#sebastian stan ff

[pauls-mescal]

Sebastian Stan holding and signing a fake limb during the Miami Film Festival

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 15

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: unrequited love, angst, heartache...

A/N: A lot is said in this one lol not between bucky and her yet but you'll see lol. Also the flashbacks kinda tie into the chapters! The mike flashback will finish in the next chapter when her and bucky finally hash it out lmao

The city buzzed around you, but it all felt distant—like you were moving through a world that didn’t quite belong to you. Your feet carried you aimlessly, dodging crowds and cars, your mind swirling with everything you’d just said to Bucky. Everything he’d done. Everything you’d felt for so long but couldn’t say out loud until tonight.

Eventually, you found yourself in a quieter part of the city. The hum of traffic and voices softened, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional bark of a distant dog. You spotted a park bench under a flickering streetlight and sank onto it, your body heavy, your heart even heavier.

You sat there for a while, trying to steady your breathing, focusing on the cool air filling your lungs. In and out. In and out. But no matter how hard you tried, the tears wouldn’t stop. You wiped at them furiously, frustrated at how raw and exposed you felt.

You just don’t understand. Your brain can’t even begin to piece together how Bucky could do this. How have you been hurting him? You’ve been nothing but a great friend—loving him from the sidelines for so long. And now, when you finally have a chance at something outside of him, he crushes it.

A dark thought creeps in, twisting the knife further. Maybe, deep down, Bucky never truly was your friend. Maybe he secretly resents you because you could never do to him what he’s done to you. Maybe he hates you for making him feel something he can’t figure out how to handle.

But then another realization crashes over you, colder than the first. Have you been doing this to Steve the whole time? All these years, if what Bucky said is true—if Steve really is in love with you—oh god. Have you been breaking his heart, too?

The thought hits you like a freight train, leaving you breathless. Steve. You’ve been so consumed by your feelings for Bucky, by the endless cycle of longing and heartbreak, that you never stopped to consider the weight of your own actions. If what Bucky said was true, if Steve really had been in love with you all these years…

Your chest tightens as you think back to every lingering glance, every reassuring touch, every moment when Steve was there, steady and unwavering. He had always been your rock, the one person who could ground you when everything else fell apart. How many times had you leaned on him, venting about Bucky, crying on his shoulder, seeking comfort without a second thought?

And all the while, he was—what? Silently pining for you? Loving you in a way you never noticed because you were too busy looking at someone else?

The guilt settles in your stomach like a lead weight. What have I done to him?

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling. Have I been doing to Steve exactly what Bucky’s doing to me? Leading him on, even if unintentionally? Letting him love you while you poured all your love into someone else?

It’s too much. Your thoughts spiral, memories flashing like scenes from a movie. Steve’s quiet smiles, the way he always showed up when you needed him, the way he seemed to know you better than anyone else. How could you have been so blind?

But then your mind snaps back to Bucky. Bucky. The thought of him twists the knife in your chest all over again. His words, his actions—they’re like a tangled web, one you can’t seem to escape. You replay the fight in your head, the way his blue eyes burned with frustration, with something deeper and more vulnerable hidden beneath the surface.

He said you hurt him. That you hurt Steve. That you think you’re the only one who’s been in pain. How could he say that to you?

But the worst part is, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You’ve been so consumed by your own heartbreak, by the years of loving Bucky in silence, that maybe you didn’t see the ways you’ve hurt the people around you. Maybe you were so focused on surviving your own pain that you ignored theirs.

Your tears blur your vision as you stare at the empty park in front of you. What if Bucky’s right? What if you’ve been selfish this whole time? What if, despite everything, you’ve been blind to the way your actions ripple through the lives of the people you care about most?

You lean forward, elbows on your knees, and bury your face in your hands. The city feels impossibly big around you, like it could swallow you whole. The weight of your thoughts presses down on you, suffocating in its intensity.

But there’s one thought that refuses to let go: Why does it feel like everything you touch falls apart?

You’ve spent so many years loving Bucky, holding onto a hope that maybe, someday, he’d see you the way you see him. And now? Now you’re not even sure what any of it means anymore. The fight, the hurt, the years of unspoken feelings—they’re all crashing down around you, and you don’t know how to make sense of it.

And Steve. Sweet, dependable Steve. You think about the way he looked at you earlier, his eyes filled with something you now recognize as quiet resignation. How long has he been carrying that? How long has he been holding onto a love he knew you couldn’t return?

A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill over, but you blink them back, your hands clenching into fists. You’ve been selfish. Blind. And now it’s all unraveling.

The night stretches on, cold and unyielding, as you sit there, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of your relationships. You feel like a puzzle with missing pieces, and you’re not sure how to put yourself back together. Or if you even can.

You didn’t even flinch when someone sat beside you. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Because of course, it was Steve.

It was always Steve.

He didn’t say anything, just sat there, his broad frame a steady, comforting presence. You could feel his eyes on you, filled with quiet concern, but he didn’t push you to speak. He just waited.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally wiped at your cheeks one last time, sniffling softly as you turned to face him. The weight of everything Bucky had said still lingered, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Is it true?”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly. “What?”

You held his gaze, searching his face for any sign of denial. But he only looked confused until you asked again, this time without words. Just a look, one that carried all the weight of Bucky’s earlier confession.

Steve’s face softened, his shoulders sagging slightly as he let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t look away, didn’t try to deflect or change the subject. He just nodded, his voice low and steady.

“Yes.”

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You blinked at him, trying to process what that single word meant, what it changed.

“How long?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave you a sad, almost apologetic smile. “Since high school,” he admitted. “Maybe even longer.”

Your heart ached, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Steve looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting slightly. “Because I saw how you looked at him. And as much as it hurt, I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.” He paused, his voice softening further. “You’ve always been happiest when you’re with him.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. All the moments you’d shared with Steve over the years—the lingering glances, the quiet support, the unwavering presence—it all made sense now. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m not telling you this to make things harder. I just… I wanted you to know the truth. You deserve that much.”

The tears threatened to fall again, but you swallowed them back. “You’re such a good friend, Steve,” you whispered.

He nodded, his smile bittersweet. “Yeah. I’ll always be that, no matter what.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation settling between you. But despite the heaviness, there was a sense of clarity—a new understanding of the bond you shared.

Steve sat quietly beside you, the weight of your conversation pressing heavily between you. The hum of the city seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets. After a long stretch of silence, he took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his cautious gaze. “Yeah, of course” you said softly.

Steve hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was bracing himself. “Do you think… you could ever love me? More than a friend, I mean?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. You froze, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. It wasn’t unexpected, not after everything Bucky had said and the way Steve had just confessed his feelings. But hearing it out loud was different. It made it real.

For a moment, you didn’t answer, your mind racing. You thought back to all the times Steve had been there for you, all the quiet moments you’d shared, the safety and comfort he provided. You thought about how easy it would be to fall for him—to love someone as steady and kind as Steve.

And maybe… maybe you could have. Before the last couple of weeks, before everything with Bucky had come to a head. There was a time when things weren’t so complicated, and you might have let yourself feel more for Steve. But now?

Now your heart was a tangled mess of longing and pain, and you couldn’t see past Bucky.

You exhaled shakily, your voice breaking. “I don’t think I can,” you admitted, tears pricking at your eyes. “Not now. Maybe… maybe once, I could have. But everything’s different now.”

Steve’s face didn’t change much, but the way his shoulders sagged slightly told you he’d braced himself for this. “I see,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with sadness.

Your chest tightened painfully. “I’m sorry, Steve. You have no idea how much I wish I could. It would make everything so much easier.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you buried your face in your hands. “You deserve so much better than this, better than me,” you choked out. “You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart.”

Steve reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your shoulder. “Hey, don’t—”

But you pulled away, shaking your head. “Please don’t, Steve. I can’t let you do that,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t let you be the one to pick me up when I’m falling apart. Not like this.”

His hand dropped, and he swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “I get it.”

You both sat in silence again, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. Steve was always the one who stayed, the one who tried to make everything okay. But now, you’d drawn a line, and it felt like a small piece of your heart broke just from doing it.

“I’ll still be here,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “Whenever you’re ready, however you need me. That doesn’t change.”

You nodded, the tears still falling. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything. You’ve always been too good to me, i've never deserved this, i never deserved you”

Steve gave you a small, bittersweet smile, “You deserve the world” and you could see the depth of his love in his eyes. Even now, even when it hurt, he was still there. And that was what made it all so much harder.

Steve sat beside you, silent, the weight of your shared history and unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the cool night air. You’d both said so much, yet there was still an ache between you, a lingering sense that this moment wasn’t finished.

After a few moments, Steve reached into his jacket pocket, his hand hesitating before he pulled out a small, familiar object. The soft glow of the nearby street lights reflected off the delicate gold of the locket, the one you’d seen weeks ago at the farmers market, the one that reminded you so much of the one your mother gave you, and hers before that, the one you carelessly lost at that stupid party. He turned it over in his fingers for a moment, his expression unreadable, before holding it out to you.

Your breath hitched as you recognized it immediately. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve been holding onto this for a while,” he said softly. “I wasn’t sure when the right time would be, or if there even would be a right time.”

You stared at the locket, your heart twisting painfully. “You bought it?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He nodded. “I saw how much it reminded you of what you loss, when i brought it home to exam in i opened it up” he paused opening it up and your heart stopped, your grandma's note “The lady said her daughter found it at some party and thought she could make some money at the market”

Steve’s words lingered in the cool night air as he handed the locket to you, his fingers brushing yours for just a second. The warmth of his touch, so brief yet grounding, contrasted sharply with the whirlwind of emotions surging through you.

You took the locket gingerly, your eyes wide, the gold chain glinting in the soft glow of the streetlights. Your fingers traced the familiar curves and edges as though to confirm it was real. You opened it carefully, your breath catching when you saw the tiny, worn note tucked inside—the same one your grandmother had written years ago. You traced the intricate design, your mind flashing back to the day you’d first seen it, the quiet hope you’d felt, and the weight of everything that had happened since.

Tears blurred your vision. “Steve… I can’t believe this.” Your voice wavered, thick with emotion. “You didnt even know if was the one i lost, i didnt even, why would you—”

He shrugged, his smile soft, tinged with the kind of quiet understanding that only Steve could give. “I saw the way you looked at it and even i knew it was the one you lost, i just figured it could help give you a little piece of what the original one meant to you. I got lucky, when i opened it and saw that" He's gestured to your great grandma's note, "I thought, maybe—just maybe—it was meant to find its way back to you.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this,” you whispered, clutching the locket tightly. “I was so careless, and I thought I lost this forever.”

Steve leaned back slightly, his hands now resting on his knees as he looked at you with a mixture of tenderness and resolve. “You didn’t lose it forever,” he said gently. “It found its way back. Just like it was suppose to. I just… I wanted to make sure it did.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of everything—your fight with Bucky, your complicated feelings for Steve, the memories of your mother—all pressing down on you at once. “Steve…” you started, but your words faltered as you searched for the right thing to say, the gratitude and guilt tangling inside you.

He seemed to sense your struggle, his eyes softening even further. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to have it back.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that allowed you to think, to breathe, to feel. You closed the locket carefully, holding it against your chest. The cool metal pressed against your skin, a small but powerful reminder of everything you’d lost and found.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, low and full of emotion. “I know it’s not my place to fix things or to make things easier for you. But… I wanted you to know that I see you. I always have.”

“Steve,” you said again, your voice a broken whisper. “You’re… you’re too good.”

He shook his head, his eyes glistening. “No. I’m just someone who loves you, in whatever way you’ll let me.”

That broke you. A sob escaped your lips, and you covered your mouth, trying to hold yourself together. But the tears kept coming, and Steve just watched, his own eyes brimming with unshed emotion.

After a moment, you managed to look up at him, your voice barely audible. “I wish I could love you the way you deserve.”

Steve smiled gently, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “And it’s okay.”

You held the locket to your chest, as if it could somehow steady the storm inside you. “You’ve always been there for me,” you whispered. “Always. And I’ve never deserved it.”

Steve reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “You don’t have to deserve love,” he said softly. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”

You both sat there for a while longer, the world around you blurring into the background. Finally, Steve stood, offering you a hand to help you up.

“Come on,” he said, his voice steady. “Let’s get you home.”

You nodded, slipping the locket around your neck, feeling its weight settle against your heart. It was a piece of him, a piece of everything you shared, and it would stay with you, no matter where life took you next.

As you walked beside him, the silence between you was full of understanding. It wasn’t the ending either of you had imagined, but it was a moment of truth, a quiet acknowledgment of what had always been there and what might never be.

Summer

The sun was high, casting its golden rays over the park as laughter echoed through the wide-open fields. It was one of those rare Saturdays where everyone’s schedules aligned, and the entire group had decided to spend the day outside.

Sam had commandeered the grill, expertly flipping burgers with a pair of tongs in one hand and a beer in the other. “I’m telling you, my secret seasoning is gonna blow your minds,” he bragged, tossing a wink over his shoulder.

Natasha smirked from her spot on a picnic blanket, her sunglasses perched on her nose. “Your secret seasoning better be more than just salt and pepper, Wilson,” she shot back, taking a sip from her drink.

Wanda giggled, her legs stretched out in front of her as she picked at a bag of chips. “Sam’s been talking about his ‘grilling skills’ all week. It better be good, or we’re ordering pizza.”

“You wound me,” Sam said dramatically, clutching his chest.

Steve stood nearby, setting up a game of cornhole with Bucky. “Alright, who’s teaming up?” Steve asked, holding up the bean bags. His eyes flicked to you for a second longer than necessary before he quickly looked away.

“I’m with Nat,” Wanda chimed in, grinning as she elbowed Natasha. “We’re unbeatable.”

Natasha nodded confidently. “Damn right we are.”

Steve turned to you and Bucky. “Guess it’s us versus you two.”

You raised an eyebrow at Bucky, who was leaning lazily against a tree, sipping from his bottle of beer. “Think you can keep up, Barnes?”

He smirked, pushing off the tree to stand beside you. “I think the real question is, can you?”

The game started off competitive, with Sam and Steve shouting exaggerated encouragement from the sidelines. “Aim for the hole, Buck!” Steve yelled, laughing when Bucky glared at him after missing.

“Oh, brilliant advice, Captain Obvious,” Bucky muttered, his cheeks tinged pink. He turned to you, leaning in. “You got this, right? Show ‘em how it’s done.”

You laughed, tossing your bean bag and landing a perfect shot. “Boom,” you said, giving Bucky a playful nudge. “That’s how it’s done.”

Bucky grinned, holding up his hand for a high five. “We make a good team,” he said, his voice softer, his blue eyes twinkling.

Natasha, ever observant, raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses but said nothing, nudging Wanda when Bucky wasn’t looking.

By the time lunch rolled around, everyone was sprawled out on the blankets, full of Sam’s surprisingly good burgers and Wanda’s homemade cookies. Steve sat cross-legged next to you, while Bucky leaned back on his elbows on your other side.

Natasha watched the scene unfold, a small smile playing on her lips. She caught Steve stealing a glance at you when you weren’t looking, and her smile faltered slightly, her fingers toying with the edge of her cup. Wanda noticed and gave her a reassuring nudge, mouthing, You okay?

Natasha nodded, brushing it off. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment.

“Alright,” Sam said, clapping his hands together. “Who’s up for some frisbee?”

Steve stood immediately. “I’m in.”

“Same,” you said, hopping up and pulling Bucky along with you. “Come on, let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

Bucky groaned but let you drag him to his feet. “I’ll show you sweetheart.’”

Natasha and Wanda stayed behind on the blanket, content to watch as you all ran around like kids. Wanda sighed happily. “This is nice,” she said, leaning back on her hands. “Feels like we haven’t done this in forever.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes following Steve as he ran after the frisbee. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice a little distant. “It’s perfect.”

Wanda glanced at her, her brow furrowing slightly. “You’re still not gonna tell him?”

Natasha shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s not the right time.”

Wanda sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she watched as Steve tossed the frisbee to you, his face lighting up when you caught it with ease, your laughter ringing out. Bucky cheered you on, his arm slinging around your shoulders for a brief moment, and Wanda couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s smile faltered, just for a second.

Despite the complicated dynamics, the love and friendship within the group were undeniable. It was in the way Sam teased everyone mercilessly but was the first to help when needed. In the way Natasha always had a sarcastic quip but fiercely defended her friends. In the way Wanda’s quiet warmth balanced out everyone’s chaos. And in the way Steve and Bucky—despite everything—always had each other’s backs. And in the way you were the glue always keeping everything and everyone together.

The afternoon faded into a golden sunset, and as you all sat together, sharing stories and laughs, it felt like nothing could break the bond you all shared.

For now, at least.

The alley was dimly lit, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp. Bucky stormed out of the bar, his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. The cool night air did little to calm the fire raging inside him. He barely made it a block before he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking rapidly behind him.

“Bucky Barnes, stop right there!” Natasha’s voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the city.

He barely had time to turn before she grabbed his arm and shoved him against the rough brick wall of the alley, her hands pressing firmly against his chest.

“What the hell, Nat?!” Bucky snapped, but she wasn’t having it.

“No, you don’t get to talk right now!” she shot back, her green eyes blazing. “I am so sick of this, Bucky! So sick of you and her dancing around each other like you’ve got all the time in the world!”

Bucky’s mouth opened, but Natasha cut him off with a furious glare.

“You love her,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’ve always loved her. And she’s loved you since before any of us even knew what love was! But you’re both so goddamn stubborn, so scared, that you’re wasting your lives.”

“Natasha, you don’t—” Bucky tried, but she jabbed a finger into his chest, stopping him cold.

“Shut up, Bucky! Just shut up and listen for once!” She stepped back, running a hand through her hair. “We’re all in our mid-twenties now. We’re not kids anymore. You and her? You were supposed to set the tone for love. You were supposed to show the rest of us that it’s worth it, that it’s real. But instead, you’re both stuck in this endless loop of fear and self-sabotage.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, his eyes flickering with guilt. “Nat, it’s not that simple…”

“Bullshit!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the narrow alley. “It is that simple! You’re scared. You’ve always been scared. But guess what? So is she! And you know what else? You’re not just hurting yourselves—you’re hurting everyone around you.”

