#bucky: kids please...

[mygirlfriendismadatme]

my biggest hater will always be the girl that said she shipped Bucky and Yelena and said Steve’s ending was cute then acted like I was insane and actually recoiled when I said I ship Sam/Bucky and Steve/Bucky💔💔

[greendreamer]

My MLP AU has the happy ending/everybody lives vibes. So, of course, not only are Sam and Bucky happily married but have a kid together.

Bonus

[tamagaytchicollector]

need to hook up w a bearded man so hard i have razor burn on both set of lips after

…AHEM

[sadanddumbcat]

Every time a comic image is posted and tagged with Stucky an angel dies. 😔🙏

Save an Angel! stop tagging comic panels with Stucky.

[sallamie]

i still cry about the original 6

[inlovewith505]

Okay, sooo… I have an idea for a Bucky Barnes fan fiction and here’s a drabble of that.

I apologize for all the mistakes — English isn’t my first language and it can be badly written cuz I wrote it in like 20 minutes on my phone, but I’ll fix it all if anyone would be interested in reading that.

The suitcase met the floor with a loud thump.

“Shit!” The word fell from her lips almost mindlessly as she took a deep breath, trying to calm down as a small hand tugged on her own. Mallory winced slightly, still not quite used to the feeling of the sweaty palm in her grip.

“Shit.” A little girl nodded, repeating the word eagerly and smiling widely at her sister, revealing a few missing teeth.

A wave of guilt washed through the blonde as she realized how awful she could be at times. For a millisecond, she almost regretted getting onto that train. But all she had to do was look down at the scar on her sisters’ wrist to know that she made the right decision.

Everyone deserves a family and she would rather die than deprive the girl of a chance for that.

“Abbie, no, it’s… uhm— yeah, never mind,” Mallory sighed, shaking her head in both amusement and disapproval. She leaned down to pick up the suitcase, rubbing her eye mindlessly. A few seconds later, she realized the mascara she put on must have been smudged by then. A bitter reminder of who she really was — just a teen. Young and stupid, barely fit to be a sister. And now, she was forced to take up the role of a parent.

Another sigh escaped her lips, this one heavier and more resigned. Ignoring the smudged makeup, she glanced around the bustling train station, the clamor of announcements and hurried footsteps reminding her of the urgency.

Focus, Mallory.

She took a deep breath, the grip around her sister’s hand tightening as she led them out of the crowded building. Mallory let go of the suitcase, pulling out her phone and ignoring the wave of unread texts and missed calls, finger lingering over one of the names for a second. We don’t have time for sentiments, she reminded herself before opening another app, copying the address of the place they were going to stay in from now on.

Their new home.

[acourtofquestions]

Me: trying to prepare myself for the emotional warfare of EoS Part 2.

[herowra1th]

just remembered that Steve Rogers does not, in fact, follow my social medias in this reality and had to hit the

[bingingcontentrn]

Getting ahead of myself but this were the vibes after the first kiss:

Like omggg 💐💐💐💐 it was on my mind while reading fr

It Was Just Like A Movie

Pairing: Actor!Joaquin Torres x Fem!Actress!Reader

Summary: You were each other’s Co-stars and bestest friends. But, you loved loved him. He loved loved you, as well. What was the problem? Everyone knew this except the two of you.

Warnings: Actors!AU, Best friends to Lovers, Cursing, Mentions of Stalking by fans, Talks about feet (not in a gross way!), small foot injury, Pining, So much Fluff, Slight Angst, Yearning, Drinking, These two are oblivious dumbasses, Kissing, heavily inspired by my babies tom and zendaya and their adorable interviews during no way home press tour . This one is really long. There will be a part two, hehe.

AN: i was rewatching all the tz interviews and i could only think about joaquin. enjoy. That Paris interview in this is word for word, bar for bar, taken from tom and z’s interview. So full credits to them. PS: assume the movie they are doing press for is something like We Live In Time.

If someone asked you, 'What's the best part of being an actor?' you would immediately respond with 'Getting to know Joaquin Torres'. You were forever grateful for getting cast in that Netflix show 3 years ago because that show introduced you to the silliest and prettiest sweetest boy in this whole world.

By the time the show was over, both of you were attached to the hip. Everyone would keep insisting that the two of you would end up together but to protect your friendship, you turned a blind eye to them. Worst part of it all were the fans. You loved them, truly. But the endless edits, messages and tweets that they would make about the two of you was something that always gave you goosebumps- out of fear or out of excitement, or maybe both. They even had a whole hashtag for your 'ship' name. It was terrifying. You did not want Joaquin to be weirded out and to distance himself from you, like it happens to some in the industry after the fans became more invasive.

It escalated when some fans would stalk you both and psychoanalyse your friendship. They would post sneaky pictures of you two hanging out and you freaked out over it every time. You were not expecting Joaquin to react with the same air of nonchalance. As if this wasn't making your heart fall down to your stomach. As if it wouldn't break you if he walked away. He was your rock, your family, in this fucked up industry. The two of you have been through everything together. Even your families were a big joint family at this point. So yeah, you were afraid of losing your best friend- your soulmate -over some stupid fan theories.

You chose to lock your feelings far away and told yourself to be normal around him. But how could you do that when he was so charming and so damn clingy? His day wasn't complete without giving you a thousand hugs and cuddles per day. Your stomach erupted in butterflies every single time. You swore that the hugs were longer and longer each day and they left you feeling giddy throughout the day.

He was a professional yapper so how could you be normal around him when he had to tell you every single detail from his day. If it wasn't in person, then it was over a call and if it wasn't over a call, then your phone would blow up with his texts and audio messages all day long. His talkative nature was a blessing for you because 1. you were an amazing listener and an introvert and 2. you loved listening to his smooth, slightly husky, low pitched voice. It was like music to your ears and you would never admit to his face that you loved being the only person he would tell all these details to. Even if your peers teased you every time they saw Joaquin was calling you, you would never miss his call.

How could you be normal around him when his beautiful eyes would look at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky? It was probably the perpetual look of wonder in his eyes because he was so passionate about everything he did. But you swore he looked at you with a different twinkle in his eyes. Or maybe it was your poor heart's wishful thinking.

Another reason why you couldn't be normal around Joaquin Torres was his endless charm and sweet nature, especially towards you and especially during interviews. He was either a really smooth fucker or he was putting up a show for everyone because boy was he ten times more clingy and attentive in front of the cameras. He would flirt with you. It was almost like he wanted to give the fans some content to talk about. He would make a joke, lean closer to you or flirt with you and your entire face would be warm which you'd try to cover up with overly dramatic laughter.

You were sure of one thing, Joaquin Torres would be the cause of your death (biggest heartbreak) one day.

-

The two of you had been cast in a new romantic-drama and were currently on the press tour for the movie.

Currently, you were in Paris and the two of you were sitting in a room with a single seat in the middle and a screen in front of it. The seat was small. Like, your-thighs-would-be-touching-Joaquin's- small. You saw that and damn near fainted. You don't think you could handle sitting so close to him.

So, here you were, sitting extremely close to Joaquin, trying to focus on the questions appearing on the screen before you. You kept your hands in lap and tried to lean away from him. But he would have none of that and leaned even closer to you. You have never wanted to smack him in the head more than you did in this moment.

You swallowed the butterflies that had crawled up your throat and clenched your fists before reading out the question. "What do you have in common with your characters?", you read aloud and turned to face him.

He was wearing a lovely white collared shirt with diamond shaped lines on it, which framed his broad shoulders nicely, paired with black straight pants and his favorite golden necklace. His curls were gelled back to look perfectly quaffed. Oh yeah, did you mention that every time he wore jewelry you wanted to pull him closer by his necklace, grab his face and kiss him stupid? Yeah.

He looked at you and observed your face for a second before you broke off his stare. You looked so pretty, he thought.

"What do you have in common with your characters? Answer it!", you smiled at him and gestured at the screen with your hand.

Joaquin blinked before turning his attention back to the screen.

"Uh- he is- devilishly handsome-", he began while clapping his right fist against the palm of his left hand.

You let out a laugh and nudged him.

"He is incredibly brave, charming, charismatic!", he listed off with a smile in his voice.

"We're played by the same person-", you added in while giggling.

He continued his actions. "-we're played by the same person, funny!", he finished smugly. You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder.

Before you could say anything he continued, "Yours is- she's a weirdo-", he began counting off on his fingers and you burst out in giggles and leaned against him.

