#bucky barnes x hurt!reader

[bucky-bucket-barnes]

Ok I have a angst requests. Unrequited love cause I like to hurt myself,but reader is the one in love with bucky. You can do a sad or happy ending its up to you

the cure

Pairings: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

Warnings: so much angst, hurt comfort, arguing, swearing, minor depictions of violence, blood, slow burn, and some fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

masterlist

Thick blood pooled in your hand, gathering like an expensive wine, traversing the lines in your palms before dripping thickly down onto the pavement below. A piece of broken glass had scathed at your hand as you were climbing out a window in an attempt to leave the building swiftly. While you should have been more concerned about the risk of tetanus or the multitude of other blood diseases you had just exposed yourself to, the thought of those didn’t trouble you much. 

Bucky. He was the first thing to cross your mind. You knew he’d fuss once he saw the blood pouring out of your hand, insisting, practically begging to help. It felt awful to admit, but his attention was addicting. 

He was always so much sweeter when you were hurting, so much softer. Instead of fretting over your injury, you fantasized about it. The panic that would descend in Bucky’s eyes, clouding his pupils, the tenderness in which he’d offer to wrap your hand. The maddening satisfaction that he cared about you deeply enough to worry. 

It was masochistic, it was sick. Sometimes you thought you were sick. But you hadn’t gotten hurt on purpose, of course not, this was just an added benefit to the pain. 

On cue, he rounded the corner, huffing out, “Alright, I got the hard drive we needed, let's head out before the cops show up.” 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you outstretched your palm toward his direction, like a beggar reaching for alms. You studied his face, nipped and bitten red by the cold night air, the way his brows furrowed at the revelation. Even in the modest light of the alleyway, you could see the concern melt into his face. 

“Oh, doll, what happened?” Bucky asked softly into the night, gently taking your hand to inspect for any further damage. Sirens were nearing in the background, the breeze whispered against your skin, causing a shiver to travel down your spine. 

Doll, he called me doll. 

That was his pet name for you, sparsely used except on the occasion when he believed you needed an extra bit of kindness from his direction. Doll was reserved for severely scraped knees, sprained ankles, nasty bruises on the arm, and, now, for glass in your hand. Your actual name was for all other occasions, for casual conversations, late-night talks on the roof, and group settings. You hated it.  

“Did you scrape anything else? Are you okay to walk?”

I could fly if you’d ask. 

“Yeah, I’m good. My hand needs help though,” you answered. He tugged at his shirt sleeve, ripping off a decent chunk of fabric near his wrist. 

“I don’t think anything got stuck in there, but I’ll take you to the Med Bay just to be sure.” He wrapped the blue fabric around your hand as he spoke. 

Just as quickly as you had caught him, he was slipping through your fingers. He’d drop you off and in the morning he’d be normal Bucky. Not mean or cruel but something much worse; disinterested. Your attention would be thrown towards another person as you floated in the background like a forgotten shadow. 

“Could you bandage it when we get home? I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.”

Bucky shot you a concerned look before studying your face more. “If that’s what you want, doll.” A weak smile cracked on his face before his face returned with worry. He went to wipe a small smudge of dried blood that clung to your forehead. Momentarily, you convinced yourself he was going to lean in for a kiss. 

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he added gently, wrapping your hand before ushering you into your getaway vehicle. 

Your heart tightened in your chest as your throat stung with disappointment. He would be yours for the night. You silently tried to convince yourself that this would be the last time you’d reach for his attention. This isn’t love, this is pity. He was being a good friend, a dutiful soldier. 

“You’re going to worry me to death, you know that?” He glanced over as you attempted to put on your seatbelt. “Here,” he whispered, reaching across to adjust the buckle for you in fear your hand would start gushing more blood.

“Promise?” you sighed, gazing longly at his side profile as he began to drive. 

-

“Steve’s always moving the damn rubbing alcohol,” Bucky grumbled as he dug through the kitchen’s medicine cabinet. The lights above made a low humming noise, the only sound to accompany Bucky and you. 

The air felt thick as you sat patiently at the island, studying your hand in the warm light. Everyone else was either dead asleep or several states away, allowing Bucky and you to remain in the kitchen undisturbed. Alone. 

He sighed triumphantly, pulling out the faded grey bottle before ushering you over to the sink, “C’mere, we need to rinse it first.”

Shuffling out of your seat, you gently spoke, “Thanks, again, I really appreciate it.” The cold floor tickled against your bare feet, causing you to shiver lightly as you moved. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave my partner high and dry.” He guided your hand under the cool running water. By now, you had stopped actively bleeding. The blood had dried, floating down in flakes of browns and reds as it swirled around the sink before falling down the drain. Your eyes remained on the faucet, trying not to catch Bucky’s gaze that was barreling into your temples. 

Bucky’s hand was gently wrapped around your wrist in an attempt to control your quivering. The heat radiating from his body wasn’t enough to warm you up.“You’re shaking like a leaf, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Feeling your face grow warm, you cleared your throat. “I’m just cold, that’s all, Buck.” You swiftly moved your hand back to your side and silently reached to grab a paper towel. Part of you believed the longer he held onto you, the sooner he’d realize this odd game he was unknowingly partaking in. 

“Here,” he said softly, wrapping his jacket around your arms. “It’s not much, but it should keep you warm until you go to bed.” 

Mouthing a small thank you, you readjusted the leather around your arms. It smelled like his cologne, a warm coffee scent that lingered around all his clothing. 

Standing in silence, you turned to face Bucky, who was now just inches apart from your face. His eyes began to traverse your face inquisitively, as if he was trying to find a secret tucked between your eyebrows or hiding on your cheekbones. 

“Doll?” he lulled so quietly you weren’t sure if he had spoken. He reached for your hand, slowly dabbing the alcohol on your wound. He stopped for a second, eyes glancing up towards your face, waiting to see if you were flinching.

It was as if you couldn’t move. His stare alone had turned you to stone, bolting your tired feet into the tiled ground. Is he onto me? “Yes, Bucky?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it was just a scratch.”

“No, I meant is everything okay with us.” 

It felt like you were swallowing rocks as your mouth ran dry. He had a disappointed glint in his eyes as he awaited your response with bated breath. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The words fell seamlessly from your mouth, almost convincing yourself for a moment. Out of all the questions he could have prompted, this wasn’t the one you were expecting to tumble out of his mouth. He mindlessly gnawed at his lower lip, unsatisfied with your answer. 

Bucky slowly began to wrap a bandage around your hand. “Did I say something? For the past few weeks, I feel like you’ve been. . . distant. You don’t talk to me anymore, except on missions, and you’re quiet on those too. I thought you needed space, but now- now I’m not sure. What happened to us?”

Us, us, us, us, us, there is not us, stop saying us. 

Guilt was bubbling in your mouth as you clenched your jaw. You weren’t trying to hurt his feelings, you never were. 

“Life,” you shrugged. “You’ve been dating, I’ve just been more into work. We’re fine, though.” You smiled lightly, fighting back the burning shame that was rising in your throat. “I guess this is just what happens when you grow up.” 

“Y/N, I haven’t made it to a second date with anyone yet, you have nothing to worry about,” he reassured, taking your uninjured hand in his. “Our friendship means a lot to me, whoever I date knows you’re part of the package.” He was smiling, sure the misunderstanding had been cleared up by now. 

Your heart cracked when you heard your name. Doll was gone for the night, now in her place was what felt like a half-baked version of a person. Feelings of embarrassment and shame began flooding into your body again. This was you why didn’t say anything, held your tongue instead of telling him how you felt. 

Because you weren’t the girl he’d take out on dates. 

You weren’t even the girl he’d take to the movies.

No, you were who he came home to. Always waiting patiently for him to come back, like time froze when he wasn’t home. You were a stand in for whoever he’d find to take your place. 

“Thanks,” you could feel your voice dangerously close to faltering as you took off his jacket, shedding it like an old skin. You briskly made your way out of the kitchen, hoping he didn’t catch the deep set frown on your lips.  “Goodnight, Bucky,” you called back before making your way to your bedroom. 

It was humiliating letting someone have this much power over you. Even worse, he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care. 

“Goodnight,” Bucky murmured, eyes sadly gazing at the discarded jacket that now rested on the counter instead of your arms. 

-

Snow was softly collecting on the ground outside. Lazily, you remained curled up against your window, watching as the flakes descended from the sky and onto your backyard. A warm cup of tea was curled around your hands, warming your fingertips. 

Today is going to be a good day. 

A whole month had flown by and you hadn’t thought of him once. Well, not for long, anyways. Bucky was off on some secret operative mission in Eastern Europe while you remained in New York. It was easy to lose track of time in your endless hours of paperwork and countless mini investigations. When you weren’t working, your time was devoted to getting lost in museums and exploring any hole in the wall restaurant you could find by yourself. If no one was going to take you on a date, you’d decided you’d take yourself. 

I just needed some alone time. 

A gentle knock came from your door, you remained still, sure Natasha was just checking in. 

“It’s open,” you called out, still admiring the snow from the comfort of the heated indoors. 

I like this version of me. 

“Hey,” a familiar tone chimed out, warm and low. 

Your head snapped towards his direction, eyes widened with surprise. Bucky stood just feet away, a shy smile on his face, more than the usual amount of stubble peppering his face. The air felt thick all of a sudden, the walls too close together to breathe. 

“Your hair. It’s longer.” Was all you could manage to get out, gripping your cup so hard you thought it might break. 

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, self consciously running his hands through his chestnut locks. “I couldn’t really cut it for a while. I just showered and shaved, but I wanted to say hi.”

“It looks good,” you reassured, a familiar feeling rising in your chest. You couldn’t smile in return, instead a hesitant look still lingering on your face. 

He wasn’t supposed to be back this soon. Yes, you were glad he was home and more importantly that he came back in one piece, but you had been silently dreading his return for weeks. 

Things can’t go back to how they were. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Sure, I was about to lie down though, I’m feeling a bit tired.” 

Lie, your mind growled as he slowly walked in. He perched at the window sill besides you, gazing outside. The bright light of the snow reflected back on his features, slightly washing his face out. He was glowing. 

“You look paler.”

“You’re observant today,” he chuckled, turning to look at you. You quietly told yourself you wouldn’t look back, maintaining a faux interest on the outside scenery. 

A few minutes of silence passed between you two. It was peaceful and allotted your heart the chance to stop racing and the butterflies in your stomach to settle down. Sipping lightly at your tea, you could feel Bucky’s eyes back on you. 

“It was kind of lonely.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“I thought about you a lot.” 

You let his words hang in the air for a moment. Just a few weeks ago and you would have been vying for his attention, his secret affections he only exchanged when you were wounded. Now? You weren’t sure anymore. 

“I missed you everyday,” he cooed, gently going to place his hand on top of yours. 

Without thinking, you jerked yourself away, spilling the steaming peppermint tea all over your lap. A nasty hiss escaped your lips as you jumped off, praying the burning sensation would melt away as the liquid fell off your lap and onto the floor. 

Bucky was immediately on his feet, snatching the cup from your grasp before it could shatter to the ground and cause further issue. A firm arm had wrapped around your waist in an attempt to keep you on your unsteady feet. 

“Are you okay-”

“No!”

“Do you want me to-”

“No,” you corrected, shimmying yourself from his grasp. “No, I mean I’m done, I’m done with this.” 

His feet remained planted, unsure whether you wanted him to reach out or stand down. 

“You. . . you can’t keep doing this to me,” you sighed indignantly, clenching your hands in frustration, unsure where to channel your emotions. 

“Doll-” He had a honey like sorrow in his voice; sweet, slow. His eyebrows turned up in confusion and hurt. 

“Could you just stop! I can’t figure you out. One moment you’re sweet and telling me how much you missed me but then the next your off fucking some random girl before you come back home and play fucking nurse with me.” 

Venom was lingering in your voice as you spat out your frustrations at Bucky, months of built up resentment and anger finally boiling over. 

“Can we talk about this later, you just spilled boiling water all over yourself.” His calm tone only seemed to infuriate you more. He took slow steps towards you as if you’d jump out and bite his head off if he weren’t careful. 

“I’m fine!” you challenged back. The adrenaline coursing through your body was enough to distract you from the burning feeling on your thighs. 

“Clearly not,” he began to challenge back, exasperated. “You’re acting like I’ve just shot you, all I did was say I missed you. Is that not how you feel?” 

“Get out.”

“Doll.”

“Bucky, I know you’re not dumb,” you groaned out in frustration. “I’ve liked you for months and if everyone else has picked up on it, I’m sure you have too. You don’t have to like me back, but you don’t get to go around saying ‘I missed you’ and then act like I don’t fucking exist unless I’m bleeding or burned. You’re being mean to me.” 

“I can’t fucking read you at all.” It was his turn to bite back. An indignant scowl was situated on his face. “One moment you act like you can’t bandage you’re own fucking hand then you’re scurying away like some stray cat when I try to have a conversation. When you act like you want space, people usually try to give it to you, Y/N. I don’t think you even know how you feel.”

“I know you only give a fuck about me when I put on some stupid damsel in distress act. Do you know how that feels?” 

“And you only act like you’re not scared of me when you want attention. And I’m a fool enough to give it everytime. Do you know how that feels?”

He shot your own words back at you in a way that was so uniquely painful, you both stood there in silence, taking shallow breaths in after your screaming match. 

“Is that how you feel?” you asked matter-of-factly, voice steady. 