She took a shaky breath, her voice lowering but no less intense. “Steve’s been in love with her for years, and it’s killing him. And me?” She laughed bitterly. “I’ve been in love with Steve since high school, Bucky. But do you think he’ll even look at me the way he looks at her? No. Because he’s stuck, just like you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in shock, but Natasha wasn’t done.

“I’ve been waiting, Bucky. Waiting for Steve to see me, to love me the way he loves her. But he can’t, because you and her keep dragging this out, making it impossible for any of us to move on! And god if i told her..”

Her voice cracked, and for the first time, her anger gave way to raw vulnerability. “I can’t do it anymore, Bucky. I can’t keep watching the two people I love most in the world destroy themselves and everyone else around them.”

Bucky looked down, his heart pounding. The weight of Natasha’s words hit him like a freight train. “Natasha, I…”

She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “You need to tell her, Bucky. Tell her you love her. Stop running, stop hiding, and stop making excuses. She deserves to be happy. You deserve to be happy. And if you can’t do it for yourselves, then do it for the rest of us, do it for me Bucky” she pleaded

Bucky swallowed hard, his hands clenching at his sides. “What if… what if I’m too late?”

Natasha sighed, her anger softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But you won’t be too late, Bucky. She’s been waiting for you her whole life.”

She pulled back, her eyes searching his. “But this? This has to end, tonight. Go to her. Fix this. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of us can start to heal too.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his chest tight. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do more than try,” Natasha said firmly, stepping back and crossing her arms. “Now go. Before I change my mind and punch you again.”

Bucky gave her a small, appreciative nod before he opened his mouth “Does anyone else know?” He asked, referring to her confession about Steve.

Natasha smiled sadly and said “Wanda”

College

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the campus was bathed in soft, honeyed light, and the air carried the faintest chill. You sat cross-legged on the quad, a pile of books spread out in front of you. The vibrant reds and oranges of the trees framed you like a painting, the wind occasionally tugging at your hair and making it dance in the sunlight.

Steve watched from a distance, leaning against a tree with a sketchbook balanced on his lap. His pencil hovered over the page, but he hadn’t drawn a single line in minutes. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you.

You were laughing, your head thrown back as Bucky said something undoubtedly ridiculous. Steve couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He could see the way your eyes lit up, how you leaned in closer to Bucky as if the rest of the world had melted away. The way Bucky looked at you—grinning, but with an ease that Steve envied—made Steve’s chest tighten.

“You’re staring again,” Natasha’s voice broke through his thoughts, jolting him back to reality. She plopped down beside him, her sharp gaze cutting right through his defenses. “Not a good look, Rogers.”

Steve sighed, lowering his pencil. “I’m just—”

“Sketching,” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He didn’t argue. There was no point. Natasha had known for a long time—probably since the day the three of you met her. She was good at reading people, and Steve was an open book when it came to you.

“She doesn’t see it, you know,” Natasha said after a beat, her tone softer now.

Steve glanced at her, his jaw tightening. “Doesn’t see what?”

Natasha gave him a look, one that said she wasn’t going to let him play dumb. “You. The way you look at her like she’s the only thing that matters.”

Steve let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, does it? She only has eyes for Bucky.”

Natasha sighed, leaning back on her hands. “And Bucky… Bucky’s too blind to realize what he’s got right in front of him.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back to you. You had your hand on Bucky’s arm now, laughing at whatever joke he’d just made. Bucky, for his part, seemed blissfully unaware of the way your touch lingered just a second too long, the way your eyes softened when they met his.

Steve felt a pang of something between longing and resignation. “I just want her to be happy.”

“And what about your happiness?” Natasha asked, her voice low.

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he flipped the page of his sketchbook, finally putting pencil to paper. He didn’t need to look up to draw you; your image was already burned into his memory. Every line of your face, every curve of your smile, every glint in your eyes.

“Maybe some people aren’t meant to have that kind of happiness,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Natasha.

Natasha sighed, her expression softening. She reached out, giving his arm a light squeeze. “You’re a good guy, Steve. But you deserve more than being someone’s second choice.”

Steve didn’t respond, his focus locked on the sketch forming beneath his hand. But deep down, he knew she was right. He deserved more. He just wasn’t sure he could ever want anyone else the way he wanted you.

Natasha’s gaze lingered on Steve for a moment longer, her hand still resting on his arm. Her heart ached, not just for him, but for herself. She’d seen the way Steve looked at you for years, and every time, it chipped away at the small sliver of hope she held onto. Steve was kind, strong, and everything she wanted, but his heart belonged to you. It always had.

“Steve,” she said softly, almost hesitant. When he didn’t respond, she pulled her hand back, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the tree beside him. “You deserve someone who sees you.”

Steve’s pencil paused, his hand hovering over the sketch. He glanced at her, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them. But then his gaze shifted back to you, and Natasha felt her chest tighten.

The sound of your laugh carried across the quad again, pulling both their attention back to you. You looked so radiant, so alive, and so hopelessly, irretrievably in love with Bucky.

And Steve? Steve would keep loving you silently, from the sidelines, even if it tore him apart.

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a small smile. She’d keep loving Steve the same way, even if he never looked at her the way he looked at you.

[amasterpieceofmadness]

hooked on a feeling - bucky b.

summary You're an overthinker and instead of sleeping you are listening to music in the living room, when Bucky decides to join you and you two end up dancing together and kissing

wordcount 920

warnings none; fluff; mentions of insomnia, overthinking and nightmares

Being part of the Avengers is not always easy. Your mind is constantly thinking about the next mission, or the last, about all the (possible) danger out there and so much more. Basically, you're an overthinker. And your thoughts are loudest when the world around you is quiet, like at nights.

As usual you toss and turn in your bed, unable to find sleep. After what feels like hours you decide to get up. You tip toe into the dark and quiet living room, as the others are most likely asleep by now. You only turn on the small light in the kitchen as you make yourself a cup of tea and wait patiently for the water to boil.

With the mug in your hands you walk over to one of the big windows and turn on the stereo system on the go. As you sip your tea and watch out the window some old songs start to play, quiet enough to not wake up the others but loud enough for your thoughts to shut down. Music has always helped you to calm your mind. You can't help but hum softly to the songs and start to sway just a tiny bit.

After a while you hear someone clearing his throat behind you and you turn around surprised, just to find Bucky leaning against the kitchen counter with crossed arms, watching you.

"Oh, hey Bucky" you greet him with a shy smile, embarrassed that you got caught.

"Hey doll" His voice is deep and low, almost a bit hoarse. "Can't sleep?"

You shake your head and look back outside with a sigh. "No, as usual..."

Bucky sighs and walks over next to you and looks out the window as well. "Me neither"

It wasn't unusual for you and Bucky to meet in the living room in the middle of the night as you both suffer from insomnia and stuff. You two always got along well. Some nights you talk about his nightmares or your thoughts, others you just enjoy each others company in silence while listening to some music. Tonight seems to be one of those nights.

After some time one of your favorite songs come on - Hooked on a Feeling and Bucky turns his head to look at you. "This is your favorite, no?"

You smile softly at him, he really paid attention, didn't he? "Yeah, on of my favorites"

Bucky nods and listens to the familiar "Ooga-Chaka" line before he then joins in to the lyrics. "I can't stop this feeling..."

To say you are surprised would be an understatement. Bucky has never sung to you before and you didn't even know that he knows the lyrics to this song.

"Deep inside of me..." He continues. "Girl, you just don't realize" He turns his head to you and sings with this smug grin on his face "What you do to meee"

You can't help but join in as well. "When you hold me, in your arms so tight..."

"You let me know"

"Everything's alright" You finish Buckys line.

"I'm hooked on a feeling!" Bucky sings now, his voice no longer low like before, but more powerful and he seems to be a lot more at ease then when he joined you at the window.

"I'm high on believing!" you sing now same as him, a huge grin plastered on your face and your overthinking long gone.

"That you're in love with me" Bucky sings and then stretches his hand out for you to take. So you do just that and without warning Bucky spins you around. "Lips as sweet as candy!"

You two continue to sing and dance to the song. Bucky pulls you a bit closer with every line until you are interwined completely, swaying to the music. You feel hypnotized by his movements and his voice and it feels like right now the world around you is gone. Both if you seem to just live in this moment and enjoy it to the fullest as Bucky spins you around in the dim light of the living room.

Finally the last verse comes on and you are pressed against Buckys chest, his metal hand on your back and his other still holding yours gently as he sings with more passion this time, looking directly into your eyes. "I'm hooked on a feeling"

"And I'm high on believing" you sing along as Bucky places your hand on his shoulder and brushes a strand of hair out of your face gently.

"That you're in love with me" He almost whispers those last words as his hand cups your cheek and you feel like it meant more than a simple song lyrics.

Bucky leans slowly closer to you, his hold on you firm but still gentle until his face is only inches apart from yours. You can feel his hot breath againt your lips and for a moment Bucky hesitates before closing the gap between you two and kissing you softly. You close your eyes and lean into the kiss without thinking, your heart skipping a beat.

When he pulls away again he can see the soft blush on your cheeks and smiles gently. "Always wanted to do that, doll" Bucky whispers before starting to sway with you in his arms once again as the next song comes on.

And so you spent the rest of the night dancing to the music and exchanging sweet kisses every now and then, both of you feeling at ease and happy.

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 4,826

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: Bucky is mean, a couple of insults, mistreatment of age regressed reader, crying, mentions of hot liquid getting on skin, crying, mentions of the r-word and the s-word, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares

A/N: so this is an idea I've had for forever and I finally mustered up enough courage to share it with you guys. Please enjoy and let me know what you think and if you have anything you'd like to suggest for the upcoming parts. I love you 💜

~

“This sounds stupid,” Bucky grumbled when Sam suggested the program.

“It's not stupid, Buck and it works!”

“If it worked for you doesn't mean it's gonna work for me, Sam. You have patience and it's in your nature to want to take care of people.”

“Says the one who looked out for Steve all his life!”

“Steve was one person and he was actually dumb, he wasn’t acting like he can't fucking feed himself!”

“They're not acting. They're age regressed.” Sam tried to remain calm.

“What does that even mean!”

“It means—”

“You know what? I don't care because I'm not doing it.” Bucky smiled before leaving Sam's house and going back to hide in his own.

But Sam was persistent. He was determined to get Bucky help that would actually help. So he suggested the program to Bucky's therapist and before Bucky could punch him, she was having him sign the contract.

“Sam, I don't wanna meet anyone. It's not gonna work anyway so let's just pick any of them.”

“They're not service dogs, Bucky!”

“Really? Because that's exactly what it sounds like they are to me.”

Sam glared at him, elbowing his side as a short lady with a kind smile approached them.

Bucky didn't pay her much attention. He didn't want to be here and he didn't care what she was reciting.

Only thing that caught his attention was when she asked him what age he would prefer so she could introduce him to a group of littles.

He was dreading this. It was stupid.

“…what are you looking for?” Bucky caught the end of her talk with Sam.

“I don't know, someone who can talk like they're not retarded,” he answered the lady rudely and she smiled in understanding when Sam apologized.

“They're not retarded. All of them are perfectly healthy and okay. They're age regressed,” she told Bucky and he rolled his eyes so hard he felt they might never return from the back of his head.

He hated those two words. Age regressed, what the fuck did that even mean?

“Maybe we can meet some of the littles who are not so young, like 6 year olds?” Sam suggested and she nodded, leading them to a building with long corridors and lots of doors.

Bucky could see adult women and men playing with dolls, sleeping with pacifiers and some of them even had other people feeding them.

What the hell was this place? Did they expect him to do that? With a person perfectly capable of handling his or her own self but chooses not to?! Was this the 21st century? Because he didn’t like it very much.

The lady led them inside her office and got a group of files out of some organized drawer. She'd barely laid them out on the table before Bucky was slamming his finger on one.

“We'll take this one,” he said, staring at the lady in disinterest.

“But you haven't even seen them,” Sam said between his teeth, kicking his leg under the table. He wished Bucky cared enough to do this right.

“I've seen enough. I pick this file and I wanna leave,” Bucky seethed back.

“This is Doll. She's one of the softest littles I've ever met and I think you've made a great choice, Mr. Barnes.”

“You call her Doll?”

“Yes, real names aren't revealed for the privacy of our littles unless they decide otherwise and she chose the name herself when she joined us.” The lady smiled kindly, making Bucky even madder.

“Whatever, let's get this over with. Tell her to come so we could leave.”

“Mr. Barnes, I have to admit your attitude towards this is very concerning and I fear I cannot risk the peace of our littles who confide in us to find them safe partners! Like I said she's one of the gentlest and I need to know you're going to treat her right before I even let you meet her!” The woman voiced her concerns and Bucky sighed.

He couldn't blow this now. He's come far enough with this whole process and if he went back to his therapist like that she was definitely going to get out her dreadful notebook.

He had to take this girl home tonight or else they would make him go through this same process over and over again.

“I'm sorry. I'm just a little confused, I guess.” Bucky scratched his beard.

“That's okay.” She smiled again, “most of our visitors are, but you can always ask.”

“Well— what is wrong with them?!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands in the air.

Sam kicked him again and glared.

“What? She said I could ask!”

“It's okay,” she told Sam with a chuckle.

“Nothing is wrong with them. Them regressing in age is their way to cope and relieve anxiety or deal with other mental illnesses such as traumatic experiences, or even just stress. It's a freer, calmer state of mind for them to return to when it's no longer easy for them to be big.”

Her calm, kind manner while explaining this made Bucky even angrier inside. This wasn’t normal and they should all stop acting like it was.

“So they're supposed to be helping me with my issues but they're dealing with their own issues?”

Like he originally thought, this was stupid.

“Yes, it's a mutual helping program.” The lady confirmed.

“Oh. And what's this Doll's issue?”

“Doll reverts to age regression as a coping mechanism for her depression and PTSD. She's been doing great lately actually!”

“Is she suddenly gonna go grownup or?” Bucky continued, involuntarily asking every question on his mind.

“No, like I said, Doll reverts to little space for the comfort and safety of it and while she can coax herself out of her headspace, she rarely ever chooses to.”

“But she can?”

“Yes. But I need to tell you, Mr. Barnes, that this is not why you're here.” She reminded, wanting to ensure the safety of self expression for the little one.

“I know.”

“I also need you to promise me to be a good caregiver for her. She's a sweet girl and I can guarantee she will be good for you.”

“I promise.” Bucky knew he was lying but he couldn’t care less about his honesty at the moment.

“And it’s never acceptable to make fun of her or try to force her into a more grownup headspace. That only makes it worse and her mind regresses further.”

“So what she becomes younger?!” He was trying so hard not to get frustrated, why make him!

“That's correct.” She nodded.

“How young?” Sam asked.

“The youngest she's ever been is 4.”

“Oh.” Great. Just great.

“She can still talk just fine,” she reassured them, knowing Bucky didn't want anyone who couldn't talk or seemed 'retarded'.

“Okay, good.” Bucky nodded, wanting to get out of the place as soon as possible.

“Would you like to meet Doll now or do you wanna take a look at the rest of the files?”

“I'll meet her.” Bucky stood up, hand already at the doorknob.

~

The meeting thing went relatively well and Bucky was surprised the girl wasn't intimidated by his frown or intense stare. She was mesmerized by the metal arm even.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he still thought this whole thing was dumb but he needed to convince his therapist and everyone that he was okay again so they'd leave him alone.

She didn’t ask him any questions or have any conditions. She just stared at him with wide, sparkly eyes.

A minute later he heard the girl whisper her agreement to the short lady.

Apparently, she was big enough to make the decision to leave with a strange man she didn't know but not enough to properly dress herself or sleep without a damn toy.

Bucky was relieved anyway; glad she was idiotic enough to choose him so he wouldn't have to meet with any other 'littles'. And she wasn't ugly to look at either.

The old lady had a word with her privately before she was packing a bag and they were on their way to Bucky’s place.

~

“Where do I stay, daddy?”

Bucky hasn’t said a word to her since they’d left the institution. He made her carry her bag from the car to the elevator and from the elevator inside the apartment. He wasn’t going to be nobody’s maid.

She was physically capable and that didn’t need a professional to see it.

“I don’t know, figure it out.” Bucky shrugged, kicking his shoes off by the door and stepping inside.

She followed his lead and neatly placed her shoes at the corner by the door as well.

“Where do you want me to stay, daddy?” she asked politely, wanting to make him comfortable, seeing he was the owner of the house.

He was making her a little nervous.

This wasn’t his energy back at the institution and she tried her best not to get scared.

“I don't want you. I never did,” Bucky told her the minute she sat on his couch, throwing his keys on the wooden coffee table, “We're just gonna pretend your presence here is changing something and then I'm gonna return you.”

I don't want you.

She's definitely heard that before.

Return her. Like she was some sort of item. She wasn't what he wanted and it cracked her trained-to-love heart.

“Yes, daddy,” she replied brokenly, tears threatening to spill over the rims of her eyes.

Nothing was worse than feeling unwanted.

“Don't call me that.” Bucky snapped.

“B— But you're my daddy.” She was seriously confused now. Why would he pick her if he didn’t want this?

“I'm not your anything and stop acting so small, you look grown up enough to me.”

Why did he take her home if he didn’t like her and didn’t want to be her Daddy?

“I'm not acting.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt more insecure than ever.

“Yeah, yeah, you're age regressed. Whatever, just don't call me that. I'm no one's daddy.” Bucky took his shirt off throwing it on the couch beside her, making her flinch.

“But what should I call you if not—”

“Call me Mr. Barnes, if you're so keen on being polite.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She sniffled.

“And stop crying.” He huffed.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She quickly wiped at her face, holding the rest of her tears inside and forcing the lump in her throat further down.

Bucky muttered something under his breath before snatching his shirt and leaving to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as she flinched again.

He didn't say she was a good girl for calling him what he wanted, or for stopping her crying when she was told to. He didn't like her and he wanted to return her.

What was she supposed to do until he sent her back? He didn't want her help even if they said he needed it.

