#The Falcon and the Winter Soldier One Shot

[wbellab]

Therapy session | J. Bucky Barnes

this could be read as a standalone or a part 2 of Busy Woman.

summary: after a chaotic mission, you end up attending a therapy session with bucky trying to mend up your relationship. this seems to have worsen up everything.

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

cw: angsssst, therapy session, inspired by sambucky session in tfatws, graphic violence, some fluff (crumbles and bits), no use of y/n

3.1 k words

"Alright, Dr Raynor." You stated, more like a question and she nodded. "I get why you want me to talk to freaky magoo over here. But I’m a hundred per cent fine."

You definitely were not fine.

After the failed mission, Sam had dragged both you and Bucky to Baltimore in a failed attempt to get information from a former super soldier. That went about as well as expected. Meaning not at all. And to top it off, Bucky got arrested for skipping therapy.

But the real question was: why were you sitting there with him now?

There’s a high chance that Sam had conveniently brought up the fact that your relationship with Bucky had become a bit rocky— not that you ever really got along. Either that, or the tension between you had been so thick it practically walked into the room before you did.

"It is my job to make sure you both are okay. Sam told me what happened, so yeah." Oh so you were right. "This may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way that I can see you getting over whatever’s eating at you."

"This is ridiculous." You muttered.

"Yeah i agree."

"Okay we’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they’re trying to figure what kind of life they’re trying to build together." You let out a snort, not out of amusement but irony. Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"Are you familiar with the miracle question ?"

"I don’t think it’s necessar-" Bucky started but you cut him off.

"No I’m not. What is it ?"

"Okay it goes like this. Suppose that while you are sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up what is something you would like to see that would make your life better ?"

With no surprise, Bucky was the first to answer the question.

"In my miracle, she would talk less."

"Is that why you threw me out of a moving truck asshole?"

"See what i mean." He turned to the therapist, which made you send a glare towards him.

"You both are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul gazing exercise."

"I like this one."

"Oh thank you I love this."

"Oh you should really enjoy this." You told him, moving your chair so that you would be facing him.

"I’m going to."

"I know you are."

"Okay you both face each other." The therapist instructed.

"Let’s do it let’s stare."

"We get close this is a good exercise."

"Thanks doc." You muttered.

"Alright, good get close. Come on closer."

"Well which way you want to go, right or left ?"

"Why do you have your legs wide open. You want me to sit on your lap or what ? You know what, fine." You scooted forward, legs angling inward until your knee pressed between his—and his was between yours.

The position was awkward. Too awkward. You could feel the brush of his knee against your inner thigh, too high, too warm. And though you hated to admit it, you could’ve almost been aroused by it. If your anger toward him didn’t burn hotter than the tension.

"You happy now ?" You huffed, successfully concealing your flustered state—which Bucky hasn’t been able to hide.

He sat stiffly, visibly uncomfortable, like even the slightest movement might set something off. He hadn’t moved an inch since you got close. Shoulders tense, jaw tight, clearly unsure where to look. It would’ve been satisfying if you weren’t equally rattled beneath the surface.

"All right, good. That’s fine." The therapist tried to stop your banter.

"It’s a little close." He muttered.

"It’s very close that’s what you wanted right ?" You retorted aggressively.

"Guys,"you both stopped. "Now look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes," you stared right at his blue eyes, a frown on your face similar to his. "There you see that wasn’t so hard."

You just continued staring right in them. Your eyes squinted trying hard not to blink as he did the same back.

You were still mad, furious actually, that he tossed you out of the damn truck without a single word. Like you were just some reckless burden he couldn’t deal with a second longer. And now, you wanted him to feel that. Every ounce of your anger.

So you weren’t about to blink. Not once. Not until he squirmed. Not until he realized you weren’t going to let him off easy.

Probably childish but effective.

"Wait what are you doing ? Are you having a staring contest ?" When none of you responded she snapped her fingers, making you close your teary eyes. Dammit.

"Just blink. Sweet Jesus."

Bucky’s frown was still on his face as he stared at the doctor.

"All right, Bucky, why does she aggravate you ?" A smirk started forming on his lips. He could definitely think of a bunch of reasons why you aggravated him. And when he was about to mention your current interest to his ass, Doctor Raynor cut him off. "And don’t say something childish."

Bucky’s smirk faltered and he let out a frustrated breathe. His jaw clenched as he started thinking, the muscle twitching like he was holding something back. For a second, he looked like he might drop it entirely. But then he sighed, tired of carrying the question around in silence.

"Why are you always flirting with me?" he asked quietly, almost too quietly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t bitter. It was genuine, and that made it worse. There was a flicker of something raw behind his eyes, like he hated that he even had to ask. He sounded insecure and he hated it.


"Oh my god is this what it is all about?" You dryly chuckle. "Why are you making such a big deal out of something so insignificant ?"

"Do you flirt with Bucky to push his buttons ?" The therapist chimed in, a bit more interested in the direction the conversation was flowing.

You rolled your eyes. What is it with all these weird questions ?

"I flirt with him because I like him. The button pushing is just a bonus."

"Yeah. Of course you would." His voice was cold. Harsh and condescending. Every hint of amusement disappeared from your face. "Do you get a kick out of messing with people just for fun? You don’t get to flirt with people and then act like none of this matters. Like I’m just something to pass the time until you get bored. It’s fucking disgraceful. And I’m–"

He couldn’t bring himself to say more. You were staring right at him, a frown on your face. How could he bring himself to explain what he was feeling out loud?

Bucky couldn’t believe you. He wouldn’t believe that you simply liked him. This was too simple of an explanation for someone like him. Someone that did horrible things couldn’t be wanted in the first place.

And it wasn’t just his own insecurities getting through him.

No. This was anchored in his brain, as if a small cognitive part of it told him this wasn’t possible. That every small moment of kindness was a lie he wasn’t allowed to believe in. Someone like him don’t get the girl, not really. Not without her regretting it later.

Another part of his brain told him your boldness and playfulness were just a reflection of the value you had of him, insignificant. You were messing with him, knowing Bucky would fall for you.

And how could he not ? You did everything to make him. When you were so insistent with him, bold, charismatic and funny. Clingy and affectionate. You were everything he had been craving since he came back from Hydra. There was absolutely no universe in which James Buchanan Barnes wouldn’t have fallen for you.

"Don’t act like this is real. It’s unfair." He said more softly.

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. It wasn’t mean, not exactly but this was as if. You couldn’t believe you ever let yourself fall for someone like him. He never really understood you.

What you felt in that moment was a deep, gut-punch kind of hurt.

Being told it all meant nothing. That your affection was careless or meaningless. This all shattered something fragile inside you. Everything you ever said or did, thinking it was sweet or meaningful felt exposed, misunderstood. Like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place, something you’d been too oblivious to see or too hopeful to admit.

He would never like you, never reciprocate the feelings.

This wasn’t just romantic rejection. It was emotional rejection. He hadn’t just dismissed your feelings, he’d rejected the way you showed your love to him. And that hit harder than anything else. It was humiliating to care so much, and be accused of the exact opposite.

With a final sigh, you told yourself this would be all over. You were done being taken for a fool.

"You know what’s really unfair? You dismissing my fucking feelings when I have been displaying them so obviously." You bit back, scooting your chair away from him, when you noticed the proximity you still had. "Maybe this is something you would never understand and I’m so done making a fool out of myself just for you to not get the signals." You snapped. Breathe in, breathe out. You turned to the doctor, glaring at her like she'd personally orchestrated this mess. She did nothing wrong but she was the reason why you were here, trapped in this room, sitting across from him. And right now, that was enough.

You didn’t even have the sense to feel guilty for it. Not with the way your chest burned. Not after everything that had gone unsaid.

"You know what Doc I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this, I will squash it, right now. We’re gonna deal with this and when we’re done we’ll go on long separate vacations. And never see each other again."

"Yeah." He sighed, he did not want you to squash it. He wanted to talk, to understand. "I like that." He lied.

"Great then let’s get to work." You turned to the therapist. "Thanks doc for making it weird. I feel so much better. See you outside." You rolled your eyes, stomping to the door. This was a total mess.

"Thank you." She answered, but you were already gone. She turned to Bucky. "That was really great. You’re doing better at expressing your emotions. Maybe next time, we’ll work on the dating part." He completely ignored her, standing up to leave before being interrupted by her. "I know that look." She stared at him as if she would see right through him. "You’re pushing her away."

He ignored what she said once again. "What was rule number two again ?"

"Don’t hurt anyone." She simply answered.

"Goodbye doc."

This session did not help your case. It was worse and Sam noticed.

"So how did it go ?" He asked you once you were out.

"Get lost." You muttered, going through the door to leave the police station.

Sam turned to Bucky who left the room a few seconds after you, noticing the gloomy stare on his face.

"I get that it did not go as well as expected."

"Oh fuck off."

"Ok guys I don’t know what happened in this room but you need to deal with it like right now before we enter Madripoor."

"There’s nothing wrong. I’m totally fine, let’s deal with the more important matters." You scoffed

"If I may say–"

"Shut up."

"Please don’t."

You and Bucky said at the same time. Zemo raised an eyebrow but wisely chose silence, folding his hands behind his back. It had barely been three hours since Bucky busted him out of prison, and those three hours had already been filled with tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The fallout of that decision had led to a heated argument between you and Bucky, and the aftermath still lingered, electric and unspoken, hovering just beneath the surface.

And this tension would linger for days.

"You should fuck the tension off. Worked well with my wife." Zemo mentioned once in the jet.

"That’s what I told them." Sam grumbled, it seemed like it was the only thing he agreed about with Zemo.

You and Bucky both turned to glare at him in unison.

This was hard. The comments, all the underlying tension. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to anyone else but you hadn’t moved on. Not really. It still hurt to think about it. Not in a loud, obvious way but in a slow, aching kind that sat in your chest and made it hard to breathe.


It was over before it ever began. That was the part that stung the most.

You kept your eyes off him. Avoided looking. You didn’t know if he was watching you, and you didn’t care anymore. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The mission was done. You had stopped the Flash Smaggers’ attack on New York. You’d won.

And yet.

You noticed how close Sam and Bucky had become. You also noticed how far you’d drifted, not just from Sam, but from everyone. Two months. No calls returned. No contact. Just silence. You were alone again. Like before. And somehow, that felt almost familiar. Pathetic, but familiar.

Your boots hit the pavement in steady, silent steps. You were walking nowhere. Just moving.

And then you felt it, the presence behind you. Subtle, careful. But not careful enough. You’d clocked them almost thirty minutes ago. You were trained for this. So you led them here in a dark alley, bad angles.

You pressed your back to the cold brick wall, waited. As soon as the figure passed the corner, you struck. Knife in hand, aiming for the throat.

But they were faster. The blade never made it.


You felt cold metal clamp around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion. Bucky. Of course.

You didn’t hesitate. If anything, that just made you angrier.

You slammed your heel into his solar plexus. He faltered, loosened his grip, and your wrist slipped free. In one fluid motion, you ducked low, sweeping for his legs.
But he was already moving.

Instead, he grabbed your jacket, yanked you forward, and slammed you against the wall with a thud that echoed.

You retaliated immediately, headbutting him hard bone cracking against bone. He staggered, blood running from his nose, and you used the opening to punch him in the stomach.

But before it could collide, he grabbed your wrist, and twisted it back. But you twisted with him, using the momentum to slam your elbow into his ribs again and shove him into the wall.

He gripped your waist, lifted you, and threw you to the ground. Hard.

You hit the concrete with a grunt, For a second, something flickered in his expression, concern, hesitation. And that split-second lapse was all you needed. You kicked upward, catching him in the thigh, rolling to your feet before he could pin you.

You were breathing hard now, both of you bruised, dirt and blood smeared across your clothes, faces cut and scraped from the pavement.

"Stop following me. You think you can just toss me out of a truck, dismiss my feelings and then follow me like nothing happened?" you snarled, your leg connected with the back of his knee to destabilize him. "You don’t get to throw me away literally and come running when you feel like it."

He stumbled back, but he caught himself. "You’re the one who disappeared."

You didn’t even wait. You slammed your elbow to his throat, driving him into the alley wall with a loud thud.

"Because you made it clear I meant nothing to you!"

"I did not mean to hurt you." he spat back, shoving you off him roughly. "You think any of this is easy for me?"

"I don’t care if it’s easy!" You shoved again, fists pounding at his chest now. "You said I toyed with you. You said I didn’t care. You made me feel like I was some stupid little girl who couldn’t take this seriously—"

"You think I don’t feel anything?" His voice cracked, but not out of emotion. Out of sheer frustration. "I was lost and I couldn’t understand you. I was trying to protect you!"

"By humiliating me? By making me feel like shit? You don't get to act like some noble idiot now, Bucky. You’re not the victim."

He lunged again, catching your wrists, holding them against the wall this time. Not gently.

"You think I’m not aware of that?" his voice was low in your ear. "I know I’m screwed up. I know what people see when they look at me. So forgive me if I don’t believe it when someone like you pretends to give a damn."

Your breathing was ragged. The tension between you was suffocating.

"Get your hands off me," you whispered.

He didn’t move. "Say you didn’t mean it."

"What?"

"All the flirting. The drunk night. The things you said. Say you didn’t mean any of it."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. But you didn’t say a word.

That silence was enough.

He let go of you like your skin burned him, and took two steps back.

The distance felt a hell of a lot colder than the fight.

"I was cruel," he said quietly.

"You were," you answered, not softening it for him.

And he nodded, like he knew you would say that. Like he needed to hear it.

“It wasn’t about you,” he said. "But I made it about you. I made you pay for the shit in my head, and that’s on me."

"I no longer care." You lied.

"Please come back." His hand grabbed you arm, softly now. You let him guide you towards him. Although you stayed impassive.

"No. James don’t."

He ignored you and caressed the bruise that was forming on your forehead.

"I’m sorry." He muttered. You couldn’t tell if he meant the bruise or everything else—but your throat tightened anyway.

You frowned, eyes stinging, and before you could stop yourself, everything that you’ve been bottling up had exploded. Tears spilled over and he saw it.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he could keep the world out.

"It’s okay. I’ve got you." He muttered, his hand stroking your hair.

You sank into him, both of you slowly lowering to the ground. He followed without letting go, holding you as tightly as he could while you cried against his chest.

"You deserve better, doll."

"I don’t–" Your choked on a sob. And he only pulled you tighter.

"We’ll figure it out. I’m not letting you go again."

Dirtied, bloodied, bruised. You both looked wrecked. And somehow, in the thick of it all, you decided to believe him. To start over.

Not with promises. Not with pretty words. But with this—his arms around you, your tears on his shirt, and the silence that didn’t need to be filled.

That was how it would begin: in the comfort of the chaos. Not clean, not easy. But real.

a/n: i was about to separate this one and make a part 3 but i m on my exam period so it was either binge writing it or never finishing it. Thank you for everyone all of you I truly appreciate that you liked the first part !

@vxllys @seventeen-x @softpia @just-a-little-awkward @am-3-thyst @freshfreakoaftrash @awinchester83 @stars4birdie @ladyliloslife @starstruckfirecat @hannahbanannax @genlovesdcb @fandomsearcherforcuntymen

@astermwah @spaceunicorn293 @inloveallthetime @bigteefsmallbrain @oceanaroma @winchestert101 @thatgirljas13

[stargrillzz]

Even the silence screams

summary: He couln't allow himself to feel something after everything he's done. It was like a punishment, but you coming around, made it even worst.

Note: nothing to say except the usual, I LOVE THIS MAN GOD DAMN. xoxo

Ever since Bucky Barnes stepped foot into Stark Tower, he felt like walking ice.

He didn’t speak to anyone but Steve, and even then, his voice was quiet, subdued, heavy with a weight no one could see but everyone could feel. His eyes carried shadows, and his presence seemed to suck the warmth out of every room he entered.

The rest of the Avengers tried to be friendly… at first. But Bucky’s coldness was a wall too high to climb. Tony didn’t help, of course. And Natasha just observed him in silence, as if she understood something none of you did.

You, though, decided to try something different.

It started with coffee. You’d see him some mornings, lingering at the edge of the kitchen like he was waiting for it to clear out. So you left a second mug beside yours and didn’t say anything.

Three days in, he took it.

“You always drink it black?” you asked, casual, not looking at him directly as you stirred sugar into your own.

He seemed caught off guard that you were speaking. His voice was low, cautious. “Yeah.”

You nodded, offering the faintest smile. “Strong choice. Bit intense, though.”

A pause. Then, with a hint of dry humor: “Fits the mood.”

You glanced over. Was that—did he almost smile?

From then on, mornings became a thing. Not every day, but enough. He didn’t always speak, but he stayed. Sat nearby. Drank the coffee you made.

