#someone give bucky a hug

[adaines-furious-feast]

Bucky was always a little jealous of the attention Kristen got, until she leaves.

After she leaves he realises, oh, she hasn't slept alone in bed since Bricker was five because either he or Cork would crawl into her bed when they had nightmares. And she had to hold off on healing herself sometimes because -3 dex runs in the family and she had save spell energy for if Cork tripped and fell down the stairs again. And wow did he never realise just how hard it was to take verses from the Corn Bible and use them to stop their parents going on and on until their shouting at Bricker for something Bucky knows he tried in the past and Kristen came to his defence.

[bucky-obsessed]

Bucky because yes!

[katatonicimpression]

[rambleonwaywardson]

Sleepless

A Clegan (Buck x Bucky) one-shot

Summary: Buck and Bucky both struggle with nightmares after the war, but they help each other cope.

Word Count: 2380

Author's note: some hurt/comfort for you all with some fluff at the end. As before, I'm posting here for now, and if I manage to build up a small collection of Clegan drabbles I'll see about putting them on AO3.

--

Bucky can’t sleep. But he could sit and watch Gale sleep for hours. 

They’ve been doing okay, since the war. They’ve had good days and bad days. Good nights and worse nights. Over time, something in both of their minds is slowly, slowly beginning to heal, and the frequency of worse is steadily decreasing. Bucky is proud to say that he can, on average, probably sleep through the night almost every day of the week now. It’s taking time, but he’s getting there. He thinks to himself that he should start keeping track: “nights since last nightmare that made me afraid to close my eyes again…”

Zero.

Tonight, unfortunately, had fallen into the worse category. 

Sometimes, when he wakes up, he can’t even remember what he’d been dreaming about. Sometimes, he isn’t sure that he had a dream at all. Just a feeling, an unease, a fear. Something that grips his mind and soul and just refuses to let go, no matter how hard he tries to shake it off. Funny how in war, in a bomber plane under attack, in a POW camp, in a near-death experience, he didn’t notice the fear so much. It was there, sure; he felt it creeping around in the back of his brain almost every second. But it was rarely all-consuming, and he did his best to push it away. He had to keep going, after all. Had to survive, had to find Gale, had to look after his men, had to make it home. There wasn’t time to let the fear drown him. There wasn’t time to truly think about how terrible, how harrowing, his experiences were in the moment. For the most part, he just had to keep going.

Now, in the aftermath, the fear pops up seemingly out of nowhere and makes him feel sick. He finds that unfair. He’d made it. He beat all of the unbeatable odds and survived. He’d found his way home, made it back to Gale. He isn’t dead no matter how hard the world has tried to do him in. And this is what he gets: he gets to remember it all in clearer detail than he experienced it when it actually happened. He gets to be haunted by it.

He made it home, but part of him is still at war.

Sitting cross-legged on their bed in sweatpants and no shirt, Bucky rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. He takes a deep breath. It’s fucking unfair, but at least it’s getting better. At least this is only his first sleepless night in about a week. We can’t win all the time, huh?

Exhausted but unable, unwilling, to close his eyes again, he watches Gale in the dim light of the bedside lamp. It’s fucking unfair, but at least he has this.

Gale is still fast asleep, peacefully laying on his side with his hands tucked up under his head. Bucky’s actual angel in disguise. He loves the way Gale’s messy hair falls down over his forehead and his lips part ever so slightly. The way he curls his legs up towards his chest just the littlest bit. Bucky wants to wrap him up in his arms and hold on forever. He focuses on watching Gale’s breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It reassures him that, no matter what his unconscious mind tries to tell him, Gale is here. He’s the picture of health. He’s alive, and he’s all Bucky’s. He’s not about to get taken away in the blink of an eye. Gently, Bucky reaches out and strokes Gale’s soft hair. Gale smiles in his sleep, and it makes Bucky smile, too. He thinks to himself that he’d do everything over again if it meant he’d end up here.

When he pulls his hand away, Gale scrunches his brow and frowns. Bucky blinks, hand hovering in the air, waiting to see if Gale’s face will soften again. It doesn’t. Instead, Gale starts nervously clenching and unclenching his jaw. Bucky’s heart sinks and he reaches back out, places his hand on the side of Gale’s head again, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Gale’s breathing picks up, faster, faster. He screws his eyes shut tight and makes a soft, wounded sort of grunting sound as one of his hands curls into a tight fist under his face. 

Bucky runs his hand reassuringly over his hair the way Gale likes when he’s awake, trying to calm him down. It takes a minute, but his breathing starts to slow again, and then his eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy with worried sleep. He scrunches his nose unhappily.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly.

Gale’s eyes find his. He tries to smile, but it’s just not quite there. “Hey.” Slowly, he sits up, the sheets falling down away from his chest so they sit in his lap as he leans forward, hands on his knees. He’s wearing a thin light gray t-shirt, but under it Bucky can see the chain around his neck and the outline of dog tags swinging against the fabric. Bucky is wearing his, too. They still haven’t quite gotten out of the habit. Oddly enough, they both have found that they often sleep better with them on.

Gale scrubs at his face with one hand and brushes his hair back away from his eyes. He checks the clock on the bedside table. 3:30 AM. Looking over at Bucky, he frowns. His voice is low and gravelly from sleep and carries a sort of guilt that Bucky wants to whisk away. “Did I wake you?”

Bucky shakes his head as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. “Was already up.”

“Mmm.” Gale nods and looks down at his lap, takes a deep breath. “What was yours about?”

They’d started doing this recently. Talking about their bad dreams. For a long time, neither of them wanted to give voice to what was in their heads. They wanted to push it away, ignore it, move on. Didn’t want to bug each other with it, add more weight to the burdens they already carried. Lately, though, they’d found that at least briefly putting words to it, saying it out loud to someone who would understand, helped them move forward a little easier. Instead of weighing more heavily on each other, talking about it lifted some of the burden away.

Bucky scratches the back of his head and sighs. “I-” Shit. It never really got easier to talk about, though. “I jumped from the fort, you know? And they were shooting at me, but they didn’t get me. I was still there. But. I looked over.” He glances up at Gale, who is looking vaguely in the direction of Bucky’s dog tags. Bucky breathes. “I looked over, and you were there, too. And I saw you, and I called your name, but you wouldn’t answer me. You wouldn’t answer. And then, I saw that you were dead. Hanging from your chute. A bullet hole through your…”

Bucky trails off, like the breath was pushed all out of his lungs before he could say the last word. He shuts his eyes tight and smacks a fist against his knee. Then there’s gentle fingers on his hand. A thumb stroking over his knuckles. I’m here, the touch says. Bucky nods. He knows. He just wishes his brain would start believing it.

“Mine was about the kid Nazi in the woods,” Gale says. This was one of his more frequent dreams, about the kids who killed George, the kid who pointed a gun at Gale’s head. In the dream, Gale doesn’t give him the chance to run. Bucky knows it by now, but he lets Gale say it anyway. He squeezes Gale’s hand back. Neither of them are looking at each other. Sometimes it’s easier that way. “I shot him,” Gale breathes out. “A kid. Just a kid. And I shot him.”

When Bucky looks up again, Gale is looking right at him, his face a mess of sadness and resignation, searching for something, anything, to make it go away. Bucky leans forward and pulls him in close, wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders. “You didn’t, though,” he whispers.

Gale nods. “And I’m here.”

“You wanna try to go back to sleep?” Bucky asks him. Gale just about scoffs, burying his face deeper in Bucky’s neck. Bucky laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, me neither.” He pats Gale on the side and pulls away. “Come on.”

Hand in hand – a tether proving to each other that they’re there, they’re safe, they’re not alone – they walk out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, turning on the lights. Bucky makes a show of how painfully bright they are even as he eyes the liquor cabinet in the corner. Gale shakes his head wordlessly and guides him away from it. He’d been so nervous since they came home, since the nightmares started in earnest, that Bucky would turn to alcohol to numb the pain. Months later, Gale still makes every effort to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’s thankful every day that Bucky tries his best, and that he lets Gale step in as his moral compass when the nights get hard. Bucky has no idea where he’d be by now if Gale wasn’t here with him.

So instead, Bucky pushes himself up to sit on the kitchen counter, fingers tapping nervously on his thigh, while Gale goes about making tea. Bucky never used to like tea, but he isn’t allowed to have alcohol after a nightmare and Gale insisted that coffee wouldn’t help matters either. So he lets him make him tea, and eventually he had learned to like it simply because it came from Gale when he needed Gale most. 

They don’t always wake up on the same nights. Often now, it’s one or the other at a time. And not all the dreams make it impossible to fall back asleep either, thank God. But sometimes, when they’re bad, they’ll wake each other up because they just can’t be alone. It’s an unspoken agreement: it doesn’t matter what they have going on or what time of night it is; if one of them needs the other, they’ll stay awake together. No exceptions. Every once in a while, though, like now, the night turns on both of them. Often, they barely talk on nights like these. Words tend to feel empty; they’ve all already been said. They just need to be. To touch, to feel, to breathe. They just need the closeness and the care. They need each other, and that has to be enough.

Gale hands Bucky a mug full of tea, and Bucky spreads his legs open so Gale can stand between them. Gale tries not to look too intently at the tags dangling over Bucky’s bare chest, and he raises his own mug. “Cheers.”

Bucky half smiles and raises his mug to clink against Gale’s before taking a sip, letting the comforting warmth run through his body. He closes his eyes for a moment and feels the heat radiating from Gale standing in front of him, so close they’re almost touching. When he turns his head and looks out the kitchen window, he can see stars. So many stars, a constant the past few years no matter where on the Earth he’s been. Everything is quiet. He drinks his tea.

After a while, Gale sets his mug on the counter and leans his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky sets his mug down, too, and places his hand on the back of Gale’s head, running his fingers soothingly through his hair. Then, carefully, he slides down off the counter so they’re face to face, and Gale wraps his arms up over Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky rests his head against Gale’s, cheek pressed to soft hair. Gale is not particularly small, but Bucky is still bigger than him, and he takes comfort in being wrapped securely in his arms. Like somehow, Bucky can be a shield, protecting him from all of the bad things in his own head.

When Bucky starts swaying, Gale raises an eyebrow even though his face is hidden in Bucky’s neck. “What are you doing?” he mumbles.

“Dancing,” Bucky says matter of factly. It’s somewhat less convincing because he yawns in the middle of the word and has to say it again.

“Why are we dancing?”

Bucky lifts his head up, kisses Gale’s forehead, and leans back as much as he can so he can look him in the eyes. “Why not?”

Gale rolls his eyes, but he smiles. It’s small, but it’s real, and Bucky smiles back.

They dance all around the kitchen, first just swaying, going in circles to the music in Bucky’s head. Then Gale slips away to put a record on in the living room – it starts on Blue Skies, Bucky’s comfort song – and when he comes back Bucky grabs him by the waist and spins him around. Gale laughs even as he nearly loses his balance and grabs onto Bucky’s arms again. Neither of them are very good, and they’re even worse together, but they do it anyway. And soon they’ve stepped and turned and spun their way into the living room. Bucky has tried to lift and spin Gale around in the air no fewer than three times. Gale has tried to twirl Bucky to no avail, to the point of stepping on each other’s feet and stumbling into each other’s arms. Until eventually, they collapse onto the couch, half laying on one another, and their eyes are still tired but they’re brighter again. 

Bucky crawls forward and kisses Gale softly, slowly, before laying his head on his chest. Gale rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s back, wondering how on Earth he isn’t cold. Gale hasn’t had much tolerance for cold since the Stalag. It feels bone-deep and he often finds himself shivering even when it’s warm, unless he has something covering his body. He takes comfort in the warmth of Bucky’s skin, though, lets it calm his senses as they match their breathing to one another.

The last thing Gale hears before he falls asleep is a whispered, “I love you,” and he smiles.

[alienoresimagines]

Buck: Bucky, you can't keep using humor to deflect your trauma.

Bucky, lighting up: You think I'm funny?

Buck: ...

Buck: Is that the only thing you got from this?

Bucky, still smiling: So it's true? You think I'm funny!

[johnslittlespoon]

– i'm only really me, when i'm here with you. ⋆｡˚ ✈︎

[buckyalpine]

Bucky comfort. What I need like air right now is a sweet, chubby baker Bucky who notices his bunny is down. She doesn't say anything out of the ordinary when she comes to visit the bakery, kissing his soft scruffy cheek before taking a seat at the booth with a fresh Danish he made.

