to his neck, their shuddering finally stilling as you felt his pulse return to a firm and strong pattern.

The sounds of Sam’s grunts and Walker’s cries swiftly pulled your attention back to your friend. He was up in the air, a long metal cord pulling on the shield and attempting to free it from Walker’s venomous grasp. To no avail, as soon Sam was flung back to the floor and across the room. The shield clattered to the ground, equally laid between the two men. The smug and determined look on Walker’s face enraged you, the blue glow returning to your eyes. Sam glanced over at you before rushing for the shield. He needed you.

You turned back to Bucky, still unresponsive to your touches and voice. He was breathing, his pulse steady. Taking in the broken state of his body, his face battered and bloodied, you couldn’t hold back your rage any longer.

It was as if something had possessed you. Gently, you laid Bucky back to the ground, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, your voice monotone yet determined. The expressions of concern, fear, and horror that had played upon your face just moments ago were now gone. You were cold and still, as you rose to your feet and walked over to the two men fighting behind you.

Before Walker could grab the shield, a harsh blast of blue energy sent him flying back in the opposite direction. The man was studded, confused by how he could have been knocked down. He looked up to see you rushing towards him. You were steady in your movement, not running but with each step winding up for the next blow. Your hands were baked in a fierce glow of aqua as you channeled more energy through your fingertips.

Walker scrambled to his feet, preparing for the offense. Before he could even take a step he was back on the ground with another blast from you. A loud cry fell from your lips as you slammed him down with force from your power. As you ran up to Walker, he quickly sent a firm hit to your jaw. You stumbled back, regaining your vision to see him coming at you. You jumped up, knees to your chest and feet pressing on his as you blasted him once again.

He was on the ground with you towering over him. His face was coated in shades of black and blue, mirroring the face you were trembling over just seconds ago. Good, he deserved that and more.

You blasted him again as he struggled to crawl away. You followed him, hot on his trail as energy overflowed from your hands. The shield was long forgotten by you, only driven by your need for revenge. Bucky couldn’t even answer you, couldn’t move. He needed to pay.

Walker’s body slammed back into machinery as you surged more energy at him. He was done, hands shaking above him as he prepared for your next blow.

“We’re better than this right? Captain America doesn’t do this,” Walker said through his split lip and shaking jaw.

You scoffed; if only he had thought that way an hour ago. You wouldn’t be here. Bucky would be okay.

“Good thing I’m not Captain America,” you said. Walker shielded his face as you wound up your aim. Energy radiated from your fist up your forearm as you pulled it back to deliver one last shot.

“Y/n, stop!” Sam shouted.

Your blast was halted by a firm hand on your upper arm. You recognized the stillness and coolness that held onto your body. Turning you saw Bucky behind you. He was shaking as he stood, breaths labored and heavy, but there he was. Sam ran up behind the two of you, shield in hand as he looked at you. But all you could focus on was Bucky.

Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head softly as he lowered your arm.

“This isn’t you, you don’t do this,” he said. Your nostrils flared as you breathed heavily, struggling to reel your rage back in. You glanced back at Walker who lay on the ground, glaring at you smugly. Your eyes shone brighter, your fists clenching as the glow intensified.

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking your face and turning you to look back at him. “You’re not him.”

The energy overtaking your body began to fade as you relaxed under his firm touch. The uncontrollable blue glow began to fade back into your body, leaving you panting as you tried to calm your emotions. Bucky stood before you, vibranium hand stroking your own.

“You’re okay,” you said.

“I’m okay. Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s over,” he said, pulling you away from the scene you had created. He walked you slowly back towards Sam, you shook in his grasp. Walker struggled to stand as he watched the three of you leave. The shield taunted him as it hung off of Sam’s arm, finally back with its true owner. The Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at Sam. “I just….” you glanced at Bucky, once again seeing the battering of his beautiful face. Your throat swelled as you lost your words, choking on your fear.

“We got it back,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the building. His limp as he walked didn’t escape you.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly, pulling you with him as he walked. He didn’t make it far before his knees began to buckle, his body slipping as he fell. You were at his side in a heartbeat, arm hauling him back up beside you; refusing to let his body crash to the filthy ground again.

