#bucky x bullet point

[mywritesaremylove]

Bucky Barnes x Latina Woman

He just sits back and observes. He doesn’t question things, he just watches because even though he has never seen or heard what you're doing, he doesn’t want to make you feel weird for what’s normal for you. 

Secretly starts learning Spanish. 

When you get pissed you start cursing in Spanish, no one understands it but him. 

You yell out a curse word in Spanish at Steve for eating your last orange, which leaves Steve confused and scared but Bucky just starts laughing so hard. 

After that, you learn he learned Spanish fluently and start having conversations together in Spanish. 

It’s funny now because he now shit talks Sam in Spanish and no one understands but you. 

Starts gossiping in Spanish with each other. 

Loves eating the food she makes. 

His new comfort food is sopita de fideo, especially on cold days. 

He can kill a whole tray of tacos by himself. 

He thinks it’s funny when she calls everyone random nicknames in Spanish.  (Wanda - mamas, Sam - pendejo, Tony - menso, Thor - cabron, Loki - nopalito, Bruce - salsa verde, Clint - pajaro, Natasha - linda, Vision - tomate) 

Loves when you call him cute nicknames in Spanish. (“mi vida” is your go to)

[wexhappyxfew]

Hihihi!!!

I am absolutely floored by these prompts, seriously. So to start it off, I humbly request:

“this isn’t up for discussion. i know you’re used to looking out for yourself, but i need you to understand that you don’t have to live like that anymore. i’m here. for as long as i’m around, i’m going to come between you and anything that wants to hurt you.”

For Kennedy and Bucky if you feel so inclined. They are one of my fav couples (although it is so close let me tell you), but obviously only write if it speaks to you!

Can’t wait to see these pieces, Shannon!

-☀️

HI SUNSHINE ANON!!!! (enthusiastically waves) thank you so much for sending this in (plus your others, thank you so so much)! i got so excited seeing this kennedy x bucky request as i was already half-way through writing and realized how well things lined up when i got this request and decided to use it! thank you for the kennedy x bucky love truly!! they are seriously so fun to write and craft and getting to look at a more intimate, raw and emotional side of them here (with that lovely dose of angst and whump and comfort) was exactly what we needed with them! so i humbly present kennedy x bucky in the Stalag :) thank you so so much again! TRULY!! <33333

she'd fight a war herself

(a/n): HELLO FRIENDS!!!! if you recognize any of the few lines here and there from things i've posted related to kennedy and bucky here in the past few days, this is the piece! and the request really lined up with what i was going for here, so i combined the original kennedy x bucky piece i was working on with this one! and here we are! and im sobbing! okay! please enjoy! :)

"Knock, knock."

Kennedy's bruised knuckles tapped against the wooden door to the small library in their bunkhouse, where Bucky Egan was currently sat with one of those older wooden chairs pulled up against the window, staring out into the hazy afternoon. His large overcoat was wrapped around his body, hands shoved deep into the pockets, his hair a little more unruly than normal, and a sour look on his face.

Kennedy had been looking for him for at least an hour since she had left the group which had shifted outside - Annie and Buck's idea of 'getting some sunshine' into the group now that it was finally out.

Gray skies and storm clouds had been their friend for the past few weeks, with muddy pathways and cold winds. Now, with the sun out and a warm breeze in the air, there also seemed to be hope floating about.

Bucky, however, was here, sat inside, closed off, and completely alone. Bucky's eyes slowly shifted from the dusted window, his look both stern and far-off all at once, and his shoulders stood tall. She watched his eyes trail to her hand there on the door - the bruises, the ones she had earned herself, along with the one underneath her eye - and offered nothing but a small smile.

Ever since the kiss, in this very room, Bucky Egan had suddenly become everything.

At breakfast or dinner, where she tried to get herself by his side, or out when they managed to get outside, she'd find a way for just the two of them, to talk, to work through whatever the other was feeling, to take hold of the other's hand. Sometimes, when the nights were long and cold, she'd find herself in his bunk, soft kisses being shared back and forth between the two, his warm hands roaming her body underneath her overcoat and button-up and blanket, keeping her both sane and alive all at once. Things were different. And she tried to hold onto every bit of that in every way. The bruises though were different now. And Bucky had been a pistol about them ever since.

"Whatcha doing in here all alone?" Kennedy said, some of the voices outside coming through the walls, the sunshine coming in through the hazy window, half-reflecting off of Bucky's face in a way that made his skin glow in a way it hadn't in a whole, "I was looking for you." At those words, the corner of Bucky's lips curled upwards a bit. She always seemed to get him to grin.

"Just doing some thinking." Bucky said slowly, a nod to follow, "In my thinking spot." Kennedy chuckled and stepped into the room more, shoving her hands in the pockets of her poor, tattered A2.

"In your thinking spot, huh?" Kennedy said, tilting her head to the side, a small smile on her face, "What's bouncing around in your brain?"

Bucky watched her deeply for a moment, it felt like he was looking at her as intently as he could, as if memorizing her face, her dimples, her freckles, her hair the way it was (and it wasn't pretty). He seemed distracted, off-guard, on the low. Her smile fell and instead, worry began to consume her. Bucky was usually far from the person sitting in front of her now. Her heart pounded a bit.

Moving closer, Bucky looked up at her as she came to stand beside him - she offered an attempt at another smile - before reaching forward and running her fingers over those few loose, wild curls of hair against his forehead.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly, a bit more urgency to her voice, retracting her hand, the touch having been, evidently, both gentle and welcome, "You're never this quiet, Bucky, you're worrying me."

"C'mere." Bucky said, voice low and gruff as he reached out his hands and spread his knees a bit. Kennedy watched him for a moment, the desperation in his eyes, making her heart hurt a bit, as she stepped forward and settled between his lap and leg, wrapping her arm around the back of his neck and reaching up her other hand to cup his cheek.

Softly, she guided his face to her own and watched his eyes again, her thumb brushing gently on his stubbled skin. His hand found her waist, thumb brushing back and forth against her jacket as his other hand came to her knee, the warmth of his hand tingling her skin underneath her pants. It felt so natural to be like this, so close and intimate. If it weren't for the war and their circumstances, she would've said it felt like home.

But with Bucky, she was home.

No matter where they were.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly again, her voice soft as he continued to watch her, gripping her like his life depended on it.

Slowly, her leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips - soft, sweet and slightly desperate, but longing enough that her stomach flipped - she was still getting used to this between them. After everything they said to each other, that moment they shared. Pulling back, he watched her again. She offered a small smile.

"We can't just stay here forever." he said quietly, "This place. Now with the SS showing up." Bucky continued to hold her gaze, the look in his eyes both stern and persistent. He looked crazed deep-down inside. "After hearing what the British did…..those holes. We gotta find a way to do something. To get out. Or even just try….." Bucky whispered, his voice dropping, "There's so much more than this place, Kenny. I know that." Kennedy watched him, cheeks warmed from his touch and his presence and him. She slowly nodded.

"I know." she said softly back, "And we will. But for now, it has to be kept on the low. Nothing crazy. You don't want yourself hurt or killed."

"Just like they did to you?" Bucky said back to her, reaching up to take her hand on his face and gently hold it out beside him, fingers tracing the delicate, broken skin on her knuckles before looking back at her, "I don't want them touching you again." Her insides twisted warmly at his words, that protective bite to his voice that made her warm all over.

"I know, baby," she whispered quietly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall behind the chair, "we'll get through this. You know that." Bucky watched her, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards.

"How many more times do we have to say that before it's true?" he asked her quietly, his words almost hollow, like he was fighting to believe it, "I wish I was more like you with that." Kennedy watched him with a small smile and shrugged.

"Ask Annie Bradshaw and maybe she'd know. She's got quite the effect on a person." Kennedy said and Bucky managed to smile a bit at that.

"You've got quite the effect on me." he said, as she felt her cheeks warm at his words - something she was always trying to fight away - since when did she blush? Bucky continued to watch her and she let him; watching as his eyes explored her face, his hand coming up a few times to wipe back the ginger hair falling from the poorly done braids behind her head. His eyes rested a few times on her own eyes, before they'd fall to her lips or freckled cheeks and then back to her eyes. It seemed to calm him. Keeping him steady. She wanted that for him.

"I've never wanted to get out of a place more," Bucky whispered quietly, a catch almost in his voice, "you know that?" The thoughts just seemed to cycle and he seemed to spiral.

"I know." Kennedy whispered, reaching up to drag her fingers gently through his hair, his grip tightening on her waist, "We all do." Bucky watched her and leaned closer.

"Do you want kids?" he asked her, catching her the slightest bit off guard there - suddenly she felt every part of him touching her, his eyes on her face and she felt her body warm. Watching him for a moment, she nodded.

"Yeah," she said, "always have." Bucky suddenly seemed to grin at her, genuinely grin and she watched as he reached up and ran his fingers over the end of her braid.

"Bet they'd have your hair color. Bright red hair." Bucky said with a small chuckle, "Our kids." Kennedy watched her, her heart hammering in her chest, her eyes fighting to well with tears.

The thought of being a mother had always been a dream of hers - she had a girl in middle school tell her before that she didn't seem like someone who could be a mom. And Kennedy carried that quote with her everywhere she went. Even when she was dating boys from the country club and they'd tell her about the fortunes and promise rings of her future and the chances of what their kids would inherit. Even when she was home, broken-hearted over that loser from her father's business who had told her 'she was too much'. Kennedy always wanted to be a mother, always.

It was something inherent to her very being, to her entire make-up as a woman. To her.

"Your eyes." Kennedy said, testing the waters right back, her voice sounding strained and choked as she spoke, silently hoping Bucky didn't realize too much, "Definitely your eyes." Bucky met her gaze and smiled at her.

"Nah, nah," he said, "your eyes, my ears. Probably." At that, Kennedy let out a snort of laughter and sniffled a bit, looking towards him again.

"I don't want this to sound dumb, but I promised I'd never try to hide things from you…but, you want to have kids? With me?" she asked him quietly, watching as worry and concern built up in his eyes, straightening his shoulders a bit as he did so. She tried a joke. "But I'm a Red Sox fan." Bucky watched her, jaw set, eyes on her.

"I do." he said quietly, entirely serious, "I hope you know this-" gesturing between them, "isn't just nothing to me. You know that. I'm serious about you, Kenny. Why do you think I want to get out so bad? I sit here, day after day, knowing what we could have outside of this shit hole. I'm real serious about this. About us." Bucky continued to watch her. "You know that." Kennedy melted against him a bit, leaning closer, cupping his cheek as she tilted her head to match his.

"I know, I just…." she started, "I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to be a mother in a world like this so….hearing you say that. It just, ya know, made me want it more. With you." Kennedy's big eyes trailed up to Bucky's and she watched him watch her back.

"Why'd you say it that way, Kenny?" Kennedy stared at him, those words from middle school ringing in her head. Over and over. Like a bell toll in the church, an echo off a never-ending cave wall.

"Someone, who clearly was very upset with their life, once told me I wouldn't make a good mother." Kennedy whispered quietly, "And I took it to heart and believed it. For a period of time. For a while." Bucky's eyes grew dark and his grip tightened on her.

"You still believe that shit?" Bucky asked her, voice louder than he seemed to want it to be.

"No." Kennedy said, "I used to let it get to me, but….not anymore. Not after being with this group. With you." Bucky watched her, his gaze softening a bit more as he watched her grin.

"Good." he said quietly, a silence falling between them as they watched each other, these small, shy smiles on their lips in a way Kennedy had never seen Bucky even be before. It was honestly enough to make her giddy inside.

"I just know our kids would be Red Sox fans." she whispered and she watched a wild grin appear on his face as he shook his head.

"No! Nah, nah, you've gone too far there," Bucky said, his face starting to glow, "the second they're able to walk, I'm taking them to a game, Yankees, alright? They're getting the playing cards, all that happy horseshit, okay?" Kennedy let out a laugh as Bucky held her closer.

"But what happens if they choose Red Sox, huh, what would you do?" she said, holding her chin high as Bucky smirked and shook his head.

"Wouldn't you like to know." he said softly back and Kennedy nodded with a grin, "Either way, you'd be the best mom those kiddos would ever have, I know that." Just hearing words like that, some deep and genuine and truthful from someone like Bucky made her heart race and her emotion take hold.

"I don't usually go soft on Red Sox fans anyway, but you might've gotten me, Kenny." Bucky whispered softly, catching her gaze as she stared at him. She brushed her thumb across his cheek again and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

With how close they were, she couldn't help but feel him deepen the kiss there, this cracked-open rush of feelings enough for her to feel starved for him as his tongue swiped her bottom lip and a sigh left her lips.

She pulled herself as close as possible to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands exploring his hair as she tilted her head to get more of him to her.

Breaking apart, slightly gasping for breaths of air, his lips danced across her jawline, dotting along her neck before he was there, sucking gently on a spot near her collarbone. It made her giddy, sitting here, despite the situation, with a man, tall, brooding, and a little goofy, kissing her neck and her of all people, like it was life itself.

It made her a little crazy inside - that he wanted her? He wanted a future, a life, kids…with her? Maybe it made her a little crazy, but it was true. Kennedy let out a giggle leave her lips and Bucky pulled back, eyes soft as he looked to her and grinned lazily.

"What are you laughing about?" he asked her, his voice making her insides twist again.

"Us." she whispered back, "You and me." Bucky watched her with a smirk.

"What about us?"

"Our futures." she said quietly, "God, imagine what our lives could be like."

"You see why I'm pushing the get-the-fuck out narrative now, right?" he said and Kennedy cackled at his words and nodded. Bucky watched her fondly and grinned.

"Well, since the door has been shoved wide open, no longer just a foot in the door, you gotta hit me with those baby names, Kenny, let me have 'em." he said, winking at her and grinning effortlessly, like some cool guy in a movie, "I gotta know what little Egans we'll have."

"You're leaving the naming to me?" she asked him with a laugh and Bucky grinned.

"Hell yeah I am," he said with a wider smile, "seriously, what are they." Kennedy softened and then smiled.

"I always thought Florence was a pretty name. For a girl - Flo for short. Margaret - Maggie for short. Charlotte - Charlie for short." Kennedy said and Bucky grinned, "For boys, well…..Gregory for sure. I've always loved Clark or James, Jimmy for short. Robert….Bobby for short."

"You sure are a nicknames type of girl aren't you?" Bucky said and Kennedy grinned.

"What can I say?" she said, "I thought your name was actually Bucky before I found out that was only a nickname and your name was actually Major John Egan. I was convinced, I'll tell ya." Bucky chuckled at that and smiled at her, reaching up to run some strands of hair back away from her face. He watched her in that sickeningly sweet way that made every part of her body melt in a way she couldn't describe.

"What'd they do to you?" Bucky whispered, reaching up to brush his calloused thumb near the tender part of her bruise, his touch gentle on her skin and her body inviting his touch; she felt in every lifetime, she'd invite his touch like a warm spark, a match with a flame waiting to blow.

Kennedy's smile fell as she watched him - the memories raw, it all seemed fresh in her mind and usually nightmares chased reality away. Instead this time, it was both a mix of reality and nightmares that were her everyday waking truth.

"I knew those Kraut doctors would have something for Bessie's cough." Kennedy whispered, pretty mater-of-factly to him softly - she liked this, whispering with him like things were a secret and that for once it was just the two of them - and she liked hearing his voice whispered back, so low and quiet and soft on her ears. She loved his voice. Bucky watched her, thumb brushing on her bruised cheek gently as he did so. She wanted him to look at her like that forever, however long forever could be if it were him.

"I would've done it for you," Bucky said quietly with a nod, "scrounged it for you-"

"No." Kennedy whispered softly, her eyes flashing to his, "You've already done enough for me, Bucky-"

"You got hurt, Kennedy." Bucky said, his voice thick with emotion, choked somewhere in his throat, "They hurt you." Bucky's eyes flashed with pain and Kennedy shut her mouth slowly.

"I know that." Kennedy whispered, "I've gotten hurt before. All the time. Even when I was a kid. And for a friend, for someone like Bessie, I'd do it again." Bucky watched her still.

"They hurt you." Bucky repeated, this time his voice firmer, but shaky, like he was standing out on a balance beam, waiting for the wind to take him and tip him towards the abyss.

Silence fell between them and suddenly Kennedy felt more emotional than she had in days. He cares, her mind seemed to scream, he's saying this because he cares! But her mind couldn't seem to make sense of it, she couldn't seem to get that picture in her mind. She was still in that flightless mode, that build-up-your-walls-and-you-are-fine mode.

"I know." Kennedy whispered her voice shaky, "But I'm okay." Bucky's eyes moved back and forth frantically between hers for a second before focusing on the bruise on her cheek again.

Being this close to him, staring into his gaze, his eyes, knowing that if felt like he could see the deepest parts of her, scared her. In so many ways. In ways she didn't want to have to think about.

Sitting in this silence with him wasn't something she was entirely used to - and she couldn't get her mind to work, to get words formed on her lips. Instead, all she could do was stare right back at him. Convince him with a look that she was okay.

"I don't want you to have to worry about me." Kennedy said quietly, looking up slowly at Bucky with a shy look, "You shouldn't have to worry." Bucky's face moved with a near-grimace, a pained expression flourishing on his features in a way that made Kennedy want to eat her words.

"But I will." Bucky said, his voice louder this time, "Kennedy, look, I…." Bucky's eyes trailed towards the window again, before pulling back to her, "You know, me worrying about you. It….it isn't up for discussion. In my eyes. I know you're used to looking out for yourself, but I need you to understanding that you don't have to live like that anymore." Kennedy's eyes watered.

"I'm here," Bucky said, cupped her cheek firmer this time, looking right into her eyes, desperation flooding his own, "for as long as I'm around, I'm going to come between you and anything that wants to hurt you. Okay?"

"Bucky…." she whispered, but he shook his head and adjusted his grip on her before leaning closer to her.

"They hurt you, Kennedy," Bucky whispered, "and the thought of them laying a single fucking hand on you makes me wanna lose my mind. Touching you. Because you were doing something for a crew member-"

"I don't want you hurt because of me." Kennedy told him quietly, watching as his eyes flicked to hers, pausing mid-sentence.

"Kennedy, I'd taking a fucking bullet for you," Bucky said, watching her with a steady gaze, "I'd do anything for you." Bucky grew quiet. Kennedy watched him back with big eyes.

"Fuck, Kennedy, I love you, I'm in love with you," Bucky whispered, looking up into her eyes, with the purest form of grief and pain and love swirling in his vision, "you worry about the people you love. I'm always gonna worry. Even if you're right beside me."

Kennedy's heart slammed against her chest as she sat wrapped in his arms, breathing the same air he breathed, watching those eyes, memorizing each freckle on his face, every time the muscles moved in his face to make him smile or frown.

Love was a word that had physically hurt her to even say in the past - to her mom, her dad, her brother, to those few guys she had dated and sworn promises and lives with.

Love had never been a word she used well or even understood well.

With Bucky though, she felt she understood love in every which way. In ways that were still to be explored. And no one had ever looked at her with a love like he had - even when she had come to the Stalag, dried blood up half her face, dirt and mud caking her form, starving for life and food and touch, barely being able to acknowledge anything but a bed for a few days, craving everything that was both human and not.

Scorning the world and the place they were in, and every single person.

And Bucky had been by her side and fed her soup and told her stories and held her in the dark as the nightmares and reality seemed to clash in her mind, wrapping her in calming words and blankets made of nothing but thin wool and telling her everything that came to his mind.

It had been Bucky. It'd always be Bucky.

"I'm so in love with you Bucky, you don't even know," Kennedy managed out in a sped up version of what her mind had managed to come up with, "I love you so much. And I don't want you hurt." A tear squeaked out down her face as he watched her.

Slowly, their foreheads met in the small center of space between them, inches between them as Bucky pulled her as close as he physically could to him, the clothes on their very bodies almost too much between them even now.

Slowly and almost achingly, Bucky pressed his lips to hers and she let herself go in that moment. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, hands mused into his hair, his own hands pushed up underneath her shirt and warming her cold skin, dancing near her bra strap and holding her in such a delicate manner, she was sure she could cry about it 10 years in the future.

Bucky's lips were soft, but hungry and by the time his tongue had slipped inside, she couldn't think about anything else. His soft sighs into her mouth, her own mind going a thousand miles a minute with him there so close to her, Kennedy was sure she had entered a world she never wanted to leave.

They came apart gasping for breaths of air before his lips were trailing her jawline, before settling on her neck, and she giggled, curling into his own neck - his jacket nearly smelled like home.

Like Thorpe Abbotts - that hug they'd shared that long night when bombs were going off overhead and Bucky couldn't seem to contain his words or his alcohol.

And God, she had stared at him and sworn she would never think of him again, but here she was, the two of them holding each other in a way she'd never been held before and was thinking of every outcome of their lives past this very point in time.

Bucky's teeth grazed a bit at that soft spot on her neck, before he softly pulled back and kissed her skin gently, peppering that same spot with soft kisses that made her grin into him.

Then, she couldn't help it - giddy with the feel of him there with her and the way he had kissed her, so desperately and hungry, she let out a laugh into his neck and he seemed to feel much of the same of whatever energy she was feeling, because he laughed, too. A low rumble that she felt against her cheek, from his throat, which made her hold onto him so tightly that she never wanted to let go.

"Bucky?" Kennedy whispered against his neck, listening to his heart pulsate - she loved the feel of him right here beneath here - every inch.

"Kenny?" Kennedy pressed a soft kiss to his neck and watched goosebumps appear and a shiver run over his entire body.

"I've never loved someone more than you." she whispered quietly. Bucky tilted his head back and watched her and seeing his eyes so big and soft and there, right in front of her, made her suddenly feel like everything was worth it.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a peck to her lips before pulling back and smiling at her, "the thinking spot has never let a person down now, has it?"

And then, she was laughing again, clasping a hand over her mouth as she launched her head back.

Laughing with Bucky, God, she'd fight a war herself just to live in this moment with him every night there was in her life.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Cuddles

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: just a quick Drabble/Imagine about Bucky needing cuddles

Warnings: cuddling, vague mentions to Bucky having a hard time but nothing graphic or especially angsty, just some sweet fluff, Alpine!

A/N: this is the first time in a hot second that I've done a fic that isn't bullet points, so fingers crossed it turned out alright 😅

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

Imagine Bucky needing cuddles after a rough day.

Maybe a mission goes badly, or he's just been in a bad mood, or Fury and him had an argument or something, but regardless he's had a bad day and all he wants is a peaceful night at home. Alpine greets him at the door as he kicks off his boots, purring as she butts her head against his leg. Bucky smiles and lifts her up, scratching her head.

She lets out a happy little chirp as he carries her into your shared bedroom, and there he sees something that immediately brightens his day.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he murmured, “where's my Doll, huh?”

There you are, asleep and curled up on your bed, wearing his hoodie. It made his heart swell. Bucky set Alpine down on the bed, and the white kitten curled up into your side, purring loudly. You stirred, half-awake as you felt the mattress shift. Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to a firm chest. A stubbly face nuzzles into your collarbone, pressing little kisses to your neck. You smile, your boyfriend coming home is one of the best parts of the day.

“Welcome home, Baby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to Bucky's temple and running a hand through his hair, “how was work?”

“You have me, Sweetheart,” your free hand reaches down to hold his metal one, gently toying with his Vibranium fingers, “we'll stay here as long as you want.”

“‘Don’t wanna talk about it right now,” he pulls you closer to him, “just wanna hold you.”

He lets out a happy little hum and nuzzles against you.

Later, the two of you will get out of bed and he'll tell you about his day over Chinese takeout and little kisses. But for now, Bucky is more than content to lay here, snuggled up and drifting off into a peaceful nap with you and Alpine in his arms.

[brunchable]

How's retirement, Bucky? | Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Themes: Funny. Bucky trying to find things to do to kill time, while also being a menace to Y/N and the neighbours. Prequel to 'Ouch, My face.'

Summary: Bucky decides to retire and leave the super hero world behind, but now he doesn't know how to be normal citizen.

A/N: Just another scenario tha rudely popped into my head. . .

Bucky Barnes was retired.

It still felt strange, even after months of settling into a life of quiet mornings and unhurried afternoons. He had fought in wars, spent decades as an agent of chaos, and dedicated years to redemption and healing. Now, here he was—waking up whenever he pleased, making breakfast in a house that didn’t have bullet-proof glass windows or a panic room, and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day.

Today, like most others, started off simple enough: a run through the neighbourhood, a cup of coffee, and a lazy scan of the news. He’d even managed to fix the leaky faucet that had been bothering you for weeks, earning a soft kiss on the cheek as a reward.

But then… the day stretched on. There were no missions, no tactical planning, no world to save. Just the quiet ticking of the clock and the gentle hum of suburban life around him.

So, Bucky set his sights on something—or rather, someone—far more interesting: annoying you.

And thus began the saga of Bucky Barnes’ Retirement Phases.

Phase 1: The Handyman Hero Phase

Duration: One Month

Bucky started off strong, becoming the ultimate handyman of the household. Everything was fair game for improvement. Leaky faucets, creaky floorboards, wobbly shelves—if there was a screw to tighten, Bucky was on it like a well-oiled machine.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you asked one morning, sipping your coffee as you watched him carefully measuring the distance between each picture frame on the living room wall.