It was the smallest crack in the ice, but it was something.

One morning, you found him sitting alone in the lounge, staring at the TV but not really watching it. You sat beside him without saying anything. Minutes passed. Then you felt his gaze on you. You looked over. He looked away.

But the next day, when you sat down, there was a second coffee already waiting on the table.

It was a small gesture. One that made you smile all day.

From then on, things started to take shape.

He’d invite you to go running with him and Steve. Sometimes you joined, sometimes you didn’t. But when you did, he always ran at your pace. Never said anything about it. He just did it. —“Don’t want you getting left behind,” he muttered once. That was the first day he spoke to you without you initiating.

Weeks passed. Then months. And somehow, it became a routine.

You and Bucky had breakfast together. You and Bucky watched movies together. He listened to your stories. You listened to his — though his were harder to tell. He didn’t always talk, but when he did, with you, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. The way he’d scowl when you laughed too long at one of Clint’s dumb jokes. Or how his posture changed when you were around other guys on the team—shoulders stiff, jaw set, eyes hard.

It all came to a head one evening during movie night.

You were sitting on the floor with Peter, both of you laughing over something dumb and animated—some inside joke, some meme he’d shown you. Bucky was behind you on the couch, watching.

Or rather, staring.

When you looked back at him, his expression was unreadable. But he didn’t say a word.

Later that night, as you were cleaning up in the kitchen, you felt him walk in. He hovered by the door, arms crossed.

“You and Peter,” he said, voice low. “You close?”

You looked over your shoulder, caught the tension in his stance. “We joke around. He’s like… a kid brother.”

He nodded slowly. Still not looking at you.

“Why?”

He hesitated. Then, after a beat: “Didn’t like the way he touched you.”

You blinked. “Touched me?”

“Your waist. Earlier.”

You leaned against the counter, folding your arms. “Are you jealous, Barnes?”

His eyes finally met yours. Tension flickered across his face. “Maybe.”

You weren’t expecting the honesty.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, just like that, he turned and walked out—leaving your heart beating too fast.

After that night, something shifted.

The kitchen felt emptier in the mornings. His coffee mug sat untouched where you always left it—like a placeholder for someone who didn’t plan on coming back. You sat at the counter longer than usual, hoping he’d walk in late. He never did.

Days passed, each one a quiet confirmation that he was pulling away.

He started disappearing from shared spaces. Left the room if you walked in, kept his head down during briefings, drifted through conversations without ever meeting your gaze. If it hurt, he didn’t show it. If he missed you, he buried it.

You tried to play it cool, texting once, then again. You okay? Did I do something? Talk to me.

Nothing. No read receipts. No response.

Eventually, you gave in and cornered Steve in the gym, catching him between sets, frustration laced into every word.

“He’s shutting me out. I didn’t do anything, Steve.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then let out a breath and shook his head slowly.

“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s him.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“He thinks he’s protecting you.”

You stared. “From what? Me?”

“From him,” Steve said gently. “From how much he cares.”

The words didn’t make sense until much later. But they stayed with you, settled heavy in your chest—until the weight of it pushed you into action.

You found him in the sparring room that night, alone with the bag. No music. No lights except for the dim overheads. The rhythmic thud of fists landing echoed in the still air, steady and relentless. He was soaked through, breathing hard, lost in whatever he was trying to outrun.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, letting the silence sit.

When it became clear he had no intention of acknowledging you, your voice broke the stillness.

“Are we really doing this?”

The hits didn’t stop.

“I mean, fine,” you continued, stepping further into the room. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Just keep pretending like the last few months didn’t happen.”

His pace faltered, then picked up again—harder, sharper.

You stopped a few feet away. “Is this your thing now? Run before anyone gets too close?”

Finally, the bag stilled. He stood still with both hands resting against the leather, his back rising and falling in uneven breaths. For a moment, you thought he might walk away again.

Then, quietly: “I told myself it wasn’t real.”

You blinked. “What?”

“This,” he said, turning toward you, eyes unreadable in the low light. “Us. Whatever we were becoming. I kept telling myself it wasn’t real because if it was... it’d be too much.”

Your voice softened. “Too much for who?”

His hands flexed at his sides, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “For me. For you. You shouldn’t have to deal with everything that comes with me.”

“You think I don’t know what I’m dealing with?” you asked, stepping closer. “You think I just stumbled into this by accident? I chose to be close to you.”

His eyes finally met yours, and for once, he didn’t look away.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “If I let this happen—if I let myself have this—and something goes wrong…”

“You’ll survive,” you said gently. “And so will I.”

He shook his head. “You don’t get it.”

“I do,” you said, and now you were right in front of him.

"I’m falling in love with you. And I can’t handle feeling something for someone who deserves so much better. I’m not good, Y/N. Not for you.”

Your heart stopped. For a second, you couldn’t breathe.

Then, without thinking, you stepped forward. “Who the hell are you to decide what I deserve?”

He blinked, thrown off.

“I… I didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.”

Silence fell.

The only sound was the swinging of a punching bag and the rapid pounding of both your hearts.

Then he moved.

One step. Then another. He raised a trembling hand, hesitant, like he was scared to touch you. You took it gently, guiding it to your cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes wide.

And then he kissed you.

His lips were clumsy at first, unsure. But you leaned in, slow and warm, molding yourself to him. His hands gripped your waist, desperate and grounding. Your fingers tangled in his shirt. It was like all the tension, all the months of longing and fear, exploded into that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you rested your forehead against his.

“Don’t you ever ignore me again,” you whispered, voice shaking.

He smiled. Small. Honest. “Never again.”

[firingstars]

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warnings. minors do not interact. all content on this blog is to be treated as 18+ as some fics can/will explore darker themes. reader discretion is advised. all works will include full warning lists prior to the story. as always, you are responsible for your own media consumption.

── .✦ SERIES

neighborly advice (complete, 45.9k words) bucky x reader your elderly next door neighbor moves out, only for someone... even older than him to appear in his place. ch. one | ch. two | ch. three | ch. four | ch. five ch. six | ch. seven | ch. eight | ch. nine | ch. ten

in this life (ongoing) bucky x reader "There's only one God, doll, and He's gonna bring me back to you." "I don't need God," you told him, fresh tears brimming over your eyes. "I just need you." ch. one | ch. two | ch. three | ch. four | ch. five ch. six | ch. seven

── .✦ SHORT STORIES

match made (12.7k words) congressman!bucky x matchmaker!reader as a politician, bucky can no longer be caught swiping around on dating apps. sam decides to sign up his romantically stunted friend for a more sophisticated service instead. locked in (15.2k words) congressman!bucky x matchmaker!reader — sequel to match made you and your boyfriend have been together for a strong nineteen months and counting. problem is, you’re starting to notice he’s hiding things from you.

── .✦ ONE-SHOTS

mission partners (14.9k words) avengers!bucky x avengers!reader you have no idea why bucky has a deep rooted hatred for you. you two are paired up for a mission, and you find yourself facing the demons of your past while having to deal with bucky's mood swings.

runaway (19.5k words) thunderbolts!bucky x mom!reader bucky comes face to face with his last living relative from his family tree, and it's an eight year old little girl running away from her adopted mom.

siren's song (10.9k words) avengers!bucky x avengers!reader bucky hears music through the vents of his room every single night, but the team refuses to tell him for his own protection. after all, they know the music is coming from you- a secret member of the team, who happens to be able to control minds.

love, persevering (11.5k words) bucky x agent!reader grief, trauma, and a broken heart is an unstable platform for a relationship to thrive on, and neither you nor bucky ever made it clear what your relationship actually was.

faded, but not forgotten (10.2k words) wintersoldier!bucky x blackwidow!reader chosen for a special hybrid program between the red room and hydra, you find yourself being trained by the winter soldier himself. you continue to watch as the numbers dwindle around you while the soldier seeks you out for help.

passion project (11.6k words) bucky x bestfriend!reader as bucky’s best friend, you had the honor of being subjected to his constant teasing and charms, none of which you thought were truthful. it all comes to a head when he starts distancing himself from you after a night out.

insatiable (10.7k words) steve&bucky x assistant!reader you're in charge of keeping the avengers schedule clean and functioning properly. what happens when two super soldiers divert from what their original plans are, and you walk in on them getting it on? now, they won't leave you alone.

hold on (even if it's fake) (12.5k words) new avengers!bucky x new avengers!reader public interaction with the new avengers has never been worse, and all of valentina's previous PR stunts have effectively failed, and only caused the team to become walking memes rather than heroes. in a last ditch effort to save face, valentina proposes a new plan: make the leader of the thunderbolts publicly date a member of the original avengers team.

── .✦ BLURBS

coming soon...

── .✦ currently working on... (but not in order) - secret dating trope - we're dating?? vs. we've been dating... - in this life ch. 8

i do not give consent for my work to be redistributed to other platforms to be translated, reposted, or re-worked by any means. i do not give consent for my work to be used in any form of ai training or learning. my blog tumblr blog firingstars is the only site that i post my work to at this time.

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[sergeantbarnessdoll]

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

[keithyp00]

▄︻デ══━一💥Tension Is A Loaded Gun

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: flirty banter, friendship with Sam, slow-burn tension, humor, light angst, found family, soft Bucky, teasing Sam, mentions of past trauma

(MDNI 18+): explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, "pussy drunk", vocal, dom/sub, multiple orgasms, aftercare

Word Count:4.1K

Author Note: Hi guys! Sorry I took a hiatus without telling you guys... But I'm back with another spicy one since the last one did so good. So I hope you guys enjoy and I'll try to be back to my normal posting schedule since school is almost over so fingers crossed :)

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

It was too damn hot for Delacroix.

You stood with a rag in one hand and a beer in the other, watching the Wilson family boat bob gently in the water like it had all the time in the world. Salt clung to the air, thick and heavy like the humidity. Your tank top stuck to your skin, damp with sweat and engine grease, and the smell of fish was less offensive now than it had been when you arrived three days ago.

"Hey!" Sam's voice carried from behind you, teasing. "You look like you're about to punch the boat."

"I'm considering it," you muttered, swiping your forearm over your brow. "This damn engine is older than I am."

"Yeah, well, she still works," Sam grinned, hopping onto the deck beside you with the grace of someone who did this whole life. "Unlike some people."

"You're hilarious," you deadpanned.

He held up a hand, placating. "Hey, I'm the one getting shown up by a boat."

You might've flipped him off if the sound of boots on the dock hadn't pulled your attention. Heavy. Familiar.

You didn't need to look up to know who it was.

James Buchanan Barnes.

The first time you met him, you'd been bleeding mission gone sideways, snapping at everyone who tried to help. Except him. He just stared you down, calm and unreadable, before grunting, "You got guts," and stitching you up himself with surgeon's precision.

That was six months ago.

Now, he was walking towards you with his sleeves rolled up, hair messy and short, and a gaze like a loaded weapon.

"Afternoon," he greeted, nodding to you. His voice was always rough, like it had to be dragged out of him.

"Bucky," you returned, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped.

You weren't sure when it started- maybe during a mission, maybe in a stolen glance, or the time he handed you a towel after a sparring match and his fingers lingered on your like he didn't want to let go. It didn't matter. It built. Quietly. Relentlessly.

And now every time he looked at you, it felt like your bones remembered him.

"Sam," Bucky added, glancing over.

"Barnes," Sam said back with a grin. "Come to supervise or get your hands dirty?"

"That depends," Bucky muttered. "On whether you're gonna keep flirting with the engine or let someone else take a crack."

You choked on your beer and coughed once, hard.

Bucky smirked.

You glanced at him sideways. "You trying to say I'm bad at this?"

"No," he said, stepping closer- close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, "Just saying maybe you need some backup."

"You offering?" You raised an eyebrow.

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

There was something dangerous about the way he looked at you, like he wanted to ruin something and was just waiting for your permission.

Sam groaned. "Alright, alright- if you two are gonna eye-fuck each other again, I'm getting the hell outta here."

You whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"Don't 'excuse me' me," he said, already walking away. "I've got two super soldiers trying to out-stubborn each other in 90 degree heat. I'm going to find a fan and some peace."

You turned back toward Bucky slowly, pulse drumming in your ears. He was closer now. Still watching you. Still smirking like he'd won something.

"Wasn't eye-fucking," you said softly, defensively.

"Could've fooled me," he replied, tone low. "You gonna let me help or not?"

You handed him the wrench wordlessly. He took it, brushing your fingers- deliberate, measured, testing.

The two of you worked in silence. You watched his muscles flex under the sun, veins prominent in his arms, and a thin sheen of sweat highlighting every line of him. You shouldn't have noticed. But you did. You always did.

By the time the boat sputtered back to life, it was late afternoon and your patience had frayed into something wild and taut. You turned to thank him- and didn't expect him to be standing so close.

"I can hear your heartbeat," he murmured.

You stilled. "So?"

"It's loud."

"So is yours."

His gaze dipped to your lips.

"I've been thinking about this for weeks," he admitted, voice rough. "How you smell like sweat and steel, and how your mouth tastes like beer when you've been working out in the sun."

"Bucky-"

"Tell me to stop."

You didn't.

Instead, you surged forward and kissed him like you'd been waiting since the first time he stitched you up. It was filthy. Desperate. His hands- one warm, one cold- gripped your hips like he was afraid that you'd vanish.

"Inside," you whispered against his mouth.

He obeyed instantly.

~~~~~

The door slammed shut behind you in Sam's guest room. You barely made it to the bed before Bucky was on you- pressing, growling, teeth grazing the skin of your throat like he'd die if he didn't taste you.

You gasped when he pushed your tank top up, lips dragging down your stomach.

"Fuck, Bucky-"

"I know," he muttered. "I know."

He kissed you like he needed you more than oxygen. And when he pulled your shorts off, his breath caught.

"You're soaked," he whispered. "Already?"

You bit back a sigh, back arching into his touch. "It's cause I've been thinking about you. Every damn night."

He groaned like it hurt him. "You're gonna kill me."

You slightly opened your legs. "Then die happy."

His mouth was on you before you could blink.

It was devastating.

Bucky licked you like he was starving- slow and deep, savoring every reaction like it was a drug. When his tongue circled your clit, your hips bucked up, and he held you down with that metal arm, groaning against you like he was drunk off the taste.

You moaned, breath hitching. "Jesus, Bucky-"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled, tongue sliding through your folds again. "Could eat you for hours."

Your hands found the short locks of his hair, gripping tightly on what you could. "Then do it."

He did.

Again.

And again.

He didn't stop until your legs were trembling around his shoulders and you were sobbing his name like a prayer. And even then, he kept licking- like he needed every drop of you, like nothing else in the world mattered.

"Fuck, doll-" he slurred, eyes glassy, lips slick and swollen. "You're gonna ruin me."

You pulled him up by his hair and kissed him filthy, tasting your slick on his tongue. "Then let me."

~~~~~

Your mouth was on his, and he moaned into the kiss like he'd already forgotten what air was. His lips moved hungrily against yours, slick with the taste of you, and you drank him in like he was the last thing left in a burning world.

He pulled back slightly, panting, eyes dazed and dark.

"You're-" he cut himself off, swallowing hard. "You're gonna be the death of me, doll."

"You keep saying that like it's a bad thing," you whispered, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He let you pull it off- arms raised, obedient, exposing thick muscle and scars and sweat-slick skin. The heat radiating off him was unbearable. Gorgeous. Alive. He looked like something carved from war and temptation.

"You're shaking," you murmured, brushing your hands across his chest.

His fingers caught your wrist gently, reverently. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Then show me," you breathed, arching your back to meet his skin.

His lips found yours again, but this time slower. More intense. Like he was memorizing the curve of your lips.

When he pulled away, he looked down at your body like he couldn't believe it was real.

"Lie back for me," he rasped. "I need to see you."

So, you did.

He dragged his metal fingers up your thigh, over your hip, your ribs, your breast. Every inch he touched felt branded. Worshipped.

"You're perfect," he murmured, voice breaking on the word like it physically hurt him to say it. "I've never wanted anything this bad."

Then he was between your legs again- but this time, his hand replaced his mouth. Two thick fingers slid into you, slow and deep, as his mouth returned to your breast, licking and sucking until you let out a gasp.

"Bucky-"

"Fuck, your pussy has me gone," he groaned, curling his fingers just right. "You feel so good. So fucking wet."

You whined, clawing at his back. "Please- please just-"

He pulled his fingers out and stared at the slick coating them, then sucked them into his mouth with a low groan that made you clench around nothing.

"I'm gonna fuck you now," he said, voice shaking. "And I'm not going to last long. Not after that."

"Then don't," you whispered, hooking your legs around his waist. "Just give it to me."

