#james bucky buchanan barnes

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trouble

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky first meets you, he thinks you're nothing but trouble. Eventually, it becomes a nickname you answer to.

Disclaimer: fluff with steamy moments at the end, enemies-ish to lovers, hint of fake dating as Bucky is Reader's wedding date, Bucky gets a little jealous, sharing a hotel room, reader works for Shield, Sam and Maria are mentioned to be engaged, swearing. Not fully proof read.

“Hey, Trouble.” 

You gave a short sigh, but kept the smile on your face. “Morning, Buck.”

Bucky had been calling you ‘Trouble’ since the first day he met you. Granted, having first met you, he thought you were trouble. You’d been inside a building they were surveying and he mistook you for one of the gang members he and Sam had been watching for the last three months. You’d given them the slip that evening, only to turn up in their Monday morning meeting. 

Hill had hired you. 

“Hill, she’s nothing but trouble. We caught her-”

“I know you did.”

Sam looked at his fiance. “And you’re still gonna hire her?”

Maria nodded with her arms folded across her chest. In honesty, it was more like a shrug before she turned to you. You’d been far too relaxed in your seat since Bucky had walked inside. Just another indicator that you were trouble. And you were smiling. Smirking? 

Maybe a bit of both. 

“I was a Fed.”

“You’re a Fed?”

You shook your head. “Was. Was a Fed.”

Maria continued for you. “She graduated first in her class in everything. Field work and academics, alike. Y/n has been on our radar for a while.”

Because you were trouble.

Bucky felt Sam nudge him. “Subtitles, Buck. You might not be saying anything but we can see it on your face. I can see it on your face.” 

Bucky just scowled more. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Credentials like hers don’t come across my desk too often these days. I wanted to see if she was the real deal so I sent her to tail you two.”

Both men did a double take of Maria and yourself. “Us?!”

You laughed a little at their surprise. “Yes, you. You know, for two of the world's best Avengers you are both terrible at being secretive. In the space of three days I’ve managed to find out your routines.”

“Three-” Sam’s words spat from his mouth. “Three days?! You’ve had her following us for three days?”

Maria shrugged, again. “Told you training was coming soon. Gotta find a way to keep you both of your toes.”

It was then Sam’s turn to scowl. He understood why, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. Three days? He and Buck had been followed for three days by-by-by a, a what, a teeneger?

It was only when you replied, “I’m in my 20s.”, did Sam realise he’d said his question out loud. 

“You’re a fetus.” Bucky said before looking at you. Biologically, he might be in his 30s. But his birthday was over a hundred years ago. 

You just smiled at him. 

“Y/n’s gonna be joining your team.” 

“What?” Bucky asked, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned back to Maria. 

“Relax, Sergeant Barnes.” He looked back at you. “I’ll mostly be working alongside Captain Torres. As fun as field work can be, I’m a lot more useful to both of you behind a monitor. So, if you ever need anything hacking. Government secrets? Secret chambers? That dating profile Sam set up in your honour?” 

Nearly giving himself whiplash again, Bucky looked at Sam. And, as guiltless as he tried to look, he failed. He’d set him a dating profile up? When?!

“You just let me know,” you smiled.  “Am I free to go, Director?”

Maria nodded. “Bishop agreed to meet you outside your apartment to help you get settled in.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” Then you turned back to your new teammates. “See you boys on Wednesday.”

That had been almost three years ago. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Bucky to adopt your new nickname. Trouble. In the beginning, it had been because he thought that’s what you were; trouble. Bad news. But, after a while, you started to wear him down. 

It had taken a week for Sam to get used to you, and less than five minutes for Torres. He liked the way you kept “the grump” as you called him, on his toes. 

Eventually the nickname of Trouble moved away from hatred to a little more affectionate. It did take you entering field duty again without letting anyone know, saving both Bucky and Sam’s lives when they got cornered in a run down mansion out in the middle of nowhere. 

But never once had you forced a smile at the nickname. So, when you said “Morning, Buck.”, Bucky stopped in his tracks. He looked up from his clipboard, silently watching you for a moment. 

Even if your entire body wasn’t dripping with sweat as you continued to pummel the swinging punching bag in front of you, and even if your hair hadn’t been frizzing out from your rough ponytail as the back of your head; Bucky still would have known you were stressed. 

You never forced a smile around him. You’d been exasperated, tired, exhausted, angry, kind, loveable, happy, joyful, excited and every other emotion around him. But never once had you faked a smile around him. 

Around others? Sure. That was how he knew this one was fake. 

“Hold your horses.” Bucky said as he walked closer to you. 

You sighed, pulling your punches from the bag before finally standing still. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing-” You started, shaking your head. But he wasn’t biting. 

“No, not nothing. What’s going on? You’re glaring at the bag like it owes you six months rent. What’s going on?”

You sighed, completely exhausted. “Nothing, Buck. It’s fine. I swear.”

“Trouble?”

You looked at Bucky. 

For as long as you’d been alive, you’d been able to read people. Their inner thoughts, their deepest feelings. But nobody had ever been able to read you. 

Until Bucky. 

Sam tried his best, as did Torres. And, credit where credit is due, they did well. But that was only when you weren’t trying to hide it. A long day at work? A show ending the way you didn’t want it to? 

But days like this? 

You’d gone all week without letting people see. And you knew they couldn’t see. But Bucky? It was like he could see right into your soul. 

And it scared the crap outta you. 

“Bucky…” Your voice was soft, pleading for him not to dig. 

It took all of thirty seconds for him to look away from you, looking at the ceiling with a short sigh. “Alright, come on.”

Taking you by the shoulder, he stepped you away from the punching bag and hooked the clipboard under his arm before taking your wrapped hands into his. Then he started to unravel the bandages. He could already see the small bruises on your knuckles. 

“You’re gonna need to ice them.” 

He said nothing else as he unravelled your hands. Then, he took hold of one. He dropped the clipboard on the bench as he walked you both over to your gym bag before dropping your wraps into it. 

“Bucky-”

“Come with me.”

“Buck- Bucky.” You looked around you, confused as to why he was dragging you out of the gym. “James!”

He pulled you beside him before pressing a gentle hand on your lower back. 

“This feels like ‘The Quiet Man’. Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m getting you out of the compound.”

You almost started jogging beside him. “Okay, I get you’ve been trying to fire me since day one but you don’t actually have that authority.”

Well, at least you were still joking with him. Even if he had tried in the early stages, he hadn’t tried to get you fired in over two years. 

Eventually you stopped arguing, simply sighing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Whether he was gonna try and fire you, kidnap you or drag you to a church in Ireland to get married; it was better than staying in the compound, throwing punches hard enough to break the bag for a second time. 

Two hours later, Bucky’s motorbike was parked up in the dirt road behind you both as you sat beside each other, your legs hanging over the edge of the grassy hill. 

“Feeling better?” Bucky asked as you were half way through your food. 

You nodded, a lot calmer than you were back at the compound. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Then after a beat, he spoke up again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“I think the punching bag might disagree.”

Bucky watched as a smile flexed subtly on your face. But after a split second, it disappeared. Your shoulders, somehow, dropped lower and you shook your head. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

“I’m starting to regret showing you the movies you missed.” 

Bucky chuckled to himself quietly. Since you had become friends…kinda…you’d taken it upon yourself. Or rather, you and Joaquin, had taken it upon yourselves, with Sam’s help, to bring Bucky up to speed on everything he’d missed since being in the ice. 

It was on the nights when it was just you and him; maybe Sam was called away by his sister or his fiance, or Joaquin went to see his family. It was on those nights where you’d show Bucky the true classics. The ones he would have secretly loved if he’d gotten a chance to see them when they first got released. 

They were some of his favourite memories with you. 

Taking in a breath, you tried to work out in your head where the beginning was. 

“Work’s kinda taking its toll on me.” Finally admitting that outloud felt a lot easier than you’d thought it would. Bucky seemed to always have that effect on you. He made things easier. “I, uh, I’ve been asked to guest lecture at my old Training Academy and they keep trying to make me agree to a full time contract. The students apparently have learnt a lot and it makes their attendance records look better than they have done in years. Though, I’m pretty sure they only attended the lecture in the hopes that Joaquin would turn up again.”

Bucky just sat and listened to you as you looked out to the rest of the city. 

“I enjoy doing them, and I know the students like asking questions some of the teachers won’t answer directly. But between the missions, and the intel gathering. That’s taking me a lot longer than it used to, by the way and I hate it. I used to be able to crack open almost anything. But since tech development or whatever…criminals are a lot smarter than they used to be when it comes to their encryption.”

You took a few more breaths before continuing. 

“My family has been calling more and more recently, too. Don’t get me wrong. I-I love em’. But…” You let out a long breath. “It’s everyday. They’re asking for new information and I don’t have it. I’ve had a good day – that’s all I can say. I’m not dead. I spend my day going over lines and lines of data. What the fuck am I meant to say? And then I got an invite through my door last week inviting me to my cousin’s wedding and the phone calls from home have basically tripled. I’ve had to switch my answering machine off. They were filling it; have you got the invite yet? When are you gonna reply? You’re gonna be sitting next to your aunt from your dad’s side, you know I can’t stand that woman. Have you got your dress yet? Your dress is important, you need to look your best for the photos, Grandma will want ten copies, have you got a date yet? Do you need a date? Do you want me to ask your cousin if she has any single friends? Or maybe her fiance knows somebody? You can’t come to a wedding alone. Or maybe it’s best, that way we can help you find someone-”

Bucky laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, okay. Okay, breathe. Deep breaths.”

You took some more deep breaths. 