Cherry, because that's her favorite.

He can tell something is off when her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes and she's curled up in his hoodie quietly nibbling on the pastry instead of clinging onto him like she usually does.

He doesn't like it. Not one bit.

He loves when his girl hugs his thick waist tightly from behind while his works at the dough and rolls out croissants. Her little hands usually knead at the fluff around his belly. Instead she seems to be in her own world, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and pushing herself further into her seat to hide from the rest of world. You tell him you have to run a few errands and he doesn't miss your steamy eyes and small voice as you scurry off out of the bakery and it just adds to his worry.

Bucky was having none of that.

He lets Sam and Steve take over a couple of his orders, cleaning off and deciding to go straight home to you instead, he knows you don't actually have errands to do, he always makes sure to take care of them anyway. When he arrives back home, he isn't surprised to see your smaller form curled in a ball on the couch, eyes wide, surprised to see him.

"Bucky?" the quiver in your voice gives away that you'd been crying moments earlier.

"C'mere baby bunny" Bucky cooed, scooping you up in his beefy arms, and cradling your body to his, holding you to his chest while you nuzzle into his neck. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that little head of yours" He whispered against your hair, stroking it while you pull back, giving him a shrug. He knows you don't always want to talk about it but he's going to do what he can to make you feel better

"I'm not sure" You say with a sigh, your mind still running around a thousand miles a minute. Nothing particularly bad happened but one thought led to another; questioning if you were happy with your job, if you were happy with where you were in life, if you were someone Bucky would actually even want to be with, someone so sweet and loving and handsome like him, all your friends seemed to have found their footing and you were still here so unsure-

"Shhh" he kissed your forehead as if he could hear your insecurities screaming at you from inside your head. "What do you need sweet girl" His lips brush against the top of your head, breathing in your soft scent of peach body wash and vanilla lotion. He has you perfectly tucked into his much larger form, as if he were trying to protect his baby bunny from the rest of the world.

"Cuddles?" You cling onto him, sighing contently when he shifts so he can wrap you up in his arms while you bury your face into his chest. Everything about him is so comforting, if you could find a way to burrow yourself into him, you would. Your wiggling and shifting to get even closer makes Bucky chuckle, cooing at the whine you let out when he pulls away.

"Not going anywhere bunny, just getting us more comfortable" You're not sure how he does it but with minimal effort and movement he's helped you strip off all your clothes along with his, tossing the fluffy throw to cover you both up. You love feeling his bare skin against yours, practically purring now that you can feel every bit of him.

The rumble of your stomach doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky and he makes sure to wrap you up in a blanket burrito before getting up and padding over to the kitchen.

"Where are you going now" You pout and he cups your face with the gentlest touch.

"You're hungry bub, I'm just getting a snacky" and with that he walks off, grinning at the giggle you let out watching his perfectly perky ass saunter off.

"Yummyy" You wiggle happily from under your blanket at both the sight of you very pretty, very naked boyfriend carrying in a plate of more Danishes and a bunch of other pastries and fruit he grabbed on the way out when he left the bakery.

Bucky adores seeing you like this, setting down the snacks so he can hold you again when you give him grabby arms. He doesn't let you lift a fingers, feeding you another Danish, kissing the crumbs that clung onto your lips. He runs you a bath next. His bunny doesn't feel like moving much so he's happy to carry you there while you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear.

By the end of the night he loves seeing the light return to your eyes, your soft giggles when he has you perched on the bathroom counter doing your skin care routine with him.

"Keep your little paws to yourself, doll" Bucky swats away your hands when you reach for the lotion, taking over the job for himself. He's more than happy to massage up and down your calves to your thighs. He massages all the knots out of your back and shoulders before carrying you off to bed again for more cuddles and kisses.

Anyway, this was sitting in the drafts for weeds and it's still what I need rn.

[traveler-at-heart]

You're ok

Summary: As you recover from a life threatening mission, Natasha struggles to be vulnerable.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Edit: The last part is a scene from The Diplomat's season 2. Highly recommend the show, as it also has our lovely Ali Ahn ( AKA Alice Wu)

Death is part of the job. You had always been prepared for it.

Failure and a slow recovery were things that you were less inclined to accept.

It was hard to deal with the fact you had been ambushed, and almost killed by a bomb in what was supposed to be an easy mission.

Two weeks after being confined to the sterile hospital walls you’re back at the Compound. Bucky offered to help, carrying your things and lending his arm as support.

You certainly didn’t expect the rest of the Avengers on the foyer, excited to greet you.

“Don’t make a fuss” you say, letting them hug you. Wanda rolls her eyes, taking your bag.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive. We’re gonna make a fuss”

“Just for today, let us make a big deal out of this” Steve says.

You had seen all of your teammates when they visited at the hospital, with one notable exception.

Said exception walks through the door, the hint of a smile on her beautiful face as your eyes meet green ones.

“Welcome back” Natasha says, her tone gentle.

“Thank you”

“Romanoff might like you, she almost smiled” Tony says, but you don’t pay him attention.

“That’s just because I thought you weren’t here” Natasha walks past him, squeezing your good arm as a silent goodbye. How you wish you could follow after her, ask why she didn’t even stop by once, but she’s hurrying out the room in record time, as if she can sense your intentions.

Truthfully, you won’t act on them. Natasha doesn’t owe you anything, not even a get well card.

“Let’s get you settled in your new room” Tony becons, and you frown.

“New room? What happened to the old one?”

“This one has some improvements. You’re gonna love it”

It’s evident he still feels guilty over what happened, though it was definitely not his fault that you almost got killed.

The new room has a mini fridge, a giant tv, a king size bed, and a small couch. It also has a huge bathtub, as well as an incredible view of the forest behind the Compound.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s… I’m perfectly fine going back to my old room”

“Can I have it if she doesn’t want it?” Sam intervenes, looking around the space.

“Come on, you’re gonna be using crutches for a while. You need a bigger space. And entertainment”

“It’s true” Steve says. “Of course we all want to be optimistic but…”

The doctors had said it would take at least six weeks to get you walking without aid. And then, you’d have to train and get back in shape. You are looking at two or three months of recovery.

It’s not that you dislike the bigger space or amenities. It’s the fact that Natasha was closer to you in the other room, and so you’d meet her most mornings as you’d step out to hit the gym or make breakfast.

Now, not only is she emotionally distant, she’s also physically away. And you don’t know which is worse.

“I’ll give it a try” you promise, though you know nothing will be better than your old room.

—

There are unexpected challenges that come with your injuries. Like cooking breakfast. Wanda is more than happy to help most days, but she’s been out for a mission the past week. You could have stuck to cereal, except Steve is always around by the time you wake up, and he insists on making your breakfast.

It’s a nice gesture, though the food is horrible.

You’ve spent the better part of your morning  playing with your eggs, considering eating cereal again, when someone places a cup of coffee and a paper bag next to you.

“I don’t know who told Steve he could cook” Natasha says with a smile.

“He means well” you answer, and wait for her to nod towards the bag to inspect its contents. Grilled cheese and a scone. Your mouth waters at the smell.

“You’re amazing, Natasha, honestly” you say between bites, moaning at the taste. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something this good. Except Wanda’s food, of course”

“Enjoy” she says, taking away the plate with eggs for you.

You were hoping to have her company while you eat, but maybe that’s too much to hope for.

—

At last, there’s something you can do. While everyone is busy with missions, you focus on reports and intelligence, which is perfect, because all you have to do is sit and read.

There are still deadlines and though no one wants to put pressure on you, you make sure nothing is delayed. As you keep reading in one of the conference rooms, the door is pushed open and you look up, alarmed at the sudden intrusion.

“Yes?” you say, pushing your glasses up, staring at Natasha. She turns around, struggling to speak.

“Y-you should be resting”

“I’m doing Bucky’s reports. You know how he is, he can’t type anything in the computer”

“It’s close to midnight. Have you even had dinner yet? I’m sure he won’t mind if you do them later”

“Nat. It’s fine, honestly” you say, smiling at her awkwardness. “I like to feel useful”

She nods, looking around the room, as if weighting her options. Moving away from the door, she walks and sits next to you, checking out some of the paperwork you’re reviewing

“Someone should have really taught James how to type” she mutters when she gets to the part where Bucky wrote target pulled out a cock instead of Glock.

You snort out a laugh, because it’s the dumbest fucking thing in the world.

“Ten bucks if you leave it like that” she insists and you shake your head.

“I considered it but then Tony wouldn’t know when to stop the teasing”

“Fair” she tilts her head, still smiling at you.

It’s obvious now that Natasha’s staying to make sure you go back to rest soon. So you enjoy the silence that comes with her presence, thinking this might be a step in the right direction.

But then, you stretch your arms above your head, forgetting about the stitches in your side until you feel a pull.

“Fuck” you bend over in pain, and Natasha is by your side in an instant. “It’s ok. I just stretched too hard. Forgot I still have a hole on my side”

Natasha’s hands hold on to the edge of the table, as if she’s struggling between storming out and staying.

“You should get some rest now” she manages to say, eyes not meeting your own.

“I’m fine”

Natasha gets ready to argue, but then reconsiders and just nods.

“I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight”

The redhead leaves the room in a hurry, and you wonder what could have possibly made her so upset.

For the next few days, you don’t see Natasha at all, and a part of you is certain she’s avoiding you.

As you lay in bed, watching a movie with Wanda, you keep going back to your interaction. Did you say something offensive? Was she simply too repulsed by weakness and didn’t know how to deal with it?

Is she avoiding me? Am I overthinking?

“She is and you are” Wanda says, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“But why… now wait a minute” you click your tongue, looking at your friend.

“I didn’t mean to, your thoughts are so loud. And so are Natasha’s. When you came back she was having a screaming match inside her head”

“What do you mean? What was she thinking?”

“No, that’s where I draw the line. If you want to know, ask her”

“If I ever see her again, sure” you mutter, though you know you lack the confidence to confront Natasha. Even if you had the chance, what’s there to say? "Hey, why are you making sure we only see each other when strictly necessary?"

She doesn’t like you, that’s the only explanation. Natasha is just being polite to keep appearances and the screaming inside her head was probably her thinking how much she wished you were still at the hospital.

Wanda snorts next to you, making you glare.

“Outta my head”

“Hey, I’m trying to watch the movie. You’re the one that needs to keep it quiet up there”

A few days later and you still have no idea how to approach Natasha. Mind you, she’s only been around the kitchen to get coffee once or twice, spending the rest of her time in missions or at the gym across the Compound.

The only time you’re not thinking about her is when the physical pain is distracting you. Like now, while changing your bandages. The doctors told you to get someone to help, but you already get help with food, laundry, even changing your god damn sheets. You’ll be damned if you ask for help with this.

“Fuckfuckfuck” you clearly did something wrong because the dressing is stuck around the edges. You pull again, but the pain is too much, so you plop down in bed. There’s a knock at the door, and you groan, which will hopefully make whoever’s on the other side go away.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Natasha says, rushing to your side.

“Can’t change my bandages” you say, not caring if your incompetence upsets her.

“Can I look?”

You nod, sitting up so she can see for herself the mess you’re in. Her hands are surprisingly soft and tender, and you’re almost dozing off while Natasha works silently.

Except when there’s a tug and you jump back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’ll be just one painful pull, ok?” the woman says, one of her hands going to your cheek. Your eyes meet and the way she’s looking at you almost makes the pain go away.

“Ok” you nod. Natasha takes it off in a swift movement, and all you can do is take a sharp breath as your skin stings. “Fuck me” you say through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think you’d enjoy it that much with the state you’re in” she jokes, which makes you smile.

“You know what I mean”

“Just teasing”

“You’re certainly good”

Natasha keeps working in silence, and you worry you may have crossed a line. When she’s done, she picks up the trash and goes to throw it away.

“Ask for help next time”

“I need help for everything. I wanted to at least do something on my own without being a burden”

“You’re not a burden” she says, her back to you as she washes her hands on the sink.

Something comes over you, and when Natasha walks by your side to exit the room, your hand shoots up to hold her wrist.

“Y/N?”