He lined up and pressed in slow, inch by inch, like he was trying to savor every second.

You both moaned at the stretch- thick and deep, perfect and maddening.

"Oh my God," you gasped. "You're so fucking big."

"You can take it," he panted, gripping your hips. "You're already taking it so well, fuck- look at you."

He bottomed out and stayed there, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

"I'm so deep in you," he whispered. "I can't think. I can't fucking breathe."

You kissed him- needy, messy, lost- and then he started to move.

It was pure filth.

Bucky fucked you like he'd waited years for it. Like he was trying to memorize how you sounded, how you tightened around him, how you begged when he hit just the right spot. The room echoed with skin and breath and the soft, desperate noises he pulled from you.

"I'm never gonna stop thinking about this," he groaned. "How tight you are, how wet. I'm losing my goddamn mind."

"You feel so good," you cried, nails dragging down his back. "You're so deep-"

He grabbed your legs and pushed them back, deeper now, harder, his eyes wild.

"This pussy's got me fucking drunk," he hissed, kissing your throat. "What the fuck are you doing to me?"

You whimpered, high and wrecked. "Then come for me, Bucky. Come inside me. Fill me up."

His rhythm faltered. He buried his face in your neck with a broken moan.

"Oh, fuck- fuck, I'm-"

He came with a groan that sounded like your name and something holy all at once. His hips stuttered, grinding against yours, keeping you full and trembling.

When he finally collapsed on top of you, both of you were shaking- wrecked, breathless, clinging to each other like you'd found something world dying for.

For a moment, all you could hear was the fan whirring overhead and the rush of your heart in your eyes.

Then quietly-

"I wasn't kidding," Bucky murmured, voice hoarse and full of awe. "You've ruined me."

You weakly stroked a hand through his hair. "Good."

~~~~~~

You didn't know how long you stayed like that- entwined, skin pressed to sweat-slick skin, hearts pounding against each other's chests. Every time you shifted beneath him, you felt the slow, sweet drag of him still inside you.

Bucky didn't move.

His face was buried against your neck, lips brushing your skin with every exhale. Like he couldn't stop touching you, even in rest. His metal arm curled under your back, pulling you close with a protectiveness so instinctive it made your heart ache.

Eventually, he lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze.

"You okay?" He murmured, eyes still hazy with the aftermath.

You smiled, thumb brushing sweat from his cheek. "More than okay."

Something flickered in his expression- relief, affection, something unspoken and too big for the space between words. His gaze dropped to your lips. Then lower.

He eased out of you slowly, almost reluctantly. You shivered at the loss, at the soft spill of him, and he kissed your temple like an apology.

"Let me take care of you," he said quietly.

You didn't answer- you just let him go.

Bucky disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he had a warmth cloth, a towel, and hands so gentle it nearly broke you. He cleaned you like you were something fragile. Like touching you too roughly would undo everything you'd just given him.

You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes.

No one had ever touched you like that.

Not like you were a body- but a gift.

After, he climbed back into bed, tugging you against his chest. His heartbeat was slower now, but not calm. Still wild beneath the surface.

Your fingers traced the lines of metal and scar along his arm, settling in the dip where synthetic met flesh.

"You always this intense?" You teased gently.

Bucky gave a hoarse laugh. "Not usually. You... you're different I guess."

You looked up. "Different how?"

He paused.

"I've had sex," he said slowly. "But I've never had this. I've never looked at someone and thought, God, if they asked me to stay forever, I'd do it."

Your breath caught. "Bucky-"

"I'm not saying it to scare you," he said quickly. "I just... I've never felt that hungry. That alive. Not even before the war."

You reached for his face and kissed him softly, slow and deep. Like a promise. Like thanks.

He rolled on top of you again, slower this time, cradling your jaw in your hand.

"Can I?" He asked, voice rough.

You nodded.

This time, he moved like he was making love to you. Like he needed to feel every inch of your skin, every breath, every tremble. The kind of slow that makes time dissolve. That leaves you wide open, aching, full of something deeper than just lust.

He held eye contact the whole time.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of this. Of you."

You cried out softly when he hit a deeper angle, legs wrapping around his torso.

He moaned- deep and low- and kissed you again.

No rush. No frenzy.

Just you and Bucky and the long, slow burn of something you could both drown in. When you came again, he held you through it, whispering your name like a prayer. He followed soon after, shaking, his face pressed to your shoulder, his body heavy with need and surrender.

When it was over, he stayed there, still inside you, breathing hard.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

You didn't need to.

He fell asleep with your fingers laced in his, his arm wrapped tight around your waist.

And when the sun rose over the city, Bucky was still there.

Still holding you like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

~~~~~

The first thing you felt was warmth.

Soft sunlight filtered through the window, casting golden lines across your bare skin. The sheets were twisted around your chest, warm and worn, and the smell of him- clean soap, sweat, and something deeply masculine- lingered on your body like he'd marked you.

Bucky was already awake.

He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you were a dream he didn't quite believe was real. His dark hair was messy, falling over his forehead. The stubble on his jaw looked more dangerous in the light.

But it was his eyes that made your breath hitch.

Soft. Reverent. A little dazed.

"Morning," you rasped, voice hoarse from sleep... and other things.

He smiled, small and crooked. "Hey."

You stretched, and he watched every inch of skin as it moved, the way the sheet shifted down your body to pool beneath your breasts. His tongue darted out, like he was physically stopping himself from kissing you again.

"You're staring," you teased.

He didn't even try to deny it.

"Can you blame me?" He murmured, hand drifting to your waist. "I woke up with you naked beside me, still warm and wrecked from last night."

You flushed, arousal stirring again far too easily. "You're not helping me recover."

"Who said I want you to?" His fingers traced circles on your skin. "I didn't sleep much. Kept waking up just to make sure this wasn't a dream."

You reached for him, pulling him down until his mouth brushed yours. "It wasn't."

He kissed you gently. Once. Then, again, slower.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked quietly against your lips.

Your heart ached at the way he asked it- so careful, so unguarded.

"No," you said, pulling him fully on top of you. "You made me feel... everything."

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in deep like he needed to ground himself.

"Good," he said. "Because I don't think I've ever wanted someone this much."

You smiled, thumbing over his bottom lip. "Prove it."

That was all it took.

Bucky rolled his hips into you, half-hard already, his body hungry in that slow, aching way that came from deep affection. From the thrill of knowing you could have more, again, forever.

But before it could go further-

Knock knock knock.

"Hey!" Sam's voice cut through the room like a blade. "You decent or do I need to bleach my eyes out?!"

You both froze.

Bucky let out a groan so deep it could've shaken the bed frame. He buried his face in your chest like it might erase reality.

You bit back a laugh. "You didn't tell him?"

"I told him I was crashing here," Bucky muttered into your skin. "I didn't tell him I was doing it naked with the woman he told me not to flirt with."

You raised an eyebrow. "He told you that?"

"Oh yeah. First week I met you, actually."

"Was that before or after you imagined my legs over your shoulders?"

Bucky gave you a look. "Before."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "You're so dead."

"Only if he hears you moaning my name again." He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing, smug. "Though if he busts in, we could just show him what he's missing."

"BUCKY!"

"What? I'm kidding. Mostly."

You grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, giggling.

From the hallway, Sam shouted, "If you two don't open up, I'll call Shuri!"

That sobered Bucky immediately. "Oh my god, get dressed."

You were both still laughing as you scrambled to throw on clothes, Bucky kissing your shoulder every few seconds, unable to stop touching you even in the rush. He looked happier than you'd ever seen him- wild-haired, grinning, flushed with affection.

As you pulled on your shirt, he stopped you.

"Wait."

You turned, breath catching at the softness in his gaze.

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

"I meant what I said," he muttered. "About staying."

You smiled. "So stay."

~~~~~

"So." Sam sipped his orange juice slowly, eyes flicking between you and Bucky over the rim of his glass. "Either you both got laid last night or one of you suddenly discovered how to smile."

Bucky didn't even flinch. He just cut into his stack of pancakes like Sam hadn't just called him out in the middle of a bustling cafe. You tried to hide your grin behind your coffee.

"We slept fine," you said, the most noncommittal answer possible.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Uh huh. And I'm Steve Rodgers."

Bucky's mouth quirked.

You gently kicked his shin under the table. Don't.

He kicked back. What? I didn't say anything.

But you could see it all over his face- how different he looked this morning. Relaxed. Confident. Still riding the high of having you fall apart under him twice. His hand rested on your thigh under the table, completely unapologetic.

Sam caught the way you shifted in your seat and raised an eyebrow. "You good?"

"Great," you said, supping your coffee.

Bucky smirked wider and you shot him a glare.

Sam leaned back. "Well, I hope you stretched first. She's flexible, but if you throw your back out again, I'm not taking you to physical therapy."

You choked on your drink.

Bucky, the bastard that he was, didn't even blink. "Appreciate your concern."

It was a miracle you made it through the meal without combusting.

But it didn't end there.

Under the table, Bucky's thumb traced slow circles on the inside of your thigh. Every time you spoke, every time you laughed at something Sam said, his fingers crept a little higher. Teasing. Possessive.

You leaned into him when Sam got up to grab more napkins.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

Bucky tilted his head, voice a soft purr against your ear. "Trying to remind you that I'm still thinking about last night. About how wet you were. How you were begging."

You inhaled sharply.

"If you keep touching me," you said, voice low, "I'm going to drag you into that bathroom and ride you until you forget your name."

His pupils dilated so fast you saw it happen.

"Be right back," Bucky said suddenly, standing so quickly his chair scraped the floor.

You blinked, stunned. "Wait-"

He grabbed your wrist as he passed.

"Bathroom. Now."

~~~~~

You barely got the door locked before he had you pressed against it, mouth on your throat, hands already under your shirt.

"This is insane," you gasped, fumbling at his belt.

"Uh-huh," Bucky agreed, dragging his hand up your thigh. "I need you, sweetheart."

You didn't even try to argue.

He lifted you effortlessly, one hand on your ass, the other steadying you as he lined up and slid inside in one deep, slick stroke. You moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you again- so thick, so perfect, so Bucky.

"God, I missed this already," he growled, thrusting up into you. "Missed being inside you. You feel so- Fuck- so good, doll."

You clung to him, your body already trembling.

It was fast. Desperate. Raw.

You came around him with a rush, gasping into his shoulder, and Bucky followed with a strangled groan, spilling inside you with a shudder.

Afterward, he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard.

"We're so bad at brunch," you whispered.