“It’s a never ending cycle, Buck. I-I go from one extreme to the other and…and I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I love my family, but right now I can’t think of anything worse than flying home and seeing them right now. And, as much as I love my work, I’d rather wait before I see another line of data.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a while. He just studied you. The way your shoulders fell, the way your true feelings and pure exhaustion took over your expression, the way your voice dropped from the hurried pace from earlier. 

“You’re burning yourself out.”

Now, you finally looked at him. 

“You need to take a break. Call Hill in the morning and tell her you’re taking two weeks. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” 

“But we’ve got-”

“The next mission won’t happen until next month. But you need a break. Y/n. And as for your family, what if I went with you?”

“What?”

“Take me as your date.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Bucky, you don’t-”

“What?” He leaned back, his expression teasing. “Too handsome?”

“It’s not that-”

“Too old?” Bucky gave a short gasp. “I gotta tell ya, that’s ageist.”

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Why not? You’re my friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

You smiled, softly. 

“Come on, what could go wrong?”

You nodded, slowly. “My family will meet you and never want to let you go, that’s what.”

Bucky just shrugged again. “Can’t help it. Mom’s love me.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And I’m telling you to take the offer.”

You remained silent as you kept your eyes on him. Bucky watched as you bit your bottom lip pensively, like you were running through every worse case scenario before getting to the good ones. 

“Come on,” he whispered. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Finally, you agreed. “Okay.”

For the next two weeks, you spent most of your time relaxing, completing the jobs in your apartment you’d ignored over time and dress shopping for the wedding that would be taking place in two months time. 

By the time you got back to work, things felt less like a tsunami being thrown over you and after the mission, a wedding with your family didn’t seem too terrible. 

“Do I have to wear a bow-tie?” Bucky called out from the hotel room as you remained in the bathroom, fixing your make-up. 

You’d left him twenty minutes ago to get dressed. 

“According to the invite, it’s compulsory.” 

You heard Bucky groan a little before swearing at what you gathered was either himself, the invite or the bow-tie. 

“Why couldn’t it be a normal tie?”

“Because my cousin loves the idea of Old Hollywood.”

“Technically, when I went into the ice it was just known as Hollywood. And we wore ties.”

You chuckled, putting your lipstick brush down before quickly blotting your lips twice. Throwing the tissue into the bin by the door, you walked out of the bathroom, around and around the corner and back into your shared hotel room. 

“Parts of culture have been lost to time sadly, so bow-ties it is,” you said as you came into view. “Come here. I’ll do it.”

Bucky had caught a glimpse of you in the mirror, but seeing the real you. Not the reflected version…that was something else entirely. The colour complimented you in a way he’d never seen before, and the way it hugged and draped on your body was making his mind think things that he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend and co-worker. 

You were stunningly gorgeous. 

As you stood in front of him, so close that if he leaned forward just a touch, he could press his lips to yours,  his senses becoming filled with you and his hands itched to touch you. To hold you by your waist or your hips, just to keep you standing so close to him. 

“There.” You leaned back a little before looking at him with that smile that, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, had made him weak at the knees since the first day he’d met you. 

With your hands braced on his shoulders, you turned him around to face the mirror. “You look handsome.”

It wasn’t a genuine compliment covered up by a joke. You weren’t teasing him. 

You were being genuinely honest. 

And you tried to ignore the way he looked at you and the feelings it gave you in your chest, but meeting his eyes in the mirror only seemed to make that feeling grow. 

You hadn’t missed the way Bucky had stopped as you entered the room and how it took him a moment before his body kicked back into gear in order to stand in front of you. But you tried to ignore what you were feeling at seeing him dressed the way he was. 

Often he was in henley t-shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his field uniform. So, seeing him all clean cut and in a tux was making you feel things. Since the henley’s were almost every day, you’d been able to, over the years, make yourself slightly immune to the feelings they gave you. 

But you’d never seen him in a tux. 

Even if you didn’t know he’d been in his 20s in the forties, seeing him dressed like this would have given you the feeling that he definitely had been in a past life. 

“We better go before we’re late.”

Bucky tried to find comprehensible words to say. The best he could come up with was, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t until the reception that he would finally be able to tell you how beautiful he found you. 

The wedding had been beautiful, every corner of the wedding venue being draped in silk. The dinner had gone off without a hitch. You and Bucky were seated together and despite the judgy comments from your aunt, Bucky held your hand throughout the entire thing, answering each question your aunt threw at him. 

And by the time people were invited onto the dance floor after the bride and groom, your aunt, happy with your choice of a date, nudged him to ask you to do as much. 

All he did was hold out his hand and looking from him, to the dance floor and back again, you took his hand. 

“I, uh, I don’t-” 

Bucky said nothing. With a light smirk on his face, he did what he’d wanted to do all night. Well, one of the things. 

Stepping into you, his hand firmly on your waist, he gently threw one of your hands to his shoulder before holding your other one firmly in his. 

“Okay.” Bucky heard you say quietly. 

His light smirk formed a small smile. “I might not know how to tie a bow-tie, but I do know how to dance.”

You nodded. “That. Is. Clear.”

You felt a little awkward, trying to keep your head away from the thoughts it was spilling into. 

Bucky chuckled and you felt his gravelly breath by the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, doll. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

You did, eventually, manage to relax a little as the song bled on. And, just as it started to feel easy and natural to be held by him in this way, his words sent both your head and your heart into a spin. 

“You’re gorgeous, by the way.” You leaned your head back a little to look at him. Was he fucking with you? “Stunning.”

You were thankful the lights were dimmer than they had been at dinner. It gave you at least a little cover for the heat that overtook your cheeks. 

“Thank you.”

Nothing else was said after that. You couldn’t keep looking at him, in fear that if you looked at him for too long, he’d be able to see right through you. 

So, with your temple resting against his, you let him lead you in a slow dance along with the rest of the couples. 

A little ways through the dance, you felt Bucky’s hand on your waist dip a little lower and onto your hip before moving to your back where you could feel his fingers softly trailing up and down your back against your dress. 

You felt yourself shiver at his touch. 

Bucky smirked a little by the shell of your ear. “Cold?”

When you spoke, your voice felt a little strangled to your ears. “No.”

You heard a small hum from his chest before he pulled you closer, or maybe you stepped closer to him, and his fingers softly continued to trail up and down. 

A few songs later, both you and Bucky sitting at a new table that your mother had dragged you to, you were asked to dance with someone your uncle had dragged over to meet you. And throughout your entire dance with the new guy, you just wished you were back in Bucky’s arms. 

However, as you danced, you failed to notice the way he was looking at you. But your cousin hadn’t. When Bucky’s eyes fell on you, he had a mixed look in them. Complete adoration and love, and that he could eat you alive. But when his eyes fell on the guy you were slightly awkwardly dancing with, a darker look took over. 

Jealousy. 

You’d told her that you’d be bringing a date, and from what your family had told her, your date was just a friend. But having watched both of you dance, and the way Bucky was looking at you…you certainly were not ‘just’ friends. 

And even if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. 

Then Bucky stood, carefully making his way over to you. And the look in your eyes when you spotted him making his way over…

Your cousin was certain the next wedding she would be attending would be yours.

“Mind me cutting in?”

The guy shook his head and stepped back, saying quiet words of kindness to you. But once you found yourself in Bucky’s arms, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thank you.”

“You looked like you had a stone in your shoes, trying to dance with him.”

“That’s kinda what it felt like. Glad to know I’ve got acting skills to fall back on if I ever want to quit. Or if you get me fired.”

“I’ll only get you fired if you start causing trouble, Trouble.”

A light smile appeared on your lips for a few seconds before you disappeared into his shoulder to hide your face from him. 

Two more dances and a conversation split between three different groups later, you were ready to go home. You said goodbye to your cousin, both you and Bucky complimenting her and the wedding before taking your leave. 

By the time you got back to the hotel, taking your heels off in the lobby, thankful to feel the cold marble floor beneath your feet, the clock was starting to reach midnight. 

Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the elevator. And where you both could have stood opposite each other, without thinking, he pulled you into his side. Both of you stood in the centre of the elevator, Bucky leaned over and pressed the button to your floor. 

In the silence, Bucky watching the numbers climb higher and higher, you took time to look at him. The shape of him, his jawline. He’d taken his jacket off and given it to you on the walk inside to the hotel. The bow-tie was now loose and around his neck. 

“You’re staring.”

For the first time that night, you didn’t look away from him. 

“Can’t help it.”

Bucky looked back at you just before the doors to the elevator rang open. There was a soft smirk resting on his lips. 

“Come on, Trouble.”

Leading you out of the elevator, you pulled the hotel room key from your purse before sliding it into the door. With a beep, the latch unlocked itself and you pushed the handle down and Bucky helped you push the door open. 

The entire room was quiet. The moonlight floated behind the soft curtains, lighting up a few spaces on the carpet. The room remained quiet as you and Bucky walked around before he opened up the two dividing doors that led to his bedroom. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the muscles in his back tense as he opened the two doors and walked inside. And, despite wishing to stay and watch the show of Bucky getting undressed, you moved towards your bathroom. Zipping down the side panel zip, you let the gown fall to the floor before you pulled the clean pajamas you’d left on the counter over your head and up your legs. 

Despite the hour, you and Bucky stayed up a little longer to talk. He was back in a henley shirt and some long plaid pajama bottoms. 

The same ones you’d bought him when you’d been his Secret Santa two years ago. 

Your make-up had long been washed away and you and Bucky spent at least forty minutes gossiping about what the third cousin on your mom’s side had been wearing in replace of a hat. 

Then you had to say your goodnights. 