“I… I missed you. I know we’re colleagues and all I do is share whatever meal I’m having, or train with you from time to time. I know I can’t really do any of those things right now. I’m inconsequential, I know, to your life and to whatever you do. But I do miss you, Natasha. And I wish I didn’t care so much”

It feels like her skin is burning under your fingers, so you let go, ashamed at your little outburst. You’re expecting her to leave without another word but instead, she kneels to meet your eyes.

“You’re the opposite of inconsequential. But I don’t know how to care without being vulnerable”

“I don’t think that’s possible. Caring is vulnerability” you say softly. “But it’s also a strenght. It means you’re not alone”

Natasha smiles, a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. She’s about to say something else when FRIDAY calls for her at the conference room.

At this hour, it only means one thing. She stands up, looking apologetic.

“Be careful” is all you can say as she leaves the room.

—

A party is the last thing you’re in the mood for. Not only are you still wearing a cane (an improvement from the crutches) but Natasha has been gone for several days to complete a mission only a handful of people know about.

It makes you anxious, to think she might be in danger, though she is the most capable agent in the entire world.

“So glad you made it” Tony says when you finally show up. It took some convincing on Wanda’s part, but you agreed once you found an outfit that didn’t require you to wear heels.

The Avengers are at their own couch, talking and laughing. Bucky has apointed himself as your personal waiter, bringing snacks and drinks.

“Any word on Nat?” Stark asks, which distracts you from the conversation with Sam.

“Said she was still stuck at the debriefing” Steve shrugs his shoulders. It’s no surprise, if she can avoid these parties, Natasha will.

At least she’s home and safe. That brings you some peace of mind, and you’re able to enjoy the rest of the party.

Tony announces the fireworks are about to start, and you relunctantly stand next to the huge crowd assembled at the front yard of the Compound.

The first burts of color is followed by a couple of cheers.

But it’s different for you.

The booming sound, the lights, it all sets you on edge.

You’ve been around explosions before, and this had never happened. Frozen in place, you try to close your eyes and control your breathing as the noises increase your anxiety.

How you wish you could run back to your room right now, but it’s nearly impossible to walk between everyone.

“It’s ok” a voice says, and there’s the warmth of another body next to yours. “You’re ok”

“Nat” you sigh with relief, closing your eyes. Another firework explodes and you jump.

“Look at me” she says, her hand going up and down your back in a soothing motion. You nod, turning your body so she can wrap both arms around your waist. “Breathe with me”

You follow her lead, in and out, until your heartbeat is steady again.

“You’re ok” she says, this time more of a reminder to herself. “And I’m here”

“Thank you” you lean your forehead against hers, letting her decide if she wants to take that final step. Natasha smiles, a hand cupping your cheek as her lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

“I missed you too” she says when you break apart.

“I’m not going anywhere”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Protected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is always quick to protect you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Protective!Bucky, brief mention of blood, guns, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF MADE BY ME! I know it’s not perfect, but I tried

Everything around you was chaotic. Bullets and debris were flying. The sounds of guns being fired. You lost track of how many times you’ve come close almost being shot. Luckily for you, you have fast reflexes and was able to move away before the bullets hit you. Bucky was watching you from a distance. He swore he aged 10 years every time he saw a bullet come close to you before you dodged it. He’s very protective of you and doesn’t like it when you’re hurt.

“Doll, please be careful.” Bucky says to you in his earpiece.

“I am being careful, Sarge.” You say, giving him a thumbs up.

He watched you dodge another bullet shortly after saying that. Bucky took a deep breath before going back to focusing on the mission. You aimed your gun at your target and shot at him, taking him down with ease. You continued to take people down with ease till someone tackled you from behind. You yelped when you hit the concrete, knocking your gun out of your hand. Bucky heard the sound of your yelp and looked over at you.

You grunted, trying to get the guy off of you. You looked in front of you, seeing that your gun was too far out of reach for you to grab and shoot the guy. You groaned loudly. That’s when you realized you have a knife in your thigh holster. You grabbed it and reached behind you, blindly trying to stab the guy, which you did on the first try, stabbing him in the side. The guy cried out in pain and got off of you, holding his now bloody side. You rolled over onto your back, trying to regroup yourself. You were about to stand up when you heard Yelena’s voice.

“Y/N, stay down!” Yelena shouts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked in front of you, seeing a truck flying towards you. Your eyes went wide and your body froze. Your mind was telling you to get up and run, but your body wasn’t reacting. All you could do was cover your head and hope the truck didn’t squash you. That’s when you heard the sound of vibranium colliding with metal. You uncovered your head and looked up to see Bucky standing in front of you and the truck landing behind you. It didn’t take you long to realize that Bucky stopped the truck front hitting you with his vibranium arm. Bucky turned around and looked down at you. He crouched down in front of you and gave you a hug.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks softly.

You were too in shock to answer him. Bucky unwrapped his arms from your body and checked you out for any injuries. You were fine, besides the cut you have on your forehead and the scrape you have on your knee.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked him when you watched his facial expression change from a softened look to a worried look.

“You have a cut on your forehead and a scraped knee.” Bucky tells you.

You looked down at your knee, noticing a little bit of blood and your tactical pants ripped due to you scraping your knee. You assumed that was from when you got tackled to the ground not too long ago. You put a hand on your forehead, feeling some blood when you touched the cut. You took your hand away from your forehead and looked at your hand. Your eyes went wide when you seen the blood.

“I’m bleeding.” You say, beginning to panic.

“Hey, focus on me.” Bucky cupped your cheeks to get you to look at him. “You’re going to be fine, doll. I’m going to patch you up and you’ll be good as new.” He promises.

You stared in his blue eyes and nodded your head. Bucky picked you up bridal style and took you inside of a building to get you patched up. He sat you down on a chair and went to find a first aid kit, which he found with ease. When he came back, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of you. He started with the scrape on your knee and put your leg across his lap.

“That’s going to sting.” You whimpered softly, watching him put some alcohol on a cotton ball.

“You can hold onto me if you want.” Bucky says.

You put one of your hands on his vibranium shoulder, preparing yourself for the stinging you’re about to feel on your knee. You hissed and winced when you felt the alcohol in the scrape, your nails digging in his black t-shirt. As Bucky was patching you up, realization hit you and your eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks softly with concern in his voice.

“That truck could’ve crushed me.” You say, still in shock.

“But it didn’t.” He says.

“What if it did?” You asked, thinking the worst.

Your mind was making you think the worst. Bucky stopped patching you up momentarily to gently cup your cheeks, getting you to look in his blue eyes.

“Hey, no. Don’t go there.” Bucky coos softly. “I stopped the truck from hitting you. I kept you safe.” He says.

Bucky kissed your forehead softly before going back to patching you up. You couldn’t help but watch him.

“Something on your pretty little mind, doll?” Bucky asks, not looking up from your scraped knee.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky stopped what he was doing when you gently caressed his bearded cheek and looked up at you. Before either of you knew it, your lips were on his. He was caught by surprise, but kissed you back. It took you a few seconds to realize what you were doing and pulled your lips away from his.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky asks.

“Cause I kissed you.” You say.

You were caught by surprise when Bucky kissed you softly. You two were so into the kiss that you guys didn’t hear Yelena walk in the room.

“Are you- oh, sorry.” Yelena apologizes, accidentally walking in on you and Bucky kissing.

You and Bucky quickly pulled away from each other and looked at Yelena with the look of embarrassment on your faces.

“I was gonna ask if Y/N is ok, but you two are clearly busy. I’ll come back later.” She says before walking out of the room.

You and Bucky bursted out laughing. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder.

“That wasn’t our finest moment.” Bucky says.

“Agreed.” You say, leaning your forehead against his shoulder.

After the little awkward moment, Bucky went back to patching you up, which didn’t take too long.

“There you go.” Bucky smiles. “See, I told you’d be good as new after you’re patched up.” He says, lighting up the mood.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He says.

“Also, thank you for saving me from that truck almost hitting me.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I just want you to be protected.” He says softly, kissing your forehead, making you smile.

“If that person protecting me is you, I’ll be so protected.” You say, smiling up at him.

“I feel honored to be that person.” Bucky says, smiling back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[bandsofmarv]

Something more

You and Bucky have been best friends for years, even sharing an apartment together. When you go on a date with someone new will bucky’s unexpected jealousy lead to confessions.

Warning - none just fluff and angst

The soft glow of the Brooklyn sunset filtered through the curtains of your small apartment as you finished getting ready. The excitement bubbling in your chest was impossible to ignore—you hadn’t been on a real date in ages.

“Do I look okay?” you called out, spinning in front of your best friend, Bucky Barnes, who was sitting on your couch, flipping through a magazine he had no real interest in.

Bucky’s steel-blue eyes lifted, and for a moment, he said nothing. His gaze trailed from your shoes to your carefully styled hair, lingering just long enough to make you feel self-conscious.

“You look fine,” he muttered, turning back to the magazine.

“Just fine?” You frowned, smoothing your dress. “Gee, thanks for the glowing review.”

“You’re fishing for compliments now?” he shot back with a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your purse. “Don’t wait up.”

“Who’s this guy again?” Bucky asked casually, though his tone carried an edge you couldn’t miss.

“His name’s Kyle. We met at the coffee shop,” you explained. “He’s really nice. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

Bucky grunted in response, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened. But you didn’t press it. He’d been acting weird since you told him about the date, but you chalked it up to his usual overprotectiveness.

————————————————————————

The date was fine. Kyle was sweet, charming even, but you couldn’t help the way your mind kept drifting—to Bucky. His lopsided grin when he teased you, the way he always remembered your coffee order, the rare moments when he let his guard down and let you see the vulnerable man beneath the super-soldier exterior.

By the time Kyle walked you to your door, you knew your heart wasn’t in it. You thanked him politely, dodging a goodnight kiss with a friendly hug, and stepped inside.

Bucky was still there.

He was sitting in the same spot on the couch, but his magazine was abandoned, and his metal hand was tapping an impatient rhythm against his thigh. His head snapped up when you entered, and he stood quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Back already?”

“Yeah,” you said, slipping off your heels. “It was… nice.”

“Nice, huh?” He scoffed, his jaw clenching again. “That why you’re home so early?”

You frowned, dropping your purse on the counter. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He stepped closer, his voice rising slightly. “You go out with some guy you barely know, and I’m supposed to just sit here and be okay with it?”

You stared at him, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t you be okay with it? You’re my best friend, Bucky. You’re supposed to be supportive.”

“Best friend,” he repeated bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “Is that all I am to you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

He sighed, the frustration and jealousy etched on his face melting into something softer, more vulnerable. “I’m talking about the fact that seeing you with someone else makes me feel like I’m gonna lose my damn mind. That I can’t stand the thought of you looking at him the way I wish you’d look at me.”

“Bucky…”

“I know I should’ve said something sooner,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “But I was scared. Scared of ruining what we have. Scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you deserve someone good,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “And I wasn’t sure I’d ever be good enough for you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stepped closer, reaching up to cup his face. “Bucky, you idiot. You’ve always been good enough.”

His breath hitched, his hands hovering hesitantly at your waist as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Does that mean—?”

“Yes,” you said, cutting him off with a smile. “It means yes.”

Relief and something deeper flooded his expression as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I waited so long.”

“Just don’t make me wait any longer,” you whispered, and before you could second-guess yourself, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent, years of unspoken feelings pouring into the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he grinned—the boyish, lopsided grin you’d always loved.

“Guess I owe Kyle a thank-you,” he joked, and you laughed, swatting his arm. “Shut up and kiss me again, Barnes.”

And he did, making up for all the lost time.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Stitched Together

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so... ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn't seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky's nurse whenever he gets hurt.

A/N: Based off my mini fic here.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You were used to it by now. In the morning, you'd go into work at the hospital. The pediatrics unit was filled with light and color. You made sure to bring as much joy and light into the lives of the children you helped every day. Then when you came home, you'd do work for the darker side of life.

Bucky Barnes was born for this life. Being the first born son of George Barnes, the position of head of the Barnes Family was immediately his.

But growing up he didn't act like that life was for him. You would know since you two knew each other since you were thirteen. You grew up in the same neighborhood. It wasn't until you turned sixteen that you started dating. You knew who his father was, your own dad knew who his family was. As a detective, he told you time and time again that you needed to stay away from him. Being a hormonal and rebellious teenager, you never listened. You should've.