“Making sure they’re exactly one inch apart,” he said without looking up, his voice deadly serious.

“Why?”

“Because last night, I noticed this one—” he pointed to a frame on the far left “—was slightly off-center, and it’s been bothering me ever since.”

You blinked. “Bucky, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Y/N. It’s one and a quarter inch apart. Do you know what happens when things aren’t balanced?” He gave you a haunted look, as if you’d just suggested destabilizing the world order.

“Chaos,” you muttered.

“Exactly.”

Within weeks, Bucky had rebuilt half the house, repainted the walls (twice), and installed a state-of-the-art security system that even Tony Stark would envy. You came home one day to find the couch moved three inches to the left, the coffee table completely gone (“I dismantled it; we don’t need it”), and Bucky seriously contemplating whether the kitchen would look better with marble or granite countertops.

“Bucky,” you said slowly, trying to remain calm, “I’m begging you—stop fixing things.”

He blinked at you. “What do you want me to do then?”

You panicked. “Anything. Just—find a hobby!”

He gave a solemn nod, as if you’d just entrusted him with a new mission. “Okay. A hobby. Got it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. If only you’d known what was coming next.

Phase 2: The Google Scholar Phase

Duration: Two Weeks

With his newfound free time, Bucky discovered the internet. And when Bucky Barnes discovers the internet, chaos ensues.

It started innocently enough. You’d come home to find him glued to his laptop, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What are you doing?” you asked, setting down your bag.

“Research,” he said ominously, fingers flying over the keys.

“Research on… what?”

He glanced up, his eyes wide. “Did you know sharks have been around longer than trees?”

“Uh—”

“And that banana slugs can grow up to 9 inches long?” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a whole website dedicated to weird animal facts. I’ve been reading for hours.”

And so, you were subjected to two weeks of nonstop trivia.

“Hey, Y/N!” he’d shout from the kitchen. “Did you know an octopus has three hearts?”

Or: “Did you know cows have best friends?”

And: “Do you want to hear about the deepest point in the ocean?”

“Not really—”

“It’s called the Mariana Trench, and it’s seven miles down!”

You tried banning Wikipedia, but he just switched to obscure forums. You blocked YouTube, and he found a random chicken fact blog. The worst part? He’d share his newfound knowledge with anyone who’d listen.

“I’m calling Sam,” you muttered one evening after hearing Bucky recite the entire history of the humble potato to the mailman. “You need social intervention.”

Phase 3: The Home Décor Perfectionist Phase

Duration: Two Exasperating Weeks

Denied access to his newfound internet pursuits, Bucky turned to interior design. You were caught off guard one Saturday morning when he asked, “What do you think of paisley?”

“What’s a paisley?”

“Pattern. I’m thinking of reupholstering the couch.”

“Bucky, no—”

Too late. Within days, every room was a different colour. You came home to find polka-dotted curtains in the bathroom, and he’d somehow managed to install a chandelier in the laundry room.

“Bucky, why is there a 10-foot mirror in the hallway?”

“It makes the space feel bigger.”

“Bucky, this is a two-bedroom house!”

He paused, squinting at the living room wall. “I think the polka dots need to go.”

You nearly wept with relief when he announced he was moving on to the garden.

Phase 4: The Amateur Detective Phase

Duration: One Overly Suspicious Month

After redecorating the entire house, Bucky set his sights on the neighborhood.

“Y/N, did you see that guy across the street?” he whispered one morning, peering through the blinds with a pair of binoculars.

“That’s Mr. Henderson. He’s eighty-five.”

“Yeah, and he’s up to something. No one goes to the mailbox that often.”

“Maybe he likes getting his mail?”

“I’m telling you, something’s not right.” He tapped the binoculars. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

And so began Operation: Neighborhood Watch. Every delivery truck was scrutinised. Every dog walker received a full background check. The poor Girl Scouts who came to sell cookies left looking slightly shell-shocked.

The Girl Scout Incident: When Bucky Barnes Met Thin Mints

The Girl Scout incident started out innocent enough—just a kid selling cookies to the neighborhood. But when Bucky Barnes answered the door, things took a turn.

It was a sunny Saturday morning. You were in the kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when you heard the doorbell ring. Before you could even get up to check, Bucky’s voice echoed from the living room.

“I got it!” he called out, already making his way to the front door.

Curious, you peeked around the corner just in time to see him open it. Standing on the porch was a sweet-looking little girl, no more than nine or ten, decked out in her green uniform, clutching a clipboard and flashing a bright, eager smile.

“Hi, mister!” she chirped, clearly undeterred by the stern look on Bucky’s face. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies today?”

You watched as Bucky’s expression softened just a bit, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Cookies?” he repeated, as if she’d just offered him nuclear launch codes.

“Yep!” She held up a laminated chart with pictures of the various cookies, pointing to each one with a tiny, rainbow-colored pen. “We have Thin Mints, Tagalongs, Samoas—uh, I mean, Caramel deLites—”

He squinted at the chart, clearly trying to make sense of it all. “Why would you need to sell cookies?”

You nearly face-palmed. Oh no.

The girl’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “It’s a fundraiser! To support our troop activities and trips.”

“Fundraiser?” Bucky’s voice dropped suspiciously. “Who’s your troop leader?”

The girl blinked, a little taken aback. “Uh, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Uh-huh. And how many boxes of these so-called ‘cookies’ are you supposed to sell?”

Her smile wavered just a fraction. “Um, as many as possible?”

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “And where does all this money go?”

“Bucky—” you tried to interrupt, stepping forward, but he held up a hand without looking back, eyes still locked on the bewildered Girl Scout.

“It goes to our troop!” she answered nervously, glancing down at her clipboard as if for reassurance. “For badges and supplies and—”

“Supplies,” Bucky echoed, his tone suddenly sharp. “What kind of supplies?”

“Uh… arts and crafts…?” she stammered, clearly starting to get uncomfortable.

“Arts and crafts?” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Or something else?”

You saw the poor girl’s eyes widen, her grip tightening on her clipboard as if she was contemplating using it as a shield.

“Bucky, stop,” you hissed, stepping forward to intervene. But he was on a roll now.

“Who gets the money, huh?” He narrowed his eyes, peering down at her like she was an enemy combatant. “Do you get it?

“Or does it go to some mysterious ‘troop leader’ who’s hiding behind a desk somewhere, raking in profits from innocent cookie sales?”

“M-Mister, it’s just cookies,” she squeaked, glancing nervously at the boxes stacked beside her. “We just wanna go camping this summer.”

“Camping?” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “And what kind of ‘camping’ are we talking about here? Deep-woods recon training? SERE training?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.

“Bucky, she’s nine!” you practically shouted, rushing over to save the poor child from what was rapidly escalating into a full-blown interrogation.

“But Y/N, this could be—”

“It’s not a conspiracy, Bucky!” you snapped, turning to the girl and giving her what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Sweetie, how much for a box of Thin Mints?”

“Uh… f-five dollars?” she stammered, still eyeing Bucky like he might suddenly sprout fangs.

You reached for your wallet, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and handing it to her. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” she squeaked, stuffing the money into her pouch with trembling hands.

You shot Bucky a glare. “Apologize.”

He crossed his arms, looking mulish. “But—”

“Bucky.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Uh… sorry… for, um… asking about your troop leader and, uh… the money laundering?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly not following.

“Bucky!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.

“I mean, sorry for… for… being weird,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The girl gave a hesitant nod, glancing back at her stack of cookies. “Um… would you like another box, mister?”

Bucky frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe. Which one’s the best?”

“Bucky—” you started, but he was already leaning down, listening intently as the girl launched into a detailed explanation of the flavour profiles of Samoas versus Tagalongs.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky was the proud owner of a dozen boxes of Girl Scout cookies, which the girl somehow managed to upsell him into buying. The look of relief on her face as she walked away was palpable.

You turned to Bucky, hands on your hips. “Really, Buck?”

“What?” he said defensively, clutching his armful of cookies. “I needed to make sure it was legit!”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why we now have enough cookies to feed an army?”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I guess I got carried away.”

“Just… try not to scare any more children, okay?”

“Hey, I was just being thorough,” he muttered, glancing down at the boxes. “Besides… these ‘Samoas’ are actually pretty good.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Because only Bucky Barnes could turn a simple cookie sale into a full-scale interrogation—and then end up buying out the entire stock.

“Whatever you say, Bucky. Whatever you say.”

He gave you a sheepish grin, holding up a box of Thin Mints. “Want one?”

“Sure,” you sighed, reaching out to grab a cookie. Because, at the end of the day, this was Bucky Barnes: ex-assassin, super-soldier, and now… terrifyingly dedicated Girl Scout cookie connoisseur.

The Girl Scout incident, unfortunately, didn’t mark the end of Bucky’s neighbourhood watch endeavours.

“Hey, Y/N, that’s the third day in a row Mrs. Higginson has gone jogging past our house,” Bucky muttered a few days later, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

You glanced over from your spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-huh,” you replied absently, already wondering if now would be a good time to text Steve for a little ‘rescue mission.’ “Maybe she likes jogging?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not natural. It’s a cover for something. Probably espionage.”

“Bucky, she’s seventy.”

“Exactly. No one that age moves like that. She’s gotta be a retired agent.”

“Or she’s trying to stay in shape?”

“Or she’s spying on us.” He narrowed his eyes, peering through the blinds. “Maybe she’s HYDRA.”

“Bucky, she brought us homemade banana bread last week.”

“Which tasted suspiciously good,” he muttered darkly, tapping his pen against his chin. “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

It didn’t stop there. He began obsessively tracking patterns—when neighbors took out their trash, when they left for work, who picked up their mail first thing in the morning. His conspiracy board rivaled the one you’d seen at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, complete with photos, string, and a suspiciously large map of the neighborhood.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

You blinked, looking up from your book. “What’s up, Buck?”

He leaned in, his voice low and serious. “Did you know Mrs. Patterson’s dog peed on our lawn three times this week?”

“I—what?”

“And Mr. Thompson left his house twice yesterday. Twice.”

“…is that a crime?”

“Yes. Who leaves the house twice in one day? He’s clearly up to something.”

“Like… groceries?”

Bucky frowned. “No. Something bigger. I saw him walking to his car, get this—without any bags.”

“Maybe he forgot something?”

He shook his head, eyes narrowed. “It’s a diversion tactic. I’m keeping a close watch on him.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re stalking the neighbours.”

“Of course not!” He paused. “I’m… observing. For science.”

“For science?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Buck. I’m putting my foot down,” you finally managed. “You need to stop this. The neighbours think we’re crazy. You’re scaring the kids and… the mailman won’t come to the door anymore.”

Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

“Because you interrogated him about his route last week!”

“He was being shady!”

“He’s a mailman!”

There was a long pause as you stared each other down, Bucky looking defiant and you looking exhausted. Finally, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“Buck… I know retirement is hard. But you need a new outlet. Maybe something a little less—”

“Paranoid?” he offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. And a little less terrifying for the neighbours.”

He sighed deeply, like you’d just asked him to hang up his shield all over again. “I was just… trying to be useful.”

Your heart softened immediately. Because that was what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? The man who’d spent his life fighting wars and doing battle against his own mind was now left trying to figure out how to fit into a world that no longer needed him to save it.

You walked over, placing your hands on his shoulders and giving him a soft smile. “You’re always useful, Buck. Even if you’re not interrogating the mailman about federal postal regulations or… spying on seventy-year-old retirees.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, huh?”

“A little,” you agreed with a grin. “Maybe you should find something else to watch over.”

“Like what?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You bit your lip, thinking. “I don’t know… Maybe get a pet? You could… I don’t know, babysit a cat or something.”

Bucky blinked at you. Then his eyes lit up like you’d just handed him the Holy Grail of retirement activities.

“A cat,” he murmured slowly, as if testing the word. “A cat.”

“Yes, a cat,” you repeated cautiously, wondering if you’d just unleashed some new kind of havoc on the house. “You could train it to… I don’t know, not scratch the furniture or something.”

“Or… I could train it to keep an eye on the pigeons,” he muttered to himself, looking thoughtful.

“Wait, what?”

But Bucky had already gone inside, the gears in his mind clearly turning. You shook your head, deciding to let him have this one. After all, how much trouble could he really get into with a cat?

Phase 5: The Pet Phase (aka Operation: Find a Feline Friend)

Duration: Ongoing, with Fur Everywhere

You didn’t think he’d take it seriously. Until you came home the next day to find Bucky sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, a small, white ball of fluff curled up in his lap.

“This is Alpine,” he announced proudly.

You stared at the kitten, then at Bucky, then back at the kitten. “Bucky, what… why…?”

“You said get a pet,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I did.”

And that’s how Alpine, the grumpy old woman in a cat’s body, became part of your household. Bucky spent weeks trying to train him (“Sit, Alpine! Sit! … Okay, fine, just glare at me, that works too.”), set up elaborate obstacle courses (“Alpine, jump! No, don’t walk away—okay, you know what, just do your thing”), and spoiled her rotten with toys and treats.

With each phase, Bucky’s retirement became a new adventure. And while it drove you absolutely crazy at times, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Bucky lying on the couch, Alpine curled up on his chest, both looking completely content.

“Retirement isn’t so bad, huh?” you teased one evening, curling up beside him.

He hummed thoughtfully, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “I don’t know… I think I could use a new project.”

You groaned, but your groan turned into a laugh when he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh no,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “No more projects, Barnes. You’ve nearly redecorated us out of house and home, scared the mailman half to death, and—”

“Don’t forget the gourmet cookies,” he interjected with a cheeky smile.

You shot him a playful glare. “I’m trying to forget the cookies, thank you.”

“Aw, come on. I think I finally got the recipe down. I’ll just try one more—”

“No!” you practically shouted, your voice echoing through the living room. Alpine, unbothered, merely lifted her head, gave you both a disinterested look, and went back to napping.

Bucky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No more cookies. No more redecorating. No more… scaring the Girl Scouts.”

“Or spying on the neighbors.”

“Or spying on the neighbors,” he agreed, still looking a little too amused for your liking.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch and resting your head on his shoulder. “You know, most people take up hobbies like gardening or painting in retirement.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but those aren’t as exciting.”

“They’re not supposed to be exciting. They’re supposed to be calm. That’s the whole point of retirement, Buck.”

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening. “You really think I’m the ‘calm’ type, doll?”

You snorted. “No, not really. But it would be nice if, just once, I didn’t come home to find you plotting to build a moat around the house.”

“Moats are an excellent defense mechanism,” he said matter-of-factly. “But okay, I get it. I’ll tone it down.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You promise?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his right hand. The glint in his eye, however, told you he was already planning something new.

“Bucky…”

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not for a second.”

He chuckled, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Alright, no more projects. I’ll just focus on Alpine. She’s a full-time job anyway.”

You glanced at the cat, who was now sprawled out like she owned the place. “You’ve turned her into a diva, you know.”

“He’s just refined,” Bucky said defensively. “He’s got standards.”

“Uh-huh. Like the way he refuses to eat unless you hand-feed her?”

“Refined,” Bucky insisted.

“And how she sleeps on your side of the bed and shoves you off with her tiny, evil paws?”

“Selective.”

“And how she sits on the counter staring at you like she’s plotting your demise?”

“Observant.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’ve created a monster, Bucky.”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug, smirking down at you. “I’ve handled worse monsters. She’s a good one. Besides,” he added, scratching Alpine’s head fondly, “she’s family.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, content in the peaceful moment.

Then Bucky cleared his throat, and you glanced up to see him shifting slightly, like he was working up the nerve to say something.

“So… I was thinking…” he began slowly.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he said quickly, raising his hands as if to ward off your incoming refusal. “What if we… I dunno… made a baby?”

You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“A baby,” he repeated, his voice steady, though there was a telltale blush creeping up his neck. “You know, a little human—our human. Someone we can train to take over the world… or at least keep me entertained.”

Your jaw dropped open. “You want to have a baby—because you’re bored?”

Bucky gave you a sheepish grin. “I mean, I was thinking it could be a good project… long-term investment… future troublemaker…”

“Bucky,” you interrupted, placing your hands on his shoulders and staring at him, bewildered. “Are you seriously suggesting having a child like it’s another DIY project?”

He shrugged, looking as nonchalant as ever, but his eyes were soft and serious. “Maybe. But I was also thinking it’d be nice to have something, or someone, that’s just… ours. A mix of you and me. Something that isn’t tied to the past, or fighting, or… all the other stuff.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your mind around the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “You really want a baby, Bucky?”

He nodded slowly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t get me wrong, Alpine’s great and all, but…” He sighed, his smile turning tender. “I just think it’d be amazing to have something more. I’ve spent so much of my life taking orders or fighting ghosts. But starting a family with you? That’s something I get to build. Something that’s ours.”

You bit your lip, heart swelling at his words. Despite the completely unromantic way he’d suggested it, there was sincerity in his gaze, a yearning for something deeper than fixing leaky faucets or buying out the Girl Scouts’ entire cookie stock.

“And you think you’d be a good dad?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” he scoffed, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’d be the best damn dad. I’d teach our kid how to throw a proper punch by age five, dismantle a toaster by six—”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So, what you’re saying is… you want to raise a tiny super-soldier?”

His grin widened. “Hell yeah.”

“Bucky, we are not turning our child into a mini-Winter Soldier.”

He pouted dramatically. “Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit,” you affirmed with a chuckle. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. “But… maybe we could talk about it. You know, actually talk. Not just… plan a tactical baby mission.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he brushed his thumb along your cheek. “Yeah. We can talk about it.” He paused, then added with a mischievous glint, “After we practice a little more.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh my God, Bucky.”

“What?” he asked innocently, his grin widening. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Yeah,” you whispered when he pulled away, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I do.”

You glanced down at Alpine, who was still sprawled across Bucky’s lap, looking utterly uninterested in the conversation. A baby. You hadn’t really thought about it seriously before, but now that Bucky had put the idea in your head… you couldn’t help but wonder.

There was a brief pause as Bucky gazed at you, his expression growing thoughtful. “You know,” he began quietly, “after that whole Girl Scout cookie fiasco… I kinda started thinking… I’d really like to have a daughter.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “A daughter?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “That kid was just so… brave, you know? Standing there, staring me down even though I was being a total idiot. It reminded me of you—fierce and unafraid. I couldn’t stop thinking… what if we had a daughter like that? Strong, smart, and completely capable of putting me in my place when I get out of line.”

You felt your heart clench at his words, his quiet admission making your chest ache. “You want a little girl because she’d keep you in check?”

“That,” he said, smiling softly, “and I think I’d like the challenge. I’ve spent so much of my life dealing with people who only saw me as a weapon. I just… want to prove that I can be something else. That I can be gentle… and kind… and love someone unconditionally. The way I love you.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently. “Bucky, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I know,” he murmured, his gaze warm and intense. “But I still want to try. And I want to be the kind of dad who isn’t just a protector, but a friend. Someone who’d sit through endless tea parties and help her build pillow forts… and buy all the Girl Scout cookies she wants without scaring anyone.”

You laughed softly, tears stinging your eyes at the picture he painted. “You’d be a great dad, Bucky.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

There was another beat of silence before Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “So… when do we start?”

You felt your cheeks heat, a mix of laughter and surprise bubbling up in your chest. “Bucky!”

“What?” he asked, his smile as innocent as ever. “I’m just asking. I mean, you know I’m a man of action. Gotta have a timeline.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands as Bucky laughed softly, his arms wrapping around you.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “No rush. We’ll take it one day at a time, sweetheart. But just know… I’m ready whenever you are.”

And somehow, you knew this next phase—whatever it looked like—was going to be the best one yet.

× × × ×

Ten months later

The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the nursery in a warm, golden hue, casting gentle shadows on the pale blue walls. The room was still, save for the quiet creak of the rocking chair as Bucky swayed back and forth, holding the tiniest bundle of joy in his strong, yet tender arms.

His daughter, barely a week old, was nestled against his chest, her small, delicate breaths in sync with the steady rhythm of his own. Her tiny fist curled around the fabric of his shirt, as if she knew just how safe and loved she was in her daddy's arms.

Bucky hummed quietly, the familiar melody of an old lullaby drifting into the air. It was a song his mother used to sing to him when he was no older than his sweet little girl was now. The words came softly, almost whispered, as if they were sacred—meant only for his daughter.

“Darling, you're my bloodYou have my heartbeatYou have my heartbeat, beating loud,”

His voice was gruff, yet softened by emotion as he sang, the gentle rocking lulling his daughter further into her peaceful slumber. His fingers brushed through her soft, downy hair as he looked down at her with nothing short of awe. How had he, of all people, gotten so lucky?

He had been through so much darkness in his life—seen and done things he would never be able to forget—but here, in this quiet moment, everything seemed to fade away. The world outside could wait. Right now, his whole universe was cradled in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes felt at peace.

Unbeknownst to him, you stood at the door, your heart swelling at the sight before you. You had come to check on them both, worried that Bucky might need help with the baby. But when you saw him there, rocking your little girl and singing so sweetly, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the doorframe, content to watch the love of your life in this vulnerable, beautiful moment. 

Bucky was a natural, even if he didn’t believe it. You had seen the worry in his eyes when you first brought your daughter home—the fear that he wouldn’t be good enough, that he wouldn’t know what to do. But here he was, proving himself wrong in the most heart-melting way possible.

The lullaby continued, each note filled with so much love it made your eyes mist over.

"You are my lighthouseA peak of light from the dark cloudsI've lived under my whole life. . .And there's nothing I won't do for you."

Bucky’s voice cracked just a little on the last line, overcome with emotion as he gazed down at his daughter and carefully wiped his tears away. 

She had his eyes—bright and full of wonder, even when they were closed in slumber. He couldn’t help but trace the delicate features of her face with his gaze, committing every tiny detail to memory.

Finally, you couldn’t resist any longer. You stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to startle him. Bucky looked up, surprise flickering across his face when he saw you standing there. His expression softened when he realised you had been watching him.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his voice low so as not to wake the baby.

“Long enough,” you replied, your smile widening as you walked over to him.

Bucky blushed, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not exactly a professional.”

“I beg to differ, I think you’re the best dad in the world.” you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple. 

Bucky’s heart swelled at your words. He never imagined he would be here—sitting in a nursery, holding his newborn daughter while the love of his life stood beside him, calling him the best dad in the world. It still felt like a dream.

“She’s so small,” he murmured, looking back down at the baby. “So fragile. I didn’t think…I didn’t think I could love someone I barely knew this much.”

Your hand gently rested on his shoulder as you gazed down at your daughter. “You’ve got a big heart, James. I always knew you’d be amazing as a father.”

He glanced up at you, eyes soft and full of affection. “You’re the amazing one.”

You reached out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek, and Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling more complete than he ever thought possible.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family. A reason to feel…whole again.”

You knelt down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it, Bucky. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Bucky kissed the top of youe head, holding you close as he continued to rock your daughter. The world outside could be chaotic and unforgiving, but in this room, in this moment, everything was perfect.

× × × ×

Baby at six months

The house was peaceful, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow through the windows. You were out running errands, leaving Bucky home with their now six-month-old daughter, who was currently kicking her chubby little legs and babbling on her playmat. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she reached for her favorite stuffed bear, the one Bucky had given her the day she was born.

Bucky sat beside her, legs crossed, watching her every move like she was the most fascinating thing on the planet. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. 

“You know, blossom,” he began, glancing over his shoulder dramatically as if checking to make sure Y/N wasn’t around. “Your mom thinks she’s the boss.”

Their daughter let out a high-pitched squeal, and Bucky grinned. 

“Right? Can you believe it?” he continued, keeping his voice low as if sharing the biggest secret in the world. “She thinks she’s in charge around here. But between you and me, we know the truth.”

His little girl giggled again, her tiny hands grasping at the air as if she was agreeing with him.

“See, you and I?” Bucky said, tapping his finger gently on her nose, “We’re a team. We know how to get things done. I mean, just look at us—surviving nap time, figuring out how to stack those weird little ring toys, and we don’t even need to look at the instructions. Meanwhile, your mom still thinks I can’t fold laundry properly.”

He paused for dramatic effect, raising his brows. “Can you believe that? Laundry. I fought in World War II, and she’s worried I’ll mess up the towels.”

His daughter let out a delighted shriek, her little legs kicking excitedly. Bucky reached over and tickled her belly gently, making her burst into even more giggles.

“Oh, yeah, I know you think it’s funny,” Bucky chuckled. “But trust me, your mom’s got some pretty high laundry standards. I tried to fold one towel, just one, and she came over with this look like I’d committed a crime. 'Bucky, that’s not how you fold them!' she said. And I’m standing there like, ‘It’s a towel, not a top-secret mission.’”

He leaned in closer, as if telling her something top-secret. “She doesn’t know this, but I might’ve folded them wrong on purpose so I wouldn’t have to do it anymore.”

His daughter cooed, her tiny hand reaching out to grab his finger, which she promptly brought to her mouth to chew on. Bucky let her, his heart melting at the sight. She was his little sidekick, always hanging on his every word, even if she didn’t fully understand yet.

“And don’t even get me started on the bedtime routine,” Bucky continued, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Your mom’s got this whole plan—bath, story, lights out. Meanwhile, you and me? We’ve got a better plan. We chill, we rock, maybe sing a little. You get all cozy, and bam—out like a light.”