Only, as he closed the dividing door behind him, you felt like something was missing. You wanted him to stay. You wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted him…you wanted him to touch you the same way he had done on the dance floor, his voice gravelly by your ear, sending goosebumps across your body in a way nobody had ever done before. 

Little did you know, Bucky wanted the same. 

He could hear your footsteps on the carpet behind the door. The soft light from the lamp in your room shone under the door and he could see your shadow walking back and forth. Each time you walked back to the door, so did he. Only to then see it walk away, so he did the same. 

For the fifth time, you walked back towards Bucky’s door. Except, before you could walk back across the rest of your room, the door opened. 

And there he was. In the glow of moonlight from his own room, barely six feet from you. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, just letting the silent conversation pass between you. 

“I don’t want tonight to end.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, or reword them. But you didn’t need to. If anyone understood you, it was Bucky. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but barely a second later, Bucky’s hands were pushing through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips crashed against yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him closer before fisting his t-shirt. 

A moan vibrated from his chest as you pulled him closer, letting his kiss deepen. His finger ran through the lengths of your hair, gently pulling. 

As his steps carried him forward, yours carried you back until eventually he spun you, lifting you into his arms. Feeling your back secure against the wall, his hands supporting you, your body rocked against his hips as he leaned forward, driving your own further into the wall. 

You moaned a little as his tongue slipped past your lips and his fingers squeezed at your flesh. 

By the time you both woke up in the morning, breakfast had long been over, the sheets would be a completely tangled mess. And yourself and Bucky would be in a similar position; limbs tangled with one another's, heartbeats steady enough it could be mistaken for one, and the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down your spine. 

[writingunderneathawillow]

dozed off (bucky barnes x reader)

content warnings: none, just good old fluff, unless you count sweetest bucky as a warning (i do), gender neutral reader word count: 815

You quietly fumbled with the door of your and Bucky’s joint apartment, your purse and phone clutched in one hand and keys in your other.

When you slowly pushed the door open, excitement flooded your veins as you took in the soft glow of the lamp on the side table next to the couch.

Bucky wasn’t supposed to be home yet; he had texted you earlier that day that he was not going to be back before tomorrow morning. But there he was, his large frame spread out on the couch, chest rising and falling in steady motions.

His eyes were closed, lashes just brushing up against his cheeks as gentle sighs tumbled from his lips.

He looked heartbreakingly endearing, one arm slung out, hovering above the floor as if sleep had taken him while he was reaching for something. You took a few steps towards him, moving as silently as possible in order not to wake him.

Usually, his super soldier hearing would have picked up even the faintest sounds, but exhaustion had knocked him out completely, pulling him into his dreamlands without disturbances.

As you made your way towards him, you couldn’t help but break into a bright smile. Adoration that bordered on worship filled your system as you kneeled down in front of his sleeping figure and gazed at his face. Your eyes traced the contours of his jaw, the point of his nose and wandered to his soft pink lips, which parted slightly as he breathed in. Instinctively, you reached out but stopped yourself just before your fingers could brush up against his cheek. Reluctantly, you pulled back and extended your hand towards the blanket on the back of the couch, draping it over him to keep the cold away.

You wanted to join him on the sofa, burying yourself against his body that you knew like the back of your hand, every dip, every muscle and every scar. Sleeping alone in your shared bed was out of the question, not when he was so close. But the idea of interrupting his slumber, as much as you wanted to see the beautiful blue of his eyes – it would feel like a crime to rip him away from his rest.

So instead, you cozied up on the floor, right beneath him, pulling a blanket and pillow from the armchair to ease yourself onto the ground. The sound of his soft breath was stronger than any sleeping pills, seemingly cradling you and filling your ears like the sweetest melody. Your eyelids grew heavier with every second of his breathing and soon, your own dreams welcomed you.

When Bucky woke up the next morning, he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he looked around. The couch had been unkind to his neck, which twinged a little with every movement. He was disoriented, surprised to say the least, to have woken up on the couch.

When he had sat down the evening prior, it had been his intention to stay awake, to wait up until your return home. But not ten minutes after his head had hit the pillow, fatigue had caused him to drift off hours before you had arrived.

As his gaze wandered, it stopped on you.

Crumbled next to the couch, blanket pulled up to your chin and fast asleep, you laid there, a content smile plastered across your face despite the fact that your position couldn’t possibly be comfortable.

His heart fluttered as he reached out to you, warmth spreading through his chest.

“Sweetheart?” He asked softly, dragging his knuckles across your cheek.

You stirred lightly, a tiny yawn breaching your lips as you looked at him through heavy lidded eyes.

“Hi,” you greeted him, smiling brighter as your eyes adjusted and you finally got to see his half amused, half concerned face.

“What are you doing on the floor?” His voice was gentle, love seemingly intertwining with his vocal cords.

You chuckled and sat up, scooting closer to him.

With your arms propped up on the cushions of the couch, you rested your chin on your hands and beamed up at him.

“I didn’t wanna sleep without you,” you explained, and his heart might have burst.

“You coulda woken me,” he said and extended his hand to brush a few loose strands of hair from your forehead.

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t have possibly done that.”

A sheepish grin snuck onto his face as he pulled you up to him, letting your body melt against his as he wrapped his arms around you.

“What could I have ever done to deserve you?” His question was a whisper, a soft inquiry that tugged at your heartstrings.

You kissed his cheek tenderly, feeling the scruff of his beard beneath your lips.

“I wanted to wait up for you,” he continued and looked at you, “But I must’ve dozed off.”

[worksxofxmyxmind]

👍🏾

Shield High School Faculty and Staff

Mr. Nicholas Fury, Principal

Science

Dr.Bruce Banner Mr. Anthony Stark

Biology/ Chemistry Physics

Wrestling Forensics

Social Studies

Mr. Sam Wilson (Dept. Chair)

Government/Economics

Track

Mr. James Barnes Mr. Steven Rogers

World History US History

AP European History Baseball

Chess club

Math

Mr. Peter Parker

Calculus

Golf

English Literature

Mr. Loren Olson

British and World Literature

Fencing

World Language

Ms. Natasha Romanoff

Russian

Gymnastics

Electives

Mr. Eric Masterson

PE and Driver’s Education

Football

[starch1ldz]

"Sambucky is obviously superior to stucky" insert loud incorrect buzzer WRONG!! THEY'RE INCOMPARABLE! you wouldn't compare a banana to a potato, would you? You literally cannot look at these two ships and say one is better than the other because they have two completely different dynamics. Sambucky doesn't erase stucky, it doesn't replace stucky. They are two inherently different ship with a different version of Bucky. In my (not) humble opinion, the ships are both great independently without trying to compare them to each other, they're different people with different dynamics and that's okay! You don't have to compare them, you don't have to hate one because you love the other. Y'all on here REALLY need to GET OVER YOURSELVES.

[honeyed-pines]

made matching winterhawk icons for my wife and I

[materia-girl88]

Kiss and Make Up

18+, minors dni

Graphic smut ahead

the aftermath of a fight between you and Bucky ;)

i'm thinking of doing a few final fantasy and red dead redemption 2 one shots as well :) lmk what you think!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The bed was cold.

You rolled over onto your side, thick comforter pulled up to your chin as you curled up. The clock read 1:18am and you sighed. There was a small picture frame by the clock with a photo of you and Bucky from when you first moved in, smiling at each other with his arms around your waist as your palms rested on his chest.

Neither of you remembered what the argument was really about.

Bucky had come home earlier that evening after a meeting with Sam and Joaquin about a mission they had been gathering intel on and he was stressed.

You had tried to get him to talk about it but he had refused, snapping a "Just drop it" at you.

One thing led to another and one shouting match later, he was in the living room sleeping on the couch while you were alone in your king sized bed, eyes wide open, just wishing he was there to keep you warm.

Another 15 minutes passed before you couldn't take it anymore and you stood, blanket wrapped around you shoulders, and padded your way from the bedroom out to the living room where you could see Bucky laying on the couch staring up at the ceiling.

"Bucky," you called softly, slowly making your way to him.

His head turned, eyes becoming soft and a bit sorrowful at the sight of you. He let out a breath before he opened his arms to you with a quit "Come here, angel."

Your lip quivered a bit as you made your way to him, leaning down to lay on top of him with your legs tangling and your chin propping onto his chest.

"I couldn't sleep. I don't like laying in there without you," you told him, fingers clutching into his t-shirt as you shifted.

All you wore was one of his black t-shirts with a pair of dark blue panties, and you felt his warmth seep through to you as you both gazed in each other's eyes.

He let out a sigh, one arm coming to rest on the dip of your spine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin while the other came up to brush your hair back from your eyes.

"I don't like it either. I'm sorry for snapping at you, baby. It was a tough day and I took it out on you instead of speaking to you," he said, voice soft.

You leaned your head to rest in his palm, giving him a soft smile.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too for not respecting that you weren't ready to talk. I shouldn't have pushed it," you told him.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft peck once, twice, a third time.

On the third kiss, your lips stayed locked and you could taste the minty freshness of his toothpaste.

You sat up a bit to reach him better, sliding your legs to straddle his boxer covered hips while his hands slid to your waist.

A shudder ran through you at the coldness of his metal hand, the movement causing you to shift a bit on top of him.

Bucky's tongue slowly ran across your bottom lip and you quickly granted him access with a whimper as your tongues tangled together.

It was instinct that led you to slowly begin rolling your hips against his and he let out a grunt, hips jolting as he began to harden.

You pulled away for a moment to look at him with a small smile, "Take me to our bed, Bucky."

He didn't hesitate in giving you a grin with a "Yes, ma'am" before throwing the blanket covering you both to the floor as he stood with your arms and legs locked around him.