"Worth it."

~~~~~

Back at the table, Sam returned to find your seats empty. He looked around and sighed.

Then texted you:

Both of you hydrate. You're not very subtle, you know. Unbelievable.

You never lived it down.

But judging by the way Bucky kissed you hand under the table when you returned- and the stupid grin that wouldn't leave your face- you wouldn't have changed a thing.

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

[happypopcornprincess]

Under the Same Sky Part 2

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.2K

Warnings: Gore, blood, SMUT, minors DNI

a/n - I'm sorry for being late about the second part, a relative of mine passed away after new year and I was with family. This part is dedicated to all the lover girls by heart out there. may you find your lover and have an amazing story. Hope you guys like it <3 Take care.

The wind picked up speed as Lucas and his team stepped on the backyard of the Wilson Residence. Guns drawn, stance ready, they took the steps to the back entrance.

Nadia and Artie moved in first, Matt in tow and Lucas in the end. They hear not a single sound around them. Matt signaled clear after checking the rooms and the kitchen, Nadia let her shoulders relax watching him sign.

“Where are they?” Artie whispered.

The radio in the kitchen turns on its own accord…

Can't stay at home, can't stay at school

Old folks say, "Ya poor little fool"

Down the streets I'm the girl next door

I'm the fox you've been waiting for!

Lucas shoots the radio; the broken device fell to the floor with a thud. A scratched-out sound of Cherry Bomb still playing on.

“That’s a shame…”

Nadia was too slow to turn before you hit her head with the butt of your Glock, “I love that song.”

Artie fell on the floor as Joaquin kicked him in the back, you advanced towards Matt. The first thing that bastard did was to kick off the floor and punch you square in the jaw, but you duck in record time, just to kick his feet off the ground and lose your Glock in the process.

Joaquin got busy with Artie and Lucas, who had teamed up to defeat him. Lucas ducked a kick on his chest, and Artie tried to stab him in the neck. Joaquin got a knife out of his belt and fought with all his might, after throwing Lucas on the kitchen table.

Matt was twice your size, he got up in no time trying to throw you off your feet but you were smarter than that, you ran on the wall, kicking off it and using the velocity to climb his shoulders. You pull a hidden wire from your wrist, falling back and choking him in the process. Matt fought hard to get a hold of you, but you pressed on harder. His movements slowed down, and eventually he stilled as you released the wire.

Joaquin was pinned down on the ground with Artie on top of him, his blade inches away from his windpipe. Joaquin pushed hard on his end of blade, trying to nick off his collarbone. Lucas came rushing towards them now recovered from being thrown on the table… Joaquin threw off all his strength to turn his entire body sideways, which in turn put Artie on the side, giving him a chance to stab him just where his neck met his shoulder.

You got up to rush to Lucas, but fell face first feeling a stronghold on your ankle. Turning, you meet a very pissed off looking Nadia with blood covering her face.

She held a Glock, your glock, aiming at you. You kick her in the face, grabbing your knife in the holster. You sit up to stab her in the back, just an inch away from her heart.

So why was it that you felt a sharp jab on your shoulder?

You look at the source, only to see a blade sticking out of your right shoulder. Nadia’s hand being the holder. She looked you right in the eye as she twisted the blade deeper. You grunt, stabbing the woman again and again until she stopped.

Unbearable pain clouded your senses, but Joaquin’s voice brought you back to your senses, turning towards him to see him spar with Lucas, taking punches and pulling ones. You got on your knees to snatch your Glock from Nadia’s dead fingers, keeping an eye on Joaquin.

Blood ran down his elbow from his palm, he staggered on his feet trying to get a jab at Lucas, but found himself covered in his brains once you shot Lucas in the forehead.

You sighed, feeling your tank top getting wet with blood. It felt like an out of body experience, Natasha’s voice echoing somewhere inside your head; “Your brain is in shock trying to process the pain. Get the blade out, press on a cloth and get the hell out of here before one of them wakes up.”

“y/n, look at me.” Joaquin grabbed your face, making you look at him. He glanced at the knife sticking out of your body. “This might hurt.” Saying so he pulled on the blade, prying it off.

You screamed out loud as he pressed hard on your shoulder with a cloth bandage.

How are you lying on the floor?

Joaquin lifted you up like you weighed nothing, “We gotta go. Come on…” resting your head on his shoulder, you try not to pass out looking at the blood running down his face.

------------------------------

Seeing double with an open stab wound was never good news. Joaquin’s jacket did enough to hide the blood and bandage on your shoulder, but it was only a matter of time until some keen observer in the hotel lobby looked at you long enough to know you were unwell.

Leaning on the wall next to you, you watched as Joaquin came towards you and wrapped his arm over your shoulder, careful of your wound, he whispers, “you alright?”

“Kinda.” Your words came out slurred.

“Let’s go.” He led you towards your room, and despite knowing there was no chance of you being followed, you still looked over your shoulder.

As soon as the door opened, you limped towards the bed and Joaquin closed the door and the blinds. Taking off your jacket, you made the rookie mistake of taking a glance at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was unkempt, your tank top’s strap was torn to pieces, the entire right side of your body covered in blood. The open wound right under your collarbone stared back at you through the mirror.

The room suddenly felt too small, the taste of metal heavy on your tongue.

“whoa!” Joaquin grabs your left side before you fall to the floor, his eyes find yours, and it is then you see the hidden fear in his eyes. He acted fine until now, witnessing the amount of damage on your body.

He helps you sit on the bed, and lean back on the headboard while pressing his jacket on your torso before tearing off your straps. Holding out a piece of rolled up fabric, he holds out to your mouth, “you’ll need this.” You’ve been through this before, never on this scale; but you don’t argue with him before biting into it.

The last thing you felt before blacking out was the burning sensation of rubbing alcohol on your skin and Joaquin’s hand holding yours.

----------------------------

The smell of spirit lingered in the air, as you were woken up from deep sleep by a gentle voice. Opening your eyes, you see the bedside digital clock showing 02:18, and your eyes travel to Joaquin sitting on a chair next to the bed. His white vest had spots of blood, your blood, on it. His right hand was bandaged poorly, and the cut above his eyebrow had two butterfly tapes.

“You scared me for a while.” He says while gently caressing your forehead.

“What happened?” you groaned, trying to sit up, he placed a pillow behind you as you leaned back on the headboard. You look down at your body to find your tank top gone, and you wore Joaquin’s Air Force T Shirt. You look at him again to see his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his eyes heavy. He hadn’t slept the entire night.

“You passed out while I was cleaning your wound, I woke you up to give you some medicines, and you fell asleep.”

“I don’t remember that.” You huffed out, looking at the ceiling.

Joaquin holds your hand, and you feel the rough bandage on your skin, “are you alright?” you look at him and his line of vision, which were trained on your hand.

“yeah.” You sit up straighter, and take his hand in yours, “I’m fine Joaquin, hey,” you gently hold his face that makes him look at you, “I promise.” You smile.

You rest his injured hand on your lap and open the bandage to redo it properly. The next few minutes are spent in silence, the occasional honk and sound of passing vehicles outside being the only noise. You take a proper look at his hand after you’re done, and you bring it to your lips to kiss.

Joaquin inhales sharply as your lips touch his fingers, and your eyes lock on his.

“I thought I would lose you today.” He says, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

“I ain’t going anywhere Joaquin. I’m right here.” Your voice came out as a whisper, and he held your face in his hands.

He looks into your eyes again, silently asking for your consent, and your reply wordlessly by leaning towards him.

The kiss was gentle.

Joaquin’s lips were featherlight on yours and you closed your eyes to feel him whole. Holding the back of his neck you brought him closer as you fell back on the headboard, and he climbed the bed to hover over you.

You kiss each other slowly, letting go of the fear of losing each other flow through it.

You savor it; the warmth of his body, his breath on your face, his hands on your waist. He continues to kiss you as his hands traveled your body, and you didn’t open your eyes in fear that it was some kind of dream. 

He cautiously pulls you down on the mattress, your back meeting the sheets of your motel bed. Joaquin gets on his knees to take off his vest, tossing it on the floor. Your eyes couldn’t leave his toned torso, and his broad shoulders covered you entirely when he leaned forward, trailing kisses on your neck. The contrast in the touch of both his hands; one bandaged and one not… you closed your eyes yet again to just feel his touch on your skin. You couldn’t breathe by the way he bit your neck, and you arched your back as his hands gathered the t-shirt to roll it up to your ribs.

“We can stop if you want to.” He says in between kisses, and you moan, “no, please… don’t.”

“As you wish…” he says, his breath hot on your neck. He kissed you right in the valley of your breasts, and sucked on your skin.

You locked eyes with him as he carefully removed the t-shirt off of your body, leaving you in only your jeans. You grabbed a fistful of his hair as his lips left open mouthed kisses on your nipples, you heard him moan as he squeezed your breasts, a sound that made you pull on his hair harder, which only made him louder.

Joaquin made quick work on his belt as you quickly removed your jeans, but he clutched your hand halfway, “wait…” stumbling on his words, “uh… you’re hurt… let me…” he held your jeans and you let them go, as he pulled them down your legs and on the floor.

His hands caressed your thighs, and his gaze lingered on your body. The intensity of it made you shiver, but it wasn’t lust you saw in them.

He wanted you, needed you. Recalling the kiss that you shared earlier today; this was the complete opposite of it. This was pure adoration. 

You were his reverence.

While the shadow of his tousled hair masked his forehead, he locked eyes with you. As he lowered his body bringing his face closer to your thighs, you didn’t dare look away. You arched your back as Joaquin’s arms held you down, his muscles flexing as he kissed your inner thigh, and a loud whine left your lips as he tasted you on his tongue. 

He stopped only when your moans turned into screams, and when you looked at him while heaving for breath, he was gasping for air, his pupils blown, but the gaze still gentle.

You locked your legs on his waist before you could stop yourself, and tossed him on the bed. Now he was under you, and you could feel how eager he was as you looked down at his tented boxers.

Joaquin caressed your waist, “take it easy, y/n.” as he shifted his gaze to your injured shoulder.

“Sure.” you breathed out, heart racing, as you lifted yourself up while he removed his boxers. As soon as you touched him to stroke, he fell back on the bed, his brows knit in pleasure. You laughed; watching how he was reacting to your touch.

“Huh… that wasn’t funny, querida.” he huffed, and you gasped as he grabbed your waist to pull himself up.

Joaquin was now inches away from your face, his chest pressed to yours as he locked his arms around your waist. You tried to wrap yours around his neck, but you hissed as a sharp pain shot through your injured shoulder straight to your neck.

“Ow!” you buried your face on the nape of his neck, as he stiffened within you.

“Told you to take it easy.” he whispered as he caressed your hair, “you wanna stop?”

“No,” you whined, lifting your face to look at him, “no… I…” you huffed out, “I want you.”

He exhaled, replying with a warm smile, “okay.”

Joaquin gently held both of your wrists and brought your hands to his face to let you hold on to his neck, and you gladly did. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and closed his eyes before leaving a kiss on your lips. He pulled you closer as you lowered yourself on him, moaning in each other’s mouths. As you moved, he kept on kissing you. 

Your pace increased as you felt his heartbeat on your skin, his hands grabbing your back. He kissed your face as you lifted your chin, leaving trails on your face and reaching your neck, but you grabbed his hair, pulling him back and exposing his neck to you. Sucking on his neck, you hugged him back, the sharp jab on your shoulder now least of your worries. He pushed into you as you continued to suck and bite his skin wherever you could. He tried his best not to pull your hair, but failed as he grabbed a handful by the end only to bring you closer.

Fighting for air, you kissed him on his mouth… stroking him even after he came inside you.

Joaquin fell back on the bed, bringing you into his arms; exhausted, spent, the two of you fighting for breath. 

You shifted to your uninjured side and you held him while resting your head on his chest; groaning, he adjusted himself so you could lay your head in his arms and stroked your hair,

Both you and Joaquin couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. He was a sight to behold—his unruly hair sticking to his forehead, his face flushed, and the marks you left on his skin gradually shifting in color.

“You good?” he whispers, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your bare back.

“Yeah. You?” you murmur, feeling the weight of sleep beginning to settle in.

A chuckle bubbles in his throat, and you can't help but smirk when he slaps a hand over his eyes, letting out a soft laugh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you tease, poking his cheek.

“You are…” he sighs, his voice serious but amused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really skilled with what you did earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a giggle. “You mean the way I body-slammed a Flag Smasher? Or are you talking about…”

“Uh…” He glances up at the ceiling, and you swear you see him blush. “Both.”

You both burst into laughter, and he pulls the covers over you, tucking you close to him. As your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat when his fingers trail over your bare back once more.

“Can’t we stay like this forever?” he asks, his voice soft. “This feels like a dream.”

“It’s real.” You reach up, your fingers gently brushing the cut over his eye. “And even if it is a dream, it’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

His gaze softens at your words, and with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he confesses, “Stay right here, will you?”

You nod, your voice a quiet whisper. “Yes.”

And with that, you slip into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

--------------------------------

Three Weeks Later, Wilson Residence

Karli was dead, the Flag Smashers were wiped out in a mysterious blast (which Zemo swore he had no part in), and John Walker had vanished off the radar. Sam was now Captain America. You and Joaquin had managed to sit that one out due to injuries, and life—relatively speaking—was almost back to normal.

The last three weeks had been the most peaceful stretch you’d had since the Thanos attack in New York. After a brief visit to Sarah’s newly renovated house—where Sam had to fight you off when you offered to pay for everything—you and Joaquin were finally heading to Arizona. He was finally going to take you to see the Canyons, a promise he’d made all the way back in that attic you two had shared.

It was night now, the kids were asleep, but the dinner table in the Wilson residence was anything but quiet, as Sam and Bucky were recounting the first time they met Spiderman.

“…and we got this kid climbing on the roof, he slams Bucky onto the floor, and screams out something about impressing Tony…”

“…and then he webs you to the escalator…” Bucky grumbles in-between.

“…I was getting to that! Anyways, I let redwing take care of the rest and send him flying through the airport and dump him midair. Ha!” Sam laughs, waiting for a reaction.

Sarah leans forward, utterly bewildered, “So you dropped a kid midair because he webbed you to an escalator?”

Bucky stops her with a laugh, “In our defense, he was on the opposite team!”

You couldn't help teasing him, “Still, you attacked a kid.”

Sam threw a baby carrot at you. “Okay, okay! Stop throwing food, Sam. What are you, five?”

Sam was about to throw another one at youtube bucky grabbed the baby carrots bowl and passed it to sarah, who gladly put it out of his reach.

You shifted your attention to Joaquin, who was looking at the whole ordeal trying not to laugh. The cut above his eye had almost healed, only a faint trail of new skin the only sign that there ever was any injury. 

“We have something to tell you guys,” Joaquin said, his voice a little too casual for the tension in the air. He reached under the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You squeezed his hand in return, giving him a warm smile before you turned to look at Sam, Bucky, and Sarah.

Joaquin looked at you, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, and then he said it: “Y/N and I are dating.”

The table went silent for a second, and then Sarah’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you both!”

Sam laughed loudly, throwing his head back, while Bucky froze, fork halfway to his mouth.

Bucky stared at the two of you in disbelief, his fork clicking loudly as it dropped to his plate. “Wait a minute... how long has this been going on?”

You winced. “About three weeks, maybe?”

Bucky groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “Three weeks? So, you’ve been hiding this from us?”

Joaquin shifted nervously in his seat. “Yeah, about that.”

“I swear, if you hurt Y/N—” Bucky's voice turned deadly serious, his Vibranium arm rising as he pointed it at Joaquin. “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Joaquin quickly held up his hands. “I would never—”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, satisfied. “Just making sure, You two gross me out.” Bucky side eyes you as you respond by leaving a loud smooch on Joaquin’s cheek.

“Yeah, I’m gonna throw up.” Bucky grimaces and gets up from the table with his beer.

“Get outta here old man.” You scream, all in playfulness as he slams the porch door. Bucky had a knick of theatrics, and you knew deep down he was happy for you.

“He didn’t mean that, Buck’s a secret romantic and I bet you ten bucks he’s crying happy tears on the back porch.” Sam tells you both as you begin to clear out the table.

“I know.” You laugh, helping Joaquin with the dishes.

As Sarah and Sam left for their rooms, you and Joaquin took over cleaning the kitchen. The house fell into a quiet rhythm, the only sound the soft hum of the water running in the sink as you both washed the dishes.

“That went well,” Joaquin said, nudging your shoulder as you stacked the plates in the drying rack.

“Don’t worry, Sam and Sarah adore you. Bucky does too, he’s just... well, too stubborn to show it.” You rolled your eyes, feeling his hands wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you close.

He kissed your neck lightly as you finished stacking the last of the plates. “That was the last one,” you said, leaning back into him, letting yourself enjoy the closeness.

“Mmm-hmm...” You smirked, resting your hands on his as he tightened his grip around your waist.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear.

“I know,” you murmured, leaning back further into his chest. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his breath soft in your ear.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” he grumbled, his voice low and inviting as he hugged you tighter.

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder. “We’re sleeping on the couch, babe.”

His hands moved slowly to your hips as he nuzzled your neck, “Wanna take this to the couch then?” His playful tone was backed by the softest puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

Before you could even consider it, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Bucky’s voice rocked through the silence, causing both you and Joaquin to spring apart. You quickly went back to acting busy with the already stacked plates, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Bucky sighed loudly, his eyes toward the ceiling. “Please, for the love of god, tell me you two weren’t... doing that in Sarah’s kitchen.”

Joaquin let out a nervous, “...no.” His face flushed, making you stifle a laugh.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “I swear, you two...”