“Bababababa,” His daughter babbled something back at him, her little voice full of enthusiasm, and Bucky nodded seriously. 

“Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. We’ve got this figured out.”

He scooped her up from the mat and held her close, her head resting comfortably against his chest as he walked them over to the couch. He sat down, cradling her in his arms, and continued his lighthearted rant.

“And the thing is, she’s always right, which drives me crazy. Like, the other day, she told me you were gonna try to crawl soon. I thought, ‘Nah, she’s too young.’ But then what happens? Two days later, you’re scooting around like you’ve got places to be. I swear, your mom’s a psychic or something.”

Bucky gazed down at his daughter, who was now looking up at him with those wide blue eyes that never failed to melt his heart. She let out a happy gurgle, and Bucky chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“You know I’m just kidding, right? Your mom’s the best. She takes care of both of us.” He sighed, feeling a rush of affection as he thought about Y/N. “Don’t tell her, but I’m pretty lucky to have her. She keeps me in line.”

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and Bucky’s head shot up in mock panic.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered to his daughter, his eyes wide with exaggerated worry. “The boss is back. Don’t say anything.”

You appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow as you saw Bucky and the baby cozied up on the couch. “What are you two up to?” you asked, a knowing smile on your lips.

Bucky gave you his most innocent look, bouncing your daughter gently in his arms. “Oh, nothing. Just hanging out with my best girl here. Right, darling?”

The baby let out a little squeal, clearly delighted by the attention.

“Mmhmm,” You said, stepping closer and giving Bucky a playful look. “You haven’t been filling her head with nonsense, have you?”

“Me? Never,” Bucky replied, trying to keep a straight face. “We were just talking about how great you are. Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

Bianca, oblivious to the conversation, giggled and reached for you, and took her from Bucky’s arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, if she grows up thinking she’s in charge, I’ll know who to blame,” You teased, casting a glance at Bucky.

He grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Hey, she’s gotta learn from the best.”

You smiled, shaking your head in mock defeat. “You’re lucky she likes you so much.”

Bucky stood and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both looked down at your little girl, now happily nestled between you. “I’m lucky to have both of you,” he murmured softly, kissing the side of your head.

And in that moment, with his two favorite girls in his arms, Bucky couldn’t imagine a better kind of luck.

[marvelfanfics1]

omg omg idk if u take requests if u are can you do a winter soldier x little reader? maybe like bucky somehow gets into the winter soldier mode and is scary towards everyone else but the reader (like he goes soft for the reader)😭

Code: Winter

Pairing: daddy!Bucky x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, soft!Winter Soldier, mentions of guns, angst?, some fluff

⭒𖥸⭒

You whined when your nap got interrupted by the blarring alarm and constant repeating words 'code winter'.

Holding your hands over your ears you turned on your other side, expecting your daddy to lay beside you reading a book but frowned when you found his side of the bed empty.

Grabbing your stuffie you got up from your comfortable bed, making your way to the door and opening it slightly, peeking your head out.

You saw several agents and trainees running past your room, all seeming rather panicked and your little mind can't grasp the thought of there being a reason, or someone, for them being so scared, instead your curiosity got the best of you and you decided to go and look for yourself.

Meanwhile in the common area Steve was trying to console Bucky with Sam and Natasha behind him, aiming their weapons at him.

"Buck, come on, you know us-" Steve placed his shield down, trying to show he's no threat to the soldier.

"Steve! Look out!" Natasha shouted all three of them throw themselves to the side when the couch was being thrown their way.

Just as the soldier started approaching them he got send back by a repulsor shot from Tony who flied in just in time, in his iron man suit.

"That was a 2 thousand dollar couch, Terminator."

The soldier now grabbed the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants, aiming it at Tony when a small voice had them all turning their heads.

"Daddy...?" Your bottom lip trembling you held your stuffie close to your chest, not understanding why he was being mean to your aunt and uncles. "What you doin'?"

The soldier slowly made his way towards you, aiming his his gun straight at Steve when he took a step forward.

While walking to you the voice in his head he kept pushing away became even louder than before.

Do. Not. Hurt. Her. I dare you.

When he stood before you he tilted his head at the tear that was rolling down your cheek, his metal hand reaching up to wipe it away gently. In the deepest of his mind he knows you're no threat to him and picked you up with his metal arm placing you on his hip, his other hand still aiming the gun at the others to keep them at a good distance while walking out of the room.

The others all let out a sigh, still not at ease knowing the freaking Winter Soldier has you with him with no supervision.

"What are we gonna do now? If we step one foot in their room we'll have a bullet in our head." Sam said crossing his arms.

"He won't hurt her." Steve assured them.

"And how do you know that?" Tony laughed at him.

"I just know, alright. As much as the Winter Soldier wanted to, he couldn't. Bucky would never let that happen, even in this state."

"You better be right, Capsicle." Tony pointed a finger at him.

Back in your room, you were sitting on his lap, trying to analyze his expressions but there were none. Cold and dull eyes where staring at you, not the bright blue ones that you got used to and loved so much.

"You not daddy?" You asked, nervously playing with a lose seam of your stuffie.

When he shook his head you frowned a little. It confused you how he can be the Bucky you've known for years now but also doesn't at the same time. It's like talking to a clone, a much more colder one at that but still you can't help but feel safe in his arms.

The soldier doesn't like to see you upset, some inner part of him feels the need to comfort you in any way possible.

"Call me papa." He said with a russian accent and your face lit up at that, glad you didn't lost your caregiver completely.

You nod with a small smile, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, your interrupted nap now catching up with you.

"Love you, papa." You mumbled, yawning before finally closing your eyes again.

The soldier hummed in response, his metal hand rubbing subconsciously on your back and feeling your body relaxing against his.

⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Bucky:

@almostcontentcreator

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!!

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Three

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairing: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis (no smut though yet), pregnant reader, kinda gruesome details of organ taking/trafficking, self-destruction if you squint, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is a scheduled post; I just recently lost my cousin so I may not be able to be active here for some time but I’ll for sure check in once in a while. Happy reading! I hope you're all having a good time.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

⧗

After Natasha had taken care of Strange, her focus immediately returned to you. Seeing your unconscious form, her heart broke as she frantically searched for something to cover your exposed stomach.

She found a blanket and tore it into a small piece and she gently draped it over your stomach, her hands trembling, staring at your wounded stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, whispering words of apology.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her voice choking with emotion. “I should've listened to you last night, if I knew you wouldn’t…you wouldn't…” Natasha gasped for air but still trying to hold back a sob, she finally looked at your face. She held your hands and pecked a kiss all over it.

“I could've lost you, detka. I can't let that happen…I’ll never forgive myself if I lost you.”

“Everything's going to be okay. You, me, and our baby,” she smiled at the thought, wiping some tears on her face, “We're going to be a happy family.”

Tony landed with a heavy thud, the suit's thrusters kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris. Bucky quickly joined him, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. A doctor's body lying on the floor, unrecognizable as its face has a lot of holes in it.

He started to move towards you and Natasha, but Natasha's steely glare made him stop in his tracks.

Yelena tried to approach her sister and offered her help but Natasha ignored her as well. The expression on her face was cold and distant, her only priority was getting you to safety. She carried you in a bridal style and the rest of the team watched, unsure of what to do, as Natasha carried out of the room and started heading onto the Quinjet.

⧗

Steve and Tony spoke quietly to each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Tony couldn't provide any concrete answers, but he did share one unsettling detail. He projected a hologram display, showing the scans of the doctor's body. The bullet holes were highlighted in red, showing exactly where each of the 21 shots had landed. The lone bullet in the shoulder was also indicated by a separate red mark.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the tiny screen. “21 bullets to the head and one in the shoulder.”

The team winced as they took in the information, their gazes shifting to Natasha, who was still holding your hand in her lips.

Tony shrugged, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, I'm not judging,” he said. “I've done my fair share of blasting people in the head too.”

The team started to look your way, their gazes shifting towards your unconscious body and Natasha, but then they quickly averted them when they saw Natasha glaring at them. They scrambled to look busy, trying to avoid her disapproving glare.

In an attempt to look as if they weren't just staring at your unconscious body and Natasha sitting close to you, Sam awkwardly broke the silence by pointing at the glassed windows of the Quinjet, “Wow, a bird.”

His words hung awkwardly in the air, only to be met with Natasha's continued glare and the team's collective facepalm at his failed attempt to diffuse the tension.

⧗

When the Quinjet landed on the compound, the team immediately got up and was welcomed by Clint as the door of the Quinjet slowly opened. He already knew what happened and he was on leave since Laura just gave birth to their third child.

He walked towards the bed where your unconscious body was laying.

“Hey Nat.”

She didn't answer, but as soon as Clint touched the bed to help her get you out the Quinjet Natasha swiftly pulled a gun and pointed it towards his head.

“Nat…” Clint called, the team became frozen in place at the sight.

“Don't touch her.” She said her voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Yes, I'm not touching her. I am touching the bed,” he offered a logical argument, his tone gentle as he tried to diffuse the situation. He immediately but slowly moved his hands away from the stretcher you were in and put them in the air where Natasha could see.

The room's tension rose even more as the team started calling her out.

“Romanoff.” Tony called in a warning.

“Natasha.” It sounded more authoritative coming from Maria.

“Natasha, calm down.” Steve’s voice joined the fray, calling out gently.

“Back down! No one gets to touch her!” Natasha furiously exclaimed.

Natasha's grip on her gun tightened further, she pushed the tip of the gun on the back of Clint’s head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears.

A ripple of tension ran through the group everytime Natasha spoke. The atmosphere in the room immediately grew heavy, and the team members instinctively also tightened their grip on their own weapons.

“No one’s gonna hurt Y/N, Nat…please.” Clint reassured pleadingly.

“Shut the fuck up!”

And with that a loud thud echoed through the Quinjet with Natasha’s unconscious body laying on the floor. Yelena, her sister sulking at the corner with her hands clenched into fists pointed towards where Natasha was and her widow's bite smoking.

“Izvini, sestra.” (Sorry, sister)

⧗

Dr. Cho launched into her report, clearly concerned about the oversight. Wanda, Steve and Bruce were in the medbay with you.

“So no one noticed the bleeding on her head?” the doctor repeated incredulously. The room fell silent for a moment, and then Steve spoke up.

“Natasha wouldn’t let us near her.”

“Yeah,” Bruce confirmed, “She came before the team, I prepped the stretcher and she immediately snatched it away from me, not even letting me help her.”

Wanda clenched her jaw in frustration, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the two about what happened. She couldn't help but feel annoyed and frustrated with Natasha's behavior, which had led to your current situation. If Natasha had just been a little more cooperative and let the team help her help you, you would've been fine and awake by now. Instead, you were lying unconscious in the medbay, not sure when you're going to wake up.

“And no one knew that she's pregnant?” Dr. Cho added that made the three wince in guilt, how could they not notice? You live in the same place for god's sake, in the same compound.

Wanda was particularly hard on herself, her face filled with guilt. She’s your best friend and you two had spent so much time together, she felt ashamed that she didn’t notice anything different about you, especially since the two of you are inseparable when Natasha was away for 2 months.

You always had a morning walk together, gets to shop together, you two always watched sitcoms together and trained together. Wanda could only remember a moment when she had accidentally hit you in the abdomen during combat training, and you had collapsed on the floor laughing at the witch. You were for sure pregnant at that time and Wanda could only wince at the memory hoping that hit didn't affect her growing niece at your stomach

And the fact that she covered up for you made her want to let the ground eat her, what if she just let JARVIS figure out that it was you who was pregnant? This wouldn't have happened to you…

“Don't worry, Y/N is stable" the doctor said reassuringly, “and she should wake up at any moment. However, we can't say for sure when that will be.”

She looked around the room, meeting the worried gazes of the team members who's nodding at her words.

“I’ll get her an ultrasound later which should give us more accurate information. For now let's give her body a break. And I need Romanoff here as soon as possible.”

⧗

Natasha tossed and turned in her sleep, distress written all over her face. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat at the bed, she took the place in where she was; it was your shared bedroom. She can feel her brain pounding inside her skull but still, she immediately got off the bed as the first thing she thought was you, she found herself frantically walking down a dimly lit hallway, approaching a closed door at its end.

As she neared the closed door, she noticed a soft glow and a bed with a woman laid out on it, bathed in a dim light. The sight invoked a pang of uneasiness in her, but she couldn’t shake the compulsion to get closer.

Natasha continued walking, drawn to the woman on the bed like a magnet. Each step seemed to echo loudly in the silent hallway, but she pushed onward until she was near the bed.

With a heavy heart, Natasha makes her way to the bedside of a woman who lies there lifeless and unseeing. Her eyes, hollow sockets staring into nothingness…

Her eyes scanned the woman's body, taking in every detail of the horror.

The ribcage splayed open like a grotesque butterfly…

The heart and lungs are missing, leaving a gaping hole…

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

The redhead's gaze lingers on the woman's lifeless hand, before her eyes widen in horror. She recognizes that hand, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she starts to panic.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she spots a manila folder beside the bed, within her grasp. With trembling hands, she snatches it up and flips it open, gasping as she scrolls through the contents.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Natasha gasped in horror, she flips open the file, page after page of personal information and photographs spill out of the folder, painting a detailed portrait of your face and body. Each page she turns reveals more information about you, and with each turn, her heart drops further into the pit of her stomach.

This body that is lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and a baby taken out of it…

Is your body and your child. Her child.

“No…”

“No, no, no,” she gasped, “Fuck no!” She threw the folder away and your body was already gone in the bed.

She immediately shot her head around when she heard a faint cry of a baby, but as soon as she turned she saw a shadow of a woman carrying a baby.

She knows it was you only by its figure…

Your voice reached her ears, filled with desperation as you called out to her.

“Natty, love? Can we talk?”

“Help us, Natasha.”

“Natasha, please talk to me.”

“Natasha!”

“Natasha! Wake up!”

“No!”

Natasha jolted awake, the loud call of her name immediately took her away from the depths of her dream. She panicked as she found herself surrounded by the darkness of your shared bedroom. Clint was holding her and she immediately ripped herself away from him, her movements sharp and agitated.

“Hey,” Clint's voice was gentle, a calming presence amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “Natasha, breathe,” he urged, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder but Natasha flinched, “You’re okay, everything is fine.”

“Where's Y/N?” Natasha demanded, her voice husky and rushed as she moved away from the bed ignoring her best friend's concern for her because clearly, nothing is fine.

“Nat,” Clint circled the bed to get to Natasha and she immediately got into defensive form.

“Are we really gonna do this again?” He asked, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And that's when the memories came rushing back, flooding her senses with a torrent of emotions. She remembered the weight of her gun in her hand, the cold metal pressed against the back of her best friend's head and the team trying to calm her down. The last thing she saw was your stretcher above her.

Natasha's breath hitched as the memories overwhelmed her, and she felt her legs buckle under her. She reached out to grab onto the bed, her legs weak and unsteady. She had come dangerously close to losing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Natasha's voice shook as she apologized over and over again, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the weight of her emotions bearing down on her. She felt Clint's arms wrap around her once more, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

He tightened his grip on her, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing small circles on her back with his hand. “It’s okay. You're fine, Nat. You're safe here.”

Natasha nodded, taking a deep shuddering breath as she tried to collect herself. “Where's Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Clint, where is she? I need to see her.” Her eyes pleaded with him, searching for answers.

Clint could see the desperation in her gaze and knew exactly what she needed, you.

“You'll see her alright?” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But right now I need you to rest.”

Natasha was about to refuse, she needs to see you now, but she knew better than to fight with her best friend. She needed to rest, to get her strength back before she gets to see you again. She nodded weakly, allowing Clint to help her up.

“You shower, get some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food over. After that you can see your girlfriend.”

⧗

Natasha worked diligently, her eyes alight with a soft and caring glow as she arranged everything on the bed. She had brought out all of your favorite blankets, each one softer and more comforting than the last. Her eyes landed on the strawberry plush, and her lips curved into a soft smile. She remembered how you had squealed with delight when she had won it for you at the basketball booth at a carnival.

“Hey Nat, you ready to go? Dr. Cho is waiting for you.”

Natasha startled at the sudden interruption, blinking as she tried to shake off her thoughts. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “Did she ask me to bring something? Does she want anything? Food? How's Y/N?” Natasha continuously asked as she put the blanket and pillow on a bag.

But Clint only muttered, “C’mon,” not wanting to break the news himself to her best friend. He’ll let Dr. Cho do the job on answering that.

Natasha felt her heart beat faster with each step as she and Clint made their way to the Medbay. She could feel her hands trembling, but she clenched them into fists at her sides, trying to keep her composure. As soon as she entered the medbay, she saw Dr. Cho and Wanda by your bedside. Her eyes immediately went to your unconscious form on the bed, her worry deepening. Why aren't you awake yet?

She felt Wanda's intense gaze on her and Natasha immediately put her face away from her direction, gripping the bag she brought. She couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort of the witch’s presence.

Dr. Cho, as if reading the room, asked Wanda and Clint to give them privacy.

When the two left the medbay, Natasha finally allowed herself to breathe. The witch's intense gaze had made her uneasy, adding to her worry about you. She let out a long sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, leaving her alone with Dr. Cho.

“How are you feeling, Romanoff?” Dr. Cho started.

“I’m fine. How is she?” Natasha immediately asked as she put the bag down at the side table of your bed.

Natasha's eyes lingered on your unconscious form, she carefully held your hands and a sudden flash of her dream returned to her mind.

Your body lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and your baby taken out of it…

She immediately shut her eyes to remove the thought in her head, the urgency she felt in the dream now mirrored in the real world.

“Romanoff.”

Natasha's gaze snapped to Dr. Cho at the sound of her name, quickly trying to mask her panic with a cool, calm expression. She took a deep breath, her voice coming out steady and collected, “Yeah? H-how is she?” she asked once again.

“Y/N suffered a blow to the head, causing significant trauma. There's no way to predict when she'll regain consciousness...”

Natasha's brow pinched at Dr. Cho's words. The idea of you being unconscious, possibly for an extended period of time, weighed heavily on her. She searched for more information, “Are you saying she's in a coma?”

“A light one.” The doctor pointed out, correcting her.

“And the baby?”

Natasha's gaze shifted from your face and to the printed ultrasound image Dr. Cho handed her, she shakily reached out to get it and her other hand never leaving yours. Her features softened as she took in the small, blurred figure on the paper. “So that's our little one?” she murmurs, a touch of awe in her voice.

Dr. Cho nodded, smiling gently at Natasha's reaction. “Yes, that is your baby at 12 weeks. As you can see, the limbs are well-formed and the baby's major organs have started to develop…”

“Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!”

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Natasha winced as Dr. Cho pointed out the tiny head, spine, and other features of the developing fetus to her, explaining that these details were visible at this stage of pregnancy. Natasha tries her best to listen attentively, but the memories are trying to get back in her head.

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“You didn't know until now did you?”

“Oh, that's a shame.”

“You are a bad mother.”

“Romanoff, are you sure you're alright?” Dr. Cho asked, worry written all over her face as she noticed Natasha drifting off once again.

“Yeah,” she answered dismissively, “There's uhm uhh…a cut on her stomach—”

“It's all patched up now.” The doctor said reassuringly, not letting her finish.

“Can I uhm…can I have some time with Y/N alone?”

“Of course, whatever you need. I’ll leave you two now.” Dr. Cho tapped Natasha's shoulder for comfort as she retreated to the medbay.

Natasha swallowed thickly, her throat constricting as she finally, finally felt like she could breathe freely. It was just the two of you now and that's what she needed. The machines beeping in the background seemed to fade into the distance as Natasha's gaze locked onto your unconscious form.

She was acutely aware of the soft rise and fall of your chest as you slept, the gentle curve of your belly where your little bean settled.

“Detka, I need you to wake up now…” she said as she gently removed the blanket you had and replaced it with the ones she brought, which is your favorite one. She now pulled the strawberry plush and laid it beside your pillow.

“I need you to wake up so I can make it up to you.” Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as Natasha brought your hands to her lips, pressing a tender kiss before resting it gently on her cheek. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of your skin against hers before falling into slumber.

⧗

You slowly blinked your eyes open, your senses still groggy from whatever they put or injected in your body. Your left hand was wrapped around by a figure, holding it close as they slept sitting up right next to you on the bed.

Your right hand snatched the nasal cannula out of your nose and the IV lines that are connected to your forearm. Slowly, you pulled your left hand out of the tight hold of the figure sleeping beside your bed. You started to breathe hard, finding some support for you to stand up.

Natasha's eyes snapped open as she felt the bed movements and the warm hand she's holding is now out of her grasp.

“Baby? Hey…”

She felt alarmed hearing the machine beeping continuously and the oxygen out of you. You snatched everything that is connected to your body and now slowly moving away from the bed.

“Detka,” she called again, holding her hands out even though it's your back facing her.

But you didn't hear, there’s this loud thumping in your ears, you can feel as if someone is hammering your head, and the only thing you can see is a blur. Nothing is clear and you’re feeling numb.

You continued to move until your feet felt the cold tiled floor and that's when you lost consciousness for a second. You can only feel a warm body catching you, you locked eyes with the emerald ones before you feel your body taken out from her embrace.

⧗

Natasha paced back and forth outside the medbay, her mind racing as she waited for word about you. She was still reeling from the events that had led to this moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled into her bones.

“You deserve it.” Wanda’s words cutting through the air like a knife. “You're the reason why she's there.”

“Whatever is happening to you right now, you deserve it.” She spat, Natasha now sat outside the medbay, her hands over her head as she faced the floor. “I am one blink away from invading your mind, to see what happened but I respect Y/N so much. You deserve everything that you feel right now, every guilt and shame. You deserve what's happening to you but my best friend doesn't deserve to be there!”

She could only bite her cheek, shutting her eyes as if she's not hearing the witch, but she could feel the heat of Wanda's words as they washed over her, stinging like a slap in the face.

Natasha and Wanda both turned their attention to Bruce as he stepped out of the medbay, the tension between them dissipating in an instant. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and Natasha immediately stood, her heart thumping on her chest wanting to hear about your condition.

“How is she?” The two redheads asked in unison, Wanda can only roll her eyes.

“She's awake now.”

Wanda didn't waste a second moving inside the medbay, walking past Natasha and Bruce.

“She's stable for now,” Dr. Cho informed Natasha who was left outside the medbay, “she just disassociated when she woke up earlier.”

Natasha nodded peeking over the doctor’s shoulder to get a sight of you but she can only see Wanda sitting beside your bed.

“Hey…how are you lyubov?” Wanda asked her fingers grazing yours.

“I feel weak,” you mumbled but gave the witch a soft smile, you managed to hold her hand that made Wanda sob. “Hey, I’m fine Wanda.”

She held your hand tightly and brought it to her cheek, “You should be, you really should be.” You hummed as you wiped the tears that streamed down to her face.

Natasha stood just outside the medbay entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you and Wanda interact. Your eyes flick towards her and you can read her lips muttering, “Hey,” to you.

“I want to rest for a bit.” You said, immediately avoiding Natasha and the witch noticed the tension between you and your girlfriend.

“Sure.” Wanda was about to stand to leave when you held your hands up, “Stay, Wanda. Please.”

Natasha could read the situation clearly, you didn't want her around. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut because all she wanted to do is to hold you and pepper you with kisses, take care of you. But she did notice what you want and it's not her, so she respectfully stepped back, retreating out of the medbay. The coldness in her chest had deepened into an ache, but she pushed it down as she always did.

For now, she’ll give you what you need but she will never stop trying and making it up to you.

⧗

Dr. Cho informed Natasha that you are now discharged and can leave the medbay anytime soon.

Right now, she's supposed to be sitting right next to you, apologizing or…begging for forgiveness, peppering you with kisses or cuddling you. But instead here she is walking alone to your shared room. Natasha had held back her tears as she walked towards the room, but the moment she stepped inside, the floodgates opened. She couldn't hold back any longer. She let out a choked sob and collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, Natasha surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. She couldn't contain her anger and frustration to herself any longer. With a roar of rage, she began to pummel the walls of the room, punching it with all her strength.

Eventually, Natasha's frenzy subsided, and she steadied herself against the wall, forehead resting against its cool surface. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in your embrace, feeling your arms wrapped around her, holding her down and keeping her grounded like you always do.

“You cannot be like this,” She whispered to herself. “You have a wife and a baby on the way to look up to. You cannot…you cannot be like this.” She repeated, as if trying to drill the words into her own brain.

Natasha slowly turned back, surveying the room with keen and puffy eyes. Without hesitation, she removed her jacket and top revealing her gray sports bra and started deep cleaning everything. Something that will occupy her for a while besides she doesn't want you to come back here with a messy and dirty room, though you always make sure that your shared bedroom is clean, both of you have tasks on what to do, on who's gonna do this or that, clean this or that. Actually it's you who gave her tasks, Natasha can be careless and a messy person at times but with you, it all changed.

Natasha started to take off the cover of the pillows and replaced them with fresh, clean ones from the closet. She then moved onto the bed sheets, pulling off the used ones.

After that Natasha moved to the bathroom, checking every corner, she pulled out the trash and some stuff scattered at the counter. When she opened the cabinet she was welcomed by a pregnancy test, not just one but three tests with two lines showing in each one.