“Hey, hold onto me,” you said. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and his other gripped at your waist as you began to pull him from the warehouse, his feet limping and tripping as he struggled to walk. Walker’s body began to fade in the distance as you left.

“Why did you do that, doll?” Bucky asked as you walked, his voice slurred and low. Each wince and suck of breath stabbed at your side like a pecking bird, refusing to let your wound heal.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done that. I….” you paused, stopping your feet as you gave him a moment to catch his breath. “When I saw you hit that pole, I lost it.”

“I’m okay, Y/n,” he said, yet his words seemed to hold no weight as he struggled to stay upright at your side.

“Your arm was sparking, Bucky. You weren’t moving. I-I thought that you…” You couldn’t finish, gripping him tighter as your voice shook. As if letting him go would give the world a chance to tear him from you once again. Your fingertips dug into his tact suit, determined to embed yourself in him.

“Hey, babydoll,” he said, hoisting himself up just enough to take your face in his hands. He swayed on his feet as he stood, intent on holding you close as he spoke. Your hands held him steady at his side.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here. But no matter what happens to me, I don’t want you to lose yourself,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I can’t have that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you said.

“You won’t. I’m right here, I’m always coming back to you.”

You nodded softly as you rested your head on his chest. His hands moved to your hair as he held you close. Your hands wound around his center, keeping him safe in your arms. As long as you were around, no one would take him.

“You’re so good, you’re so special, Y/n. You need to be strong, even if I get hurt. You can’t drop your morals for me. They mean too much to you,” he said.

“I think you may be my weakness,” you said, your voice muffled in his chest. He tucked himself closer into you at your words, his head resting upon yours. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“You’ve always been mine,” he said softly.

---

taglist:

(comment to join <3)

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #fanfic #tfatws #marvel #fanfiction

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pome-seed · 3 months ago

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The Soldier's Keeper Masterlist

Started: 4/14/25

Last Updated: 6/11/25 - Ongoing

☆Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader ☆ A doctor, taken from your lab where you study degenerative muscular diseases, find yourself trapped and charged with caring for a living weapon. Terrified for yours and your family's safety, you must work to appease your captors and care for a man who seems haunted beyond words. And as time goes on, you begin to learn just how human the man really is.

Warnings: Graphic Violence. Angst. Description of Torture. Description of Wounds. Weapons. Heavy Angst. Slow Burn. Intimacy. Sexual Content. Smut. The Winter Soldier.

18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Phase One

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Phase Two

Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29

Phase Three

Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44

Unconnected to the main series, but in the same universe -

Soldat

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader | Angst | 18+ ☆The reader knew her soft hearted connection to her unwilling patient would become a tool her captors used against her. So, after escaping captivity only to find the soldier waiting in her motel room to retrieve her, she shouldn't have been shocked.

The Soldat's Touch

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Ex Doctor!Reader | Smut- Sexual content | 18+ MDNI ☆ You were once a doctor under Hydra's influence. Now you have your life back, but you see The Winter Soldier everywhere. And tonight, you just can't turn him away.

A/N: Enjoy! Please be kind!

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imtaashu · 23 days ago

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can we all talk about this photoshooot !!?? 🥵❤️‍🔥

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months ago

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hii! i love your writing!! can i please request a bucky x reader where reader finds out that bucky often sleeps on the floor and when she notices she ends up sleeping next to him on the floor but then a few days later she makes a blanket fort so at least they’ll be in a cute environment while sleeping on the floor

For You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: TFATWS/Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You find out that Bucky sleeps on the floor and you end up sleeping next to him. For Bucky, you’ll do anything. Even if it means sleeping on the floor.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of HYDRA, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the cute request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! GIF credit goes to the creator.

You woke up in the middle night to get something to drink and then went back to bed. You frowned in confusion when something felt off. You felt the bed next to you, expecting Bucky to be asleep next to you, but he wasn’t. Where could he be at this time of night? You got out of bed to look for him. You didn’t have to go far. You found him sleeping on the living room floor with the TV on a low volume. It made you wonder why your boyfriend was sleeping on the hard floor instead of a nice comfortable bed. You sat down on the floor next to him.

“Babe.” You gently shook him. “Baby, wake up.” You whispered.

Bucky jumped slightly as he woke up. He looked at you and sat up.