“Bucky,” you said, turning toward him with a teasing smile. “Were you crying?”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately shot you a glare. “No. I’m just... tired.” He slumped his shoulders dramatically. “And I’m taking the couch.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “You two can take the mattress on the floor. But if I hear so much as a whisper from either of you, I’ll kick you out myself.”

With that, he stormed off, muttering under his breath.

You turned to Joaquin, fighting back a grin. His face was bright red, and his embarrassment was almost too adorable to handle. “Looks like we have to wait until we’re in Arizona,” you said with a sympathetic swat to his arm.

Joaquin groaned, “You know, I’m starting to think Bucky’s secretly shipping us.”

You shot him a wink as you walked out of the kitchen, “He’s just really protective. Come on.”

You patted his arm sympathetically, but then, with a mischievous grin, said, “What about the attic?”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”

You opened your mouth to say yes, as your heart raced just by remembering his touch on your skin, but before you could, Bucky’s voice shouted from the other room.

“I swear to god, I will get a restraining order against the two of you! Don’t even think about it!”

--------------------------------------

Taglist

@tuiccim @parkjammys @akinrawsx @asteph22 @iamthebeth  @thefandomqueenuno @onlyhereforthefics @yikesdameron  @savedfanfics1992 @amigaytho @samwilson-mylove @jenniweaslee-faves @anna-phora @fluffyprettykitty

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

[shortnspidey]

COLLATERAL HEARTS

Bucky Barnes x Female!Stark!reader

SUMMARY: Bucky Barnes finds himself at the center of a political storm. Haunted by his past as the Winter Soldier, he is pursued by both friends and newfound enemies, unsure of who he can trust. Amidst this turmoil, he encounters someone who approaches him with a genuine sense of empathy. Unlike others who see him as a threat, she sees the person behind the trauma. The internal struggle between his desire for connection and his fear of causing harm adds to the anguish he feels daily, making every interaction a bittersweet reminder of the man he wants to be versus the man he fears he still is.

WARNINGS: Cursing, heavy angst, typical Marvel theme violence, some talks of blood and gore, self-deprecating thoughts, Tony's a shitty father (at the beginning), talks of emotional trauma & anxiety, HYDRA, strangers to friends to lovers, character deaths, trauma bonding, eventual smut!

A/N: Bucky Barnes deserves the world, marvel needs to leave him alone! So here’s my take on his happy ending! Beautiful divider graphics by @sister-lucifer <3

SERIES CHAPTERS:

(Status: Completed)

🦾 chapter one: echoes of the past

🦾 chapter two: lines drawn

🦾 chapter three: fractured bonds

🦾 chapter four: unshackled

🦾 chapter five: sanctuary

🦾 chapter six: grafting hope

🦾 chapter seven: one last stand

🦾 chapter eight: the endgame

BONUS CHAPTERS:

(read in chronological order for the best experience)

🦾 busted

🦾 busy woman

🦾 weight of the shield

🦾 the void

🦾 protector by default

🦾 juno (18+)

[nostarfights]

If I Ever Were To Lose You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X fem!supersoldier!Reader

Summary: Seeing you get injured during a mission helps Bucky come to terms with his feelings for you.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, reader getting injured, blood, a concussion, stitches, a coma, guns, crying, kissing, friends to lovers trope, takes place during tfatws and a few uses of y/n.

Word Count: 2.4K

a/n: ngl this is a little cringe but i hope y’all like it anyway lol

the photo below does not belong to me

Your breathing was quick but quiet as you and Bucky entered the warehouse Redwing had spotted Walker hiding in just a few hours ago, your hand placed on the gun holster on your hip, ready to grab your gun the second you needed it.

But even with Bucky there by your side and Sam waiting nearby just in case, you still had a bad feeling about this mission. Like something was going to go wrong, especially now that Walker was stronger due to the serum.

Your heart pounded more and more the closer you got to where Walker had been spotted hiding behind a pillar within the building. “Walker, we know you’re here. Just come with us and no one has to get hurt.” Bucky called out as you slowly withdrew your gun from its holster.

You’d given Walker enough chances to surrender, there was no point in trying to negotiate with him anymore. But Walker wasn’t in the mood for surrendering and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Not feeling the need to reply to Bucky, Walker left his hiding spot and headed right for Bucky. He then barreled into him with enough force to cause him to stumble back a few feet, using that chance to send punch after punch into Bucky’s face while he tried to regain his footing. It was shocking to you in this moment to see just how strong Walker had become, you’d never seen any enemy catch Bucky off guard like this for as long as you’d known him. 

But you weren’t going to just stand by and watch. So you quickly slid your gun back into its holster and ran over to where the two of them were fighting, immediately pulling Walker off of Bucky. “Give up, Walker. It’s over.” you sternly said through clenched teeth while you shoved him to the ground then cuffed his hands together.

And as you stood up and walked over to Bucky to make sure he was okay, you thought that you’d been right. That this long fight with Walker was over and you could finally put him away, but he soon proved you wrong. 

“You okay?” you’d started to say to Bucky as the sound of the cuffs breaking apart rang out, cutting you off as you both whipped your heads in Walker’s direction. He’d broken out of the cuffs and was now back on his feet, ready to fight again. But before he could get the chance to swing, you were on him again, sending punch after punch of your own into his face and body, knocking him back onto the ground. He stayed there for a minute, giving himself the chance to recover once more and in a blink of an eye he was back on his feet yet again. 

To see how much stronger he was currently compared to you and Bucky terrified you, would this fight ever end? “(y/n), watch out!” Bucky warned as Walker barreled towards you this time. He’d tried to stop Walker but it was too late and when his fist made contact with your chest, your body went flying for a few seconds before you hit the ground, your head roughly smacking against the concrete floor below you once you landed. 

And before you could even get the chance to get back up, Walker had pinned you to the ground by your shoulders and slid the knife he’d been hiding in his boot into your right side, causing you to scream out in pain. It’d be a lot easier for him to get away again if Bucky was distracted by your injuries.

In this moment, you couldn’t move even as Walker eased up on his grip on you, you were paralyzed with fear and pain and Bucky just watched, like a deer frozen in headlights. He’d never frozen up like this ever before and that scared him.

But before another thought could pop into his head, Bucky got a good look at you and began to feel as if he was seeing red. He was done going easy on Walker, he needed to pay for what he’d done. Bucky then placed his hands on Walker’s shoulders and ripped him off of you, giving him one final punch to the face that finally knocked him out, letting his now unconscious body fall to the floor below.

Bucky then rushed to your side right away and started to hold you in his bruised arms. You began to grow heavy as you laid there in Bucky’s arms, the handkerchief he’d retrieved from his pocket moments ago barely doing anything to stop or at least slow down your bleeding. It was no use.

“Stay with me, baby. Keep your eyes open for me please.” he begged as his voice broke, tears streaming down his face. “Bucky?” you weakly said as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time today and your blood began to stain the concrete. 

“No!” he screamed, his voice bouncing off of the walls of the nearly empty warehouse. Bucky quickly checked your heartbeat in the midst of his crying as he’d started to talk to Sam through the comms, it was shallow but still there. “Sam, we need help. (y/n)’s been stabbed, it’s not looking too good.” he quickly said, trying to hide the fact that he was crying. 

Upon his quick arrival just a few minutes later, Bucky gently scooped your limp body off of the ground and handed you over to Sam. “What the hell happened?” Sam muttered whilst a shock look took over his face and he took you from Bucky.

“I’ll tell you another time, just please, get her to the hospital. Promise me that you’ll keep her safe.” Bucky begged as Sam’s wings began to extend, his eyes bright red and his face covered in tears. “You have my word.” Sam said before he started to fly away, going as fast as his wings could possibly go before it was too late. 

Bucky wanted more than anything else in the world to go with you and Sam but he knew that it’d be for the best to have Sam take you to the hospital, even if it broke his heart to let you go while he went back to the tower alone, still sobbing. 

—-------------------------------------------

As soon as he made it back to the tower, Bucky felt himself sprinting to the part of the building that Tony had turned into a hospital years ago as if his body was on autopilot. All that mattered to him in this moment was making sure that you were okay. He’d become so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that he’d made it to the hospital and almost ran into a sad looking Sam who had just finished speaking with your doctor. 

“Bucky.” Sam softly said, immediately catching his attention as Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going any further. Bucky’s eyes teared up once more as he looked at his friend, “She’s going to be okay,” Sam started, pausing for a moment as he took a breath then began to deliver the bad news to Bucky, who currently felt like he could finally breathe again since you passed out, “But because of how hard her head hit the ground, the concussion she got caused her to fall into a coma. The doctor doesn’t know when she’ll wake up, it could be days or weeks.” Sam explained, trying his best to be strong for you and Bucky. 

Bucky’s heart dropped and even though he knew you were going to be okay, he was still riddled with fear and worry. He felt like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. He’d come so close to losing you and the fact that you were in a coma broke his heart.

As he continued to process everything he’d just been told, a wave of sadness hit him and Bucky collapsed into Sam’s arms while sobs violently shook his body. He wished he could’ve been better at protecting you. He could’ve prevented this but instead he froze up and let it happen, like an idiot. 

Sam helped Bucky back onto his feet, supporting him while he walked him to your room, tears pouring down his own face. It’d been years since he had seen Bucky this broken and he desperately hoped, for Bucky’s sake, that you’d pull through.

Once they made it into your room, Bucky could barely stand the second his eyes landed on your sleeping form, your skin was paler and there were bruises scattered across your arms and face, breaking Bucky’s heart even more. The emotional pain he was feeling as a result of today’s events had become too much. But before he could collapse again, Sam quickly pulled up a chair to your bedside and helped Bucky sit down. 

“I’m here for you if you need anything, Buck. Stay as long as you need.” Sam told Bucky as he stood next to him and Bucky quickly became a shell of a man the longer he stared at you. “Thanks.” Bucky quietly said through his tears and Sam started to leave the room, closing the door behind him to give the two of you some privacy. 

Bucky was silent as he began to hold your hand in both of his and pressed his forehead to it as he closed his eyes. He felt so guilty, he had always vowed to himself to protect you and he failed, he hoped you'd forgive him once you woke up.

And as he sat there with you, seeing you almost die finally made him see that he was in love with you and that was okay. He promised himself that he wouldn’t bury his feelings for you ever again. Life was too short for him to continue hiding the fact that he loved you more than anyone else. 

“Come back to me, baby. I love you.” he muttered against your skin. 

—-------------------------------------------

One Week Later

As you woke up, you began to feel confused and disoriented while you opened your eyes for the first time in seven days and the bright light above you in your hospital room caused your head to start to hurt.

“Where am I? Why does my hand feel so heavy?” you thought as you slowly looked around the room and you began to squint your eyes. A soft smile appeared on your face as you looked to your left and saw Bucky sitting next to your bed, his head resting on your joined hands while he slept. 

“Bucky?” you quietly said, still squinting due to the light. He looked tired, pale and there were bags under his eyes. You wondered how long he’d been there. He awoke abruptly, the sound of your voice calming him. You were okay, you’d come back to him. He could finally breathe again. “(y/n)!” he exclaimed as he began to gently hug you and tears welled up in his eyes.

“How long was I out for?” you quietly asked him as you looked into his tired eyes, the sight of this making you frown. “A week,” he told you, pausing before he spoke up again a moment later, “I missed you so much. I’ve been so worried but I’m glad you’re okay,” he continued before silence soon took over the room, “I’m so sorry this happened and that I wasn’t able to stop Walker.” he confessed as a few tears fell down his face, showing you just how guilty he’d been feeling for the past week.

Your frown became deeper as you reached up and wiped Bucky’s tears away, “Bucky, you have nothing to apologize for. I can handle myself.” you told him as he placed his hand over yours. Bucky let out a deep breath as he opened his mouth to speak, “I know,” he began as he nodded his head, “I’m just always terrified that I’m going to lose you every time we go on a mission. And even though I knew you were okay, seeing you like this broke my heart. I haven’t been able to leave your side this entire time.” he explained, prompting you to hold his hand and stroke the back of it with your thumb. “I’m okay, stop worrying.” you quietly said, making Bucky smile a little.  

Silence took over the room for the second time that day as both of your minds began to run rampant and you processed everything that had been said as well as the things Bucky had wanted to say. “I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I just wish I could've had the confidence to tell you before all of this happened.” Bucky simply said as he looked over into your eyes, his heart on his sleeve.

Hearing him say this caused your face to break out into a smile, you’d been waiting for what like forever to hear these words leave his mouth. “I love you too, James, I always have. I’ve just been waiting for you to tell me that you felt the same,” you said, the sound of your confession and his name falling from your lips causing his heart to warm, “But maybe now that I’m awake we can make up for lost time?” you suggested to him with a wink.

And in an instant, Bucky started to softly kiss you while he held your face in his large hands once more. “I love you so much, baby.” he muttered against your lips in between kisses, causing butterflies to appear in your stomach. 

“Bucky? Could you turn the lights off please? I have a headache.” you softly asked him once his lips pulled away from yours again a few seconds later. “Of course.” he answered with a soft smile as he stood up from his chair and crossed the room to turn the lights off. 

Upon returning to your bedside, he gently scooped you up and moved you over a little so that he could lay down with you. You then slowly rotated so that you were facing him on your non-injured side and snuggled into him, resting your head on his chest.

And although you had just woken up, being in a coma had caused you to feel exhausted and you soon started to get sleepy. “Rest, sweetheart.” Bucky murmured against your hair as he wrapped his arm around you. He’d ask you to be his another time, for now he’d just let you sleep.

NAVIGATION

send me a request!

[hanaridulsetcheese]

broken in time ~ bucky barnes

I. Like Summer In Brooklyn

You, Bucky, and Steve had been inseparable since you were kids, growing up in the same Brooklyn neighborhood where the streets cracked and the fire hydrants doubled as relief from summer heat.

The three of you were a little trio: Steve with his sketchbook and heart too big for his body, Bucky with his cocky grin and bruised knuckles, and you somewhere in between, keeping them both grounded.

Bucky used to throw pebbles at your window on school mornings. "C'mon, sunshine!" he'd call, balancing on the curb with Steve beside him, arms crossed and smirking as if to say, “He’s done this every day, you know.”

You all grew up slowly but surely. Steve stayed small, Bucky got taller, and you, you just started noticing the way Bucky's hand would linger on your back a moment longer than it used to, or the way his eyes followed you when he thought you weren't looking.

There was that winter day when he gave you his scarf, even though he was shivering himself, and your fingers brushed when you tied it around your neck or the time at the county fair when he won you a silver necklace by knocking over every single bottle with a baseball and then looked away, blushing when you kissed his cheek.

It was slow, sweet, and filled with those little moments that stitched themselves into something bigger.

Eventually, Bucky started holding your hand all the time. It wasn't even a question he'd just reach out and your fingers would find his like they'd always belonged there.

Mrs. Rossi the little Italian lady from down the block would call after you both with a warm smile, “You two better invite me to the wedding, you hear?” and you'd laugh, but Bucky would just grin like he already knew something you didn’t.

On a particularly blazing summer day, the three of you had parted ways for once. Steve gone off to draw by the docks, leaving you and Bucky sitting on the porch of your father's building.

The sun had begun its slow descent, and the pavement shimmered with heat. A pitcher of lemonade sat beside you, mostly forgotten.

Bucky was quiet, unusually so. He sat with his forearms resting on his knees, brow furrowed, hair damp from the heat. You leaned against his shoulder, nudging him lightly.

“Penny for your thoughts, Barnes?”

He turned to you slowly, eyes soft and a little distant. Then he smiled, that slow, lazy-summer kind of smile that made your heart skip.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

The words were so simple, so sure, and spoken like he’d already made peace with the fact a long time ago. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and the lemonade never tasted so sweet.

You blinked at him, stunned, heat flushing your cheeks, but Bucky didn’t waver. He reached for your hand, warm and familiar and laced your fingers together.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just know it. Always have.”

The world around you seemed to blur into golden light and the soft chirping of cicadas. You squeezed his hand back and rested your forehead against his.

“Then I guess I’ll start picking out colors.”

From across the street, old Mr. Hotch waved at you both with a chuckle. “Young love!” he called, and Bucky just laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Because from the beginning, it had always been the three of you. But somewhere along the way, you and Bucky found your way to forever one lemonade, one fire escape, and one summer day at a time.

II. Dancing in the Dark

The library smelled of old paper and varnished wood, familiar and comforting, like the memories stacked neatly on every shelf.

It was long after hours, the windows cracked open to let in the summer night air, thick with the scent of lilacs from the street outside. You were curled up in one of the old chairs by the window, your usual spot with your shoes kicked off, legs folded beneath you, a weathered novel in your lap.

Your lips moved as you read, silent but expressive, eyes darting across the page like it was something alive.

Bucky sat nearby, not reading, not pretending to. He was slouched in another creaky chair across from you, fingers idly turning a pencil between them.

The soft buzz of the radio murmured in the background, crackling with the familiar cadence of a Brooklyn station’s late-night show. Music drifted through the room swing tunes and big band crooners but every so often, the cheerful rhythm would break for a sharp-voiced announcer.

“…and in Europe, British troops have moved into-”

Bucky’s hand tightened slightly around the pencil.

He didn’t flinch, but the slight furrow in his brow gave him away. He didn’t say anything. You, still wrapped in your story, didn’t notice the tension that ghosted across his features.

His eyes flicked to you instead, to the way your foot gently swayed back and forth with the rhythm of the sentence you were reading. You were mouthing a line from the book now, your lips curling into a quiet smile. That smile could undo him without a single touch.

Then the radio shifted again. The sharp-voiced broadcaster was gone, replaced by a dreamy melody and a familiar intro, a voice like silk beginning to sing the opening lines of your favorite song.

Immediately, your head popped up from your book. “Oh-oh, wait, wait, that’s it!” You reached toward the radio knob and turned the volume up a little.