“I’m sorry-”

“That’s not an answer,” you said softly, the anger withering from your voice and replacing itself with an old fatigue. 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Bucky matched your low volume. It took everything he had in him to not step forward and pull you in a tight embrace, whispering sorry until his voice went hoarse. “I’m used to people being frightened. It hurts when you do it, though.”

“Your hookups don’t seem to be afraid.” You internally winced, wishing you would’ve phrased that better. 

“They’re not you.” 

“If you like me so much, why not ask me out?” 

Bucky took a moment to glance you over, tracing your outline with his eyes. You were inches away and he still felt like he missed you. 

“I have problems and three lifetimes worth of baggage. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re more than just collateral damage.” 

“We’ll hurt each other eventually. That’s life.”

“I don’t want to hurt you at all.” 

“Bucky,” you began to fiddle with your hands, hoping to avoid his eyes. “Maybe we should give each other some space.”

“But,” he desperately reached out for you, cupping your face lightly, anguished in his eyes, “I like you.” 

“But you don’t want to be with me. Liking me isn’t enough.” You were looking up at him, an injured look on your face. You couldn’t tell what was making your body ache more, this or the burn on your lap. Slowly, your hands went to rest atop of his before removing them from your face. 

“Are we still friends?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Can I at least get you an ice pack for your lap.”

“No, it’s okay. I take care of myself.”

-

Sunlight began streaming into the Grand Central Terminal, tickling against your skin as you walked around, luggage in hand. The snow was merciful enough to stop piling on the ground for a few days, allowing your 7 A.M. train to run on time. In under an hour you’d be boarding a one way trip to D.C. 

The new year had just begun, it was time for a fresh start. A start that was far enough from New York to make you forget about the city. The people who lingered about the city. A certain person from the city, to be more exact. 

A confused look settled on your face as you tried to find your exact stop before you drifted for the next half an hour at one of the local cafes. From the corner of your eye you could see something hurtling towards your direction in a frenzy. 

It was him, hair disheveled and face wild with surprise. Bucky looked like he had just rolled out of bed before coming here, sleep still desperately trying to cling to his eyes. 

There was no point in trying to duck in the crowd, he had his eyes locked on you as you stood. 

“Y/N,” he called out, hoping you’d echo back with his own name. 

“Bucky?” you spoke out, only loud enough for yourself to hear, his name a secret on your tongue.  

“Don’t get on that train,” he gasped out, trying to regain his breath as he stopped short in front of you. 

“I’m not, my train isn’t here for another 35 minutes.”

“Alright, give me a second then. Sam told me you were leaving this morning and I got here as fast as I could. I also just ran the past 10 blocks. Fucking traffic,” he huffed out, running an exasperated hand over his face in order to regain himself.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wait,” he pleaded, putting his hands out in defense. “Before you tell me to go away, I just needed to say something. Then you can curse me out all you want, I’d understand.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you mumbled, slightly wounded he was still ready for a fight even now.

“I’m a fucking idiot. Severely. Here I have, the most amazing woman I have ever met, who’s funny and kind and smart as well as beautiful and I was too much of a dumbass to treat her right. I’m insecure. I don’t like myself and I get scared that when other people get too close, they’ll see what I see, and they’ll want to go away.” 

You noted the passersby that were stopping to spectate your scene. “Bucky, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, I want you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend and I’m sorry I made you feel used. But I don’t want to lose you.” 

Time slowed, all of a sudden the air felt too light and no matter how much oxygen you sucked in, it was never enough to satisfy your lungs. The rise and fall of your chest felt like a shake, battering your organs as you breathed in and out. 

“Are you asking me to stay?” you asked, unsure what to do with this information. 

“I’m asking that you let me follow you wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s New York, D.C., or the middle of nowhere, I just want to be with you.”

A decent crowd had circled around the two of you by then like vultures, waiting for a murder. The grip you had on your suitcase seemed to slip from your fingers as you moved towards him. You threw your arms around his torso, taking in a deep breath; it was like you could breathe again. 

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he whispered against your temple before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, entangling his arms around your body. You could feel the way his body shook like a wilting flower, the excitement at which his heart thudded in his chest. 

“Let’s go home, Bucky.”

“Of course, doll.” 

[luna-lunera-morada]

Fireworks Go Boom

a/n: Just a good ol’ Bucky hurting the reader on accident and she forgives him. Cuz who doesn’t love some dramatics? (I think I need help)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader loves fireworks with all their heart and pulls Bucky along with them to watch them light up the night sky. But what happens when the sudden loud sounds flow through the ex-winter soldier?

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, violence, blood, injury, very slight language, fluff, protective tony

Word count: 1.9k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’ve never known how to explain it. Fireworks were something that you loved with all of your heart. Maybe you loved it so much because it kind of matched you. It’s so quiet while it’s building and rising but once it takes up too much energy it explodes. But the sudden burst of energy is so beautiful and you never know how it will look. What shape will it take? What colors will it have?

You have always rambled on to the team and Bucky about how much you loved fireworks and how you wished you could see them every day. The team usually just laughed at your obsession with powder exploding. What you didn’t see though was the way your boyfriend of a year cringed and tensed every time you mentioned the urge to go see fireworks. Given his past, he and Steve were somewhat sensitive to sudden loud noises and were both diagnosed with PTSD. You only knew vaguely about this diagnosis. Whenever you asked Bucky to talk more about it he would cower away, so you never pushed further.

You and Bucky are huddled together on an armchair while Steve, Wanda, Sam, Bruce, and Peter litter the couches surrounding the flatscreen. It was Parker’s turn for movie night so all of you were stuck watching Star Wars. You sat cuddled on Bucky’s lap drifting to sleep while he ran his hand up and down your back. He stared down at your peaceful face. Your slow breaths go in and out so softly. This is a sight that he will always love and never wants it to end. But when does he ever get what he wants?

Tony strides into the living room. “Hey, Squirt!”

You wake up with a jolt in Bucky’s arms and his grip tightens around your frame. He glares at Tony, angered that he woke you up. You rub your eyes and sit up in Bucky’s lap. “Yeah Tones?”

Tony had been like a big, at times overprotective, brother to you. He was the first one to take you under his wing when you joined the team. He cared for you more than you knew. “There’s gonna be some 4th of July fireworks in a couple of minutes and the roof has a pretty good view. You wanna go?” You gasp in excitement and stand, pulling Bucky up with you. “What! Yes, yes let’s go!”

Bucky doesn’t know what to do. Should he tell her? He looks over to Steve who already has eyes on his worried friend. He makes a hand gesture rising up and down following his deep breaths. He mouths the word, “Breathe.” Bucky nods and takes a deep breath, then another. You turn around on your heels and he plasters a fake smile on his face.

Tony was right, the view from the hangar is beautiful. Almost every star in the sky shines with such clearness. Bucky wraps his left arm around your waist. “Oh, Buck look!” You point to a star shooting across the sky. “Make a wish!” He looks down to see your eyes squinted shut. “I have my wish right here.” Your cheeks heat up with blush as Bucky lifts your chin to peck a kiss on your lips. “You’re such a ladies man.” He chuckles and looks back out to the sky. “Only for you, doll.” You rest your head on his shoulder and wait for the fireworks to start.

Steve quietly comes up behind Bucky and places a pair of earplugs into his hand. Bucky gives a silent grateful nod and places the pieces of foam into his ears. He has no idea if these small things will help him but it’s too late to question it. You point to the tiny line flying up into the sky. Bucky tenses and prepares for the sound. The same word repeats itself in his mind. Breathe, just breathe. He looks down at you. The brightest smile adorns your face. He ruined a lot of things for people, but he won’t ruin this for you.

The first firework bursts into beautiful bright colors. Bucky goes still and his grip around you tightens. Red sparkles shine throughout the sky. The next firework sounds with a boom and his grip tightens even more. A plain white firework glitters in the night sky. You feel the change of pressure around your hip and look up to him. “Hey, are you ok? You’re kind of hurting me, Buck.” His eyes follow the next firework making its way into the sky. They’re filled with fear like he isn’t all there. Boom. Glowing blue shines across each face watching the show. Bucky’s metal arm whirs and grows tighter. You wince. “OUCH BUCKY LET GO!” You try to pry yourself from his grasp but it’s no use. Three trails of smoke rise into the sky.

BOOM.

The sound rumbles through the floor and shakes into his bones. “GET DOWN!”, he yells and tackles you to the floor. The full force of the winter soldier sends your head straight to the hard floor with a loud crack. His body shields you from any potential harm in his mind. “BUCK!” Steve yells and puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder attempting to lift him up but he is met with a swing of vibranium to his stomach. Tony activates a part of his suit just covering his hand, pointing his open palm at the soldier. He turns to Wanda, “Calm him down!” She steps forward and forces her magic into the soldier’s mind sending him to sleep. He falls limp onto your body and a gasp of strained pain leaves your throat. Steve pulls the 260-pound body off of you.

Tony comes to kneel by your side. “Y/N are you okay?” You squeeze your eyes shut. “My head really hurts.” He looks down to examine your head. Blood starts to seep through your hair creating a small puddle. “Shit! Y/N keep your eyes open okay honey?” The pounding in your head starts to grow stronger. A sense of peace starts to drive itself through your body with your eyelids growing heavier. “Tones. I’m tired.” He turns to Bruce. “Meet me in the medbay.” Bruce sprints inside the compound. “C’mon you’re gonna be alright.” He says, picking you up bridal style. The sudden change in movement and elevation brought a burst of darkness to your mind. You were out like a light. Was this what being a firework felt like?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“When are they going to wake up?”

“You know I can’t tell you for certain Tony.”

“Well give me something! They’ve been out for the past two fucking days!”

Who? You? Oh shit, wake up, wake up. You muster up any energy you possibly can and move your finger. It went unnoticed by some, but one. Bruce spots the small movement from the corner of his eye and stares at your figure.

“Language.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit Cap.”

“Let’s just calm down a bit.”

“Calm down? Calm down! I’ll calm down when you put his ass back in the freezer.”

You feel a gloved hand on your forehead.

“She’s waking up.”

Your eyes open slightly to a blinding light and squint. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes.

“Bruce, turn down the lights.”

The brightness dims and your eyes open, adjusting your sight to the room, Steve hovers next to the door while Tony and Bruce stand at your bedside. A dull thumping in your head grows stronger. You bring a hand up to hold your head but feel something wrapped around it. Steve slips out of the room as Bruce checks your IV. “How are you feeling Y/N?” You can’t muster out a response. The room feels like it’s pulsing and spinning. You know what you want to say but why can’t the words come out? You open your mouth to speak but a breathy groan comes out instead. Tony leans down and brushes the hair out of your face and kisses the crown of your head. “Take your time sweetie.” You take a minute to yourself and take a few deep breaths. “I feel like I got hit by a bus.” They both chuckle. “Well, you could say that. It turns out you have a little skull fracture.” You turn with wide eyes to Bruce. “You’ll be fine, nothing too serious. You just need lots and lots of rest.”

You start to remember the incident that put you in this bright room. “Where’s Bucky? Is he okay? What happened to him?” Tony tilts his head in annoyance. A knock from the door makes all heads turn. Steve stands, leaning against the frame. “He wants to see her.” Tony makes his way across the room to stand face-to-face with him. “If you think I’m gonna let him near her ever again you’re sure fucked in the head, Rogers.” From the far corner of the room you mumble. “Don’t curse in front of Steve.” Tony turns to look at you, seeing your pleading eyes is something he could never refuse. “Tony please, you know he didn’t mean it.”

He walks over to your bedside, “Fine, but the second he does something I swear-”

“I’ll be fine.”

He leans down to kiss her forehead. “Okay,” he whispers.

Steve and Tony walk out of the room leaving you with Bruce. He picks up a tablet connected to your monitor and holds it up. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” You smile, “Thanks, Bruce.” He quickly nods with a smile and leaves the room.

After a couple of seconds, Bucky comes around the corner and sees your weary body on the hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around your head. He rushes and kneels beside you and brings your hand to his lips. You can feel the hot tears streaming down your knuckles. He rests his forehead on your hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles over and over again like a prayer. You move your hand to cup his face. He leans closer into your touch. “It’s not your fault Bucky and you know that.” He stands and runs his left hand through his hair. “Don’t say that! How is this not my fault? I hurt you!”

You sigh and push your head further into the pillow holding you up. He takes a seat on the bed and pulls your legs into his lap. “I’m going to be better, I’m going to start seeing Dr. Raynor again, I’ll figure out how to be normal.” You look into his eyes. How could he think this was his fault? “Buck, I’m glad that you want to better yourself but don’t let me be the cause of that.”

He massages your leg, letting any tension that was once held there disappear. “You will be the cause for anything and everything I do, and I promise you, I will never hurt you again. I love you too much to see you in pain, and knowing that I’m the one that caused it…” He takes a shaky breath. “I can’t live with myself like that.” You pat the spot next to you. He lays by your side draping an arm over you. “This was just an accident. Don’t get yourself so worked up over this. What you lived before still has an effect on you now and that’s not unexpected. I knew what I signed up for when we started seeing each other, but my love for you will always let me see you as you truly are. The kindest person I’ve ever met and someone that will go to the ends of the earth to do the right thing for the people he loves.” He pulls you in closer and places a kiss on the back of your head. “I don’t deserve you.”

“We deserve each other.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: AHH thank you guys so much for the support. I’m honestly taking all of my maladaptive daydreaming stories and turning them into fics lmao. Don’t forget that my request box is open! I’ll be happy to write anything! Try to lean it toward Bucky and/or Steve x reader cuz that’s my strong suit but I’ll write anything Marvel if you guys ask me to. Thanks!