Was it going to be like this for the next 3 months? How was she going to do all of the grown up stuff if Daddy Mr. Barnes didn't help her? How was she going to live? And why did she still care to try her best to be good for the harsh, blue-eyed man?

~

She didn’t know what to do so she sloppily changed her clothes by herself, putting her socks in the hamper to be washed like a good girl.

She washed her hands and feet by herself, unknowingly making Bucky think he was right all along about letting her do things on her own as she should.

That was until he put a hot cup of instant noodles before her for dinner though. He refused to help her eat and she accidentally spilled hot soup over her hand and the wooden table. It was chaos.

Bucky cursed out loud and she started crying in pain.

He had enough pity on her to drag her to the bathroom and put her hand under the cold water. If his hold on her arm hurt, she didn’t say anything.

“Keep it there, don’t you dare move.”

“Mr. Barnes, don’t leave,” she sniffled, eyes red and in pain.

“I’m not leaving you in the Sahara desert.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “I gotta go clean the mess you made.” He left her in the bathroom and she kept her hand under the water, not daring to move like she was told.

“How hard is it to eat fucking noodles! It’s not quantum physics!” Bucky muttered angrily as he wiped the soup off the table with a cloth.

“Fuck that age regression shit I am done!” He took their noodle cups to the kitchen and dumped both in the bin.

“What are you still doing in there! It’s not like you got burnt by lava!” Bucky shouted to her, walking to the bathroom.

“I— I— Mr. Barnes, you told me not to move.” She began crying again at his angry demeanor.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky groaned, “do you ever stop crying?!”

“I’m s-sorry.” She hiccupped. She didn’t know what to say or how to please him she just wanted him to stop glaring at her. She was scared.

“Get out of there and dry your hands,” Bucky told her, sitting on the couch with a sigh.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Came her chocked whisper.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked when she came out of the bathroom, tears drying on her cheeks.

The question surprised her. Maybe he did care after all.

“Burns a little,” she told him, pointing to the back of her hand where the skin got burnt.

“I might have a cream here somewhere,” he said, trying his best to keep an unconcerned expression on.

She took a look around when Bucky stood up to look in the kitchen. It was a cozy place and she wasn’t too needy but she couldn’t help but wonder about where she was going to sleep.

There didn’t seem to be enough furniture in here.

“Try not to touch it and you should be fine in the morning,” Bucky instructed after applying the burns cream to the sensitive area of skin.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She whispered before absentmindedly pecking Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her guts. He certainly didn’t see that coming. It was her first night here how was she so bold!

His breath stuttered out of his lungs but he quickly recomposed himself.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he gave her a dark stare.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“N— No.” She quickly shook her head.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“No.” She shook her head again, sort of knowing where this was going. She was going to get punished.

“Then why’d you do it?” Bucky sneered through his teeth.

“To th— thank Mr. Barnes.” He made her so nervous she could barely hear herself answer him.

Bucky hated her. She had no sense of boundaries. He hated the way she cried all the time. He hated the way she referred to him in third person.

He hated her.

“You already said that, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Don’t do it again.” Was all Bucky said and she was relieved.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky scoffed and stood up to put the cream back where he found it.

~

Turned out, Bucky had no bed. He slept on the floor and he didn’t need one.

“But where do I sleep, Mr. Barnes?” She asked in a small voice.

“Anywhere that is not next to me,” Bucky replied, not even sparing her a glance.

“Can I sleep here?” she asked, patting the couch.

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She gave a shy smile.

“I didn’t make the damn couch. Just go to sleep.”

“Bad word again,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” She slammed a hand on her mouth.

“Repeat what you just said if you know what’s good for you.” Bucky glared.

“I— Mr. Barnes said a bad word,” she whispered shakily.

“Yeah, well, it’s my house! I’ll talk however I want!” Bucky raised his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She nodded, not even thinking about arguing that he shouldn’t curse in front of a little.

“Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She quickly plopped on the couch, covering herself with a blanket, and burying her face in a cushion.

Bucky almost chuckled; almost thought it was cute but he shook the smile off his face quickly and sighed, taking his shirt off and getting himself on the hard floor, easily falling asleep.

He always falls asleep so fast because nightmares usually wake him up few hours after; he be waiting for bed time all day.

She peeked from under the blanket when she heard Bucky snore, carefully tiptoeing to her bag to get her stuffie. She took one look at shirtless Bucky, her cheeks heating up, before sliding back under the covers on the couch.

Her Daddy that didn’t like to be called Daddy was beautiful.

~

It has started again. He’s chasing a person, he corners them to where they could not run anymore, his left hand wraps around their throat, they struggle and beg and then snap. He kills them.

Bucky startled awake, having a hard time taking his breath only to find her on the floor next to him.

Her eyes were full of worry and maybe even sympathy as she clutched a stuffed animal. Bucky didn’t like it.

“It’s okay, Daddy— Mr. Barnes. ‘T was just a bad dream.” She whispered, dropping her stuffie to wrap her short arms around Bucky.

He wouldn’t admit it but it felt nice to be held. Something inside him wanted to succumb to the gentleness of her gesture. But Bucky shut that down at once.

“Get off,” Bucky huffed tiredly as the girl clung to him and rubbed his sweaty back.

“But—”

“Get. Off.” He repeated, grinding his teeth and she reluctantly slipped off his lap and went back to her spot on the floor.

She stared at him as he panted and frowned for a second before leaving the room.

Bucky scoffed, rubbing a hand down his hot face. She probably went to cry in the bathroom again; such a crybaby.

Except she didn’t.

She returned with a relatively cool glass of water, only half full. She didn't want to be bad and spill.

“I got you water, Mr. Barnes.” She carefully got on her knees and offered him the cup.

“Stop saying my name so much.” Bucky snatched the cup out of her hand, gulping down the water without showing an ounce of gratitude.

She pouted, crawling to her bag to get him tissues because she didn’t see any around.

“So you do know how to act around liquids after all.” Bucky taunted, still not over the fact that she spilled soup over his table before taking the tissues from her to wipe his forehead.

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby, Mr. Barnes? It helps me after bad dreams.” She suggested, desperately hoping he would let her help.

“Not all of us act like kids to flee our nightmares.”

“Mr. Barnes.” Her eyes filled with tears and it was the last thing Bucky wanted to deal with, “I’m not acting.”

She was hurt but he didn’t care. He said what he said.

“Get back on the couch, I wanna go to sleep.” Bucky dismissed, pushing the empty glass against the wall.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She whispered dejectedly, taking her friend and crawling back to the couch.

~

The same thing happened every night for another four nights. At this point she was really worried about the man she started singing lullabies anyway, not waiting for his permission.

“Hey, you!”

“Doll,” she corrected.

“Whatever! Shut up already. I told you I don’t need your stupid singing.” Bucky growled into his pillow.

He was lying. He hated admitting it but he was. Her voice was actually angelic. He never went back to sleep again after a nightmare but that changed when she ignored his wishes and started singing. Bucky could drift off again to her soft voice.

He could get more hours of nightmareless sleep because of her lullabies. But he was too stubborn to admit anything that came from her was working for him.

It must be a coincidence. He probably fell asleep again because he was exhausted from being mad at her all day.

“I know Mr. Barnes doesn’t need it. It’s for me.” She lied as well. She knew lying wasn’t good girl like but she was helping Mr. Barnes; it was for good reason.

~

“Mr. Barnes,” her small voice called to him but Bucky was ignoring her.

He was pretending he couldn’t hear her and continued staring at the TV because she talked too much for his liking.

“Mr. Barnes.” She ever so lightly touched Bucky’s arm.

“What!” he spit suddenly, making her jump.

“We— We need to go shopping. Mrs. Morrison will visit tomorrow.”

She knew the process and for some reason didn’t want to be taken away from Bucky.

If Mrs. Morrison came and saw the way the apartment was or the way Bucky treated Doll, she was definitely going to make her leave with her.

“What?!”

“It’s day five.” She reminded, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah, so?” Bucky’s body fully turned to face her.

“Tomorrow’s visit day. We have to go shopping.”

“How do I know you’re not lying just to get me to buy you things?”

“I don’t lie, Mr. Barnes.” She assured him, looking hurt at even the suggestion.

“It’s in the papers,” she told him, referring to the contract he’s signed as well as the guide he was provided with her file before leaving the institution.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, but stood up to look at the papers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer in the kitchen a few days ago.

“Shit,” he muttered when he saw she wasn’t lying. He heard her whisper bad word but chose to ignore it.

There were scheduled visits listed with different time intervals between each visit for the next three months.

Bucky groaned, throwing the paper sheet back in the drawer and slamming it shut.

“Put your clothes on, we’re going fucking shopping.”

“Bad word.”

“Don’t even—” she ran to the bathroom to change before Bucky could get angrier.

What has Sam gotten him into?

~

“Why’s your hair so messy!” Bucky asked, shoving her out of his way to grab a jar of peanut butter and put in the cart.

“I don’t know how to do it on my own an’ Mr. Barnes kept telling me to hurry up.”

Her voice was so small and if Bucky wasn’t so infuriated by the situation he would’ve felt bad for how he spoke to her.

“You’d think you’d actually look decent enough after taking forever to get ready.” Bucky huffed.

She remained silent, looking down and closing in on herself.

“Do you eat this?” Bucky asked, waving a box of corn flakes in front of her.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky nodded, throwing the box in the cart.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop saying my name so much?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barn—” Bucky’s cold stare stopped the word on her tongue.

“Call me Bucky.”

He didn’t want her to call him Bucky. But if that Mrs. Morrison was visiting tomorrow she couldn’t know he made her speak to him formally.

“Bucky?”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Bucky.” She smiled shyly, feeling one step closer to the man.

Bucky didn’t know his life would turn upside down so fast.

He never cared about grocery shopping because he didn’t need that much stuff and he mostly ate at restaurants or diners or bought take out. He mainly just had beer filling his fridge.

But with her tied to him now he was buying all kinds of food: fresh vegetables and fruits, juice boxes, snack bars and way too many Oreos. Not to mention the toiletries he had to pay for because aside from her tooth and hair brushes, she came with nothing.

“Bucky, can we please get this?” she asked, pointing to a stuffed white wolf.

“No, you already have one at home. I see it every night.”

“Please, Bucky, please. Pretty please,” she begged, giving puppy eyes and pressing her palms together even.

“Okay, fine, shut up. God!” Bucky grumpily put the toy in the cart and got them to the nearest cashier before she could pick anything else.

She was so happy and was going to cherish her new stuffie more than ever.

~

Bucky was pacing back and forth in the living room. He needed to find a way to convince her not to tell Mrs. Morrison or whatever her name was how he treated her.

He didn’t want her to know she had any type of power over him because of the situation.

Bucky definitely wasn’t going to say please, but he also knew he couldn’t scare her into saying what he wanted.

“Bucky, please go to bed. Wolfie can’t sleep.” She whined, hugging her newest stuffie to her heart.

Bucky gave her yet another hard glare. She made him so angry that sometimes he forgot how to function. She was so spoiled and oblivious.

“I won’t say anything to Mrs. Morrison,” she whispered.

“You think I care what you have to say?! They could take you right now for all I care!” Bucky replied angrily.

“I know…” she mumbled, “I don’t want them to.”

Her words left Bucky without a reply. He was confused. She didn’t want to leave? Why not? Bucky hasn’t said one kind word to her since she’s been entrusted to him.

Was she some type of masochist?

“I wanna stay with Bucky. Sing him lullabies and eat noodles with him,” she said, her voice soft and heavy with sleep, before her eyes shut as she drifted off.

Her words put Bucky at ease for now and he got on the floor to finally try to get some sleep. He tried to ignore the way they affected him though.

~

“Bucky,” she called gently.

“Hmm.”

“I need to shower,” came her timid whisper.

“Do you see me using the bathroom?! Help yourself.” Bucky huffed, stirring the sugar in his mug.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?!” he snapped, throwing the spoon in the sink.

“I need Bucky’s help.” Her face was on fire with embarrassment of having to say this out loud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing his mug aside before grabbing her arm and pushing her to the bathroom.

She whimpered as they stood before the glass door of the shower.

“This, because you’re not stupid you’re just age regressed, opens the hot water.” Bucky pointed to the tap handle on the right. “This opens the cold water. And this—”

“Bucky, that’s not what I need help with.” She shook her head, biting down on her lip.

“What do you want from me then?!” Bucky had no patience and her bashfulness wasn’t helping.

She raised her arms up before whispering, “I need Bucky to gimme a shower.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Bad word.”

“Don’t start now! You don’t know how to shower?!”

She shook her head, pouting as her eyes got teary again, “not when little.”

“This is bullshit. I didn’t even wanna do this. Damn you, Sam Wilson!” Bucky said, walking out of the bathroom angrily as she trailed behind him like the lost puppy she was.

“Bad word.”

“Stop!” Bucky boomed and she put her hands behind her back timidly.

“Please, Bucky,” she begged, getting hold of his hand.

“No! On my dead body!”

~

“Stand straight or I swear I’m gonna leave you here and go!”

“Yes, Bucky,” she giggled, the water trickling down her spine tickling her.

“Now what?” He huffed, trying not to stare at her naked chest.

“Now, this.” She held up the bottle of conditioner for him and Bucky sighed before taking it and squeezing some on his hand.

He was about to smooth it down her scalp when she moved away.

“No, no! This goes on the ends or else it gives you dandruff,” She said and Bucky would’ve facepalmed so hard if it wasn’t for the slippery matter covering his palms.

This was going to be long.

~

She was fast asleep on Bucky’s couch after her shower, so peaceful and without a care in the world.

Bucky envied her as he got in place on the floor. He really wished he had enough flexibility in him to accept help and care from someone.

But no, he didn't need her. He didn't need any of this. He just had to go through tomorrow and the rest will figure itself out.

Yeah, yeah just tomorrow for now, Bucky thought as he drifted off.

part II

~

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[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost | B.Barnes [Completed]

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: canon typical violence (blood, guns, combat, etc.), canon divergence, meanness against each other (at the start & that one scene™), emotional constipation! (on both sides. they both need therapy lbr), poorly translated russian prolly, soulmate vibes (not really?), r has bucky at knifepoint quite often (& threatens to kill him), bucky's kink unlocked? (not explored lol), down bad!bucky, r has a backstory, mentions of: past traumas, grooming (no specific ages but it's implied that r was very young), manipulation, experimentation, child trafficking, torture, murder (u know hydra tings), a sweet, happy and open ending (+ if i missed anything pls let me know!)

》 TOTAL WORD COUNT: 29k+ (my longest fic yet)

A/N: i actually started this a year ago??? (according to my doc) which is crazy to me?? bc it feels like i only had this idea for months? where has the time gone. ANYWAYS. first behemoth bucky fic & first fic in a few months so pls be kind ksksks

++ also would like to say that r in this isn't the usual happy-go-lucky, sweet, emotionally capable, sunshine-y person compared to what i typically write but she has her reasons. cold & hardened but mushy on the inside. u know. like our fave supersoldier. they're honestly the same person just different fonts lmao. ANYWAYS,

++ additional note: tumblr has a limit of only 1000 paragraphs (or text block so to speak). the fic itself is 1300 paragraphs so it's waay over the limit. so i decided to cut it into two parts BUT i also posted it on AO3 if you want to read it as a whole already. hope you guys still read and enjoy it! <3

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

PART ONE | PART TWO

or READ ON AO3

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary​​​​ and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2024 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[musings-of-a-rose]

For the "Leave the first sentence of a fic in my askbox" game:

I thought I knew what love was, but then I met him.

The Meaning of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word Count: 1026

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Life comes with expectations. Everyone told me to go to college, get a degree, find a nice man, get married, start a family, grow old together. I intended to do just that, sort of floating through life, not unhappy but not entirely happy either. Like I hadn’t found the exact fit. 

Then I met Jeremy and my life became brighter. We met my senior year of college, literally bumping into each other in the bookstore on campus. He’d spilled coffee all down my front and I laughed, as I’d had to change my shirt earlier that day for doing the exact same thing to myself. He was studying business, his days spent mostly in the library with his nose buried in books or online, trying to keep up with the latest business trends. I was majoring in elementary education with a minor in creative writing, so I definitely spent my fair share in the library too. 

Wherever we went, we had a good time. Jeremy was respectful and kind to me, always making sure I ate, knowing that often I’d forget to. We were together about 6 months before confessing our love for one another, and at a year, he asked me to move in with him. We were well on our way to finishing the typical expectations. Everyone kept asking me if he’d popped the question or when he was going to put a ring on it. We talked about marriage and it was something we were both interested in. It was the normal flow of life.

What no one expected was for me to suddenly gain powers, become what people call an inhuman. 

It happened randomly one day. I was out for a run when suddenly, I tripped. But instead of slamming my palms into the ground, it cracked beneath me, ripples of concrete fanning out from where my palms hovered above the ground. I scrambled back and landed on my ass, scooting backwards from the partially sunken sidewalk. My breath shaking, I look at my hands - not a mark on them. It was probably nothing. A coincidence. But what else could do this?

I called Jeremy as I walked home quickly, asking him what could have caused the sidewalk to crack like that. Of course he was quick to tell me to sue the county, that the sidewalk was dangerous and could’ve seriously injured me. That was just the way he was.

I got home and took a shower, letting the hot water cascade over my shoulders, willing them to relax as I looked down at my palms again. I was so focused on what I was doing, I didn’t hear Jeremy come in. When he touched my shoulder I jumped, my hands coming up to shield myself. But then Jeremy flew back against the door, his back nearly leaving an imprint in the shape of him. 

“I’m so sorry!” I started to cry, looking down at my palms and back at Jeremy. “I don’t know what’s happening to me!”

“Y-you did this?” He choked out, staring at me.

I nod. “I thought the sidewalk was random but this? I don’t…I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

He started to stand up and I took a step towards him, but he threw his hands up, fear flooding his eyes.

“Stay back!”

I stopped. “Jeremy? What..what do you mean?”

His hand scrambles for the door handle, hand scraping against the wood. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Jer..it’s me. I just..I don’t know what’s happening. I need help.” I take another step but he finds the handle and turns it, running out the door but not before he looks at me, fear and anger in his gaze.