At eighteen years old was when Bucky killed for the first time. Because he was now a man, his father put him up in a cage fight with another man. It was kill or be killed.

He wasn't the same after. He began to push you away, keep things from you, act like a complete asshole.

Then enough was enough. You broke up with him and even though he hurt you, you never told your father the things Bucky told you. Especially after your father became the chief of police.

You two were ignorant with the roles you had to play in your youth, but reality hit you right when you became adults. You became the dutiful daughter of the chief of police, went to university to become a nurse. You stopped keeping track of Bucky's life, but would hear updates along the grapevine every once in a while.

You were there when George Barnes passed. Well, not necessarily in the room, but you were at the hospital when he passed. You were coming up from your break when you saw Bucky at the elevators. He looked upset.

"Bucky?"

He turned at the sound of his name, "Sw-Y/N. Hey."

"Is everything okay?"

"Uh, my dad. He-He had a heart attack. I'm-He-" you could see how distressed he was, so you pulled him in for a hug.

"Whatever happens, you'll be okay," you whispered in his ear.

He fell limp in your arms. You didn't know it then, but Bucky missed you like crazy and being in your arms again that night saved him from spiraling.

It's later that night that George Barnes dies. After everything he's done and been through, a heart attack was what killed him.

Karma, is what your dad said.

Despite the position George Barnes held, he was well-loved around the city due to him caring for the community. The streets were filled during the procession, your dad and his men keeping an eye out in case anything happened. You were also there for the funeral. You caught glimpse of Bucky and you couldn't breathe for a moment. He was clearly tired and you couldn't blame him, considering how things have been going for him lately.

Despite your father warning you to not make contact with him, you felt like you should.

"I'm sorry, again for your loss, Buck."

He gives you a tired smile, "Thank you again for showing up, Y/N. I-I know your dad probably didn't want you to come."

"He doesn't control every aspect of my life."

"Still. I really appreciate you being here."

"Of course. It's always hard when you lose someone you love." You would know since you lost your mother when you were young.

"Bucky," Sam, Bucky's right hand, calls his name and urges him to follow him.

"I gotta-"

"It's okay. Hope things aren't too stressful for you."

"Thank you. I'll see you around," he says as he departs. You didn't know just how soon you'd end up seeing him.

Three days later, to be exact.

It was late at night when there was a knock at your door. You hold your knife close as you peer through the peep hole of your door. Your eyes widen when you immediately pull the door open.

"Holy shit!" you whisper loudly as Sam drags a bleeding Bucky into your home.

"He didn't want to go to the hospital since we don't know whose people might be working there. So he told me to bring him here."

You guide Sam to your couch where Bucky slumps onto it, "Sorry, Y/N. I didn't know who else to trust right now." You turn on all the nights in your apartment and get a look at him. There's a stab wound in his shoulder. It looks like the bleeding slowed though.

You help Bucky out of his jacket and shirt. You apologize profusely for the pain he's going through.

He dryly chuckles, "You know, when I dreamt about you stripping me, I didn't think it'd be in this context."

You pause and look at him, "You dream about me?"

"You haunt my mind, Y/N." He must be delusional due to the blood loss. Before his father's passing, you hadn't seen nor spoke to him in years. There's no way he'd still be thinking about you after all this time, right?

"I'll be back. I need to grab my first aid kit." You rush to your bathroom and grab the small duffle of all your first aid necessities.

You also grab a bottle of vodka and hand it to Bucky, "Drink up, buttercup."

He frowns and looks at the bottle, "Thought you hated vodka."

"It's not my bottle. America left it from a party I held here," you mumble as you pull on some gloves and begin to clean around his wound. You work in silence as Bucky takes swigs from the bottle. Sam watches from the corner of the room, staying out of your way.

While you work, Bucky takes in your apartment. He takes in the pictures, the decor, the trinkets you have around. This is exactly how he'd imagine your place to be.

"Hey, still with me?" you ask as you begin to thread your needle.

"Yup."

"Okay. This might hurt-"

"Probably not as much as getting stabbed."

You can't help but snort a laugh as you get ready to start stitching Bucky's wound. He grins at the sound of your laughter and you see the sliver the Bucky you once knew.

For the most part, Bucky didn't make much of a sound while you worked. He just kept his eyes on you, taking in every furrowed brow, every twitch of your lip. After all these years, you are still just as beautiful as before.

His heart lurches at what's become of you two. You're practically strangers again after spending so many years apart. His own doing really.

Scared of what could happen to you as he fell deeper into the family business. That's why he behaved the way that he did all those years ago. He was protecting you.

Because after all this time, Bucky Barnes still loves you.

"Alright. We're done. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," he mumbles as he tries to sit up, but you keep him down.

"Then sleep. You and your bodyguard can stay here for the night."

The man in the corner snorts, "My name's Sam and I am not his bodyguard."

"Sorry, Sam, you and Bucky are free to sleep here for the night." Sam simply nods.

"You don't have to do this. If your dad finds out-"

"He won't. I won't tell him. And you're hurt, Bucky. Doesn't matter what you do or who you are, I can't, in good conscience, let you leave without knowing you'll be okay after this. Just-Just take this as me wanting to observe my patient for the night."

He settles further onto your couch with defeat, "Alright...you know you should've been a doctor."

"Didn't have the time or money to get my doctorate."

"I can help with the money-"

You shake your head, "It's fine, Buck. I'm happy with my job."

"Just..if you need anything, I'm here to help. That's what my dad for the people of this city and that's what I want to continue to do."

"I know. Thanks."

You stand, collecting your things, "I have some spare blankets, pillows, and toiletries. Lemme grab them."

"Okay," he says and watches as you walk to your bedroom.

Sam moves closer, "So that's her."

"Yeah."

"She's nice."

"Yup."

"And beautiful."

Bucky whips his head to Sam, glaring at him, "Watch it."

Sam holds his hands up, "I can appreciate a beautiful face, man. Besides, she's not yours anymore."

"You know how I feel about her."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you." Sam says as he plops onto your sofa chair.

You come back with pillows and blankets in arms, "The couch is a pull out, soooo you two will have to share."

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sleeping on the floor."

You snicker, "Okaaay, uh, I have a couch in my room that one of you can take too."

Sam and Bucky look at each other and Sam immediately goes, "I call this bed!" he points to the couch that Bucky's laying on.

Bucky rolls his eyes and you chuckle, "Actually, I think I'd rather have you near me, Bucky, just in case you pull a stitch or start feeling pain again."

"If you're okay with that," he says with a shrug.

"It'll be fine," you respond as you help him sit up and then help him to his feet. He follows you to your bedroom where you show him the couch. You point to the adjoining bathroom, you can take a shower there. I already set out stuff for you and Sam."

"Thanks, Y/N. I really do appreciate it."

"Just doing my civic duty, Buck," you say with a small smile.

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Right. Of course."

"Oh!" you grab a pile of clothes and hold them out, "Here. They're my dad's for some of the nights he stays over."

Bucky can't help but snicker, "If your dad knew-"

"I know," you say with a playful roll of his eyes, "But he's not here and he won't ever know I'm helping you. So go, shower, be careful around your stiches. Call me if you need anything," you turn to set up Bucky's sleeping arrangement, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?" you ask when you face him again.

He looks at you with soft blue eyes as he murmurs, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, "Go. Wash all that blood off you."

"Alright," he says and grabs the clothes, going into your bathroom. When the door shuts, you fall onto your bed to give yourself a moment.

A few days ago, you went years without seeing or hearing from Bucky. Now you've seen him twice in less than a week and it's throwing your mind in for a loop.

Hopefully, this will only be a one time thing and you two can go back to being strangers again.

[bucky-obsessed]

He just wanted plums!

[embbarnes]

Filthy Fingers.

summary: You check on Bucky after the mission in Madripoor.

warnings: Angst | TFATWS!Bucky | PTSD episode | Sexual trauma | Mentions of SA & SH | Slight SH | Vague descriptions of medical procedures | Swearing

a/n: Back on my bullshit with angsty fics. I wish the series had done something more than brushing this scene off as nothing. I have similar trauma with his experiences, so I sort of put my heart into this. I hope you enjoy, he needs a hug. Unedited. ;; wc: 4.4k

It horrified you, even if you knew about it prior.

After the mission, you searched for Bucky upon returning to the safehouse that Zemo had insisted on using. Bucky had already retreated to the bedroom you both shared, locking himself inside. You knew something was wrong, you knew him better than anyone honestly. He had barely muttered a few words about feeling exhausted before withdrawing from the group. The locked door and his sudden disappearance had you concerned about his well-being, especially considering the shitty mission you had done.

Zemo pushed Bucky to act as the Winter Soldier again, the man took great pride in being his handler and controlling him like a puppet, just as HYDRA had done. He relished in ordering him to attack and heel like a dog, and his cruel comments about using his body, about selling him in exchange for information, made you furious. Sam didn’t quite get the depth of the situation, though he had a good idea, he just didn’t know the extent. He didn’t want to ask.

Bucky’s behavior back at the house seemed unusual, even for someone typically reserved like himself, and you couldn't decide what to do, debating whether to check on him or give him the space he seemed to desperately need.

You also had to fight the urge to break Zemo's jaw.

As deep night fell over the city, a hush descended upon the streets. Sam and Zemo, too, decided to call it a night, bidding their farewells before retiring to their respective rooms. You found yourself alone in the kitchen, the sudden quietness of the house sounded so loud in your ears. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made the decision to head towards the bedroom. Your footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as you approached the door.

Your knuckles gently rapped against the wooden surface as you announced your presence. The sound seemed to hang in the air for a moment before you slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. You stepped into the dimly lit room, your eyes immediately fell on Bucky. You weren’t surprised that he wasn't asleep; sleep often eluded him, and considering the memories that undoubtedly came back to him after the mission, you didn’t blame him.

He sat on the floor beside the bed, his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. His gaze was fixed intently on the wooden floorboards, tracing the intricate patterns etched into their surface. The silence in the room was heavy and Bucky remained motionless, not even lifting his eyes to acknowledge your entrance.

You closed the door with a gentle click and cautiously made your way towards him, your footsteps barely audible on the floor. As you approached, you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. "Hey..." You began, your voice barely above a whisper, carefully considering each word as you prepared to navigate this situation.

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders as you shifted your position, crossing your legs where you had been kneeling. Your eyes never left Bucky's face, searching for any sign of acknowledgment. He remained motionless, his lack of response hanging heavy in the air between you. But his stillness was preferable to a negative reaction. At least he wasn't pushing you away or lashing out in his distress.

"I know this is stupid, and it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but..." You paused, weighing your words carefully before continuing, "Do you want to talk about what's going on? About what happened?" The question left your lips in a gentle, non-pressuring tone, leaving the decision entirely up to him. You sat there patiently, ready to listen if he chose to open up, or to simply provide a comforting presence if he preferred silence.

Bucky remained silent initially, his gaze fixed intently on the floor. He drew in a shaky, uneven breath, his eyes noticeably bloodshot and surrounded by dark, heavy circles. It was obvious that he had been struggling with sleep, but you knew that even a small amount of rest would be beneficial compared to none at all, especially dealing with the Flag Smashers and all the bullshit you were both thrown into again.

"Why don't you try to lie down and get some rest? I'll stay right here with you," you suggested gently, your voice filled with concern as you waited patiently for any sort of reaction from him. After a moment of hesitation, you added, "I know you might not feel like sleeping right now, but we have so much shit we have to do tomorrow.” You mumbled, “A few hours, at least.”

Hoping to appeal to his practical nature, you attempted to persuade him to sleep by emphasizing the logical reasons for doing so. However, your efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bucky remained unresponsive. You sighed, your arm stretched up to reach for the blanket that lay haphazardly across the bed, intending to cover him and provide some comfort if he wasn’t going to sleep. Just as your fingers brushed against the soft fabric, Bucky's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I felt it," he murmured, his words so faint that you had to strain to hear them, the pain and vulnerability in his tone made your heart stutter.

You turned to look at him, your hand still grasping the edge of the blanket, and you settled back down fully on the seat. Your eyes met his, searching for understanding as you softly inquired, "Felt what?"

"Hands," he muttered, his gaze flickered momentarily before meeting yours again. "I felt... hands. On me. They weren't his," Bucky spoke slowly but with a certainty that sent a chill down your spine. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Not Zemo's hands, but I would have preferred if he didn't touch me at all during the damn interrogation." His words trailed off, hanging heavy in the air between you.