He made his way down the hall like a man on a mission. Once in your room, he threw you on the bed causing you to land with a squeal and a bounce, laughing as he pulled his t-shirt over his head from behind.

You went to do the same but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Leave it, doll," he said a bit breathlessly as his eyes roamed over you. "I wanna fuck you in my shirt. Just push it up enough to show me those pretty tits"

You flushed but obeyed, laying back and pushing the shirt up to above your breasts as you gazed up at him.

Bucky loved your body, especially your breasts, and never wasted any time in worshipping them.

Now, for example, he was slowly making his way up the bed towards you like a predator after his prey.

His hands came to rest on your knees where they were bent and he spread them apart, opening your thighs to him as he continued to make his way upwards.

Soon he was eye level with your chest and he didn't waste a moment before leaning in to suck a pert nipple into his mouth, his blue eyes locked onto you.

"Oh.." you gasped, thighs clenching around his hips as one of your hands came to fist in his hair. He knew how sensitive your nipples were and he never passed up a chance to get you squirming.

He gave you a sneaky grin around it before nipping at it with his teeth.

The jolt of pleasure it brought ran from your reddened nipple down to the apex of your thighs and your clit throbbed.

He continued the torture until your breasts were red and sensitive with a large love bite on your sternum between them.

You were slowly working your hips, trying to grind with his as much as possible. Your panties were soaking wet and all you wanted was for him to touch you.

"Bucky," you whined, and reached to grab where his hand was resting on your thigh,"Please."

You guided the hand upward to the damp fabric and saw as his eyes darkened at the feeling.

His hand moved to cup you fully and he ground his palm against you, your jaw dropping open.

"You're such a good fuckin girl" He growled, hand speeding up with the grinding until you couldn't take it.

You were on the edge, shaking like a crazy until Bucky suddenly paused.

Your breaths were heavy as you came down, giving him a frustrated look as your ruined orgasm.

He laughed before saying "Patience," and sat up, hands coming to the waistband of your panties.

With a jerk of his metal hand and a squeak from you, the fabric ripped away and all you could see was a flash of blue as he threw them over his shoulder.

You were ready to berate him but you were stopped when he dived in, lips wrapping around your clit to give a harsh suck as a finger came to your entrance to tease.

"Ohmygod," you whimpered, head leaning back as you arched you spine.

Bucky was good at most things he did whether it be fighting, training or really anything else.

But he was a god at eating pussy.

He feasted on you like you were a glass of water and he was a parched man in the desert.

His finger toyed at the rim of your entrance before sinking in, immediately on the search for that one spot within you that got you every time.

You let out a yelp when he found it, rubbing against it with his finger tip causing you to quiver.

"Please, please, please, baby," you begged, tears in your eyes as he continued his torture.

You could feel the orgasm building again and this time he let you have it, his head bobbing as he sucked at your hard clit.

A yell left you as you came and you clamped down on his finger that was still thrusting into you.

You were still shaking with the aftershocks of it when he gave you one last lick and pulled away.

He grinned down at you, his hair in his eyes and his lips and chin wet.

His hand came from between your thighs to show you the wetness that covered it and he used the other one to work his boxers down, kicking them to the side.

He grasped his hard cock with his wet hand, using your cum to lubricate himself and holy fuck was it hot.

"Bucky, c'mon," you whined as he scrambled into place, his dick coming to rest between the lips of your pussy.

"What is it, doll?" he asked teasingly as he began to grind the head of his dick against you, letting it slide against your oversensitive clit. Your hips jolted with every brush, "What do you need?"

You continued to squirm underneath him and glared up at him.

"I need you to fuck me." you said firmly, causing him to laugh at your neediness.

"Your wish is my command," he said before notching himself at your entrance.

You both let out a breath of relief as he slid inside, bare skin to bare skin.

As his hips began to move your hands came under his arms to rest on his back and he let out a groan as your nails dug into the skin on his back, raking red lines down the length of it.

"You feel so fuckin good. I could live in you forever," Bucky ground our, one hand holding himself up while the other grasped at the headboard.

You were letting out soft gasps with each thrust he gave you and you knew your hips would be sore from taking the impact of how hard he was taking you, but you loved it. You loved when you would bruise and he would spend time after trailing kisses over the skin.

His pelvis was slapping your clit with each thrust and before long you felt the heat rise in you again, your body beginning to quiver as your orgasm rose.

"Bucky, I'm close baby, please," you told him with a strained voice, grabbing for his hand that was holding the headboard and bringing it between you, "Please touch me."

Now that the headboard was no longer being held you could heard the wood of it smacking the wall and you only hoped that his super soldier strength wouldn't cause it to damage the walls again.

It's happened before.

He brought his fingers to your lips for you to suck on before trailing them down to your hard bud, rubbing circles into it roughly and causing you to cry out.

Your pussy tightened around him as your orgasm overtook you, your spine arching and your nails digging into his shoulders.

He let out a groan at the feeling of you tightening around him, his balls drawing up, and before long he too released.

You hummed in contentedness as you felt him spurt within you, warmth filling you.

He slid out once he was soft, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips before moving to lay beside you.

You moved to lay on his chest, his arms around you as you traced at the lines of his abs.

"I hate fighting with you, angel. But if this is the result, we may have to more often," he joked, causing you to laugh.

Before long, the both of you were asleep in each other's arms, legs entwined once more where you belonged.

[briefkittenearthquake]

40s bucky headcanons (lwky kinda suggestive)

40s!bucky who begs for you too send spicy polaroids with your mail when he’s away

40s!bucky who obviously sends ones of him back

40s!bucky who in his time in london got ridiculed for being so protective of his letters

40s!bucky who the second steve snatched one away from him and ripped it he yelled

40s!bucky who carefully went through photo surgery with tape

40s!bucky whose mail got lost and opened and then reported

40s!bucky who got called into his base commander’s office for outer personal misconduct

40s!bucky who could care less

I DONT ALLOW MY WORK TO BE TRANSLATED REPOSTED OR PLAGIARIZED WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION

[moniquesha]

issues

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You wait for your new therapist, and you also meet Bucky.

a/n: i can't move on from bucky in tfaws, plus this is just so short and cute and very realistic. then maybe i'll continue exfil tonight if i'm up for it.

You sit in the waiting room, hands folded in your lap, trying not to think about how many therapists you’ve been through already. Four, to be exact. None of them worked. But according to your research, the one you’re waiting for now is the best.. At least by reputation. The internet spoke of her impressive roster of clients: super soldiers, unnamed heroes, people who lived through impossible things. You didn’t care about that. Well, maybe a little. If she helped them, maybe she could help you too.

You arrived early. Two hours early, to be exact. The receptionist barely looked up from her screen before instructing you to sit and wait. So you did. And you’ve been waiting ever since. An hour has passed. Boredom claws at you, but the thought of leaving your perfect spot, of somehow being skipped after the hell of booking this session, keeps you locked in place.

Then, the couch shifts.

A presence. Subtle, but heavy. You don’t look at first, too lost in your own head, but eventually, curiosity wins out. A glance to the side, and Bucky.

Yes, that Bucky.

He looks just as out of place as you feel. Maybe more. In his metal hand, he holds a small bouquet of flowers, fingers idly gripping the stems. You don’t pry. You could, but that would require speaking, and you’re not entirely sure you remember how to do that properly. Others would ask for a picture. Maybe even an autograph. You would too, if you had even a shred of confidence in your system.

But damn.

You live in a world with wizards, aliens, reality-warping stones, and tech so advanced it defies logic. And here you are, stuck in your own head, unable to even figure yourself out.

Embarrassing.

Surprisingly he's the one to speak first.

“You here for Doc too?”

It takes a second for your brain to register that, yes, Bucky Barnes just spoke to you.

“Sorry, what?”

He huffs out a small breath, like he expected that response, like he’s used to people not keeping up with him right away. His fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers for a second before he nods toward the office door.

“Doc Christina,” he repeats. “You waiting for her too?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” You shift in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how stiff you’ve been sitting this whole time. “Took forever to get an appointment.”

Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. She’s got a long waitlist.” He pauses, then adds, “Worth it, though.”

That means something, coming from him. You don’t know his whole story, but you know enough. Enough to understand that if anyone needs therapy, it’s him. Silence stretches between you for a beat. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but it’s not easy either.

“Those flowers for her?”

He glances down at the flowers like he just remembered he was holding them. His fingers flex around the stems before he shrugs.

“Nah,” he says. “For someone else.”

You nod, not pushing for more. If he wanted to elaborate, he would. But something about the way his jaw tenses tells you that whoever they’re for, they mean something. Maybe too much.

Silence settles again, but this time, it’s different. Less awkward, more… understanding. Two people waiting for the same therapist, carrying baggage too heavy to unpack in casual conversation.

Bucky shifts in his seat, then glances at you. “She’s good, you know,” he says, almost like an afterthought. “Doc. She doesn’t fix you, but she helps.”

You swallow down something complicated. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” Then, a small smirk. “But she’s brutal.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “But.. She’ll help right? Because my healthcare can’t take another beating right now.” you laugh awkwardly, mentally cursing yourself for even speaking too much.

Bucky actually huffs out a quiet laugh. Just a breath, really, but it’s something. He tilts his head slightly, considering you for a moment before nodding.

“She’ll help,” he says, like it’s a promise. “But you might leave every session feeling like you went ten rounds with a heavyweight.”

You grimace, sinking further into your seat. “Great. Love that.”

He smirks, but there’s something softer in his expression now. Maybe he sees a little too much of himself in you. Maybe he just knows what it’s like to sit in this exact spot, dreading whatever comes next. For a moment, you forget who he is. Forget the history, the stories, the headlines. He’s just another person waiting for help. Just like you.