“Get away from me, you freak!”

—----

That was 10 years ago. I never saw Jeremy again after that night and I rarely dated, never trusting anyone fully. If Jeremy could be so in love with me and leave me in an instant, how could I ever trust again?

I never went into teaching. No one wanted an inhuman teaching their kids. I did discover more about myself, what it meant to be an inhuman. Someone with powers. But I never trusted anyone. 

Then Clint Barton found me, alone and living in my car. He offered me his hand and told me to come with him, that I would be more than welcome at the Avenger compound. Unfortunately, people there still walked on eggshells around me, never sure if I’d “go off”. Then one day, a firm knock raps on my door and I answer it, breath catching in my throat at the most beautiful, troubled man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Bucky Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier.

He looked like he was bracing for the worst, for my eyes to go wide and to retreat back into my room. But it was very much the opposite, my curious eyes tracing down his metal arm and landing on the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Clint told me you needed training?”

“Oh. Uh I guess so?”

“Come on.”

Bucky trained me how to control my powers, using the skills he learned since getting rid of the brainwashing Hydra had put there. He taught me how to use my powers for my own self, using them to protect others. But he also taught me that in my solace, in others fear of me, fear of myself, of my own power, that I was not alone. He had been through the same thing and was still battling it himself. We eventually found ourselves pressed together, my legs and heart opening to accept him, all of him, as he whispered praises and love in my ear, our bodies melting together.

I thought I knew what love was, but then I met him. Bucky was the missing piece of my life that I had been waiting for. He sees me, loves me for me, isn’t afraid of me. And all of that love and adoration is reflected back at him through my eyes. I can’t imagine my life without him and I know I’ll follow him past the end of the line. 

—----

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[ficmeouttahere]

my brain has decided once again that a random actor i know nothing about is the love of our life and i fear there's no way to go but through

[pinkiebieberpie]

a…jealous Bucky mood board…? 👀

Thank you <3

thank you for the request, i hope you like it <33

jealous!bucky barnes

bucky moodboards

[leavemeslowly]

Bucky brainrot continues what means only one thing - I guess I need to write this Winter Soldier turned boxer with amnesia fic set in the 70s. Anyone interested in reading it?

[siennafrxst]

↳ a drunken night 𖤐𓈒࣪₊˚

(part 1)

pairing: sebastian stan x female reader

word count: 587 words

cw: fluff, slight angst(?)

“I’m not drunk, Y/N, I promise.”

“Ohh, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that to convince me.”

Sebastian was currently relying on Y/N’s shoulder, struggling to simply walk in a straight line.

“You’re right, there’s no hiding from you. Besides, we’ve known each other for almost 5 years now, haven’t we? You’re my bestest friend, you know?”

She grinned softly at her drunken friend, caressing his back. “That would’ve been really sweet if it weren’t for the slurriness in your words.”

He lightly chuckled at her statement, shrugging in agreement. “Isn’t that the most amazing-est part? That I’m able to say things like those even while I’m drunk?”

The smile never leaves her face as she sighs, slightly shaking her head. “Come on, Seb, let’s get you to bed.”

She gently grabs onto his hand and carefully guides him to the hotel bed. Fortunately, he obediently follows behind, although, still tripping over his own feet from time to time and making random comments about how handsome Evans looks.

Once she finally manages to tuck him in, she sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing the side of his arm. He smiles at her like a little child, causing a giggle to escape Y/N’s lips. “Good night, Seb.”

She gives his arm a little squeeze before standing up to leave, almost yelping when he suddenly pulls her hand, bringing her back to the bed even closer to him.

The two locked eyes, observing every little detail about the other. She could feel her cheeks burning up, getting lost in those grey eyes of his. A few precious moments have passed by, seconds feeling like hours of intimate staring before Sebastian broke the silence.

“I love you~” he cooed softly, which caused Y/N to sigh and let out some oxygen that she had been unknowingly holding back.

“I love you too. Now go to sleep, we’re going to get in trouble if we don’t get up in time.”

She was about to leave again when he had suddenly cut her off once more.

“No no no, not like that. I love you, Y/N, but as more than a friend. And no, don’t say ‘best friend’ because you know damn well what I mean. I love you.”

She freezes. Her heart paces faster. Her face drops in complete and utter shock. Did he mean that..?

For some reason, she could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes. And her heart fluttering from excitement yet drowning in disappointment. She was feeling all these mixed emotions all at once, her eyes darting back and forth from one eye to the other. No. He was drunk. If this was going to happen, it couldn’t happen in vain.

Sucking up her feelings, she sharply inhales and gulps, preparing the words she was going to say. “Seb, you’re drunk and you’re tired. Today was a long day, you need to rest. Just… look, tomorrow, you can tell me all of this again when you’ve sobered up, okay? Only if you really meant it.”

Sighing in slight disappointment, Sebastian slowly nods at her. “Okay. I will.”

“Now go get some rest.” She plants a soft yet lingering kiss on his forehead, his eyes closing at her touch. “Good night, Sebastian.”

She stands up from the bed once more, giving a little wave as he follows her with his eyes until she leaves his line of sight, the cold silence filling the lonely room.

Maybe he should’ve asked her to stay.

likes and reblogs are vv appreciated. <33

click here for chapter 2.

[pauls-mescal]

Sebastian Stan as Frank - Endings, Beginnings (2019)

For Ashe

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 16

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: ANGSTTYYYYY, swearing

A/N: here we areeee sorta lmao

Masterpost

Steve walked you up the steps to your apartment, the silence between you both heavy but not uncomfortable. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, casting a soft glow on the quiet street. You paused at the door, fumbling with your keys, when Steve broke the silence.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. His blue eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I mean, Bucky’s bound to come back sooner or later.”

You offered him a small, tired smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Steve. You’ve done enough for me tonight. This… this is something I need to figure out with him. Just the two of us.”

Steve hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m a big girl, remember? I can handle it.”

Steve sighed, then pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His warmth was grounding, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just exist in that safe space he always seemed to provide.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet promise. “No matter what.”

You squeezed him back, your heart aching with gratitude. “I’ll always be here for you too, Stevie. And… I’m sorry.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders, and gave you a small, sad smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a second, you couldn’t find the right response. You just nodded, your throat tightening. Steve leaned down and pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

With one last lingering glance, Steve turned and made his way down the steps, disappearing into the night. You watched until he was out of sight, the ache in your chest deepening. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the door, bracing yourself for what was to come.

As you closed the door behind you, you felt it—the subtle shift in the air, the unmistakable presence of someone else. Your heart jumped, and when you looked up, there he was.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly. His head snapped up the moment you walked in, his blue eyes locking onto yours. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Finally, Bucky broke the silence, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that sounded dangerously close to desperation. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightened, your hand gripping the strap of your bag like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Part of you screamed to say no, to protect what was left of your shattered heart. But another part—the one that had clung to him for so long, even when you shouldn’t have—was too tired to keep running.

You nodded stiffly, your voice barely audible. “Yeah. We can talk.”

The tension in the room was unbearable, the silence crackling with unspoken truths and jagged edges. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“You wanna sit?” he asked hesitantly, his voice soft, almost careful.

You shook your head, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “No. I’d rather stand.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you, his eyes stormy and unsteady. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost raw.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and humorless. “Well, there’s a lot to unpack, Buck,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion.

He flinched, but nodded again. “I know,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all was finally dragging him down.

The silence between you stretched out, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the words bubbling up, the frustration, the hurt—it was too much to hold in any longer.

“You had no right,” you said suddenly, your voice slicing through the stillness.

His head snapped up, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

“You had no right to tell me about Steve,” you snapped, your tone biting. “That wasn’t yours to share! I can’t believe you’d do that to him—to me! He’s your best friend too Bucky!”

He recoiled, his jaw tightening as his face crumpled in guilt. “I—”

But you weren’t done. “And you had no right to punch Dean, no matter how you felt about him. Or to make those snarky little comments about me not being able to handle a real date. What the hell is wrong with you, Bucky? And for what? Why?”

Bucky looked at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. He opened his mouth, but it was clear he was struggling to find the words. Finally, his shoulders sagged, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “You’re absolutely right.”

You blinked, not expecting his immediate agreement. The anger bubbling in your chest faltered, leaving behind a hollow ache.

“I had no right to any of it,” he continued, his voice rough and remorseful. “Not to tell you about Steve, not to hit Dean, not to say those things to you. I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I’ve been an asshole to you, and I know it. I know that. And I’m sorry.”

The words sounded genuine, but they weren’t enough to soothe the pain in your chest. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Bucky,” you said, your voice trembling. “Sorry doesn’t undo everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking again. “I know it doesn’t. And I know it probably never will be enough. But I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know why I say the things I say, why I push you away and pull you back, over and over again. I don’t know why I—” His voice broke, and he took a deep, unsteady breath. “I just know that I can’t lose you. I can’t. Not as a friend. Not as anything. I can’t, I won’t live a life without you in it… a part of it.”

Your heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but it only fueled your frustration. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the victim here, Bucky!” you snapped, your tears finally spilling over. “You’ve hurt me so many times—more times than I can count. Do you even realize what you’ve done? How much you’ve hurt me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I realize it every fucking day.” Bucky’s voice is low, rough, as he takes a step closer, his fists clenching at his sides. His blue eyes blaze with frustration, pain, and something deeper—something raw and unfiltered. “But, what about me?” he snaps, his voice trembling. “What did you think those moments meant to me? When I would try and try and try to break through those walls you had up? You think that was easy? It wasn’t.”

Your breath catches, and you take a step back, but he follows, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting. “Every time I tried to get close, every time I put myself out there, you’d shut me down. You’d give me that look, and then you’d fuck off like none of it mattered. Do you think it was easy for me? It wasn’t.” His voice cracks slightly, but he powers through. “You’re acting like this is all my fault, but it’s not. This is a two-way street, sweetheart.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the walls pressing tighter with every word, the air thick and suffocating. Bucky’s voice reverberates in the charged silence, raw with an intensity that shakes you to your core.

Your voice trembles as you finally manage to speak, your words slipping out, shaky and sharp. “Do you blame me? That night in college—we dove headfirst into it! Y-you never even tried to talk to me about it after. What was I supposed to think? To feel?!” You pause, your voice breaking. “You had a reputation, Bucky! What was I supposed to believe?”

His face twists, a mixture of frustration and pain that spills over in his words. “We’re going back to that night again, huh?” he growls, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his movements restless, his fists clenching at his sides. “Fine. Let’s remember.”

He turns to you suddenly, his voice rising, cracking under the weight of the emotions he’s been carrying for years. “You left me that night! I never left you! You walked out on us, on the possibility of something real, and you didn’t even look back. You assumed!” His voice breaks on the word, loud and desperate as it ricochets off the walls. “Because you always fucking assume! You never stopped to think about what it meant for me—what it actually meant for me—that night. You leaving…”

His pacing stops abruptly as he runs both hands down his face, dragging his palms over his stubble like he’s trying to hold himself together. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged. “What about me?” he asks, his voice cracking, and for the first time, he looks at you like he’s completely unraveling. “What about me?”

Your breath hitches, and the tears that have been burning at the corners of your eyes finally spill over. You don’t even try to stop them as you glare at him through the blur of your tears. “You never clarified anything to me, Bucky!” Your voice is trembling but sharp, slicing through the tension. “You just let those rumors float around! And even after we had sex, you never stopped them! You still went out with girls, you still slept with them! And you wanted me to just… somehow know that it actually meant something to you?!”

Bucky’s jaw tightens as your words hit him like a physical blow. His hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists. “Of course you should have known!” he yells, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s YOU! For god’s sake, it’s you! You’re not just anyone, and after all these years, all this time, how could you think of me like that? How could you not see it?”

His breathing is erratic, his blue eyes boring into yours, raw and pleading. “And for the record,” he says, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost broken tone, “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

You shake your head, your disbelief immediate and sharp. “That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you.”

Bucky lets out a bitter, humorless laugh that slices through you. “Of course you don’t. You never do apparently! But you believe everybody else, don’t you?” He takes a step closer, his voice rising again, full of pain and accusation. “Everyone except your best friend. You’ve known me since we were five, and you still think I’m lying?”

Your voice shakes, your anger breaking through your tears. “Fuck you,” you snap, your words trembling with both fury and heartbreak. “That was over two years ago! Don’t stand here and tell me you haven’t slept with anyone in two years, Bucky!”

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he lifts his right hand, his fingers splaying out. “I’ve got a hand, don’t I?”

The bluntness of his words stuns you into silence for a moment. The room feels impossibly small as his voice drops, quiet but raw with emotion. He takes a hesitant step closer, his blue eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t think I’ve tried?” he asks, his voice breaking on the words. “I’ve tried! I tried with Kate. I’ve tried with others. But I just can’t.” His hands fall to his sides, his voice rising with desperation. “Because it feels wrong without you. Everything feels wrong without you.”

His confession hangs in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating, and you’re left standing there, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to burst. The vulnerability in his voice, in his posture, is devastating. You’ve never seen him like this—so unguarded, so exposed—and it cuts deeper than you thought possible.

And for a moment, the world seems to stand still.

Summer before senior year

The sun was casting a soft, golden glow over the quiet neighborhood as Bucky finally reached your house. His chest heaved with exertion, and his knuckles were bruised and bleeding, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was finding you.

The house was eerily silent as he approached. He pounded on the door, his heart in his throat. He called your name, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s me. Please… are you here?”

No answer.

Bucky clenched his fists, the pain in his knuckles grounding him as panic threatened to take over. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the windows, the driveway, any sign that you might be home. He was about to start circling the house when he noticed movement down the street.

It was you.

You were walking slowly, your arms wrapped around yourself, your head down. Even from a distance, Bucky could see the way your shoulders were hunched, like you were carrying the weight of the world. His heart broke at the sight.

He called your name, jogging toward you. The sound of his voice made you stop in your tracks, but you didn’t look up. He reached you within seconds, skidding to a halt a few feet away. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.

You lifted your head, your tear-streaked face cutting him like a knife. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

He took a cautious step closer, his hands raised slightly as if approaching a wounded animal. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said softly. “Steve told me… he told me what happened.”

Your lip quivered, and you quickly looked away. “You didn’t have to come, i didn't ask you too…” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Yes, I did,” Bucky said firmly. “I did because…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because I care about you, You’re my best friend. And I’m sorry for telling you that you couldn't come to me, for making you feel that way, I’m sorry for everything.”

Your eyes finally met his, and he saw the anger and hurt swirling within them. “You were right, though,” you said, your voice breaking. “Mike didn’t care about me. He didn’t even want to stay.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I feel like this is my fault. Like… like maybe if I’d told you about Carley, if I’d been honest with you from the start, you wouldn’t have felt like you had something to prove.”

You blinked, startled. “What does Carley have to do with this?”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I never told you about her because I was ashamed. I wasn’t ready for… any of it, but I did it anyway because I felt like I had to. Everyone else was moving on, and I thought I should too.”

He paused, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you rarely saw. “But it wasn’t what I thought it would be. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like it thought it should’ve. And I hate that you had to go through that with Mike. That it wasn’t… that it wasn’t what it should’ve been for you either.”

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you deserve to know,” Bucky said quietly. “And because I never want you to feel like you have to settle for less than you deserve.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he asked, “Can you forgive me?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. Bucky froze for a moment before his arms came around you, holding you tightly as if he could somehow piece you back together.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered into his chest. “For everything, i never wanna lose you Buck”

Bucky rested his chin on top of your head, his eyes closing as he held you. “We’ll be okay, we’ll always be okay, its us”

“I have loved you since we were kids,” Bucky’s voice broke, his words raw and desperate, the kind that claw their way out of a person when they’ve been buried too long. He stepped closer, his hands trembling at his sides, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “How could you not see it? How could you not feel it?”

His voice rose, cracking under the weight of his emotions, and his fists clenched as if trying to hold himself together. “I love you. I have always loved you. I LOVE YOU!” The words ripped from him like they’d been burning a hole in his chest for years, finally too powerful to contain.

His shoulders sagged, and his breath hitched as he continued, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Every time, every single time—you needed something, you called me, and I came running. I dropped everything for you. Everything. Even when you didn’t ask, I was there. I chose you, over and over again. And every damn time, you never saw it.”

His gaze locked onto yours, his anguish laid bare. “I’ve spent years waiting, hoping you’d notice. Hoping you’d see me—not just as your friend, but as the guy who would do anything, be anything, just to make you happy. But you didn’t. Or maybe you did, and you didn’t care. Either way, it’s been tearing me apart.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the silence crackling with tension as he stood there, breathing hard, his raw confession filling the space between you. For the first time, Bucky Barnes wasn’t just your best friend—he was a man who had reached his breaking point, stripped of every defense, standing exposed in front of you, waiting for you to either put him back together or shatter him completely.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as tears streaked down your face. “No. No, you don’t get to say that now. You can’t just say that now.” Your voice cracked, raw with the weight of everything you’d held inside for years. You wiped at your tears with trembling hands, frustration bubbling over. “It wasn’t obvious, Bucky! Maybe in your goddamn head it was, but not to me!”

Your voice rose, trembling with anger and heartbreak. “How could it have been? You were always with someone else, or talking about another girl. Every time I started to think, maybe—maybe—this isn’t just in my head, you’d do something to prove me wrong. You’d flirt with someone else. You’d talk about someone else.” You gesture wildly, your emotions spilling out uncontrollably now. “And you expect me to believe that this—that we—was obvious?”

Bucky flinched, his eyes wide, but you pushed forward, unable to stop yourself. “We had moments, Bucky. God, so many moments where I thought maybe… maybe. But you never did anything. You never said anything. You just left me sitting there, waiting—wondering if I was crazy for even hoping.” Your voice cracked, and your hands fell limply to your sides. “You never tried. You never did a damn thing. And now you stand here, years later, telling me this? Now?”

You could see the pain etched across his face, the regret in his eyes, but it didn’t dull the ache in your chest. “It’s been years, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Years of me wondering if I was imagining it all. And you just… let me.”

The air between you and Bucky was suffocating, heavy with years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, every word exchanged cutting deeper than the last. The living room, once a safe space, now felt like a battleground where the ghosts of your past circled, waiting for the final blow.