You watched as his brow furrowed deeply, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to retreat into the labyrinth of his thoughts. A maze he still couldn’t get through, he’d always be lost, stumbling upon memories randomly and losing others he had a grip on. The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken memories and the weight of past trauma.

You nodded, remaining silent for a moment as you processed the situation. The anger bubbled within you, fueled by Bucky's own emotions. Zemo's arrogant behavior had struck a nerve, his deliberate attempts to provoke Bucky were infuriating. The man was more than just an asshole in your eyes and words; he was a calculated manipulator, intent on unraveling all the progress Bucky had made.

His creepy obsession had drawn tension between the group. Zemo had persistently tried to breach Bucky's defenses, attempting to draw out the Winter Soldier persona that lay dormant within him. His tactics were cruel and precise, aimed at undoing years of healing and dragging Bucky back into the darkness of his past.

What made it so much worse was Zemo's obvious familiarity with the red book - that cursed tome that held so many of Bucky's painful secrets. You were certain Zemo had pored over every page, absorbing all the horrific details it contained. The book was a comprehensive record of Bucky's torment: control words that could strip away his free will in an instant, precise actions that would render him a puppet, and graphic descriptions of the punishments HYDRA inflicted whenever Bucky showed the slightest hint of disobedience or failure. The thought of Zemo possessing this knowledge, wielding it like a weapon against Bucky, made your blood boil.

"Bucky..." you began, your voice soft and laden with emotion. You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your empathy. "I'm so... sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for you. It's just…not fair…that you have to endure all of this. You never asked to be pushed into this shit again." There was clear frustration in your voice with a mix of anger at the circumstances and deep concern for Bucky's well-being.

Your mind drifted to the apartment you shared with Bucky, while he wasn't always at his best there either, it was a vast improvement compared to situations like this. The space was familiar. He was surrounded by sights and sounds he knew, Bucky found a measure of peace inside the walls, mostly because you were there with him. He still struggled with his demons, but within the safety of your home, he could face them without the added pressure of external threats or responsibilities that weren't rightfully his to bear.

But it seemed that no matter what, the outside world was determined to drag him back into conflict.

In your apartment, there were no manipulative villains, no reminders of his painful past, no hidden ulterior motives to hurt him, just the warmth of your presence and the promise of a better future than past. He had you, and you were always there with him, helping him navigate through the storm that always threatened to pull him down again.

"M'used to it," he mumbled weakly, his voice devoid of emotion, carrying the weight of resignation and defeat. The words fell from his lips like heavy stones of the burdens he had borne. "I've had worse than simply being traded away for sexual favors."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't just be used to it," you countered, "You didn't deserve anything they put you through. I don't care what justifications they gave or what they forced you to do. You, Bucky Barnes, are a good person. You, at your core, are pure and untainted. You are the one in control now. Not the soldier they created, not HYDRA with their manipulation, not anyone else. It's all you."

Your eyes locked onto his, your gaze gentle yet unyielding, radiating unwavering belief in him as you tried so desperately to let him see how much faith you had in him. "You've already won over their programming, Bucky. You've reclaimed yourself."

"Then why won't his memories go away?" Bucky croaked out, his voice cracking under the weight of suppressed emotion. "I want nothing more than to...to forget. It's...it's so hard, doll," his voice wavered, the floodgates of emotion threatening to burst open despite him trying his damnedest to keep it all in. "Why can't I forget the bad, and why can't I remember the good?"

Bucky sounded completely worn down, his voice cracking with heavy emotion as he spoke. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame and self-loathing washing over him. The weight of his perceived inadequacy pressed down on him, making him feel incredibly pathetic and foolish.

Your support through numerous similar episodes didn’t shake off the intense feelings of guilt and self-deprecation that consumed him during these moments. It was as if he viewed himself as nothing more than a heavy burden, a complex problem that you were obligated to solve time and time again. Even a glued vase is still cracked and much weaker than an untouched one.

No amount of reassurance or comfort seemed capable of mending his fractured psyche. He’s still broken, no matter what you do to help.

In his mind, he was irreparable, his former self having been long gone. Hell, he's not even whole. The prosthetic arm, the threatening object that he despised with every fiber of his being. Vivid, haunting memories flooded his consciousness as he recalled the moment HYDRA had finally attached the mechanical limb.

The sensation was overwhelmingly unpleasant - the arm felt unnaturally cold against his skin, its heavy weight throwing off his balance and coordination. In his disoriented state, he could feel the lifeless metal appendage hanging limply at his side, dragging him down both physically and mentally. The phantom sensations of drills and saws assaulted his senses, causing him to relive the trauma of the procedure.

Wide awake.

He was desperate to rid himself of the foreign object, so he clawed frantically at the point where metal met flesh, feeling the cold, unyielding surface beneath his fingertips. The memory of being forcibly restrained to prevent him from damaging the prosthetic flashed through his mind, the clinical indifference of his captors etched permanently behind his eyelids. It was clear to him that their sole concern lay with preserving the integrity of the mechanical marvel they had created, with no regard for the man to whom it was attached.

He was nothing more than a vessel for their prized creation - the arm was their priority, not the broken soldier who bore it.

Then their hands came.

Never-ending hands on his body, everywhere.

They always came when he couldn't fight back.

Teasing, pinching, groping, twisting, penetrating.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it -

Bucky's loud thoughts were abruptly interrupted as you reached out and gently grasped his flesh hand, your voice filled with concern as you spoke, "Bucky, hey, hey, stop... It's alright, you're safe now, it’s just you and me." The urgency in your tone was notable, yet you managed to keep it soft and reassuring.

His brow furrowed deeply, a mix of confusion and realization crossing his features as he slowly turned his gaze from you to his hand, which you now held firmly in your own, having pulled it away from his body. A searing hot sensation radiated from his scar, and with a sinking feeling, he realized what he had been doing.

He had been scratching at the old wound, hard. Clawing, digging, as if trying to remove something from his skin. His arm, the metal - titanium, vibranium - did it matter?

"It's okay, you're fine," you whispered gently, your voice acting like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. Your hands worked carefully but firmly to keep his own from returning to where he had been clawing. Your thumb gently rubbed circles on his inner wrist in an attempt to keep his mind grounded. You were always scared during these moments, worried for his well-being as the rooted fear threatened to overwhelm you.

But you pushed it down, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor for his sake. Your voice remained steady as you continued to comfort him, "It's okay... you're doing so good, Buck Buck..." The silly name slipped out naturally, reminding him of where he was and who he was with. You always called him Buck Buck instead of just saying Buck once, you knew that endearment made him think of Steve. And he didn’t like doing that with Steve being gone.

"Breathe," you gently instructed him, guiding him to take slow, deep breaths as the memories and vicious flashbacks gradually began to subside. "You're doing great, just like that. Keep focusing on your breaths." You continued to offer words of encouragement and carefully guide him through the breathing exercises, your voice soft yet steady. His eyes, now rimmed with red, glistened with moisture, the strain of the moment evident in his features.

Delicate streams of tears traced paths down his cheeks, tiny rivers carrying his pain and guiding it out of him. The sight tugged at your heart, but you remained a pillar of support and strength for him to lean on.

"Make it stop," he rasped out to you, his voice thick with desperation and fear. "Make it stop," Bucky repeated, his body instinctively moving towards you as if seeking shelter from an invisible storm. "They're on me," he added, his words barely above a whisper, laced with a haunting mixture of panic and pleading.

You immediately wrapped your arms around him the second his body touched yours, enveloping him in a protective embrace. You would always wait for him to make the first move closer, respecting his space and not wanting to inadvertently exacerbate his episodes. Your touch was gentle yet firm, grounding him in the present moment.

"No one is touching you but me, baby," you assured him, your voice steady and filled with warmth. "And I'm not doing any of those awful things. I would never. You're safe here with me, Bucky. We're getting through this, you’re doing so good. Just focus on me and taking those breaths okay?"

Bucky remained pressed against you, his body tense and trembling as he desperately attempted to hide himself inside your smaller body. His hand darted up to his shoulder, fingers curled as if to claw at something unseen. Then his hand quickly moved to his neck, desperately grasping and pulling at an invisible entity.

The frantic movements sent a chill down your spine as you watched him struggle against phantoms of his past, it never ceased to horrify you to see him react to the glimpses he was shown again from HYDRA. You tried not to let your imagination run wild, but the implications were clear and it only made you feel even worse seeing him play it out.

You felt helpless.

All you could really do during these episodes was be there for him.

Holding him close, enveloping him in a gentle embrace that provided a sense of security and reassurance, something so simple yet so luxurious in his life. Your touch was carefully calibrated, always mindful of his boundaries and sensitivities, ensuring that every contact communicated safety and understanding. You learned what he liked, disliked, what made things better and worse. You would soothe him with those very tender caresses, running your fingers through his hair or tracing calming patterns on his back, grounding him in the present moment.

Bucky really liked when you rubbed his back.

You would speak words of encouragement, your phrases were carefully chosen so they’d break through all the rampant thoughts flooding his mind. You reminded him of his resilience and progress. You whispered affirmations of his worth, validate his feelings, and reassure him of your presence and support throughout the episode.

“It’s not real, Bucky. No one is here, no one is touching you. It’s just me. You are safe.”

The efforts you put into comforting him so tenderly often felt mediocre or not enough, you always felt like nothing was ever working or meant a thing. But for Bucky, they were his lifeline, you helped him more than you could possibly fathom. Having endured these episodes alone for so long, the contrast of facing them with your loving support made them significantly easier, more manageable.

You held him for a while, gently cradling his body against your own. Most of the time, he just needed this physical connection to be brought back to reality, to feel grounded and secure again. Your arms enveloped him in a protective embrace, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Sometimes you’d wrap him in a blanket, but you didn’t think Bucky was going to let you move to grab one.

Slowly, deliberately, you moved your hands up and down his back just how he liked. Your fingertips tracing intricate, soothing patterns across the fabric of his shirt, random shapes and swirls, sometimes a letter or number that he’d weakly repeat into your chest. The repetitive motion seemed to have a calming effect on both of you, a silent reassurance that everything would be alright.

As you continued to hold him, your gaze wandered towards the window. Through the thin, gauzy curtains that hung there, you could make out the blurry silhouette of the city in the distance. The lights twinkled like earthbound stars, their glow softened and diffused by the cloudy barrier between you and the outside world. It created an almost dreamlike atmosphere in the room, emphasizing the intimate bubble you two had created. It reminded you of home.

Still whirling from the events that led to this moment, your mind gradually began to quiet. Bucky appeared to be much more relaxed, no longer breathing heavy and shaking as terribly during his attack.

"You okay?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The darkness of the room cast a deep, night blue hue, partially dulling the angry red blotches that you knew still marred Bucky's face from your sight. Bucky’s sweet, rosy nose glistened from his recent emotional turmoil.

He turned his face fully into your chest, burrowing against you as he sniffled. Amusement colored your voice as you gently teased, "Are you wiping your snot on me?" Your tone remained cautiously gentle, not wanting to upset the fragile calm that had settled over him.

Bucky's response came muffled against your chest, a small chuckle that vibrated through you. His voice was barely audible and tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Maybe..." he admitted as he pulled back and finally looked you in the eye.

You rolled your eyes, casting a concerned glance back at him as you gently used your thumbs to caress his cheeks. The tender gesture was comforting for him. "Are you okay?" You repeated. You wanted—no, needed—to hear the truth directly from him, to gauge his emotional state beyond the façade he often presented.

Bucky instinctively leaned into your touch, finding solace in the warmth of your hands against his skin. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, almost involuntarily, as he drew in a deep, shaky breath. The contrast between your warm, caring touch and his own clammy cheeks made him shiver. He allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, to absorb the comfort you offered.

"Yeah... I'm..." Bucky started, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, reconsidering his words. "I'm fine." Another pause. "I mean, no, I'm not but... you know. I'm good." The contradiction in his statement was painfully apparent. He cleared his throat, as if trying to dislodge the emotions threatening to spill out verbally, and slowly opened his eyes again.

They met yours, a swirl of conflicting emotions evident in their depths. It was a typical answer from him, a reflexive response born from decades of forced conditioning and denial of feeling. You had expected it, of course, knowing his tendency to downplay his struggles, but that didn't make it any less concerning.