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[aquaticmercy]

Hot Chocolate?

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

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)

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

Requested by : myself again 

Word count : 1.4k

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

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

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

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

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

It was empty.

You weren’t there.

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

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

Had you left him? 

What did he do? 

Had he driven you away?

Was this it?

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

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

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

He walked towards the kitchen.

There you were.

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

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

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

You were here. You hadn’t left. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-end

[yourmidnightlover]

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

pt 2 -> control

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite. 

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 

-

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 

and then there was a knock at the door. 

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Bucky and Touch Headcanons

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Just some Headcanons about Bucky and learning to trust human contact again

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, Bucky’s trauma, abuse at the hands of HYDRA, insecurities, self conscious Bucky, pet names, no y/n used, no pronouns used beyond "you"

A/N: if you haven't noticed I definitely have a type when it comes to fic and that fic is hurt/comfort with Bucky. I kinda feel like everything I've written is like the same thing in different fonts, but oh well 😅 anyways, Bucky re-learning that hands on his body doesn’t inherently mean pain and becoming super cuddly and touchy with someone he loves is my SHIT inject that into my VEINS man

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

It takes Bucky a really long time to get accustomed to human contact again, after you two got together it took him a while to even do something so innocent as hold your hand.

It’s not that Bucky hates it

He loves being close to you, he wants it so badly

And he’s touch-starved

He’s so touch-starved

But he went so long without positive human contact, and now that he’s free he wanted it so badly he could feel his chest aching for it

But it made him so nervous to want to try

After one night where you mindlessly reached up to casually touch his face and he flinched away hard, after all open hand coming towards his face had meant pain for so long, you two had a long conversation about his comfort levels

You two took things slow initially

You would sit on the couch together, watching a movie and talking with your fingers intertwined, your thumb stroking his knuckles.

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder, something he’s slowly started to accept

At the very least he’s stopped freezing when he feels your head droop to his arm

But now that he’s grown used to it and learned to love it? He wants to be touching you all the time

Bucky almost always has his arm around you, or a hand on your back, holding your hand, etc.

He would never admit it to anyone but you, but he’s SUCH a little spoon.

Bucky loves when you hold him, resting his head on your chest while you rub his back brings him a level of calm that he’s never felt before

Or when you hold him from behind and he curls into your body

You slip your hand under his shirt and run your hands along his tummy, gently stroking your fingers along his skin

You know he’s a lot larger than you, being a wall of muscle that has at least a head of height on you

But seeing him sleeping peacefully, wrapped in your arms with a little smile on his face he looks so small

He loves when you play with his hair.

It took him a long time to be okay with it (too many memories of handlers grabbing and/or dragging him by the hair), but now?

If he had it his way your hands would never leave it

Whenever you two are holding each other your hands always seem to find their way to his dark locks, brushing them out of his eyes or carding your fingers through it

You learned that the quickest way to get him to fall asleep is to stroke his hair, and put him to sleep like that every night

When it was long, Bucky loved when you combed it for him after a shower, or braided and unbraided it while he laid in your lap during a movie

Now that it’s cut short (thanks to you, he didn’t trust anyone else to do it) you’re pretty much always playing with it in some way

As much as you loved his long hair, his shorter cut is nice because it’s a bit more manageable and still just as soft

Bucky loves when you massage his scalp, feeling your nails gently scratching against his head makes him melt every time

He also loves when you bathe him or bathe with him

Bucky had a lot of anxiety around being naked in front of you, too many bad memories of being stripped and hosed down after missions or beaten within an inch of his life

But with lots of time and comfort and assurances he eventually opened up and got more comfortable

Long baths with you are his favorite thing.

Whether you get in with him or not, he loves how gentle you are with washing his body, massaging sore muscles and peppering his chest and back with little kisses

He especially loves when you wash his hair (I know, shocking).

Usually when you’re done washing him you’ll guide his head to lay in your lap while you stroke his hair.

When it’s time for him to get out you usually have to wake him up, it makes you smile

Peace looks so good on him, you just want to let him bask in it forever

And oh GOD he loves skin-on-skin contact so much

It took so long for Bucky to learn that he was allowed to want things

When he first started opening up with touch, he would wait until the aching in his chest got unbearable before asking if you would do some skin-on-skin with him

You never wanted to push him, but you tried to teach him that he was allowed to ask for things he didn't need immediately.

He didn't have to wait until he absolutely needed something to ask for it.

He was allowed to just want things.

Once he finally gets used to asking for things he wants skin-on-skin all the time.

Most every night you end up cuddled up in bed, sans clothing, Bucky pretty much on top of you, his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

He'll press little kisses to your chest, making you smile when his stubble tickles against your skin

“I love you,” he whispers into your neck, “how did I get so lucky, hm?”

You smile softly and kiss his forehead

“Believe me Buck, I'm the lucky one.”

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

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[buckyalpine]

I'm here for some angst and fluff rn. Bucky being sad no one trusts him after his metal arm is taken off during a fight.

-

Bucky stared at the dark grey metal that fell to the floor with a clank, his vibranium arm no longer attached to his body with just a few pushes to his joint. The fight ended, leaving the soldier lost as he picked his arm off the floor, fingers trembling around the cold material. It felt dead in his hand, the emotional weight of it far heavier than anything else he'd ever carried.

"Did you know they could do that?" Sam asked, eyeing Bucky carefully while he locked his arm in place, readjusting it with a swing. The gold plates shifted to recalibrate, his fingers flexing while trying to silence his thoughts that begin to run a million miles a minute.

"No"

Bucky trudged down the hall, his heart sinking when he could hear the soft humming from inside his apartment, his sweet girl already waiting for him to come home. He usually felt the weight of the world life off his shoulders when you were around.

Not today.

Not when he knew what he really was.

What he had been all along.

He let out a strained breath before rummaging for his keys and opening the door, the smell of tea, sugar and vanilla wafting through the kitchen and living room. He thought about escaping as soon as he toed his boots off, locking himself in the shower and calling it an early night, of course you'd understand but his body won over what his mind was screaming.

Your face lit up as soon as you heard the door creak open, setting down the book you were reading, excited to see Bucky after he'd been gone for days for a mission. Your happiness was short lived as he padded into the living room, the strained smile on his face doing nothing to mask the pain he was feeling. You could see the turmoil in his eyes, waves of emotion crashing over him before he could surface.

"What's wrong, bub" You coo softly, opening your arms for him. Bucky kept his jacket on, avoiding melting into your hold even though he craved it more than ever.

"Do people still think I'm dangerous?" He asks quietly, shifting away from you when he feels you pressed against his arm. Something so soft and sweet as you definitely didn't have any business being near something so terrible, disgusting, murderous-

"What? No baby, why would you say that?" Your heart breaks at the tears that begin to well in his eyes, his nose and cheeks reddening as he suppresses all the emotions that desperately want to bubble over.

"I-I had no idea others would be able to remove it" He whispers, chewing his lip till he nearly draws blood, avoiding your gaze to stare at the floor instead. The fluffy rug turns blurry as tears begin to escape, his throat growing unbearably tight. "M'still a monster" His voice cracks before the first cry slips out.

Your pull him into your chest as sobs begin to wrack his body, letting him lay on you while you wrap him safely in your arms. The feeling of your affection is too much for Bucky, he doesn't deserve it but he needs it; he feels selfish as he allows you to hold him, hiding his face into the crook of your neck.

"What happened, sweet boy" You coo against his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks. He continued to sniffle between whimpers, trying to calm down, fresh waves of emotion holding him down, his metal arm gripping onto the sofa cushions.

His arm was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

"During a fight" Bucky let out a shuddered breath before continuing, shame seeping through his veins. What would you think of him if you knew the people who had healed him still didn't trust him, "We were trying to calm things down. I didn't mean to do anything-I didn't-I was holding back, we wanted to talk things over, she-"

He bit his lip again as it trembled, still feelings the spots that were pushed, sending his arm to the floor, "I didn't even know what was happening. She hit my shoulder in a few spots and my arm fell right off"

You stopped your ministrations, your heart breaking into two hearing the pain in his voice. Bucky sounded so small, like an admonished child scared to tell the truth. He curled himself up further, still flexing his fingers, almost fearful his arm would fall off again without warning. You moved your arms to hug him tighter, wishing you could take away at least half the pain his was feeling.

"I didn't know they could do that" He said with defeat, still softly sniffling while you kissed the top of his head.

"You're not a monster baby" You knew how much work Bucky had put in, how much he struggled to get a hold of his mind again, how long it took for him to learn to trust others, to trust himself.

"Then why" You knew he was desperate hearing the plead in his voice. Why. Why did others still have control over his own body. Why were others still able to do things to him without his knowledge.

Why?

"I wish they'd told you why, baby boy" You brought your hand to gently tip his chin up, making him look at you, "Perhaps they have their reasons. Regardless, your heart is pure, Bucky" Your hands moved under his jacket and tshirt, stroking his bare skin, the feel of your pure hands already soothing his aching heart.

"They don't trust me" He sighed, sitting up again as his mind swirled. You didn't let him spiral for long, straddling his lap while his arms moved on their own to wrap around your waist.

"They do, bub" you shook your head, cupping his cheeks so he'd look at you. "They took you in and healed you because you were worth healing. You deserved it. I need you to remember my sweet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is a good man. The opposite of dangerous, a soft, sweet boy"

"Do-do you trust me" His voice was small again, looking at you through his lashes, nervously fidgeting with the hem of the Henley you'd stolen.

"I trust you with my life, Bucky" You took his metal hand, brushing your lips against the gold ridges before kissing each of his cool finger tips. "Every single part of you. Your mind. Your body. All of it"

The mental exhaustion of the day began to take it's toll as his eyes grew heavy, cuddling into you while you rocked him in a comfortable silence. You smiled at the soft snores you heard moments later as Bucky fell asleep in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, baby" you whispered, gently waking him and taking a quick warm shower before jumping into bed. He was right back in your arms as soon as you pulled the sheets back, the grating voices not so loud any more.

Regardless of what the world though, had you.

A pure sweet angel.

She trusted him.

That had to mean something.

It would be a long road of healing but at least his had his angel to guide him.

[delaber]

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that. 

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

[lokiswifeduh]

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

masterlist

Taglist:

@yeahyeahyeah23-blog @rinniereads123 @shortnloud @julvrs @unaxv @sapphirebarnes

[venusstorm]

𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞

Fearful that Bucky only likes you for your body, you finally gather the courage to tell him how you feel.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, oral, insecure!reader, mentions of body worshiping, angst, crying, hurt/comfort, fluff

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist | W/C: 733

̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ

Being jealous of something that was a part of you felt stupid, and yet, you fell victim to the blossoming insecurity.

You shifted slightly as Bucky spoke down to your pussy, mumbling incoherently as he slid his fingers through your slick folds. At first, it was endearing how much he worshiped you. Whispering how much he adored you between your thighs until you came around his sweet lips.

Until one day you felt disconnected – as if he was no longer worshiping you but solely what rested between your legs.

After hard days on the job, he wouldn't say a word. Would just slide open your legs and speak to your cunt in that sweet tone of his. "You're so pretty aren't you?" He'd sing. You knew he was talking about your pussy, so you never uttered a word in response besides loud whines and moans.

It continued like that for days and eventually, you grew tired of never being asked about your day. Missing the time when he’d rush home and the only thing he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms. When “my pretty baby” meant solely you.

You needed him to speak to you, to worship you face to face. As foolish as it seemed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he no longer saw you.

̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ

Tears sprung into your eyes as you tried to confess your feelings. You despised confrontation, and this was exactly why. No matter what emotion you felt, they were always accompanied by watery eyes. 

"Hey— hey, what's wrong sweetheart?" Bucky quickly joins you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you.

"What am I to you?" You whisper.

Bucky's taken aback. "My everything." He began to panic internally. Had he done something wrong? His worst fear was always disappointing you, hurting you. And seeing your face wet with tears as you question your relationship had his knees buckling.

"I feel like you don't care anymore," you hiccup.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you into a hug, kissing your forehead softly. He’s thankful you don’t pull away. "Please tell me what I did," he pleads.

You shake your head, laughing dishearteningly at how pathetic it would sound coming out of your mouth. "You know what. It's stupid I'm sorry. I'm just being overly sensitive."

His gaze hardens. "If it's enough to make you cry then it's not stupid. I just wanna help you, baby. Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

You inhale shakily before speaking, terrified that Bucky would find you needy and pathetic for what you were about to say. "You only want to speak to my fucking cunt, James. You come home and don't even speak to me sometimes. I— I feel like you're using me." Your eyes widen after the last sentence, afraid that you pushed it too far. You knew he would never use you but god you couldn't help but feel as if he were.

Another wave of tears streams down your face as you await his response. "M'sorry baby, I know you probably never meant to do that and I don't know, maybe it's nothing at all and I'm just being more whiny than usual. I'm sure nobody on earth has complained about their boyfriend speaking to their fucking cunt and—"

Your rambling is cut off as Bucky smashes his lips against yours, his arms pulling you tightly against him. "I'm so sorry," he groans. "You're completely right to be upset. I should've realized...I was just so caught up in my own shitty days that I failed to realize I'd come home and not ask about yours."

He couldn't even continue speaking, not when he was envisioning you thinking about how he possibly didn't love you. That he only cared about what was between your legs and not the beautiful personality and person in front of him. Bucky began to tear up, he couldn't hold you close enough.

"You mean everything to me, doll. I'm gonna start praising you face to face like I should've been all along."

You whimper against his hold. Thankful that he was so understanding of your needs. 