"She's a loser! She is...sassy!", he counted off in a teasing manner.

You chuckled and held his hands to stop him. "Shut up! Next question!"

What you didn't notice, was the way he looked at you when you laughed. Like there was nobody else in the room. Like his entire heart was pouring out of his eyes. Like he wanted to freeze time in this moment so that you could hold his hand a little longer.

-

Joaquin Torres never knew he needed a guardian angel. He thought he was doing just fine in his life. Then, he got cast in a Netflix show and he met you. The day that he met you, he was sure his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were a shy thing, never speaking to anyone unless spoken to, respectful and oh so sweet. Always ready to help people out. And oh, you looked like an angel. Your eyes were always shining so bright- as if you held a thousand stars in them. You had the most breathtaking smile that made his lungs give out. He knew he was goner the moment you flashed him that smile.

It didn't take time for Joaquin to fall for you and for you to become his best friend. Although, every time you called him that, it felt like someone had stabbed him straight through the heart but he steadied himself and stomped on his feelings. Because he valued your presence in his life more than he valued his feelings for you. If you wanted to be his friend, then that's what he was going to be. A good friend, a loyal friend, as long as you wanted.

Joaquin thought you were his guardian angel because he liked himself better when he was with you and because you were there to hold him when nobody was. He learned to be kinder to himself and others because of you. You validated his feelings and lifted him up whenever he faced any failure. He wanted to be as graceful as you are. He was in love with your generosity, your advocacy for the right things and your ability to feel and express every emotion at the fullest. He could write novels and poems for and on you. He loved you. Completely.

The two of you were always attached by the hip. Hanging out after filming or hanging out at each other's houses was soon a part of your routines. He couldn't go without talking to you for even a day. It was his most favorite thing in the whole world because you were such a good listener. Always enthusiastic about his stories and lending him a shoulder to lean on. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle, either. Joaquin was naturally a clingy person. He loved people and he loved being close to his loved ones but he especially loved being clingy with you. The two of you fit like puzzle pieces and your body would automatically make space for him even if you weren't big on physical touch. Holding your hands, hugging you, cuddling you while he slept, leaning against you during interviews and the lingering hugs when you were separated for a long time. He wanted to hold you close and melt in your soft, loving arms forever. He didn't give a damn about anybody watching the two of you or your peers teasing you both.

He knew it was serious for him the day he brought you home to meet his mom, grandmother and sister. And it was the best decision he ever took in his life because they adored you like you were their own. Every time you were over at his house, the three of them would give Joaquin knowing looks but he told them not to think much about it because you didn't like him like that. To make matters worse, your family had basically adopted him and it made him dizzy at how domestic all of it looked like.

One day, you showed him what the fans had been talking about the two of you. You showed him the countless edits, tweets, texts and posts and he was shocked. Because as he was looking through those edits, he thought- was he always this obvious? And how could you not see that? But, he did it unknowingly because he was just that comfortable with you. It was making him overwhelmed. He could see that you were panicking. You had told him that you don't want this to ruin your friendship and he promised you that it wouldn't. His heart was in a million pieces but he couldn't bear to see you sad. So he did what he did best- act cool and unbothered about it. Every time he came across something on his social media accounts, he just ignored it. Acted like he didn't see any of it. Just to keep himself sane.

And then some fans started stalking the two of you every time you were together and that pissed him off. Joaquin wasn't one to get ticked off easily. But when it came to your safety, he was lethal. He saw the sneaky pictures some fans had taken of the two of you and his first thought was to protect you. So, he subtly appointed security that would take care of the both of you and kept checking on you every day. Joaquin continued to act coolly as if nothing happened only for your sake and because if he didn't, he was going to end up doing something embarrassing and drive you away from him. And he wasn't sure if his vulnerable heart could handle that. You were his guardian angel, he was better with you and intended to keep it that way forever.

-

The two of you were back in the States and you had an interview with IMDB today. You and Joaquin were wearing matching outfits. He was wearing a satin shirt that was dusky in colour with some dark brown pants. His hair was perfectly quaffed again and he was wearing that goddamn golden necklace, again. You were matching him in a cute dress with ruffles on the bottom, it was also dusky in color and had a colorful flower embroidery on the chest. You paired it with maroon heels and some golden half-hoop earrings with your hair styled in a barbie-like high ponytail.

The two of you had clicked loads of pictures before leaving for the interview and he had posted a selfie of you two on his Instagram story- you were pressing your cheeks to each other and cheesing at the camera. He had captioned it 'twinning with da bestie' and had tagged you in it.

Your cheeks were red and your heart was in pain at the same time. You didn't dare to open your Instagram the whole day.

"So, I saw the trailer and it really broke my heart. They're so sweet to each other. The two of you are best friends in real life, how was it like acting like a married couple and how did you prepare for the emotional scenes? Did it feel personal?", the interviewer asked the two of you.

You let out a deep sigh and Joaquin 'oof'ed.

"Wow, that's a pretty deep question..", Joaquin trailed off and chuckled weakly.

It was really difficult. Both of you knew how emotionally taxing it was to film this movie and you were glad that you had each other.

"Yeah, oh man, there were days where it felt like...i had no tears left to cry and there were days where my eyes were swollen from crying so much", you admitted.

Joaquin nodded in agreement.

"I remember requesting for a 15 minute break after this particularly rough scene. She was completely spent. Her face was red from crying, her throat was scratchy because we were shouting at each other, and her eyes were completely bloodshot. At one point i just stopped and took a pause because it was hurting me to watch her get so worked up. We almost never fight, and after a point, it felt like we were actually fighting, you know?", Joaquin explained.

You turned to look at him in awe. "Wait, I thought.. that was just a cut...I don't remember any of that...", you trailed off, surprised. You were truly out of it that day. All the screaming, crying, had gotten to you and you had just broken down mid scene. Watching Joaquin get so angry and raise his voice at you had hurt you for real. You thought a break was announced because the director asked for it. You had no idea Joaquin requested it for you? Your stomach felt like it was doing jumping jacks.

Joaquin turned to look at you fondly. "Yeah, you were so immersed into the scene, (nickname), that you didn't realise you were hyperventilating. I could see your hands shaking so I asked for a break and we helped you wind down. She was fucking brilliant in the scene, though", he brought his hand behind your chair to rub your shoulder blades gently and confessed to the interviewer.

Your breath hitched and your eyes filled with tears. He was so attentive and in tune with your emotions, it was painful. You gave him a grateful smile before clearing your throat and sniffled. "What the hell, you're ruining my make-up, 'Quino."

The interviewer smiled and extended a tissue box which Joaquin took in his hands and handed you a tissue. You thanked him softly and wiped your tears and he looked at you with concern. He leaned his head closer to you and whispered, "you okay?", his brown eyes blown wide and something else shining in them.

You looked at him with teary eyes and nodded your head yes. He flashed you a sweet smile and returned the tissue box before sitting up straight. "You see how difficult it was?!", he pointed at you.

All three of you chuckled at that.

"Honestly, I could do this because of him. He was there to catch me when i fell and he offered me support on my toughest days, like he's been doing always", you responded sincerely and patted Joaquin's back gently, "And to answer your question, yes, it definitely felt personal because the fights, the trauma shared by the two of them, was something we would unknowingly carry home. But, this guy would take me to eat ice-cream after filming and that was the highlight of my day", you finished while chuckling.

Joaquin let out a bashful laugh and shook his head. His back felt warm where your hand was still resting on it.

-

After the interview was over, the two of you sat in the van to go back to the hotel you were staying in. This was the last interview of this press tour and you were so glad that it was over, although you would miss working with Joaquin again.

You let out a long, tiring sigh. "Finally we're done for the day, I just wanna crash on my bed right now", you groaned while removing your heels and stretching your toes. Your toes were red and you could feel a shoe bite on the back of your heel.

Joaquin looked at your toes and winced. "You should've carried some flats, (nickname). You wanna stop by the medical store?"

"No, it's alright. I'll treat them at the hotel", you reassured him with a soft smile. He smiled back at you and leaned back in his seat.

You looked away to gently massage your feet and you missed the way Joaquin was looking at you.

He was observing the way your hair fell softly by your shoulders, your soft arms, the way your perfume smelled like something floral that was so addictive that he has to clench his hands together to stop leaning in and taking a sniff. Joaquin clenched his jaw tightly and looked out of the window.

You leaned back in your seat and thought back to his confession today.