“What are you here for?”

You freeze for a second, caught off guard by the question.

It’s not like you don’t know the answer. You do. It’s just.. saying it out loud feels different. Feels real. You glance at him, expecting impatience or regret for even asking, but he just looks at you. Calm, waiting. Like he actually wants to know.

You exhale, shifting in your seat. “I, uh..” You hesitate, then force a small, awkward laugh. “Honestly? I don’t even know how to sum it up.”

Bucky nods, like he gets it. Maybe he does.

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I guess I just feel.. stuck. Like my brain keeps running in circles, and no matter what I do, I can’t get out of my own way.” You glance at him, suddenly self-conscious. “That probably sounds dumb.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Hey, it doesn’t.” He leans back against the couch, staring ahead. “Sounds about right.”

You sit in silence for a moment before you finally ask, “What about you?”

His jaw tenses slightly, his grip on the flowers tightening again. For a second, you think he won’t answer.

Then, quietly, he says, “Trying to make peace with a past that won’t let me go.”

It’s simple. Honest. Heavy.

You don’t push, and he doesn’t say anything more.

But somehow, just sitting there waiting, together, feels like a small step forward.

You exhale, staring ahead. “Well, I hope for a better us. In the future. If that's possible.”

There's silence after that, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It just lingers, settling between you both like a shared thought neither of you knows how to put into words.

Bucky shifts slightly, then leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It will,” he says eventually. “Just takes time.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “Time’s kind of a pain in the ass, though.”

That earns a smirk from him. “Yeah. That, it is.”

The receptionist calls a name. Not yours, not his. The waiting continues, but at least now, you’re not doing it alone.

Bucky lets out a quiet scoff, watching as someone disappears into the therapist’s office. “Finally, the line is moving.”

You nod, stretching your legs out slightly. “Guess that means we’re one step closer to getting our brains picked apart.”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Yeah. Brace yourself.”

You chuckle, but there’s a nervous edge to it. The thought of actually stepping into that office, of unpacking everything you’ve been carrying, feels heavier now. But at the very least, you’re not the only one feeling it.

After some time, the receptionist finally calls your name.

You exhale sharply, nodding as you stand. Before heading to the office, you turn to Bucky and give him a small smile.

“Hope your girl likes those flowers. They’re beautiful.”

There’s a brief pause, and then because your brain refuses to let you leave without making it worse. You awkwardly add, “Or boy… if you’re into that. Yeah, I’m going.”

Bucky blinks, clearly caught off guard. Then, to your absolute surprise, he actually chuckles, showing his charming smile.

You nod to yourself, as if that somehow saves you from the awkwardness, and turn away. But just as you reach for the doorknob, you hear him say, “They’re for a friend.”

You glance back, and he’s still smirking, shaking his head slightly like he can’t believe you just said that. But there’s something softer in his expression, something almost appreciative.

“Good luck in there,” he adds.

You huff out a breath, gripping the doorknob. “Yeah. You too.”

And with that, you step inside, ready. Sort of.. To face whatever comes next.

a/n: see! cute!

divider from: omi-resources

[skj-weebmam]

My roomie started screaming, cause I started screaming, cause I saw this shit:

Newly released, bitch I can’t sit still, how the hell am I going to sleep now!?

[marvel-yap-blr-the-cult]

Cast:

Chris Hemsworth

Vanessa Kirby

Anthony Mackie

Sebastian Stan

Letitia Wright

Paul Rudd

Wyatt Russell

Tenoch Huerta Mejia

Ebon Moss Bachrach

Simu Liu

Danny Ramirez

Joseph Quinn

David Harbour

Winston Duke

Florence Pugh

Kelsey Grammer

Lewis Pullman

Hannah John-Kamen

Tom Hiddleston

Patrick Stewart

Ian McKellen

Alan Cumming

Rebecca Romijn

James Marsden

Channing Tatum

Pedro Pascal

[Last but bot the least] Robert Downey Jr.

[daydreamgoddess14]

this was so cute! 😍

tight spaces (bucky barnes x fem!reader)

Content warnings: fluff, a pinch of angst, bucky gets anxious because of tight spaces, suggestive, bucky gets a boner hehehe, lowkey manhandling I guess, also accidentally inspired by teen wolf Wordcount: 930

The door of the supply room fell shut, sending you tumbling towards Bucky.

You had meant to keep it open, your foot propped against it while Bucky searched for the gun cleaning supplies. But it had rested heavily on you, leaving you straining and telling Bucky to get a move on.

Supply room was a generous term. It was basically a small closet made out of metal, barely big enough to accommodate one person, definitely not two.

You were pressed against Bucky’s chest after your stumble, feeling his hands at your waist to stabilise you.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you tried to get yourself in a more upright position.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled and let go of your sides. The warmth of his skin, that had seeped through your shirt, was gone so quickly, it felt as if the room’s temperature had dropped.

You went to reach for the door, stemming your weight against it as you pressed down on the door handle, but it didn’t move an inch.

At the same time, you were equally aware of Bucky’s gaze on you and the proximity of his lap and your ass. You tried pushing yourself more at the door, but it didn’t give in and didn’t allow for any more space between the two of you, either.

“Buck? We have a problem,” you said and twisted as much as possible to look at him. “The door won’t open.”

His eyebrows knitted together as his gaze flicked between you and the door.

“Can’t be, you just gotta try again,” he instructed and nodded encouragingly.

You sighed and repeatedly tried to force the door open, but it didn’t budge.

“I think it’s shut,” You replied, teeth gritted as you pushed again.

“Let me,” he said and tried to move past you. It didn’t seem intentional to you but the way he grabbed your shoulders, gently attempting to force himself towards the door by moving you out of the way, made your stomach flutter.

However, he wasn’t successful, stuck between you and the door with no way of positioning himself closer the exit.

He sighed and apologised as he simply reached over you, accidentally pushing you into his chest while his large hands fumbled with the door.

In the dim lighting you could still make it out the way his biceps flexed under his shirt and with the way you were sandwiched between him and the door, you could take in his scent effortlessly, practically drowning you in leather and a hint of citrus.

You tried to hold your breath, embarrassed by how lightheaded you became as his smell encircled you.

With a soft groan Bucky took a tiny step back, as much as the room allowed.

“God, we’re really stuck,” he murmured, and all your giddiness disappeared as you picked up on the trace of anxiety on his words.

Bucky and closed spaces did not go well together, especially ones made out of metal. Being entombed in a cold, tight room was sending shivers down his spine, and he was barely able to conceal them. You heard how his breath quickened and saw his eyes darting in between the walls of the room, searching for a way out.

“It’s okay,” you whispered; your hands rested on his forearms and you began to softly stroke up and downwards. “The others are gonna realise soon that we’re in here, we’re okay.”

His eyes met yours, the blue nearly hidden with his enlarged pupils. He nodded slowly, his gaze fixated on you as you continued your soothing motions.

“We’re okay,” he repeated as he watched you, almost entranced by your voice. After a few seconds his eyes began to wander again but instead of taking in his surroundings, they lingered on you.

The soft curve of your mouth, the gradual slope of your nose and the gentleness of your eyes captivated him, pulling him out of his state of panic.

“You have a scar there,” he mumbled, nodding towards your eyebrow. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

The words had stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Only when he shifted slightly, he seemed to realise where you were. How you were glued to him, skin on skin with no room between the two of you.

All the blood that had pounded in his ears and head just seconds ago now rushed south.

You became aware of your situation again as well and desperately tried to find a place in the supply room that wasn’t taken up by him.

“Doll, you gotta-,” he groaned softly as he tried to adjust himself and get a little distance between both of you.

“You gotta turn around or something ‘cause, uh-“ he searched for words that wouldn’t make it so awkward but none came.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, confused by this, and tried to twist your body to face towards the door but then you felt it.

Warmth radiated from his lap along with an unmistakable hard sensation, straining against his pants right against you.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying even harder to increase the proximity between the two of you.

He muttered something unintelligible and then said: “No, don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry, sweetheart.”

A soft hiss escaped his mouth when you finally had managed to turn around, now facing the door with warmed cheeks.

A few seconds passed, your backside now pressed into him, until he broke the silence.

“Doll?” “Yeah?” “This is worse.”

You chuckled, pressing your hand against your lips and you could hear his faint laughter.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Megalomaniac ( concept )

Civil War B. Barnes x reader ( gender is not explicitly stated )

Megalomaniac - A person who is obsessed with their own power.

Steve Rogers originally sent you to James as a therapist and a way to help him regain his memories. Little does he know that his good friend is using you as a way to keep himself calm and withdraw from his violent, obsessive thoughts.

Warngings/tags: smut/suggestive content. Dark content, dead dove, knifes mentioned, dubious concent, little drabble I wrote because I got sad again and was listening to too much Tool. Just a concept of a much bigger fic i had planned out. Not beta read. Do not come here for a happy read.

Mdni! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet.

[ My marvel request box is open. Please see my pinned post for my request rules. ]

James Barnes would do anything for a singular once of control. A sense that he's not just a robot being manipulated. A sense of confidence. A sense of self worth. A sense that he's not weak.

But he knows he's not weak. He's far from weak. He's powerful. He's strong. He's worthy. If he wanted to, he could take down an entire army with his bare fucking hands. If he wanted to, he could set fire to the entire world.

Because James Barnes had control. He had power. And that was something he had confirmed whenever he had you. Weak. Pathetic. Helpless. Like a caged animal right under his palm. His metal, brutal palm. His metal, violent arm that he killed people with.