"I love you so much," he whispers. "Love you more than anything and anyone in the world." His eyes connect with yours in pure disbelief that he’s with the most gorgeous soul he’s ever met.

"I love you too Buck," you sigh happily.

[endo-bunny]

Sit Down Now and Rest

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Description: You had anxiety and depression, and Tony and Bruce were more than happy with getting you anxiety meds the moment that you asked. When you stop taking your meds, your mental health plummets and spirals as well as your physical health, and everyone notices. Don't worry though, they're there for you.

Pairing: (Platonic) Avengers x Teen!Reader

Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, sickness, fainting, dizziness, taking meds(both medicated and just vitamins/iron supplements), dehydration, insomnia, depressive and hurtful thoughts, reader doesn't talk very much in this, nicknames(Kiddo, Kid, Hun)

Word Count: 1,627

Note: I may or may not have written this with too much of myself being present… But it's fine! I also wrote this at like 2 in the morning so it's kinda rough but I just needed to get this typed out so here ya go! Also, the characters might be kinda ooc because I haven't watched any marvel movies in a little while but I've been hyper focused on fics with them lately so yea. And I am working on my tlou and tech fics, it's just hard to find the motivation to write them, but don't worry, I'm working on em.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

You were quick to notice that you stopped taking your meds. You knew that they helped you, but you couldn't get yourself to start the habit of taking them again. You wanted to, most definitely, but you couldn't. Every day was the same. Wake up, look at your meds, contemplate taking them, saying you'll take them later, go train, eat, and then not take them.

You also stopped taking them at night too. You had even set alarms so that you'd remember to take them, but it didn't help at all. Natasha was the first to notice that something was up, being the closest one with you. When she realized that something wasn't quite right, she made sure to keep a close eye on you. She was quick to pick up how dizzy you looked when you'd get up, sometimes not even being able to stay standing before you crumbled back onto the couch. You'd always play it off as if you just lost your footing but she and everyone else knew that that wasn't the case.

One morning you had gotten up much later than you had recently been getting up. When you checked the time, it was around two in the afternoon. You got up and went to the kitchen, feeling extremely hungry after forgetting, and also just not wanting dinner the night prior. When you arrived in the kitchen, Tony was there. He had kind of taken up the father role in your life.

The moment he saw that you had finally arose, he was quick to make a snarky comment in good fun, “Ah! The beast has finally awoken from their slumber, now off they go to find their beauty.”

You only roll your eyes, ignoring him. You felt exhausted, even though you got close to ten hours of sleep seeing as you fell asleep around 4 in the morning. You couldn't find anything easy to fix or that looked appetizing in the fridge or pantry so you just opted for a bottle of water that you would only take a sip or two of then leave with your other five almost full water bottles on your nightstand.

Before you could go back to the confines of your room, Tony had to ask you a question, “ Hey kiddo, did you take your meds?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting him to ask seeing as he hasn't asked in a real long time.

“Oh yea! I, um, took them earlier but fell back asleep. Yea, that's what I did!”

You try to make it seem like you weren't lying through your teeth, but weren't very successful because of how exhausted you were. However, before Tony could confront you, you book it to your room. You hide there for the rest of the day, not coming out for Dinner. Steve had come by to tell you that dinner was ready but you told him that you weren't very hungry as you just kept your

on the book that you had your nose in. You kept your light on all night, not feeling tired.

The next morning, Nat knocked on your door around eight, coming to get you so that you could train with her. When she opened your door, she saw you laying on your back staring up at the ceiling. You looked exhausted and had dark circles under your eyes. When Bat opened the door, you flung up in surprise. You hadn't heard her knocking so you weren't expecting for the door to randomly open. You couldn't tell who it was at first because your vision went fuzzy black as your body tried to accommodate the sudden movement that you caused. Nat waited for you to acknowledge her.

When you did after a couple seconds, you looked over at the time, confused. It had just been two the last time you looked at the clock. How could it be eight all of the sudden? You were brought out of your thoughts by Natasha trying to talk to you. You zoned back in, giving her a questioning look.

“I said, are you ok? You look exhausted Hun. I came by to get ya to come train but it looks like you need to rest for a couple days.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready and I'll be down and we can get to work in no time!”

She gave you a skeptical look but nodded, closing your door behind her.

When you got down to the training room, Bucky and Steve were there with Natasha. They smiled upon seeing you walk in. However, Bucky and Steve's bright smiles dropped upon looking at your figure. You were slouched, tired eyes not fully open and your eye bags were extremely dark.

Bucky was the first to point it out, “Hey Kid, you ok? You aren't looking too good.”

You only shrugged, your body aching and your throat feeling scratchy and sore for some reason.

As you're sparring with Natasha, you continuously have to stop the match because you go into coughing fits. As finish with your last coughing fit you go back to Natasha, but she's packing her stuff up.

“Wait, where are you going?” You're voice comes rather harsh and rude as you ask the red head.

“I think you should rest for the rest of the day Hun. I'll come check on you in a little while. But go take your meds and also some cough syrup and eat something.”

You didn't say anything as you grabbed your stuff and walked back to your room. This was stupid. It was just a little cold. You can still fight. You need to train. Deep down though you knew you needed to listen to her and do as she said. In the end, you don't. You go back to your room, take a sip or two of water, get a small snack and then sit down in the living room with a book.

You try to read it, but you can't stay focused for long enough to. Your mind is spiraling and racing. You kept replaying how training went. You were so pathetic. And rude. How could you be so rude? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You slam the book down onto the sofa, huffing.

You hadn't noticed that some of the others had joined you in the living room. They look up at you, surprised. They weren't used to seeing you like this. You tried to get up quickly, wanting to get away from this embarrassing situation.

The moment you get up, the world goes black, buzzing and ringing is the only thing you can hear as you collapse. You feel something picking you up and setting you down on the couch. You blink your eyes a couple times, slowly feeling sensation being restored in your body. You look around you and see that Bruce is coming over with a damp cloth and water. Nat has your head resting in her lap and Tony has your hand in his. They all look worried as they stare down at you. You hear gasped as Steve and Bucky walk in.

Questions are being thrown at you, too fast for you to comprehend. You instinctively put your hands on your ears, feeling overwhelmed. They all quiet down upon seeing this. Tony is the one to ask the questions from then on.

“Hey, it's ok. We're sorry, didn't mean to overwhelm ya like that. Can ya sit up?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed now. Tony nodded and Nat helped you sit up, allowing you to lean against her.

“Ok, drink some water, you're ok,” Tony hands you the water that Bruce had brought over as Bruce is wiping your face with the cold damp cloth.

“Ya feeling better?”

“Ya, I'm fine.”

“Have you been taking your meds, kid?”Tony doesn't hold back, knowing what it looks like when you don't take the meds that have been helping you produce what your body needs.

You sheepishly look down at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. You inhale sharply before shaking your head no.

They all sigh, Natasha being the one to talk this time, “Why haven't you been taking your meds, Hun?”

“I-I just don't want to… I don't like the feeling.”

They looked at each other, wondering what to say. As they look at each other, you go to stand up, but they make sure that you don't get up.

“Sit down now and rest,” Bucky's voice comes from behind you, his hands still on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry…” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

“You're forgiven kiddo, but ya gotta start taking your meds again.” Steve comes over and sits on the other side of you as he speaks.

“I know.”

“How bout I take my medication with ya? God knows that I haven't been taking it as much as I should be,” Tony chuckles as he tries to negotiate with you.

You didn't know if it would actually help you but you were open to the idea.

“Good, drink some more water. Now what do you want to watch? Hm? TV's all yours,” Tony stood up, giving you the TV remote as everyone decided to sit down on the couch.

You picked your comfort movie as you snuggled up with Steve and Nat. Tony had gotten you some actual food, and by the time the movie was over, you had drank all the water, ate all the food, fell asleep, and almost everyone else had fallen asleep as well. You felt safe with the people that cared about you all around you. You knew that this would be a journey, but you also knew that you weren't alone.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Tag list: @fakegingerrights @macchiato-dreaming22 @silnebula

[pietrobarnes]

It’s Okay Buck, I’m Okay

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (slight fluff at the end)

The room was dark, the moon casting a silver glow through the curtains. I lay beside Bucky, listening to his steady breathing. These moments of peace were precious, as his nights were often plagued with nightmares. I watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, feeling grateful for every second of tranquility he could get.

Suddenly, his breathing quickened, and he started to thrash. I knew the signs all too well. Another nightmare. My heart ached seeing him like this, trapped in the horrors of his past. Carefully, I placed my hand on his shoulder, hoping to soothe him awake without making things worse.

"Bucky, it's just a dream," I whispered softly, my voice trembling with concern. "It's me, Y/N."

But in his dream, Bucky was being attacked. His eyes flew open, filled with a wild panic I hadn't seen before. Before I could react, his metal arm shot up and wrapped around my throat, squeezing tightly. I gasped, my hands instinctively trying to pry his off, but his grip was like iron.

"Bucky, wake up!" I managed to choke out, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes were wide and unseeing, filled with terror and rage. His metal hand tightened around my neck, cutting off my air supply. I could feel the cold metal digging into my skin, the pressure building as I struggled to breathe. My vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.

"Bucky, it's me," I rasped, my voice barely audible. "Please, wake up.

He was still lost in his nightmare, his face contorted with fear and fury. The pressure on my throat increased, and I felt my strength ebbing away. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a desperate plea for air. I could feel the life slipping from me, my body growing weaker with each passing second.

"Bucky, please," I whispered, my voice hoarse and fading. "It's okay, Buck. I'm here. I love you."

My words were barely audible, and I wasn't sure if he could hear me. My vision darkened, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness. Summoning all my remaining energy, I let out a muffled scream, hoping against hope that someone would hear.

As if in response, the door creaked open. I saw a flash of Steve's silhouette in the doorway. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the scene.

"Bucky, wake up! That's Y/N!" Steve's voice boomed, filled with urgency.

Bucky's eyes flickered, confusion washing over his face as he slowly came to. When he realized what he was doing, his hand immediately released my throat. I collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath, my vision blurred with tears.

"Oh God, Y/N," Bucky's voice broke, filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know—"

Steve was already calling for Dr. Banner, and within moments, the room was filled with concerned faces. Thor gently lifted me, carrying me to the small medical room in the Avengers Tower.

As Dr. Banner and the others tended to me, Bucky stood by the door, his face etched with guilt and despair. I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it wasn't his fault, but I was too weak to speak.

After what felt like an eternity, I began to regain consciousness. Steve was by my side, his expression softening as he saw my eyes flutter open.

"Hey," he said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," I croaked, managing a weak smile.

"Do you want to see Bucky?" Steve asked, his voice cautious. "He's been beating himself up about what happened."

I nodded slowly. "Yes, I need to see him."

Steve motioned for Bucky to come in. As soon as he stepped into the room, he burst into tears, rushing to my side and dropping to his knees.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, his voice raw with emotion. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave me after this. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if you did, but I would understand."

I reached out, gently cupping his face in my hands. "Bucky, I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell in love with you. I'm not going anywhere."

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and disbelief. "You mean it? You're not leaving?"

"I mean it," I said firmly. "We'll get through this together. You're not alone."

Bucky's tears flowed freely as he leaned into my touch, his body shaking with emotion. "I don't deserve you, Y/N."

I smiled softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. "We're in this together, Bucky. Always."

In that moment, surrounded by the comforting presence of our friends and the love we shared, I knew we would find a way to overcome any nightmare. Together, we were stronger than the darkness that haunted him.

—————

Should I make a taglist?

[queers-gambit]

Damage Done

prompt: The Winter Soldier is activated and Bucky's lover is unlucky enough to be in proximity.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.4k+

note: oh, wow, Cherry wrote Bucky NOT in a Mafia AU?

warnings: takes place during Civil War, absolutely no plot - author just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. cursing, violence, established relationship, small angst, injury, blood, hurt and comfort, Winter Soldier antics, choking, abrupt ending, maybe domestic violence? it's the WS.

it's really not that bad, it's not terribly descriptive but still tread carefully if triggered by these topics.

"Keep them together," Agent Everett Ross commanded, a little man with a raging Napoleon Complex, gesturing at you and Bucky; the latter held in mobile, restrictive captivity. "He doesn't play nice if he doesn't see her, or so it's said," his eyes rolled.

"You're making a huge mistake!" You barked, struggling in the restraints they had you wrapped in.

"No, I don't think so," he sneered, approaching you as Bucky's unit kept moving. "I think the mistake was letting you out of anyone's sight. Tell me, how long have you been in cahoots with the Winter Soldier?"

"He's not the Winter Soldier anymore, you jackass, he's a person! A real, live human being! His name's James but he prefers Bucky! He likes plums," you were yanked away, still snarling, "his favorite color is blue, likes motorcycles, he has real guilt over his past transgressions, and you've got the wrong guy!"

"Oh, right, like you're the best judge of character," Ross laughed.

"Natasha! Nat! Fucking tell him!" You pleaded, struggling in the hold of the men who kept iron clad restraint on you and were starting to drag you away. "You've got the wrong guy! Bucky didn't do this! I wouldn't lie - not to you, Natasha! Tell him!"

"That's touching, really sweet," Ross mocked, rolling his eyes as you were finally overpowered and lead away.

"Hang on a second," Nat muttered, sharing a look with Tony. "Was her DNA or facial recognition anywhere at the UN? Anywhere near where the bomb was set off?"

"What's that matter - "

"Since they met, they've not parted ways," Nat spelled out. "He won't go anywhere without her - you, yourself, are keeping them together for interrogation - "

"It's just easier," Ross scoffed.