“‘Quino?”

He quickly turned his head to look at you and hummed for you to continue.

“Thank you”, you confessed sincerely and gave him a warm smile. His face twisted in confusion. You chuckled quietly.

“For looking after me on set, thank you.”

His face broke out in a radiant smile and ducked his head.

“Oh, come on. That’s my job as your best friend. I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”,he conceded and nudged you lightly.

You gave him a tentative smile. Your heart twisted painfully at the word ‘best friend’. “Yeah, I know. Right back at you.”

The two of continued to stare at each other intently before you cleared your throat.

Joaquin looked away, his cheeks dusted with pink, but you were too busy hiding your own warm cheeks to notice that.

“Uh- you’re coming to the wrap party, right?”

You made a face. This was the fifth wrap party you’ve had since you finished filming the movie. You were tired and you just wanted a vacation.

“No. Don’t make that face, (Name). You can’t ditch me like that!”, Joaquin chided you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Joaquin. This is the fifth party. What is so different about this one? I’m so tired please leave me alone”, you whined, dragging out the ‘e’.

He gaped at you. “Dude. You literally promised me that you were attending. I cancelled all my plans for you!”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the biggest social butterfly alive, you’ll be fine without me”, you waved him off.

A slight hurt look crossed his eyes. “Okay, no. That’s not true. And, it’s your party too! You’re literally the lead of the film.”

You side eyed him and ignored the ‘lead’ comment. “You always end up yapping to everyone in the room and I’m sitting in a corner with a drink clutched in my hands, waiting for you to come back. Hell no, I’m not going.”

His face softened. He knew you hated these parties and only attended for his sake. He felt bad that you felt neglected by him.

“Hey, no. I’m sorry. I’ll stick by you, I promise. Come with me?”, he widened his eyes and pouted at you. You don’t even think he was making that face knowingly.

“You’ll sit by me and inform me about wherever you’re going?”

He nodded.

“And you’ll let me leave the moment I tell you that I wanna go home?”

He nodded twice.

“And you won’t force me to dance?”

He made a face before begrudgingly nodding his head yes.

Joaquin loved dancing. And he loved dancing with you even more. But you only danced when the two of you were alone and he tried his best to get you on the dance floor with him.

You observed him for a second and his jutted out his bottom lip before taking your hand in both of his. You rolled your eyes. “Okay.”

Joaquin’s eyes widened. “Really?!”

You huffed out a laugh. “Yes, dumbass.”

He flashed you his gorgeous smile before holding your chin in his hand. He titled your face slightly and gave you a soft kiss on your cheek, before quickly pulling away.

You froze.

Did he just…kiss you?? Joaquin Torres kissed you. The man that you were stupidly in love with for the past 3 years…..just kissed you. And he was acting like nothing happened. What the fuck.

If you had the ability to listen to people’s heartbeats, you would’ve heard that Joaquin’s heart was beating so fast that you’d think he was going to pass out. Blood rushed to his face and his ears and he was so sure that his entire face was the same shade as a tomato.

You swallowed thickly and luckily you didn’t have to say anything further as the van approached your hotel.

You hastily put on your heels before clearing your throat. Unfortunately for your current situation, your rooms were on the same floor. So you had to wait for him and behave normally.

Joaquin turned to look at you with longing in his eyes. The two of you got out of the car and you stumbled a little because of your sore feet. Joaquin quickly stood next to you and steadied you with his hands on your shoulders. People were definitely going to talk but you were too distracted to think about all that right now.

“Careful. Here, I’ll help”, he offered you gently and helped you walk. You took a few steps further and let out a series of winces. It hurt. The skin of your heel was completely red and agitated.

Joaquin stopped immediately. “Alright, remove those and give ‘em to me”, he huffed out.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re joking? You’re gonna make me walk on this nasty concrete?”

He looked at you and raised his eyebrows. “Should I carry you, then?”, he sassed back.

You shot him an irritated look. As you were about to bend down to remove your heels, he dropped down to crouch by your feet and carefully, oh so gently, removed the right heel before slowly guiding your foot to… are those his shoes?

"Wait-Joaquin, what are you doing?! How are you going to wal-"

"Just shut up and wear them, babe." Babe?!

Before you could even have a reaction to that, he had slipped on his shoes on your feet and he stood up, holding both of your heels in one of his hands. You looked at him, standing next to you in his sock-clad feet, not caring about how many people would notice that. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to help you walk and both of you went to the reception to collect your key cards.

Joaquin walked you to your room and patiently waited for you to unlock it. You scanned the key card and opened door. As soon as you entered your room, you removed his shoes while gesturing at him to wear them and took your heels back from him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he wore his shoes and awkwardly stood outside the door, his hands deep in his pockets.

You cleared your throat and broke the silence. "Well, goodnight, Joaquin. I'll...see you at the party." A look of hurt flickered across his eyes but he blinked it away quickly and nodded his head.

“Okay. Night, (Name)”, he spoke quietly, as if his voice was stuck in his throat. You were so close, yet you were suddenly so far.

You gave him a half-smile before slowly closing the door.

Joaquin waited outside your door for while and felt a dull ache in his chest. He couldn’t believe that he had fucked up so bad. What was he thinking? Kissing you like that? And- calling you babe?! He shut his eyes in embarrassment and clenched his hand into a fist. His throat was choked up with unshed tears and it made him feel extremely uncomfortable so he rushed to his room and decided to sleep over it.

You, on the other hand, were confused between crying or laughing because not only had Joaquin kissed you on the cheek but he had called you babe? Maybe he was just being friendly. He was clingy after all. But...no it can't be. He can't be interested in you like that.

So, you decided on crying. Your chest hurt with longing. He was so close yet so far. And you weren't sure if you were ready to face him again tomorrow.

-

Next morning, you woke up feeling worse. You were anxious and restless and you were dreading going out of your room. So you called up your manager and told her that you'd be having your breakfast in your room today and that they should go ahead. She asked you what should they tell Joaquin and you paused. You were so close that both of your teams knew to keep you posted about each other when you were working together. You just told her that you will handle that on your own. And approximately fifteen minutes later, your phone lit up with text notifications.

Quino🦁: why are u not at breakfast?

You sighed before typing out a response that would convince him.

You: i just need to be alone for sometime

Quino🦁: are you okay? U want me to come over?

You: No..u know i need to wind down before going to a party...ill be fine dw 👍

Quino🦁: Ok.. Text me if u need anything, (Nickname)

You: yes i will, torres

Your phone pinged again and it was another text from Joaquin. He had sent a selfie of him holding up his plate in front of the camera and he was pouting into the camera with the caption 'miss u'. You let out a giggle. "So stupid..", you trailed off with a smile on your face. You responded with an 'aww' and smiled at the photo before remembering whatever happened the night before. You groaned and fell back into the pillows before getting up and finally starting your day. The party would start in the evening and before that you had to do a small photoshoot for a brand collaboration and this meant that thankfully, you were busy for the whole day before you had to face Joaquin again.

Joaquin couldn't help but feel uneasy throughout the day. This was the longest he’d gone without talking to you. From the moment he didn't see you at breakfast, he knew something was up but he also knew that you needed your space sometimes so he let you be. But then he overheard your manager talk about a photoshoot and his day just got worse. The two of you departed awkwardly last night and now he couldn't see you until the evening. He was starting to get antsy. Joaquin thought of shooting you a text but decided against it, not wanting to disturb you. So he waited until you would see him later this evening.

-

Finally, it was evening and it was time for the party. You were going to the party straight from your photoshoot so you did your make up and outfit at the set itself. You had decided to wear a cute, sleeveless red dress and the sleeves thinned at the back into straps, with a big light pink bow joining them at the waist, paired with light-pink box heels that wouldn't agitate your feet further. Your hair was sleeked back into a bun with a few strands of hair curled at the front, with minimal makeup.

In your rush, you had forgotten to text Joaquin and as you were about to leave the set, you collided with a body. You stumbled back before an arm shot out to catch you by your waist.

“Shit-‘Quino?”, you asked, your heart beating faster because of the scare of almost falling on the hard concrete and because it was Joaquin who had saved you from falling. “What are you doing here?”

Joaquin was too busy admiring you to answer your question. You looked so pretty. Like a doll. His mouth was open slightly as he carefully took in your features.

“Hello? Joaquin?”, you waved a hand in front of his face. He snapped out of his stupor and pulled you up carefully. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his curls.