Why in the wide world would Steve Rogers send you to him was a mystery. But you and James an spoken, and you spoke the words clearly and honestly together, that you would never tell a single soul what went on inside that beat down apartment he lived in.

Nothing but the information you were able to get from him, the information the avengers needed. That was excluding the information you were hiding.

And when you had studied him, you would remember cases you had studied in college when you were working on your doctorate for Psychology. Cases of children in bad households. Cases of people who were kidnapped and tortured for months or even years.

James Barnes suffered not only from a major Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Clinical Depression, but he also had been struggling with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. These would cause him to go through many different mental phases when you were with him. Phases that would span from spontaneous bursts of energy, to continuous sobbing, to anger that would cause him to get violent.

" It was usually just with his words. Never with his actions. "

And now you realized why James had shoved that lie down your throat the first time he had an outburst. Because he could get violent, and he was scared of getting violent--mortified, even. But that night, James was not the man he had been working hard to be.

His way of stress relief and the way he tried to keep himself tame? Having sex with you.

Of course, he never wanted to hurt you. You were a friend of Steve Rogers. And Steve Rogers was his friend. He wasn't going to hurt you. He didn't have the courage to.

But he had the courage to strip you of your confidence. Of your clothes until you were bare and embarrassed. Of your skin until you were completely unraveled in his arms.

Because he had the power to do so. Because James Barnes had control.

" You shouldn't have come here. "

It was already raining outside. It was too cold, and inside the building it was even colder. But maybe for a second when he was above you, things felt warm. Just at the wrong time.

" I know. "

You were shaking, nervous and even fearful under his touch. Under his knife. Under the disgusting feeling of him filling you. It was so disgusting, so utterly gut wrenching, but it felt sinfully good. It felt like home.

The words he spoke to you was full of venom and spite, but it made you feel warm and welcomed. The slaps, the manhandling and the constant degrading words were full of hatred and self-loathing, but did not make you want him any less. Even with the sadistic ways in which he tried to fulfill his need for dominance.

The blindfold around your face reminded you that he could do anything to you and you would never suspect it. The little cuts on your thighs proved that he had done the unexpected to you. All because he was finally gaining control of something, and James Barnes would do anything for a singular ounce of control.

[sohailigoes]

bucky gets to live for another marvel movie‼️🗣🔥

(marvel let this man go trauma free for one movie PLEASE 🙏😭)

[soelstress]

Those Words

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: Bucky knows what to expects when he hears them. But what if just once they were used for something else?

Warnings: angst , some violence , character death

Word count: 2.1k

Square filled for @avengers-assemble-bingo “Bucky Barnes Birthday bingo event": Square 3 'Trigger Words’

Card - 4B011

A/N - Hello lovelies! My third entry for the above bingo event. Please don’t hate me for the angst, I promise a light hearted piece for my last entry!

The pic is sourced from Google

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

“What the hell is this?”

“Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn. No. I mean… your real home.”

Bucky froze when he recognised that book. The book red as blood with a thick black star dark as his nightmares embossed on the cover

“Longing”

“No.” Bucky shook his head in despair and closed his eyes as the sound of screaming began to echo within his mind.

“Rusted.”

Tremors rocked his body when realised it was one person screaming. “Stop.”

“Seventeen.”

“Stop.” Bucky gritted his teeth trying to fight the pain that ripped through him, not only from the memory of the torture that Hydra subjected him to but also from the whirring and activity of his metal limb which had been dormant for 18 months.

“Daybreak.”

A scream of agony tore from Bucky’s soul as he ripped free of the restraints within the pod and began punching the door in an attempt to escape both the horror of his present situation and the memory of the screams ringing in his head and the last time he heard those words.

************************************************

When the door of your apartment squeaked open followed by the creak of worn flooring you breathed a sigh of relief. Until that moment you hadn’t realised how worried you were. Filled with dread that he might be seen or captured and unable to return to you or even let you know what had happened to him. But he was here now.

You watched as James walked into your bedroom and sat on your bed leaving some space. As his fingers twitched with nerves you waited with what looked like patience but internally you were dying to know what happened.

After what seemed like an eternity he took a small breath. “Bucky.” You blinked in confusion. That was not how you expected him to start but waited for him to elaborate. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But he called me Bucky.”

“He?”

“Captain America. Steve. My best friend.”

When you caught a glance of his blank face you realised he was reciting the information emotionlessly. Cautiously you probed him. “You remember that?”

There was a pause before he shook his head. “I read it. The exhibit at the Smithsonian.” He broke off and resumed his fidgeting.

There was a swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach. This was it. His opportunity to find his friend who would hopefully be able to help restore his memories and determine his future. You shouldn’t be surprised as you had encouraged him to go to the museum and see if it would help him remember. “What now?”

He sighed heavily. “That man who fought all those years ago alongside his best friend… I’m not him. He’s gone. He was experimented on and changed into something different. And I don’t want to be what they made me. I want to be someone else.” When his flesh hand tipped your chin up you saw him looking at you with a timid smile. “These past few months I’ve started to learn about who I am now. I’d like to learn more about who I am… with you.” As he spoke a softness entered his eyes, so different to the caution you first saw months prior. The day after SHIELD had fallen both literally and metaphorically.

Debris from their headquarters along with the three helicarriers had rained down upon the city causing destruction and damage which had led to your short shift as a student nurse at a hospital in DC turning into overnight volunteering as you helped wherever possible. Once the worst injuries had been treated and a semblance of calm returned to the building you were told to go home. You were exhausted but decided to walk the few blocks home rather than get a cab hoping to clear your mind of the chaos you’d faced. As the sight of the main door entered your eye line you’d been too distracted to focus on your surroundings and notice the three men following you. They had yanked you into an alley before shoving you against a wall and demanded your purse and phone. One held a blade and had sliced your cheek when you failed to move or respond from exhaustion and your head hitting the wall. The other two held you against the wall with one hand covering your mouth to muffle any noises. A noise of pain had barely formed when they were yanked away from you. As you slid down the wall surrendering to exhaustion and pain all you saw were a pair of blue eyes that you hoped would relieve you of your pain.

The next thing you remembered was waking up in your apartment. The man had sat watching you from a chair at the foot of your bed. In short sentences he had said that he wasn’t able to take you to a hospital but had stayed with you in case you had a concussion. He had also treated the cut from the knife on your cheek. You offered him money as a reward but he declined. When you saw he was filthy and bloody you’d offered him a shower and a change of clothes which he had hesitantly accepted. While he showered you checked your phone when breaking news alerts popped up about the Avengers. Clicking on the alert you saw snippets about SHIELD, Hydra and their weapon. The Winter Soldier. The man in your shower. A ruthless assassin was in your shower. A ruthless assassin… who had saved you.

Instead of running or calling for help, you couldn’t help wanting to know why he helped you. He confirmed everything you had read but said that after SHIELD and Hydra he wanted to run and be free from their clutches. His memory was obviously flawed so you gave him the basic information the article had revealed. He had said that while this information was fresh he needed to hide until he could figure out what to do. Whether to learn about his past or to move on and leave it behind. You’d never understand why but you offered to let him stay with you. During that time you had witnessed his nightmares and tried to help comfort him in the little ways he could bear; a glass of water, a blanket or pillow to hold on to because he still flinched at the slightest contact or just sitting close by so he wasn’t alone. Slowly but surely he began to open up and a tentative friendship was born with soft touches, small smiles and him sharing the little flashes of his life before Hydra. But you knew this couldn’t go on forever, he needed to decide what to do with his life. So you started mentioning the Captain America and Howling Commandos exhibit at the Smithsonian. And today he had finally gone.

“Come with me.” You couldn’t help giggling at the puzzlement adorning James’ face. It was a look he often wore when looking at you as if there was something about you he couldn’t figure out. You gestured to a black backpack which held your passport and your savings in. “James, you know I’ve saved up to go on a long vacation. Come with me. See the world. Learn who you are.”

The next few moments were all a blur. There was a sudden bang and smoke filled the apartment. Over the ringing in your ears you could hear some noise and when you looked up James was speaking to you but there was no sound. He was suddenly yanked away from you and you were also hauled to your feet as men dressed in black with large guns swarmed into your bedroom.

You barely registered the blade pressed to your throat as James was forced to kneel with his hands restrained behind his back. Both of you knew that he could break the restraints with laughable ease. But as you struggled to free yourself the hopelessness of the situation sank in. From what little you could understand there were reinforcements coming. James refused to leave without you. And the cold reality washed over you that you were going to die. But instead of worrying about your own life and trying to fight the inevitable, your concentration was the man who had such an impact on your life in such a short time.

Shame and defeat burned through Bucky. He had failed. To escape Hydra. To free himself. But most importantly he had failed to protect you who had done so much - risked so much - for him. His actions had led to this moment. They had almost certainly followed him from the museum. Bucky trembled as he met your gaze. Why did you look so apologetic? Bucky shook his head in reassurance and tried to brave a smile which caused yours to falter. He looked away guiltily.

“Longing.” It was breathed so softly that Bucky only heard it because of his enhanced hearing.

“Rusted.” Bucky’s skin began to crawl at the familiar words before he noticed the confused muttering in the room.

“Seventeen.”

Panic began to descend when his metal fingers flexed restlessly and his arm crackled. Bucky looked up to warn you, to hope you’d remember what he’d said but the words died in his throat. He had seen so many of your expressions - happiness, sadness, anger and even pity when he told you what little he could remember of his past lift and the torture he had been subjected to with Hydra. But to watch devastation and heartbreak twist your kind features as you used the words that he had taught you to beware and that he had dared hope to never hear again. His heart plummeted, not from betrayal but dread. You weren’t using them against him. You were using them for him.