"No, you know..." She blinked in confusion, "You know, Bucky won't talk unless she's there - you know he'll be ten times as difficult if she's not in the room."

"So?"

"So, in the past two years, have you heard about him without her? Have you seen her without him?"

"Nobody's seen or heard from either of them," Ross shook his head.

"Exactly," she nodded, lungs tightening with nerves. "If you can't find evidence of her being in Vienna... Bucky might not be your guy... Besides, they're both trained to avoid cameras - "

"Mistakes are made," Ross waved off.

"Not by two highly trained assassins like them," she snapped. "Check the files, go back - look! Actually look, run her scans through facial recognition - if you don't find her, it wasn't Bucky."

"You're so sure?" Tony asked skeptically.

"I know her," Natasha nodded, "better than anyone. She's as good as my sister, she's as good as blood. I know her. I know she wouldn't run this risk - "

"Then you also know she wouldn't get caught," Ross laughed.

"Neither would Bucky."

The silence stretched, but Ross was stubborn; sneering at the Avengers and taking his leave with his own plan of action in mind. He left Tony and Natasha to deal with Sam and Steve as he went to observe the interrogation. When he got before the monitors, he watched as it took four different men to restrain you enough to hoist your locks up the wall until they were clicked in place by ultra-strength magnets.

You jostled, feeling the full extent of your containment, grunting when the pipe you were connected to shocked your entire system into submission. Everett Ross smirked at your pain; watching your tongue swipe over your teeth, arms high above your head, readjusting your weight in your feet, but otherwise, not moving.

Ross heard Bucky ask quietly, his eyes watching you carefully from inside the reinforced cell, "You okay, doll?"

"Looks like they learned from last time," you grit, the cuffs around your wrists electrified; charring your skin, making you grimace slightly in a veiled attempt to hide your pain from your lover.

"Don't fight, you'll make it worse," he advised softly, frowning, eyes glassy from restrained emotion.

"They could've at least put me in a bit more comfortable position," you sneered, glaring up at one of the cameras, shaking your head as if in disappointment.

"I don't think they want to play nice, sweetheart."

"Yeah, could've guessed that from when they arrested us," you shook your head, puckering your lips to gather the blood in your mouth; spitting it to the floor. "You good, baby?" You asked as the men who restrained you moved to plug in the power cell caging Bucky.

He nodded silently at you, bowing his head and letting his long locks curtain his face. You frowned, shifting again as you blindly felt your cuffs and designed a way to get free; watching the men stoically as they exited the room to make way for the psychologist. Your jaw clenched, the air smelling foul - alerting you that something wasn't quite right.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," the accented man greeted casually, standing at a single table in front of Bucky, you off to the side; chains rattling as your defenses flared. The psychologist smirked and greeted you, too, assuring your real identity was known - something that Natasha released to the world about two years ago when HYDRA sent Bucky after Cap in DC. You didn't fault her, in fact, you respected her move, and after getting out of the blown-to-shit base, you had run into the Winter Soldier... Beginning your epic love story, both of you on the run from authorities and higher powers.

You smuggled Bucky out of the country, using fake aliases that had yet to see the light of day and therefor, wasn't released in the files Nat published during her takedown of the compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. agency. He was appreciative, pondering how he was meant to go forward in a world he didn't know; so, you agreed to stick around for a bit to help settle him, and that bit turned into a couple of years - the two of you inseparable.

There was an incident in London that almost exposed you, but instead, it just shined a light on your new partnership. Captain American, Nat, Sam, shit - even Tony Stark himself was unable to catch up; your trail going cold, Nat knowing your Widow training was running the show and keeping you safe. Granted, she probably could've unraveled the web you had weaved - but the truth was, she didn't want to. So, she kept quiet. Leading you all here...

"I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you both," the man you'd come to know as Helmut Zemo continued; playing his part very well, but not well enough to convince you of his innocence. Something about the man rubbed you the wrong way. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked politely, feigning like you two had a choice. When he did, Zemo continued, "Your first name is James?"

He noted the way Bucky and you shared a look, both remaining silent. Zemo tried to assure, "I'm not here to judge you - either of you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" Continued silence, your head subtly shaking - an act only Bucky clocked. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky," he croaked, your sigh echoing around the room.

"Hm," Zemo nodded, "I take it, she doesn't want you to talk?"

"She wants me safe," Bucky answered stiffly.

"That is admirable," the psychologist offered kindly, "a great display of love, is it not?"

"Jesus Christ," you shook your head, offering a glare, "you went through all that schooling to ask stupid fucking questions? Might wanna get your money back."

Zemo chuckled after humming, "I am merely trying to establish the connection you two share. I hear it is rare to find one without the other, that you two have become, uh, joined at the hip?"

"I protect her," Bucky offered, sharing a long look with you, "and she protects me."

"An equal partnership, would you say?"

"Yes."

"Buck," you warned, wrists twisting to hold the cuffs; being zapped, making your jaw clench and the veins in your neck to bulge.

"It's all right," his voice sounded like it was being put through a grater. "We're caught, doll, it's all right."

You huffed, eyeing Zemo as his eyes flickered between you two. He nodded, making a note in his little book, "I was warned that you would be unwilling to cooperate without her present. Why is that?"

"She keeps me safe."

Zemo hummed, "So you've said, and yet... Here you both are..." You were ready to lash out, but the doctor changed course, "Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Your restraints zapped you again when you jolted forward as if to physically silence Zemo, Bucky's head snapping over and his eyes drooping in sympathy. "Told you not to move, it'll only get worse," he told you softly.

"He's asking questions that will get him killed," you snarled, gritting your teeth as the electric currents seized most of your energy. But it was worth it, finding a little weak spot and letting your mind devise a specific plan.

"You fear," Zemo continued, "that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. I feel it is safe to assume, uh, your lady is privy to your past experiences? Perhaps, you two have shared a couple?"

"Just leave her out of this," Bucky pleaded.

"Don't worry," he assured you both, tapping something on his tablet before looking back at Bucky with a sick recognition. "We only have to talk about one. One mission... That I know you," he nodded at you, "were not present for."

"Kinda game you playin', Doc?" You sneered. "Think anything he says will change my opinion about him?"

"No, no, I know your relationship is too strong for that," Zemo smiled. "So, it's not so much what he will say... But what he will do..."

"The fuck does that - "

But then, the lights went out; darkening the room save for the lights individual to Bucky's holding cell. You perked up, the electric currents halting as the cuffs died with the power and gave you an opportunity to begin working on your escape. As red panic lights flickered, Bucky questioned, "What the hell is this?"

"Why don't we discuss your home?" Zemo offered. "Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no," he reached into his satchel, revealing a red notebook the world thought long lost... Buried in snow... Forgotten in time. "I mean, your real home," Zemo removed his glasses as you frantically started working.

"No, no, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey, don't - fuck!" You grit, trying harder to free yourself. "Bucky - Bucky, don't listen - ah, Goddamnit!"

The man you now understood to be a fake psychologist stood with a little flashlight, opening the red notebook, and began repeating words in Russian that would activate the decommissioned Winter Soldier. Bucky had told you all about these words, begging you to provide a shield against them should they ever be uttered again; but you had prior knowledge, the Winter Soldier someone you had been debriefed on during your time with other secret agencies.

"Longing."

"No," Bucky whispered, head tilting back in panic as he felt his stomach curl in a familiar pattern.

"Bucky - don't fucking listen, please!" You begged, still working to free yourself.

"Rusted."

"Stop," Bucky pleaded, sounding in pain.

"Don't do this!" You pleaded to Zemo. "You're fucking hurting him, please, stop!"

"Seventeen."

"Stop!" Bucky barked, his vibranium hand clenching in anger and pain; the entire arm whirring from the flex of his muscle. He began to pant, a deep growl emitting above your panicked whimpers.

"Daybreak!"

"You have no idea what you're doing!" You raged, Bucky screaming in pain as his mind was forcibly sunk back into dark recesses of his past. "Don't - Bucky, baby, listen to me - don't fucking listen to him, please, please, baby, don't do this!"

He screamed, breaking free of the iron restraints that kept him seated in the reinforced, mobile cell. "Furnace!" Zemo continued, ignoring the pain and panic you and Bucky were both thrown into.

"Fucking stop, please! You don't understand!" You begged, freeing one hand and working in vain to unlatch the other. Bucky was out of his seat, anger coursing like a palpable rain over you all - him screaming as his metal arm worked to pound into the strengthened glass surrounding him.

"Nine!"

"Bucky, please, baby, please, don't do this!" You tried a new tactic, hoping you were enough to cut through the brainwashing - but how silly to imagine. Decades of trauma was washing over Bucky again and your little words couldn't cut through the barricades of his mind.

"Benign!"

"You stupid fucking little man!"

Zemo rounded around the cell, Bucky still pounding away at the glass. "Homecoming! One!"

"DON'T!"

"Freight car!"

You whimpered in fear when Bucky punched the entire door off the hinges, freeing him at last; but the words were spoken, the damage done. He crouched on the floor, Zemo pausing to take in the sight, slowly approaching Bucky as he stood upright; the jangling of your chains louder and more frantic as you tried to free your last wrist.

"Jesus Christ," you whispered, trying to divide focus between the two tasks of freeing yourself and protecting Bucky - but being terribly unsuccessful as you watched Zemo stand in front of your dead-eyed boyfriend.

What a ridiculous, mundane label to assign someone like Bucky.

In Russian, Zemo questioned, "Soldier?"

And in Russian, the man you loved answered, "Ready to comply."

Zemo demanded in English, "Mission report. December 16, 1991."

You whimpered in fear, listening to Bucky give the report that would haunt you for years to come. Just as he finished, you managed to get out of the cuffs, but the clanging of your freed restraints caught Zemo's attention - who smirked with abundant cruelty. "Don't," you warned, backing out of the room just as officers began to flood it.

It was a brutal fight, trying to stave off Bucky once in his Winter Soldier mindset. You grunted as he engaged you, men dead at your feet - the lucky ones just knocked out. You grit your teeth, trying to defend yourself as Bucky operated mechanically; doing what you could to protect yourself, but it wasn't enough.

Blows landed, punching and kicking one another in an equal match of strength and stamina.

"Seize her," Zemo demanded, and in the next moment, Bucky had you by the neck; an effort that made you wheeze and claw at his bionic hand.

"Bucky," you begged. "Baby - baby - it's me, it's me, please, don't, it's me! Don't do this, baby, please, come back to me. Come back!" You struggled in his grip, trying to pry his hand open, "Baby, please, please, come back to me," spit drooled from your lips as he squeezed tighter. "This isn't you!" You managed to squeeze out, tears surfacing. "Not anymore, don't let them win!"

"Shut her up, Solider," Zemo commanded in Russian, your eyes widening and trying to beg Bucky again before he was sending you into a wall. He marched up to you, grabbing your hair, and surging his balled up metal fist directly into the bridge of your nose, breaking it, head jolting backwards, and effectively knocking you out.

When you came back into consciousness, it was to Steve's worried face; his hands caressing your cheeks and begging, "You all right?"

"Fucking hell," you winced, reaching up to prod the tender spot on your head; revealing blood.

"Got your ass kicked, huh?" He frowned.

"Watch your language, Cap," you smirked, wincing when your face throbbed. "Shit, how bad is it?"

He looked you over, offering, "Definitely a broken nose."

"Goddamnit - where is he? Where's Bucky?"

"Help me," a voice pleaded from the next room, Zemo playing his part by splaying out on the floor like bait.

"Don't trust him, something ain't right about him, Steve," you whispered, waving him on as you sluggishly hoisted yourself up the wall to lean against it. "Kept asking about Siberia, asking about shit nobody should actually know."

"Get yourself safe," Steve told you swiftly, nodding at Sam; who was checking on the status of the other bodies around you.

"Just find him, Steve, he's lost in his own mind - a threat to himself," you panted, slowly standing.

"I know - "

"You don't know," you shook your head, wiping a trickle of blood from your temple, "but you're gonna have to do more than understand him right now, Steve."

"I've got this," he promised, watching you nod and limp away. You had just missed the action, Bucky overpowering both Sam and Steve; getting to a safety landing and running into Natasha, Tony, and Agent Sharon Carter.

"We'll hash our bullshit out later," you panted, "but for now - "

You heard a commotion behind you, flinching out of sight when Bucky made himself known and began taking down rogue agents unlucky enough to stand before the Winter Soldier.

"He have an off switch?" Nat asked.

"Not that I've found," you frowned. "Split up."

Tony tried to engage Bucky first, using a mobile Iron Man device he wore on his wrist that used sonics to disorient Bucky. It only worked to a small extent, the two exchanging a few blows, Bucky firing a bullet at Tony's face at pointblank range that was saved by his technologically advanced glasses. Bucky got the upper hand, sending Tony flying back, letting Sharon and Nat attack.

He disposed of them both easily, stumbling when you caught him off guard and wrapped your legs around him. Normally, you'd do anything to have your legs around him - but this wasn't one of those times. You exchanged several punches, blocking one another, going for disarming hits but being of equal challenge; leaving small cuts and blooming bruises on each other as if to prove the engagement. Natasha rejoined the fight, two Widows showing Bucky up on a few instances, but he was heaving her across the room as you swung onto his shoulders in an impressive acrobatic move.

You heaved your fists down in a repeated fashion on the top of his head, Bucky charging at one of the cafe tables; slamming you down and choking you again with his metal hand. Both your hands held his, legs up around his neck to try to keep him at a distance for relief on your windpipe.