“Uh- you weren’t answering my texts…got a lil worried and thought I’d come over to check on you”, he admitted in a low voice and scratched the back of his head.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I was running late so I decided to get ready here at the set itself. Didn’t get a chance to check my phone”, you responded sheepishly.

It was then you finally got a good look at him. He was wearing a white tee inside a black jacket and he had paired it with some black pants. His hair was free of any product so his curls were more pronounced. And he was wearing his glasses. You loved it when he wore his glasses because they made him look even more prettier. He forgot them way too often for someone who couldn’t see without them.

“You’re finally wearing your glasses!”, you smiled at him and pointed a finger towards his glasses.

His face broke out in a smile.

“You know I can’t see properly at night. Forget about me though, you…you look like a Barbie, (Nickname)”, his voice took on a soft, velvety tone.

Your cheeks felt warm and you ducked your head.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious! Be ready ‘cus you’re gonna get compliment after compliment the whooooole night!”

You shoved his shoulder and laughed. “Alright, that’s enough. We’re getting late, let’s move!”

Both of you were just glad that everything was normal in between you two now. The two of you sat in the car and left for the venue. The car ride was thankfully uneventful aa the two of you scrolled through your phones and shared memes. The car finally reached the venue and you got out of it with Joaquin’s help. He offered you his arm and you settled your hand in the crook of his arm.

The party had a small photo call with a carpet. One of the producers had thrown the party so there were at-least 20 paparazzis present and they were shouting and yelling at you two for a picture. You and Joaquin clicked a few pictures on the carpet and entered the venue.

The moment you entered the venue, you saw Sam Wilson- a mutual friend of you two and a fellow actor. He was especially fond of you and Joaquin- he was like your surrogate father. He had discovered Joaquin and that’s how you know each other. Over time, the three of you got so close that you had a fixed hang out at the end of every month/week. Sam spotted the two of you and came over to give you both a bear hug.

“My movie stars!”, Sam said gleefully and hugged you two tightly.

You giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Sammy!”

“Hey, man”, Joaquin chuckled and patted Sam’s back.

Sam pulled back and narrowed his eyes at you two. “Y’all are late. The time was 4pm not 5pm. A whole hour late!”

Joaquin looked at you smugly and crossed his arms.

You flashed him a sheepish smile. “Uh- I was busy with a photoshoot so I was running a little late. Sorry!”

Sam squinted his eyes at you and let out a big laugh. “Ah, You’re forgiven. This is your party anyways. Come on, everyone’s waiting for you!” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and dragged the two of you in the packed room. “And I’ve got a surprise for you”, Sam nudged you and diverted your attention towards the bar.

And the first person you spotted was- “Bucky!”, you took off towards him to give him a big hug.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was another fellow actor and Sam’s best friend (you lowkey believed they were in love with each other.) Sam randomly introduced the two of you to Bucky and you quickly became friends. He was one of the finest actors you'd ever seen onscreen but his off camera persona was like a complete 180 degrees. He connected with you more than Joaquin because he thought Joaquin was way too much for him. (you believed that he was actually fond of Joaquin but he loved to bully him for fun because Joaquin was intimidated by him.)

Bucky was a huge grump and found it difficult to be friends with people because of his social anxiety. How did him and Sam become friends? You have no idea. But it seemed like the only people he put up with were you and Sam. And he had a major case of the Resting Bitch Face so people were afraid to approach him. But once they got past his initial awkwardness and intense stares, he was really sweet and helpful. You absolutely loved talking to him and spending time with him, even though the two of you were completely different than the other. He was a little old fashioned but you loved taking interest in his stories and he adored you for that. He even jokingly called you his daughter once.

Bucky turned around and his face lit up. "Hi, doll", he replied happily and gathered you in his arms. His arms went around your back and he leaned his chin on top of your head.

You broke the hug and held him by the forearms. "How are you? I haven't seen you in three months!", you pouted.

Bucky let out a chuckle. "You were the busy one, Miss worldwide!"

You blushed and slapped his arm gently. "Shut up. It's so good to see you again, I missed you", you lowered your voice, "And I bet Sam did too", you winked at him.

He groaned loudly and lightly covered your face with his palm. "You're annoying as hell, you know that?"

You let out a gleeful laugh and tried to bite his hand. He yelped and took his hand away.

"Oh, and what about you, huh? Pining over your own best friend in front of the whole world?"

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Shut up, James."

Bucky hummed sarcastically and leaned back against the bar counter. "You're telling me to shut up right now but you're gonna come back and cry to me about your silly little crush."

You ducked your head and frowned.

Bucky saw this nudged you gently.

“Hey, why don’t you just tell him?”

You whipped your head up and widened your eyes at him. “No way. Why would I ever tell him? It’s gonna ruin-”

“-your friendship, I know. But you’re the smartest person I know, doll. Are you sure he doesn’t love you back?”

You furrowed your eyebrows and opened and closed your mouth like a fish. There’s no way Joaquin returned your feelings, right? But…no. There’s just no way.

In the distance, Joaquin was watching the entire exchange with a longing and adoring look in his eyes. He didn't notice Sam look at him and shake his head in disbelief.

"Man, the whole room can see you drooling right now. Just tell her how you feel, Torres", Sam exasperated.

"W-what?", Joaquin sputtered. It's not like Sam didn't know about his feelings for you. But saying it out loud made Joaquin shudder.

Sam scoffed. "What? You think we don't see it? Everybody knows, man. And how do ya'll not see the way you look at each other?"

Joaquin froze and felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. "What do you mean?"

Sam let out a pitiful sigh. "Joaquin, she loves you. It's in her eyes. How did you not notice it?", he explained to Joaquin gently and clapped a hand on Joaquin's shoulder.

Joaquin's ears were ringing. He was going to faint. There's no way that you love him and he didn't notice. There's just no way that you love him.

"No...Sam, she doesn't-", Joaquin's voice cracked. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. He swallowed thickly to get rid of them and shook his head in disagreement.

Sam softened his eyes and gave him a gentle smile. "Man, she looks at you like you saved her life. The other day, she told me she carried a knee brace with her because your knee injury troubled you sometimes and in case you needed one if you forgot to bring yours. She carries extra snacks because you get hungry in between takes. Did you know she learned how to make caldo de pollo from your mom incase you were sick and away from home?"

Joaquin's eyes widened and he snapped his head to look at Sam. You learned his mom's recipe? Of his favourite dish? "What?", he whispered.

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah. You're an idiot, Torres. I could see that, the fans could see that, hell, I am sure your families saw it too. How did you not notice?"

Joaquin's mouth fell open and he turned his head to look at you. You were still chatting with Bucky, your face changing a million expressions per second and oh, you looked like an angel. His angel. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked back at Sam.

"I'm scared, Sam", he said in a meek and quiet voice.

Sam looked at him with sympathy. "I know. But, you gotta tell her someday. I promise you, she's waiting for you to make a move”, he squeezed Joaquin’s shoulder in encouragement.

Joaquin took a deep breath in and tried to keep his tears at bay. He was going to be a mess. And if you walked out, he was going to be an even bigger mess in front of everyone. He weakly nodded his head at Sam and made his way over to you. It’s now or never. And whatever happens, he’d try to hold onto you until he gave up his last breath.

Your back was facing him and Bucky was the first one to notice him approach you. Bucky nudged you and you turned around. Joaquin’s breath stilled. You looked so gorgeous in this lighting. His hands twitched with the want to hold you close.

Bucky cut through the tension first.

“Hi, Torres.”

Joaquin snapped his eyes over to Bucky and cleared his throat.

“H-Hi, Bucky. How are you?”, he held out a hand. Bucky shook his hand firmly and nodded at him, his ocean blue eyes cutting through his skin.

“Good. You did a good job in the movie. And I hope this one didn’t give you much trouble”, Bucky joked.

You punched him in his bicep. “Why don’t you shut up, Barnes. It’s bedtime for you anyways.”

Both of them laughed before Joaquin finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mind if I steal her for a minute?”

Bucky gave you a knowing look. “Yeah, of course. She’s all yours.”

Both of your cheeks tinged with pink.

Joaquin shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for you to join him. You gave a parting look to Bucky and walked away with Joaquin.

Sam joined Bucky at the bar counter and leaned back, watching the two of disappear into the crowd. Bucky leaned his head to the right. “You think it’s happening tonight?”

“Oh definitely”, Sam replied with confidence.