Bucky’s chest heaved as he stared at you, his blue eyes glassy, his face etched with frustration and heartbreak. “You think I didn’t try?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “You think I didn’t want to make a move? I didn’t do it because I was scared! Scared of ruining the one good thing in my life! I couldn’t risk losing you, so yeah, I kept my mouth shut and buried how I felt.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his words. “You didn’t just bury it, Bucky. You locked it away and threw the key at my feet. You made me feel like I was imagining everything! And all the while, you were running off with other girls like it didn’t mean a damn thing.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t back down. “You think it was easy for me? Watching you look at me like I was just another guy, like I didn’t matter? God, every time you’d laugh with Steve or go on about some asshole, it killed me! And yet, I stayed. I stayed because you needed me, and I thought that was enough. But it wasn’t.” His voice cracked again, and he wiped a hand down his face. “I needed you, too.”

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, hot and stinging as they trailed down your cheeks. “If you needed me so badly, then why did you let me walk away? Why didn’t you come after me, Bucky? I gave you every chance, and you still—” Your voice broke, and you turned away, unable to face him.

Bucky’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his voice hoarse. “Because you looked at me like I was nothing that night. Like everything we’d built, everything we could’ve had, didn’t matter to you. Do you know what that did to me? You left me, and I—I didn’t know how to fight for you when you didn’t want to be fought for.”

You spun back around, your eyes blazing. “You don’t get to put this all on me! You broke my heart before I even knew what it meant to love someone! You made me feel like I was never enough, like I was some backup plan while you figured out your life. And now, now you want to stand here and tell me you’ve loved me all along? No. That’s not fair, Bucky.”

He took a step closer, his voice trembling. “I’m not asking for fair. I’m asking for real. I’m telling you now because I can’t hold it in anymore. I’ve carried this for years, and it’s tearing me apart.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, stretched to its limit. Bucky’s face was a canvas of raw emotion—anger, sadness, longing. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, I will always love you” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t show it the way you needed. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I didn’t love you with everything I had, with everything I could”

You shook your head, your body trembling. “And what am I supposed to do with that now, Bucky? After everything? After all the pain, all the missed chances?”

He stepped closer again, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You say I never made a move? Well, here it is. I’m laying it all out. I love you, im so in love with you! and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. But if you don’t feel the same—if you can’t—then tell me, and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave, for good this time.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the weight of his confession crushing you. You looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for clarity, but all you found was the same broken boy you’d loved for years. The one you’d always loved.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged, his face falling as if the weight of your words had physically struck him. He nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, leaving you suspended in a free fall with no end in sight.

Finally, you turned away, your voice breaking as you said, “I need time, I just need a minute..”

Bucky didn’t stop you. He didn’t call after you or try to pull you back. He simply stood there, watching as you walked out of the room, his heart shattering with every step you took.

The streets felt endless as you walked, the cool night air biting at your skin but doing nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. The echoes of Bucky’s voice still rang in your ears, his confession, his anger—it all felt too big to hold. You didn’t know where else to go, so your feet carried you to the one place that always felt like a refuge.

Natasha and Wanda’s apartment.

You didn’t knock. Your hands were shaking too much to even try. Instead, you turned the handle and stepped inside, your breath hitching as you fought to hold yourself together.

Wanda was the first to notice you. She stood in the living room, wrapped in a soft blanket, her fingers curled around a mug of tea. Her face softened the moment she saw you, her expression filled with concern. “Oh, babe,” she said gently, setting the mug down and crossing the room to you. “Come here.”

You nodded wordlessly, letting her guide you inside. Your coat hung limp in your hand, and your shoes scraped against the floor as you kicked them off.

Natasha appeared from the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. Her sharp green eyes flicked over you, taking in the tear-streaked face, the uneven breaths, and the raw emotion clinging to you like a second skin. She didn’t say anything right away, just gestured toward the couch.

You sank into the cushions, your heart hammering. The silence was heavy, and when the words finally came, they spilled out of you like a broken dam.

“I talked to Bucky,” you choked out, your voice unsteady. “We fought. He told me he loves me. That he’s always loved me.”

Wanda perched beside you, her hand gently squeezing your knee. She didn’t say anything, just offered silent support. Natasha, however, stood in front of you, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silence was unnerving, her face unreadable.

“And now?” Natasha asked, her tone quiet but carrying an edge. “Why are you here crying?”

Her question hit like a slap, cutting through the haze of your thoughts. You blinked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Natasha took a deliberate sip of her wine, her gaze steady and unnerving. “I mean, why are you here? Why aren’t you there? With him?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, you stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. “Because…” you stammered, shaking your head. “After everything? After everything he’s done, you’ve always told me not to run back to him.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she set her glass down with a sharp clink. “Yes. After everything.”

You stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, frustration bubbled up. “Why aren’t you on my side right now?” you demanded, your voice cracking.

Natasha sighed, rubbing her temple as if this conversation was physically draining her. “Because, for once, he finally said it. He said what you’ve been waiting to hear for years.”

Wanda’s hand stayed steady on your knee, but she looked at Natasha with quiet curiosity. Natasha’s tone wasn’t just sharp—it was laced with something else, something deeper.

“If this is what you’ve always wanted,” Natasha continued, her voice rising slightly, “and he’s there, telling you he loves you, why the hell are you here? Why are you sitting on my couch crying about it?”

The words felt like they knocked the wind out of you. You tried to speak, to justify your actions, but nothing came.

“Let me make this clear,” Natasha pressed on, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “At least the person you love actually loves you back.”

Your heart stopped. “Nat…” you started, your voice weak. “What are you talking about?”

Natasha’s eyes flashed, her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack. “God, you’re so blind,” she snapped, the words biting. “I’ve been in love with Steve for years.”

The air left the room. “What?” you whispered, the disbelief in your voice evident.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah. And Steve’s been in love with you for just as long. And while you’ve been chasing after Bucky, Steve’s been stuck watching it all, pining after someone he’ll never have. It’s a fucking circle of misery, and I’m tired of watching it.”

Her words felt like daggers. “I didn’t know,” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know, Nat.”

“Of course you didn’t!” Natasha snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Because you’ve always been so wrapped up in your own little world. I’m not saying you’re a bad friend—you’re not. You’re one of my best friends. But God, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, the anger giving way to exhaustion. She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need your apology. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this because you need to get your shit together. You need to stop wasting time. Steve, he needs to let you go and Bucky…”

Her eyes bore into yours, the weight of her words impossible to ignore. “He loves you,” she said softly, her tone shifting. “And you love him. So what the hell are you doing here?”

The silence hung heavy between you, the gravity of everything sinking in. Finally, Natasha sighed and gestured toward the door. “Get out of my house. Go back to yours. Go see Bucky.”

You hesitated, glancing at Wanda for reassurance. Wanda gave you a small, supportive smile. “She’s right,” Wanda said softly. “You know she is.”

Natasha crossed her arms again, her expression softening just slightly. “Go,” she repeated. “Before I lose my patience and drag you out myself.”

You nodded slowly, standing and grabbing your coat. As you reached the door, you turned back, your voice trembling. “Thank you…”

Natasha gave you a small, tight smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just… go fix it. Go be together, finally… please.”

You stepped out into the cold night air, your heart pounding as you walked back toward your apartment, Natasha’s words echoing in your head.

He loves you. You love him. So what the hell are you doing here?

[amasterpieceofmadness]

there for you – bucky b.

pairings Bucky Barnes x reader

summary You are feeling down lately and Bucky seems to catch up on that. He is worried about you and tries to comfort you. As you find out, all you needed was a big hug (and some kisses) from Bucky

wordcount 2.2k

warnings fluff, little bit of anxiety, crying, hugs and kisses, confessions

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

You sigh, trying to shut the annoying high-pitched tone of your alarm clock out by burying your face into the pillow. It feels like you just fell asleep a couple of minutes ago, and in reality, it wasn’t much more, as you already need to get up again. A sigh leaves your mouth once again as you turn around and finally switch off the alarm clock. You are really considering if you should get up but you know Cap is going to hold you a lecture if you miss training one more time. So, finally you get up from your comfy bed and start to get ready with as less effort as needed.

As you walk towards the kitchen to get your cup of coffee before training you zone out. You’ve been distant lately, constantly thinking about stuff that’s worrying you and plaguing your mind. There’s no way to shut it off though, you tried a couple of times already.

So, you walk into the kitchen and greet everyone there with a simple “morning”, before pouring yourself a cup of hot coffee. You don’t bother to talk with someone, you don’t even have the energy to do that right now.

“Everything okay?” your friend Natasha walks up to you concerned.

You simply nod, taking a large sip of coffee. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well”

Nat doesn’t ask further but she doesn’t believe you either. Neither does the rest of the Avengers, or Bucky. He sits at the table, drinking his own coffee and watching you silently, concern on his face. He noticed your change in behavior and his worry for you is growing stronger by day. He doesn’t want to talk to you in front of all the others so he just lets it be for now.

Steve enters the room “Good morning, ready for our training session?” His eyes land on you and he smiles softly. “Hey, good to see you here again. Let’s get it on!”

Everyone nods and together you walk off to the training room, preparing for an upcoming mission. You try your best to stay focused, and it works rather well. Bucky keeps a close look at you but also keeps his distance. You catch him staring a few times, but try to ignore it, even though your cheeks turn slightly red.

As soon as the training is finished the thoughts come back flooding to your mind. You walk back to your room to get a shower, trying to free your mind. Suddenly you hear a knock at your door. You walk over and open it, setting on a small fake smile.

“Hey” Bucky flashes you a soft smile, leaning against your door frame. He looks you up from top to bottom, noticing your comfy clothes and still wet hair. “Did I disturb you?”

“No, don’t worry. How can I help you?” You ask as casual as possible, crossing your arms in front of your body.

Bucky takes a deep breath, his hands in his pockets. “I just… Actually, I… I just wanted to check in on you. You alright?”

To say you are surprised is an understatement. You never expected him to ask such a question but somehow you feel a strange warmth inside of you at his care. “Uhm, yeah, yeah, I’m alright. Why do you ask?” You let out a soft chuckle.

The super soldier shrugs a little and scratches his head. “You just seem a bit distant lately. So I thought maybe… maybe something is off” He looks so cute like this, standing in front of your door. This is a side of Bucky not many get to see.

“Oh, don’t worry. I just… I didn’t sleep well for a couple of days. But everything’s fine” You smile softly at him to reassure him.

Bucky thinks about your answer for a couple of minutes, not sure whether he should believe you or not. Finally, he decides that there’s no need to push you so he lets it down and nods, looking down. “Alright” he sighs and looks back up at you. “Alright. Just… You know, I’m here if you need anything. Okay?”

As you look at him you can’t help but crack a small, sincere smile. This is definitely something you never expected from anyone, nor him. You can feel warmth spreading inside you and you are almost tempted to ask for a hug. But you quickly shake that thought off of your head. “Thanks, Bucky”

With another smile and wave of his hand Bucky leaves you to yourself again and you close the door of your room. But the smile quickly fades as the thoughts come back to you mind, drowning you. With a sigh you let yourself onto the bed.

A couple of days like this pass and Bucky gets more worried about you. One evening he catches you in the compound living room. He walks inside and notices you standing by the window all in the dark. Bucky doesn’t even bother to turn on the lights.

“Hey” he greets with a calm and soft voice.

You jump slightly, deep in thought, as you turn around surprised to see Bucky standing there, leaning against a counter. “Hey”

“It’s late” Bucky states simply, glancing at the clock and then back at you. It’s almost midnight.

“Yeah, true” my response is just as simple. “What are you doing up?”

Bucky shrugs and gives you a small smirk. “Always been a night owl”

You give him a slight smile in return and glance back out the window, taking a deep breath.

After a few minutes of silence Bucky is the first one to speak up again. “What’s on your mind?”

With raised eyebrows you look at him, but as soon as you see his concerned and serious expression you know there is no way to lie to him. You sigh before finally responding “A lot”

Bucky nods understandingly. If anyone can understand what it’s like to have a heavy mind it’s him after all. And he understands that you might not want to talk about it, or, that you probably don’t even know what you should talk about. So, he doesn’t put too much pressure on you there. “I meant what I said”

Once again you give him a confused look, not knowing what he means right now.

Bucky seems to notice your uncertainty and explains himself further. “What I told you a couple of days ago in your room. That I’m here for your” His look is serious, leaving no hint of joke. He really means it.

And as much as you appreciate this act and as much as you want to thank him and give him a smile, you can’t. All you are trying is to not break in front of him, to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall down your cheeks. You don’t answer him, instead you just look down onto the floor, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t dare to look at him, knowing that it might be too much.

He just stands there, watching your reaction. Bucky decides on what to do and finally speaks up again, his voice ever so soft and caring. “Come here”

You look up to meet Bucky’s eyes, his arms wide open for you to fall into them and let him hug you. For a second you don’t know what you should do. But your feet are bringing you closer to him and finally you stand right in front of him. Slowly you let your arms sink and his loving look is just making it worse for you to contain yourself.

After a minute of just looking at each other you find yourself in his embrace. His arms are tightly wrapped around you, holding you close. Your head resting against his bulky chest, your own arms wrapped around his middle. Tears fall down your cheeks silently, wetting his shirt. But Bucky doesn’t care. All he cares for right now is you in his arms. He doesn’t care whether is shirt is getting damp or not, or if he feels slightly uncomfortable being so close to someone. He wants to be there for you, to give you comfort and reassurance. He wants you to feel better, to know that someone is there for you when you are feeling down. And that is exactly what he is doing right now.

Bucky’s hands are softly stroking your back up and down, his chin resting on your head. He can smell your sweet scent and one of his hands finds its way up to your hair, pressing you closer to him. A strange warmth fills him as he holds you like this.

You on the other hand feel yourself calming down after some time. You feel safe and secure and it seems that a hug is all you needed for the last couple of days. Your body starts to relax in his embrace and your tears have almost stopped. But is it really just the hug that makes you feel at ease again, or is it the person who gives you that hug? His strong arms wrapped tightly around you, holding and caressing you, his soft breathing calming and hearing his heartbeat giving you reassurance.

Bucky had closed his eyes by now, just feeling you in his arms, feeling your muscles starting to relax. And it makes him happy that he is the reason why you calmed down a little. He is proud of himself that he could help you and he is not planning on letting you go anytime soon. He wants to stay like this forever, starting to feel comfortable in this position. He should have done this a lot earlier, when he visited you in your room for example. It would have made you and him feel better.

You two stand there for a while, holding each other close. You pull away slightly, not sure when to let go or if Bucky is still comfortable holding you. Your arms are still around him as you look up at Bucky’s face. He looks down at you too and gives you a soft smile. One of his hands come up to your cheek and his thump wipes the last few tears away from your skin. “Feeling a bit better?”

Finally you give him a small smile back and nod. “A little… Thank you”

Bucky’s smile grows. He can’t help but think about how cute you look right now. “For you, always” How long can he deny the feelings he has for you? How long is he going to pretend that there is nothing between you two?

Your mind is spinning as well, your troubles forgotten for now. All you can think of right now is Bucky. The two of you stand there in the dark living room, holding each other, looking into each other’s eyes without saying a word. The moment is intimate and your heart starts to beat slightly faster.

Bucky is going to take the risk and leans slightly closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours to watch your reaction closely. As you don’t seem to mind him coming closer, he leans in even more, your faces only inches apart. You can feel his hot breath on your face and before you can think twice his lips meet yours. It’s surprisingly soft and sweet, something you would never think of a man like him. But His lips are tender and his movements gentle as if to not scare you away. He pulls away after a moment, his face still close to yours, as he looks at you intensely.

Your lips are slightly parted, your whole body frozen for a moment. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your breath caught in your throat. For a second Bucky is afraid he might have overstepped a line, but when he sees you smiling softly at him he returns it immediately. He leans closer again, wanting to kiss you again but not sure if he should. It’s your turn to close the gap between you and press your lips against his, kissing him with a bit more force than before.

Bucky’s hold on you tightens slightly as he leans into the kiss, trying to take in every second.

When you part again he leans his forehead against yours. The act is so small yet so sweet and you smile up at him. “Wow” is all he can say.

A soft chuckle leaves your lips before you respond “wow indeed”

He returns your chuckle. “I wanted to do that for a long time now”

At his words your heart is starting to beat faster once again, your hands wrapping tighter around him. “Me too” Your voice is barely a whisper but it’s loud enough for him to here.

“And I’ll always be there for you, okay? No matter what…” His words carry a seriousness you’ve never heard before. He means it and you can feel just how much he cares for you. But before you respond Bucky continues “I love you”

“I love you too”

And with that Bucky pecks your lips once again before wrapping you in a tight hug, not planning on letting you go ever again. Not that you mind, of course. You could stay forever in his arms, in this moment.

A/N Here is my complete masterlist with all the ff, imagines, oneshots, smut and whatever. Check it out and leave a like :)

[lewishamiltonstuff]

What is it with the men I stan (or used to) dating girls wayyyyy too young for them???!!

MAKE. IT. MAKE. SENSE.

[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [1] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 12.6k+

A/N: so, i decided to divide the fic into two just to give you guys the option to read it here as well since i feel like a lot of ppl are more comfortable with just reading it on tumblr sksksks but you also still do have the option to read it on AO3 if you want. will be posting part 2 tomorrow around the same time. it will be linked at the end. i hope you enjoy!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some said first impressions have a lasting impact, that it might even be a crucial pillar of any relationship. Others would vouch that it could be a bit misleading, that everybody deserves a second chance, that getting to know someone on a deeper level was far more important. After all, people were good at pretending, wearing masks for different occasions, putting on a façade depending on who they were standing in front of.

Bucky's first impression of you was that you were downright rude.

You definitely were not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, a confident aura surrounding your graceful form as you entered the conference room. You definitely didn't capture his attention easily, didn't make his heart skip a couple of beats when he briefly caught your piercing gaze, eyes a beautiful shade that he wanted to look closer to see if there were any variations or they were as perfect and pure in color at first glance. You didn't make his breath nervously hitch when your head tilted ever so slightly, almost scrutinizingly as you studied him with your pretty lips pursed.