You started humming first, then softly singing along, your voice lilting gently through the air like it belonged with the dust motes dancing in the light.

Bucky watched you as if he’d never seen you before, even though he’d watched you a thousand times. Your face was lit up like a lantern, eyes closed, lost in the music. You swayed a little in your seat, hair slipping over your shoulder, and he was helpless against the tug in his chest.

Standing slowly, he crossed the worn floorboards to your chair.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, barely above the music. “Dance with me?”

You blinked, surprised. “Here?”

He just smiled, hand extended. “Why not?”

You laughed, tucking your book aside as you took his hand and let him pull you up.

The chairs and tables faded into the background as the music swelled, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of strings and sentiment. Your bare feet slipped against the cool floor as Bucky held you close, one hand on your waist, the other wrapped around your fingers.

There wasn’t a soul around, but it didn’t matter. You swayed together between the shelves, slow and sweet, like the world had pressed pause just for the two of you.

The music softened, slowing to a tender close, but Bucky didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid from your waist up along your back, fingers tracing the line of your spine with a feather-light touch that sent a shiver through you.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. Dark, intense, and full of something you’d come to know as love, but also hunger.

He leaned in, just a breath away, and your heart kicked hard in your chest.

Without breaking eye contact, he brushed his lips over yours, soft at first, testing the water. Then, when you responded, when your fingers curled around his neck and pulled him closer, he deepened the kiss.

It was slow and searing, like the whole world had shrunk down to the heat between your mouths and the steady beat of his chest against yours.

His hand tangled in your hair, thumb stroking your cheek, anchoring you to him, while the other rested firmly at the small of your back, drawing you flush against his solid frame.

Your breath mingled, uneven and urgent, and you felt the familiar flutter of his pulse beneath your fingertips. The library’s silence wrapped around you, but in this moment, the only sound was the soft rush of your shared breaths and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath your bare feet.

His lips moved from yours to the curve of your jaw, down your neck. Each kiss a whispered promise, a confession you didn’t need words for.

You melted into him, pressing your body closer until every inch of space between you was gone. The heat between you flared, a slow burn that threatened to consume, and Bucky’s hands traced the contours of your back like he was memorizing you all over again.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, lips swollen and smile crooked.

“God, I could get lost in you forever.” he murmured.

You smiled back, breathless, fingers still tangled in his hair. “Then don’t ever find your way out.”

He kissed you again, this time softer, slower before holding you tight, like you were the only thing steady in a world about to spin out of control.

“Pretty sure this is a fireable offense by the way.” you whispered, grinning up at him.

He chuckled, low in his chest. “Then it’s worth getting fired for.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, and his cheek brushed against your temple. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The music, the dim glow of the desk lamp, the quiet all of it was soft and sacred.

Bucky wanted to say something. Something big. That he was scared. That he felt something pulling him toward the recruitment posters he’d been pretending not to look at. That part of him didn’t want to go, but another part knew he might not have a choice. That the world was changing and he might be asked to change with it.

But instead, he held you closer. Just for now.

Because the radio was still playing, and your eyes were closed, and for this one perfect moment he had everything.

III. Broken In Time

A few weeks later, it was raining in Brooklyn. Not a storm just that steady, tapping kind of rain that painted the sidewalks silver and turned the windows into watercolor.

The library was closed early, and the two of you had taken refuge on the rooftop of your father's building, under a borrowed umbrella and a blanket that smelled faintly of cinnamon from your kitchen.

Bucky sat beside you, warm and quiet, his thigh pressed against yours. You held a mug of cocoa in both hands, sipping as you watched the streetlights blink through the curtain of rain.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice a little hoarse, “I enlisted.”

You blinked, turning slowly toward him.

He didn’t look afraid. Just serious. Steady.

You were quiet for a long beat. The rain kept falling. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

“I kinda figured,” you said softly, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve been looking at those posters like they were staring back.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands. “I hate the idea of you being away but I’m proud of you, Buck. You're doing something good. Brave.”

He turned to you then, really turned, and cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing along your cheek like he was memorizing you.

“I’m coming back to you,” he whispered. “I swear it. I’ll marry you right here on this roof if I have to. Just wait for me, doll.”

You leaned into his touch, tears welling up but not falling. “You better keep that promise, Barnes. I’m holding you to it.”

The night before he left, you pressed something into his palm, your silver necklace. The one he’d won you, the one you never took off.

“Something to bring home to me.” you said.

And then he was gone.

Time passed.

Letters stopped coming.

The war ended, but Bucky Barnes never returned.

You didn’t love again. Not really. No one ever felt like him. No one ever held your hand quite right. You worked, lived, aged.

You smiled at children on stoops and gave away books to teenagers with sad eyes and big dreams. You carried Bucky with you in your heart, like a song half-sung, unfinished.

And then one winter morning, many, many decades later you lay quietly in a hospital bed, snow drifting gently past the windows. The world had moved on. But inside, a nurse turned on the radio.

Soft crackling gave way to music.

Your favorite song filled the room.

Your lips parted, just barely, and a fragile smile bloomed as you closed your eyes. The rhythm filled you echoed with memory. You were twenty again in the library, swaying in his arms, whispering against his shoulder.

Outside the door, a man stood.

He hadn’t aged. Not really. But his heart bore every second he’d lost.

Bucky Barnes broken by time, found too late stood with his hand pressed lightly against the doorframe, breath shallow as he listened.

He hadn’t meant to come. He told himself he was just passing through but something pulled him here. Something like fate.

He didn’t enter the room. Not until it went quiet.

She was gone. He had left without a word.

In her arms gently placed, as if it had always been there was the silver necklace she’d given him before he left for war, now tarnished and crumbling with time.

That night, in a quiet apartment far from the city, he took out an old ring he’d carried through war, Hydra, memory, and blood.

And laid it beside her photograph.

The promise had been broken by time, but never forgotten.

[lilmarshie]

secret relationship! Bucky Barnes x Reader | pre thunderbolts! era

*takes place after a long mission with Bucky and Sam*

Sam: *nonchalantly* “You know that Bucky is in love with you, right?”

Y/N: *shakes head in disbelief* “He can’t be…we’re just friends and teammates.”

Sam: “You’ve seen the way he looks at you, y/n! Plus, that hug after the mission? Friends don’t just hug each other like that.”

*Bucky walks in and doesn’t notice Sam in the room*

Bucky: “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling after that mission? Are you doing alright?” *walks over to you and gives you a hug*

Y/N: *tries to subtly glance over to Sam in the corner but fails* “I’m doing good, Buck. How are you doing?”

Bucky: *notices Sam finally* “Sam? What are you doing here? I thought you went out to run some errands?”

Sam: *stammering and doesn’t want to give anything away* “I was just heading out. I saw y/n here and I was just catching up before I left.”

Bucky: *looks over to you* “Uh huh…well I’m going to go and take a nap. I’ll see you guys later.” *looks at you expectantly (almost as if wanting you to follow him) before walking away*

Y/N: *sighs once Bucky is out of earshot* “Well…I guess the truth is out.”

Sam: *laughs* “You couldn’t keep a straight face even if you tried! Your face was beet red as soon as he called you sweetheart. You can’t keep a secret from me.”

Y/N: *lightly punches Sam on the shoulder* “I’m going to go and take a nap.” *heads out of the room*

Sam: *laughs again* “Have fun!”

Y/N: *rolls your eyes as you make your way to Bucky’s room to join him for a nap* “They’re all going to be the death of me.”

[stargrillzz]

Can’t help it, he’s so cute

summary: Bucky, knowing the team needs a new place to hide, turns to the only person he knows will support him. You didn't expect him to bring an entire team with him.

note: OMG BOB IS SO CUTE. xoxo

The makeshift safehouse reeked of dust and distrust.

It was someone’s abandoned cabin off-grid in the middle of Wyoming—too many pine trees, not enough coffee. The floor creaked when Yelena shifted her weight, sitting cross-legged on a rickety table while eating sunflower seeds like she was born for the apocalypse. Ava was pacing like a caged animal near the window. John Walker had his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. Bucky sat in the middle of the room, elbows on knees, fingers threaded into his hair.

And Bob Reynolds… well. Bob stood shirtless in the corner, looking like an accidental god. His shoulders didn’t fit into normal space. His glowing eyes flicked around the room like he was still trying to figure out how reality worked. Or maybe he was just bored. Hard to tell with him.

“So what now?” Alexei grunted from the only real chair, arms stretched wide like a king. “We camp here and wait for the government to find us again? Bad plan. Terrible plan. I’ve been in Russian prisons with more dignity.”

“No one asked you,” Walker muttered.

“We need somewhere better,” Ava cut in, her voice sharp but tired. “Somewhere we can lay low. Where they wouldn’t think to look.”

“Well unless one of you has a vacation home in the Alps,” Yelena said dryly, “we’re pretty much screwed.”

Bucky didn’t move. His jaw ticked once, like a switch flipped in his brain. Slowly, he stood up, eyes distant. “I might know someone.”

That got everyone’s attention. Bob tilted his head, blinking once. Ava stopped pacing. Yelena actually paused mid-sunflower seed.

“You know someone?” Alexei asked.

“Who?” Walker asked, skeptical.

“Just—give me a minute,” Bucky said, already walking outside. He tugged his jacket tighter around him, heading into the cold with a phone already in his hand. His thumb hovered over a number he hadn’t dialed in a long time. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he wasn’t sure he should.

Your contact lit up his screen: Cutest Stark💋 Obviously you saved your contact under that name when you were helping Bucky use his new phone, he just laughed an decided keep it that way.

He sighed and hit call.

Meanwhile, in New York City…

In the gleaming kitchen of Stark Tower—your inherited kingdom—you stirred a bubbling sauce with one hand while balancing your phone between your shoulder and cheek. Morgan’s face filled the screen. She was giggling at something offscreen, probably one of the robots you still kept around.

“—and then I told him,” Morgan said between snickers, “if he thinks he’s smarter than me, he can explain why he just fell for the oldest prank in the book.”

You laughed, warm and full, moving around the kitchen barefoot in one of Tony’s old MIT sweatshirts. “God, you’re such a Stark it hurts.”

“I know,” Morgan beamed. “You taught me well.”

Before you could respond, a second call tried to interrupt. Your screen flashed with a name you hadn’t seen in weeks. Maybe months. James. F. Barnes.

You froze.

Morgan squinted. “Is that who I think it is?”

You smiled, heart stuttering, sauce forgotten. “Yeah. I—hang on, peanut.”

You switched the call, pressed video, and Bucky’s face filled your screen, framed by pine trees and late afternoon light. His hair was longer. His stubble thicker. He looked tired… but your name made him smile.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Bucky!” You nearly dropped the spoon. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see your face. Where have you been? Wait—never mind, I don’t care. I missed you. Are you okay? Are you safe?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I missed you too. I, uh… I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important.”

Your expression softened immediately. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”

“We’re in a tight spot. New team, no allies. We need a place to lay low for a bit.”

You didn’t hesitate. “You’re coming home.”

He blinked. “You sure?”

“Bucky,” you said gently, “I kept this place running for a reason. Your room’s still here. The tower’s secure. FRIDAY still knows your coffee order. Come home.”

He exhaled slowly, like the weight of the world finally slid off his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” You paused, smirking a little. “But when you get here, you will have to explain why the hell it took you this long to call me. I mean, seriously. I thought you died. Again.”

He chuckled, that low, gravelly laugh that used to echo through the Tower halls. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.”

Then your voice softened. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

The call ended, but your chest stayed warm. Morgan peeked back on the screen, smirking. “So… do I get to meet your war criminal boyfriend now?”

You groaned, but couldn’t stop smiling. “He’s not my—oh, shut up.”

Because yes, obviously, you always liked Bucky.

Who wouldn't?

It was just a crush though.

He was clearly a man who wasn't ready for anything with anyone, and you were a person who wanted everything with someone. Clearly, you weren't a good match. The point here, the sweet tone you used with him and the tender way you looked at him, was because he was your last lifeline. The last thing you had left connected to your father, Steve, Nat. Bucky is the last thing you had left, the only living proof that everything that happened really happened and wasn't in vain.

“We have a place,” Bucky said flatly, stepping back into the cabin’s main room. Everyone looked up.

Alexei blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, pulling his glove tighter. “It’s secure, off-radar, not government-controlled. We’ll be safe.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Where?”

He hesitated just long enough for them all to stare.

“…Stark Tower,” he finally muttered, and immediately regretted how that sounded.

Walker nearly choked. “You’re taking us to Tony Stark’s skyscraper? The Stark Tower? Didn’t that thing light up like a Christmas tree every time someone sneezed near Manhattan?”

“It’s under new management,” Bucky grumbled, grabbing his bag. “Let’s go.”

The quinjet landed on the private helipad atop Stark Tower at sunset, the entire skyline of New York painted in golden pinks and fire. The building glowed from within — a quiet kind of warmth, like someone had taken a monument of history and turned it into a real home.

The moment the team stepped into the elevator, surrounded by polished chrome and holographic glass panels, Bucky turned to face them all like an exhausted dad.

“Okay,” he said, lifting his hands. “I mean this — please. Behave.”

Yelena gave a little shrug. “You act like we are not capable of being polite.”

“You’re not,” Bucky shot back.

“Who exactly lives here now?” Ava asked, watching the floor numbers tick upward.

“That’d be…the older Stark,” Bucky said carefully. “Tony’s oldest daughter.”

The group went quiet.

“Oh,” Alexei said. “That Stark.”

“Wait wait wait,” Walker held up a finger. “Like Stark-Stark? The billionaire genius daughter of Iron Man who disappeared from public life after he—”

“Yes,” Bucky cut him off sharply. His voice lowered. “She was like family to Tony’s team. She stayed behind to keep the place safe. And she’s letting us stay, so try not to ruin it.”

Before anyone could reply, the elevator chimed — and the doors opened.

You stood there.

Hair soft and glowing in the evening light. Wearing leggings and a loose tank, barefoot but radiant, like the Tower itself breathed easier when you were in it. You held your breath the moment you saw Bucky, your eyes wide, lips parted, like you weren’t sure if he was real or a memory.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

He barely had time to register your name before you ran.

You launched into his arms like muscle memory, clinging to him with your face buried in his shoulder, and he caught you without hesitation, arms winding around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was tight, grounding, a little desperate.

“God, I missed you,” you murmured against his neck.

“I missed you too,” he said into your hair. “You look—Jesus, you look beautiful. You always do.”

You pulled back, eyes glossy but full of a grin. “You really ghosted me, Barnes.”

“I know.” He grimaced, brushing your cheek. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You better.”

You finally turned your attention to the crew behind him, all still in the elevator like they were watching a rom-com unfold in real time.

“Wow,” you breathed. “You brought… everyone.”

He cleared his throat, hand still on the small of your back. “Right. Uh—guys, this is Y/N Stark. She’s letting us crash here.”

You smiled. “Welcome to Stark Tower, or what’s left of it. Now a semi-chaotic haven for misfit vigilantes, apparently.”

Alexei stepped forward and shook your hand with a grin. “Is honor to meet small Stark daughter.”

“Oh no,” you smiled. “I’m not small. I’m just the older sibling now.”

Yelena stepped out next, and the moment your eyes locked with hers, you froze mid-breath.

“…You okay?” Yelena asked gently, brow creased.

You nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “It’s just—Natasha… she was like an aunt to me. We lived here together. She’d braid my hair in the mornings. Seeing you—it’s like a part of her walked back through the door.”

Yelena’s gaze softened instantly. She stepped forward and pulled you into a quiet, firm hug. “She would’ve loved that,” she said into your ear. “And I think she’d be glad you’re still here.”

You clung to her a second longer than expected, heart full. Bucky smiled to himself, a weight lifted.

Then John Walker strolled forward, flashing you his best smug grin. “So… you’re telling me a gorgeous, genius Stark lives in a high-rise all alone? How’s that legal?”

Before you could answer, Bucky’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “Back off.”

Walker blinked. “What? I’m just saying hi.”

“Say hi to the wall,” Bucky muttered.

And then—

You turned.

And saw him.

Bob Reynolds stood awkwardly near the elevator’s edge, towering, golden-haired, built like a titan and blinking like he didn’t know where to put his hands. His eyes met yours, and then traveled—slowly, reverently—across every inch of you.

And then, aloud—without even realizing:

“…She looks like a goddess.”

Everyone went still.

Bob’s face froze. His mouth dropped slightly.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, eyes wide in horror. “I—I thought that. That was supposed to stay inside my head.”

You laughed, hand covering your mouth as your cheeks flushed. “You’re sweet.”

Bob blushed so hard it looked like his skin might combust.

“I—I didn’t mean to—like, you are, but—oh no, I should stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you said, grinning. “You’re adorable. You can talk.”

He looked at Bucky for help. Bucky looked like he wanted to throw him off the balcony.

You clapped your hands. “Okay! Quick tour before someone combusts. Everyone gets a private room with a bathroom. There’s a training floor on level 12, a kitchen that doesn’t explode anymore thanks to FRIDAY, and a living space where you can yell at each other like a dysfunctional family. Just—don’t break anything expensive, or sentimental. Or, y’know, the structural integrity of the building.”

Yelena raised her hand. “Do weapons count as sentimental?”

“Only if they were gifted,” you winked.

---

It was late.

The kind of late where the city had gone quiet, even the Tower’s hum softened like it was tucked under a blanket. You were curled into the corner of the oversized couch in the common room, legs folded, one of Tony’s hoodies hanging loose off your shoulder. The only light came from the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the skyline blinked in a million tiny stars.

And Bucky was sitting beside you.

Not close enough to touch — not yet — but close enough that your knees almost brushed, that the weight of his presence filled the space in ways silence never could.

You smiled softly, looking out the window. “Morgan asked about you again today.”

He glanced over. “She did?”