"Well, it's late. Maybe we should try to get some sleep?" Your lips softly kissed his forehead, tenderly giving him some affection. As you pulled back, you looked into his eyes and reassured him, "If you say you're alright, then I believe you. I trust your judgment, and I want you to know that I'm always here for you, whenever you feel ready to talk about it. There's no pressure, no rush. And in the meantime, I'm more than happy to simply be here, to be your comfort, your support... your pillow, if that's what you need."

"You're too good to me, doll... you really shouldn't have to deal with all this," he said softly, his voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. He rubbed his nose a little with the back of his hand, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. "You've got more than enough on your plate already. Your own struggles, your own dreams to chase. You don't need my baggage weighing you down too."

"Hey, now. I won't hear any of that," you insisted, your brows furrowing slightly in concern. Your voice was firm but warm, you understood why he felt the way he did, but you didn’t like it. "I love you, sweetheart. That means I love every part of you - the good, the bad, and everything in between. Taking care of you, making sure you're okay... it's not some burden I'm shouldering. It's not something I'm just 'dealing with' because I have to."

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours. "I'm here, by your side, because that's exactly where I want to be. Because you deserve love, support, and care. And because giving you those things brings me joy. It's as simple as that."

You squeezed his hand softly, your eyes meeting his with a look of pure, unconditional love. "So please, don't ever think you're too much or that you're burdening me. You're not. You're the person I choose, every single day. And I want to be here for you, through thick and thin."

"I love you too, doll... I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still avoiding your gaze, but you didn't mind. Vulnerability was difficult for him and you appreciated his honesty even in his discomfort.

"Let's get comfortable, we need to rest for whatever shit is going on tomorrow," you said softly, your voice filled with care and concern, yet a small bite for this ridiculousness of the mission. You were still annoyed you and Bucky had been dragged into this mess.

You began to shuffle the comforter and blankets on the floor, creating a cozy nest beside the bed. Bucky's brow furrowed as he watched you meticulously prep the area, his eyes following your every move with curiosity and confusion.

"You're not planning on sleeping on the floor with me, are you?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief as he observed you fluffing the pillows to ensure maximum comfort. The idea seemed to both perplex and touch him deeply. You had before, of course, at home. But he always insisted you go back to bed after his nightmares died down and he could fall asleep on his own. He didn't like the idea of you sleeping on the hardwood floors with him at night, especially when you could have the bed all to yourself.

"Of course I am," you replied without hesitation, your voice firm but gentle. "You think I'm gonna just let you sleep by yourself after this? Nope, that's not happening. I'm gonna be right by your side, supporting you through this. That's a promise, Bucky, and I intend to keep it." Your words were filled with determination and unwavering loyalty, leaving no room for doubt about your commitment to him.

He let out a deep, resigned sigh, fully aware that you wouldn't budge from your decision, despite the presence of a perfectly comfortable bed in the room. You'd pick sleeping on the floor with him over the warmth and softness of the bed any day. Bucky inched closer and settled into the makeshift sleeping area you had prepared.

Once situated, he gently pulled you towards him, enveloping you in a tender embrace. No words were exchanged, but he carefully repositioned himself, shuffling down slightly to rest his head against your chest, seeking comfort in your presence.

He wanted to be held tonight, and that was perfectly fine with you.

Thank you for reading. -em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

[buck-star]

A love least expected | B.B

Bucky thought he found the love of his life in Steve, but little did he know that Steve going back in time would give him the opportunity to fall in love with someone who really loves Bucky.

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Fem!Reader, past Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 6.184 Words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, Bucky being insecure, Steve being mean, taking less care of themselves (Bucky), best friends to lovers, bit of idiots in love/mutual pinning, reader reads letter Bucky wrote to Steve (he doesn’t mind), more fluff, so much fluff, love confession

Authors Note: Thank you to my loveliest best friend @thevillainswhore for helping me find the pictures, a title and for always listening to all the ideas I throw at you hehe. I love you so much!❤️❤️ Dividers made by me.

Events: Trick or treat | Bucky Barnes, trick and treat, soulmates, best friends to lovers | hosted by me | Stevie BB 200 Follower Writing Challenge | Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, soulmate AU/ bit of idiots in love/mutual pinning, “Are you fucking kidding me?” | @steviebbboi | Writing Challenge | Soulmates AU, 🥐 ༄ؘ “ I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.” | @elixirfromthestars

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The cold wind was blowing harshly, cutting into his skin. But the coldness outside was nothing compared to the one he felt inside him. His lips turned into a thin line, and the usual light blue eyes are now filled with pain and sorrow. His heart was broken, shattered in the tiniest pieces, and not even a sorry couldn’t fix what broke just a few minutes earlier.

The brown-haired man watched his boyfriend — ex-boyfriend — walking closer to the others. Time tracking, Bucky knew when he just heard that Steve would bring back the stones that he wouldn’t come back as the man he used to be.

The hug was too long, the gazes too intense, too hurtful. And Bucky knew it’s the last time he would hold his boyfriend — the next time he will hold him, it will only be his best friend. He couldn’t blame Steve; he didn’t want to. His heart was broken, but his feelings were still as strong as they used to be — as they always were, in the forties already.

While Bucky couldn’t imagine moving on without the man he thought would be the love of his life, he watched Steve move on without him. All the years, all what they went through meant not enough for Steve to be happy with him.

And once again, his mind ran wild. Was it Bucky who gave Steve a reason to move on? Maybe it was the winter soldier that made him less lovely for Steve. Maybe it was everything he did all those years. But why… why was Steve looking for him? He went to war for him and would even have walked to Austria for him. And now there was a man walking to the others; he did look like his Stevie, but he was so different.

Bucky wanted to call the other man’s name; he wanted to run after him and hold him. A few silent tears were rolling down his cheeks, his body shaking slightly, and he tried to hold back his sobs. With every step Steve was taking away from him, he felt his heart ripped out of his chest. There was nothing left.

The words Steve said earlier were still echoing through Bucky’s mind. ‘Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.’ Until he gets back, but the way Bucky’s stomach dropped when he looked into the usual lovely blue eyes of his boyfriend, he could tell that things would be different when Steve would be back.

‘I’m gonna miss you, buddy.’ Bucky had to reply. He knew when Steve was lying, when Steve had something planned without saying it out loud. And this was one of these moments, where the slightly sad expression on the other man’s face gave away the truth. His lips curled up so softly that Bucky would have missed it; wouldn’t he have to find a little bit of hope for them in his boyfriend’s expression.

‘It’s gonna be okay, Buck.’ It was then and there the moment Bucky was sure that Steve wasn’t going to come back as the man he was going to leave. The man Bucky used to love will be back in the forties, being lost somewhere there; maybe he found true love while Bucky was in the war. Or maybe… maybe he would just go back to Buck and give them both a life they deserved without the pain the army and hydra caused.

But deep down Bucky knew the truth; he felt that Steve would change. Just the hope and the love made him believe that his boyfriend could come back to him and could be with him.

The further Steve walked away, the colder it got inside and around Bucky. He was shivering. The strong arms of the other man were still around him, at least the feeling of them. But with every inch of distance between both of the men, Bucky felt the warmth of the touch disappear, and he regretted even letting go of his boyfriend. But he had to; he had to let him go so at least Steve could be happy and live the life he wanted while he left Bucky with no more faith in love.

You were standing a bit away from them, watching your best friend literally break while he watched Steve. Your heart was aching, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and give him the comfort he needed, but you also didn’t want to embarrass him because he was crying and shaking from the pain he felt.

So, you decided to walk over to him and try to give him as much comfort as possible without jumping around his neck with a blanket to wrap him in it and keep him protected and warm.

“Hey, Buck,” you greeted him with a soft smile. His eyes were stuck on the other man, watching every muscle moving and the way his hips swung. You followed his eyes, your smile turning sad, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart shattering.

It’s not that you were in love with Steve; of course he was a good friend. But you know for Bucky he meant the world, that Bucky thought he found the love of and for his life in Steve. Still, he has to watch the person he used to love more than everything, leaving for a life Bucky couldn’t give to him.

You noticed the tears rolling down Bucky’s cheeks; his breath got heavier, and you could almost feel the way your best friend broke from the inside. The deep blue eyes were suddenly so empty; the smile that was always across his face was replaced by a thin line of his lips. The sweet scrunch of his nose that always got everyone’s attention was now replaced by the tears that were quietly falling down his cheeks.

“W-why…?” Bucky asked, his voice only a hoarse whimper. The self-doubts were crashing down on him like the heaviest building ever. Maybe he wasn’t enough; of course he wasn’t. Would he be ever enough for Steve, then he wouldn’t have decided to travel back to have a life with a woman — without Bucky. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

You swallowed thickly; there was no simple answer for that. You didn’t even know if Steve loved Bucky or not. With a soft sigh, you looked at Steve, then at Bucky, and took another step closer to him. “Sometimes… Sometimes love isn’t enough for someone to stay. But that’s not your fault; some people just can’t… they can’t appreciate what they get from another person. They think they can ‘do better’ even though they have everything they need. Sometimes it takes distance for one to notice that he was in the wrong.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up slightly. His eyes still on Steve as he placed the helmet on his head and stepped into the machine for time travel. “So, maybe he will come back to me… to us… to that here as the one he is now?”

The hope in Bucky's voice caused a cold shiver running down your spine. You really hoped for him that Steve would come back as the one he was. That he only needed to see that he loved Bucky and that he found everything in the man he could possibly find in someone.

But deep down, you actually knew that it’s not true. Steve wouldn’t be the one he used to be. But you weren’t sure; you didn’t want to break Bucky’s heart further, but lying and letting him think that Steve would be his old self? You don’t want to do it either.

“I-I don’t know,” you mumbled and watched Steve. He disappeared. Next to you, you noticed something — or someone — was falling down to the ground. Your eyes widened, and your heart shattered as the scream left his parted lips.

Bucky kneeled next to you on the dirty, cold floor, his eyes red and watery while he pants. It was his scream; it was his pain. He had to let go the moment the love of his life disappeared to live another life. He stared down; his hands were grasping the dirt under his fingers, and tears were falling down his cheeks.

“No…no…no…no,” he panted, repeating the words over and over again. His breath was heavy, and his eyes were unfocused. And then he started to shake his head; his eyes were wandering from the ground up to where Steve was standing and back to the ground. “Please… come back. St-Steve, please.”

You watched Bucky for a moment, considering whether to kneel down or give him a moment for himself. Your eyes were wandering over his shaking form, and when he started to repeat Steve’s name and begged him to come back, you got down on your knees as well.

“Bucky? I know it hurts, but Steve isn’t coming back,” you mumbled. You’re not sure what to say, but trying to hide the truth wouldn’t help Bucky either. “Can you look at me?”

Bucky swallowed, turning his face toward you. His eyes were red and puffy, his lips formed into a pout, and he stared at you with the most hurt expression you have ever seen on his face. He nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine,” you said in a soft voice. You brought your hand to his soft, brown locks. Bucky relaxed slightly, the pain still visible, but at least he had someone who was there for him. You curled his hair around your fingers, stroking his neck softly. “Everything is going to be fine; you’re not alone. I know it feels like that; it feels like Steve took everything with him, but he didn’t. We’re still here for you, and you’re loved.”

Bucky nodded, leaning his head against your shoulder. His arms automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer toward him. The brown-haired man’s fingers were digging into your skin, holding onto you to make sure you’re staying as close as possible to him.

“You stay?”

“I will stay. You’re my best friend; I love you, and I will give you all the hugs and cuddles you need, Buck.”

The days and the weeks felt so much longer and so empty without Steve. Bucky didn’t sleep much at all; he refused to eat and cared about anything but his letters. Since Steve left, he wrote a letter every day, putting all his feelings, all his pain, and all his love into them. Even though he refused to go out, he didn’t mind when you came over and gave him some company.

You sighed when you opened the door to Bucky’s apartment. The air was thick and stinging; you closed the door and walked further into the apartment. You got used to Bucky’s behavior, his less care for everything, but you wished you could help him.

“Buck? I brought some food,” you said as you looked through the door of his living room. His eyes were shooting up at you. He nodded with a slightly sad smile and held out his hands, curious what you got for him. “How are you feeling today?”