He definitely didn't linger there for a second or two, either.

Nope.

All he could think about was how cold and arrogant you seemed to be, head held high as Steve introduced you to the team one by one, settling for formal handshakes and a barely-there smile.

Bucky definitely was not thinking about how you were able to keep your features impassive yet stay so gorgeous in his eyes. He definitely wasn't intrigued about the slight gray of cautiousness tinting your irises, definitely not curious to know more of your quiet and reserved nature. He wasn'tat all itching to peel back your layers with such tenderness and care, to know more about you—light, darkness and demons alike.

Who knew lying to yourself could be so easy?

"And this is Bucky Barnes," Steve said, patting his shoulder, smiling excitedly for some reason he knew nothing of. "You know, the one I kept telling you about."

Bucky glared at his best friend curiously before turning to you, keeping a straight face as he held his hand out.

"I read your file."

That was Bucky's first words to you.

A second after they left his mouth, his stomach churned as he watched your face harden, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. You glanced at his outstretched hand, pointedly ignoring it as you crossed your arms over your chest. Chin up, you looked at him dead straight in the eyes, a certain fire flickering over yours, a brow raised in challenge.

You didn't say a word.

Bucky only got a curt nod before you turned back to Steve.

"My room?" you asked the blonde, features softening.

"Come on," Natasha interjected, nodding towards the door.

Bucky felt a sudden surge of jealousy at the cordial way you regarded the two. He felt envious when you returned Nat's grin with a small smile of your own as you followed her lead. It was faint enough to not be noticeable if you weren't particularly observant but definitely better than the scowl you wore when looking at him.

He ignored the way the redhead shot him a look over her shoulder as she guided you out of the conference room.

It was safe to say that as far as first impressions went, both of yours definitely weren't the best.

"What?" Bucky sighed when he caught the way his best friend was looking at him.

"Really?" Steve scolded, hands on his hips. "'I read your file' is not a conversation starter, Buck."

Fine. Maybe that wasn't the best—nor appropriate—thing to say to you first. But it was exactly because of that file that he was wary of you.

You were a spy, an assassin, trained in the Red Room only to get traded to HYDRA after some negotiations. They probably saw your potential—took you under their wing before you could even graduate so you didn't class as one of the Black Widows. Still, that didn't mean you didn't have the abilities of one, especially when you started young like most did. Now, adding the brutality and mercilessness HYDRA taught their killing machines?

You were one deadly mix.

The file said you were enhanced in some way. It didn't have the specifics as to what but it did state what wasn't. No superpowers, nothing magic-related, not even a case of superhuman abilities. But since these were organizations known for their hunger to experiment and enhance individuals, he had an inkling that you weren't just human, either.

Bucky didn't understand what level of consciousness you were in when you were doing their bidding. All he knew was that newer technology was involved, something to do with a microchip embedded on the back of your neck, connected right into your brain stem that any attempt at removing it carelessly would lead to your death.

He didn't know the extent of what that chip could do, didn't know if it was roughly the same as his programming where his mind was wiped and then controlled. It was possibly different yet similar—two sides of the same coin.

That part of the file was redacted, and Steve was adamant about staying quiet with that side of your story when asked. It was understandable, he supposed. It was nobody's place to tell but yours.

But judging from those alone, Bucky could guess it wasn't a lovely walk through the fields.

You were free from that now—thanks to Shuri, of course—but you could never be too cautious.

Just because Natasha saw you as a long lost sister, or how Steve was quick to trust you enough to escort you to Wakanda himself, and for both to vouch for you to join the team, didn't mean Bucky had to follow in their footsteps of plain blind faith.

It definitely had nothing to do with how nervous he suddenly got when you were standing right in front of him, or the way his heart picked up the pace when you were in the vicinity, let alone, glanced his way.

But with all the lies he'd been keen on feeding himself, Bucky had to admit, you were mesmerizingly and gorgeously terrifying.

There was just something about the way you carry yourself that even as simple as you walking down the hallway had everyone parting out of your way like the Red Sea.

Your reputation preceded you—Frost, a name most people feared to cross, belonging to a list of the most feared assassins who were still alive, of those who roamed free.

Whether that was second, equal, or better than The Winter Soldier…well, it depended on who you asked.

It somehow conjured this unspoken competition throughout the entire facility.

Who was more menacing?

Who was more skilled in hand-to-hand combat?

Who had the best death glare?

Who wielded the knife better?

Who had the better murder strut?

Who was the better assassin?

Who would win in a staring contest?

Who was grumpier, colder, the deadlier killer—The Winter or Frost?

Even the core Avengers team was silently in on it. The bets were mundane but they were there. An extra pizza slice, a dollar or two, who gets to go on the next coffee run, who gets to do whose laundry—they were thoroughly entertained by it.

Even Sam commented how you made Bucky's glare look like puppy eyes.

He honestly felt a little offended.

Probably because the truth sucked since, hell, even Bucky felt intimidated by you—in more ways than one.

Nobody intimidated him, not until you.

Bucky hated it.

If you asked his ego and pride, they'd tell you it was because the comparisons were insulting. He was the best in his field, he had decades of experience under his belt—he was a goddamn super soldier for crying out loud. A newbie, someone who didn't even reach half of what he'd been through, wasn't going to be better than him, even with similar skill sets.

But deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

If he were to truthfully answer those questions that circled the compound, he would be biased, subjective, completely and utterly infatuated because his answer was you.

In Bucky's rose-tinted eyes, you win anything because he would wholeheartedly give you everything.

That was another thing he was entirely terrified and intimidated by.

Never had he ever felt this strong pull before, an intrigue and need to be closer to someone, let alone someone he just met. It was new territory, something unfamiliar, especially in the last couple of decades.

Bucky hated not being able to understand what he was feeling, hated not being in control of the way his thoughts sprinted in all directions, fast and unrelenting to match the beating of his heart. He hated the way you made him feel a plethora of overwhelming yet warm emotions all from a simple look, a complicated concoction of admiration, fear, infatuation, lust and everything in between.

He hated the way you threw his whole world off its axis when he'd been doing good so far at gradually understanding his mind, his heart, his whole self.

Now, he was confused, terrified, captivated by you in so little time and he hated it.

And like Pavlov's dog and the Theory of Classical Conditioning—

Bucky hated you.

•••

As it turned out, you hated him too.

You weren't verbal about it for the first few months you lived in the compound. But then again, you had been keeping to yourself most of the time.

People barely saw you roaming around. You didn't sit with the team during meals, you even skipped over movie nights or any other 'team-bonding' exercise the rest came up with. The only other person who saw you more frequently than most was Natasha. But given that you two were floormates, that was to be expected.

Bucky would sometimes catch a glimpse of you in the gym during the early hours, dancing around punching bags like a graceful ballerina but with a forceful punch and kick that would rival the best and the greats—ruthless just like how you were trained to be.

It was the same time he usually went down, hoping to let off steam when he couldn't shake a particular nightmare. But when you got there first, he opted to go for an early run outside instead, giving you the space to yourself.

He had a feeling you needed it more.

Other than that, you were like a ghost in the compound. There was no physical evidence or any lingering traces of you in the common spaces.

But if and when you were around, your presence alone was palpable—quietly minding your business in a corner, but everyone was aware that you were there. It was that commanding and powerful aura you exuded.

It definitely reminded him of how a certain someone acted when he first got into the compound.

So he didn't take your indifference, borderline coldness to heart at the start since you weren't overly friendly to everyone.

But as weeks turned to months and the atmosphere around you began to shift, the contrast between your attitudes suddenly became more apparent.

There was a difference between how you acted around the team and how you behaved around him.

Bucky was quick to realize that you were definitely colder and much more judgemental when it came to him.

From your deathly glares during meetings, pointed eye rolls with each question he asked about letting you join on missions, audible enough scoffs to every comment he made, to completely turning away from him with a disapproving shake of your head, cursing him out in Russian under your breath as if he wasn't fluent in the language, as if he wouldn't catch you with superhuman hearing.

Your dislike towards him was excessively obvious.

Even more so as you began to acclimate in the compound, feeling more and more comfortable around fellow Avengers as you came out of your hard shell—you were now present during game nights and movie nights, you'd sat in the dining hall with the team during dinners, and willingly joining in when it was time for training. You'd even become fast friends with Wanda and Sam.

You were now a little less menacing towards acquaintances and agents, too. Most were still scared of you, and rightfully so. You always wore that impassive expression that never gave a hint whether you liked the person or not. You barely even smile, at those you didn't know anyway—well, unless you wanted to make a point.

Like that one time you knocked an agent off his feet during a spar, clean and swift when he told you, 'You would look prettier when you smile.' You towered over the heaving man on the floor, eyeing his bleeding nose with a grin, wide and sarcastic.

Other than that, you'd learned to be somewhat cordial—consisting of curt nods, to tight-lipped smiles and less glaring—with everyone else.

Well, everyone except him.

Oh you hated him.

Bucky could feel it searing on his skin just from one simple look, rattling deep in his bones with every scoff of disdain.

As a matter of fact, everyone could feel the simmering tension in the air when you both were in the same room, quietly bubbling like magma under the earth, waiting for that small opening to finally burst into chaos.

It didn't take long for the first shift to happen, a crack between each other's resolve, the slight change between you both.

Bucky couldn't say it was for the better.

After all, going from silent glares and unspoken distaste to petty comments and loud arguments wasn't exactly classified as an improvement.

•••

"I don't trust her, Steve."

"You haven't even given her a chance."

"She's an ex-HYDRA assassin," Bucky pressed, his scowl deepening when his best friend brushed him off. "They can never be trusted."

"Takes one to know one."

Bucky's heart stopped at the sound of your voice, body freezing momentarily once he saw you sat on the kitchen counter, legs kicking aimlessly as you read a book.

You looked innocent—so fucking cute, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that—like you could never do any harm. But he knew better. Which was why he couldn't stop his stomach from churning solely from the fact that you heard what he said.

And without even lifting your eyes from the page, you still were able to get a read on him.

It was frustrating how good you were.

"What?" you scoffed, taking a bite of the plum he was sure was taken from his stash. He was the only one who constantly brought them into the team. Finally looking at him, you raised a brow, pouting at him tauntingly. "Too scared to say it to my face?"

"I don't like people who keep secrets," Bucky huffed, arms crossed over his chest with a sharp glare as he looked you straight in the eye. "It was never mentioned how they found you, and we usually don't pick up strays off the street."

"Buck," Steve warned.

You closed your book with a harsh snap, hopping off the counter swiftly before walking towards him with a blank face. Taking another bite of the plum, you never broke eye contact, the fire in your gaze flickering the second you were standing right in front of him.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, his skin prickling with heat as you pointedly scanned him from head to toe, arms over your chest to mirror his stance, your head tilted in that annoyingly adorable way.

Yet the smallest adoration he held was quickly replaced by pure animosity the moment you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Rich coming from HYDRA's favorite lost and found pet," you said, face calm, voice just as much with a touch of being cold. The only other hint that showed your emotion was the fire that kept growing in those gorgeous eyes. Brow raised, you added, "At least I don't look homeless."

"Watch your fucking mouth," Bucky snarled, taking a challenging step forward, towering over you with fists clenched at his sides.

You pouted, seeming innocent as you hummed, "You know, they say lice make people irritable. You should get that checked."

His vibranium arm whirred, nostrils flaring as a growl rumbled in his chest.

You did nothing but smirk.

Before he could even open his mouth for a rebuttal, Steve was quick to get between you both.

"Alright, knock it off," he sighed, hand firm on Bucky's chest as he shot him a silent warning before turning to you. "There's a quick undercover op in Palermo, Sicily. Nothing more than a quick recon mission. Fly in, attend a party, gather intel, interrogate if necessary, fly out. And I want you two to be partners in it."

"When is this?" you asked, turning to Steve with brows furrowed in curiosity.

"In two days."

"Okay."

Bucky blinked.

He was surprised at how quick you were to agree. He expected you to argue against it, whine and complain about how you didn't want to go with him, list a bunch of things where he wasn't capable enough or just downright say you didn't trust him.

As if reading his mind—or perhaps he really needed to work on his poker face—you shrugged, adding, "It's a job at the end of the day. I can work with anyone and be professional about it."

You definitely did that on purpose to make him look bad.

Fucking kiss-ass.

"Good," Steve said with a smile which you irritatingly returned. "I'll have FRIDAY send you the file."

"Rogers that, Captain," you snorted at your own joke, waving your hand at Bucky before turning on your heel, your voice echoing down the hallway as you called out, "Just make sure he washes his hair! I don't want whatever's living in there to inhabit mine!"

Once you were gone, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh when Steve gave him that I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed look.

Again.

"Are you seriously taking her side?" he griped.

"I'm not taking any sides." Steve shrugged, arms crossed. "But, I mean, you called her unreliable behind her back, basically told her you didn't like her to her face, and then called her a stray which was unnecessary and uncalled for. You were kinda asking for it."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, a few deep breaths before grumbling, "Is there really no one else available for this mission?"

"Well, I'll see if Liam—"

No.

Liam was an arrogant piece of shit agent who stared at you for far too long during training to be considered appropriate. It was obvious enough, how he saw you as a prize to be won, proof of being 'the ultimate alpha male who could tame the lioness.' Those were the exact words Bucky overheard in the gym showers and it took everything in his power not to break a jaw or two.

That idiot would bottle the whole op trying to get your attention. And judging from what Bucky knew about him, it wasn't difficult to assume that he would end up thinking with the wrong head. He'd be more of a burden to you than an actual help.

Bucky was already filled in on what the mission was about, including what you were going to be pretending as. It was one of the many reasons why he was having doubts about you two being partners in this.

After all, for the mission to be a success, you had to sell the cover first. When you both couldn't be in the same room without showing utter disdain, when all of your conversations—the rare moments that you did have one—were more or less an argument, when you didn't even like each other, how on earth would you manage to convince everyone else that you two were happily and lovingly married?

It was impossible.

So you couldn't really blame him for being doubtful.

And no, it had nothing to do with how his whole body tingled with anticipation—and maybe excitement—nor the way his heart stuttered at the thought of being your husband.

But with all that said, he would be caught dead first before he'd allow Liam to take full advantage of it and see this mission as an opportunity rather than something to be taken seriously.

"Liam is incompetent. He'll only slow her down, compromise her and end up blowing their cover. It's obvious he's going to be distracted with all the fancy shit to not do his job at all. Someone's going to get hurt because he's fucking full of himself and—" Bucky stopped when he caught the way the blond was looking at him.

Steve was smirking, proud and all-knowing, wriggling his brows as if he got the exact reaction he wanted.

It was obvious Bucky fell right into his trap.

The consequence of having a best friend who knows you too well.

"I fucking hate you, Rogers," he growled, shoulder-checking Steve as he made his way back to the elevator.

It only made the punk laugh.

"I'll see you at the briefing, buddy!"

•••

Bucky rolled his eyes when he saw the audience waiting on the tarmac two days later.

The whole team was practically present, obviously wanting to see what would happen during your first mission together with him.

It was ridiculous.

They somewhat made this whole thing between you two as a source of entertainment. It was harmless enough since they never really did anything to provoke reactions. It was wholeheartedly both your own doing. But that didn't make it less annoying.

His scowl deepened when Sam took one look at him before bursting out into rambunctious laughter. He also didn't miss the way Nat and Wanda were trying their best to hold back their giggles.

"Looks good on you." Clint nodded, grinning.

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes, instinctively running his fingers through his newly cropped hair.

It was closer to how he used to wear it back in the 40s. The long cut was starting to get in the way, even during simple, everyday errands. It was also to help him look less recognizable for this undercover mission, paired nicely with the flesh camouflage Bruce had temporarily installed on his metal arm.

Other than that, Bucky figured it was time for a change. And what better way to mark a new chapter in his life than by getting a haircut?

It definitely wasn't because a small part of him was craving your approval.

"Oh," Steve said when he reached the tarmac, blinking a few times before smiling. "It looks good, Buck."

"Why is everyone making a big deal out of my haircut?" he grumbled exasperatedly.

"It's not about the haircut," Natasha butted in, the corner of her lips curved up. "It's why you got it."

"I didn't think you'd take what she said seriously," Steve chuckled.

"First of all, I got this haircut because I wanted a haircut. That's it. Second—" Bucky glared at his best friend. "—did you tell everyone about the lice insult?"

"I didn't tell anyone!" he defended, hands in the air. "I swear!"

"He didn't. Frosty was ranting to Nat and Wanda and I just happened to overhear the best parts," Sam snickered. "But God, you need her attention so bad."

"I don't need her attention," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I very much enjoy it if it's elsewhere."

"Whatever you say, Buckaroo."

Speaking of the beauty that was the devil, you walked out of the building with Tony, his hands gesticulating wildly, probably explaining the enhancement on the outfit you were currently wearing.

A newly improved tactical suit.

Bucky cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out his gear as he tried not to stare.

But fuck it was hard.

How could he not look when the combination of Kevlar and lycra hugged your body in all the right places? At first glance, it was all black from head to toe, but underneath the light, the color would shift. There was a bluish tinge to it, the straps and belts a deep silver-blue, the combination of colors representing the likes of dark ice and frost. He couldn't see the lower half of your face, your signature mask only showing off those menacing eyes. And show them off they did because not only did the half-mask make you look even more threatening, it also made your eyes even more beautiful. The dark fabric definitely brought more attention to them, a twinkle in your irises especially when the sunlight would hit them just right.

You definitely brought two different meanings to the phrase 'If looks could kill.'

One, your death glare was definitely promising, and two Bucky had never seen someone be so beautiful, so gorgeously deadly that his heart felt like it might take him out.

He didn't realize that he was actively staring until Sam's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Damn. You're more pathetic than I thought."

Bucky shot him a glare, landing a very soft punch to his stomach before storming into the Quinjet, quickly settling into the pilot's seat. He was done dealing with the team's antics, and he knew they'd only get rowdier when you're close. 

"Why is everyone here?" you said, and he could almost picture you rolling your eyes. "Why are you guys acting like you're sending your kids to boarding school?"