Natasha picked the three, studying each one carefully before setting it back down again at the counter. She wondered if this was the thing you wanted to talk about before the mission. She clenched her jaw remembering how she treated you that night.

A call on the door pulled Natasha out of her thoughts. She retreated from the bathroom, taking a deep breath before opening it to reveal Clint standing on the other side.

“Hey, here's the flower you asked me to get.”

Natasha smiled as she took in the sight of the beautiful bouquet that Clint had brought for you. “I know you asked me to buy roses, the pink ones which is Y/N’s favorite but I saw these chrysanthemums and carnations. I bought this for Laura when she was pregnant with our Nathaniel. You should avoid-strong smelling flowers. Y/N’s sense of smell might be a little bit sensitive now.” Natasha listened intently as she had seen how Clint handled being a father of three. How he was able to protect her family while being an Avenger so might as well take her best friend’s every advice.

“You might wanna do some research. It's gonna be a lot but I know you two can do it.” She nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Clint.”

“Mood swings, Nat,” Clint chuckled as she warned Natasha, “It's gon’ be a hell of a ride.”

“Oh yeah it is, even though she wasn't pregnant yet it was a rollercoaster already.” She smirked remembering how she handled your mood swings during the course of your relationship.

“Oh Nat, now it's gonna be a whole new level.”

After a few more words of farewell, Natasha went back inside the room, and placed the flowers gently in a vase beside your shared bed. She filled the vase with water from the bathroom sink, letting it flow over each bloom as she arranged them.

Natasha settled on the couch after putting back the vase beside the bed. She put on some headphones as she lost herself to some music. An automatic vacuum hummed quietly in the background, gliding smoothly over the floor and picking up any debris.

Natasha indeed took Clint's advice, she was reading and researching about the changes that were happening to your body and what to expect during the course of the pregnancy. You're now in your 12th week and she read that during week 12 of pregnancy you’re wrapping up your first trimester and the odds of miscarriage are highest in the first trimester.

She took notes and made a mental list of things to expect.

“Your baby is only as big as a passion fruit but is growing and developing.” Natasha read to herself.

“Baby bump’s first appearance depending on the body type, food cravings, weird food cravings,” Natasha murmured, she continued, “Dizziness, mood swings, sore breast, heightened sense of smell,” She hummed, remembering her best friend's advice about sensitivity of your smell.

Natasha did a double-take as she read the last item on the list.

“Spike in sex drive?”

A knock on the door interrupted her researching and reading and she quickly put her headphones down, turning her attention towards the entrance.

She opened the door to see you standing there, a strawberry plush in your hand, and Bruce behind you carrying the bag of blankets she brought in the medbay. Her eyes widened slightly but she quickly composed herself, her expression softening as she took in your face, “Hey.”

You took in the sight of Natasha, your mind being in a haze. She is dressed in a gray sports bra and matching sweatpants, headphones clinging on her neck. Her arms were flexed like always and you could see the details of beads of sweat on her defined abs. Your breath hitched in your throat.

Natasha, noticing your gaze on her, quickly took the bag from Bruce. You walked past her already and went inside the bedroom.

“Dr. Cho will check in on her periodically.” Bruce informed the redhead.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

You sat at the bed slowly, noticing the new sheets of the bed and the flowers, the smell of it invading your nostrils. You caress the softness of the sheet while the strawberry plush sat on your thighs.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Natasha asked as she closed the door. She put the bag down where you put your dirty laundry.

“Baby?” She called again, “You know you can't avoid me forever.”

“Yeah, like you did me the other night?” you replied with a dry tone.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you and Natasha bit her lower lip in contemplation. Without hesitation, she immediately removed the headphones from her neck and walked in your direction. She gently knelt in front of you, placing the plush beside you as she took both of your hands in hers. Her bright green eyes searched for yours.

“Baby,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing. “I'm sorry.” She paused, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “Please, I was out of my mind that night,” her voice is becoming shaky this time. “It was the stupidest thing I ever did,” she continued, the regret evident in her expression. She swallowed hard, squeezing your hands gently. “Please, forgive me detka? I promise it won't happen again. I’ll take care of you, cook for you, buy you gifts, whatever you want baby, just—just forgive me.”

You actually stopped listening when she said “I’m sorry” all you could focus on was her arms untensing and tensing with each movement of her hands gently gripping your own. And the smell of the flowers were now gone as your girlfriend’s cologne, which was your favorite cologne of hers, started to envelop your senses. You don't know why you're being like this.

Natasha watched as you yawned, “I'm sleepy,” you slur.

“I uhh…alright baby,” She immediately let go of your hands and stood up, hesitating for a moment. She gently guides you as you lay down to your shared bed, putting the comforter all over your body and handing you the strawberry plush.

“Sleep tight detka, I’ll be here,” to her surprise, you hummed in response as you snuggled the strawberry plush close to you, a small sound that filled the air between the two of you and it made Natasha's heart jump. She took that as a good sign and she will for sure do anything to earn your forgiveness.

Next

[aquaticmercy]

Blood Bound

Part 2 of Dark Necessities

Summary : You are blood bonded to Bucky. The problem? You don't know what a blood bond is.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Blood. Cursing. Sexual tension. Pleasure from a vampire bite (?). Brief mention of sex (not graphic). Violence.

Word count : 3.1k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. John Walker and Eric Brooks feature in this because I kinda tolerate John because I think he has potential to be a well-written character, and I loved the Blade comics as a kid. Enjoy!

Whatever manifested between you and Bucky after the feeding only grew stronger in the days that followed. 

It wasn’t just the bite, nor was it just the intoxicating power of his super-soldier blood; it was something more— it has to be. It was something that you could not identify yet— it was as if it unlocked something dormant.

You didn’t understand it. The only bond you knew of was the familiar bond— and that required Bucky drinking your blood, not the other way around.

You knew you should’ve read up more on the history of vampirism. Granted, your lack of knowledge at this point wasn’t entirely your fault— you hadn’t lived very long, at least not by vampire standards. You haven’t even lived through a human lifetime yet.

You had barely scratched the surface of the supernatural experience. Eric Brooks had told you to read thousands of ancient inscriptions, and you were even a quarter way there yet. 

Besides, maybe you were just overthinking it. Maybe this was just what it felt to feed on an enhanced being.

Of course, you had fed on people before Eric— Blade— found you. He had seen you as a feral teenage daywalker, reckless but full of potential. It had been different then. Human blood was good but not great, it just gave you sustenance. You’d always imagine you had to get used to blood the same way high school kids learned to like beer.

When Eric took you in, he gave you shelter. He gave you a home and proper training. He gave you bags of serum monthly— ones he developed as a blood replacement. He gave you scrolls to study, books to read.

He told you to never ever consume human blood, even if it means you would never be satisfied.

Well, you broke that rule.

It had been weeks now since you first fed on Bucky’s blood, and now you could feel him like a second pulse.

It started with small things. So small that it went unnoticed at first. You’d reach for a glass of water, only to have him pass it to you before you even realized you were thirsty. He’d appear beside you on missions, his arms raised to protect you the second you sensed an incoming attack. And his injuries—those bruises and cuts you’d tend to— left ghostly aches on your skin.

After the feeding, both your powers became something else entirely. 

Your already sharp reflexes were sharper, your speed more supernatural that it should be. Bucky noticed it too—he moved with more than super soldier agility, leaping over gates as if they weren’t there, dodging bullets with uncanny ease. 

It wasn’t just that. Your emotions flowed into each other in unexpected surges. 

When Bucky felt anger, a hot, restless fury built within you, too. When your mind was clouded by doubt or fear, he’d tense up beside you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you both stumbled back to your shared apartment. His shirt was ripped, exposing the bruises mottling his chest. He tried to ignore it, but he knew you felt it, too. 

“I need you,” he murmured, voice steady, almost begging. 

“Bucky, we can’t keep doing this,” You swallowed. “What if you get hurt?”

“I won’t,” he growled, fingers brushing over your cheek, voice thick with longing. “Don’t you feel it? I’m stronger, faster— I’m healing quicker than I ever have before. Whatever this is, it’s changing both of us.”

The words hung in the air. You’d felt it too, that surge of power, that electric hum that vibrated through your bones.

“What is this?” you whispered, not expecting an answer. “What is it doing to us?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, his voice a dark, thrilling promise as he leaned in, the heat of his breath grazing your skin.

You hesitated, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. “Maybe we should ask Eric. He’s dealt with this daywalker thing longer—he might understand—”

There was a glint of frustration in his gaze. “And have him tell you to stop feeding off me? To go back to starving, until you waste away?” His hand cupped your face, pulling you closer. “His serum isn’t working anymore. Cow blood isn’t working. You need this. And I’m not about to let you go through hell to satisfy someone else’s rules.”

You felt your guard slipping, his words and the heat in his eyes breaking down your last defences. He was offering himself to fill the void inside you. And you couldn’t deny him any longer.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you onto his lap.

Slowly, you let your fangs graze his skin, a soft, tantalizing scrape that drew a low groan from his throat. His hands tightened around you. With a gentle press, you sank your fangs in.

The first taste of his blood hit you like a shockwave, the way it did the first time. He flooded your senses in a dizzying head rush. He tasted so intoxicating that it left you gasping.

You felt his pulse in your mouth, steady and strong.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Don’t stop.”

His words were a spark to the fire inside you. His blood was like a drug. You couldn’t talk where you ended and he began.

His hands roamed over your back, fingers tracing every curve, pressing you closer as if he couldn’t bear any distance between you. The way he held you, the way he breathed your name—it was like he was offering every part of himself to you

When you finally pulled back, Bucky’s eyes were heavy-lidded. He reached up, brushing his thumb over your lips, smearing the faint trace of his own blood as he gazed at you, his hazy eyes a mixture of wonder and desire.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, his voice a low growl.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to the mark you’d left, your tongue flicking over the wound as he shivered. You could feel his pulse slowing, his heartbeat returning to a steady rhythm as the euphoria settled over him. He looked almost dazed, a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he gazed up at you.

“You really think Eric would understand?” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with a dark humour.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “He wouldn’t,” you savoured the warmth beneath your hands. “And I don’t care. This… this is ours.”

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a shiver up your spine. 

The feeding continued, more frequently, and you both realised the connection you felt went beyond survival in battle.

The first time you felt each other’s pleasure in bed, it hit you both like a wave, powerful and dizzying, sweeping through you so intensely that you weren’t sure where your body ended and his began. His pleasure sparked in your core, racing along your nerves like electricity, feeding back into him, and then doubling again within you. The feeling grew in an endless loop.

Every gasp, every moan became a shared experience, each sensation reverberating between you in dizzying echoes. His touch, as he moved within you, left you quivering; his breath against your neck seemed to burn, intensifying every rush of desire until you could barely breathe.

It was all-consuming.

And then, once, you’d fed from him in the midst of it, your lips against his neck as his pulse thundered beneath your mouth. The second your teeth broke skin, a flood of his essence surged through you, a rush so potent, so intoxicating, you nearly lost yourself in it. 

It was more than pleasure; it was pure, unfathomable ecstasy, a high that pulled both of you into an untethered oblivion.

Afterward, both of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined. It was as though pieces of yourselves had fused. It was the most intense connection you’d ever felt, something neither of you could put into words. Even if you could, it would never do it justice. 

In the silences you shared, you knew that no other pleasure could ever compare to what you shared.

—

The mist hung thick around the old Hydra outpost, cloaking it in a damp chill that seeped into your skin, even with your heightened senses. The place reeked of decay and rot. A vampire nest thrived in the old base— newly turned vampires hiding from the world, growing stronger, more feral with each night that passed.

They killed people. They turned people.

You, Bucky, Eric Brooks, and John Walker were there to wipe them out before they could spread their sickness further.

Eric took point, his silhouette sharp in the mist as he motioned for you and Bucky to fan out around him.

“Close ranks.” His voice was barely a whisper. “No one goes in solo."

You nodded, knowing better than to push against his authority. 

John, off to the side, gave Bucky a wry look. "Better keep up, Barnes.”

You could smell the faintest whiff of fear from John—though he’d never admit it. 

You moved forward, sinking deeper into the ruins, stopped by cracked concrete walls that loomed like tombstones.

Your eyes met Bucky’s. 

As you scaled the wall together, Bucky’s fingers brushing the concrete just behind yours.

John huffed below, struggling to keep up. His irritation crackled in the air as he muttered, “I thought we were both supersoldiers.”

“You’re getting slow, Walker,” Bucky said, his voice a low rasp, though he didn’t look down.

Once at the top, you peered down into the yard below. The stench hit you—stale human blood, mould, the faint copper tang of vampire blood. You all dropped down with a quiet thud, though John was louder than you’d like him to be. 

“Left flank,” Eric instructed, motioning toward the entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded, gripping the hilt of your knife, feeling its hunger.

Bucky moved beside you, ready, his presence as familiar as your own heartbeat. John and Eric fanned out to the right, slipping into the murky depths of the compound with grim determination.

The first vampire appeared just as you and Bucky reached the door, its eyes blazing red in the dim light. It had time to hiss, but not to scream. You launched yourself at it, your knife slicing through. 

A second figure lunged at Bucky, but before it could touch him, you were there, your blade found the vampire’s heart.

Bucky grinned, a wild, reckless glimmer in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged wordlessly, almost casually.

Inside the base, the halls were narrow and cold, every corner shrouded in shadows. Bloodstains smeared the walls, and the smell of decay lingered thickly in the air. You moved quickly, every step calculated, every breath measured. The vampires were emerging in hoards now, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the thrill of a fight. They came at you in waves—fangs bared, claws extended, feral eyes blazing.

One raked its nails across your shoulder, tearing into muscle. You winced, and Bucky’s eyes snapped to you, feeling the sharp pain sear through him, too. He yanked it off, his fist connecting with its jaw with a brutal crack. You pivoted, driving your knife through its chest, twisting until you felt the resistance give way.

John staggered past, panting as he took down a vampire, his face slick with sweat. He cast a sidelong glance at you and Bucky, frustration etched deep into his scowl. “How are you both running circles around us?”

“Stay focused, Walker,” Eric barked, but you could tell he’d heard John. He’d noticed how your movements mirrored Bucky’s, how you flinched when he did, even how you were breathing in time with each other. Eric’s gaze lingered too long, as if he was convincing himself something he didn’t want to believe.

“You’ve been off the blood serum for a while,” Blade murmured suddenly, his voice low and directed at you. “What have you been feeding on, kid?”

“Animal blood” you said quietly, keeping your gaze neutral, slashing down another vampire with ease.

Eric’s knuckle tightened, and you knew he didn’t believe you. He’d taught you everything you knew, raised you like a sister. And here you were, deceiving him with half-truths.

Before he could respond, another wave of vampires rushed you from the darkness, cutting the conversation short. 

Blade fought beside you, taking in every detail of the fight, every flinch, every glance you shared with Bucky.

“If you’re feeding on something else, you need to tell me.” He stepped closer, beheading a bloodsucker without even looking at it. “Now.”

You wanted to tell him, to explain the connection you shared with Bucky, and asked if he knew what the hell was going on, but the words caught in your throat. 

The fear of his disapproval held you back. He had warned you so many times against crossing that line, of giving into the hunger that all vampires struggled to control. And yet… Bucky had been different. 

You shoved Eric back, drawing his attention to the fight. “Save it for later,” you said, your voice clipped. “We’ve got company.”

You turned, facing down the horde with Bucky at your side, the two of you tearing through the vampires with an intensity that bordered on frenzy. Each kill was swift— brutal. Your knife left trails of gore in your wake, while Bucky’s fists shattered skulls with merciless precision.

At one point, you felt the burn of a blade slicing across your forearm, a deep, ragged cut that sent a surge of pain up your arm. But before you could react, Bucky flinched beside you, clutching his own arm as if he’d been wounded too. 

His gaze shifted back and forth between you and him. He moved in close, his voice barely a whisper as he muttered, “This isn’t normal.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. You didn’t know what was happening.

The final vampire fell, its scream echoing down the blood-stained halls. The four of you stood in the aftermath, panting, bruised, and blood-soaked. The air was thick with the scent of the undead.

Eric’s gaze shifted to Bucky. “This shouldn’t be possible,” he muttered, almost to himself. “A blood bonded daywalker…”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You didn’t know what a blood bond was, never even heard of it. But the way Eric said it made your heart skip a beat.

Eric’s gaze softened for a brief moment, a shadow of pity flickering across his face. “If this is what I think it is…”

Eric didn’t press any further, but as you moved toward the exit, his words lingered in your mind, haunting and unshakeable. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky, you didn’t know.

And maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.

—

As the four of you trudged out of the Hydra base, John caught up next to Bucky with a skeptical glance. His breath hung in clouds around them in the night air, but he ignored the cold, eyes narrowed on Bucky’s calm, steady pace.

"Alright, Barnes," he muttered, keeping his voice low so you and Eric wouldn’t hear. "You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on? Did you get a new serum or something?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb,” John snapped, frustration creeping into his tone. “I’m not blind. You’re faster. Stronger. You and..." He glanced in your direction before lowering his voice even more. "You both are."

Bucky shrugged, “Guess I’ve been working out,” he replied coolly, brushing John off with the kind of indifference that only seemed to make him angrier.

“That’s not funny.” John’s frustration was barely concealed.

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, watching as you spoke quietly with Eric up ahead. 

“I told you, Walker,” he brushed off, “maybe you’re just getting slow.

—

The safe house was dark and quiet, a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. 

You barely had time to breathe before Bucky’s hand wrapped around your arm. He guided you into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Bucky’s lifted you to sit on the edge of the sink, his eyes taking in the blood on your shoulder, concern flickering across his face. 

The cut wasn’t closing as quickly as he’d like it to, your shoulder throbbing faintly— so did his. 

“Let me see it,” he said, voice low but intense, as he reached for the hem of your shirt. You started to protest, but he was insistently stubborn.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, but even you could hear the strain in your voice. 

Without another word, he took off your tactical gear, the cool air brushing over the cut on your back. His eyes darted over the wound. 

Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his own shirt. “You know it’ll help you heal faster,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours before he tilted his head, offering his neck to you.

Your lips met his, almost desperate. You were satisfying a hunger as he pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair, your nails grazing his skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Then, slowly, you angled his neck.

You could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, as you pressed soft, lingering kisses on his skin. 

Finally, you bit down.

A euphoric thrill coursed through you as his blood flowed into your mouth, filling you with a euphoric sensation that spread through every nerve, igniting something primal within both of you.

Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. His breaths came faster as he tilted his head back, a low, almost pleading sound escaping him. Each swallow of his blood was a pleasure so vast it felt spiritual. His fingers tangled in your hair, nails digging into your skin.

The moment was so intense that neither of you heard the door creak open.

“What the fuck…” John’s voice was harsh and full of shock.

You jerked back, catching John’s wide eyes. He took in the scene— your mouth still stained with Bucky’s blood, his arm around your waist. His confusion morphed into anger. “Are you… drinking his blood?”

Eric was right behind him, his rage thunderous. For a moment, he looked between you and Bucky, piecing it together with a calm that was worse than John’s horror. 

“This is what you call animal blood,” Eric said in a quiet accusation.

You glanced at Bucky, whose face had gone rigid. He didn’t pull away from you, his hand still resting protectively on your waist.

“I… I can explain,” you started, but even you weren’t sure what to say.

Eric’s gaze shifted from you to Bucky, a flicker of recognition in his eyes that turned grim. He muttered under his breath, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

-to be continued(?)

shall I make a part 3 or turn it into a series?

[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

[themorningsunshine]

Pie - eyed over you

Mafia - Baker AU 

Masterlist                         Series Masterlist

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder and weapons 

Word count - 3.3k

a/n - This is my first time writing an AU and I am super nervous (also because I have combined two things I can just not write about, weapons and cooking). Please let me know what you think.

Rain was pouring heavily on the roof of the shed and he wasn't sure if the old sheds meekly covering the building could contain them much longer. He couldn't care less.

He walks out of the building and into the rain, wiping his left arm on his dry coat to wipe off the blood covering it. The pouring rain caresses his face but does nothing to the ever-present frown on his forehead and the grimace on his lips.

He used to love the rain as a kid. The gentleness of the droplets, the smell of rain, and the puddles. It was so much easier back then. So innocent. He closes his eyes as droplets slide their way all over him. They touch him like they don't know what he has just done.

His frown deepens as images claw into his mind once again. He clenches his fist remembering how it had taken him mere 10 seconds to shoot 3 bullets straight into the man's head. The killing had become easier over the years. Picking the bullet and shooting straight into the target had become second nature to him.

What hadn't become easier was the aftermath. The guilt that somehow always gnawed its way into his heart. The question was there any other way?

With his eyes still closed, he brings his face towards the sky, daring the rain to wash away his thoughts the same way it has washed away the blood that stuck to his metal arm not so long ago.

He likes the rain for a completely different reason now.

It provides him with an escape.

From his mind.

His thoughts

The images. The man screaming, begging him to stop and he doesn't even feel disgusted by himself when he doesn't even falter. He left his men to take care of the body.

A face lingers in his mind, pushing away all the dark thoughts. His ma "Bucky "

It's like he can hear her call out to him, urging him to come back home.

She would have hated how he turned out.

But he tells himself he doesn't care.

It didn't matter what his ma would have thought about him. She wasn't here. She didn't have to know.

He snaps his eyes open when he doesn't feel the rain falling on his face anymore. He can still hear the raindrops thudding on the roofs of the buildings. He looks up to see a huge umbrella over his head, shielding him from the rain.

He frowns and follows the handle of the outrageous floral print object only to be met by the sight that was going to change his life forever.

The first thing he saw when his eyes met y/e/c ones was that they held a certain softness to them that he didn't think still existed in this world. He was almost afraid to take his eyes off yours as if he was scared that you would crumble down under his gaze.

But when he brought his eyes over your face and then the rest of you, he knew it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever landed on. That even the most beautiful paintings in the world didn't hold a candle to you.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, voice so gentle, it could calm the most violent of storms.

Bucky thinks those are the most precious three words he has ever heard. He nods his head, mostly because he doesn't speak too much these days and also because it has been a very long time since someone has asked him that question.

"I am walking that way and the rain is increasing, you don't want to get drenched. Walk with me?" You ask and he thinks he would burn the whole world down to the ground with a smile on his face if you asked.

He looks at the way you are pointing and realizes that's where his car is parked. He says, "Okay" and sees as you take a step towards him, covering the both of you with your umbrella, and his senses are filled with your smell. You smell like freshly baked cookies and coffee. It's his new favorite smell.

You take a couple of steps ahead before turning towards him and he realizes he is staring. He doesn't remember the last time when somebody had enthralled him so much. For some reason, he just can't get himself to look away.

"I have not seen you around before." He says only to hear you speak again.

"Yeah, I am kind of new here. Been less than a week." You reply with a smile on your face and Bucky thinks this cursed town has just been blessed.

You look around before commenting, "It's a beautiful town." And for the love of god, he can't figure out how this part of the town which is more of a  dumpster with remnants of buildings all around can be beautiful to somebody.

"This is not really a safe place." When you look at him with confusion in your eyes, he continues, "Especially at this time of night." As if that explanation is enough. He straightens his back and tries to get the confident, mob aura he has around everyone. "What are you doing here?"

If his slightly changed demeanor throws you off guard, you don't point it out. You just bite your lip before speaking, "What if I tell you I lost my way?"

The chuckle that leaves him is involuntary. "Really? Lost your way?"

"Hey. In my defense, it's just been a week." You place your hand on your chest in fake offense.

"Where were you heading to?"

You put your hand in your pocket before taking out a piece of paper. "Here"

Bucky takes the paper from you and looks at it with furrowed brows. "Why are you walking this way? This place is at the other end of that alley." He says before pointing out to a dark alley.

You make an o shape with your mouth before turning toward where he is pointing. "Got it. Thanks."

When you reach his car and his driver opens the door for him, he turns back before saying, "Let me drop you." It doesn't sound like a request.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't want to be trouble. Also, I am not sure your car would fit in there." You said before tilting your umbrella towards yourself.

"I'll see you around." You tell him before giving him a small wave and walking away, a smile still etched on your lips.

Bucky stands there, watching you go, and realizes he didn't ask your name. But he'd be damned if he let you go in that alley alone. He asks one of his men to make sure that you reach your destination safely.

"Keep an eye from afar." He instructs him. Voice cold and commanding.

But the frown on his head and the grimace on his lips are a little less evident on the way back.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Bucky's voice bellowed around the dark room, startling everyone around him.

"S- sir, I tried." Peter bows his head before whimpering.

Steve, who has been standing beside Bucky's chair leans in to whisper, "He is just a kid, Buck."

Bucky rubs his hand over his face before looking at Peter trying his best to give him a soft look. "Okay, Peter. I don't have time for this. What exactly is the problem here? And don't tell me a full-blown story."

"S-sir, the new bakery. The owner says she isn't going to pay the money. Said something about taxes and also that, 'If I don't barge in there asking for weapons, don't barge into my place asking for money.'

Some of the men standing in the corner chuckle but are rewarded by a glare from Bucky.

"I don't have time to deal with a Baker. Did you tell her that everybody in town pays the money? It's for protection." He says, voice slightly irritated. The townspeople feared him. There was no doubt about that in his mind. Hence, they sent him money at the start of every month diligently. But sometimes, out of the blue, someone would come and try to be the savior, trying to rebel. He didn't understand what they wanted. He wasn't a monster. Over the years, he had relieved some people of paying the money on various occasions.