You nodded. “She thinks you’re my boyfriend. Keeps insisting on it, actually. Says she’s seen the way I smile when you text.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Smart kid.”

You bumped his knee. “She gets it from me.”

He looked over, finally meeting your eyes. His were tired, but soft. "I missed this. I missed you."

“I missed you too,” you whispered, and you meant it like it had been carved into your chest.

A pause stretched between you — not awkward, just heavy. Heavy with time. With words you hadn’t gotten to say.

“How’ve you been?” you asked gently.

He exhaled, leaning back. “Weird. Floating. Sometimes I feel like I’ve figured things out. Then I wake up and I’m right back where I started. The team helps, but… I’m still figuring out who I am when I’m not being used. When I’m not fighting.”

You nodded. “I get that.”

He looked at you for a long beat. “How about you?”

You hesitated.

Then you told the truth.

“I’ve been lonely.”

It came out quieter than you meant it to. You stared at your hands. “At first, it was just grief. For my dad, for Nat, for Steve—God, even Thor. I don’t know where the hell he is. Clint’s with his kids. Bruce is off somewhere being Bruce. Everyone left. Or died. And I… stayed.”

Bucky watched you like the world might shatter if he blinked.

You gave a small smile. “I kept this place alive, Bucky. I filled the Tower with warmth again, but it didn’t feel like home. Not without any of you here. So I got used to it. The quiet. The space. The ghosts.”

Bucky moved closer, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded thing.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice steady. “Not anymore. Not as long as I’m here.”

You looked at him.

“I mean it,” he whispered, reaching for your hand. His metal fingers brushed against your skin like he was still afraid to break it. “You and me, we’re gonna stick together.”

“‘Til when?” you asked, a small smile playing at your lips.

He squeezed your hand.

“‘Til the end of the line.”

You closed your eyes. That old phrase — it still made your heart ache in the sweetest way. You turned your hand to link your fingers with his, soft and sure.

And then you whispered back: “I’ll love you 3000.”

His breath caught.

And he smiled.

Like something lost had just come back to him.

Like a promise he’d almost forgotten was suddenly real again.

---

The training room of Stark Tower was nearly empty — just the quiet whir of air conditioning and the thud of your feet hitting the mat as you moved through a practiced series of kicks and strikes. You’d been at it for an hour, sweat glistening down your neck, your breathing even, controlled. The Tower’s AI, FRIDAY, had the playlist low in the background, something smooth with a beat you could punch to.

You weren’t showing off.

But you weren’t holding back either.

Your dad started your training when you were a kid — when you were still small enough to sit in the lap of one of his Iron Man suits. And when Natasha took over, it became second nature. Your body knew the dance of it. Every twist, every dodge, every controlled exhale.

And then—

You felt it.

The eyes.

You stopped mid-kick, chest rising and falling.

“…You know,” you said without turning around, grabbing a towel from the bench and dabbing your forehead, “if you’re gonna stare at me like that, the polite thing to do is say hi.”

A pause. Then a very deep voice stammered—

“I wasn’t—staring. I mean—okay, I was. But not in a weird way.”

You turned.

Bob Reynolds stood in the doorway, sheepish and impossibly sweet for a man who could melt steel with his pinky. His hair was tousled like he’d just run a hand through it out of pure nerves, and he was already blushing, even before you smiled.

You cocked your head. “That so?”

He blinked. “I mean—you were… doing that spin-kick thing. It was really impressive.”

You took a few steps closer, casually. Your sports bra clung to your ribs, the black fabric soaked in a way that definitely wasn’t helping Bob keep his thoughts PG. “Thanks. I’ve been training since I was little.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I could tell. You move like a storm.”

You raised a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment, or a warning?”

His eyes widened. “Compliment! Definitely. A very respectful—intense—uh, not creepy compliment.”

You laughed, crossing your arms loosely. “Relax, Bob. I’m not gonna kick your ass.”

“…I’d probably let you.”

Your smile froze for a second, caught off-guard — and then widened.

“Oh?” you teased. “You into that sort of thing?”

Bob’s face went bright red. “N-no! I mean, I—I don’t know if I’m—uh, maybe? Oh god, I said that out loud again, didn’t I?”

You laughed so hard you had to brace your hands on your knees. “You really need a filter.”

He groaned, half-hiding behind a training dummy. “I swear I used to be cool.”

“I think you’re pretty cute like this.”

That got his attention.

He peeked out at you, blinking like he wasn’t sure you were being serious. “You… do?”

You took a step closer again, slow and smooth. “You’re like a golden retriever with godlike powers. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bob laughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, his voice a little softer. “Yeah, well… you’re like… if a goddess got bored of Olympus and decided to just casually ruin me on a Tuesday.”

You tilted your head, genuinely curious. “Ruin you, huh?”

He looked like he might spontaneously combust. “I—I mean emotionally. I think.”

You leaned in just a little. “You say the sweetest things.”

Bob’s breath caught as your fingers brushed his arm, just lightly.

Then you backed up, letting him breathe, and turned your attention back to the training mat.

“I’m done here,” you said, tossing your towel over your shoulder. “You coming?”

He blinked. “Coming where?”

You looked over your shoulder, your smile slow and teasing. “Kitchen. You owe me a smoothie. For the compliments. And the stare.”

Bob followed like a puppy. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I make a killer smoothie. Or, like… an aggressively average one. But I’ll give it emotional effort.”

You snorted. “Just don’t explode the blender.”

“No promises.”

As the elevator closed behind you both, he looked at you again — still soft, still wonderstruck — and whispered, “You really are something else.”

You didn’t answer.

You just leaned a little closer, brushing his knuckles with yours.

---

The kitchen was full of sunlight and chaos.

Alexei was digging through the fridge like it personally offended him. Yelena was perched on the countertop, already eating cold pizza with no shame. Ava stood in the corner like a ghost who had opinions but refused to share them. John Walker was trying — and failing — to figure out how to use the espresso machine.

And Bob?

Bob was making pancakes.

Or attempting to.

“Is this… normal?” Yelena asked, watching with a crooked grin as Bob poured another lumpy circle of batter onto the skillet, half of it splashing onto the stove.

“It’s either breakfast,” you said, tying your robe a little tighter around your waist as you stepped into the room, “or a science experiment.”

Bob turned around at the sound of your voice and lit up. “You’re up!”

You smiled. “Didn’t think I’d sleep through a kitchen explosion.”

He beamed like you’d just handed him a Nobel Prize. “I made you pancakes!”

You walked over, inspecting the pile. “…You tried to make me pancakes.”

“They’re… heart-shaped?” he offered hopefully.

“They look like they’re bleeding.”

He laughed, bright and boyish, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Bucky’s voice came from behind you — low, casual, watchful.

You turned just in time to catch him entering, hair still damp from the shower, black T-shirt clinging to his chest, dog tags tucked out of sight. His eyes flicked from you to Bob, then to the pancakes, and then back to Bob again.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That for her?”

Bob straightened. “Yeah! I mean—yeah, I wanted to make her something. As a thank-you. For letting us crash here.”

Bucky’s tone stayed polite. Too polite. “Right. Real thoughtful of you.”

Bob swallowed, and you quickly stepped between them.

“He’s just being nice,” you said with a smile, brushing Bucky’s arm as you passed. “And I did promise to let him cook something after that smoothie yesterday.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “He cooked?”

“Well… he blended.”

Walker wandered in with a cup of badly frothed coffee. “We talking about Bob’s pancake massacre? I give ‘em 4 outta 10. Points for optimism.”

“You put ketchup on eggs,” Yelena muttered.

“That’s freedom flavor.”

You rolled your eyes and slid onto a stool, sipping the orange juice Ava had silently placed beside you. “Thank you, Ava.”

She nodded, her version of a hug.

Bob placed a plate in front of you, his proudest smile yet. “Okay. Taste test.”

You picked up the fork dramatically, took a bite… and paused.

Bob leaned in. “Well?”

“…It’s not the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” you said.

Yelena choked. Walker snorted. Bucky froze mid-sip of coffee, eyes locked on you.

You turned to Bob with a sweet smile. “That was not meant to sound that filthy.”

Bob, very red: “I—uh—I wasn’t thinking anything. I mean I was, but not that—well, okay, I was but I—”

Bucky stepped between you both, casually, placing a protective hand on your back and subtly guiding you away from the stove like it was radioactive.

“She doesn’t need to eat any more of that,” he said firmly. “I’ll cook something decent.”

“Hey,” Bob protested. “They’re edible!”

“Barely,” Bucky muttered, already cracking eggs into a bowl. “She deserves real food.”

You leaned on the counter, grinning at him.

“Overprotective much?”

He glanced at you sideways, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear. “You’ve had enough men treat you like something to win. I’m not letting him be one of them.”

You stared at him, heart skipping just a bit.

“…You know I can take care of myself, right?”

“I know.” He handed you a fork. “Doesn’t mean I won’t still try.”

You bit your lip, hiding a soft smile.

And Bob — poor Bob — watched you both with a mixture of awe and panic, like he’d just stumbled into a Netflix rom-com and realized he might be the side character.

“Uh,” he said finally, “I can do dishes!”

Yelena patted his shoulder. “That’s probably safer.”

---

The training room was charged.

You were in leggings and a fitted tank top, wrapping your wrists in tape, jaw set with a hint of a smirk. Across from you stood John Walker, cocky as ever, bouncing on the balls of his feet like this was a warm-up. Ava and Yelena sat off to the side, watching with sharp eyes and popcorn-level interest.

Bob was leaning on the far wall, arms crossed, pretending not to watch too hard. He was failing.

And Bucky?

He was there too. Silent. Focused. Leaning against the glass with arms folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched, eyes glued to you.

“I go easy on Stark’s kid, or what?” Walker joked as he stepped forward.

You smirked. “If you need to.”

The match started.

Walker was good — strong, fast, overconfident. You was better — precise, fluid, cool as ice. He threw a hook. You ducked. Spun. Grabbed his wrist, twisted, and swept him flat onto his back in one breathless second.

“Jesus,” Walker groaned, staring at the ceiling. “You marry me and we rule the world or what?”

From the corner, Bucky pushed off the wall.

“No.”

Walker blinked up at him. “Uh—wasn’t really asking you.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He stepped into the ring without a word, eyes locked on you. The tension in the room crackled. Even Bob stood straighter.

You tilted your head. “You wanna go?”

His voice was low. “You need a real challenge.”

You smiled. “Alright, soldier.”

You circled each other slowly, like a dance you’d done before. Bucky moved with sharp grace — watching, calculating, and when he struck, it was fast. You blocked. Countered. Moved into his space. He grabbed your waist during a fake-out — held you a second too long — and flipped you.

You hit the mat with a laugh. “Cheap.”

“You love cheap.”

“You love controlling.”

He smirked. “Only when it keeps you safe.”

You were breathing fast, skin flushed, limbs burning with adrenaline — and you knew what this looked like. The way he lingered in your space. The way your hand lingered too long on his chest when you got back up.

And Bob?

Bob had gone very, very quiet.

When the match ended, you caught your breath and turned — but Bob was already gone.

---

You found him on the balcony outside the Tower gym. His back was to the wall, hair tousled, long legs stretched out, eyes on the sky.

You stepped out, closing the door behind you. “You ghosting me?”

He didn’t look at you. “Wasn’t trying to.”

You sat beside him, knee brushing his. “You left kind of fast.”

“I figured you and Bucky needed… space.” He forced a laugh. “Looked like you two had your own language going on.”

You were quiet for a second. Then—

“He’s protective,” you said gently. “Always has been. But that doesn’t mean—”

Bob cut you off, voice low. “You let him touch you like that.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“I know it’s not my place,” Bob went on, rubbing his palms together like he was trying to wring something out of them. “I just… I see how he looks at you. And you let him get close. Real close.”

You swallowed. “He’s family, Bob.”

“Family doesn’t look at you like that,” he whispered. “Like they’d burn the world down just to keep you for themselves.”

You turned to him — really turned.

And for the first time, Bob didn’t meet your gaze. He stared straight ahead.

“I’m not stupid,” he said. “I know what I am. I’ve been broken. Rebuilt. Ripped apart inside. I know I’m not the guy someone like you is supposed to end up with.”

“Don’t say that.”

He exhaled, a bitter edge curling into his voice. “You laugh at my stupid jokes. You let me make you smoothies. You smile like I’m more than just some weird science accident with a god complex. And I don’t even know if you mean it or if you’re just—being nice. Because you’re kind.”

You reached out, gently cupping his jaw. That got him to look at you.

“I meant every smile, Bob. Every time.”

He blinked, breath hitching.

You leaned in, forehead brushing his. “If I didn’t… would I be out here with you, when I could be inside with him?”

He closed his eyes. “You make me feel like I’m not a mistake.”

You kissed his cheek — soft, lingering. “You’re not.”

And in that moment, something shifted.

He didn’t kiss you. Not yet.

But he stayed close.

And he didn’t look at the sky again.

He only looked at you.

---

It was late.

The city was quiet in the way it only gets around midnight — the hum of traffic in the distance, a breeze threading between tall buildings, neon lights flickering against puddles.

You were walking with Bob, hands brushing now and then, neither of you saying much.

You didn’t have to.

He’d shown up outside your door after dinner with two milkshakes and a hoodie that was definitely his and had asked if you wanted to take a walk. No big mission. No team. Just you and him.

And now you were here. Calm. Close. Every few seconds, he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You turned to him with a smile. “You keep staring.”

Bob flushed. “Sorry. You just look…”

His voice trailed off.

You raised a brow. “Look what?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Like you should be illegal.”

You laughed. “Is that your way of flirting?”

He grinned shyly. “I’m new to it.”

You were about to respond when you heard it — footsteps quickening behind you, a camera flash, and then—

“Hey! Hey, wait—aren’t you Stark’s daughter?”

A man with a phone stepped in front of you, suddenly way too close. He wasn’t paparazzi — just some guy. Early twenties, beer on his breath, and eyes darting up and down your body like you were on display.

“Holy sh*t, it is you,” he said, stepping closer. “Damn, I thought you were hotter on the news, but—Jesus, you’re—”

“Back up,” Bob said sharply.

The man blinked, finally looking at him. “Relax, dude, I’m just trying to get a picture—”

“I said back the f*ck up.”

You grabbed Bob’s arm, gently. “It’s okay—”

But it wasn’t.

Because the air changed.

The golden hum started in Bob’s chest — soft, at first. His breath hitched, eyes flickering. You saw the power curling at his fingertips, glowing like a warning.

He stepped between you and the stranger, voice like steel. “You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to talk to her. You don’t even get to look at her like that.”

“Jesus, alright,” the guy muttered, backing off. “Freak.”

And then he was gone.

Bob didn’t move.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping around to face him. “Hey, look at me.”

His jaw was tight. Hands shaking. Power still crackling in his veins.

“I’m okay,” you said, placing both hands on his chest. “I’m okay, Bob.”

He looked at you like he was barely holding it together. “He was looking at you like you were a thing.”

“But I’m not,” you whispered. “I’m yours. Right?”

Something in him broke.

In a second, his hands were on your hips, gripping hard like he needed to feel you to believe it. He pulled you close — flush against him — and kissed you like he couldn’t breathe without it.

You gasped, and he groaned, deep and rough, backing you up against the nearest wall, his body covering yours. The city faded. There was only him.

His voice was low, shaking. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, lips brushing his.

He kissed down your neck, open-mouthed, desperate. “I want you so bad. I want to keep you like this — close. Always.”

“You can,” you said, tugging his hoodie until he was practically on top of you. “You already do.”

“I’ll protect you,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let anyone get near you like that again. Not even him.”

You shook your head. “Bob…”

He smiled, eyes soft now. “I know. It’s not about him. It’s just—when it comes to you… I go a little feral.”

You kissed him again — slower this time, deeper, and when you pulled back, his eyes were glowing with heat and something softer too.

“You make me feel like I’m someone worth loving,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You are.”

And right there, in the quiet dark of the city, Bob Reynolds kissed you like a promise:

That you were his. And he was yours. And no one would ever touch you again — not unless they wanted to burn.

---

The front door clicked shut behind you.

The tower was dark, lit only by the city glow bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You kicked your shoes off, tossing your jacket on the bench near the elevator.

Bob followed behind you, quieter than usual, hoodie sleeves pushed up, jaw tight.

Neither of you had said much since that moment in the alley. His hand had hovered at your lower back the whole walk home, but he didn’t touch you again.

He hadn’t needed to.

The air between you was thick.

You glanced at him now as you padded toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink? I think there’s still some—”

Bob grabbed your hand.

You turned.

He was right there.

Close. Eyes burning. His thumb brushed your wrist, and when he spoke, it was low and aching.

“Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

You stepped into him instead.

His hands found your waist, slow and reverent. “I almost lost it earlier,” he whispered. “The way he touched you. Looked at you. I—I saw red.”

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his face.

Bob leaned into your hand. “It scared me. How fast I’d burn down the whole world for you.”

Your chest rose and fell, breath catching.

“Bob…”

“I don’t want to be careful with you anymore,” he said, voice rough. “I want to be yours. I want to show you what it means to be wanted—not just protected. Not just looked after. Claimed.”

A beat passed.

Then you whispered: “Then take me.”

That’s all it took.

He kissed you.

Not the sweet, nervous kisses from before. This was hungry. Deep. Desperate. Like he was memorizing the taste of your mouth in case the world ended tomorrow.

You gasped as he picked you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, walking you backwards down the hallway toward your room — his hoodie riding up your thighs, your fingers twisted in his hair.

He dropped you onto the bed like you were the softest, most sacred thing he’d ever touched.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he breathed, crawling over you, every line of his body pressed to yours. “You walk into a room and I forget who I am.”

“Bob—”

He kissed your neck. Your collarbone. Worshipping. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you what it feels like to be mine.”

You nodded, chest rising and falling fast. “Please.”

He pulled back just long enough to tug the hoodie over your head — and then paused.

His eyes swept over you. Slowly. Reverently.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

You reached up, tugging at his shirt, and he let you peel it off. And when his skin touched yours — warm, flushed, shaking — he groaned like he’d just come home.

Everything after that blurred into heat and light and him:

His mouth tracing every inch of your body. His voice in your ear, thick with praise: “You’re so beautiful… so sweet… so mine.” His hands holding you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. And when he finally pushed into you — slow, deep, trembling with how badly he needed it — he buried his face in your neck and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

You clung to him, breathless, lost in the feel of him, the weight of him, the way he filled you so completely it felt like he’d marked your soul.