"Well, with how you and Terminator behave, it's not that different," Tony quipped. You must've glared at him because he was quick to add, "I'm kidding! You two are very mature adults."

"You guys are ridiculous," you snorted, boots hitting metal echoing around the space as you made your way inside.

"Have fun you two!"

"Not too much fun! I want that jet spotless when it gets back!"

"Please don't kill each other on the way!"

"Oh they grow up so fast."

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the latch once you finally settled yourself right beside him.

Your reasoning for the choice, he had no idea. You honestly could've picked every other available seat which was plenty. He decided not to dwell on it, stopping his mind from wandering too far into presumptuous thoughts.

But he definitely didn't miss the way you glanced at his hair.

He also didn't miss the way you were trying not to smirk.

"Stop gawking and put your goddamn seatbelt on," he grumbled, starting the jet before shrugging. "Or don't."

"You're so full of yourself," you scoffed, yet did as he said without any more protest.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"M'just glad to know you actually listen to me, much less, take my advice."

"Now, who's full of themselves?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "My haircut has nothing to do with you."

You were quiet for a moment. But he should've known better. It was something he learned lately, how you always felt the need to have the last word.

"Whatever pacifies your ego, Barnes."

Bucky could only growl in response.

•••

"Can you hurry up!" he called out after glancing at his watch for the fifth time.

He was fully dressed, in a suit and tie this time instead of his tactical gear. He'd already double-checked his weapons twice, a variety of them hidden underneath his jacket for ease of access.

And you still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Bucky was sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the bed, glaring at the dark wood separating you from him as if it would help you be quicker with whatever it was you were doing in there.

He was about to call out again when the door slammed open, harsh and quick that it bounced off the wall.

Bucky's breath was sucked out of his lungs once he saw you in your long and fitted black dress, the silk fabric complementing your figure, a very high slit exposing your thigh, straps thin on your shoulders they might as well be non-existent and a deep V neckline to match.

He suddenly felt hot when he saw that the dress was unzipped, exposing your back from the nape of your neck all the way down, stopping just above the swell of your—

He blinked out of his haze when you ignored him completely and marched towards the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. Your scowl was deep, irritation obvious in your demeanor as you looked for something, your back facing the mirror as you glared at your reflection over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill Natasha for picking this dress," you mumbled under your breath, so obviously talking to yourself but without taking into account his enhanced hearing. "Who puts a zipper this goddamn small you can't even find it."

"Jesus—" Bucky rolled his eyes, standing up from his place and stalking towards you. "Turn around."

Your eyes snapped up to his, glare deadly as you hissed, "I don't need your help—"

"Get over yourself will you?" he scoffed. "We're going to be late."

"Fine," you gritted, turning around abruptly and crossing your arms. "Since you so badly want to make yourself feel useful."

Your quip went in one ear and out the other. Not because he was done with your shit—which he was—but because he was rendered speechless by what he was seeing.

There was a temptation to trace the path from the small of your back up to your spine, to feel your warm and naked skin underneath his fingertips.

But his attention was captured by something else entirely.

His lips curled into a frown as he scanned the nape of your neck. Now that he was closer, he could see the way your delicate skin was littered with scars, ones that weren't his nor was his infliction, but were familiar to him it made his chest ache.

Absentmindedly, his fingers hovered over it, close and featherlight to feel a prickle of electricity, but not enough for it to fully touch. He circled the smallest yet deepest one, right in the middle where he assumed the chip was embedded. His frown deepened as he traced the various jagged lines that started from the center, crawling down like roots and stopping just at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Bucky ignored the goosebumps that rose from your skin, heavily fighting the urge to kiss it.

You cleared your throat, looking at him through your periphery. "What, you've never seen scars before?"

"Those are scratch marks," he stated as a fact, voice coming out rougher than he'd intended to.

Bucky knew because he had similar-looking ones that covered his left shoulder.

Like someone was trying to claw it out of their skin.

"Yeah, well," you grumbled, shifting in your black heels. "It's not like I wanted that chip in me."

Almost instinctively, he leaned closer, lips parted, your body shivering as his breath brushed over your skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hurriedly yet carefully zipping up your dress before walking towards the door.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said before closing it behind him without looking back.

Bucky paced up and down the hall in hopes that it would help shake the absolute rage he felt.

Not at you, but for you.

It was sudden yet burning, the anger in his blood at the simple thought of what those fucking assholes did to you. It didn't help in the slightest that he was so familiar with their methods.

It made him want to burn every person who laid a hand on you alive.

If the world managed to catch fire during that, then so fucking be it.

Bucky didn't know where it came from, the sense of protectiveness over you. It was so strong and unrelenting that it blatantly showed the second you stepped into the ballroom. From the way he'd held you closer by his side, arm secured around your waist as you mingled with guests, to his sharp glare aimed at any man who lingered too close and stared at you far too inappropriately.

He was telling himself it was part of the ruse, to sell this fake marriage to a viable audience so you could get the intel—gathering names that were connected to the Mafia, and when you're attending the birthday party of the Don, it wasn't difficult to do so—that you needed. He was watching your back like how any good partner should during missions. Even though he hated you, he wasn't cruel enough to let you get hurt. You could never know who was harmlessly flirting with you, and who was there with ulterior motives. It was better safe than sorry.

It definitely was not anything personal for him.

Despite everything, the mission went surprisingly well—smoothly even. It was impressive, borderline uncanny, the way you matched each other as if you'd been partners for years instead of this being the first.

It was easy, reading the signal you gave before Bucky made his way toward the elevators. The few moments he left you alone were enough for you to do what was needed, tempt and seduce. It was easy, a slimy yet important capo immediately taking the bait. Not that Bucky could blame him either. Nobody stood a chance when you were the one luring.

And just as the metal doors opened with a soft ding, Bucky stepped aside, letting you and the unsuspecting, inebriated man stumble in, slurring obscenities about 'getting some' as he clung to you, grumbling about 'showing you a better time than your husband.'

Bucky didn't even hide his scowl as he followed, fist slamming harshly on the button of your hotel floor. He wasn't gentle either as he injected the guy with a drug Bruce had concocted, one that made someone drunk to a point that they wouldn't remember what happened the next day while they were under the influence. Something about brain chemicals and whatnot.

Once you reached your shared room, he let you take the reins, sitting in a corner with a glass of whiskey as he watched. He wanted to see just how immersed you got when you were in your element.

And Bucky was impressed.

The way you circled that tied man, unhurried yet calculating, fingers trailing, taunting him, making him shiver in anticipation as to what you'd do next. Your voice was sickly sweet yet never less threatening as you asked questions that even Bucky had a whiplash listening to you talk.

You were like a poisonous wild berry, sweet, alluring, tempting on the outside, but downright deadly if you take a bite.

He also found it extremely hot but he wasn't going to talk about that.

It didn't take long for the man to spew out valuable information. But when he was being particularly difficult in some cases, Bucky stalked closer, shrugging his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves, and turning the flesh camouflage off. When the lamp on the bedside reflected on his metal forearm, it was enough to make the captive talk more.

Bucky took the liberty of doing cleanup once you got all the information you needed while you changed out of your dress in the bathroom. You were adamant about not needing his help with the zipper this time. He didn't bother to insist.

He stripped the unconscious man down to his boxers, tucking him to bed to make it seem like a one-night stand and nothing more. It wasn't like the idiot would remember much in the morning, anyway. He also made sure there was no trace of any of you in the room, checking twice to be sure he didn't miss anything.

Once everything was cleared and his bag was packed, you emerged out of the bathroom, now back in your tactical suit. You wordlessly made your way out of the hotel, Bucky right on your tail.

Neither of you spoke a word as you flew back home that same night.

The air was tense in the Quinjet.

And as much as people could argue that it was always like that whenever you and Bucky were in the same room, this time, it felt different.

Bucky couldn't just pinpoint as to why exactly that was.

The only thing he could clearly see was that you were even more guarded than before. Yet as hardened as your face was, your eyes were telling a different story. There was a distant look in them as if you were in a different place right this second.

Even as you got back to the compound and sat in one of the conference rooms for a debrief with Steve, there was still something off about you. You were quieter than usual, only speaking when spoken to. You even rushed to leave the room before Steve could fully wrap things up.

The blonde had shot him a questioning—almost accusing—look, probably also noticing your uncanny behavior. But all Bucky could do was shrug because even he wasn't quite sure as to what was on your mind that undeniably put you off.

Was it the moment in front of the mirror when he'd traced your scar? Or was it everything that transpired in the ballroom?

Having his arm around your waist, pulling you so close to his side he could practically feel your body heat through the layers of his suit, moments where he'd lean down to whisper in your ear, you masking it with a giggle as if the intel was the funniest thing he'd ever told you.

It was without a doubt the closest you two have ever been physically, pretending to be husband and wife, gazing into each other's eyes as if you were in love.

That was quite a lot for people who hated each other.

Or was that just him?

And even though Bucky was tired after the mission, he couldn't get a wink of sleep.

It wasn't from nightmares this time though—well, not his anyway.

Laying in his bed, staring at the random design engrained on the ceiling, Bucky couldn't stop thinking about what horrors you went through while you were under HYDRA's influence.

He wished his imagination was way worse than reality, that his head was making every situation far more gruesome and cruel than it truly was.

But Bucky knew better.

He knew that his imagination couldn't even come close to what truly transpired. And in this line of work, reality was always much worse.

Besides, he did live through it himself.

But knowing you had gone through something similar, somehow, it felt much more…hurtful.

Maybe this was the whole not wishing it on your worst enemies type of thing. Maybe it was an understanding. Maybe it was simply empathy. Maybe it was the culmination of everything mentioned all at once.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

•••

"I didn't think I'd see the day where someone would actually challenge his staring problem."

"She doesn't look phased, though."

"He's definitely losing."

"I can hear you," Bucky said, loud enough for Sam and Wanda to hear but never taking his eyes off you even for a second.

"Good morning, Frosted Flakes." Sam walked over to you with a pat on the head.

You looked away from Bucky then, swatting Wilson's hand away, nose scrunched adorably with a snort, "What happened to 'Frosty'?"

"Oh no, your nickname is still Frosty," Sam chuckled. "Just sprinkling some spice every once and a while."

Bucky's grip on his mug tightened when he saw you flash Sam a genuine smile.

It's been a week since your mission together and you were back to your usual self—friendly to the team and absolutely loathing him still. As a matter of fact, you'd been acting as if the mission didn't happen at all, fully putting it behind you like a closed case.

Bucky wasn't quite sure if he was relieved or annoyed about it.

Fine.

He was annoyed because how could you be so nonchalant about the whole thing when he hadn't been able to think of anything else since?

It was infuriating seeing you so unaffected while he was still losing sleep, remembering how your warm body felt pressed up against his and the way your breath tickled the skin just below his ear whenever you whispered some information to him.

Then came the thoughts about your scars—what ifs and I hope not's with what happened to you in that facility. His chest would ache every time he closed his eyes and the image of your hurt skin would flash in his mind.

Or he'd find himself blushing like a schoolboy, wondering how things would've played out if he didn't hesitate, if he actually tried kissing it better—

"I never got to know why your alias is Frost," Wanda asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Cold-blooded killer, stone-cold heart, grew up and was trained in a cold climate, pretty basic actually. And, well," you paused, raising a brow his way. "Winter was taken."

"Can never trust someone who still goes by their name as a killer," he scoffed.

The way your whole face turned cold as you looked at him was so impressive it made Bucky's heart sting with longing.

Still, he didn't shy away from your glare.

It was only during these moments that he could shamelessly look into your gorgeous eyes, after all.

"I'm reclaiming it as my own. You give the name they gave you power, they still have control over you. Now, when I take back that power, the only one who has control over me, is me." You crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as you added, "I think you can learn a thing or two about that, Soldat."

The chair screeched as Bucky stood from his seat, stalking towards you with a low growl. You simply turned to look at him, letting him tower over you with no ounce of fear in your demeanor. His fists clenched, vibranium arm whirring when you dared to smirk at him. 

You raised a brow, chin raised high and cocky, so defiant, so bratty, it makes him want to—

"Case and point," you whispered proudly.

Before Bucky could even come up with a comeback, Steve's voice interrupted,

"Break it off." The captain walked into the room with his shoulders slumped as if he was tired of dealing with the same shit every day.

Bucky almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Do you have a radar for when we start fighting?" you snorted.

"Maybe," he said, brow raised at you. "Nat's been waiting for you in the training room."

"I don't need any more training," you grumbled, and with Bucky still standing quite close to you, he could almost see you pouting.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

"There's no such a thing as too much training," Steve said in that 'captain voice' of his. "Besides, you need to learn how to hold back your punches."

"So, you're saying…" you sighed. "You don't trust me not to kill anyone?"

Bucky has never seen Steve turn bright red so quickly in his life.

"No! That's not—"

You giggled.

Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what his heart did in his chest.

You walked over to the blushing blonde, patting his chest with a bright smile. "Just messing with you, Steve."

He wasn't sure if he was jealous of the casual affection you were able to give to Steve, or the fact that his best friend got along so well with you that you might as well have known each other all your life.

Yet either thought was pushed to the back of his head as he watched you walk away in those goddamn leggings. There was always a certain sway to your hips whenever you moved, a confidence he couldn't help but be captivated by. But those goddamn gray leggings, for reasons he couldn't explain, were somehow accentuating everything that much more. From your hips to your thighs and that ass—

"Get out of my head, Maximoff," Bucky grumbled, cheeks burning when he caught the way the redhead was quietly smirking in the corner. 

"I wasn't even in your head," Wanda laughed, still honoring the promise she made to him to always respect his boundaries when it came to his mind, which he was grateful for. "It's all over your face."

"You look hungry as hell, man," Sam added, grinning. 

"Well, if you want to ogle more," Steve teased, smiling amusedly. "Don't you have your recruits to train?"

Bucky could only flip them off as he walked towards the elevator.

•••

Fists hitting against bags, punches blocked with precision, hisses and groans as bones met muscle, bodies landing on padded floors with low grunts, and the occasional cheers and hollers from the opposite side of where he stood.

There was quite a crowd at the training room—and by room he meant a whole floor—at this time of day. After all, it was mostly everyone's schedule for it.

It was hectic, and for someone with enhanced senses, it can be overstimulating. But Bucky had grown to learn how to focus the amount of input his brain took. Right now, it wasn't on the young boy he was currently sparring with.

Oh no.

It was over at the mats where a crowd had formed. It was like fight night, a challenge born out of pure pride and ego as to who could land even just one blow on the current victor.

You.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watched you dance around a man who was more or less a foot taller than you. It was graceful, the way you jumped onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his neck before you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip the agent onto his back, tightening your thighs around his neck before he rapidly started tapping on the mat.

You barely even broke a sweat.

Bucky swiftly raised his right arm, blocking a high kick from the recruit. It was a valiant effort but it simply wasn't quick enough to surpass his enhanced senses.

"Good thinking to use a moment's distraction to your advantage," he commended, grabbing his ankle and flinging the kid over his shoulder. "But never underestimate your opponent."

He looked around his group, fresh graduates and all looking properly beaten and tired, and not just physically. None of them had ever won a spar with him. But, well, not to sound egotistical, but it was never a fair fight to begin with.

He was a supersoldier for crying out loud.

As their trainer, he could keep going. There were no breaks out there in a real fight. But then again, he has to remember that his blood was fueled differently compared to them.

Besides, his attention was most definitely elsewhere, and he kinda wants to watch a different session instead.

Was he slacking on the job? Maybe.

But hey, let's say he was simply trying not to drain the life out of the newbies.

"Great job today," Bucky said with a curt nod. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

Relief rolled over the group like a wave, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. As they all left one by one, Bucky remained at his station, leisurely sipping on his water as he watched the commotion across him.

"Do I really need to keep doing this?" you sighed at Steve after you pinned down yet another recruit who was definitely a few sizes bigger than you, swift and hard to disorient them but not enough to cause any real damage. Properly learning how to hold back your punches. "Aren't I supposed to be showing what I'm truly capable of?"

"You're getting cocky," Nat chuckled, throwing an M&M in her mouth.

"I'm not," you shrugged, yet your smirk said otherwise. You stood up, dusting your shoulder to make a show out of it. "I just want a challenge for once."

"Okay," Steve hummed, scanning the room before his eyes met his, gesturing for him to come over. "Hey, Buck!"

Here we go.

With a sigh, Bucky walked over to your group.

"Really? You want me to hold back on him?"

You couldn't have toned down your disdain even if you tried.

"Bold of you to assume you can lay a finger on me," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You wanted a challenge so, go ahead," Steve hummed. "No holding back this time. I'm sure Buck can take it."

"I feel insulted that he's the standard," you grumbled, hands on your hips as you raised a brow at him. "But if you're telling me not to hold back I might end up killing him."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Cute."

"Let's see if it's cute if I've got a knife down your throat."

"Jesus—" Steve ran a hand over his face before shooting you both a look. "I didn't say kill each other."

"Fine," you sighed dejectedly. "I'll try not to."

"Don't worry, Steve," Bucky hummed, smirking. "I'll go easy on her."

You were the first to attack.

Bucky expected you to go for the chest. With the short moment he observed you, that was usually what you went for when an opponent had a much larger stature than you. But surprisingly, you slid through his legs, kicking the back of his knee to make them buckle, causing him to fall forward. Catching himself on both hands, he rolled to the right just as your foot landed on where his head had been.

Is she actually trying to kill me?

He grabbed your ankle then, pulling it so rapidly that it had you landing on your chest with a cough. Before Bucky could even blink, you twisted, your leg hitting the side of his face. He stumbled back with a groan, giving you enough time to get back on your feet.

With deep breaths, you glared at each other from your places on the mat, bodies at the ready for another round.

Bucky attacked.

From the outside looking in, you two might as well have been doing a choreographed routine. You were dancing around each other, blocking some punches, landing a few kicks, and just when you thought that one had locked the other down, they'd immediately slipped from their grasp.

And this went on and on and on and on.

Nobody could decipher as to who would win this fight.

It was mesmerizing.

Bucky was impressed at the way you could keep up with him. He wasn't counting the time, but your stamina never seemed to waver. You didn't seem to have any need to catch your breath. You were definitely better than any of the agents, and dare he say it, any of the Avengers he'd sparred with.