"I did tell her that, sir. She asked me who exactly is this protection from." Peter whispered, now slightly trembling with fear.

This piqued Bucky's interest. Over the years, nobody had ever asked his men the reason behind the money. They just obliged.

Peter continued, "I told her it's from the mob. Some of us. And she said she isn't going to pay us to do the bare minimum, to be human." Bucky leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes in annoyance.

Steve spoke up, "It's okay, Buck. I'll handle this. You know they all give in eventually."

Bucky opened his eyes and stood up from his chair. "Nope, I will come with you. This is different." He then looked at Sam who was standing at the other end of the room, "Receive the order of the weapons. The delivery is scheduled in an hour."

Same nodded his head before walking out of the room. Bucky dismissed the other men and along with Steve walked towards Peter, both of the men towering over him.

"Peter, are those crumbles of pie on your face?"

A shiver passed through Peter at his cold tone and he willed himself to speak, "She gave it to me, sir. I tried to refuse. Really did. But she said that I am just a kid and don't deserve - " Peter cut himself before he could speak too much. He somehow had the habit of always speaking about stuff that is supposed to be kept secret.

A small smile found its way to Bucky's lips but it was gone as soon as it came and he patted Peter's shoulder dismissing him. "This is different." He said to Steve before walking out of the room.

And for some reason, he was sure it was true.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

"We are here, sir."

Bucky looked up from the file he was reading to his driver and then around him. It was one of the good areas of the town where families stayed, holed up in their whole little world, the darkness of the other side not fully reaching them.

Steve instructed the driver and the guard to stay in the car as the both of them walked out. "That is the one," Steve said pointing towards something.

Bucky followed his gaze and his movements faltered for a slight second. He had never seen something so - warm.

A little bakery standing between a bookstore and a cycle stand with sweets adorning its shelves looking delicious enough to lure anybody inside—soft music playing in the little speaker placed outside. People occupying the chairs outside and inside the shop, kids running around with huge grins on their faces, every one into their own little world.

It looked lively.

Bucky couldn't remember seeing something like this in the town before. Maybe he hadn't even bothered, or maybe something had really changed. With their black sunglasses and dressed up in dark colors from head to toe, he wasn't sure if he and Steve were going to fit in, but he couldn't care less.

As they walked closer, Bucky could now see most of the shop and when his eyes landed on the sole person behind the counter, his breath hitched in his throat.

Removing his sunglasses to get a better look, he stopped in his tracks when his suspicions were confirmed.

.

It was her.

The girl with the floral umbrella and the warm smile.

The girl who had somehow crept her way into his thoughts more than he would like to admit in the past week since he had seen her.

And she was beautiful.

He saw as you stood behind the counter, handing a box to a little girl with a huge grin on your face, the girl jumping up and down in excitement as you leaned towards her to whisper something.

He then saw the little girl run out of the bakery, clutching the box to her chest towards her mother as if it was the most precious thing in the world. When his eyes went back to you, he saw how you talked to the next customer, an old lady, with the same huge grin on your face.

He hadn't noticed that he had been staring until Steve cleared his throat, a smirk on his face. Before Steve could say something, Bucky muttered, "Stay here, let me handle this." He walks towards the stops with a calculated gaze and a perfected aura of confidence.

As he opens the door to the bakery, the smell of coffee and cookies hits him hard and a feeling of warmth engulfs him.

"How can I - " Your words die in your throat when your eyes land on the familiar figure.

Bucky could swear your smile gets wider.

You compose yourself before saying, "Hey, I know you. You are the cute guy from the other day."

Bucky frowns as he takes in your words. Cute? Did you just call him cute? He had been called intimidating, scary, and even sexy. But cute? He was furious. He was anything BUT cute. Also, was he allergic to something in the shop? Why the hell was his stomach suddenly fluttering?

He also ignores the way his heart is beating quicker at the realization that you remembered him. What was happening to him today? "I am looking for y/n l/n."

Your smile turned slightly mischievous as you replied, "That would be me."

Bucky's eyes almost widened at that. "You are y/n? The owner of the bakery?"

"Yup." You said popping the p as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And the last I checked, introductions went both ways."

You raised your hand towards him for a handshake and after looking at your hand for a moment, he shook it. "I am B - James." For some reason, he didn't want you to know who he was. The nickname might give it away.

You smiled at him again before returning your hand, a little too early for Bucky's liking, "So, James. What can I get you?"

He had it all planned. It was like second nature to him. I want my money. Abide by the rules, you don't want to know the consequences. It was the usual. But for some reason, his mouth had gained a mind of its own as it said before he could comprehend, "Cupcakes"

You looked at the huge display of baked goods before looking back at him, "Which one?"

Bucky gave the display a glance, he was sure he hadn't ever tasted most of them. "What do you recommend, sweets?"

He watches as you are visibly taken aback by the nickname. A smirk find its way to his lips as he watched red color creeping up to your neck.

"I - uhm" You take a breath to compose yourself. Get it together. "These red velvet cupcakes just came out of the oven and they are kinda my favorite. So.." You look at Bucky with excitement in your eyes and he likes how passionate you are about your work.

"I'll take a box."

You smile at him before bending down to pack a box of the delicacy and he watches how you oh-so-gently pick up each piece before placing it inside the box with practiced precision.

When you hand over the box to him and your hands brush, you feel the sparks through your spine once again as when you had shaken hands.

When he puts a hand in his pocket to retrieve the money, you cut him off. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

Bucky smiles a little before replying, "Sweets, you keep giving free goods like that and you'll have to close the shop soon." He says in a teasing voice.

"I'll let you in on a secret, James." You lean towards him as if it is the most secretive thing in the world. "This is a business strategy."

He frowns a little, trying to cover the fact that he was getting too comfortable with how close the both of you were, before saying, "How's that?"

"The first order is on the house but then you come again. And again. It's really profitable."

There is this - innocence and purity in your voice that reminds him of a little child. Of old times. Easier times. And he just stares into your eyes for as long as he can, as if they could help him escape, become a portal to a time long lost.

You don't dare to move either. His eyes are the prettiest shade of blue you have ever seen. They have this intensity to them as if hiding the stories of a lifetime and you just can't get yourself to look away. You have always loved a good mystery.

Bucky clears his throat, bringing the both of you out of the daze as he brings the teasing tone back to his voice, "What makes you think I will come back?"

You chuckle a little before giving a proud smile. "Oh, you will, James. I trust my cupcakes."

He gives you another small smile as he takes a step back. This is the longest conversation he has had with a person outside his line of work in a very long time. Everybody was just too scared but he couldn't care less.

"Goodbye, sweets." He says before letting the new customer who had just entered go ahead. 

"Goodbye, James. Until next time." You add with a wink.

Bucky walks out of the bakery, his initial motive forgotten completely. From the outside, he turns back to look at you for the one last time and watches as you say something that makes the teenage boy laugh while taking out cookies from the shelf.

A moment later, you look towards the window and your eyes meet for a fleeting second. You smile at him and give him a small wave.

Bucky turns around to walk towards his car when he notices Steve standing a few feet away with a knowing smirk on his face.

Bucky rolls his eyes before muttering with clenched teeth, "Don't"

Steve doesn't ask about the money and Bucky is glad. He isn't really sure how he would answer. Whatever happened wasn't what he was expecting.  You weren't what he was expecting.

As he slid into the back seat of his car, the image of your smile when you were that close to him lingered in his mind and he couldn't stop the way his lips had pulled slightly upward.

When the car started driving, and with Steve on a phone call, he opened the box of cupcakes and picked one to take a small bite.

As he takes the first bite, the softness and the sweetness of the cake engulf him and leave him wanting more. He doesn't remember eating something this good in a long time.

And for many reasons, he will definitely visit again.  

Next part

[the-winter-spider]

I Cant Lose You | One Shot

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: Angst, happy ending

A/N: So i decided not to post the next part to invisible buuut i found this in my docs so ENJOY! Next part to invisible will be tomorroooooow 🫶🏻

------

The mission had been tense from the start, the kind where every breath feels weighted, every sound sharper and more hostile. You were deep in the enemy’s territory, with Bucky and Steve moving in coordinated silence beside you. The plan was simple, clean: get in, retrieve the intel, and get out without raising an alarm. But simplicity has a way of unraveling in the field.

It happened as you were crossing a narrow bridge suspended over a steep drop in the facility. Bucky was a few steps ahead, his steps purposeful and focused, eyes scanning for movement in the dimly lit corridors. You were behind him, keeping an eye on your surroundings, and that’s when you saw it—the faint red dot creeping along Bucky’s shoulder, inching its way toward his head.

In a split-second, adrenaline took over. You didn’t have time to shout or warn him; instinct propelled you forward, reaching out to shove him out of the path of the sniper’s aim. Your hands collided with Bucky’s shoulder, and he stumbled to the side, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the laser at the last moment.

The bullet whizzed past, so close that you felt the heat of it graze the top of your head, ruffling your hair and leaving your skin tingling. Everything blurred into chaos after that.

“Sniper!” Steve’s voice rang out, his shield already up, glancing off another shot that was fired from a different direction. Bucky, having steadied himself, immediately spun back toward you, his face stricken with shock and anger.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice raw with a mixture of fear, panic and fury. But there was no time for a response.

You, Steve, and Bucky sprang into action, Steve moving to cover you both as more gunfire erupted. Bucky’s eyes kept darting back to you, though, his brows knitted in frustration and worry, even as he returned fire at the enemy agents now pouring in.

After a series of quick movements—ducking, dodging, and retaliating against your attackers—you finally managed to escape the sniper’s line of sight, though the firefight was far from over. Bucky was on edge, barely speaking, his glances sharp and laced with anger, even as he fought to keep you both alive.

The three of you pressed forward, securing the intel and making your way back toward the extraction point with the enemies hot on your heels. When you finally boarded the jet and the door sealed shut behind you, the adrenaline drained, leaving silence and the weight of what had just happened between you and Bucky.

As soon as you sat down, Bucky whirled around to face you, his eyes dark with a storm of emotions he’d kept at bay during the fight.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped. “You could’ve been killed! Do you even understand that?”

His voice was loud, filled with a mix of anger and hurt, and all you could do was stare back, breathless, still reeling from everything that had happened. You wanted to tell him you’d do it again in a heartbeat, that protecting him was worth any risk to yourself. But your words fell silent, swallowed by the guilt and fear lingering between you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off. “Do you know how reckless that was? Running headfirst into a line of fire? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

You flinched, both from his tone and from the truth in his words, but all you could think about was the image of him out there, narrowly avoiding enemy fire, and the fact that you would have done anything to make sure he was safe—even if it meant putting yourself in danger. The silence that followed throughout the jet, the rest of the way home was antagonizing. Bucky steered clear of you the entire time, keeping myself stationed at the front of the jet while you were at the back. Steve made is way over to you, handing you a water before double checking you werent injured and the top of tour head really was okay, he sighed "You got lucky" before he stepped away taking a seat by Bucky. 

Your mind was blank the rest of the flight till you landed and he got up, surely the 3 hour flight of pure silence was enough for him to have calmed down, right? “Bucky, I—”

“No!" He shot back instantly whipping around "You don’t get to justify it, We’re a team, and you don’t get to put yourself at risk like that. Not for me, not for anyone!” He screamed

“Enough,” Steve interjected, his tone sharp but even. He glanced between the two of you, then fixed his gaze on Bucky. “You need to cool off.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, fists clenching as he looked away, clearly fighting to hold back words he’d regret. Without another word, he stormed off the jet, the sound of his boots heavy against the metal floor.

You sat back, the sting of his words lingering. Steve watched Bucky disappear down the ramp, then sighed, glancing back at you. “Give him some time. He’s… he’s not wrong, though. What you did was reckless, it was stupid…Bucky could have taken that bullet, you couldn't have. Were going to have to talk about it in the morning”

The knot in your stomach tightened, a mixture of anger and guilt settling there. “Are you telling me this as a friend or as my captain?” you asked, looking at Steve with a heavy heart.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he let out a long sigh. “As both.”

You nodded, the weight of his words hitting you hard. Steve gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he exited, leaving you alone in the silence of the jet.

The reality of what happened started to replay in your mind, each moment sharper than the last. The risks you took, the decisions you made—they all came rushing back with a clarity that made your heart pound faster.

You weren’t reckless, you told yourself. You’d do it all over again if it meant protecting Bucky. His life, his safety… it felt like they mattered more than your own. And yet, you couldn’t shake the memory of the anger in his eyes, the frustration in his voice.

The thoughts spiralled, it had to be you, it could never be him. You couldn't possibly live your life without him, he could hate you all he wanted but as long as he was still breathing you would do it again Oh god what if he hated you? What if he requested for you to no longer be on missions with you? What if….your chest tightened as the weight of everything sank in. Your breathing hitched as the fear you’d pushed aside for the mission came crashing down on you all at once. It was too much, too fast. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the feeling that you’d done something irreparably wrong.

Your hands began to tremble, and the walls of the jet seemed to close in around you. Panic clawed its way up your throat, your heart hammering as you struggled to ground yourself, to calm down, but the storm in your mind only grew louder.

It was as if all the emotions you’d held back—fear, guilt, anger—were suffocating you. The jet felt smaller and smaller, and you pressed a hand to your chest, desperate to find some relief, some way to breathe again.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, caught in the throes of panic, your mind racing in an endless loop of fear and self-doubt. But the thought that kept resurfacing, the one that hurt the most, was that maybe Bucky was right.

Maybe you had been reckless. And maybe, just maybe, you deserved the anger he’d shown.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the jet. The silence around you felt thick, pressing down, wrapping around you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You stood up, needing movement, air, something to break through the crushing feeling in your chest.

As soon as you were on your feet, your legs felt unsteady, but you started pacing, hoping the movement would help you breathe. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding faster with every loop around the narrow space. Your breaths came quicker, shorter, until you could barely catch them at all.

A cold sweat broke out across your skin as the room seemed to close in, the walls shifting, blurring at the edges. You tried to take a deep breath, but it was like swallowing glass. Your chest tightened, clenching inwards with each failed attempt to fill your lungs. Panic clawed up your throat, relentless and raw, choking you with every passing second.

Your hands began to shake, fingers tingling with numbness. You pressed them to your sides, hoping the pressure would help, but it only made the sensation sharper, like a warning that something inside was breaking.

You leaned against the wall, your forehead pressed to the cool metal as you fought to ground yourself. But every thought spun out of control, everything a mess in your mind. Bucky’s anger, Steve’s disappointment, the mission replaying in fragments—each one tearing through you, louder and more chaotic.

A small sound escaped your lips, half a gasp, half a whimper, and you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle it, but it only made you feel more trapped. You couldn’t stop the spiral, the way every breath was too shallow, too desperate, your vision tunnelling as the edges went dark.

Your legs gave out, and you slumped down to the floor, your back against the cold wall. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rocking slightly, trying to find something steady to hold on to. The air in your lungs felt thin, useless, and every inhale felt like it barely reached your throat.

You were unravelling, losing control, and you couldn’t stop it. The realisation made the panic surge all over again, until you could barely see, barely hear, barely feel anything but the racing of your own heart and the suffocating silence surrounding you.

Each passing second seemed to stretch out, leaving you alone with your spiralling thoughts and the overwhelming weight pressing down on your chest. You’d never felt so trapped in your own body, fighting for breath, for calm, for anything that felt real.

-------

Bucky paced furiously across his room, the soles of his boots nearly grinding into the floor as he replayed the mission in his mind. He was still in his tactical gear, smeared with dust and the faint marks of their close call. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he thought of you—sweet, kind, beautiful you—throwing yourself in harm’s way to shield him, risking everything in an instant. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would you do that? Why would you ever take that risk for him?

A knock at the door broke him from his spiraling thoughts. It was Steve, fresh out of the shower, no longer in his gear, looking calm and collected—everything Bucky wasn’t. Steve’s eyes flicked to Bucky’s uniform. “You’re still in your gear?”

Bucky shrugged, jaw tightening. He wasn’t ready to let it go, still too on edge, too frustrated. Steve watched him with a steady gaze. “You didn’t have to yell at her.”

Bucky turned, exasperation clear in his expression. “You were there, Steve. You saw what she did. She pushed me out of the goddamn way when that sniper had his sight on me!”

Steve sighed, leaning against the doorway. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor pacing like that. And you know, you would’ve done the same for her.”

“Yes, so?” Bucky snapped, his voice sharp and defensive.

“Come on, pal,” Steve said, his voice softening as he looked at Bucky knowingly. “You would’ve done the same for her.” His eyes lingered on Bucky, an unspoken understanding passing between them, the implication of his words sinking in.

Bucky’s eyes glistened “Stevie it barely missed her head” Bucky took in a shaky breath “She was almost gone, I almost lost her, that bullet would have hit me in the shoulder i could have taken it, but one hair lower it would have….”

Steve uncrossed his arms, sighing he reached out squeezing Bucky’s shoulder “I know”

Bucky faltered, his chest tightening, his anger softening for a moment as both hope and doubt flickered across his mind. His voice was barely a whisper. “Where is she?”

Steve’s face softened further. “Probably in her room. She was the last one off the jet.” Steve turned his head up slightly to speak to the A.I. “Friday? Where’s Y/N?”

The AI’s calm voice filled the room. “Agent Y/N is still aboard the jet.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a confused look. It had been over an hour since they’d returned. Without a word, they both headed toward the hangar, quickening their pace as unease filled the air.

“She didn’t get hurt, did she?” Bucky asked, worry clear in his voice.

“No,” Steve assured him, “I checked her over myself.” He paused, noticing Bucky’s skeptical look. “Thoroughly.”

They picked up the pace, concern edging into panic as they approached the jet. When they entered, they found you there, huddled in the corner of the seating area, arms wrapped around yourself, breathing fast and shallow, eyes unfocused and filled with panic. Bucky’s heart clenched at the sight.

“Doll?,” he called softly, rushing to your side, dropping down to his knees in front of you. His hands found their way to your face, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes met his, wide and tearful, and a soft, choked gasp escaped your lips as you gripped onto his shirt, holding on like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Steve’s voice broke through the silence. “Friday, what’s going on?”

Friday’s response was calm, but the words made Bucky’s stomach drop. “It appears Agent Y/N is experiencing a panic attack.”

Bucky’s face softened with worry, his hands steady as he stroked your cheeks, trying to draw you back to him. “It’s okay. I’m here. Breathe with me, alright?” His voice was soft, a gentle anchor in the chaos of your mind.

He inhaled deeply, exaggerating each breath, trying to guide you with him. His fingers ran through your hair, his touch steady, comforting. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re here with me. Just breathe.”

Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt as you tried to match his breaths, each one a struggle, but his presence steadied you, grounding you little by little. He held you close, whispering soft reassurances, repeating, “I got you…..you’re safe….I’m right here.”

Slowly, the panic began to ebb, your breaths evening out, the warmth of his voice and touch anchoring you in the present.

When you finally manage to catch your breath, it’s still jagged, still shaky, but enough to force words out.

“I can’t lose you,” you say, voice barely a whisper, each word choked and strained. “I couldn’t lose you. I can’t live without you.” Your hand clenches tighter in Bucky’s shirt as you stammer, “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.”

Steve glances between you two, understanding dawning on his face. With a quiet nod, he steps back, offering you both a moment of privacy. “I’m gonna get you some water,” he murmurs, but you barely register his voice. All your focus is on Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, his gaze locked on yours.

“You’ll never lose me,” he says softly, his hands holding your face with a gentleness that tugs at your heart. His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tremor, his eyes dark with something that goes deeper than fear, deeper than anger.

“I almost did, I could have” you murmur, and his face shifts, guilt flashing across his features.

Bucky’s thumb sweeps over your cheek. “I can’t lose you either, i could have lost you, I -I, You… you can’t be doing that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His voice cracks, his own vulnerability laid bare. “I know that’s not saying a lot, but my life… it’s been hell. And you—you’re everything to me.”

Your heart pounds as his words sink in, the warmth of his hands on your face grounding you, drawing you closer. You reach for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him in until there’s barely any space between you.

And then, as if pulled by an unbreakable force, his lips find yours, a soft, tender kiss that feels like the culmination of everything unsaid between you. His hands slide from your cheeks to cradle you closer, his touch delicate, reverent, as if you’re something precious—something he’s finally allowed to hold.

When you part, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. He looks at you with a softness that makes you ache, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, “I love you.”

In that moment, nothing else exists. Just you and him, finally admitting the truth you’ve both known all along.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

obsessed with bodyguard x mob 😫

what about something where reader actually fights for bucky's life, maybe some attempt to k*** him, lot of fights, gunshots, just action with angst but happy ending😖

xoxo ly! tysm for your writing! 💗

Fighting For You » Bucky Barnes (AU)

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Bodyguard!Female Reader

Summary: You fight to keep Bucky safe and to protect him.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, guns, violence, blood, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to my 🕷️ anon for requesting this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

“Boss?” You poked your head in his office. “Are you ready to go home?” You asked.

“I’ll be done in 5 minutes.” Bucky tells you. “Wait for me in the lobby.” He says.

You nodded and closed the door to his office behind you before making your way to the lobby. You sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area and scrolled through your phone while waiting for him.

That’s when you got a weird feeling. You glanced up from your phone to see a small group of people. You assumed they were just walking by so you didn’t think much of it and tried not to let it bother you. You were pulled from your thoughts when you got a text from Bucky.

Boss: On my way to the lobby

You smiled at the text and continued to wait patiently for him. You heard the elevator ding and Bucky got off of it. As you stood up from the chair, you seen one of the people outside pull out a gun and aim it at Bucky, making your eyes go wide.

“Get down!” You shouted.

You used all of your strength to pull Bucky down behind the chairs to avoid the bullets and glass flying towards you guys. Your hands scrambled to get your gun out of your bag. It was already loaded so you poked your head out from the side of the chair and aimed your gun at them and shot at them, taking one of them down.

“Stay here.” You whispered to Bucky.

He nodded and watched you quickly move behind a different chair on the other side of the room. The people thought it would be the perfect opportunity to come inside and fight Bucky or try to shoot him. Bucky did a good job trying to dodge them. What the people didn’t know is that you were on the opposite side of the lobby.

You shot at the person throwing punches at Bucky, purposely missing just to get him away from him. That’s when he started coming towards you. You shot him in the leg to slow him down causing him to fall to the floor.

What you didn’t know was that there was someone behind you. He put his arm around your throat, putting you in a headlock causing you to drop your gun on the floor. You used all of your strength to elbow him in his side hard enough to get him to let go of you. You turned around and punched him hard enough to knock him out.

You quickly picked up your gun from the floor and shot at the another person. That’s when you ran out of bullets. You seen your bag by Bucky and couldn’t get to it.

“Bucky, bullets!” You say, pointing at your bag.

Bucky nodded and rummaged through your bag, finding extra bullets with ease and tossed them to you. You reloaded your gun and aimed it at someone trying to get to Bucky, but someone came up next to you and smacked it out of your hand. You turned your head without thinking and got a punch in the face.

You quickly regained your surroundings and fought back. The person kept making you walk backwards as the two of you fought till your back hit the wall behind you. You didn’t have much leverage without your gun so you threw punches and kicks to defend yourself.

Bucky seen your gun on the floor a couple feet away from him. He made sure the coast was clear before grabbing it.

“Y/N!” Bucky quickly caught your attention. “Catch!” He says.

Bucky tossed your gun to you and you caught it with one hand with ease. You held the barrel of the gun against the person and shot him. The guy screamed in pain and grabbed his shoulder before falling to the floor.

“I’m gonna give you guys 3 seconds to get the hell out of here before I blow each one of your brains out!” You shouted, pointing your gun at them.

The remaining people could tell you weren’t lying when they heard the sound of your gun making a cocking noise. They quickly picked up their unconscious and injured friends and left. Bucky stood there, watching them run away in amusement. He was more than impressed that you scared them away.

When they were out of your sight, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and unloaded the bullets from your gun into your hand. You put your gun and bullets in your bag and looked at Bucky. Bucky immediately got concerned when he noticed a cut on your lip and your bloody nose.

“Your nose and lip are bleeding.” Bucky says with concern in his voice.

“I’m fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “Let go home and get cleaned up.” You say.

When you and Bucky got home, you two got out of your bloody clothes and took showers. You grabbed the first aid kit from underneath your bathroom sink and went to Bucky’s bedroom.

“Your cuts need to be cleaned out.” You say, taking a seat on his bed.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” Bucky says.

“It wasn’t a question, Mr. Barnes.” You said in all seriousness. “Sit.” You demanded, pointing at the spot of the bed next to you.

Bucky obeyed your demand and sat down next to you. You checked out his injuries before getting anything out of the first aid kit. He just had some bruises and a small cut on the bridge of his nose and a small cut on his jaw. You used a tissue to wipe away the excess and dry blood before putting alcohol on his cuts so they didn’t get infected. Bucky made a small hissing noise and slightly winced when the alcohol got in his cuts.

“You big baby.” You giggled. “You’re a mob boss and alcohol getting in your cuts is making you flinch.” You teasingly say.

“No…” Bucky lied. “I’m taking it like a man.” He says.