Bucky struggled to fight his captors. Even as two goons dragged you into the adjacent room you continued to scream the words which sounded odd with your poor pronunciation but also in your sweet voice. Bucky roared as the cuffs snapped with a flick of each wrist and fought his way towards the door you had been herded through. The words still bled through the walls muffled but discernible to his ears. Screaming for you Bucky began to ram against the door.

As the whole wall seems to shudder from impacts on Bucky’s side you still reeled off his words that you remembered solely from memory. Tears streamed from your eyes as your heart shattered at Bucky’s pained cries for you. You only hoped that if he remembered this that one day he might realise your intentions. The last word had barely passed your lips before ending in a wet gurgle. One of the goons had stabbed you with a blade which now stuck out of your chest as you collapsed to the floor in a heap. When silence reigned through the space the second goon went to the door which then exploded in a shower of fragments and splinters and knocked him down. A familiar figure slowly stepped closer to the man who stabbed you. Though you knew this man he did not know you. His blue eyes were cold and remote.

“Soldargh!”

You watched the man squirm in the silver chokehold which slowly cut off his circulation and dropped him carelessly to the floor. Over the pounding in your head you heard a low mumble of Russian but it wasn’t until silver fingers glided along your wound that your attention moved back to your saviour. For a moment you thought that he might do something to end your suffering but instead he stared at you and you distantly realised he was waiting for instructions.

“Run.”

You weren’t sure if he understood but the slight dip in his brows was enough to show his recognition. Spluttering through the warm metallic liquid pooling in your mouth you lifted your leaden arm and pointed to the pack in the corner. There was a moment's hesitation before he walked over to the pack and picked it up before glancing at you when he heard your breathing become slow and shallow.

“Run. Don’t let them catch you.”

Your vision began to darken but you fought with every breath to watch as he tugged the bag over his shoulder. The last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was a pair of blue eyes that you hoped would one day forgive you.

[19blackbutterfly97-blog]

Beefy Bucky will always have my heart ❤️

I totally understand where certain fanfics are coming from.

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER FOUR: UNSHACKLED

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 4K

WARNINGS: Talks of past trauma, minor injuries, tiny bit of fluff, long overdue hurt-comfort

A/N: How are we feeling with all the Thunderbolts/Doomsday announcements?! I’m so excited!! Now without further ado, here's the next chapter! Hope you guys enjoy! <3

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Upon hearing the faint, rhythmic beeping of medical monitors, your eyelids fluttered open slowly, the light too harsh against the blurry haze in your vision. Your body screamed in protest, aching like every muscle and bone was protesting being awake. Despite the pain, you pushed through the fog, using every ounce of strength to prop yourself up on what felt like an unfamiliar cot.

The effort was too much, bad idea!

Almost immediately, the world around you tilted and spun violently, as if gravity itself had shifted in a cruel game of its own. "Woah, be careful," A voice, thick with an accent you couldn't quite place, called out sharply. You blinked rapidly, attempting to focus, and slowly, the figure of a young woman came into view. Her face was gentle, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern. She hovered close, almost like she was ready to catch you should you fall again.

You met her gaze, your mind still foggy, but there was something about her presence that felt oddly reassuring. She was probably around your age, her features soft but hardened with something unspoken, as though she had seen far too much already. "Where am I?" Your voice was rough, barely a whisper, as confusion still swirled around in your mind. "Wakanda," She muttered softly, her tone gentle yet confident. "You are safe." The words barely registered. Wakanda? The name triggered something deep in your mind.

Yet it quickly dissolved as your thoughts wandered back to the last thing you could remember. Bucky, Steve, your dad, that video, Zemo, a gun. The images flashed one after another, each one a sharp stab to your chest. "I... What happened? How—?" Your breathing quickened as you tried to clear your mind, pushing the fog aside to focus. "You have a minor concussion, a broken wrist, and a few fractured ribs," The girl interrupted gently, her eyes never leaving you as she assessed your every movement, waiting for signs of distress.

"But nothing more serious. You are lucky." Her words felt like a fragile assurance, but they didn’t ease the tension gnawing at your insides. Before you could stop it, the question spilled from your lips. "Bucky… and Steve… are they okay?" Your heart hammered in your chest, a mixture of hope and dread clashing inside you. Before she could respond, you saw a shadow moving in your peripheral vision. Instinctively, your eyes snapped toward it, and there he was—Steve. His figure stood framed in the doorway, and with just his presence, the tight coil of fear in your chest began to loosen slightly.

A wave of relief washed over you, but the exhaustion still weighed you down. Without thinking, you pushed yourself up from the bed, your legs unsteady beneath you, but you didn’t care. You limped toward him, the sharp ache in your side forgotten as you reached for him, enveloping him in a tight hug. "I've got it from here." His voice cut through the moment, low but commanding, as he spoke to the girl in the room. She hesitated for a second, but then, with a nod, she quietly left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving the two of you alone. As you pulled away, the breath caught in your throat.

His face was now marred by a series of dark, blossoming bruises. You swallowed, trying to suppress the nausea that crawled up your throat. "What happened?" He offered you a faint, reassuring smile, the kind that didn’t quite reached his eyes. "My dad did that, didn’t he?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the bile rising in your throat as you forced yourself to speak the words. The weight of them settled heavily in the room, and for a second, you couldn’t breathe. "Nothing I can’t handle," He muttered, but there was a tremor in his voice, a crack that betrayed the bravado. You wanted to believe him, but the doubt lingered.

You hesitated, eyes searching his face as a fresh wave of fear surfaced in your chest. The one question you’d been avoiding bubbled to the surface. "Zemo, is he—" Steve’s jaw tightened so sharply you thought it might crack. "He won’t hurt you or anyone else again." His words were low, firm, but something in the way he said them made you feel like there was more to the story. However, you decided to drop it for the time being. “Is Bucky okay? Please tell me my dad didn’t manage to get his hands on him.” You whispered, the tremor in your voice betraying you.

Your breath caught in your throat as the thought of Bucky lying hurt or worse at the hands of your father's blinded rage. A tight knot formed in your stomach as you waited for an answer, your chest tightening with every passing second. “You could see for yourself.” Without hesitation, you nodded, your body moving almost on autopilot. You allowed him to gently guide you, his hand steady on your arm as he carefully maneuvered you down the dimly lit hallway toward a room you didn’t recognize. Each step felt like an eternity, but you followed, desperate to see for yourself that Bucky was alright.

When you finally reached the door to the room, the sight before you felt like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from your chest. Inside, Bucky sat slumped on a medical bed, his posture defeated, as though the weight of everything that had happened, everything he had endured was too much for him to carry. His face was marred with deep, dark bruises across his jaw and under his eyes. His usual, sharp features were softened by pain, and the once unshakable Winter Soldier now looked vulnerable, shattered even. You winced, the sight of him so broken sending an ache through your chest.

But it was his left arm or, more accurately, the lack of it brought up more questions. Your mind screamed with confusion, and a sense of helplessness that only deepened as your eyes shifted around the room. In the center of the space, a cryo-chamber stood ominously, the metal casing reflecting the harsh lights of the room. It was a chilling reminder of what Bucky had been subjected through. Almost as if sensing the shift in your gaze, Steve's eyes followed yours, and without a word, he urged you forward toward Bucky, the weight of unspoken understanding passing between the two of you.

Only then did Bucky stir, lifting his head with a slow, painful movement. The moment his eyes met yours, your heart broke. “You sure about this?” Steve’s voice echoed through the room softly. Bucky’s laugh was a dry, hollow sound, a forced exhale that barely escaped his chest. "I can't trust my own mind," He muttered, his words heavy with exhaustion and defeat. His attempt at a smile faltered before it even began. "So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing," He paused, his gaze drifting to you, settling there, and something flickered in his eyes.

"For everybody." A cold shiver ran down your spine, and you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that still clung to the hope that there was something, anything that could bring him back, that could save him from the darkness of his own thoughts. “Steve," You found your voice, and it was softer than you had intended, trembling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. "Do you think I can talk to Bucky alone?" Steve gave a subtle nod, his face unreadable as he silently left the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that echoed louder than anything. In the silence that followed, Bucky braced himself, his body tense, rigid.

He knew the look in your eyes too well, the look of someone who had every right to be angry, to lash out at him for the things he had done, the choices he had been forced into. And he was sure, so sure that as soon as you were alone, you’d finally do what he feared most. You’d strike him, unleash the fury he’d deserved for too long. But when you finally moved toward him, it was not with the anger and fury he anticipated. Instead, you sat down next to him, the space between you barely enough to count. The proximity made him stiffen, his heart hammering in his chest, the air thick with the tension of everything unsaid.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you directly, so he stared at the floor, steeling himself for whatever was coming. But when you did meet his eyes, it wasn’t with hatred or disgust. It wasn’t even with pity. Instead, there was only softness, tenderness, a quiet understanding. And then, without hesitation, you placed your hand on his, on his flesh hand, the one that hadn’t been replaced, the one still capable of feeling warmth. Your touch was gentle, but it carried more than just comfort; it carried a message that Bucky wasn’t sure he deserved but needed more than anything.

You squeezed his hand lightly, a small, simple gesture, but it was enough. For the first time in years, Bucky didn’t flinch at the touch. His body, usually so conditioned to retreat from even the slightest form of contact, melted into your warmth. The walls he had so carefully constructed over time, built out of fear and trauma, seemed to crumble under the simplest act of kindness. He could feel the warmth of your hand seep into his skin, calming the storm that raged inside him. "Bucky," Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like a lifeline.