He shrugged, taking the bag and looking into it. “‘M not sure. Empty… cold?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, but he smiled softly when he noticed something you got for him. He took it and held it out of the bag, showing it to you. “I love these, my favorite chocolate.”

You watched him for a while before you walked through the room to open the windows and let some fresh air in. Even though Bucky tried to convince you to not clean, you always did it when you were there. Most of the time he even helped you, finding it easier to clean when he didn’t have to do it all by himself.

“When did you shower last time?” Bucky looked up, his face heating up as he turned his face away again. You sighed, knowing it was at least a week ago that he had a shower. “How about you get one yet?”

Bucky shook his head; fear was visible in his blue orbs. You furrowed, walking closer to him. He didn’t look at you, too ashamed to do so. Bucky’s breath hitched as you kneeled down in front of him and rested your arms on his thick thighs.

“Why not?” Your voice was sweet as honey. You knew it was the best way to talk to Bucky without making him more ashamed or making him feel worse.

“Becuase…” Bucky swallowed thickly. “What if I come back here and you’re gone?”

Your eyes widened, and your heart was beating faster. After Steve left, Bucky got more and more separation anxiety, but you didn’t know it would be that bad. That it would cause him to refuse letting you out of your view when you’re there — which you are around every day or at least every other day.

“I’m not going anywhere else,” you mumbled, drawing small circles on his thick. Bucky nodded, his eyes watering as he looked at you. His big hands moved almost automatically to yours; he placed them on top of yours and held them tight.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Bucky nodded at your assurance. He still refused to let go of your hands and move an inch, but he knew he had to take a shower at least. He didn’t even know why he still felt so low. Steve hurt him; he broke him, but he found something that’s worth living again. But whatever he tried, the thought of losing it made him curl into a little ball and feel the depression coming over him again.

“But… you stay here?” Bucky asked once again. You nodded, smiling at him before getting up to sit down next to him and giving him the room to get up. He sighed, his hands shaking, but he finally moved and got up to walk to the bathroom.

His eyes were darting between you and the bathroom, making sure you were still sitting on the couch. Your heart broke slightly about the insecure and broken man who used to be so happy and proud of himself. Someone who was never insecure about himself.

When he finally got into the shower, you started to clean his apartment. Starting with the trash that was placed all over the floor and surfaces. You then changed the sheets on his bed and opened the windows there as well until you reached the big pile of dirty clothes.

With a chuckle, you picked it up and ordered it to put it into the washing machine. You noticed a bunch of letters between some other stuff on the table; you listened to the sound of the running shower before taking them.

It wasn’t your best move, you know that, but you were curious who he was writing a letter — or a bunch of letters. You opened the first one; the first one made your breath hitch.

For Steve.

Your eyes widened, then they moved to the date on it; it was written one day after Steve left. You couldn’t stop the curiosity from boiling over and made you continue reading what Bucky wrote.

I miss you. I miss you more than I thought one could miss someone else. Are you coming back? Please don’t go away; don’t leave me.

You noticed the few patches of tears in the paper; your heart was clenching while you continued to read further through the letter. Bucky told Steve everything about the day he left — that he broke down, that you comforted him, that he couldn’t sleep, and that everything felt so hard. Bucky’s heart was broken, and he put it down in the form of words; even though Steve isn’t reading it, he could at least get it out of him.

Don’t leave me alone in this new world. It’s more than I can handle; it’s so new, so different from the forties. Please don’t leave me alone in this new and modern world.

Your eyes watered at the desperation Bucky probably feels every day. Even though you knew that things changed since the forties, you hoped that it wouldn’t feel that bad for Bucky. Reading those words made your heart clench in your chest, causing you to shiver.

I love you.

Bucky.

Putting the letter away, you took another one, curious what Bucky wrote later. It wasn’t just a letter from a day later; it was one around a month later. You opened it and stared at the first words Bucky wrote.

Hi Steve,

it still feels different without you. I still feel that something about me is missing. It hurts to think about you, and sometimes I still even hear your voice.

You stared at the words; it was different. Bucky wasn’t as desperate as he was before anymore. It still pained you to know that Bucky was suffering so much because of the man he thought he would love. But on the other side, you knew that Bucky felt better now, at least a bit.

I feel less empty; it’s less cold. But I am still mad at you. I hope you’re being happy, but it makes me insane to know that I couldn’t be the one who makes you happy.

I’m mad that you left me alone in the modern world by myself. That you went back in time, that you looked like you didn’t care about me.

Your eyes were roaming over Bucky’s words. His thoughts were all written down on a piece of paper — his anger, his hurt, but also that he loved Steve. You continued to read this letter before you took another one, the one he wrote last night.

You listened closely, the shower still running, so you inhaled deeply once more and opened that letter as well.

Curiosity was stuck to every fiber in your body; you weren’t sure if you should read it. You shouldn’t have started to read them at all because they were private. But on the other side, it was also important to see how Bucky was doing; those letters said so much more than he did. He didn’t like talking too much about his feelings, especially not about Steve. So you were letting your eyes wander over the words of the letter.

I found that girl; she’s beautiful and sweet. I never thought I could look at someone and feel that way ever again, but she made me see the world in a positive way. Her eyes shine like the sun, and her laugh is the most beautiful I have ever heard. She's the light in my nights and the one I can hold onto if I feel like I fall.

Your eyes widened as you read the words Bucky wrote down. There weren’t many people who were around Bucky; it was actually mostly Sam and you. So the only person he could mean was you, and a shiver ran down your spine when your stomach flipped.

Bucky may have fallen in love with you. It was a while back since Steve left him, and you knew about the way Bucky changed that he slowly got over Steve. Even though he was still sad about what Steve did, and even though Bucky didn’t get himself to take care, he also changed slightly into a bit more of a happy self.

I still don’t get my ass up; I don’t find motivation to clean and take care of things or even me. Except she’s around, then she helps me. You know her; she was the only person who helped me get up and who stood by my side when you left me in this modern world to live another life. And she never — not once — left my side since that. She is my strength; she is my everything.

You put the letter back on the table when you heard the door of the bathroom opening. Bucky walked with a towel around his waist into the living room; his expression was soft, and a soft smile played around his lips. You had seen him like that — without a shirt and damp hair — a few times before, but this time it made your knees buckle, and you were glad that you were still sitting on the couch.

Bucky walked closer to you, looking around as he noticed that you really cleaned for him. Then his eyes landed on the letters that were still on the table; one of them was open, and he gasped softly.

“Y-you know you don’t have to clean…” He said, his eyes still focused on the letter. Emotions overcame him: fear, happiness, panic, and love. “Did you read them?”

Bucky smiled softly as he saw your reaction. He knew exactly that you read them, and he even liked it. So he didn’t have to hide his feelings anymore, even though he was unsure what you feel, if you would feel the same or were going to be mad about it.

You nodded, watching him walk closer. Bucky took a short and a pair of boxers from the counter, pulling them on before he focused his attention back on you. His heart was racing, and his breath sped up slightly the longer he waited for an answer from you.

“A-Are you m-mad? I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it,” he breathed out, sitting down next to you on the couch. One of his legs underneath the other while he watched you intensely. “I… we can just ignore it… I-I just… I know you could think I just fell in love because Steve left. But I guess I just needed to realize that Steve and I never worked the way I tried to see.”

Bucky often told you about his relationship with Steve. He loved the other man, but Steve was still stuck in the past. And even though he tried to hide it, Bucky always knew it. The brown-haired man loved Steve a whole lot, but the moment the other was turned into a big, muscular man — Bucky knew that Steve wouldn’t be as much in love with him any longer. He finally got the attention he always hoped to get; he finally didn’t have to feel insecure anymore. As much as Bucky tried, he could never help Steve with his insecurities as much as the serum then did.

“I know,” you mumbled, resting your hand on Bucky's thigh. You smiled softly at him, running your fingers over his knee. “I’ve seen the way you changed after Steve left. I still see it and also how you act around me. And I’m glad I read those letters, and I’m also glad that you fell in love with me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t sure if he heard right or if that was just the most amazing dream ever. His blue eyes were staring into yours, holding your gaze as he waited for you to laugh and tell him that you just made a joke. But the moment didn’t come; instead, you inch closer to him and had the most adorable smile on your face.

“Do you need me to spell it for you?” You chuckled and brought your hand to his cheek. You brushed your fingers over his soft stubbles. Bucky tilted his head, leaning more into your touch. “I. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U. I’m in love with you too.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes still holding yours as you literally spelled ‘I love you’ for him. He inhaled deeply; it was shaky and slow, but the smile on his face only grew the more the words seeped into his mind.

“You really do? Like, in a way that if I asked you out, you would say yes? Like in a way that if I wanted to kiss you, you would let me?” He asked; he was almost stumbling over his own words. The thoughts were racing in his mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine your soft lips pressing delicately against yours.

“I really do. I would definitely say yes. And would you like to kiss me… if I would let you. How about you try and find out?”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning closer to you. “You know, you're my rock in every hard time. You’re the star that brightens up my day. You’re the sun that warms me. And even though I still have some trouble taking care of things and even myself. Never doubt my love; I may not be good at cleaning and all. But I know that I love you more than everything; you know that, don’t you?”

You chuckled and nodded. “I do know that you do. And I would never doubt your love, my clingy, precious boy,” you smirked at him, causing him to growl in amusement. “I do love you too.”

Without another word, Bucky leaned closer and pressed his lips softly against yours. His hands found their way around your waist, pulling you into his lap while he intertwined his fingers behind your back and held you close. Your hands moved almost automatically to his neck, pulling him closer until his nose brushed over your cheek.

Bucky growled into the kiss; his lips were moving softly and slowly against yours. It felt different, like every kiss or touch the two of you ever felt before — this one wasn’t just a kiss with someone you hoped to be with forever; this was a kiss that meant forever. It was the start of your journey together, the start of the most special thing you could have imagined.

“Buc-“ you interrupted yourself the moment you heard the voice of Steve coming from your shared living room. Bucky and you were happier than ever; you had a lot of dates, and after a while you even moved in with him. He was the sweetest man you have ever met, and he feels the happiness back inside of him. But now you had to listen to your boyfriend talking to his ex-boyfriend, to the man he used to love more than everything.

Your heart was beating faster, and you pressed yourself against the wall behind you, scared of what you were going to hear. Bucky loved you; the two of you had enough time and moments to fall deeply in love with you. But you never thought what would happen the moment Steve would walk back into his life because you never thought Steve would do that.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I don’t know what came over me or what made me do that. I should have never left; I don’t… I just don’t know,” Steve mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair. The hair Bucky used to love running his fingers through and playing with the strands of Steve’s hair.

Bucky shook his head. He inhaled deeply before looking straight into his ex-boyfriend's blue orbs. “I accept your apology.”

Your heart dropped when you heard that; a shaky breath left your lips, and you had to fight the tears that threatened to break free. This couldn’t be possible; Bucky couldn’t leave you, could he? You tried to stay as calm as possible, listening carefully to the conversation before freaking out or breaking down.

“So you come back? You let me come back? I missed you; it was all a big mistake. I never cheated on you; I just needed to see that you’re the one for me, I guess. Bucky, please give us another chance. I will be better this time,” Steve said, his voice pleasing, and you knew without having to look at him how he looked at Bucky. You wouldn’t blame Bucky for going back to Steve, even though it would break your heart. If it was Bucky’s wish to go back to Steve, he would never dare to be between them and stop Bucky from being happy.

“Guess you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a traitor,” Bucky said, his voice calm and shaking. He shook his head as he looked at Steve, who had tears in his eyes. “I wish that you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.”

Steve’s jaw dropped as he heard the words leaving his ex-lovers lips. “Buck… you-you can’t be serious. I love you; I always loved you.”

You noticed the shaking in Steve’s voice, and you felt almost pity — wouldn't he have been the reason for Bucky being down and broken after he left. You heard Bucky shuffling; he was probably grasping his hair like he always did and turned around. Bucky inhaled deeply before turning back to Steve. “Did you love me when she was sleeping in the bed we made? Don’t you dare forget about the way you betrayed me. ‘Cause I know that you will never feel sorry for sleeping in the bed with her, for kissing her, for looking at her like you used to look at me,” Bucky breathed out.

“I-I didn’t..” Steve gets interrupted by Bucky shaking his head. He didn’t want to hear more; he didn’t want anyone to destroy his happiness ever again — not even his ex-boyfriend. “Please, Bucky, I need you.”