“Hey, doll. Is everything ok?” Bucky asks softly, his voice raspy from sleeping.

“Everything is fine.” You say softly. “Why are you sleeping on the floor when we have a soft bed down the hall?” You asked.

Bucky shrugged and looked down.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” You asked softly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, babydoll.” He assures. “It’s just-” He pauses and sighs softly.

“It’s just what, baby?” You asked. “I’m your girlfriend. You can tell me anything.” You say softly.

“I have a hard time sleeping in beds. It feels like I’m going to sink down to the floor.” He finally says.

“Is it because of the war?” You asked.

“Partly. It’s also partly because of HYDRA.” He tells you.

“Oh, sweetie…” You whispered, hugging him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You asked softly.

Bucky leans his forehead against your shoulder and shrugs his shoulders.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Bucky says.

“I’m your girlfriend. I’m going to worry about you no matter what.” You say.

Bucky lifted his head and looked deep in your eyes. You could see how tired he is just by looking in his eyes. You cupped his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs against the stubble of his beard.

“You know how much I love you?” You asked softly.

“Yes I do.” Bucky smiles.

You kissed him sweetly and passionately.

“I’ll be right back.” You say.

Bucky nodded as you stood up. You went to yours and his bedroom to get a pillow and a blanket and went back to the living room. You dropped both of them on the floor next to Bucky and sat back down on the floor. You laid down and covered yourself up.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky asks.

“I’m sleeping on the floor with you.” You say.

“You’re going to be uncomfortable.” He says.

“It’ll be worth it, because I’ll do anything for you. Even if it means sleeping on a hard floor.” You say.

Bucky smiles and leans over you to kiss you softly.

“I love you so much, babydoll.” Bucky whispers.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” You whispered back.

Bucky laid back down on the floor and protectively wrapped his arm around you before falling back to sleep.

That morning, you woke up to the sun shining through the living room window and the TV still on a low volume. You rolled over onto your back, seeing Bucky loving down at you with a fond smile on his face. He was propped up on his elbow.

“Good morning, handsome.” You smiled up at him.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Bucky smiles.

Bucky leans down and kisses you softly.

“How do you feel after sleeping on the floor?” He asks.

“My back hurts a little bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” You say.

“I’ll give you a back rub if you want.” He suggests.

“That would be amazing, baby.” You say softly.

———

Over the next few days, you planned out how to make the floor more comfortable to sleep on. That’s when it hit you… blanket fort! Everyone loves forts, right? So you went to the store and bought a few decorative pillows, along with a comforter to put on the floor so it’s a little more comfortable. When you got home, you found the perfect blankets in the closet in yours and Bucky’s bedroom closet. You finished setting everything up in the living just as Bucky got home.

“Doll, I’m home!” Bucky says as he walks in the apartment.

“Living room!” You say.

Bucky tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and went to the living room to see a cute blanket fort on the floor.

“What’s all this?” Bucky asks.

“It’s a blanket fort, baby!” You say excitedly.

You walked over to your boyfriend and welcomed him home with a soft kiss on his lips.

“I thought it would be a good idea to make the floor more comfortable for the both of us if I’m going to be sleeping on the floor with you.” You say sweetly.

“You didn’t have to do this, babydoll.” Bucky says.

“I wanted to.” You say.

“Your back is going to hurt if you keep sleeping on the floor with me.” He says with worry in his voice.

“It’ll be worth it, babe, because I have an amazing who gives me incredible back rubs.” You say with a smile.

Bucky smiles widely. He kisses you passionately.

“You’re so sweet, doll.” He almost whispers.

You smiled and pecked his lips softly.

“Do you want to get in the fort with me?” You asked.

“Of course I do.” He answers softly.

You were first to get in the fort. Bucky followed you inside of it, laying down next to you. Alpine saw the fort and walked over to it. She curiously sniffed the blankets before stepping inside of the fort.

“Look who wants to join us.” You cooed.

“There’s daddy’s girl.” Bucky coos.

Alpine got on Bucky’s stomach and laid down. You guys gave her lovings.

“Thank you for this, babydoll.” Bucky says softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, honey. I’ll do anything for you.” You say softly.

“I love you so much.” He almost whispers.

“I love you too.” You whispered back.

-Bucky’s Doll

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