His eyes flickered from your face to where your hands were joined, a silent question in them. He could hardly believe what was happening. How your simple touch was making him feel something other than numb. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything else faded away, the room, the pain, the guilt. It was just you and him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe there was still a chance for something good to come from all of this.

"Bucky," You repeated again, softer this time. It was almost as if you were pulling him out of a fog, trying to anchor him to the present. His eyes were distant, somewhere far away, and for a moment, you wondered if he could even hear you. But then, after a long, aching pause, his cerulean eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the layers of guilt and shame that he couldn’t quite shed. The soldier, the man, and all the ghosts he carried within him, the pain was written all over his face.

And in that moment, you knew you had to say something that would shatter the walls he had so carefully built around himself. You needed him to hear you, to believe you, even if it was the hardest thing for him to do. "I want you to listen to me very carefully," You coaxed, your voice steady but laced with an emotion that made your chest tighten. Your hand still holding his, trembling slightly tightened its grip. It wasn’t a forceful move, but it was a silent plea, an unspoken promise that you would be there, that he wasn’t alone. "And I will say these words as many times as you need me to, until you believe me."

Bucky’s breath hitched as your words sank in, but still, you could feel the weight of his skepticism, the doubt that clouded his thoughts. He had heard too many lies, too many things that weren’t true about who he was. And yet, you pressed on, because you knew you had to. "None of what happened was your fault." The words hung between you, thick with an emotion that made it hard to breathe. Saying them was one thing. Believing them, hearing them from someone else was another. But you couldn’t hold back now. Not after everything he had been through.

"You, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, are and will always be an innocent man who did nothing wrong." A small shudder ran through him, and his eyes flickered with a storm of conflicting emotions. There was disbelief, shame, but also something deeper something that looked a lot like hope, even though he couldn’t fully reach for it yet. The words, though true, seemed to weigh him down more than they lifted him, as if he didn’t feel worthy of hearing them. As if his past had branded him forever, leaving a scar that no one could erase, not even you.

And then, almost as if he couldn’t bear the tenderness in your voice, he spoke, his words raw, vulnerable, and laced with guilt. "You should hate me." The sentence hung between you both, thick and suffocating. It wasn’t a question. It was a confession, a truth he carried like a burden. His voice cracked, just slightly, betraying the jagged edge of pain buried within him. “I’ve done… things. I’ve hurt people, people I cared about…” His eyes dropped to the space between you, avoiding your gaze, as if ashamed to meet your soft, understanding eyes.

But you refused to look away. You wouldn’t let him shrink into the darkness again. "No, Bucky," You whispered, shaking your head, your voice firm, steady despite the overwhelming tide of emotions crashing over you both. "I don’t hate you. I could never hate you." Your voice was filled with an intensity that made your breath catch, the truth of it sinking deep into your own soul. "I will never hate you." Your eyes locked with his, your gaze unwavering, as if to silently say that you weren’t going to let him carry that burden alone.

Not anymore.

Bucky swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. The vulnerability in his eyes, the fragile hope that flickered there, was something you would never forget. He had never allowed himself to be this open with anyone, especially not when it came to the parts of himself he felt were broken beyond repair. But there you were, holding him together with your words, with your mere presence. "You’re not a monster, Bucky," You added softly. "And as long as I'm around, I won’t let you believe that."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t heavy, but full of everything that had yet to be said. Bucky’s gaze softened, just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be forgiveness. Maybe he wasn’t as lost as he had thought. "Thank you." The words were soft, a little unsteady, but sincere. It was a rare vulnerability, the kind that was hard-earned and even harder to give.

As if guided by an unknown force, Bucky’s fingers tightly curled around yours, and for the briefest of moments, the world seemed to stand still. It was him who initiated the touch, a gesture that carried with it a thousand unspoken words, an offering of trust that he had withheld for so long. And as his hand gently pressed against yours, a flutter of warmth and something inexplicably light spread through you. However, the moment was short-lived. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours, the warmth of his touch fading as he gently let go. It was a small, deliberate movement, but one that sent a subtle pang through your chest.

Before you could fully process the loss of that connection, Steve re-entered the room, his presence pulling you both back into the reality of the situation. “You ready, pal?” Steve’s voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken, in the way he looked between you and Bucky. His eyes caught the soft flush on both your faces, and you could see the flicker of amusement he was trying unsuccessfully to hide. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he quickly masked it with a more serious expression, as though he didn’t want to intrude on the delicate moment that had just passed between you two.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve, the briefest hesitation in his gaze, before he nodded slowly, deliberately. With a final glance in your direction, he turned away and walked toward the Cryo chamber, his footsteps soft but purposeful. As he approached, the chamber hummed to life, the metallic walls shimmering in the faint light. The cold, mechanical hiss of the doors opening seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a sharp contrast to the warm, fragile connection that had just been forged only moments ago.

Bucky stood at the threshold for a moment, the weight of everything he'd been carrying settling into his posture. Then, without another word, he stepped inside. The gust of cold air enveloped him in a rush, the wind sharp and biting, but his expression remained unchanging, serene, almost tranquil. The whirring of the chamber grew louder, a steady, mechanical sound as the freezing process began. For a moment, you could almost see it in his face the way he surrendered to the cold, allowing it to swallow him whole. He looked at peace, the turmoil that had once defined him slipping away.

You couldn’t say how long you stood there beside Steve. Time felt like it had slipped away, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the Cryo chamber in the background. After all, Steve had just gotten his best friend back, only to lose him again, only this time to a sleep that might stretch on for days, months, or even longer. The silence between you stretched, thick and palpable, until Steve finally placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. The gesture, simple as it was, anchored you in that moment. With a slight nod, he led the way, and you both exited the room, walking in silence down the hallway.

As you moved further down the hall, the glass gave way to a breathtaking view that overlooked all of Wakanda. The vibrant landscape stretched endlessly below, the jungle below alive with color and the city shimmering in the distance. For a few moments, you both stood there allowing the weight of everything to settle over you. You watched the horizon, lost in thought, until the sound of footsteps broke through the stillness. Your gaze instinctively shifted, meeting the piercing eyes of King T’Challa as he approached. His posture was regal, confident, yet there was a kindness in the way he regarded you.

"Miss Stark," He greeted, his voice as smooth and measured as ever. You straightened, instinctively reaching out to shake his hand. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before moving to Steve. Steve didn’t even flinch, his eyes still fixed on the view outside. "Thank you for this," Steve muttered, his voice low and earnest. T'Challa nodded. “Your friend and my father, they were both victims. If I can help one of them find peace…” You watched as Steve’s gaze finally shifted from the window, locking with T’Challa’s.

"You know if they find out he's here, they'll come for him." T’Challa’s response was calm yet held purpose. “Let them try.” In that moment, you realized that this place was not just a refuge for Bucky, but a place where, perhaps, even the most broken of souls could find peace. "So you're a fugitive," Your voice cut through the quiet. You swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising panic, but the uncertainty clawed its way to the surface. "Where does that leave me?" The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t think anyone would answer.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the tension knotting in your stomach. There was no chance of reaching out to your father now, not after everything that had happened in Germany and Siberia. No, you were alone now. You had known that this moment was coming, but now that it was here, it was more terrifying than you could have anticipated. One of your greatest fears, the thing you had tried so hard to avoid, was finally real. You officially had no safety net left. "Hey," Steve coaxed almost as if sensing your inner turmoil.

“You’re not alone, as far as Ross' concerned you weren't involved in any of this." His words were meant to soothe, to ease the panic that was slowly suffocating you, but it wasn’t enough. Before you could muster any response, the familiar voice you'd heard earlier pierced the silence. “Y/N Stark, NYU transfer studying abroad for the remainder of the semester.” You whipped around to the sound of her voice, as everything started to slowly click into place. You hadn’t been able to see it before, but now, with clarity, you realized who she was. Shuri, princess of Wakanda.“I never had the chance to apply to NYU.” Your voice came out in a disbelieving whisper, your mind still trying to piece together how this all fit.

“You’re not the only one who can hack into other people's phones,” She declared smugly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Oh, you liked her already. She handed you something, and you took it instinctively, your hands trembling slightly as you unfolded it. Your eyes scanned the words, disbelief taking root in your mind. An official acceptance letter from the Department of Psychology at NYU. Your dream school. It was almost too much to process, too perfect, too unreal. But the reality of the letter was in your hands, in black and white.

“They won’t come looking for you,” She insisted, her voice firm, reassuring. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. This wasn’t just about a school or a chance at a degree. This was about a future, one that no longer seemed impossible, one that you hadn’t even dared to hope for in years. Your Mind-Weaver was still just an idea, a prototype in desperate need of a better name. But now? Now it didn’t feel so far out of your grasp. “After all, we’re going to need your assistance,” Shuri coaxed, her smile warm and purposeful. “When you aren’t studying, that is.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything. Name it.” The words came out before you could stop them. It was the least you could do after everything they had done for you, after how they had practically saved your life. “When Sergeant Barnes wakes up, he’s going to need a new arm,” She stated matter-of-factly, her gaze steady as she looked at you. “Care to live up to your reputation?” The weight of her words settled in your chest, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the crushing pressure of your last name holding you back.

In that moment you weren’t “Tony Stark’s Daughter”. There was no legacy to live up to in that moment, no expectations suffocating you. You were you. And you could feel the spark of hope flickering inside of you, growing brighter with every passing second. As you turned to face Steve, the look on his face was more than just reassurance. Maybe this was exactly what you needed, what you had always needed. To be somewhere you could be yourself, without the weight of family history pressing down on you. Maybe, just maybe, Wakanda was the place where you could find peace.

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