-

Joaquin’s heart was going to explode. His blood pressure must be high as fuck right now. He was this close to fainting. But he pushed that down and gently grabbed your hand in his to guide you through the crowd. Your hand was so soft, he was going to cry. It was getting too crowded and it was making him feel more cornered so he came up with an idea.

“Should we get outta here?”, he suddenly turned around and spoke in your ear.

Your eyes widened and you leaned in close to speak by his ear. “We just came here and you already wanna sneak out of our own party? Are you crazy?!”

He leaned back and gave you a smirk that screamed trouble. Joaquin Torres was the only person in this world who could make you sneak out and break rules. He guided you out of the venue and called for your car. He opened the door and helped you settled down before walking around the car and sitting by the steering wheel. He started the car and drove off before anybody else noticed the two of you.

“Joaquin! Where are we going?”, you asked him while giggling.

He chuckled and glanced at you before turning his attention back to the front. “Be patient, angel. You’ll find out soon.”

Your cheeks heated up. His voice turned so soft and delicate when he called you angel. You wanted to kick your feet and giggle like a little schoolgirl.

You decided to finally ask him. “This is the second time you’ve done that”, you asked him quietly.

Joaquin feigned confusion and furrowed his brows. “Done what?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Quino.”

“I don’t”, he shrugged.

You sighed and shook your head in disbelief. He was a pain in your ass.

You chose not to say anything further and looked out of the window, watching building pass by and that scene soon over took a trail of trees. He sneaked glances at you and worried his bottom lip out of nervousness. He parked the car in a parking lot and walked over to your side. He opened the door and offered you a hand to help you get out of the car.

As soon as you got out, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your bare shoulders. He grabbed your hand in his and walked you over to a nearby dock.

The dock was overlooking the skyline and it was lit up with dim lights which made it look even more peaceful. There was no rush today so you could freely walk without any disturbance. And you had reached the place perfectly on time because you could see the breathtaking sunset behind the skyline. That, combined with the gentle breeze and sound of the water immediately calmed you down.

“Whoa..”, you whispered in awe as you took in the vibrant shades of orange, blue and purple across the sky. Joaquin wasn’t interested in that sunset. His spectacled eyes were completely focused on you. He ran his eyes across your face which was illuminated beautifully by the sunset.

You could feel his stare on the side of your face. Your face heated up. “Stop staring at me like that, Jay.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He turned you to face him and slowly dragged his fingers down your arm to intertwine your fingers with his. You looked down at your hands and shyly looked up in his eyes.

“Why are we here, Joaquin?”,you whispered.

His eyes turned shiny behind his glasses. The slight breeze tousled his curls, making him look boyish.

“I wanna tell you something. But you gotta promise me that you won’t freak out”, he murmured in a shaky voice.

Your face twisted in concern and you tightened your fingers around his. “What happened?”

You watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

Joaquin took a deep breath in and decided to spill out everything that he had suppressed for the last 3 years.

“Angel, from the moment I saw you…you took my breath away. You came in with your shy, sweet personality and swept me off my feet. Then you smiled at for the first time, and I was a goner. I thought, I’m so lucky to be able to be in your orbit. But then, everytime I thought of telling you all this, you’d remind me that we’re best friends and I’d shut up”, he chuckled weakly.

Your eyes had widened and your vision was blurry because of the tears in your eyes.

“But, it’s been so hard, (nickname). Everytime I look at you I feel like my heart is going to explode. Because I can’t hold you for longer. Because you’re so close, yet so far. Because you were out of reach for me since I’m supposed to be your best friend. You were so worried about what everyone was saying about our closeness that I pushed my feelings back into the deepest part of my heart”, he paused to let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know if I can be your best friend anymore. I don’t know how much longer can I pretend to be okay about all this. I wanna be yours. Completely. You’re the reason why I breathe. You’re the reason why I’m a better human today. You’re the reason why I wake up in the morning. You have no idea how scared I was these past few days because I thought I’d ruined everything. I don’t wanna lose you, angel. But I can’t pretend that I’m not in love with you anymore”, the tears that he was trying so hard to contain, finally flowed down his rosy cheeks.

You were fully frozen to your spot at this point. Was this really happening? You waited for 3 years to hear this from his mouth. Was he really standing here in front of you and confessing all this? Were you really that blind? You didn’t even realise that you were crying.

Joaquin’s face twisted in pain and concern. He released your hands to cup your cheeks and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry, angel. You’re scaring me.”

You snapped out of your daze and whimpered. You brought up your shaky hands and held his wrists.

“Is this really happening, Quino?”, you whispered to him, your words warbled because of the sob you were trying to contain.

He sniffled and gave you a soft smile.

“I love, love, love you, angel.”

That was all it took for you to break out in a sob and tackle him in a hug. You hugged him by the neck tightly and his arms went around your waist to pull you close to him. He buried his face in your neck and you buried yours in his curls. Painful sobs left your throat and his tears were soaking the skin of your neck.

After a while you pulled apart and cupped his cheeks in your hands. His handsome face had turned red from all the crying and his glasses were smudged. You sniffled and carefully removed his glasses to fold them and put them in his jacket’s pocket. You brought your hands back to his face and brushed his curls away from his forehead. His eyes closed in content and his hands caressed your back gently.

“I’ve been wanting- begging to some higher power- to hear that for the last 3 years”, you confessed in a shaky voice.

His eyes widened. Sam was right.

You gave him a tiny smile. “I’ve been ridiculously in love with you for a really long time, Quino.”

His breath hitched. He was pretty sure his legs had turned into lead. There’s just no way he didn’t catch that. 3 years. Both of you were idiots.

“I was so afraid of telling you. I didn’t wanna lose you. You’re so sweet to me, it hurt. Because I couldn’t tell you that I loved you or kiss you stupid every-time you did something for me. You’re everything to me, Joaquin. Whatever I do, I do it for you. You’re the reason why I keep pushing, my personal sunshine”, you let out a shaky chuckle.

His eyes teared up again but he chuckled. “Both of us are idiots, you know that right?”

You giggled. “I know!”

His expression turned somber again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. We missed so much time”, he whispered in an apologetic manner. You squished his cheeks in your hands and he brought you closer to his chest. Your lips were almost touching.

“Hey, no. We have all the time in the world. I’m just glad you told me. Otherwise I was bound to do something stupid like- grab you by your stupid necklaces and just kiss you”, you replied cheekily.

That brought out a genuine laugh from him.

“What? My neck-” you didn’t give him a chance to respond because you gently pulled him closer by his necklace and crashed your lips to his. You finally did it.

He let out a squeal before kissing you back and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Your lips fit against each other like they were meant to be. He pulled back to suck on your bottom lip before releasing it and kissing you whole on the mouth. You dragged your hand across his chest and buried it in the curls at the nape of his neck. He wasn’t that tall, but tall enough for you to go on your tip toes. Your noses were smushed against each other and you finally broke away for air.

Breathless and cheeks flushed, you leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. He ran a hand across your back and cupped your nape to bring you closer, your noses touching. Both of you wanted to crawl into each other’s skin.

You let out a breathy giggle and pressed kisses to his nose. “I love, love, love, you”, you gave his nose a kiss for every “love” and rubbed your nose against his.

He pulled back and stared at your radiant face before ducking his head to pepper kisses across your face. You squealed and fisted his t shirt in your hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your nose, your eyes, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth and finally placed a loving, gentle kiss on your lips with a beautiful sunset behind you.

“I love you. So much”, he murmured against your lips. You smiled against his lips.

You hummed and looked in his eyes with your arms around his neck. “It’s crazy that the fans were right.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m not happy with how they were treating you”, he growled.

You stared at him in amusement and rubbed his chest soothingly with a hand. “Calm down, Simba. We’ll get back to that later.”

He let out a content sigh and pulled away from you before asking you to go on your tippy toes. You went up and wrapped your arms around his neck again and his went around your waist before he pressed his cheek against yours and closed his eyes in contentment while swaying the two of you gently.

Your cheeks pulled up as your smiled adoringly and pressed yourself closer to him and watched the sunset.

You and Joaquin were meant to be and your life was turning out to be just like a movie.

-

AN: sorry this one was so fucking long!! But as I was writing this, I fell more and more in love with this idea. I love these two so bad and I will write a part two which will be based on their established relationship and on all the interviews that tom and zendaya have done during NWH press.

Please like and reblog!!!