Through a strangled breath, you managed, "You could at least recognize me!"

"Who said I don't?" He growled, reaching out to snap a piece of wood from a chair.

You tried to regain normal breath, wheezing, "This isn't you, baby, you are not this person anymore - you're not a psychotic, robot killer! You're a man - please!"

"You don't know a damn thing about me," he seethed.

"I know everything about you," you strangled, "and I know this isn't you. Come back to me, baby, please! Y-You can't let the demons win, Buck, please - fucking listen to me!" But he only raised the wooden shaft above his head. "BUCKY, DON'T!"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

You cried out shrilly when he jabbed the sharp wood into your shoulder, staking you to the table just as King T'Challa rushed onto the scene and stole your brainwashed boyfriend's attention. You hissed in pain, trying to yank the wood free but being unsuccessful; resulting in blood to splatter onto the tiled floor.

Hearing someone pant your name, you caught a glimpse of red and knew it was Nat, her face worried over yours a moment later. "Where's Bucky?" You coughed and winced in pain.

"Goin' up by the looks of it," she informed, "now hang on, this is gonna hurt. Want a belt to bite?"

"No, just do it, get it done, please," you panted, bracing yourself, and suddenly, without warning, your companion heaved the piercing shaft free from your flesh. Naturally, you cried out, groaning and clenching your jaw so tight, it nearly crushed your teeth into dust.

"Hey, you seen..." Sam arrived on scene, taking in your injury, "Holy shit, you good?"

"Yeah," you grunted, stumbling to your feet as blood bloomed into a bigger, brighter blemish on your tactical shirt. "We gotta go, Sam, we should get outta here."

"Hang on," Nat paused you two, your opposite hand holding your wound; her hands occupied by a smart device, "looks like Bucky tried to highjack a helicopter. Steve stopped him, but it resulted in them all crashing in the river."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "We gotta go find them."

"We need to get outta here, you know, away from the cops and agents," your head shook. "Get somewhere safe, away from this catastrophe. We'll regroup with Steve."

"Go," Nat permitted, "I won't say a word."

"You're one of a kind, Nat," you praised, pecking her cheek. "Let's go, Sam. And grab that First Aid kit," you pointed to the wall where the white box was mounted. He agreed and you lead the way out of the facility.

Bucky groaned as he woke up, head lulling back before realizing he couldn't move his metal arm; finding it clamped in industrial weights. Sam called you both to attention, but while Steve jogged over, you remained in your place out of sheer distress.

You only vaguely listened to the conversation, hands trembling as your shoulder was bandaged to prevent further injury or infection. You did what you could to patch up any injury, and when you heard your name, you dialed in; Bucky asking, "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"You don't remember?" Sam sneered.

"No..."

"You stabbed her," the Falcon growled.

"What? N-No, I-I-I couldn't've - I wouldn't!"

"You did," Steve confirmed, pity coloring his words. "Punched her out pretty well, choked her, too. Broke her nose..."

"Please - Steve, please, tell me I didn't."

"I'm sorry, Buck."

"That why she's not here? She's in a hospital?"

"Actually, no," Sam trailed, "she's just in the other room."

"She didn't want to come here?"

Steve sighed as Sam informed, "Don't think she wants to see you right now, man."

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"We know," Steve swiftly promised, nodding his head. "She knows it, too, you just have to give her some time."

Bucky looked utterly defeated, murmuring, "I scared her. Oh, my God, I scared her..."

"Gotta agree with you there."

"Sam," Steve reprimanded. "Look, Buck, she'll come around."

You waited until the two men left Bucky alone to regroup and stratify a new course of action. Slowly and almost sheepishly, you entered where Bucky was being kept, steps silent but he heard you anyways. His blue eyes flashed in concern as he met your gaze, mouth opening and closing as if words failed him.

"Doll," he finally breathed, "a-are you all right?"

"I'm okay."

"Don't bullshit me, how hard did I hit you? Steve said I broke your nose, I-I'm so sorry, doll, please believe me. What'd I do to your shoulder? Is that where I stabbed you?"

"Buck," you sighed, slowly squatting in front of him, "I need you to take a breath and know that I understand you were not in your right state of mind. You were forcibly triggered and sent back into that way of thinking, I know it wasn't you."

"I still hurt you, I still did it."

"Did you, though?" Your head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly, "Because I know my Bucky wouldn't hurt me, would never dare lay a hand on me - but the Winter Solider is a different story. You didn't do this, Buck, you weren't you."

"I can smell the fear on you."

"Well, yeah, it fuckin' scared me. I tried to stop that fake doctor, I tried to help, tried to save you and keep your safe. I'm sorry I was too slow, that I failed."

"You didn't fail anything, sweetheart... I-I failed you, I broke my promise to never hurt you."

"No, you didn't. The Winter Solider did all that, not my Bucky."

He frowned, repeating to ask softly, "Your Bucky?"

"My Bucky - the kind, charismatic, impossibly stubborn, kind hearted man I've loved the past couple of years who always gives me the crispiest fries, who has nightmares, who loves me unconditionally despite what I, too, have done in my past. And you know what I was doing out there while Sam and Steve talked to you?"

"What's that, doll?"

"Understanding that loving someone means loving their flaws, accepting them exactly as they are. So, while, yes, the Winter Solider scares the fuck outta me, he's still part of you and I can't authentically love you if I reject the Soldier."

His head shook "Your kindness is wasted on me."

"I think you should let me decide what's a waste and what's not when it comes to my own energy and emotion."

"I'm just gonna end up hurting you again. You're better off without me, baby, you and I both know you're better off keeping your distance. You should get out now while you still can."

"Not gonna happen. 'Cause you know what else I realized?" You reached up to caress his cheek, "I trust you beyond reasonable doubt, I trust you even if I'm afraid of the Winter Solider. I should've been faster, I should've helped you more, but I was powerless against that red notebook."

"You and I, both..."

You pet the cheek you were holding. "Buck, I know it was scary, I know how it must've felt being forced back into that mindset, but I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul - you're not gonna scare me off. Because I love you, Bucky, and every single part of you - whether choking me out or not. Whether I earn a broken nose or not."

"I'm so sorry. I-I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry, I hate that I hurt you. I'm so sorry, baby, I can't - I can't even put it in words how much I regret putting you in that position."

You smirked, "See? The Winter Soldier has no remorse, but my Bucky does." You gingerly reached out to curl his hair behind his ear. "My Bucky apologizes and takes accountability. There's no reason to not love that man - especially when he deserves it so much. Hey? Hear me? You deserve to be loved, too, Buck."

"And you deserve a man who doesn't run the risk of being turned into a psycho killing machine over a few measly words."

"I deserve to love my best friend, so let me do that. Say whatever you want, try to push me away - but I'm like a boomerang, baby, I'll just come right back."

"What kinda man puts his best girl in that kinda position? Who hurts the most important person in his life?"

"A man who endured decades of abuse," you laid your hands on either of his thighs, "a man who wasn't allowed control of his own mind. I can't - no, no, I won't fault you for that, Buck. Today wasn't your fault and I'll remind you of that as often as it takes. Don't you dare feel guilty because you didn't do this to me, okay? You didn't put me in any position - that fake fucking doctor did this, Agent Ross did this, special ops put us here. You, my sweet boy, didn't do anything to be at fault. You were trapped, but look at you now - freed, level headed, talking to me."

His eyes gleamed with a sheen of emotion, staring at the bloodied bandage wrapping your shoulder wound before his eyes danced over the bruising and other aftermath of your injuries. "I could've killed you," he muttered, tears filling his eyes.

"But you didn't - and surprisingly, neither did the Winter Soldier. Maybe there was a part of you still alive, wanting to refuse orders and not actually hurt me."

"Perhaps," he frowned. "I'm still so sorry, doll, I hate that I did this to you. It never should've happened."

Your head nodded, "I know, baby, and listen - I forgive you. Yeah? Hear me? I forgive you, this is in the past."

"Are you sure about me? You sure you wanna do this? Knowing I could flip a switch and hurt you - maybe even worse than today?"

"I'm sure about you, Buck," you agreed. "I don't wanna be without you, so, sign me up for whatever's to come."

"You might regret that."

"The only thing I could ever regret is abandoning you. I don't want to do this without you - I love our life together. In any world, in any lifetime, I'd still choose you. There's nothing that would make me regret you - regret being with you."

"You sure? I don't want to make you do anything out of your comfort."

"I love you, Bucky, yes, I'm sure. No matter what damage you think you might've caused, whatever damage has been done, I promise, that's not the truth. There's nothing about you that I could regret."

"Well, all that's left now is to get to Siberia, stop the other Winter Soldiers."

"And figure out a way to free your mind once and for all... It's what you deserve," you told him softly, rocking to your knees to meet his forehead with yours and caressing his cheek again. When you heard approaching footsteps, you sighed and pulled away from him to stand and turn, spying Sam and Steve. "C'mon, Cap, get him outta this. He's not gonna attack anyone," you requested, gesturing where your boyfriend was trapped.

"You sure?" Sam asked stiffly. "He did a real number on you alone. Not to mention all the other agents and cops he took out back there."

"He's good," you snapped, perking your brows at Steve, "and you two would do well not to throw what happened in his face, it wasn't his fault. So c'mon, free him, he's not a wild animal."

Steve agreed and lifted the machinery from Bucky's prosthetic, him instantly snatching it back and massaging where the joint met metal. Bucky stood with a set stare at Sam and Steve, as if anticipating them to lunge at him. His throat constricted, swelled with emotion when you stepped in front of him - posing barrier between the two Avengers and himself.

"You still got that phone on you?" Steve asked you softly.

"I do."

"Is it still unregistered?"

"You know it is. Who're we calling?"

"Reinforcements. We're gonna need help now that the Avengers will be looking for us. We gotta get to Siberia."

"Here," you agreed, unlocking the device and handing it over. "Who's first on your list?"

"Any Avenger who didn't sign the Sokovia Accords."

When he walked away with Sam again, you turned to face your lover directly; staring into swirling storms of baby blues. "You still with me?" You asked softly, reaching up to caress his hair again to push it behind his ear.

"Always. Got my six?"

"You know I do, baby," you smirked, stepping into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "We'll figure this out, together."

"Together," he agreed, sighing deeply and returning your embrace tightly. His flesh hand rose to hold the back of your head, bringing his lips down to lay a chaste kiss on the top of your head. His voice rattled quietly, "Thank you..."

"Hmm? For what, handsome?"

"Believing in me. It's nice to think we can end this torment."

You smiled up at him, "You deserve freedom, Bucky, and to live without this haunting fear."

"I don't know about 'deserving' it, sweetheart. Done a lot of things that would argue against that."

"Maybe against the Winter Soldier, but Bucky deserves the world. Deserves kindness, accommodation, love and understanding. Now," you smirked and sniffled, giving his waist another squeeze before releasing and pulling back, "get your head outta this pit and focus, we've got a long day ahead of us."

He agreed, letting you take his hand and lace fleshy fingers together in a tether. Sam's face remained stoic and passive, but when Steve saw you two, he couldn't help but smile. Two years he hunted for Bucky and just today, he's learned his best friend's been shacked up with you - a warmth blooming in his chest over the idea of you two finding one another and loving each other.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[aquaticmercy]

My Own Soul’s Warning

Summary : You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Violence, death, trauma, mentions of sex (not graphic), cursing. Rio Vidal makes an appearance. Angst with a happy ending. Fluff!!!!

Word count : 6.3k

Note : This fic was inspired by Agatha and Rio, though this has a much happier ending. Reader is the Spirit of Suffering, an immortal entity who shows herself to people in extreme physical and emotional suffering to help ease the pain. The title is inspired by the Killers song of the same name. The fic started in the 1940s and ends after FATWS. Enjoy!

The sequel to this story is out now!

The first time Bucky saw you, it was 1942. He was in the trenches, under the dim moonlight of Germany.

He was supposed to be Sergeant James Barnes, fighting to defend his country. But then? He was only selfishly fighting for his own life. 

The air was thick with the stench of mud, sweat, and blood. The world around him felt like a prison of haze and darkness— machine guns firing in the distance, the rumble of explosions shaking the ground underneath him. 

He knew it only took one mistake, one slip up, and this is how he would die.

He was tired beyond anything he’d ever felt before, his body crumbling after days without sleep. His body ached from wounds he hadn’t couldn’t treat— the infirmary was crowded, too crowded to even see the ‘small’ gushing cut on his forearm that didn’t feel so small right now. 

But he could take the physical pain. It was the gnawing fear that was the hardest to bear, creeping over him, curling around his ribs like a rope, tightening until it hurt to breathe.

Then, through the smoke and shadows, he saw you. 

You were just a figure at first, standing a few yards away. You were cloaked in the same darkness that had swallowed up his world. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed that you didn’t quite belong.

You were almost radiant, the flickering light from the fire catching on something otherworldly in your gaze. Bullets flew past you, going through your being as if you were only made of smoke.

You were watching him, silent and still. Your expression was carefully neutral, a warmth in your eyes that cut through the cold surrounding him.

He blinked, half-believing you were just a figment of his exhaustion.

When he opened his eyes again, you were still there, a steady presence in the middle of the chaos. Bucky felt a strange sense of peace swallow him, like the world had gone silent in the space between his heartbeat and your gaze. 

You didn’t say a word, but you didn’t need to. Just being there, in a place where everything was twisted and brutal and so fucking wrong, you felt like a sliver of peace in this nightmare that was wartime. 