“Yea, sure you are, boss man.” You say with a small giggle.

You went back to focusing on patching his cuts up which didn’t take long. You were about to get up to put the first aid kit away and throw away the bloody tissues, but Bucky grabbed your arm and sat you back down on his bed.

“You need to be patched up too.” He says.

“I’m fine, Bucky.” You insisted.

“You have a cut on your lip and bloody nose.” He points out.

“My nose stopped bleeding before I got in the shower.” You said.

“At least let me take care of the cut on your lip.” He pleads.

“Fine.” You mumbled.

Bucky used to tissue to clean the dry blood from your nose and the excess blood from the small cut on your lip. He was being very gentle with you. He has a soft spot for you. He then applied alcohol to the cut on your lip. You made a hissing noise when you felt the sting of the alcohol getting into the cut.

“All done.” He says.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

“You’re welcome, darling.” He says softly.

You grabbed the first aid kit and put it away and threw away the bloody tissues. You then went back to Bucky’s bedroom to see if he needed anything else before going to bed.

“Do you need anything else, boss?” You asked.

“Actually, I do need one more thing.” Bucky says.

“What is it?” You asked.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He walked up to you and kissed you passionately, catching you off guard. You immediately kissed him back. He pulled away after a few seconds, looking deep in your eyes.

“Thank you for fighting for me and protecting me earlier.” He says.

“You’re welcome.” You smile. “I’d do it again.” You say.

Bucky kissed you once more, but this kiss was more like a goodnight kiss.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Bucky says softly.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You say, looking in his blue eyes.

You walked out of his bedroom and went to your own room down the hall. You laid down on your bed, smiling contently. You’re happy to know that Bucky can count on you to fight for him and to protect him. That’s how you went to bed. So did Bucky.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[beloveds-embrace]

Heya Noon!! So recently I’ve been thinking nonstop about tf141 x special forces/venom! reader. Let me explain! Tf141 found the reader on a mission and the reader was an in progress experiment. Kinda like Hydra with Bucky if you like marvel. So they save the reader and they thought it was just going to be normal after that and somehow she gets added to the task force. And over the few months of bonding and missions they’ve had together the guys realized she would often talk to herself (to venom), eat much more than you could expect her body to be able to contain, etc. but pushed it off as nothing but when the guys get hurt on a mission the reader protects them and ends up letting venom come out. What do you think their reactions would be? Would they still like the reader? If you have time I love to see an imagine from your point of view with this idea!

Lots of love🫶

Enjoy!! <3

Maybe it’s routine extraction turned into an ambush. Trapped, surrounded, and outnumbered, and to top it all off Gaz is injured. All of them are, but his injury requires him to be pulled back to to take cover.

Your breaths came ragged, your heart pounding in you ears. The world slowed, each gunshot a distant echo. Then, you heard it- the familiar deep, guttural voice rumbling from within.

Let me help.

“No,” you hissed, eyes wide and wild. You felt it stirring, the dark entity that lived beneath her skin, the result of twisted experiments you barely survived. For months, you had kept it at bay, refusing to become a monster, to potentially hurt the ones who had saved you and given you your life back. But now…

Your gaze flicked to your team- yours- pinned down, bleeding, fighting for their lives. The choice was no longer yours.

Do it.

You closed your eyes, and when they reopened, they were no longer yours

Venom erupted from you body, a mass of writhing tendrils and razor-sharp fangs. You and Venom moved as one. Bullets bounced off your shifting form. Enemies screamed, weapons falling uselessly as they were lifted and tossed like ragdolls. Venom’s laughter echoed, a terrifying symphony of power and rage.

When the dust settled, the battlefield was silent. They stared, wide-eyed, weapons half-raised. Your body trembled, the monstrous form receding as you fell to your knees. Venom’s voice, now a whisper, coiled in your mind even as you begin to sob and heave.

You needed me.

You glanced at your team through teary eyes, fear and shame warring within you. Would they see you as an ally still- or a monster? John stepped forward first, his expression unreadable, and then he knelt down to drag you into his arms.

“I’m sorry- John, please, I’m so sorry. Don’t hate me, please-“

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “We don’t hate you. We don’t. But for now, we need to leave. Though… thank you.”

The others nodded, their trust tentative but present, still there and none of them looking at you like you were a monster. Johnny even came to hold you instead of Price, patting your back gently and mumbling about how ‘fucking sick ya looked, bonnie’. You exhaled, relief mingling with exhaustion and leaning your weight against him.

Today, and hopefully for far longer, you will not be hated or seen as a monster. They will not abandon you.

[moonstruksandco]

⋆｡devil i know 𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

PROLOGUE ; PLAYING GOD

pairing : mob!stucky x mob!reader

summary : your father risked his life for somebody else, now you have to work for him and his best friend

warnings : eventual smut (hehehehe) ; soft mean bucky (meaner reader) and steve ; hard headed reader with a violence problem ; meaner bucky, colder steve ; classism ; daddy issues ; hella violence ; fem!reader ; trailerpark!reader

a/n : yeeaaaaaaaaaaaaa i'm sort of out of my mind writing this, cuz i have a an unfinished tvd chap in drafts but i couldn't help myself, the daydreams went CRAZZYYYYY and I miss infinity war steve and cap and winter soilder look! this is dedicated to my sun ; reblogs and feedback are loved and appreciated

Its ridiculous

And you think you don’t care.

Well.

Its hard to ease into it, but you still know you should.

He sacrificed himself for someone else.

Took a bullet for someone else.

Someone that was never going to be you.

And now, he’s in front of you.

Not the one striving for his life, the one who got to live.

You know this life well. And you thrive on it. Born to fight, raised to live.

But never for him.

“He told me to watch over you,” He says with his golden hair and beard, looking at you seriously.

His eyes are too blue.

His office, or what he chooses to show face in, is cold. Everything is white or beige. Big open windows behind him, desk and monitor shining on his face.

“So…I have to work? For you. That were his last words?” Before he became a vegetable, you don’t say.

You’re clad in attire that almost didn’t even get you into his floor. Theres an oversized leather jacket draped over the chair next to you, denim skirt, groza strapped right underneath (and another in said jacket), white tank and low top sneakers ;because its blazing outside, obviously. Sweat still sticking, mind the very ventilated room.

You think back;

“I’m just here to see Steve Rogers,” you say to the point of exhaustion to the receptionist - secretary whatever.

You think if she was more gentle and nice about it, you would’ve given her grace. But she wasn’t, and hasn’t.

“Yes, but I told you I’ve spoken to him on the phone, and I’ve shown you the number that I could see you obviously recognized, plus the text he sent to come at this time.”

She rolls her eyes.

You decide you’re going to maim her.

“I’ve heard this all before,” She responds in a bored tone, “If you’re not on the sched-”

You’re beginning to pull out the dagger under your skirt.

A hand stops you.

“She’s fine. Let us up.”

You immediately pull on his wrist in retaliation. You think you’re about to break it, but he meets yours eyes.

Eyes to blue. But ones you don’t recognize.

And he stands by Steve now, hands clasped on his front.

You think he said he said his name was Bucky in the silent elevator.

He continues, “I’m not going to take whats owed to yo-”

“Well, he wanted you to, no?” you finish.

You cross your arms, leaning back slightly in the chair. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Steve sighs, look away from you, then back to you. “We need you to keep doing what you do best. But this time, for a cause that matters.”

“And that cause is…?” You sit up, confusion evident.

He stalls, as if confused. “You’re father.”

You slack by down, not amused and definitely not interesting

Steve continues, “Just pretend to be my assistant, do what you do best for him, and I’ll protect you.”

You laugh, a short, bitter sound that echoes in the sterile room. "Protect me?” He must be joking.”I think I’ll be fine without it.”

“You know who your father is, right?”

Your face morph into something close to irration.

Its not Steve, its the other blue eyes, and you look straight into his eyes, Bucky you think, “Did I stutter?”

The tension in the room thickens, Steve interjects, placing his palm up to interrupt whatever his (Bucky?) rebuttal was, “This isn’t just about you. It’s about preventing something bigger.”

Your eyes leave a pair of blues, to meet another;

Steve continues, “No one knows what happened. If they know the state he’s in, or even wher-”

“So what? I play assistant

“Exactly.” His shadow says.

You don’t like Bucky.

“You already have one. The bitchy one.”

Steve sighs, “You’re just a cover. You’ll be doing the real work.”

You lean back again, contemplating. "Fine. But if this goes south, I'm out," you say, standing up grabbing your coat.

Steve nods, "Understood,” He stands up when you do respectfully. We start tomorrow."

You scoff again opening the door to exit, “We start next Monday.”

The door closes behind you with a soft click, leaving Steve and Bucky in a tense silence.

Bucky turns to Steve, "Are you sure about this?"

Steve nods, "She was his right hand” He looks back at the seat you were sat on.”No ones going to do it as best as her.”

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

working on chap 2 ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎

[brunchable]

LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader

Part III

Part One | Part Two | Final Words: 11.1K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence, Action (Fighting Scenes: Steve vs Bucky), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Emotionally heavy? Death. Sneak Peak: Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you turned back to the window. “I’ve got people waiting for us at my father’s old place. People who want to rebel. But if Stark’s right… if there’s something inside me that they can still control…”

A/N: This was difficult to write man, I feel like i keep repeating myself. Anyways this short story is almost done, I'm thinking to make one for bucky in this same timeline, but i dunno.

Tags: @realifelamb @needsleep3000 @vicmc624 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @mrs-jjmaybank @strepsils123 @nesnejwritings @haruvalentine4321 @feelinthefic @niffala @fantasyfootballchampion @thefandomplace

SHIELD agents moved about the Helicarrier, carrying out their usual duties. The tension from your recent capture still lingered in the air, but for the moment, everything seemed normal.

Inside one of the briefing rooms, the Avengers gathered around a large, circular table. The holographic display in the center flickered to life. Steve stood at the far end, his expression remaining grim. He had been silent since his conversation with you, apart from when he told Fury about the new information about you.

Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, his one good eye sweeping over the assembled team. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention as the screen behind him shifted to show a detailed molecular structure—one that looked alien yet familiar.

“This,” Fury began, pointing to the hologram, “is the Lazarus Serum. It was an experimental project conducted by a rogue HYDRA scientist during World War II. What makes this serum different from the Super Soldier Serum is that it’s derived from an unknown foreign DNA, not of earth.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Tony’s brow furrowed in thought, while Natasha leaned forward, her eyes narrowing at the image on the screen.

“So an Alien DNA?” Natasha echoed, disbelief evident in her voice. “How did HYDRA even get their hands on something like that?”

Fury’s expression darkened. “During the war, HYDRA had their hands in more than just earthly affairs. There were rumors that they made contact with otherworldly entities, collecting samples and conducting experiments. Most of these were failures or too dangerous to continue, but the Lazarus Serum was different. It worked, but with a catch. It enhanced the subject’s strength, speed, and durability—just like the Super Soldier Serum—but the side effects were severe: mental instability, increased aggression. . .making them unhinged.”

“And Y/N?” Steve’s voice was low, but it carried a weight that made everyone turn toward him.

“She’s the only known survivor of the Lazarus project,” Fury confirmed. “And because the serum is derived from Alien DNA, its effects are permanent. Y/N is more than just enhanced—she’s on a whole other level. The serum doesn’t just slow aging; it effectively makes her immune to most forms of injury. We’ve seen that she can take bullets without flinching, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

Fury opened up a highly confidential video file named, ‘Lazarus Serum’ and instantly piqued the team's curiosity.

As the holographic footage played, the room fell into a tense silence. The screen displayed a black-and-white, grainy video of a sterile HYDRA laboratory, dimly lit and cold, with the camera focusing on you, strapped to a metal table. The tension among the Avengers was palpable as they watched, the atmosphere heavy with the gravity of what they were about to witness.

You lay on the table, your body weak and trembling. The serum coursing through your veins was taking its final toll, pushing you to the brink of death. Your skin was pale, your breaths shallow, and your heartbeat was erratic, the monitors showing your vitals dipping dangerously low.

Fury’s voice cut through the footage, steady but grim. “This is what our talented hackers are able to salvage, the final recorded moment of the Lazarus Serum experiment. Day 100.”

On the screen, the lead scientist stood over you, his expression hard as he observed the monitors. Despite the clear signs that you were dying, he was refusing to back down. The technician beside him looked increasingly anxious, glancing between the monitors and your convulsing body.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," the technician warned, his voice shaking. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The scientist’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, silencing any further protest.

The technician hesitated but ultimately complied, injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The screen showed your body convulsing violently on the table, the restraints biting into your skin as your body tried to fight the unbearable pain. The lines on the monitors went haywire, your heart rate spiking uncontrollably before it suddenly flatlined.

Steve couldn’t bear to watch any longer. The sight of you, broken and tortured. His heart clenched with a pain so intense it might as well be a heart attack. It was clear that every second of this footage was torture for him, he tried to keep watching but turned his head away, unable to watch life being drained from you. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over. He couldn’t bring himself to see the moment you died, the moment HYDRA took everything from you.

Fury paused the footage briefly, his gaze sweeping over the team. “At this point, HYDRA pronounced her dead. The lead scientist, as you can hear, said to ‘Dispose of the body.’ They believed the experiment was a failure, and that Y/N had died.”

The footage resumed, showing the scientist’s callous order to dispose of your body. The camera caught the technician’s expression—a mix of shock and fear—as he moved to unstrap your lifeless form from the table. The filming stops and the screens go black.

“We can only guess what happened next,” Fury’s voice echoed through the room. “This is why it’s called the Lazarus Serum. Like the Lazarus of myth, it brought her back to life. The woman you knew, Steve, died on that table. What came back was something else.”

“Excuse me.” Steve quietly excused himself from the room, his thoughts too heavy to focus on a strategy. He needed a moment alone, to process what he had just seen, and to prepare himself for the fight of his life.

Tony, who had been deep in thought, glanced up just in time to see Steve slipping out of the door. Something about the way Steve moved—so rigid, so controlled—set off alarm bells in Tony’s mind.

“Hey, Cap—” Tony called after him, but Steve didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn his head. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he watched Steve go. He knew that look, the one where Steve was bottling everything up inside, pretending he was fine when he was anything but.

× × × × 

Steve barely made it to his quarters before the dam broke. The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss, sealing him in the solitude he so desperately needed. For a moment, he stood there, his back against the door, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fought to maintain control.

But the weight of everything he had just seen and heard—the memories, the footage of your death, the knowledge that you had suffered because of him—crushed down on him with a force that made his knees buckle. He stumbled forward, his vision blurring with unshed tears.

With a choked sob, Steve lashed out, his fist slamming into the nearest object—his desk. The wood splintered under the force of the blow, but the pain in his knuckles barely registered. He hit it again, and again, each impact sending shockwaves up his arm, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

He threw a chair, shattered a picture frame, and ripped the curtains from the window, the fabric tearing with a violent snap. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through the crushing weight of his emotions.

The door to his room suddenly opened, and Tony Stark stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he took in the sight of Steve in the midst of his rampage. Steve didn’t notice him at first, too lost in his own agony to register anything beyond the need to destroy, to somehow externalize the pain that was tearing him apart from the inside.

“Steve!” Tony’s voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. But Steve didn’t stop. He grabbed the closest thing within reach—a lamp—and hurled it across the room, the glass shattering as it struck the wall.

“Steve!” Tony shouted again, moving quickly to grab Steve’s arm as he reached for another object. Steve yanked his arm away, his eyes wild and unfocused, his chest heaving as he glared at Tony.

“Get out!” Steve’s voice was raw, torn from the depths of his soul. But Tony didn’t back down. Instead, he reached out again, this time catching Steve’s wrist in a firm grip.

“Steve, stop!” Tony’s voice was filled with a mixture of urgency and compassion as he tightened his hold. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Steve struggled but held back in Tony’s grip, his knuckles already bleeding from the impacts against the wooden furniture. But Tony didn’t let go. He could see the pain in Steve’s eyes, the anguish that was tearing him apart, and he knew he couldn’t just leave him like this.

“Damn it, Rogers, look at me!” Tony’s voice cracked with emotion as he forced Steve to meet his gaze. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

For a moment, Steve’s rage faltered, his eyes locking with Tony’s. The room fell into silence, the only sound the ragged breathing of the two men standing in the midst of the wreckage. And then, as if the fight had been drained out of him, Steve collapsed to his knees, his body trembling with the force of his sobs.

“I did this,” Steve gasped, his voice choking with emotion. “All of this.”

Tony knelt beside him, his heart aching at the sight of his friend so completely broken. He pulled Steve into a tight embrace, holding him as Steve’s walls crumbled completely.

Steve fought against it at first, his body stiffening as if trying to hold onto the last shreds of his composure, but eventually, he couldn’t resist. He rested his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, his sobs coming harder and faster, his breath hitching in his throat.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Tony whispered, his own voice thick with emotion as he acted as Steve’s rock. 

“I failed,” Steve cried, his voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder. “I left her when she needed me the most. How can I ever make that right?”

“Damn it,” Tony mumbled, tightened his grip, his own throat constricting as he tried to hold back his own tears, “HYDRA did this, not you. There is always a way.”

× × × × 

Tony entered the cell, his expression devoid of the usual levity. He took a moment to observe you, noticing the way your eyes followed his every move, calculating, waiting.

"Back so soon, Stark?" You broke the silence, your voice a smooth mixture of mockery and disinterest. "Did you miss me?"

Tony didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, folding his hands in front of him. He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unflinching.

"I think you and I both know there's more to this Lazarus Serum than you're letting on," Tony began, his tone conversational but with an edge of steel beneath it. 

“I see Rogers didn't waste any time, after knowing about my serum,” you chuckled and raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "Is this the part where you try to psychoanalyze me? Try to figure out what makes me tick?"

"Oh, I don't need to figure out what makes you tick. I already know. You’re angry, bitter, and probably more than a little scared. Not that you’d ever admit it." Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, the first crack in your carefully maintained facade. "You don’t know anything about me."

"Don’t I?" Tony replied smoothly, his voice taking on a tone of calculated sympathy. "You were Steve’s girl, right? The one who got left behind, forgotten. You were just a kid when HYDRA took you, and they twisted you into something… else. You’re not angry because of what they did to you. You’re angry because the people who were supposed to care about you—people like Steve—didn’t save you."

Your hands clenched into fists at Tony’s words, the knuckles turning white. "You think you’re clever, now huh? You think you can come in here and play mind games with me?"

Tony leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "I’m not playing games. I just want to understand what’s going on here. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever as simple as it seems. You hate Steve, sure. You hate me, too, probably. But I’m betting there’s a part of you that hates HYDRA even more. So why don’t you tell me what they really did to you? What’s the catch with this Lazarus Serum? What are they not telling you?”

You held Tony's gaze, the flicker of something darker passing through your eyes. But you kept your expression as neutral as you could. "You think I’m just going to spill my secrets to you? You’re more naive than I thought."

Tony smirked, leaning back again, feigning a relaxed demeanor. "Oh, I don't expect you to spill everything. Not right away. But I’m pretty good at reading between the lines. And right now, you’re giving off a lot of signals, sweetheart."

The nickname was meant to annoy you, but you didn’t react, keeping your face impassive. Instead, you decided to toy with him a bit. "You really think you’re different from the rest of them, don’t you? Just because you’re a genius in a tin suit? HYDRA, SHIELD, you—they’re all the same. You all think you’re the smartest one in the room. But you’re all playing the same game. You’re all just cogs in the same machine."

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. "That’s a nice speech. But I’ve been in your shoes, remember? Taken apart, piece by piece, rebuilt by people who didn’t give a damn about what they were doing to me. So why don’t we cut the crap? What did HYDRA really do to you?"

You leaned forward, matching his intensity. "They made me better. Stronger. Faster. Everything your buddy Rogers has, and then some. But you already know that. What you really want to know is how to stop it."

Tony tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "So it’s true then? There’s no off-switch? No failsafe? You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you?"

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you almost let it slip. Almost. But you caught yourself, settling back in your chair with a cold smile. "Nice try. But you’re not as clever as you think you are."

Tony’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes hardened. "You’re right. I’m not trying to be clever. I’m trying to help you. You think you’re untouchable now, but the truth is, HYDRA doesn’t make anything without a leash. You’re telling me there’s no failsafe? No way to control you if you step out of line?"

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was all Tony needed. "See? That, right there. You hesitated. There’s something you’re not telling me. Something even you don’t know."

You clenched your jaw, the silence between you thickening. Tony was getting under your skin, and he knew it. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you’re free? You’re just as much a prisoner as you were when they first strapped you to that table. And deep down, you know it."

"You think you can manipulate me with your cheap psychology tricks? I’ve had experts try to break me, Stark. You’re not even in the same league."

Tony’s expression remained unfazed. "I don’t need to break you. I just need to understand. Because if you think for one second that I’m going to let HYDRA have their way with you—or with anyone else—you’re sorely mistaken."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Tony Stark was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. And he was right about one thing: HYDRA didn’t make anything without a failsafe. But what did that mean for you? Did you even want to know?

Tony watched the conflict play out on your face, and he decided to push just a little bit harder. "You can keep pretending that you’re in control, that you’re the one calling the shots. But at the end of the day, you’re just another one of HYDRA’s experiments. And when they’re done with you, they’ll toss you aside like garbage."

Your hands trembled slightly, the anger boiling just beneath the surface. "Shut up, Stark."

He leaned back, satisfied that he had struck a nerve. "We’ll talk again when you’re ready to stop lying to yourself. And trust me, you will."

As Tony stood up to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. The idea that HYDRA could still have control over you, that there was something they hadn’t told you—it gnawed at you. But you couldn’t let him see that. You couldn’t let him win.

Just before Tony reached the door, you spoke again, your voice cold and distant. "You think you know everything now. But it's only the tip of a needle."

Tony paused, turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. "Then enlighten me."

But you didn’t say another word. You simply stared at him, your eyes burning with a mixture of anger and fear. Tony shook his head slightly, a hint of disappointment in his expression before walking out and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, those thoughts weren’t comforting.

× × × × 

Your eyes snapped open. The blaring sound reverberated through the metal structure of the Helicarrier, signaling chaos above. A slow, cold smile spread across your lips, a glimmer of dark satisfaction in your eyes.

Leaning back against the wall, you tilted your head slightly, listening to the escalating panic beyond the cell door. The symphony of chaos was almost... delightful.

“Finally,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the din.

The lights flickered, the warning sirens growing louder and more insistent as SHIELD agents scrambled to their stations. The Avengers, who had been spread out across the ship, immediately converged in the command center, each of them on high alert.

"What now?" Tony muttered, his face twisting into a frown as he glanced at the flashing red lights. 

Fury's voice boomed over the intercom. "We've got hostiles onboard. This isn't a drill—The Winter Soldier and a squad of HYDRA operatives just breached the perimeter." 

Steve's heart plummeted. He had just started to gather himself after the emotional breakdown of learning about your past and his rage-fueled outburst. Now, hearing about Bucky’s presence, he felt a fresh surge of desperation. He had to stop him from reaching you.

As they ran through the Helicarrier's corridors, the sounds of battle grew louder. Gunfire echoed off the metal walls, and the smell of smoke and burning electronics filled the air.

The Helicarrier shook as explosions ripped through the structure, sending sparks and chunks of metal cascading through the corridors. 

Alarms blared, drowning out the shouts of SHIELD agents and the staccato of gunfire. The team raced through the chaos, dodging falling debris and returning fire at HYDRA agents who revealed themselves.

Natasha sprinted ahead, her movements fluid as she flipped over a barrage of bullets, landing gracefully before taking out two HYDRA agents with precise shots to their heads. She quickly ducked behind cover, reloading her pistols, eyes scanning for the next threat. Clint, perched in a higher vantage point, loosed arrows with deadly accuracy, each one finding its mark in the chest or throat of a HYDRA agent. 

“We’ve got to cut them off before they reach Y/N!” Steve shouted through the comms, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Tony took to the air, his repulsors humming as he blasted through a wall to create a shortcut. 

“On it!” he called out, targeting a group of HYDRA agents laying down suppressive fire from a balcony. His repulsors lit up the darkened corridor as he unleashed a barrage of energy beams, reducing the balcony—and the agents on it—to rubble.

Meanwhile, Steve charged forward, his shield a blur of motion as he deflected bullets and took down any HYDRA operatives in his path. He was relentless, driven by the singular focus of reaching you before it was too late. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion of battle, but from the gnawing fear of what would happen if Bucky succeeded.

Ahead of him, the Winter Soldier, was a force of nature. He moved with deadly precision, his metal arm crushing through walls and doors as if they were paper. With every obstacle he encountered, he either barreled through or dismantled it.

A squad of SHIELD agents attempted to block his path, but they were no match for his ruthlessness. Bucky dispatched them brutally, his expression unchanging as he advanced toward the detention level.

Steve caught sight of Bucky just as he took out the last of the SHIELD agents guarding the entrance to your cell. 

“Bucky, stop!” Steve shouted, his voice carrying through the smoke-filled corridor.

Bucky turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Steve. There was a flicker of recognition, but it was quickly buried beneath the cold, mechanical focus of the Winter Soldier. Without a word, Bucky charged at Steve, their collision echoing through the Helicarrier like a thunderclap. The force of their impact sent shockwaves through the surrounding walls, cracking the metal and sending a rain of sparks from the overhead lights.