[sacredsorceress]

the fling / bob reynolds

pairing: bob reynolds x f!avengers!reader summary: bob finds out that you had a one night stand with bucky a few years earlier and feelings bubble to the surface. a/n: heavy on the dialogue since i'm still trying to learn how to write for these characters I'm sorry. for the people who went to thunderbolts for bucky and walked out with a crush on bob- I hope this is okay!! first time writing in a bit word count: 4.3k warnings: no smut, but there are mentions of sexual content so minors please dni!!, former one night stand with bucky (y/n living the dream life fr), john walker!! jumpscare!! (kidding, but he is in it), feelings of worthlessness- anything that would have been in thunderbolts*, drug mention

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Just one more time?" You asked. "Please? For me?"

Maybe you batted your eyelashes on purpose- your smile soft and warm, as you brushed your baby hairs from your face. Maybe it was on accident. Even you had been unable to differentiate between the blurred lines of how you instinctively reacted to his presence versus when you consciously tried to impress him.

You had been in the training room for an hour and although the ceiling fan whirred incessantly above the both of you and the fluorescent lighting had begun to give you a headache, you weren't ready to quit.

A glass of water stood on the far side of the room, among a few small puddles that had spilt as Bob had tried (and failed) to successfully raise it in the air telekinetically. A month earlier you had offered to help train Bob; with abilities the most similar to his out of anyone in the group, it felt like a natural step.

But as days turned to weeks, you needed a win just as much as him.

"Try to feel the energy running through you." You said, laying your hand against his shoulder. "I can feel it radiating off of you. You have to remind yourself that you're the one in control, Bob."

Bob's skin rose underneath his sweater- tiny goosebumps scattered across the expanse of his body. A shiver ran down his spine at the spark of your touch. As your hand trailed from his shoulder down his arm, his heart raced.

"It's all you." You whispered. "Now concentrate. Focus on the energy coursing through you. From your fingertips, up your arms," your fingers tracing up his arm as you spoke until they reached for his chest. "...to your heart..."

When Bob could feel your fingertips ghosting over his chest, pressing through the sweater that hung loosely on his frame, his breath hitched. His brain- a jumble of emotions that had far less to do with whatever god-like power was flowing through his veins and more to do with the brain of a man fogged by the woman he loved- lost focus on the task at hand.

His eyes screwed shut as the glass shattered in midair.

"Nice going, Bobby." Walker called, learning against the door frame.

Suddenly aware of how close you had become, you swiftly pulled away from Bob.

You scoffed.

"Don't be an ass, John."

The tension in the room was palpable as the three of you stood in silence. Only the mechanic whir of the fan click, click, clicking as it rattled on the ceiling kept you from hearing each other's breaths.

Glancing between John and Bob, you rolled your eyes and scooped your things up off the floor.

"Good work today, Bob." You said turning back with one last smile as you headed for the door. "See you at dinner."

Bob raised his hand to say something back, but before he could, you had scurried out of the room leaving him with Walker. Wonderful.

As if the room had been vacuum sealed and released, it was as though the liveliness of the room had been sucked out with your departure.

John gestured to the door.

"So you two are getting close, huh?" He asked, striding into the room with a beer bottle in his hand.

Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks- was it that obvious?

"Oh uh... I guess." Bob smiled politely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

John's feet dragged against the floor as he walked, the sound of rubber against concrete like nails on a chalkboard in Bob's ears. Walker's gaze travelled across the room as if he was seeing it for the first time and hadn't trained in it himself daily, until his focus landed on the water spill from moments earlier. He kicked a stray piece of glass with his foot.

The super soldier cleared his throat.

"You know, man-to-man, Bobby: I'd be careful with her if I was you." Walker chuckled dryly. "Y'know, after what happened with Bucky."

Just as quickly as it had raced by your touch, his heart now stopped.

Everything that had been bothering him previously- the mechanic clicking of the fan, the bright white lights that reminded him a bit too much of a ward, the crisp tag that scratched the back of his neck, the way John spoke with drops of beer still hanging on his lips- it was endless, really- had faded into the background.

What did Bucky have to do with you?

He fidgeted with his hands, digging into the nail beds that were still dried with blood.

"What uh.." A nervous laugh escaped his throat. "What happened with Bucky?"

"Hooked up." Walker said, bringing the bottle to his lips. "Yeah.. it was like, a while ago back in my Captain America days." He raised his eyebrows. A pause. "She didn't tell you?"

As much as Bob had a difficult time lifting a glass, his heart had no problem dropping into his stomach.

One thing that Bob had always been cursed with from a young age was a hyper-active imagination that rarely ever served his own benefit. Now, it plagued him with the idea of you and Bucky together. Blurry images of you falling into bed together- your laugh in his ear. His lips on yours. His hands running up and down the length of your body...

He could be sick.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They all had their flaws but Bucky had been forced into a life of heinous acts and had still managed to come out on top. Captain America's best friend. A hero against Thanos. Fuck, he was even a congressman... meanwhile you had been there to witness the vivid memory of Bob high out of his mind working as a sign flipper first hand. He didn't even work for his abilities, he received them on the hunt for another high.

What was he thinking?

Bob's eyes fell to his hands as they fiddled in his lap and he shook his head.

"No uh, no..." He coughed, attempting to mask the tremble in his voice. "She never um.. mentioned it."

"Huh."

"What?"

John took another swig from his bottle.

"Nothing, nothing..." Walker said with a shrug. "I just figured you guys were close. Always hanging out n' all."

And by all means you were.

There was no coffee run complete without Bob's vanilla milkshake, or a night where you fell asleep on the couch without him by your side. He tasted everything you made before it managed to find its way into the oven. He came with you to every bookstore and supermarket run under the guise of 'wanting to feel useful', while really just wanting to observe you in mundanity outside the tower and carry the bags for you effortlessly home.

Him and Yelena were close, but you and him were partners.

Bob had understood that his more-than-friendly feelings for you would likely have been in vain, but he had never considered that yours were already taken by another.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Bob tugged at his hair and scratched the scruff that had begun to grow on his jaw.

"Yeah..." He shrugged. "I mean.."

John sized Bob up, trying to estimate how he was feeling. He was a difficult one to read- chronically calm in the face of adversity as if it was the life he was assigned to live. Staring at the polite smile that Walker could've sworn was glued to Bob's face, he accepted that he wouldn't know.

"Well, anyway," John said. "Time for dinner, right?"

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Can I ask you a question?"

It was a simple question. One that you didn't think would have much bearing. Afterall, the two of you were finally organizing your bookshelf- the final step in making Avengers Tower your home. You figured that it would be about where to place a book or how you liked it.

You would have never anticipated where the conversation was heading.

You absentmindedly flipped through the pages of one of your paperbacks before slipping it onto the shelf.

"You can ask me anything, Bob." You replied. "I'm an open book."

Bob watched where you were knelt on the floor below. The sun peeking in through the window behind him had cast a golden glow on your face, highlighting the crinkles that formed as you focused on the task at hand.

Did he want to know if you were Bucky's? Now, with the two of you alone in your room, doing a mundane task like organizing your bookshelf he could convince himself that this was his life. That you were his.

The truth could shatter that illusion.

What was he thinking? Of course he wanted to know.

The sound of his sock feet shuffling on the floor pulled your focus from the shelf to his flushed face.

"Is everything okay, Bob?"

You pulled your hand from the pile and laid it gently against Bob's clothed leg.

Bob cleared his throat.

"Are you and Bucky.. are you... did you-" Bob tugged at his hair. "Fuck, uh.. this is awkward. Were you two ever...?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you listened and you swear you felt your blood pressure spike.

How did he know?

Bob was the last person on Earth you wanted knowing about your sex history- especially with someone so close to the two of you. His spluttering only dragged the moment on and you needed a mercy kill.

"Are you asking if Buck and I were a thing?"

Buck. Bob's mind raced. She's the only one in the tower he lets call him that. How did I not notice?

You watched him physically deflate once you posed the question for him- whether that was out of defeat or relief at the awkwardness being stripped from his own hands and shoved into your own, you weren't sure.

Your eyes trailed to the books in front of you.

"I guess, once." You replied trying to even the thumping in your chest. You were never sure of the extent of Bob's powers and if super-hearing had slipped its way into his skillset. "It was a one time thing. I think we just got lost in the heat of it all and when we were done with our mission, we got busy with our own things and it just... fizzled, you know? We're just friends now, Bob."