Something deep in his gut told him that he wasn’t meant to understand who, or rather what, you were. And yet, he felt safer at the mere presence of you. Before he could reach out to test if you were real, you were gone— slipping away into the dark like a ghost.

—

The next time he saw you was when he was half-dead, bleeding out in the snow after the fall from the train. The pain was more than unbearable, raw and sharp and insufferable. His nerves burned, radiating from every shattered bone, every freezing inch of his numb skin. 

His vision blurred, the sky above flickering in and out of view as his mind faded in and out of consciousness. He wondered if this was going to be his death, a slow and dramatic fade to black he only ever saw in the movies Steve dragged him to.

Then he saw you again, standing in the snow.

The sight of you jolted him back to consciousness, just enough to cling to the edge of the living world. This time, there was no mistaking the look on your face— a look of concern. 

For a moment, he thought you must be an angel coming to collect him. 

You must be. 

There you were, silently watching him with that same expression of warmth he’d seen in the trenches.

He struggled to sit up to get a better look at you, every little movement sent pain shooting through him. Finally, he slumped back to the snow in defeat, breathing hard. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, nearly swallowed up by the howling wind.

The cold, harsh winter wasn’t a place for someone who looked as fragile as you, he thought.

You carefully took a step closer, as if unwilling to disturb him. There was a slight curve to your lips, something that could have been a smile but wasn’t quite, as you looked down at him. “I’m looking out for someone.”

He swallowed a strange lump in his throat, the sharp tang of fear and curiosity contrasting the cold bite of the freezing air. “Who?” His voice cracked, barely audible.

“You,” you said, your voice as quiet as a prayer.

It was such a simple answer, but it hit him like a wave. In the midst of all the pain, he suddenly felt relief. 

The hurt eased, the cold stung a little less.

He didn’t know if you were a dream, a ghost, or something beyond his understanding. But at that moment, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were there, that you had come for him. That he wasn’t alone. 

As his vision started to fade again and the darkness crept back, he realised you didn't leave any footprints in the snow. 

—

Bucky didn’t know why you kept showing up. 

Over the years, he felt your presence like his own shadow, drifting through the Hydra bases, the laboratories, the dark corners of the cell they kept him in between missions. The world around him was cold and sterile, a cage of steel where hope had no place, no right to exist.

Still, he saw you, quiet and watchful, a silhouette in the dim light. 

He would catch glimpses of you while the scientists strapped him to machines, the hum of needles piercing his flesh. You were there, watching over him, as they shocked cold electricity through his veins. Each time, his eyes would land on you, and you’d watch him from the far corner of the room, with that same calm, steady gaze.

Everytime his eyes locked on yours, the pain eased, even if only a little.

It became easier to take the torture.

It became easier to find rest.

Over time, Hydra erased his memories. 

Soon, he forgot his life. He forgot the people who used to love him, who grieved for him when he was lost. 

But he had never forgotten you. 

Maybe it was the first sign that you weren’t quite human.

One night, after a particularly brutal round of reprogramming, he saw you again, this time closer than ever before. 

You stood by his bedside, where he lay in the dark, barely clinging to sanity. He blinked, pain searing in his throat. He tried to reach for you, fingers trembling, and felt nothing.

“Where did you come from?” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, as he felt that comfort once again. 

The comfort he only had with you.

A soft smile touched your lips, something gentle and knowing. You were a light in the darkness of his fractured mind. “Far, far away from here.”

He closed his eyes, trying to etch your face to his memory, certain that if he did, he could take some small fragment of comfort back into the waking nightmare that was his brutal reality.

You knew, by the way his life was going, that you were going to see Bucky more and more.

It was the nature of your job, to look out for people like him.

After the next couple of visits, he started talking to you more and more— whenever he was left alone with his thoughts, whenever the pain or the hollow emptiness crept too close, he would search for you. 

And you’d be there, listening to the murmured secrets he’d never told another soul. 

He told himself you weren’t real, that he was just losing his grip on sanity, conjuring a kind face to stave off the horror. But that didn’t stop him from craving your presence.

—

Years later, he’d managed to break free of Hydra’s grip. He had carved out a life hiding in the far reaches of the world when he saw you again, as if you’d followed him through every corner of hell he’d tried to escape.

Romania was quiet, the kind of place where he could keep to himself. He had a run down studio apartment where the days blurred by and the silence was almost peaceful. 

Yet in that solitude, you appeared again, lingering in the shadow of an alleyway, or standing just beyond his view on quiet, empty streets. He’d catch your gaze through crowds when he was most alone, and he’d feel an overwhelming sense of calm, an unexplainable rush he could only have with you. 

It was on one of those quiet evenings, when he was washing dishes, that he saw you again, watching him from across the room. He stared, wiping his hands absently on the dish towel, still unsure if he was simply dreaming.

He called out in that soft voice of his, almost a whisper.

“Thank you for being here.” It was a simple admission, but it was true.

You tilted your head, that familiar gentleness in your eyes. “Always.” He replied.

The suffering he had recently was different— it wasnt physical as it usually was. It was an isolated sense of longing that broke the deepest parts of his heart, one that he couldn't quite heal himself.

Your warm and steady voice anchored him to the present. For the first time, he didn’t try to tell himself that you were a figment of his imagination. For just a moment, he let himself believe that you were standing there, real and alive, not just an invention of his lonely mind. 

And even as you disappeared, slipping away into the shadows, the feeling of your presence lingered, filling the emptiness around him.

—

The last rays of Wakanda’s sun slipped over the treetops, bathing everything in a warm, honeyed light that somehow reached even into the white-walled lab where Bucky was preparing himself for a long, cold sleep. 

He looked around, his gaze fixing on the distant horizon, the soft sounds of Shuri and the lab assistants moving in the background. 

He could feel his heart pounding. He was terrified, the horror clawing into him, even though he knew that this was the right decision. He knew that it was the safest thing for him to do— to go back in the ice until his trigger words could be removed.

It didn't stop the instinctive dread of being shut away again, though.

And then he saw you, standing behind a desk. He didn’t know how you’d gotten there, or if anyone else could even see you.

But there you were, just as you’d been so many times before, giving him a piece of calm he didn't quite understand.

For a long moment, he said nothing. He only looked at you. 

Somehow, you looked more real in this light, more human than he’d ever seen you before. Still, you had that hint of almost supernatural haze. He took a deep breath, feeling safer by the second, now that you were here.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, the words coming out like a whispered plea. He didn’t expect you to answer, not really.

His heart beat quicker as he waited, hoping you wouldn’t vanish as quickly this time.

You just smiled, that same soft, knowing smile you’d given him in the darkest hours of his life.

You nodded, “Only if you need me.”

The warmth of your words lingered in his mind as he took one last look at you. He felt the tension in his chest loosen, just enough to let him breathe again. He laid down, a feeling of peace settling over him. 

He closed his eyes, holding the memory of you close, feeling the faint impression of your smile stay with him as he drifted into the dark.

—

The next time he saw you, it was in the middle of another waking nightmare—the battlefield of Wakanda, chaos erupting in every direction as the forces of Thanos closed in. Bucky was fighting on pure instinct, his body moving with an instinct he’d learned in war. He drew on more and more on his Hydra training and sheer luck. 

After Thanos snapped, he saw you again. You were standing behind Steve, amongst the trees.

For the first time, your expression was not calm. You looked terrified. Your eyes, usually so steady, were wide, your face pale as you looked at him with a horror he’d never seen from you before.

Something inside him understood. He knew, even before the feeling swept over him—a strange tingling, a disintegration at the frayed edges of his body—that he was about to be turned to dust.

He tried to reach out, to touch you, to ask if he’d see you on the other side, but before he could say a word, he felt himself fade, slipping into nothingness, his best friend’s name the last thing he uttered.

—

When he returned—when the world pieced itself back together after five long years—he felt the dread of loneliness again. 

You came, though it felt like you carried a deeper sadness in your gaze than before. It was as if you had… missed him.

When Steve left, when Bucky watched his best friend walk away, disappearing into a life they’d both only dreamed of, he felt the emptiness he had left in his wake.

He stood there, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, feeling a hollow emptiness settle inside him, knowing he’d lost something irreplaceable, something that could never be returned when Steve decided to live a life he always wanted.

Then he saw you again, just a few steps next to him. He almost didn’t dare to look, afraid that you’d vanish if he did. When he finally turned, there you were, as calm as you’d always been, watching him with that familiar warmth and understanding.

“You’re not alone,” you murmured, your voice so gentle it felt like a medicine to the sickness of his soul.

He swallowed hard, nodding as he looked down. He tried to keep his composure, though he failed. 

He couldn’t bring himself to ask you who you truly were, if you truly knew the depth of what he’d lost, if you understood the kind of grief that was now carved so deeply inside him.

And you did. Grief was a human suffering, after all.

You stayed there, silent, a quiet witness to his pain as you offered a supernatural solace. 

—

Over the years that followed, you'd show up when the loneliness clawed too deep, when the nightmares took hold or when the silence of his apartment was too much to bear on his own. 

He started talking to you more than ever before.

When the silence weighed heavy on him, he’d glance into the shadows, almost expecting you to appear. And, as if by some unspoken agreement, you’d arrive just in time.

Yet, you never came too close. You stayed at a distance, as if you were made of something too fragile for this world. Bucky never minded, though. He had learned early on that pressing you for answers, for explanations, only ended with your departure. So he stopped asking them. He started accepting your presence as a gift he wasn’t meant to understand.

You were simply…there, steady and unchanging, offering comfort and warmth in a way no one else could. 

He’d tell you things he wouldn’t dare tell anyone else—confessions that clawed up from the darkest corners of his mind, memories from the days he wished he could erase. You would listen, without judgement, without a flicker of fear or revulsion. Your presence only ever brought you peace.

In those quiet, lonely moments, he came to rely on you, to look for you in the shadows. You were a silent companion in his darkest hours. And though he never stopped wondering who you truly were, he let himself believe, if only a little, that he had someone, that you were real enough to him.

—

One night, after a long silence had fallen between you, he confessed something.

“You know,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow and exhaustion, “I don’t… I don’t think you’re real.” He tried to smile, but it was faint. It was hollow. “I think to you’re just… my mind is playing tricks on me. I think I needed someone so badly that I made you up.”

He was laying himself bare. Raw. Vulnerable.

He was almost afraid to look at you, afraid that if he did, you would disappear, proving his confession true. Then, he forced himself to meet your eyes, searching for any sign of reaction.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t deny it. 

You only looked back at him with that same soft understanding.

“You’re just…” he murmured, trailing off. “You’re the most beautiful person I could imagine, someone I must have conjured to… to keep me from losing my mind.” He laughed bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face, not quite meeting your gaze. “Because no one like you would actually be here. Would actually want to be with someone as broken as me.”

He waited, his heart beating harshly. Part of him hoping you’d break the illusion, that you’d tell him he was wrong, that you were real. 

Faint sadness flickered in your eyes. “Suffering has never broken you before,” you said, “It will not break you now.” 

You didn’t confirm his fears, but you didn’t deny them either. 

That quiet, ambiguous acceptance soothed him more than any promise could have.

He let the questions go, even though they lingered in the back of his mind. 

He came to understand that perhaps it didn’t matter if you were real or not. He only needed you.

—

It was the dead of night, and Bucky was trembling.

He had woken up in cold sweat, the remnants of his nightmare gripping him like icy chains. He sat up, pressing his hands to his face, trying to push away the memories that refused to fade, the fractured images of a past that haunted him even in sleep. He swallowed, his voice rough, almost a whisper, as he murmured into the dark.

“Where are you?” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, come back.” His heart pounded, his words barely a breath as he called for you, “Come back to me.”

He let his head fall into his hands, feeling so fucking foolish. 

He should've known.

He should’ve known that after all this time, he was still calling for a ghost, for a figment of his imagination, for someone he’d conjured out of pure, pathetic loneliness. 

As his breathing slowed, he felt something shift in the quiet corners of his room. A familiar warmth settled over him, gentle and comforting. He raised his head, and there you were, standing just a few feet away.

For a long moment, he simply stared, disbelief and wonder filling his stare. You looked more solid than he’d ever seen you before, as if reality had woven itself around you.

Light no longer passed through you. Your footsteps made thudding sounds on the ground. You tripped over a couple of the steps, as if learning how to walk with legs for the first time.

You moved closer towards him.

Seeing him so shaken, so desperately calling for you, had drawn you out in a way that felt irreversible. His cry was a pull too strong to resist. 

Gently, you reached out, your fingertips brushing his cheeks, tracing the faint stubble along his jaw, the warmth of his skin grounding you in this physical form. 

It was wrong for an immortal entity as ancient as you to take human form— you felt weaker, and your grasp on the unknown faltered. You knew, when you inevitably had to return to your ethereal form, that you would be exhausted. That it would hurt.

But after nearly a century of watching over James Buchanan Barnes, you had to know what his skin felt like.

His breath hitched at your touch. Slowly, his hands rose, trembling, to cover yours, pressing your palms to his face as if he was afraid you might disappear.

He blinked, eyes wide, searching your face. “You’re… real,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, an astonished relief flooding his eyes. “I can feel you.”

You nodded, letting your hands cradle his face, your thumbs softly brushing over his cheekbones. For a while, you stayed like that, letting his mind settle on the reality of you. 

“Who… who are you?” His voice was filled with awe. His gaze locked onto yours, desperate for answers.

You took a steady breath— and it felt off, like you had to learn it. 

You had never needed to breathe before. But now, you needed it as much as you needed him. 