The fight was immediate and brutal, each man fighting with a desperate intensity that went beyond the mission. Steve knew he had to stop Bucky, not just to protect you, but to save the man who had once been his best friend. But Bucky was relentless, his movements precise and deadly, every strike aimed to incapacitate or kill.

Steve blocked a powerful punch from Bucky’s metal arm with his shield, the impact reverberating up his arm and nearly knocking him off balance. He retaliated with a swift kick to Bucky’s midsection, but Bucky barely flinched, grabbing Steve by the arm and slamming him against the wall with enough force to dent the metal.

“You don’t have to do this!” Steve shouted, ducking under a wild swing from Bucky’s left fist. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

“Shut up!” Bucky growled, his voice low and dangerous as he swung his metal arm at Steve with murderous intent. “I don’t want to hear it!”

But Steve wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. “You’re Bucky! You joined the 107th Infantry, you fought in the war, you saved my life more times than I can count!”

“Shut up!” Bucky roared, slamming Steve into the wall again, the force of the impact cracking the metal. “Shut up!”

But Steve pressed on, his voice cracking with desperation. “You’re a brother to me, Bucky! We went through hell together! You’re not this—this weapon HYDRA made you into! You’re James Buchanan Barnes!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with something dark and twisted as he Bucky’s grip tightened around Steve’s throat, the rage in his eyes burning brighter with each word Steve spoke. “I told you to shut up!”

But Steve, despite the choking pressure on his windpipe, forced the words out. “You’re... Bucky... you’re... my brother...”

With a snarl, Bucky shoved Steve back, releasing his grip only to drive a brutal punch into Steve’s midsection. Steve doubled over, gasping for air, but even as he staggered, he refused to give up.

“Remember... who you are, who I am,” Steve rasped, clutching at his ribs as he straightened up. 

"I don't care to remember who you are but I do remember this. . .”

Steve’s heart surged with a flicker of hope, but it was quickly dashed as Bucky continued, his tone dripping with malice. “I remember the way she used to scream for me, the way she begged because someone couldn't satisfy her.”

Steve saw red.

Steve launched himself at Bucky, his fists flying with a ferocity he hadn’t unleashed in years. All the restraint, all the control he usually maintained, evaporated in the face of Bucky’s vile taunts. He swung his shield with all vicious force, slamming it into Bucky’s side and following up with a brutal uppercut that sent Bucky staggering back.

But Bucky recovered quickly, his expression cold and unyielding as he blocked Steve’s next punch with his metal arm. The force of their strikes echoed through the corridor, each blow landing with the weight of their shared history and the emotional wounds that had been ripped open.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Steve shouted, his voice hoarse with rage as he slammed his shield into Bucky’s midsection again. “This isn’t you! HYDRA did this to you! You’re not their puppet!”

But Bucky just sneered, his eyes filled with contempt as he caught Steve’s next punch and twisted his arm painfully. “She never begged you for more, did she? No matter how much you tried, she always needed me to finish what you couldn’t start.”

The taunt was the final straw. Steve’s vision blurred with a red haze as he let out a guttural scream, wrenching his arm free and slamming his shield into Bucky’s chest with enough force to crack the metal floor beneath them. He didn’t care about strategy or technique anymore—he just wanted to hurt Bucky, to make him pay for every word, every twisted memory HYDRA had implanted in his mind.

Steve pressed his advantage, driving Bucky back with a flurry of powerful strikes. He landed a solid punch to Bucky’s jaw, then followed it up with a brutal shield bash that sent Bucky staggering. For a moment, it seemed as though Steve might actually overpower him. Bucky’s defenses faltered, and Steve took full advantage, slamming him into the wall with a force that made the entire corridor shudder.

“You don’t get to talk about her!” Steve roared, his shield coming down like a hammer, striking Bucky again and again. The fury in his eyes was all-consuming, his movements fueled by a deep, protective rage.

Bucky grunted in pain, the relentless assault forcing him onto the defensive. He blocked a few of Steve’s strikes, but the sheer force behind each blow drove him back, his metal arm straining under the impact.

“You’re not taking her!” Steve shouted, driving his knee into Bucky’s midsection and following it with a devastating uppercut that sent Bucky crashing to the ground.

For a moment, Steve loomed over Bucky, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with anger. He had the upper hand, and Bucky looked up at him with something that might have been fear or perhaps something darker.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. As Steve moved in for the final blow, Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and with a sudden, vicious twist, he swept Steve’s legs out from under him. Steve hit the ground hard, his shield clattering to the side. Before he could recover, Bucky was on him, his metal arm clamping around Steve’s throat, squeezing with unyielding force.

Steve’s vision darkened as he struggled against Bucky’s grip, the initial surge of rage drained him, leaving him vulnerable. Bucky leaned in close, his expression cold and unforgiving, his grip tightening as if to finish him off.

But then, something shifted in Bucky’s eyes. His grip faltered, the anger in his expression wavering. He stared down at Steve, breathing heavily, and for a moment, he looked... lost. The hostility that had driven him was still there, but it was mingled with familiarity.

Steve, gasping for air, could see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes. “You...will put her in danger if you take her,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained but firm. “You’re more than what they made you.”

Bucky’s hand trembled, the pressure on Steve’s throat easing slightly. He didn’t know why, but the idea of finishing Steve off suddenly felt wrong. There was a nagging feeling deep inside him, something that pushed against the cold, mechanical orders HYDRA had drilled into him.

He released his grip on Steve’s throat entirely, stepping back as if unsure of what he had been about to do. He looked down at Steve, who lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt a pang of guilt.

“I... don’t care who you are,” Bucky muttered, his voice cracking with an emotion he couldn’t place. “But stay out of my way.”

Instead of delivering the final blow, Bucky turned and walked away, leaving Steve lying on the cold metal floor, bruised and battered but still conscious.

Bucky reached the detention level, his pace quickening as he neared the cell where you were held. The door loomed ahead and he entered the pin that he was given by one of the agents.

He stepped into the cell, his expression softening as he saw you. “Let's go,” he said, his voice filled with a protective tone that left no room for doubt. It didn’t matter who stood in his way—he would protect you at any cost, even if it meant defying the part of him that still hesitated, still questioned, still remembered.

× × × × 

In the hangar bay, Tony arrived just in time to see the transport vanish into the distance. He cursed under his breath, frustration and anger bubbling up inside him as he activated his comms.

“Fury, we’ve lost them. They’re gone,” Tony said, his voice laced with bitterness.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Fury responded. “Get Rogers and regroup. We’ll figure out our next move, but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Tony glanced back at the corridor where Steve was trying to get up with a grimace.

He made his way back to Steve, kneeling beside his fallen teammate. “Come on, Cap,” Tony muttered, “We’ve got work to do.”

Steve groaned as got up to his feet, head pounding from the beating he’d taken. The first thing he saw when he looked up was Tony’s face, his expression grim but not without a hint of concern.

“Y/N…?” Steve murmured, his voice weak as he tried to push himself up.

“They got her,” Tony replied, his tone flat. “Bucky took her, and they’re long gone by now.”

Steve’s heart sank, the weight of his failure crashing down on him like a ton of bricks adding to the pile. But Tony wasn’t about to let him wallow in self-pity.

“Save it for later, Cap,” Tony said, helping him to his feet. “Right now, we need to get back to the others. Fury’s not going to be happy about this, but we need to regroup and figure out our next move.”

Steve nodded numbly, still trying to process everything that had happened. The pain in his ribs and the bruises covering his body were nothing compared to the agony of knowing that he had failed again.

× × × ×

The dust began to settle, and the team regrouped, battered but unbowed. The realization of what had just happened—of how deeply HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD—hung over them like a dark cloud. The Helicarrier was in disarray, corridors filled with debris, smoke still curling from shattered panels, and the distant sound of alarms echoing through the vast structure. SHIELD agents, those who remained loyal, were helping the wounded and trying to restore some semblance of order. 

Steve Rogers leaned heavily against a wall, his injuries and the emotional toll pressing down on him like never before. 

Tony Stark, always one to keep moving even when his mind was in chaos, was pacing back and forth, his suit clanking with every step. He had been replaying the events of the past few hours in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word, every move, searching for something they had missed. As his thoughts churned, a memory suddenly clicked into place, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

“Dammit,” Tony muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief. The suddenness of his outburst caused the others to turn toward him, their expressions questioning.

“What is it?” Natasha asked, her tone sharp as she watched Tony with narrowed eyes. She was on edge, the adrenaline of the fight still pumping through her veins, and the last thing she needed was another surprise.

Tony turned to face the group, frustration evident as he pieced it together out loud. “Y/N knew. That cryptic crap she said during the interrogation—it wasn’t just her messing with us. She was trying to tell us something.”

Steve straightened at the mention of your name, his heart tightening as he remembered the cold, distant look in your eyes during the interrogation. 

“What are you talking about, Tony?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“She said something about how ‘keep your friends close. . . But your enemies closer,’ and that ‘you’d be shocked at how deep the rot goes.’ At the time, it sounded like she was just spewing nonsense to get under our skin. But now…it makes sense.”

“She was warning us,” Tony continued, his tone filled with a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration. “She was trying to tell us that HYDRA had already infiltrated SHIELD. She practically spelled it out for us, but we were too blind to see it. We were so focused on her as the enemy that we didn’t stop to think about what she was really saying.”

Natasha frowned, her mind racing as she recalled the conversation. ���Why didn’t she just come out and say it directly?” she questioned, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew the answer. 

“Because she couldn’t,” Clint interjected, “If she’d said it outright, they’d know. HYDRA would have seen it, and they’d have to shut her down before she could give us anything.”

Steve, who had been standing off to the side, consumed with thoughts of you, felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so focused on what you had become—so fixated on the idea of saving you—that he hadn’t seen what you were trying to tell them. You had been trying to help them, in your own way, and he had missed it.

“Y/N was trying to help us,” Steve murmured, his voice filled with a mix of realization and sorrow. “But we didn’t listen.”

Tony’s expression softened slightly, though his usual bravado was still present. “She was still playing her own game, Cap. Don’t romanticize it too much. But yeah, she threw us a bone. And we missed it.”

Natasha stepped closer, her gaze firm and unyielding. “So what do we do now? We can’t trust anyone. HYDRA could be anywhere—everywhere. We need a plan.”

Steve’s mind was spinning, this was the last thing they needed. The fight with Bucky, the realization that you had tried to warn them, the knowledge that HYDRA had already sunk its claws deep into SHIELD—it was hard to believe, but that was now the reality.

But he couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

“We need to figure out who we can trust, and take the fight to HYDRA. We’ll find Y/N and Bucky, and we’ll put an end to this.” Steve said firmly.

The others nodded. 

They had been blindsided, caught off guard by the depth of HYDRA’s infiltration. But they were the Avengers—they had faced impossible odds before, and they would do it again.

As the team moved to regroup and plan their next steps, Tony lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Steve. “Cap,” he said quietly, drawing Steve’s attention. “We’ll get them back. Both of them.”

× × × ×

The stolen Quinjet’s engines was the only sound between you and Bucky as the landscape blurred beneath. Outside, the world rushed by in a silent blur of greens and browns, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty.

You sat in the copilot’s seat, staring out of the window, mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Tony’s words echoed in your head, a gnawing doubt that you couldn’t shake. You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you? You remembered him saying, his voice laced with the same arrogance that always grated on your nerves. But this time, beneath the bravado, there was something else—truth.

Was there something HYDRA hadn’t told you? Some failsafe, hidden deep within you? The thought made you uneasy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You clenched your fists, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. You had always prided yourself on being in control, on being the one to pull the strings. But now… now you weren't so sure.

Beside you, Bucky was equally lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the controls, though his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s words from their brutal fight were like daggers in his mind, each one striking a different nerve. He had tried to shut them out, to focus on the mission, but they kept coming back, louder and louder. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

The memories were there, just out of reach, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit. Bucky’s grip on the controls tightened as he fought the urge to scream, to give in to the frustration that was building inside him. But he couldn’t.

“We’re still quite far,” You said quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath it that Bucky didn’t miss.

He nodded, glancing over at you. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice gruff.

You didn’t answer right away, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. When you finally spoke, your voice was low, almost as if you were speaking to yourself. “I don’t know anymore. About anything.”

Bucky didn’t press you. He understood that feeling all too well. For the longest time, his life had been nothing but a series of orders, a mission without end. Now, here he was, flying towards a past that he barely remembered, with a woman who was just as lost as he was.

“Stark is right, you know,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About HYDRA. About the control they still have over me. Stark… Stark said something that’s been eating away at me. He thinks there’s a failsafe. Something I don’t know about.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you turned back to the window. “I’ve got people waiting for us at my father’s old place. People who want to rebel. But if Stark’s right… if there’s something inside me that they can still control…”

“Then we deal with it,” Bucky said firmly, his voice cutting through your doubt. “We’ll find out what HYDRA did, and we’ll tear it out by the roots.”

You glanced over at Bucky, a serious expression settling over your face. “Now that my plan to sabotage Pierce succeeded, he has new enemies,” you said, your voice steady and sure. “What’s left of SHIELD… and us. I just know he's scrambling to get the upper hand.”

Bucky paused, taking in your words before he asked the question that had been nagging at him. “Why did you help them? The Avengers.”

Your gaze shifted back to the window, your expression hardening slightly. “I didn’t.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, confused. “What would you call it then?”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with the weight of what lay unspoken between you. Finally, you turned to face him, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “Taking down Pierce. That was my only goal. The Avengers were just… a means to an end.”

Bucky studied you, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. “So you used them?”

“Use them, manipulate them, call it what you want,” you replied, your tone firm but devoid of the venom that usually laced your words. “I needed them to believe they had the upper hand. It was the only way, very hypocritical. I know.”

Bucky nodded slowly, processing your words. He could see the logic in it, but there was something in your tone, in the way your eyes darkened when you spoke, that told him there was more to it than you were letting on.

“Do you regret it?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer immediately. Your gaze drifted back to the horizon, your expression unreadable. 

“Regret is a luxury I can’t afford, Bucky,” you said finally. “Pierce needs to fall, and I did what I had to do to make that happen, for your freedom.”

“And yours. . .?” he asked, his voice quiet but insistent. 

You stayed silent, your expression unchanged, but the slight tightening of your grip on the armrest didn’t escape Bucky’s notice. The question hung in the air, unanswered, and he realized that perhaps even you didn’t know the answer.

× × × × 

The next day.

The Quinjet landed softly in the clearing, its engines whirring down to a low hum as the dust settled around it. You stepped out first, scanning the familiar surroundings of your father’s old home. It was a place of memories, both comforting and haunting. The farmhouse had weathered time well, standing as a symbol of resilience, much like those who now sought refuge within its walls.

Bucky followed close behind, his eyes sweeping over the perimeter, ever vigilant. As they approached the entrance, one of your  trusted agents—Agent Lawson—emerged from the shadows, his face grim.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” Lawson said, his tone respectful but tinged with urgency. “We’ve got intel. You need to see this.”

Your exchanged a brief glance with Bucky before nodding to Lawson. “Inside,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease growing within you.

You entered the farmhouse, the interior dimly lit but secure. The agent led them to a small room that had been converted into a makeshift command center. Maps, monitors, and files were spread across a large table, each detailing various aspects of their ongoing struggle against HYDRA.

Lawson handed you a tablet, his expression serious. “Ma’am, the Avengers went public with the exposure of HYDRA. It’s all over the news now. HYDRA’s operations within SHIELD are out in the open, and they’re scrambling.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took the tablet, the screen lighting up with a news feed. On it, you could see footage of Captain America, Steve Rogers, speaking directly to the camera in a broadcast that had gone out worldwide. But as you listened to his words, you quickly realized there was something that felt intimately directed at you.

“If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them,” Steve’s voice echoed through the room, his tone calm but behind it, something deeper—something only you would recognize. “I know I’m asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high; it always has been.”

Steve’s voice softened just slightly, a subtle change that might go unnoticed by most, but not by you. “And it’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he continued, his words lingering, as if speaking directly to you, “I’m not afraid to fight for what matters… or who matters.”

Your heart clenched at the unmistakable message, meant for you and you alone. “If I’m the only one, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

The screen froze on Steve’s face, his expression resolute, but his eyes—those eyes that you knew so well— carried a message meant just for you.

“They’ve dealt HYDRA a major blow, but Pierce is still out there,” Lawson continued, oblivious to the personal significance of Steve’s words. “He’s regrouping, and he’s made it clear that he’s coming after you, ma’am.”

You stared at the frozen image of Steve for a moment longer, your emotions swirling, threatening to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself. But then, with a sharp inhale, you forced those emotions down, locking them away where they couldn’t distract you.

Your face hardened as you shoved the tablet back into Lawson’s hands, your voice clipped and cold. “What’s Pierce planning?”

Lawson, slightly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor, quickly handed you a folder. “We intercepted some communications from what’s left of HYDRA’s network. Pierce is regrouping, but he’s been severely compromised.”

You opened the folder, your eyes quickly scanning the contents. As you read, your expression darkened further. “What’s his next move?” you asked, your tone flat, all traces of emotion wiped clean.

Lawson hesitated, his eyes flickering to Bucky before he spoke. “He’s going after you, ma’am. Pierce knows he’s lost control of HYDRA’s influence within SHIELD, but he’s not done yet. He’s activated something—something called Project Lazarus.”

“That bastard Stark was right,” You laughed but your grip on the folder tightened.

“He’s desperate,” you said quietly, your eyes narrowing as you pieced it together. “If he can’t control me, he’ll try to eliminate me. He’s betting everything on this failsafe.”

Lawson nodded. “We believe he’s mobilizing the remnants of HYDRA to locate and retrieve whatever information or technology is needed to activate it. If he gets his hands on it, you’ll be his primary target.”

“We need to find out exactly what and where this failsafe is and how to disable it.” you closed the folder with a snap, your expression cold and resolute. “Lawson, I want every available resource focused on this. Find out everything you can about Project Lazarus—what it is, where it’s stored, how it works. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lawson said, his voice firm as he prepared to carry out your orders.

Bucky stepped closer, the bad feeling bothering his mind increasing intensity. “Y/N, this is a trap. Racing Pierce for this failsafe… it’s exactly what he wants. He’s counting on you going after it, to put yourself in danger.”

“I don’t have a choice, Bucky. If he gets to it first, it’s over. We need to find out exactly what this failsafe is and how to disable it.”

Bucky’s hand twitched, his instincts screaming at him that something was terribly wrong. 

“I don’t like this,” he admitted, his voice low and urgent. “There’s too much we don’t know. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. If you go after this, you’re walking right into his hands.”

“Not if we get to it first.” You lifted your hand and placed it over his cheek, “Trust me.”

Not even ten minutes passed by, Lawson returned, his expression urgent. “Ma’am, we’ve got the preliminary intel on Project Lazarus. It’s worse than we thought.”

Your eyes snapped to Lawson, all traces of emotion vanishing as you switched back into mission mode. “What did you find?”

Lawson handed you a small, encrypted drive. “It’s a self-destruct mechanism, embedded within the serum dna. If activated, it will kill the host instantly. Pierce’s plan is to get to the activation device before we can, and if he does...”

Y/N’s grip on the drive tightened, the weight of what Lawson was saying settling over her. “Then it’s game over,” you finished, your voice cold.

Bucky felt his chest tighten as he listened. “Y/N, this is exactly what I was talking about. You’re the one he’s targeting. He knows you’ll go after it, and he’s setting the trap.”

You looked down at the drive in your hand, the realization of what you were up against hitting you fully. But there was no hesitation in your voice when you spoke. “This is why we make sure he doesn’t get there first. We move fast, and we don’t give him the chance to spring his trap.”

“Lawson, get the team ready, we’re moving out in twenty.” You look back at Bucky, giving him a small reassuring smile before you get yourself prepared.

× × × ×

The war room at the Avengers Compound was buzzing with activity. Multiple holographic displays floated in midair, showing maps, satellite images, and streams of data that scrolled rapidly across the screens. The Avengers were gathered around the central table, their expressions tense and focused. Time was running out, and they all knew it.

Steve Rogers stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he surveyed the data being fed in by JARVIS. His eyes were sharp, determined, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in his posture. They had to find Pierce before it was too late.

“JARVIS, expand the search radius to include the most recent HYDRA activity,” Tony Stark ordered, his fingers flying over the controls on the table. A new map appeared, showing several locations highlighted in red.

“I have already cross-referenced known HYDRA safehouses and recent communications intercepts, sir,” JARVIS responded, his voice calm and efficient. “However, Mr. Pierce has been taking measures to cover his tracks. He is not using any of the usual channels.”

“We’re missing something,” Natasha Romanoff said, her voice thoughtful as she studied the data in front of her. “He wouldn’t just go dark. He’s got to be coordinating something big. There has to be a pattern.”

Bruce Banner leaned forward, adjusting his glasses as he examined a cluster of highlighted areas on the map. “What about his known associates? Anyone still in contact with him?”

“Most of them are either in custody or underground,” Natasha replied, shaking her head. “But there are a few we haven’t been able to track down. They could be his lifeline.”

Steve looked over at Sam Wilson, who was monitoring a live feed of communications traffic. “Sam, anything on your end?”

“Not much,” Sam said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But I did pick up a few encrypted messages that could be HYDRA-related. The problem is, they’re using a code we haven’t cracked yet.”

Tony’s fingers paused over the controls, and he turned to look at the team. “We don’t have time to play it safe. We need to flush him out. We hit those locations simultaneously and force him to react.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, nodding. “But we need to be smart about it. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Steve’s right,” Natasha added. “We go in, but we need to be prepared for anything.”

Just then, JARVIS’s voice cut through the tension. “I may have something, sir. I’ve detected a series of anomalous energy readings in an isolated area approximately fifty miles outside the city. The readings are consistent with the signature of a stealth HYDRA base.”

A holographic image zoomed in on the location, showing a heavily forested area with minimal infrastructure. The perfect place for someone like Pierce to lay low.

“That’s got to be him,” Clint Barton said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the terrain. “It’s secluded, hard to access, and easy to defend.”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Tony was already moving toward his suit, the familiar whirring of machinery filling the room as the armor began assembling around him. “JARVIS, prepare the Quinjet. We’re wheels up in five.”

The rest of the team sprang into action, suiting up and gathering their gear. The sense of urgency in the room was palpable—this was it. The moment they had been waiting for.

As they headed toward the hangar, Steve couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. They had the location, they had the team, but there was still an unknown element at play—something that Pierce was counting on. They had to be ready for whatever he had planned.

In the Quinjet, the team settled into their positions, the hum of the engines vibrating through the floor as they prepared for takeoff. Steve stood at the front, his hands gripping the back of the pilot’s seat as he stared out at the darkening sky.

“We go in fast and hard,��� he said, addressing the team. “We neutralize any resistance and secure Pierce. But keep your eyes open—this could be a trap.”

“Isn’t it always?” Natasha remarked, a hint of wry humor in her voice as she checked her weapons.

Tony turned to face the team, his visor down, but his voice clear through the comms. “Remember, Pierce knows how we operate. We need to stay one step ahead.”

The Quinjet lifted off smoothly, banking toward the coordinates JARVIS had provided. As they flew toward what they hoped would be the final confrontation with Pierce, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, preparing mentally for what was to come.

Steve’s mind, however, drifted to Y/N and Bucky. He knew they were out there too, likely chasing the same target. His grip tightened on the seat. He hoped they’d stay out of each other’s way, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t likely.

As the Quinjet sped through the night, Steve glanced around at his team, each one of them ready to face whatever lay ahead. This was the moment they’d been preparing for. There was no turning back now.

“Approaching the target location,” Sam announced from the cockpit, bringing Steve’s focus back to the mission. “We’re going in.”

Steve took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle to come. “Let’s finish this.”

The Quinjet descended toward the forest below, and the Avengers braced themselves for the confrontation that would determine the fate of their mission—and possibly much more.

The air inside the abandoned HYDRA facility was thick with tension. Dust and debris lined the cold metal floors, remnants of a once formidable operation. Now, it was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of electricity still pulsing through the aging wires. The Avengers moved cautiously, their steps echoing through the empty corridors.

Steve Rogers led the team, his shield at the ready, as they approached the central chamber. His instincts told him they were close—too close for comfort. The door to the chamber slid open with a hiss, revealing a large, dimly lit room. And there, at the center, stood Bucky and you.

The Avengers froze, surprise flickering across their faces as they took in the sight of the two figures. Bucky’s stance was tense, defensive, while you stood beside him, your gaze throwing daggers.

“Well, well, well,” Tony Stark’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with sarcasm. “Look who decided to crash the party. You two got lost on your way to a HYDRA reunion?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you eyed Tony. “Funny, Stark. I was going to say the same thing about you. Shouldn’t you be off with your lab toys or something? Or is this just another Tuesday for you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his suit whirring softly as he adjusted his stance. “Oh, you know me, always multitasking. But I gotta admit, seeing you two here is a bit of a plot twist. Care to explain what’s going on, or are we doing this the hard way?”

Bucky’s eyes darted between you and the Avengers, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He didn’t like how outnumbered you were, and he especially didn’t like the idea of a fight breaking out with Steve standing just a few feet away.