Then again, your skills were a mixture of a Black Widow and HYDRA. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you were simply that good.

But Bucky was better.

He was also at an advantage since The Winter Soldier's fighting style was so clearly the blueprint for your training. That was one of the things he always noticed when it came to HYDRA. When one thing was a success, they were going to run that program to the ground.

If Bucky hadn't known any better, he might as well have trained you himself.

He was able to predict your next move quite easily, already knowing what his counterattack would be before you could even land a blow.

It was making you frustrated.

Bucky couldn't help but be cocky about it.

"Killing me, huh?" he whispered against your ear once he had you in a chokehold.

Again. 

"Don't tempt me to do it," you hissed, head thrown back abruptly to catch his nose.

Once his grip loosened even the slightest bit, you pushed his arm and dropped to the ground in a crouching position, spinning with one leg out to sweep him off his feet. He stumbled but didn't fall. In an attempt to keep the momentum, you tried to go for a handstand kickup, but Bucky caught your ankle before you could even complete your move, tossing you over his shoulder with little effort.

Quickly, you were back on your feet. Sweat covered your body as you heaved. There was a cut on your brow to match his bleeding nose, the bruise on your lip was looking quite similar to his, too.

Still, you looked absolutely beautiful.

But even with your fists up, seemingly ready to go again, Bucky could see your strength waning by the second, and your frustration wasn't helping you one bit.

That was always aweakness.

You will lose if you let your emotions come into play, no matter how well trained you were.

"That all you got?" Bucky taunted, arms out as he tilted his head with a pout. "He told you not to hold back, принцесса."

He hadn't meant to taunt the nickname in Russian. It just slipped out, like it somehow felt right to say it that way.

Yet the fire that lit your eyes was screaming at him otherwise—a look so raw and unnerving it made Bucky break out into nervous sweats.

It all happened so fast.

Bucky was caught off-guard when you ran to him at full speed with a growl, your knee hitting his chest with such force it knocked him onto his back. He hissed when he felt your knee dig into his rib, putting all your weight on it to hold him down. His head tilted up once he felt the cold, sharp blade against his neck.

In his periphery, he saw Nat patting herself down, eyes flickering over to the knife you were holding against Bucky's throat, her eyes wide in shock. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, one of the world's best and deadliest assassins, didn't even notice you taking a knife from her belt.

That was how fast it happened.

"Call me принцесса again and see what happens," you said, low and menacing. You were so close, your warm breath was tickling his lips but Bucky could only focus on your eyes.

There were so many emotions swimming in them, yet the sadness was what intrigued him the most.

But before he could get a proper read, you were gone.

The next thing he knew there was a dagger flying past his head, embedding itself on the mat. He felt something warm trickle down his ear. Bucky didn't need to see to know that you'd managed to graze his skin enough to draw some blood.

A warning.

He wasn't even given the time to collect himself before you were already leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

Blinking twice, only then did Bucky realize that you had managed to gather quite the audience, all of which were silenced as to what just happened.

"What'd he call her?" Sam asked, holding a packet of Skittles in one hand.

"Printsessa. It's Russian for princess," Nat explained, shaking her head disappointedly before rushing to follow you.

Bucky was confused. 

He thought it was quite an overreaction to calling someone an innocent nickname.

"Right! The show's over!" Steve's 'captain voice' boomed. "Everyone back to their duties!"

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face before taking the outstretched hand Steve was offering him.

"I don't get it," the blonde murmured once he helped him up and offered him tissues.

"What?" Bucky asked, wiping the blood off his skin. 

"You and Y/N," Steve elaborated. "I really thought you two would get along so well."

Bucky frowned. "What made you think that?"

"You're basically two peas in the same pod," Steve said as if it was obvious enough.

"We're nothing alike," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"What's all this?"

It was never common to see Steve Rogers hauling boxes out of his room on a random Thursday morning. And one glance at his open door, the space was completely empty.

"You're leaving?" Bucky pressed worriedly.

"No," Steve chuckled. "Just moving floors."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you—"

The blonde was cut off when the elevator dinged. It was more stacks of boxes being rolled into the space. But then a figure stepped into view. Steve turned to him with a shit-eating grin.

"—are getting a new floormate."

Bucky has never wanted to punch him so badly.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Rogers."

His so-called best friend only smirked at him.

To most, Steve Rogers was the golden boy, America's greatest hero.

To Bucky? He was just an annoying little shit.

"Y/N," Steve greeted once you crossed paths in the living room.

"Steven," you responded, moving aside to let him and his stuff into the elevator.

"Try and don't kill each other please," he said, raising his brow knowingly.

You shrugged. "No promises."

"Be nice!" was the punk's last words before the elevator doors closed.

You didn't even spare Bucky a glance.

Instead, you just started bringing the boxes you brought with you into Steve's—well, your room.

Bucky, with no desire to help, casually leaned against the wall. He simply watched you make the repeating journey, taking box after box with you.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked after a minute.

"Because I'm a good fucking friend, Barnes."

"What did Natasha bribe you with?"

"Fuck's sake," you groaned, dropping the box only to shoot him a glare. "Are favors for friends a new concept to you?"

"Favor? What favor?" he pushed. "Having Steve as a floormate?"

You ignored him, continuing with your task at hand.

"Why would she want Rogers to be next to her room—" Realization hit Bucky like a flying red white and blue shield. "Oh."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I knew you were dense but I was hoping Steve would've at least filled you in."

Bucky always knew that there was a little something between those two but he wasn't buying it as the only reason why Steve suddenly switched floors with you. They probably thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. Nat and Steve were the number one duo who had been trying to push the two of you to get along.

And when the tension only grew that much more after that incident in the training room, Bucky wouldn't be surprised if this whole floormate switch-up had something to do with their pursuit of making you act at least civil with one another.

"Don't worry," you said, placing the last box on the floor before meeting his eyes. "You won't even notice that you have a neighbor to begin with."

You slammed the door shut.

For the rest of the day, your statement remained true. Bucky barely heard from you at all, despite staying in his room given that it was his day off.

You were back to your ghostly ways, he supposed, keeping to yourself for the most part. But then again, it was only day one.

Unfortunately, your statement was immediately proven wrong that very same night.

Bucky was woken up by the faint whimpering he could hear through the wall. 

They weren't exactly thin, but they weren't soundproof either. There was a feature to cancel out the noise and prevent it from going out, but you had to enable it through FRIDAY.

You must've forgotten to turn it on.

He bolted out of bed when he heard you scream.

Bucky was outside your door in seconds, chest heaving as he pressed his palm flat against the surface.

He couldn't bring himself to knock.

Bucky simply didn't know if rushing inside your room was going to help you, or make things worse.

So he stood there, right outside your door, eyes screwed shut as pain clawed at his chest, listening as your screams turned to heart aching sobs.

Bucky had never felt so useless in his life.

He didn't know how long he was standing there, ears on high alert as he listened to every shaky breath you let out. He only went back to his room once you had gotten calmer.

Yet he didn't quite get some sleep that night.

Bucky—unbeknownst to you and him—had grown even more protective of you.

It was an unconscious act on his part, one he didn't even realize he was doing until Sam pointed it out.

It was always him who pointed things out, unfortunately.

"Since when did you become her guard dog?" Wilson had teased him once, right as they got back to the compound after a morning run.

His actions came to him in flashes. Whether that was immediately clocking any HYDRA agent coming your way and taking them out of the equation before you could even notice, taking extra precautions on missions for your behalf, or simply glaring at any agent who even did as much as look at you the wrong way. And if they actually said something, best believe Bucky didn't make it easy for them when it came to training.

But he never acknowledged Sam's words or outwardly showed that they affected him.

He only walked past Sam with a soft punch on the arm.

•••

Living on the same floor as you was…something.

For the first two weeks, it felt like Bucky was truly alone and that nobody lived in the room next door.

But as weeks turned to a month, traces of you were slowly integrating themselves around the common area, little things that made him know more about you.

You had a few cat-shaped mugs in the cupboard that made Bucky think you were a cat person. But then on a random day, he saw an orange one which looked like a dog, its face on one side and its butt on the other. He deduced that you simply liked animal mugs altogether because he saw a raccoon one, too. 

Then there was a knitted throw blanket on the sofa that smelled so much like you. It didn't take long for that to get followed by a fluffy pillow or two. All of them were one specific color but Bucky didn't know if that was your favorite one, or you simply liked to keep things coordinated. Maybe it was both.

Whether that was random knick knacks around the shelves, a DVD set by the TV, a well-loved book on the coffee table, the breadcrumbs of him having you as a floormate were starting to become apparent.

Besides that, he never truly felt like there was someone else on the same floor as him because rarely did you end up in your shared space at the same time.

If you did, you two always bickered to no end.

But as the sky turned from a shade of blue to the deep black of the night, Bucky was reminded that you were there right next to his room.

He wasn't overly fond of how the reminder was given.

Your nightmares didn't happen as frequently as he was prepared for them to be. But every other night was still a lot for one person to handle.

Bucky was yet to gain the courage to knock on the door.

It might have been creepy to just stand outside, it might as well have been cruel to do nothing while you were in distress.

But he was scared.

Not for him, but for you.

He honestly couldn't decipher whether he would be of any help or not if he just burst into your room unannounced. Because as confusing as living with you was, one thing remained clear.

You definitely still hated him.

"Can you fucking pick up after yourself?" you complained.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's one fucking spoon."

"Then put it in the sink!"

"Jesus fucking Christ what has that spoon ever done to you?"

"It's dirty and you're leaving it on the counter!"

"And?"

"You've got milk and cereal all over it!"

"I'm not asking you to clean it."

"But it's fucking annoying, you fucking slob!"

"Stop acting like you own this whole fucking place, printsessa."

It was truly impressive, how fast you had him pushed against the fridge with a goddamn bread knife against his throat.

It also stirred something in him but he wasn't ready to unpack that.

Bucky was holding his breath because if he did as much as relax, he knew the blade would nick his skin.

Who was he kidding, that definitely wasn't the reason he was holding his breath. He was a super soldier for crying out loud. He healed fast. A menial scrape wouldn't do much harm.

But you had just finished showering after your morning run and Bucky could smell your shampoo. Vanilla. Simple and sweet, a stark contrast to your fiery glare and the way you were holding a knife to his throat.

It was driving him insane.

"What did I say about calling me that," you said lowly.

"You know, you act so tough in front of everyone," he said, eyes defiantly glaring back at you. "But a meaningless nickname scares you this much?"

"Ne ispytyvay udachu, Soldat," you growled, pressing the knife that little bit harder.

Don't push your luck, Soldier.

Such a simple sentence yet it threw Bucky into an emotional rollercoaster.

He didn't know if it was the threat in itself, the way you spoke another language in that deep growl, or the fact that you were holding a knife down his throat but he felt scared there for a moment.

You were terrifying when you were angry.

And maybe this was such a fucked up thing to say but why was he turned on by it?

Bucky was grateful that you quickly left him alone after that. Once you were out of his enhanced earshot, he dropped his head and sighed, hoping and goddamn praying that you didn't notice the tent that had grown in his workout shorts.

It would've been so humiliating otherwise.

Shaking his head, Bucky could almost hear Sam's voice. 

"Damn, you're more pathetic than I thought."

•••

The mission was a bust.

One of the most important HYDRA scientists got away and managed to take with him the files they needed to track down other facilities.

The Avengers were gathered around the forest where the Quinjet was hidden. But instead of getting aboard and being on their way home, everyone was watching a screaming match instead.

Whenever a mission would go awry, everyone would regroup in the jet to try and discuss what went wrong and how to improve it on the next mission. There were never fingers thrown around as to whose fault it was because it was never anyone's fault.

But right now, you decided to blame it on him.

"What the fuck is your problem!" You all but marched up to Bucky, shoving him hard on the chest, making him stumble back in surprise. "Do you always get a kick at sabotaging my part of the mission?"

"Sabotage?" Bucky laughed humorlessly. "I don't care about you enough to do that."

However, if someone had seen what happened beforehand, they absolutely would call him a liar right to his face.

"Oh really?" you argued, shoving him again. The action was really riling him up. "Then why are you so fucking hell-bent on meddling with what I'm doing!"

"Because I don't fucking trust you!" Bucky gritted, aggressive with no ounce of truth as he took a step towards you. "I wouldn't be surprised if you let him get away. Sure as hell looked like you recognized him."

"Wow." You shook your head, scoffing, "So we're going to pretend like I'm the only one who used to work for HYDRA here?"

"Then why didn't you catch him?"

"You shoved me away!" you yelled, hands balling into fists. "I fucking had him!"

"You were being careless!" he stated the obvious, growling when you decided to shove him out of spite. Again. "You were about to get shot!"

"So fucking what!"

That only angered him more.

"Well, I'm sorry for fucking saving your life then!"

"How was I supposed to know someone was behind me? I don't have eyes on the back of my fucking head!" you countered, shoving a finger at the Captain without taking your eyes off Bucky. "And no, Steve, my partner didn't say a fucking thing even though he was supposed to watch my back!"

Bucky will throw his hands up and admit that you were right. But he didn't get a chance to warn you about it because he admittedly got distracted by nothing else but you.

For some reason, Steve found it helpful to partner you and Bucky during missions from time to time, said it was to build up the team chemistry. He had no qualms over it the first couple few, since you two did work quite well together despite your personal animosity.

But something about today's mission threw him off—specifically, the second you managed to get a hold of that scientist whose name he was yet to learn.

Yet it was clear as day that you recognized this man.

It was the first time Bucky truly saw this darker side of you. The pure and unbridled anger that captured your whole being was mesmerizing, the low drawl of your voice akin to a siren, captivating and that much more deadly.

And your eyes.

You didn't have superpowers but they honestly looked like they were starting to catch fire as you examined the man, as if thinking about all the ways you could make him suffer, turn him inside out with as much pain as you could muster.

During that moment, Bucky realized that he would've let you scorch the earth if it meant finally getting that revenge over the people who'd made you endure years of torture.

He would've stood by your side proudly.

It both aroused and scared him.

Embarrassingly so.

By then, Bucky didn't notice the HYDRA agent until they were already too close. All that was needed was one pull of the trigger.

So in a moment of panic, he ran, straight at you and shoved you out of the way.

It was either a slight bruise on your side or a bullet to the back of your head.

Bucky didn't take any chances.

Unable to control his strength, he pushed you across the room and knocked the breath out of you. And when he finished off the agent and you still hadn't gotten up, Bucky panicked. He honestly thought he might've killed you. And as he stood there in shock, only breathing again once you let out a sharp cough, the scientist already used that slim time to get away.

Yet despite the fear he felt during that moment, and the utter shame he was harboring because he failed as your partner on the field, his ego right this second couldn't even begin to admit that it was all his fault. So, he matched your glare.

"What's the point of saying something if you won't even fucking listen?"

"You know what, sure," you threw your hands up, so clearly exasperated. "Nothing of sense comes out of that mouth anyway,"

"Maybe I should've just let you take that bullet," he seethed, anger boiling over. Your defiance and absolute lack of fear as you squared up to him didn't help by one bit. "Finally get rid of the pain in my ass."

"As if you don't like getting pegged."

"Walk away you two," Steve commanded, voice stern and void of any patience. He gave Bucky's shoulder a push. You turned on your heel then.

But Bucky was just so angry that he couldn't stop himself from muttering under his breath in Russian. 

"Useless bitch."

He didn't mean it.

But you heard.

Oh you heard it loud and clear.

Bucky was sure of it because the next thing he saw was a gun pointed right in between his eyes.

"Maybe a bullet to the head will finally heal that blended brain of yours," you said, voice scarily calm, your face hardened and void of any emotion as you stared at him dead in the eye. "Or at least give justice to those innocent lives you took."

"Y/N!" Steve scolded, attempting to get you two to break it off.

But neither of you budged.

Everyone was on edge now, not entirely sure what to do next in case one wrong move would set either of you off.

"Rich, coming from you. But go ahead," he challenged, taking a step until the barrel of the gun was pressed right against his forehead. "Besides, it won't be too hard for you since you don't really discriminate against who you kill, do you? I mean, this wouldn't be the first time you killed your own teammate."

Tilting his head tauntingly, Bucky pouted. "Or was that your boyfriend?"

"Bucky!" Natasha gasped.

It wasn't the firm push of Steve's hand nor his tall stature standing in the middle that sobered Bucky up.

Oh no.

His anger left his body way before that.

The way your hand began to shake, the tremble on your lips, and the look of pure pain in your eyes was like a bucket of ice cold water.

Bucky knew that look.

He'd seen it through the mirror when a memory would replay itself in his head and there was nothing he could do except watch—the light leaving their eyes, the echo of screams, a gunshot, a body falling on the floor.

It was a look that was too familiar that Bucky felt the guilt clogging his throat because he knew he'd just managed to make you relive that specific moment over and over.

"That's enough!" Steve said firmly. "Both of you."

Bucky tried to meet your eyes, tried to immediately take back what he just said. But Natasha was already guiding you towards the jet, your head down with your arms around yourself.

"Don't," he sighed when Steve shot him a disappointed look. "I know."

Bucky followed the rest of the team after that.

The silence hung in the Quinjet during the journey home, a touch awkward but thick with tension.

You both have been forced to sit on opposite ends, as far from each other as possible. Well, forced wasn't the right word. You willingly put as much distance as you could from him, as if breathing the same air as him was out of the question.

Still, the jet felt as cramped as ever.

Rotting in his own guilt and self-pity, Bucky couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

There was a harsh tug on his heartstrings when he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your tactical suit, flinching at the slightest turbulence or even the softest of sound. You'd never looked up once the second you sat there.

You were anxious.

He had never seen you like this before.

Mission reports could only tell so much, and when yours had been mostly redacted, Bucky knew nothing about what truly went down. Yet despite not being stated on the pages, he had an inkling that whatever your bond was with your aforementioned partner, it went far deeper than just a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

He didn't even know if it was given that label to begin with.

The worst of it all, Bucky knew that during that circumstance, you did the right thing.

And you paid a heavy price.

PART 2

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