You knew that him knowing what you were wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“I am the Spirit of Suffering,” you said quietly, your voice as soft as the night around you. “I ease the pain of those who suffer, showing myself to those who need me most. For eons, I’ve been drawn to pain, to sorrow. But… I’ve never been drawn to someone like you.”

His brow furrowed, confusion mingling with a sense of awe as he processed your words. He searched your face, as if trying to reconcile the warmth of your touch with the truth.

“You’ve been watching over me?” he murmured, struggling to fully grasp the revelation. 

You nodded, the truth spinning between you like a fragile thread. “Yes,” you admitted, your voice gentle, almost a whisper. “Every time you were in pain, it was my job to be there. The natural forces would not let me stop what happened to you, James, but I could keep you company, share the weight of your sorrow.”

He closed his eyes, his hands still covering yours. His grip on you tightened, trying to anchor himself to this moment. “So all those times I thought I was imagining you…”

“You weren’t,” you said softly, your gaze unwavering. 

He took a shaky breath.

You sat on the bed next to him, feeling the softness of bedsheets for the first time in your eternal existence.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, James.” Your hand drifted down to cover his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath your palm. “In all the lifetimes I’ve witnessed, through all the suffering I’ve felt, I’ve seen people become monsters, lose themselves to pain and suffering. But you… you never let it consume you. No matter how much they took from you, no matter how much you suffered, there’s still kindness in you.” You smiled, a flicker of admiration in your gaze. “You were the first person to show me that suffering doesn’t have to destroy.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His touch was fleeting, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real. He searched your face, seeing the depth of who you truly  were. He saw your boundless compassion, the centuries, maybe millenia, of understanding that lingered in your gaze. 

You had been more than a dream, more than a figment of his imagination.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a sincere gratitude, “for helping.” 

As you looked at him, you realised just how much he needed you. And perhaps just how much you needed him.

—

Every night that he called for you, you’d be there for him, sacrificing your eternal strength just for a moment.

Just before the dawn’s first light, you’d pull away from Bucky’s life and disappear, dissolving back into the unknown.

You always lingered as long as you could, your human heart aching at the thought of leaving him alone again. But still, you slipped away, returning to your role as the silent companion of suffering, never able to stay beyond a few hours.

But Bucky kept calling for you.

Sometimes he’d wake from a nightmare, his voice rough with sleep and fear, calling you like a prayer, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world. Sometimes he’d simply whisper into the dark, reaching out with an open hand, searching for your touch.

And each time, you answered. Despite the strain it placed on you, the unnatural weight of becoming flesh and blood for him, you would come back. You took on human form again and again, letting him feel the warmth of your hands. You told yourself that you could bear it, that his comfort was worth any mortal pain that your immortal spirit had to carry.

One night, in a moment of weakness, as you sat together on the edge of his bed, he looked at you with an intensity that made you feel as if your duties had disappeared. 

The silence stretched, and you could see what his eyes carried. The tenderness, the gratitude, the fierce need for you. He lifted a hand, gently brushing his fingers along your cheek. The softness of his touch reverberated through your flesh and blood. You were suddenly made aware that you had a beating heart as it was pounding against your fragile ribcage.

Before you could process the feeling, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle, soft as a whisper, but it set something inside you alight, a sensation you’d never known before. 

You had seen humanity’s love from a distance, had watched the joy and heartbreak it could bring, but this… this was something beyond mere understanding. His lips were warm and real against yours, the taste of him grounding you in this fleeting human form in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

For a moment, you were frozen, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips, the rhythm steady, grounding. And then, almost instinctively, you kissed him back. You leaned into him, feeling the depth of his sorrow and his hope in that single, shared breath. 

Every inch of you felt alive, pulled into his gravity, the intensity of this moment overwhelming every human sense you didn't think you’d ever experience.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I’ve waited so long to feel this,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “To feel you like this.”

You felt a swell of emotion like a lightning strike— something so unfamiliar and impossible to ignore. You were a spirit who had known only of pain and how to relieve it, who had wandered the world in search of suffering to ease, yet this—this was something else entirely. This was desire, love—all foreign feelings that made you want to stay, to linger in his arms a little longer.

But dawn was coming, as it always did. Despite the ache in your chest, you knew you had to go. The world was waiting; and others needed you, too. 

With one last touch, your fingers brushing along his cheek, memorising the feeling of his skin.

You slipped away, dissolving back into the unseen, feeling his absence as if it were a physical wound.

—

It became a brutal cycle.

Every morning you would go, and every other night, when he called, you returned. Each time, the kiss lingered in your memory, the softness of his lips, the rush of your pulse, the racing of a heart that should not be yours to feel. It left you longing, yearning, pulling you back to him over and over, until every time you left felt like you were tearing yourself apart.

And though you slipped away at dawn, leaving Bucky alone with the shadows, you knew that a part of you stayed, lingering there beside him, just waiting for night to fall again so you could return to him.

One night, Bucky reached for you. His touch was gentle and filled with a hunger that was new to you. 

Tonight, he had a human desire for you that you had only observed in passing. His fingers entwined with yours, rough and warm, pulling you closer with a care that sent a strange warmth rushing through you. You sensed a gravity between you, one that seemed to draw every part of your physical form into his orbit, a sensation you never could have understood in your ethereal form.

As he guided you towards his bed, his gaze stayed on yours, searching and vulnerable, as though asking for permission. You felt a flicker of understanding in his silence, a human fragility and need that made your heart—this temporary, fragile, human heart—beat a little faster. 

You nodded.

When he leaned in to kiss you, the sensation was breathtaking, as it always was. 

That night, he showed you the depths of human pleasure, the way mortal love could break open walls so high so intensely that the shockwave that came after felt endless. Every caress of his hands, every whisper against your skin, seared into you like a brand.

Bucky gave you something new, grounding you in sensations you didn’t know were possible. In his arms, your physical senses were overwhelmed by the beauty and ache of human desire.

With each touch, each shared breath, he showed you parts of himself he had never shown anyone in a long, long time.

And as he moved with you, every boundary between the known and unknown seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you, bound in a shared, silent understanding that felt more ethereal than anything you’ve ever encountered.

When it was over, he held you close, his fingers tracing soft, slow patterns across your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder— it was the truth. His eyes met yours, laying his heart bare for you to do whatever you pleased with it. To cherish or to break, he really didn’t care, as long as you were the one holding onto it. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but I do.”

In those words, you finally understood humanity’s deepest, truest suffering—the need to love and be loved.

For eons, you had only known suffering, solitude. The burden of easing pain without truly being seen, without knowing love in its purest form. But with Bucky, it was different.

“I love you too, James,” you whispered. It was a confession, as much a promise as it was a revelation. And you meant it. You felt a love that was boundless, stretching far beyond what this temporary human form of yours could contain.

Days passed, and each night, he would pull you close, his touch tender, his words gentle. His love was a constant that anchored you in this fragile, borrowed form. But each morning, as the first light crept over the horizon, you would pull yourself away, fading back into the shadows. 

Every time you left, you saw the ache in his eyes, a silent plea that grew more desperate with each parting.

—

One night, after holding you in silence, you felt Bucky suffered more than he ever did before.

You felt the sorrow, and even you couldn't calm him down from this desperate longing that had fragmented his heart into a million pieces— it was knowledge that you couldn’t truly be his and that he couldn’t truly be yours that had caused this pain. It was knowing that, as long as you were immortal, you couldn’t possibly belong to a mortal man.

“Please stay,” he whispered, his hands shaking as they held you. “Don’t go. I can’t… I can’t keep saying goodbye. I don’t want to only see you in fragments of stolen time.” He squeezed you. His eyes were filled with a raw, desperate longing. “I want you here— with me. Always.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. You wanted to say yes, to let yourself stay, to finally surrender to this love and the peace it offered. But you knew better than anyone of your nature. You were bound to the suffering of others, woven into the fabric of pain that had defined you for a long, long time.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words breaking as you forced them out. “I want to, more than anything. But I… I’m not meant to stay. There are others who need me.”

A flash of pain crossed his face, and he closed his eyes, trying to swallow the heartache that threatened to bury him. He nodded, though you could see struggle that lingered in the lines on his face.

“Just stay a little longer tonight,” he murmured, his voice tight, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

And so you held him a little longer, feeling the fragility of this human connection, the knowing that you would have to let him go. You stayed with him until the stars faded from the sky, until the dawn began to creep over the horizon. And as you finally pulled away, slipping back into the shadows, you felt a piece of yourself break, a piece that would always belong to him, no matter how far you wandered.

—

One day, as Bucky’s heart prepared to stop beating, you stood by him, devastated.

You were there as a phantom, feeling his soul slip through your fingers as he lay on the concrete after a mission gone wrong. He was unconscious, his life hanging by a thread as he fought to come back from the edge. In all the centuries of comforting humanity, you had never felt such fear, such desperation. 

While you watched him, fragile and fading away, you felt something shatter deep within you.

His breath was shallow— his fate uncertain. He would only have minutes to live. 

But you couldn’t lose him. 

So you made a choice that you had once thought impossible. 

With a heavy heart, you turned and sought out the one being who held the power to intervene: Rio Vidal, Death herself.

Death came to you quietly when you summoned her to the darkness neither of you occupied. She moved with an eternal calm, her presence as vast and ancient as the stars. She looked at you, her dark eyes filled with the weight of ages that rivalled your own. Her stare was neither evil nor kind. 

You knew that she'd already understood why you called for her. 

“Don’t take him,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Not now.” You were pathetic, desperation rising in frantically— a desperation that followed you into your ethereal form, an ache that you hadn’t known could exist in your immortal heart. “For the first time, I’ve found someone… someone I love. I can’t lose him.”

Rio regarded you quietly, her expression unreadable. She had seen countless souls come and go. She had met lovers, warriors, and spirits alike, each bargaining for one more breath, one more chance. But she had also never seen you — Suffering herself— here, pleading for a life. You, who had roamed the earth for centuries without attachment, a solitary being who moved through suffering like water, soothing but never bound. 

To see you now, so deeply connected, intrigued her.

Perhaps, she gave you a chance because she once felt this way, too.

“What would you give?” she asked softly, sheathing back her blade.

The answer rose in you, going again your own soul’s warning. 

“I’d give my immortality,” you replied without a second thought. “One day, you can take my soul, too. Just let me live beside him for as long as he has. Let me trade eternity for a single lifetime with him.”

Rio was silent for a long time, her gaze thoughtful, searching. 

“Do you understand what you’re offering?” she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and pity. “To become mortal is to surrender everything you have known—the ability to exist beyond pain and beyond time itself. You would feel suffering as they do, you would face the limitations of flesh as they do.”

"I’m sure.” you nodded with nothing but conviction, “I would rather face an end, rather give up everything, than live without him for a single moment."

Rio studied you one last time, her stare as vast as the void between stars. Then, slowly, she inclined her head, a flicker of respect in her eyes. 

"When he is gone, I will come for you, too." Her voice softened just a little. "Cherish this life. It is not easily won."

When she vanished, you felt the world shift around you, felt your soul ground itself in ways it never had before. Your body solidified, your senses sharpened, and you felt, for the first time, the steady permanent rhythm of a heartbeat pulsing within your chest. 

You were no longer the Spirit of Suffering, bound to pain and sorrow. You, now permanently, were flesh and blood– human in every sense. 

And for the first time in forever, you felt real— mortal, permanently.

—

Bucky was recovering, weak but alive.

When you knocked on his door, he opened it, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you standing there, no longer a fleeting vision that appeared in his room.

You walked all the way here, your barefoot aching from the harshness of the concrete.

You were solid, as real as he was, standing on his doorstep with tears in your eyes.

He had never seen you cry before. He wasn't even sure if you could.

"You're… you’re here," he whispered, reaching out as if to touch you, to be certain that you were truly there. His fingers brushed your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin, and his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone as if committing this moment to memory. “You feel different,” he murmured, awe in his voice. 

“I’m here to stay,” you said, voice brimming with love you could barely contain, your own hand lifting to cover his. 

He let out a shaky breath, and his eyes searched yours, filling with a warmth and disbelief so deep that it mirrored your own. He pulled you into his arms, holding you as though afraid you might vanish again.

But you didn’t. 

You were here, bathed in sunlight, and real.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the thrumming of his veins against yours, knowing that, finally, your heart would beat alongside his for as long as time allowed.

-end 

Read the sequel to this story: Symptom of Life

I would love to explore this further! Maybe Bucky helps you find a name, maybe even pulls some strings to give you a fake birth certificate and ID. Maybe he realises that time is fleeting and has a courthouse wedding with you ASAP.

Maybe Bucky introduces you to Sam as his wife, and he realises that he’s seen you before, when Riley got shot out of the sky.

Maybe Bucky introduces you to the Thunderbolts* as his wife, and they all would have seen you before, at some point in their life:

Yelena would have seen you when she stood over Nat’s memorial.

Alexei would have seen you when he got separated from his girls for the first time.

John would’ve seen you when he killed that flag smasher with Cap’s shield, grieving Lemar.

Ava would have seen you when she was a kid, phasing out in and out uncontrollably in extreme pain.

Antonia would’ve seen you when the bomb blew on her face.

Or maybe I could explore more of how it affects you. How you now have human guilt to live with, knowing there’s no one out there anymore easing human suffering. Now, you also have to deal with your own human suffering.

Maybe people keep recognising you, keep pointing you out as if they’ve seen a ghost because you once came to them in a time of need.

Maybe you keep your powers? Maybe I should explore how those powers would manifest in a human body?

Anyway, let me know if you’re interested in any of these ideas and I might write them!

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."