You kept your gaze locked on Tony, a hint of a smirk still playing on your lips. “Trust me, Stark, you don’t want to do this the hard way. We’re not here for you. But we’re also not here for a social call.”

Steve, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward, his shield raised slightly. “Y/N, Bucky, We’re here to take down Pierce. You’re either with us or against us.”

Your eyes flicked to Steve, your smirk fading as your expression hardened. “We’re here for the same reason, Rogers. But our priority isn’t taking down Pierce. It’s beating him first.”

Tony tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “And what, pray tell, what could be worse than letting that slimeball run free? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re cozying up to the wrong side.”

Before you could respond, a slow clap echoed through the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention to the shadows. From the darkness, Pierce emerged, a smirk plastered on his face as he surveyed the scene.

“Well, isn’t this touching?” Pierce drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “The Avengers, all united in their righteousness, and yet… here you are, just as powerless as ever.”

The Avengers immediately shifted their focus to Pierce, weapons ready, but the tension in the air remained palpable. Your body tensed, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto Pierce.

Steve took a step forward, his voice stern. “Pierce, it’s over. Surrender now, and maybe we can work something out.”

Pierce laughed, a cold, humorless sound that echoed through the chamber. “Oh, Steve. Always the optimist. But you’re wrong. It’s not over. In fact, it’s just beginning.”

He raised a small device in his hand, his thumb hovering over a button. “You all really thought you could stop me? After everything HYDRA has built? The world may see me as a traitor now, but I’m not the one who’s lost here. You are.” 

Pierce’s eyes shifted to you, his expression darkening with malicious glee. “And you, Y/N… the precious little weapon we created. Did you really think you could escape us? That you could fight back and win? You’re a tool, nothing more. And like any tool, when you’ve outlived your usefulness, you get discarded.”

Your jaw clenched, but you remained silent, your mind racing. You could see the cold resolve in Pierce’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that he was ready to press the button at any moment.

Pierce continued, enjoying every moment of his twisted power. “This—this is my failsafe. Our failsafe. HYDRA always plans for every eventuality, and you, Y/N, were no exception. One press of this button, and everything you are, everything we made you, ends.”

Steve’s heart sank as Pierce’s words sunk in. The realization hit him hard—Pierce wasn’t just threatening everyone, he was threatening your life. Panic flashed across Steve’s face, and he took another step forward, his voice urgent and desperate. “Pierce, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA promised you, it’s not worth it. Just… put the remote down, and we can figure this out.”

Pierce’s smirk widened, relishing the fear he saw in Steve’s eyes. “Oh, Captain. You think you can negotiate with me? That’s adorable. But you see, I’ve already won. You’re too late to stop me.”

Steve shook his head, his voice breaking as he pleaded, “You don’t have to end her like this. If it’s me you want, take me. Just don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want—just put the remote down.”

For a brief moment, Pierce seemed to consider Steve’s words, tilting his head as if weighing his options. Then, a cold, cruel smile twisted his lips. “You think I’d trade her life for yours? How noble of you, Captain. But no, this isn’t about you. This is about making sure she never defies us again. It’s about sending a message.”

Steve’s desperation turned to anger as he tried one last time. “Pierce, if you do this, there’s no coming back. You’ll lose everything. We’ll make sure of it. Just… don’t press that button. We can find another way—”

But Pierce’s thumb was already pressing down. 

To Steve, it felt like the world slowed to a crawl. The small, mechanical click of the button echoed in his ears like a gunshot, louder than anything he’d ever heard. His heart pounded, time moving painfully slow as the full reality of what was happening crushed down on him.

“No!” Steve’s voice ripped through the chamber, filled with anguish and fear. He lunged forward, but it was too late. The failsafe activated, and your body reacted instantly.

Your body jerked violently as if a surge of electricity had just shot through your veins. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening in shock and pain. You tried to reach out, to grab onto something, anything, to steady yourself but your strength drained from you like water through a sieve. You staggered, your legs buckling beneath you as you collapsed to the ground. Your vision blurred, but you fought for as long as you could, looking at Bucky who assisted you to collapse gently on the floor.

“No!” Steve’s voice was frantic, the raw pain in it reverberating through the room. He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling your convulsing form in his arms as if by holding you close, he could somehow stop the inevitable. “No, no, no, please, Y/N! Stay with me, stay with me!”

But you, through the haze of pain and the encroaching darkness, knew what you had to do. You turned your head slightly, focusing on Bucky. Your voice was weak, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Bucky… run. You have to… run. Don’t… look back.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in confusion, refusal written all over his face. “What? No, I’m not leaving you—”

“Go!” Your voice cracked with desperation as you struggled to maintain consciousness. “Go, Bucky! Now!”

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, torn between his instinct to fight and his need to protect you. But then Pierce’s smug smile caught his eye, and something inside him snapped. With a roar of pure rage, Bucky’s metal arm slammed into Pierce, sending him crashing to the ground.

The fight was brutal, savage. Bucky’s fury was unleashed in every punch, every strike. Pierce barely had time to react before Bucky was on him, his fists a blur of metal and flesh, pummeling the life out of him.

Pierce’s screams echoed through the chamber, but Bucky didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until Pierce was nothing but a lifeless, broken mess on the floor. Panting, his vision clouded with rage and grief, Bucky finally looked up, his eyes locking onto your still form, cradled in Steve’s arms. The sight tore at his soul, but your final command echoed in his mind.

Run.

Without another word, Bucky turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows before the Avengers could even think to stop him.

Steve didn’t notice Bucky’s departure. His entire world had narrowed to you—your lifeless body, the cold stillness of your form in his arms. He rocked back and forth slightly, his grip tightening as if he could hold onto your life, refusing to let it slip away. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his mind reeling with disbelief and sorrow.

The other Avengers stood around him, silent and stunned, the gravity of what had just happened sinking in. They had all faced countless dangers before, but this felt different. 

This felt final.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, a guttural cry of anguish that echoed through the chamber, filled with a depth of sorrow that none of them had ever heard from him before. 

“Y/N!” he cried out, his voice trembling, pleading with a world that seemed to have gone cold and unfeeling. “Please, don’t leave me. You can’t… no…no…please.”

He cradled you closer, his tears falling unchecked, soaking into your hair. Every fiber of his being screamed against what was happening. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. Not for her, not like this. The injustice of it tore at him, threatening to pull him apart.

But you didn’t respond. Your body remained still, your face peaceful, as if you had simply gone to sleep. The life that had burned so brightly within you was gone, extinguished by the cruel machinations of those who had sought to control you. He couldn’t stop the sob that tore from his throat, his anguish laid bare for all to see. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice breaking with every word. 

The chamber seemed to grow colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. Time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten, as they all stood in the aftermath of a battle that had been lost in the most devastating way possible.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally stepped forward, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “Steve…” he began, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say? There was no comfort, no way to undo what had been done.

Steve didn’t respond. His focus was entirely on you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He couldn’t comprehend a world without you in it. He didn’t want to.

Finally, after a long, painful silence, Natasha spoke, her voice soft but firm. “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

Steve nodded numbly, but he didn’t move. It took all of his strength to gather himself enough to even consider letting you go. He didn’t want to let you go. The idea of it was unbearable. But he knew Natasha was right. They couldn’t leave you here, not in this place, not like this.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Steve slowly stood, cradling you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing in the world—because to him, you were. He turned toward the exit, his steps heavy, each one feeling like it might be his last.

Steve couldn’t help but glance back one last time, as if hoping to see some sign that this wasn’t real—that you would wake up, that this nightmare would end. But there was nothing. Just the emptiness of a place that had taken so much from them.

They stepped out into the daylight, the sun glaringly bright against the backdrop of their sorrow. Steve’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart breaking all over again. 

“I love you,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. “I always will.”

But there was no answer, no sign of life. You were gone, and the world felt infinitely colder because of it.

So they left, carrying with him a loss that would never fully heal, a wound that would forever mark him. Steve walked with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimmed by the grief that had taken hold of him. 

[fatecantstopme]

The Wink

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky reveals how he really feels about you through a series of winks and an answer to a question you never wanted to ask.

Warnings: SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V). Aftercare. Small bits of fluff. Slight body issues (Bucky hates his scars). Feelings about being used for sex. Use of pet names.

"You're an idiot," you said with a laugh.

"Maybe, but this was entirely your idea."

You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes. "It was your idea, James."

He cocked his head to the side as if he was deciding if he agreed with you or not. He took another swig of his beer and shrugged. "It's possible that you're right." He held up a dart and shook it in front of you. "So you gonna take the bet or not?"

You grabbed the dart from his hand and grinned. "You're still an idiot." You threw the dart and it hit the board with expert precision. "Are you sure you wanna take the bet?" you teased.

Hr grinned and stepped forward, throwing his own dart at the board. It was an instant bullseye. "Oh doll, I'm gonna win this one." He winked as he teased you.

You groaned, knowing you were probably going to regret this later. You threw the dart again, aim pretty good, but certainly not a bullseye. "Shit."

Bucky threw his bullseye a second time. He turned to look at you, shooting you a wink as he grabbed his drink. "Your turn, doll."

"You can't win, Barnes."

"I'm pretty sure the game is mine, sweets."

You bit your lip and turned to face the board again. You knew that losing wasn't an option. You took a deep breath and threw your last dart, sinking it right in the bullseye. "Yes!!"

Bucky smiled and threw his last dart. "Ooo, bullseye number three, doll. Looks like I win." He winked at you again before setting his drink down and leaning closer to you. "So now you have to answer my question."

"What was your question again?" you asked in a light tone, trying to give yourself more time to formulate a better answer.

"If you could only save one person's life on the team, who would you choose?"

It was the question you never wanted to think about, let alone answer. If it came down to it, who would you pick? Whose life did you value more? Could you even pick between your teammates--your friends? Hell, every single one of them was more like family...how could you pick one family member to save?

The problem is, you knew your answer. You knew it from the moment Bucky had first asked the question 20 minutes prior. You'd refused to answer, thinking he would just let it go, but you should have known better. Instead, he made a wager...putting the answer to his question on a game darts. A game you had lost.

You could answer him honestly, but that terrified you beyond belief. You could lie to him instead, but that had its own risks. It was a rock and a hard place scenario and he knew he had you.

"I can't choose, Buck," you complained.

"It's hypothetical!"

"I know, but I love all of you. How could I possibly choose?"

"I chose," he said simply.

Your mind wandered back to a mission from three weeks before. The mission where Bucky had saved your life...

The room suddenly lit up, the muzzle of a gun flashing brightly as a bullet shot from it. The gun was pointed at you and you knew you were about to die. You could practically feel the end racing towards you at the speed of a bullet. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain, but it never came. Your eyes opened to a scene you'd never imagined seeing.

Bucky stood in front of you, his gun firing off a round as he dropped to his knees. His bullet hit his target, killing the Hydra agent instantly. When Bucky hit the ground, you hit it with him, coming to his front to assess the damage.

"Bucky!" your eyes scanned his body, panic settling into your chest. He was bleeding, but he looked alright.

"I'm fine, doll. It's just a shoulder wound."

"Why'd you do that? Why'd you jump in front of me?"

"Because you wouldn't have survived it. And I couldn't live with that," he said softly.

He wasn't wrong. That bullet would have killed you. While it only pierced his shoulder, it would have hit you directly in the head, killing you instantly.

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Anything for you, doll," he said with a wink.

Back in the present, you shook your head, clearing the memories from your mind. "That's not the same, Buck. I'd die for any one of you. That's much different than picking which one of you to save."

He shook his head. "You didn't see the whole thing. I didn't just save your life, I chose yours over Sam's."

You froze, trying to picture the moments before the gun went off, but the room had been so dark...you hadn't even seen Sam. "Sam's fine, though."

"Sam was fighting another Hydra agent when that one squared up with you. I saw him raise the gun at the same moment I saw Sam get pulled into a choke hold with a knife to his throat. I chose to save you."

You were silent, allowing his words to sink in. "I--I didn't know that. Sam never said anything."

"Sam got away moments later, so he never had a reason to bring it up."

"You just acted on instinct though."

"Perhaps, but I knew I would save you if it came down to it. I'd always choose you." He smiled and shot you another wink. It was the third one this evening alone and you were starting to wonder if they meant more than you'd originally thought.

Bucky was always winking at you. Sometimes jokingly, sometimes in a flirtatious manner, and sometimes even in a serious moment. They always made your heart flutter, but you didn't think they meant anything to him. Bucky was flirty, but he'd never made a move, so you assumed he wasn't interested.

"You still haven't answered my question, doll, and you do owe me an answer."

You took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. I'd pick you, alright?" you said with a huff.

He looked surprised, but unconvinced. "Why? Because I picked you?"

You groaned, deciding to lay your cards out on the table, come what may. "No you idiot. Your stupid face popped into my head the moment you asked me the question, okay? I knew I'd pick you."

"Then why didn't you answer it the first time?"

"Because!"

"That's not an answer."

"Ugh!" You sighed again. "I didn't say it because I didn't want to explain why it was you."

Bucky looked at you strangely. "You're not gonna make me ask, are you?"

"Damnit, James," you groaned. "I can't live without you, okay? There's no world worth being in if you're not in it."

You couldn't believe you'd just said that out loud, but here you were, heart laid bare, in the awkwardly quiet compound game room.

Bucky didn't say a word, but he wasn't speechless. He was simply contemplating his next move, weighing the consequences of his actions before he made them.

After a few more painfully silent moments, he grumbled "Fuck it," before crossing the short distance between you two and pressing his lips to yours in a frantic, yet passionate kiss.

You were surprised by the suddenness of his actions, but you melted into him without a second thought. The kiss was infinitely better than you had imagined, and you had done quite a lot of imagining.

When Bucky's lips left yours, you whined slightly, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you again.

"Sorry, doll. I've wanted to do that for ages."

"Well what you took you so long?" you asked.

He raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to. You never said anything either, you know. At least I dropped hints."

You rolled your eyes. "Can you please just kiss me again?"

He grinned and leaned back into you, mouth encompassing yours instantly. He loved the taste of your lips, the feeling of your tongue fighting against his, the way you gripped his arms like you were terrified he was going to disappear.

Bucky pulled away once more, the action almost painful. "Should we move this to my room? Anyone could see us here."

"Bit presumptuous of you, James," you teased.

He started to back peddle, a look of panic crossing his features. "Oh, I--uh--I didn't mean--"

You laughed. "I was teasing you, handsome. I'd love to move this elsewhere."

He relaxed, exhaling long and slow. "Thank god." He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you towards the elevator. "Come on."

"Buck, my legs are a lot shorter than yours, so can you slow down a little?" you asked as you jogged after him.

"Sorry, sweets." He turned towards you and scooped you up with ease before continuing to the elevator.

"What are you doing?"

"It's faster if I just carry you."

"Are we in a rush?"

He gave you an unreadable look. "Let's just say I've wanted you for so long that I actually might not be able to contain myself for much longer."

You smirked. "So you're gonna take me right here in this elevator?"

His eyes darkened. "Don't tempt me, baby, because I will."

You blushed. "I wouldn't say no..."

He looked like he was considering it for a moment before shaking his head to clear his dirty mind. "No, no. Our first time needs to be in a bed, where I can attend to your every need, not some dirty elevator."

You'd be lying if you said that the idea of him attending to your every need wasn't sexy as hell. The image of him on his knees for you sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core.

Bucky inhaled deeply and a low growl escaped his throat. "Fuck, you smell good."

You gasped, realizing he could actually smell your arousal...freaking super soldier senses.

The elevator door finally opened and Bucky practically ran towards his room. He pushed his door open and kicked it closed behind him before tossing you on the bed. He stepped away from you and took a few deep breaths.

"Bucky? You okay?" you asked in concern.

"I just need a minute, doll. Need to control myself."

"Why? I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be and you know it," he growled. "I could hurt you and I might if I lose control."

You crawled across the bed towards him, hand reaching out to him. "You're not going to hurt me, Buck. Just come here...please..."

His eyes met yours and you were taken aback by how dark they were. The normally bright blue irises were almost entirely hidden by his pupils, an almost feral look in them. It was an expression that might terrify a lesser woman, but you trusted Bucky with your life. That wasn't going to stop in the bedroom.

"Come here, baby," you whispered gently.

He let you take his arm and pull him towards the bed. He stopped when his legs touched the edge of the mattress. "I wanna be gentle with you, doll. Treat you right."

You cocked your head to the side as you took him in. "While I love that sentiment, Bucky, I don't need that. I need you and I'll take you in whatever form you come."

He groaned. "You're amazing."

You grinned. "Oh baby, you ain't seen nothing yet." You shot him a wink to emphasize your statement and he practically jumped on top of you, earning a squeal of delight from you.

He pinned you to the bed and started kissing you again as his hands began to undress you. His hands were fumbling with your shirt and he groaned in frustration before simply ripping it in two.

"Bucky!"

"I'm sorry, I'll buy you three to replace it," he mumbled, reattaching his lips to your skin.

He quickly rid you of your pants, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and a bralette that was arguably a little small for your chest.

Bucky sat back to take you in, eyes hungrily dancing across your body. He tapped the fabric between your breasts, "Is this expensive?"

You shook your head. "I have a couple more like it."

"Good," he said as he pulled a knife from his pants and slid it under the fabric, cutting the bralette in two. He cut the straps and tossed the ruined fabric onto the floor along with his blade.

You stared at him in a shocked silence, wetness seeping into your underwear. "That was hot as hell."

He grinned and inhaled deeply. "I can tell you liked it, pretty girl."

He grabbed your underwear and tugged them harshly down your legs. "Holy shit," he murmured, sliding a finger between your folds to collect your juices. "This all for me?"

"All for you, Bucky."

He licked his finger and groaned loudly. "Fuck, baby, you taste even better than I imagined."

He dropped to his stomach between your thighs, spreading your legs as wide as he could. He didn't bother to tease you, just dove right in, devouring you with a kind of hunger you'd never experienced.

You were a moaning mess in minutes, begging him not to stop, a plea he took to heart. When your orgasm hit, he worked you through it, never stopping to even take a breath.

You tugged on his hair and whimpered, but he kept going, needing to taste you for a little while longer. He wanted to feel you explode on his tongue again and again and again until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Bucky--I'm so close, please," you gasped.

He dug his fingers into your hips and kept your pussy tight to his face, not letting you squirm away.

Moments later you came with a cry of his name, waves of pleasure making your hips buck against his face. He worked you through it, only stopping when you begged him to give you a break.

He lifted his head, giving you a view of his slick covered beard. "I could eat that pretty pussy all day long, baby." He licked his lips. "Tastes so damn good."

You whimpered softly and reached for him, wanting to kiss him again. He wiped his face on his shirt before tugging it off over his head and lowering his body back down to yours. You held him close as you kissed him, fingers lightly tracing the scars on his left shoulder.

You felt his body stiffen under your hands and you pulled away to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he murmured.

"Hey," you said softly, grabbing his chin to force him to look at you. "Talk to me."

He sighed heavily. "I'm just not used to anyone touching my scars."

"Oh," you said in surprise, pulling your hand away from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Shit--no, that's not what I meant. Most women tend to avoid them. I know they're not pretty to look at."

"I think they're beautiful."

He looked at you as if you were insane.

"I'm serious, Bucky. Each one tells a unique story of your life. They're a part of you and that makes them beautiful to me."

His eyes softened and you could have sworn you saw the ghost of a tear slide down his cheek. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Oh hush. That's not for you to decide." You hooked your leg around his hips and flipped him over with surprising ease. "If we had more time, I'd kiss every single one of your scars until you believed me, but we don't."

His eyes widened. "Are we in a rush, baby?" he teased, echoing your earlier statement.

You grinned. "If I don't get your cock in me soon, I may never recover."

"We can't let that happen, so we better get to it."

He helped you remove his pants, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. His bulge was massive and your mouth was watering in anticipation. You gripped the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down slowly, allowing his cock to spring free.

You inhaled sharply as you took in the massive erection before you, a slight panic settling into your bones at the thought of having something that large inside of you.

As if he sensed your panic, Bucky chuckled lightly and said, "Don't worry, baby. It'll fit."

"I don't think so."

He grinned. "We'll make it fit."

You looked up at him with what you hoped was a neutral expression. Concern immediately clouded his face, so you knew you'd failed miserably.

"Hey doll, it's okay. I'll go nice and slow, alright? I'll be gentle."

You nodded and took a deep breath. You positioned yourself directly above his painfully erect cock and began to lower yourself down very slowly.

Bucky gripped your hips tightly, making sure to guide you as slowly as he could manage. You both moaned as he began to enter you, the stretch causing you to dig your nails into his chest.

"I've got you," he whispered.

You tried to lower yourself further, but Bucky's grip on your hips kept you from moving. He meant it when he said he wanted to be as gentle as possible.

"I can take it, Buck. Let me try," you murmured.

He looked at you and nodded slowly, not looking entirely convinced, but he loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to take control.

You took a deep breath, deciding to handle this like removing a band-aid--just get it over with. You sat down on top of him, sheathing his entire cock within your tight walls.

You cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, body stretched in ways it had never been stretched before.

Bucky groaned loudly, almost covering your cry. He looked at you with wide eyes, checking to see if you were okay.

Your body was acclimating to his size and you were becoming desperate the longer he remained still. "Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"What do you need, baby?"

"I need you to fuck me--please."

He gripped your hips again and started to move slowly, letting you match his pace.

"I'm not made of glass," you grumbled.

He looked up at you in surprise. "What?"

"You're not going to break me, Bucky. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk, understand?"

He nodded rapidly, eyes darkening once more. "Are you sure?"

"Fuck. Me. Now." you demanded.

He wasn't going to deny you such a request. He shifted his body, planted his feet on the bed, and began to piston up into you with speed and force.

"Fuck!" you gasped, the pleasure slamming into you like a freight train.

"You're so tight, doll. Feels so good wrapped around my cock."

Bucky was giving you exactly what you'd asked for and you loved it. The tip of his cock brushed your cervix with every thrust, the whisper of pain only adding to your enjoyment.

"Squeezing me so tight, baby. You gonna cum for me? Gonna make a mess on my cock?"

You whimpered and nodded rapidly, your third orgasm of the night creeping up on you. "Feels so good, Buck."

"I know, baby. It's like heaven--could stay here forever."

Your fingernails were digging crescent shapes into his chest as you clung to him, unable to do anything more than moan and gasp his name. "Please," you whimpered.

He knew exactly what you were asking for, so he didn't slow down or alter his movements. He continued to pound into you until you came with a cry of his name, pussy pulsating around his cock.

"Fuck!" he gasped. "Fuck--baby--shit, you've gotta stop that or I'm not gonna last."

"Can't help it," you mumbled. "Feels so good."

"I know pretty girl." He pulled you down to his chest and held on tightly as he flipped you onto your back, allowing him to get a better angle.

By this stage, your body was hyper-sensitive and you could feel every single movement he made.

His hips began to move again and his fingers caressed every part of you he could reach. He pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he fucked you. "Can you give me one more, sweets?"

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"You sure, doll? I think my pussy can do it." He changed his angle, giving him the ability to hit your g-spot with each thrust, as if to punctuate his sentence.

You moaned loudly and clenched tightly around him, eliciting a groan from his lips.

"I think she can give me one more, baby. My pussy--treating me so good--gonna make sure she feels good too."

You moaned again, nails clawing at his back as he fucked you.

"Yeah? You like that, huh?" he groaned into your ear. "Who's pussy is this, baby?"

"You--yours," you gasped out.

"That's right, doll. It's mine."

He knew you were getting close, so he slid his left hand down between your bodies, using his finger to gently massage your clit.

"Bucky!" you gasped.

"You gonna cum for me again, sweets?"

"So close," you whispered.

"I know, doll."

Three more thrusts and you were falling into an ocean of pleasure, wave after wave crashing into you. You were barely aware of Bucky chasing his own high, the crest of your pleasure blinding you to anything else.

Bucky came with a low groan of your name, spilling his seed deep within you. When he was spent, he collapsed on top of you, body shaking slightly from the intensity of his orgasm.

You laid like that for several minutes before Bucky finally shifted, rolling off of you and leaving you cold and empty. You reached for him almost instinctively, but he wasn't beside you.

You whimpered softly, looking around the room for him. He appeared from the bathroom holding a washcloth, a look of concern on his face.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I didn't know where you went," you whispered sheepishly.

He looked sad. "Just wanted to get a nice warm washcloth to clean you up with, doll."

"Oh."

He very gently began to clean you up, hands surprisingly soft. "I've got you, doll. I'm here."

You felt kind of foolish...you were simply used to be treated differently by men. You'd always been the girl they'd fuck and leave, none of them ever stayed long enough to even make sure you'd cum, let alone clean you up after. It was wrong of you to assume that Bucky was the same.

When he was done, he tossed the washcloth to the floor and crawled back into the bed, pulling you into his chest. "Wanna tell me what's wrong, sweets?"

"I'm--I'm just not used to aftercare, that's all. I...I thought you left."

"It's my room," he teased softly, laying a kiss on top of your head. "Besides, I'd much rather hold you after sex than lay in an empty bed."

You looked up at him, taking in his disheveled appearance and eyes so full of love it almost hurt to look at them. "Thank you, Bucky."

His brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For being you," you said simply, placing a soft kiss to the scar on his right shoulder, the one he got from saving your life.

"Anything for you, doll. Anything for you."