Without realizing it, your hands had clasped together, circling around one another nervously as you spoke. Noting your demeanor, you picked up another book from the pile.

"Walker just made it seem like-" Bob started.

Of fucking course it was Walker.

You shoved a hardcover into a free space on the shelf with a thud.

"Well Walker's an asshole." You stated flatly, loosing the composure that had been held together by the wringing of your hands. "There's nothing there, Bob. I mean, Buck is a good friend, but he's not the type of guy who'll grab coffee with you, or read your book recommendations, or-" You stopped yourself short, realizing the relationship you were describing was your own. "He's just.. he's not the guy for me."

A silence hung in the air for a brief moment until you could no longer take it.

"I'll be right back."

Before Bob had the chance to argue, you were on your feet, slipping through the door, and rushing down the hallway.

You welcomed yourself inside Yelena's room and shut the door behind you.

"I could kill John!"

Yelena, who had been sat on her bed reading, threw her book to the side.

"Uh, hello?" Yelena said pulling out an earbud. "Have you heard of knocking?"

Waving away her argument, you paced the length of her room.

"Walker told Bob that I had sex with Bucky."

Yelena had become well acquainted with John Walker's slights in the time since meeting him- he enjoyed getting under someone's skin like no other- a natural instigator- though, the team had become immune to it. But watching you now, burning a whole in the carpet with your pacing, Yelena realized she had never seen you so frantic.

"Well?" She asked. "Did you?"

You gave her a pointed look and sighed. That's all she needed to know.

Her jaw dropped.

"When was this!" She shouted, waving her arm in the air.

"Three years ago!" You yelled back. "But that's not the point- the point is that Walker told Bob!"

Yelena, quickly digesting the grenade of a revelation you just threw at her, shrugged.

"Well you just told me," she said. "Who cares if Bob knows?"

"I care!" You said flopping onto the bed. "It's different."

The blonde furrowed her brows.

"Why is it different?"

Staring up at her ceiling, you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Because you're a girl."

Yelena tapped her finger against her chin: "Well Walker knew and you did not care until he told Bob."

"That's because he was there, Yel." You argued. "I wouldn't want Alexei to know either."

A dry laugh escaped her lips.

"That is different." Yelena said. "Alexei would tell the whole world that you had sex with Barnes and the news would call you the Avengers' whore."

You reached for one of her pillows and threw it at her.

"Oh my god, Yelena!"

You hid your face in your palms.

"Not that I am calling you a whore!" She defended herself. "I am just saying-"

"Yelena." You said, face still hidden behind your hands. "Focus."

"I just do not understand why you care if Bob knows!" Yelena said with an exasperated sigh, running her hand in circles on your back. "You two are very close. He won't judge you. I mean, he is very awkward, but I am sure he's had sex before. It won't affect your-"

As if a cartoon lightbulb had appeared above her head, the thought finally came to her. Yelena ceased the motion with her hands.

"Wait." She said, pulling herself away from your touch. "Do you like him?"

You rolled your eyes.

"What are we?" You said, deflecting. "Kindergarteners?"

"Aha!" Yelena said, hopping off the bed. "I knew it!"

Somehow telling another person only made your feelings more real, tangible. Before you could deny that they had ever existed, but now that it was out in the open, you were vulnerable not only to your feelings but Bob's too. You could feel your face burning from the confession and groaned.

"You like Bob!" She said with a pout, as if it were the most wholesome idea in the world. "That is so cute. Why do you not you tell him?"

She asked it as if it were simple. As if the only thing that stood between you and what you wanted was a sentence. And that if things didn't go the way you hoped, that your desires would blow away like dust in the wind.

If anything, the revived information that you had a history with Bucky only further pushed down your inclination to confess your feelings to Bob. If three years had passed since a mutual one night stand and that was still haunting you, how would an unrequited love with your roommate be?

You weren't sure you could take it.

"You're joking, right?" You wrapped your arms around your legs and tucked your knee under your chin. "He's literally 'the golden god'. I mean Bob's just... he's so attractive and fit and nice... there's just no way he would feel the same and then it would make everything so awkward."

Yelena quirked her eyebrow at you.

"I am confused." She said. "Are we talking about the same Bob?"

You gave her a sad smile and swat at her arm.

"Yelena. I'm serious." Your argued. "Just think about it."

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, tut, tut, tuting you as she brushed her hand against your forehead.

"Y/n, before you started training with Bob, he could throw us all across the room without even thinking about it." Yelena said, stroking your hair. "Now, he can't even pick up a glass of water. Do you know why that is?"

You hadn't considered it.

"Do I make him uncomfortable?" You asked.

"No! I mean, yes, but it's not like that." She said, pulling away. "You make him so nervous that he cannot think straight. We all know that he's in love with you, we just did not think you felt the same."

You pulled yourself up onto your elbow to get a better look at Yelena, the sheets crinkling under your touch. In your chest, you swore you could feel your heart thumping against its cage.

Bob liked you? You?

As if you were a kid again you felt an adrenaline rush through your veins, begging you to hop off the bed, skip around the room and run into the arms of the man you loved.

But you were an adult who lived with both a man from your past and one who would, hopefully, be your future. Care and precision was needed.

"Really?" You asked, pressing your hand to your chest to steady your breathing. "Don't mess with me, Yelena."

Yelena laughed.

"Oh yes. He is very obvious." Yelena shook her head. "Always making the googly eyes at you when you talk and asking where you are... it's gross."

Without thinking, you closed the space between you and Yelena by gripping her hand.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." She assured you, squeezing your fingers, "And you should tell him. Now that he knows about Bucky it is going to mess with his head. It is better to tell him soon."

Suddenly, you thought of Bob's feelings. The way he must have felt learning about Bucky.. if you were in his shoes and he had been with a member of your group, you think you would be sick.

As much as you wanted him- to hold him, to tell him you love him and hear it back, to be able to call him yours- it wasn't your feelings that drove you, but Bob's.

Yelena could be wrong, but she could also be right. You couldn't risk the latter by fear of the former.

You'd tell him tonight.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

After your conversation with Yelena, you had headed back to your room only to find it abandoned by Bob. The afternoon had dragged on in agony, avoiding Bob like the plague until dinner. Even once the dishes had been served, wine was poured, and you had relaxed into your seat beside him, it had taken you all dinner to get up the nerve to speak to him again.

Afterall, what if Yelena's intuition was wrong?

"Can we talk after dinner?" You asked.

You turned your head towards Bob and whispered, careful that the other members of the table wouldn't hear. Bob, who had been half-heartedly been picking fries off of his plate the entire dinner, bit his tongue at the sound of your voice.

"Ow- what? Y-yeah," He said with a polite smile. "We can talk."

You smiled.

"Perfect." You smiled. "It's a date."

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Your footsteps were the first thing he heard.

They were soft, hesitant. As if you had to convince yourself to take another step. You had wrapped your sweater tight around yourself to brace the chill that came with being so high above the ground and all Bob could think was he would warm you up if you let him.

But he'd never say that.

Instead, he braced himself against the railing and greeted you with a wordless smile.

"Hey."

"Hi."

You glanced down at your shoes then back to his face.

Just do it.

"I'm sorry that you had to find out about Bucky and I from Walker." You glanced between Bob and the traffic lights on the street below. His stare, so filled with kindness and care, made your breath catch in your throat. "But it's only because it's one hundred percent in the past. And I... was afraid that you'd look at me differently because of it if you knew."

Bob, usually the victim of low self-confidence, hated the look on you. Not because it made you look weak or worthless, no- but that he wished he could take whatever weight it carried in your body and absorb it into his own. Valentina may have called him the golden god, but you were the shining light that kept him him.

"Why?" He asked. "I could never judge you."

Your eyes locked with his and for a brief moment it was like the rest of the world fell away. You studied the blue in his eyes and the way gold specs floated around in them- as if the power within him was always just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. You took it in. If this all went south, at least you could remember him like that.

"Fuck." You laughed, taking a sudden interest in your shoes. "This sounds so childish, but I really don't know how else to say it..." Wrapping your arms tighter around you to brace the wind, you looked up at him and smiled. "I like you, Bob. Like more than... more than I probably should."

A shiver visibly rattled your body as another gust of wind hit. Rather than suggest that you go inside, Bob laid his hands against your arms, warming them.

"What do you... what do you mean by that?" He asked.