“I’m sorry,” the brown-haired mumbled. He wasn’t sure to tell Steve about you, to tell him about the love he found and the happiness he feels again. “I can't, and I honestly don't want to. You broke me and.. I—“

“You what?” Steve asked in a dominant and angry tone. His eyes widened when he thought about a possible reason Bucky couldn’t go back to him. “No. Don’t tell me you… Bucky, no.”

You took a few steps back before you walked with a few louder steps to let them know that you approached the room. Steve and Bucky looked at you. Steve’s eyes were widened with shock and disbelief, while Bucky looked at you with a soft smile and brightened eyes at you.

“Babydoll,” Bucky smirked and held his arms open for you to walk closer to him. Your eyes drifted to Steve for a moment before you let Bucky wrap his arms tightly around you. He pressed his lips softly against your forehead, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his waist — which you did. “How was the meeting? Everything fine, or do you need anything?”

You smiled softly against his chest. Bucky was always so sweet and caring when it came to you. He always made sure that you had everything you needed and that you got whatever you wanted or needed. Seeing your smile and the love you gave to him made his heart swell, and he just couldn’t help but feel in love with you every time.

“Everything is fine. Just wanted to get a glass of water and ask if you have any idea for dinner today,” you mumbled before pulling back softly and looking at Steve. His eyes were narrow, and he watched the two of you intensely. Steve swallowed thickly when he saw the way Bucky hugged you, the way he kissed your forehead, and how sweet and loving he was around you. “Hey, Steve.”

He nodded, watching you walk toward the kitchen. His eyes were glued to you. Bucky cleared his throat, getting Steve’s attention. The smile on Bucky’s face turned into a like again when he looked back at Steve, who shook his head slightly.

“Are you fu— kidding me? How much do you pay her that you made me suffer like that? Do you want me to get on my knees to beg you to take me back?” Steve asked, determined to get an answer that would make it possible for Steve to get his ex-boyfriend back.

“I’m not doing it to make you suffer. I love her, and she loves me. When you left, I went home, I sat in the corner of the room, and everything reminded me of you,” Bucky said before taking a deep breath.

He didn’t like to hurt Steve like that; he didn’t want to hurt him, but he wasn’t in love with him anymore. Bucky found you; he found his babydoll, someone who would never leave him — for no one else.

“I thought about what could make you go back in time, and then I noticed. Peggy, the way you looked at her in the bar. She was the first woman who gave you attention. It didn’t matter that I loved you more than everything because you got the attention of a woman — a handsome and nice woman,” the brown-haired man’s eyes roamed over Steve’s face, noting the ways his lips twitched. Bucky knew he was right; he knew that Steve loved the attention he got from Peggy; no woman had ever looked at him like that before.

“That’s not… I mean, yes, but that’s not true. I do like the attention I got from her, but that doesn’t mean that I love you less. I do love you the same.” Steve growled; he was annoyed. Not about Bucky but about himself. Maybe a bit about you too, but the most he was annoyed and mad at himself. “You can’t just date someone else. You still love me, don’t you?”

“No. I saw you disappearing; did you hear my scream? She saw it; she fucking heard it. Did you ever think about me before or while you did it? I wrote a letter for you. Every single day. And the only thing I thought about was you being happier,” Bucky mumbled, staring directly into Steve’s eyes.

The other man swallowed thickly. The hurt in Bucky’s expression when he told him about the day Steve left. Or the love in his expression when he looked at you. Or when he kissed you, Bucky was so soft and lovely that Steve wasn’t sure if it was all a game to make him suffer or if it was true. But with every following word, he knew that Bucky fell in love with you and that he really loved you.

“My friends told me one day I'd feel it too. And I do; I finally do. I feel with her what it is to be loved — to know that she will never leave me like you did. I could have tried to smile and hide the truth when you left. When I thought I was happier with you, she would have seen because she always knows how I feel, how I really feel.”

“Bucky, you can’t be serious; you just can’t.” Steve breathed out, the realization that the brown-haired man is now happier with you hitting him. So he added in a softer and quieter tone. “But yes… you look happier, you do.”

The brown-haired man nodded, smiling softly. He felt sorry for Steve, but it was his decision to leave; it was his decision to go back in time to live another life. Bucky looked over to the kitchen where you’re standing with your glass; you watched them. When your eyes locked, you smiled softly, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel his heart beating even faster for you.

Bucky turned back to Steve before he smiled at him as well — it was less happy and not reaching his eyes but assuring. “I knew one day you’d fall for someone new. But that’s okay, cause I found someone who made me feel loved like you never could make me feel.” Bucky said, his eyes wandering from Steve to you and back to Steve.

The other man huffed; he thought Bucky would wait for him to let him come back so they could be happy together. “I hope she’s making you happy. But if she breaks your heart like lovers do, just know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

Bucky’s body tensed at those words. He knew that Steve was hurt and wanted to hurt him as well, but he also knew that he’s happier with you now. He found the love he never thought existed; you would never leave him, and you love him with every fiber of you. With all the words and gestures, the love and affection you give him, you show him that you mean it, that Bucky means everything to you — just like you mean everything to him.

“She isn’t a lover of mine. She is the other half of me. She’s my babydoll; she would never do anything that hurts me,” Bucky mumbled before leading Steve out of the house. Then he returned to you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly against his broad chest.

“Thank you; without you, I would have never felt that love, and I would never have been able to be strong enough to say no to someone who betrayed me. My babydoll, mine, all mine.” Bucky pressed his lips against your neck, then your cheek, until he pulled you into a soft kiss. A kiss that said more than words could ever express — love and affection for eternity.

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[navybrat817]

Does Bucky ever get needy?

Does Bucky Barnes ever get needy, nonnie?

Does he want your attention? Yes. He feels selfish at times because he knows you have to focus on others, but he’ll stare at you like a puppy until he gets your attention. Or a grumpy cat. He actually sat on your lap once when you didn't look at him. That certainly got your attention. And the time he snarled at Steve for taking up too much of your time. Yes. Snarled. At his best friend.

Does he like your touch? Yes. While he doesn’t let a lot of people put their hands on him, he seeks out your touch. He pushed his head under your palm once while you were reading because he wanted to feel your fingers run through his hair. He’ll also hold your hand whenever you’re around a lot of people. It grounds him and presents the two of you as a united front.

Does he like to touch you? Yes. Once he got over his fear of sleeping in bed with someone else, he went from ex-assassin to cuddle monster. You’ve had to pry yourself from his six-feet however many inches tall octopus hold in the mornings, but he just pulls you right back to him. It’s nice since he’s basically like a personal space heater. Feeling his breath against your neck as he smiles makes you smile, too. And he always has a hand on you or arm around you when hanging out with friends. Not as a sign of ownership, but he’s just thankful that he has you to touch and he’s proud to be your guy.

Does he like to be apart from you when you’re close by? No, not even if you’re just in the next room. He’ll give you space if you need it. Otherwise, he just wants to be where you are. You almost slipped once getting out of the shower because he was just there waiting for you and holding your towel for you. He caught you before you could fall because he won’t let you get hurt if he can help it. Since he’s extremely agile and silent thanks to his training and serum, he makes a little noise now so he won’t scare you again. Unless it’s primal play and then all bets are off.

banner by the talented @cafekitsune

Does he like to be away from you for missions? No. He hates it. He’ll get the job done, of course, because he has someone to fight for and come back to. But good luck to you and your pussy once he’s home. A koala bear sort of hug that quickly turns into desperate fucking. Panting and moaning how much he missed you, how he doesn’t deserve you, but you’re so good. Feel so good. And you’re his. His. He isn’t letting go. Can’t let go. You’re not walking tomorrow either, but it’s worth it.

Has he ever gotten hard just from you kissing him? Yes. Heated or lazy kisses, a peck on the lips. Doesn’t matter. Hell, he felt his cock twitch when you smiled at him this morning. Breathing the same air as you has done the same thing. The first time you told him “I love you” when he was inside you, he came then and there. He was embarrassed until you told him how hot it was that you loving him got him off. How many others can say that?

Does he jerk off to the very thought of you? Yes. Inhaling the scent from your panties with a growl as he strokes his cock, imagining your gasps and whimpers as if he was actually fucking you. His hand never feels as good as your pussy. Isn’t wet or tight enough. Doesn’t grip him like a vice. Putting his other hand in his hair, he doesn’t pull the strands the same way you do. It just isn’t the same. You ruined him in the best possible way.

Does he like to finish inside you? Yes. It’s like his mission every single time. He drives into you like his only purpose is to pleasure you and fill you up. The last time you went down on him, he had you lay back before he could finish and jerked off on your folds. He pushed as much of his release as he could inside you. And thanks to being able to get hard again quickly, he proceeded to fuck you into the mattress and add more to it. You’re hardly ever empty.

Does he love you? Yes, more than anyone else or anything. You’re the beginning and end of everything and that should scare him, but it doesn’t. You’re the sun that rises and brightens the darkness. What he feels for you is eternal, infinite, and he’ll cherish every big and small moment the two of you have together. And he’ll still love you if the world ends tomorrow.

So, does Bucky Barnes ever get needy? Yes.

And that’s okay.

Sorry lovelies. Nothing to see here. Go about your business. Love and thanks! ❤️

[oneofstarkskids]

i chose you

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

genre: fluff with a dash of angst

start of a series??

you knew you wanted kids. you always did. of course, you wanted to follow your dreams and aspirations but something inside of you told you that you would make a great mother too. and it wasn't like you couldn't have both.

you loved kids and you were practically born nurturing. and when you fell in love with bucky, these desires only grew fiercer. you didn't just want to have kids, but you wanted to have his kids.

truth be told, bucky wanted that too. to see you all big and pregnant carrying his baby boy or girl. he wanted a family. like the one he'd grown up in, before everything.

but he was afraid. so afraid. what if the super soldier serum had...side effects? what if he couldn't give you the children you wanted so badly? would you leave him? and worse, if you did have children...what if he hurt them? what if the darkest part of him was never really gone and he hurt the people he loved most?

these fears sat in the back of his mind for so long. he felt this pang of guilt anytime you mentioned having kids. so, when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after he'd come home from the grocery store that day, he just let the bags fall to the ground.

he shut down. you reached for him, but it was like touching a ghost. "bucky?" a part of him wanted to turn and run. the other part of him couldn't move an inch.

he was staring right into the face of his deepest fear. "james, please," you said. you sounded so heartbroken. bucky mentally cursed himself. why couldn't he do anything? why couldn't he reassure you? he simply stood there.

your brows furrowed in pain before you left him standing in the middle of the walkway. bucky swallowed. "i'm going to be a dad," he thought.

he looked down at the bags on the floor, crushed cans and broken glass. "i'm going to be a dad," his thoughts repeated. tears brimmed in his eyes. he felt this indescribable joy...until he remembered the look on your face. disappointed. no. betrayed.

he went after you, towards your shared bedroom. the door was locked. "doll, please let me in. i need to explain." but you told him to go away, your throat raw from crying. which only made him feel more guilty.

"please. i want this, sweetheart. i'm just..." he hated to admit it aloud. "i'm so afraid."

after a few long seconds of silence, he heard the lock click. you had your arms crossed over your body. his heart broke at the sight of your running mascara. bucky hated the way you nearly flinched away from him as he wiped at your tears with the pad of his thumb.

he held your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes as he spoke. "i love you more than anything. and I know, for damn certain, that you're going to make the best mama. but..."he took a shaky breath, "you deserve someone who can give you a normal life. a normal family."

your frown only deepened and you shook your head, "no. stop it, bucky. stop making excuses."

he tried to tell you that it wasn't an excuse, but you wouldn't have it.

"i didn't choose a normal life. i chose you. from the moment that i met you i knew that our lives together wouldn't be normal, so you don't get to back out now," you said sharply.

bucky leaned closer to you, "doll, i was never backing out."

your expression stayed tense, not fully believing him. the look on his face was tattooed into your brain.

"i'm terrified, but i have you. as long as i have you, i'll be okay. besides, we're stuck with each other remember?" he whispered the last part softly as he spun the ring on your left hand between his fingers. "couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

you sniffled as he pulled you in tightly against his chest.

you felt his hands gently press against your belly as the warm hug ended. "neither of you."