And when you came undone — shivering, gasping his name — he followed seconds later, holding you tight like he never wanted to let go.

After, you lay tangled together, sheets kicked down, the city glowing outside the window.

Bob kissed your forehead, still breathless.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not now. Not ever.”

You smiled, eyes heavy, voice soft. “Good.” Because now? You were his and he was yours.

---

The next morning in Stark Tower felt unusually quiet.

You were in the kitchen, making coffee, wrapped in one of Bob’s oversized hoodies, the fabric soft against your skin. The scent of fresh brew filled the air, a small comfort in the sprawling, empty space.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a careful gaze that had grown sharper over the past few days.

At first, he thought it was just the normal relief of seeing you safe — but lately, there was something different.

The way you smiled at Bob across the room, the easy way you let him touch you, the way Bob’s eyes lingered on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

It hit Bucky like a punch to the gut.

He cleared his throat.

“Morning,” he said, voice a little rough.

You turned, bright-eyed and warm. “Hey, Bucky. Coffee?”

He nodded, stepping inside. “Thanks.”

There was a pause.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. “Look… I just wanted to say… it’s good to see you smiling again.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’ve missed this. Missed all of you.”

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah… well, some things don’t change. I still don’t like the idea of anyone—” He glanced toward Bob, who was casually lifting weights nearby, “—getting too close.”

Your smile faltered just a bit.

Bob caught the glance and grinned, waving a dumbbell like a trophy.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything else.

Later, as you and Bob settled in the training room, Bucky lingered nearby, watching from a distance.

He noticed how Bob’s hand found yours easily, how your laughter sounded lighter when you were with him, and how Bob’s protective gaze never left you, even in moments when no one else was around.

The realization was sinking in.

Something had changed.

And Bucky wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

[risrambles]

sambucky go to a fair and for two whole hours bucky is destroying sam in every single dart throwing, water gun shooting, and aim-centric game while sam slowly goes more and more insane and even calls joaquin in for back up, but they’re no match for bucky barnes and his ww2 sniper AND winter soldier assassin aura

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR WRITING ❤️ Can you write about tfatws Bucky where the reader is a full time nurse, dating Bucky, and has a whole baby with him when she finds out Bucky got arrested. She’s pissed traveling all the way to bail Bucky out. When they leave jail the reader is arguing with Bucky when John decides to put his opinion out there and suddenly her anger is no longer towards Bucky.

So sorry if that didn’t make sense 😕

Try To Be Better » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Female Reader with son James Jr and John Walker

Summary: As Bucky is trying to be better after yours and his son is born, he ends up getting arrested. Then John Walker decides to put his opinion where it shouldn’t be.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, dad!Bucky/mom!reader, boyfriend!Bucky/girlfriend!reader, kissing, pet names

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

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

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

Your phone started ringing as soon as you stepped in the door. You sighed and put James Jr on the couch who was in his car seat. You took your phone out of your pocket and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Bucky says.

“You know how much I hate it when you say that.” You say.

“I know and I’m sorry. I need you to bail me out of jail.” He says.

“Seriously, Bucky?!” You tried not to raise your voice in front of your son. “I just got home from work. What am I supposed to do with James? We don’t have a babysitter for him.” You say.

“Bring him with you.” He says.

Your eyes went wide when he said that. Is it a good idea to drive that far with a 3 month old baby? No, but you don’t have a choice.

“I’m on my way. Try not to get into anymore trouble.” You say.

“I won’t. I love you, doll.” He says.

“I love you too, babe.” You say.

You hang up and put your phone in your pocket. You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. You looked down at your son who was staring up at you with the cutest look on his face.

“Daddy’s got himself in a bit of a sticky situation and we have to go get him.” You cooed.

James Jr blinked at you. You changed James’s diaper before picking up his car seat and strapped him back in the car. You got in the driver’s seat and started the car, making your way to the jail.

Surprisingly, James Jr didn’t cry the whole car ride to Maryland. He either slept or babbled. When you got there, you walked inside of the jail, carrying James Jr in his car seat inside with you.

“I’m here to bail out James Barnes.” You tell the officer behind the desk.

“One moment.” The officer says before going to get Bucky out of the holding cell.

The officer unlocked the cell door and opened it.

“Barnes, you’re being bailed out.” The officer tells Bucky.

Bucky stood up and followed him to the main lobby of the jail. He already knew you were pissed at him just by looking at your face. You didn’t say a word to your boyfriend till you guys got to the car.

“Are you going to talk to me, doll?” Bucky asks as you strapped James Jr’s car seat in the car.

“If I talk, I’m going to yell.” You say.

“Then yell.” He says.

You sighed and shut the car door, looking at Bucky.

“I would if our son wasn’t with us and there wasn’t cops around.” You say.

Bucky sighs, leaning against your car and crossing his arms over his chest as you stared at him.

“What the hell did you do to get arrested, Bucky?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky says.

“Obviously, you did! You got arrested.” You say.

“I forgot to go to therapy.” He says.

“You can’t forget to go to therapy, Bucky. It’s court mandated for a reason.” You say.

“I didn’t mean to.” He says.

You scoffed and shook your head at your boyfriend.

“You promised to be better when James was born. You’re a father now, Bucky. What example are you trying to set for our son?” You say.

“I’m trying! Shouldn’t that count for something?” He says.

“It would if you didn’t get arrested!” You say.

“I’m sorry!” He apologizes loudly. “I know I fucked up! I made you drive all the way here with our 3 months old son to bail me out of jail.” He says.

As you and a Bucky continued arguing, John Walker walked up to you and Bucky.

“Bucky.” John says.

“What do you want, Walker?” Bucky asks with annoyance in his voice.

“Who is she?” John asks.

“My girlfriend and the mother of my child.” Bucky tells him.

“Why is she here?” John asks.

“None of your fucking business, dude.” You said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m trying to talk to my boyfriend and the father of my child.” You say, shooing him away with a motion from your hand.

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that, Barnes?” John says.

“Yup.” Bucky replies.

“You should keep your mouth shut before you say something to the wrong person.” John says, looking at you.

You rose your eyebrows at John. Your anger toward Bucky started to fade away and started to build up towards John.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You know, you should’ve just stayed home to take care of your baby instead of driving all the way here to bail your baby daddy out of jail.” He says.

Now all of your anger shifted to John. Your jaw clenched when he brought up yours and Bucky’s son like that. You lunged at John. Bucky grabbed you by wrapping his arms around and pulled you back against him before you could do anything to John.

“Walk away, Walker before I actually let her kick your ass.” Bucky says.

“What example would that set for you guys as parents?” John asks.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, dude.” You growled, trying to lunge at him again. “Never bring up our son again.” You say in a warning tone.

“Whatever. I have better things to do anyway.” John says before walking away.

You sighed and leaned your head back against Bucky’s chest and closing your eyes momentarily.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You apologized softly.

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing, doll.” Bucky rests his chin against your shoulder. “I’m the one who skipped out on therapy and got arrested. I told you drive all the way here with our 3 month old son. I’m sorry. I’ll try my best to be better. I promise.” He apologizes softly.

“All is forgiven, babe.” You say softly.

Bucky smiles and spins you around to kiss you sweetly. You two smiled against each other’s lips.

“Is that guy really trying to be Captain America?” You asked.

“Unfortunately.” He says.

You tilted your head back and groaned, making Bucky laugh softly.

“Try not to get arrested again, ok?” You say.

“I won’t. I promise.” Bucky promises.

“I love you, baby.” You almost whispered, pecking his lips.

“I love you more, doll.” He whispers back. “Let’s go home.” He says softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Perfect Gift

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, older!reader (50s)

Summary: you remember Bucky's birthday but he wants more than you give him.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BUCKO.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

It's a bit silly. A bit of extra effort feels like a lot. You're almost embarrassed at the thought of it. You should just keep it to yourself. Give it to someone else. You probably won't even see him. 

You stand at the tall lab table, one elbow planted as you hover your pen over the report. There's not much going on that day but it's still special. For him. He must have plans, certainly with someone else. Forget it, do your work.  

No one needs any stitching up so you'll stick with the usual. You still can't figure out what that thick blue sludge is. A venom that sticks to the skin like tar. Despite running it through almost every piece of equipment available to you, it remains mysterious and it wouldn't be too unusual to find it isn't an earthly substance. 

Sigh. The icing's going to melt. You're stupid. And too old to be. 

You cringe behind your hand as you lean your forehead into your palm. The door slides open from the other side and you sit up, the stool wobbling beneath you dangerously. You latch onto the table and steady the feet. 

Oh, it's him. Shoot. Despite the work you put into the surprise, you suddenly wish he'd stayed away. That he kept to his actual friends. 

"Hey," Bucky marches up to the end of the table. "You figure out that gas?" 

"Gas... er, oh yes," you perk up. Work is easy to talk about. It's what you know. They only thing you've ever known. "I'm surprised it didn't knock you out. You brought me an empty canister." 

"Serum," he shrugs, his vibranium arm flexing as if reminding you of who he is. How can you forget that? 

"Right, uh, about that--" 

"No more needles, doc. I heard you got enough samples from Hydra," he crosses his arms. Despite his warning, humour dimples in his cheek. 

"No, I wasn't..." you shake your head. "I was just thinking you could do eight hours on a treadmill while I monitor your levels." 

"You are insane," he scoffs and unfolds his arms. He rounds the table, dragging his metal fingertips over it. 

"Anyway, er, about that gas," you hop off the stool before he can reach you. "It's designed to inhibit neural processing. I mean, the immediate effects are typical. Unconsciousness but after that, it sticks around." You look at him and squint, "how are you feeling?" 

"As good as I ever do," he levels his hand and wiggles it, "middling." 

"Right," you exhale and tap your toe nervously. "Even... on your birthday?" 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and his eyes list away, "you remembered?" 

"I have a thing for dates." You say. 

"A historian and a doctor, wow," he utters. 

You look away, "sorry... if I overstepped. I know some people like that to keep that stuff private. You know, small celebrations." 

"Well, I haven't celebrated since 1941, so... yeah, not on the top of my list." 

His words hang in the air. Your heart races and he sighs. He slowly nears. 

"But..." he drags out the last consonant, "you did something." 

"Bucky..." 

"I can hear your heart. No use pretending. Oh, shit, please don't say it's a surprise party. I knew Sam was up to something," he growls. 

You laugh. It's nice of him to think you'd be included. You shake your head and back up. 

"It's... just from me. Nothing big," you go to your locker and reach into the cooler bag. "I hope you have a sweet tooth--" 

You turn back and find him right in front of you. You flinch. You gasp in surprise. He's fast. And silent. 

"It's er," you look past him, at where he just was, on the other side of the table, "a cupcake. Strawberry swirl with a shortcake crumple on top and cream cheese icing," you cradle the container daintily. 

"Wow, you did that? For me?" 

"I mean, it's a hobby. I always end up giving cookies out to the neighborhood kids," you shrug. "Really, it's small. Nothing big." 

His blue eyes focus on the clear top of the container. He blinks. His jaw tenses and his dimples deepen, the cleft in his chin tautens. You nearly wilt at the heat roiling from him; or that's just you and your stupid self. 

"I... thanks," he reaches to take it, his fingers brushing yours. "That's..." he exhales. "That's nice of you. It's... incredible." He turns it and examines your delicate work. "The last birthday cake I had didn't even have eggs." He looks you in the eye, "rationing." 

"Oh, right," you heave. You forget he's technically older than you. That serum has surely helped. "Well, I hope you enjoy it." 

"I'm sure I will. It's almost a shame to eat it. It's so nice," he says. "At least, it would be a shame to eat it al--" 

"There you are!" A voice calls from the doorway. "Did you forget?" 

You look over at Nat as she puts her hand on her perfectly curved hip. Even in street clothes, you can tell she has an hourglass figure. And she's stunning with her bold red hair and porcelain complexion. 

"I didn't forget," he rebuffs and sends you a goofy smile. "Girlfriends." 

"Ha, right," you sidle away awkwardly and go back to the lab table. He crosses to Nat as she stands by the door. 

"Whatever," she drawls. "Oh, what's that?" 

"Cake. My cake," he insists and holds the container out of her grasp. 

You peek up as he raises his hand and meet Nat's eyes. You blanch. She tilts her head slightly. You offer a weak smile. 

"Just see if you can keep it from me," she returns her attention to him with a snarl. "I mean, we were planning on wrestling anyway." 

She grabs the front of his tee shirt and pulls him to her. She stands on her toes and pushes her lips to his as he angles down to meet her. You quickly look at the forgotten report and search for your notes.  

Ugh, you are so lame. You really thought you'd outgrown crushes. Well, time heals everything, doesn't it? That man is all the proof you need of that. 

🧁

You look at the clock and sigh. You did it again. Time is your nemesis, always eluding you. You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. If you head out now, you might actually get some sleep.  

You open your locker and slide the tablet into your burgundy leather bag. You wish you were as sophisticated as you seemed. From the outside, you have a degree, several, you splurge on labels, you always have good food...  

But you don't do anything. You don't go out with friends. You don't have friends. You have acquaintances.  

A subtle swish prickles your hackles. You peer over as the lab door opens. You fumble your bag at the figure there.  

Bucky cradles his face as he looks around with his uncovered eye. He winces as he sees you and enters, "thank god you're here, doc, think I need stitches."  

"Stitches?" You grimace and put your bag back on the shelf. "How on earth--"  

You hurry over to him as he chuckles, "yeah, I know. I always gotta ruin things."  

You tut and wave him over to the table. You open a drawer and take out a sanitizing wipe. "Let me see."  

He lowers his hand. His eye socket is already discoloured and there's a gash in his brow. Your eyes round.  

"What happened?" You reach to dab away the blood gently.  

He groans, "well, you know, Russians and their vodka."  

You look him in the eye curiously. You continue to wipe away the blood. You try not to ogle him. How many times have you patched him up? Don't be a fool.

"Natasha?" You wonder.  

"Mhm. Well, I mean, she gets rough just typically... in a different context," he laughs again and the insinuation makes you twitch.  "We were arguing..."  

"Arguing," you echo as you toss the wipe and examine the cut. "No stitches. I can glue it shut."  

"Right," he nods, leaning in to give you a better angle. "Anyway, we were kidding around and it got a bit serious. She gets jealous easy, ya know?"  

You uncap the bottle and place a hand gentle on his head, framing his brow. You're as careful as you can be. He hardly seems bothered. You apply the glue precisely.  

"Jealous?" You prompt.  

"Ha, yeah, funny thing," he clucks. "She's jealous of you."  

"Me?" You put the glue away and snort. You busy yourself as you tuck the kit away then go to wash your hands. You feel him watching.  

"That cake you made me. I might have been drooling over it," he says. "You're a hell of a baker. You got a degree in that too?"  

You roll your eyes then face him, once more startled to find him close. You steady yourself as you lean on the table behind you.  

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," you murmur, clearing your throat as it clenches. "You know, it's not my place but she did some nasty work on you."  

"Yeah, she did," he touches his brow and winces. "But you got me, doc. Like always."  

"Yep, well, you're all good, so..."  

You realise how close he is. It would be hard to slip by without brushing him. You freeze and stare at him, confused.  

"I think you forgot something," he says.  

Your brows knit and your lips downturn, "I did?"  

"Yeah," he runs his knuckles up your arm, "aren't you going to kiss it better?"  

You blink. Then you guffaw. Then you feel horribly dumb.  

"Don't be silly," you catch his hand as it crawls along your shoulder.  

He doesn't stop. He flicks your fingers away and tickles your neck. You gulp and lean away.  

"Not being silly," he grabs your chin, his grip firm. "I'm serious. I think it would help," he grins.  

"I don't... alright. I think it's late and I--"  

"Those lips have gotta be just as tender as those hands," he stretches his thumb up to touch your lips. You shiver.   

"Bucky," you say appeasingly. You have to be asleep at the table, dreaming again.  

"You think I can't hear your heart hitch every time I walk in? Hm?" He steps closer to loom over you, "think I can't smell it in your sweat? That I can't smell you getting wet--"  

"Stop! Stop, please," you try to pull away from his hand. "Bucky, that's... please."  

"A little kiss," he growls. "Just here."  

He lets you go and traces the cut. You quiver, blood surging, skin alight. You slowly hover closer and press your lips to his brow. He hums.  

He pulls away. He's too quick for you to elude. You have to no time to react as he takes you off your feet. 

His hands are on your hips. You wriggle. You’re overly conscious of the extra cushion there as his fingers curl into it. You yelp. 

“Please, Bucky,” you push on his hands.  

“I know you want me,” he snarls as he slides his fingers under your ass, groping you as he pushes between your knees. 

“Bucky, it’s just--” 

“It’s just...” he interjects as he leans in until his nose touches yours, “my birthday and I know exactly what I want.” 

[ironwinters]

just thinking of cute, happy, and secure Bucky being able to yap as much as he wants.

in day to day life, especially where anything professional or serious is concerned, bucky was a quiet and stoic man. this followed into the beginnings of your relationship as well. the first three dates you were lucky to get more than four full sentences out of the man. he preferred to listen, to assess, to learn. he was sure you'd get tired of carrying the conversations eventually and maybe figure out you were better to look for a partner elsewhere.

nope. you were stubborn in that way. you never gave up on trying to break this once broken man out of his shell.

eventually over the course of months, with some gentle coaxing, it was almost hard to get bucky to stop talking. he'd tell you about his family, funny stories he cherished of his friends and sister, his once small but at the same time bigger-than-life best friend steve, how life was rough but still good in the 40's. he'd tell you about his days at work, about missions, about how Sam nearly drove him insane that one day but he'd still take a bullet for the man without a second thought. he'd tell you about the small white stray he befriended during lunch, and his plotted out plan to capture the little animal to give it a good home, with your help of course.

you got a front row seat to all that is james "bucky" barnes; the good, bad, and ugly.

and you'd never change a thing.