"C'mon, Bob." You sighed, shielding your face in your palms and burying your face into his chest. "You know what I mean. I just look at you and don't even know what to do with myself anymore; and I know I'm supposed to be your friend, but I can't keep pretending that I'm not having a heart attack every time you look at me like that."

A deep sigh shook your frame.

"Anyway just tell me you don't feel the same and I'll forget it." You said, "and we can pretend this never happened."

He could feel his heart shatter in his chest.

He knew the tremble in your voice well. The tone. The complete lack of confidence. It was unfamiliar coming from your lips but he had heard it come from his own every time he opened his mouth. To hear it come from you was not just unfathomable, but heart breaking.

How you could think that way about yourself in comparison to him... he couldn't believe it.

"Don't... don't say that." He said no more than above a whisper. "You're like, just perfect to me."

Bob stepped back, leaving space to get a better look at you. Running his hands up your arms, he reached your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, gently as if one wrong move would make his earth shatter, and guided your face up to meet his gaze.

"Look, I'm uh.. I'm not good at this whole... relationship thing..." Bob said, eyes darting from your face to your hair, to the space behind you as the glimmer in your eyes made him nervous. "But I- I feel the same... About you."

He laughed. The same sweet, nervous laugh that followed you into your dreams and gave you a reason to come home; and you felt your heart swell at the familiar smile painted on his face- this time for you.

"Really?"

Your fingers clung to the fabric of his sweater as if you feared that if you let go, it would turn out to just a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah."

Tendrils hung in his eyes as he leaned further, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin and and breath fanning your face. When your noses touched, ever so slightly brushing at the tips, you placed your finger against his lips.

Confusion and hurt painted his features until you gestured behind him.

"We have company." You whispered.

Framed by the warm light of the tower behind them, five all-too-familiar figures watched from the doorway.

"Should we be worried about the two most powerful people on the planet being in love?" Ava asked, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

"I'm more worried about the mental stability of their future kids." John deadpanned.

"No!" Alexei argued, slapping his hands against Ava and Walker's backs. "What are you saying? They will make strong babies!" He raised his fist in the air: "And they will be the pride of the New Avengerz!"

"Alexei!" Yelena groaned. "Stop making it weird."

As if Yelena had physically stung him with her words, Alexei's hands flew to his own chest.

"I do not make it weird." He argued. "I am being supportive. How is that weird?"

"They have not even kissed and you are talking about super babies!" Yelena shouted. "You are lucky they cannot hear you."

You called back.

"Oh no, we can hear you!"

Bob pointed to his ears and mouthed: "Super hearing."

Still cradled in Bob's arms, your eyes met Bucky's from across the landing pad. He smiled softly.

"C'mon." Bucky said waving the onlookers inside. "Let's go. Leave them alone."

Waiting until they left your sight, you looked back at Bob and breathed him in. His cheeks had begun to burn a bright pink that was visible even in the dim light of dusk, but he looked at you with eyes that could only be described as love drunk.

"So..." You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The palm that still laid flat against his chest felt his heart skip a beat. "Where were we?"

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Winter's Child

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and your daughter live across the hall from Bucky. However, one night when your daughter won't settle, you turn to him for help.

Disclaimer: A lot of fluff, angst, hurt/comfort vibes. This is also a long fic. Bucky is not a step-dad but a dad who steps up. Brief mentions of abandonment, heavy on the Found Family, cute fluffy date moments between Reader and Bucky. Yelena and Kate being a duo, slight swearing. Not fully proof read.

You were at your wits end. At least, you thought you were until a handwritten letter slipped under your door at nine am on the dot a week ago. 

A noise complaint. 

You were a single, new mom of one. And instead of helping, three of your neighbours – two of whom had children of their own – decided to file a noise complaint against you. 

First, it was sleepless nights with a newborn. Then it was three weeks of convincing male doctors that your baby was, in fact, sick and it wasn’t you just being dramatic. And now…it was teething. 

You’d barely had a minute to yourself in several months. Family helped you where they could, but one night was all they would do in terms of babysitting. 

You had five piles of laundry that either needed washing, drying, folding or putting away. Your apartment was over-run with household chores that needed doing, you felt like you were on auto-pilot as you moved through your home. 

And every time you’d just get your baby to sleep, someone upstairs decided that it was time for yet another rearrangement of furniture because it didn’t fit the ‘movement’ of his vibe. 

“What?” You were practically crying yourself. “What is it? I’ve tried everything. Please, just tell me what to do. Please.”

Nothing was working. You didn’t want another noise complaint in fear of someone suggesting you should move out. It took years for you to find a safe place that was within walking distance of a good school. 

Obviously, you’d planned the whole ‘having a baby’ thing happening differently than being single and alone the whole time. But it was the quiet moments, the moments where your baby laughed and smiled that made your heart lighten a little. 

But at two am, exhausted and desperate – that was not one of those moments. 

You’d never know why – you could only ever guess - but an idea popped into your head. And you could only pray it would work. 

Bucky had just closed his front door when someone knocked on it. It was hurried and for a moment, he felt for his side-arm. 

But when the knock was followed by a baby’s cry, he lowered his hand. By the time he opened the door, he was greeted with you - his neighbour. 

“I’m so sorry, I really really am-”

You looked like Hell. Bucky had been on a ten day mission in Serbia and had the crap kicked out of him twice – and somehow you looked worse. 

“But she won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want another noise complaint or to be kicked out. I know this is really rude and I am sorry but, please. Is there-”

Bucky stepped forward and scooped the baby from your arms for a moment. He held her up, letting her little legs dangle in the air for a moment whilst he checked her over. 

It was like he’d performed some kind of miracle. 

Your baby had stopped crying. 

Bucky could see you in the corner of his eye. It looked like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, only to come crashing back down. 

“How do you do that?”

Bucky shrugged with a small smile as he cradled your baby in his arms. “I had kid sisters growing up. Ma was always run off her feet.”

“I’m really sorry about this, Bucky.”

He just shook his head. “Don’t be. You said you got a noise complaint?”

You nodded, leaning against the wall beside his door. “A week ago. Someone slipped it under my door. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to sign it, I’ve not exactly been a quiet neighbour these last few months.”

Bucky shook his head. “You’re doing your best. Ignore the noise complaint. If you get any more, give them to me, I’ll get it sorted.”

“No, you don’t-”

“If they’d bothered to help, then someone might be able to say they're just in their complaint. But they haven’t. So nothing is right about it. Want me to put her down?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ll show you.”

As Bucky walked inside your apartment, cradling your sleeping daughter in his arms, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You were her mom. You should be able to do it without having to knock on your neighbour’s door in the middle of the night. 

And you knew it wasn’t the first time he’d helped you, either. 

At six months pregnant when she was kicking you like she was about to be the next World’s Greatest Football player, you had to pause outside your door, leaving your grocery bags on the floor for a moment. 

Bucky had just left his apartment when he saw you. In your small exchange, which most of your conversations were, you helped him press his hand to your stomach. 

It was one big kick. 

“Kid, you’ve gotta be nice to your mom,” Bucky had warned. 

The kicks stopped. 

Bucky had also helped when your baby was five months old. You were carrying her on your hip whilst balancing the baby bag and two bags of groceries. Bucky had just, again, left his apartment when he asked if you needed any help. 

“Can you hold her for a second?”

Bucky took her without question and the soft babbles had turned into quiet solitude as she laid her head on his shoulder. Bucky also took one of the grocery bags from you as you searched for your door key. 

Once you’d thrown everything inside the door, you took your baby back who, within the space of sixty seconds, had grown rather attached to your neighbour. 

Which was also clear in the way her little fists held onto his shirt as he carefully lowered her into her crib. 

“I’m really sorry about this.”

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m happy to help.”

If Bucky was being honest, he was more than happy to help. When he’d first moved in, a lot of the tenants in the building had avoided him. A few even complained about him living there considering he was an ex-assassin. And he couldn’t blame them. He still blamed himself sometimes. 

But you were one of the few that didn’t treat him like that. You treated him like he was just an average human living across the hall from you. So, helping you and your daughter where you asked him to – it gave him another sense of normalcy. 

Something he found to be very rare in his line of work. 

“You know, if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask.” Bucky told you as you walked him to the door. 

You shook your head. “I already feel bad asking you to help me get her to sleep.”

Bucky turned on his heel and looked at you. “You don’t have to feel bad about that. You’re a mom trying to do it all. You’re allowed to ask for help, Y/n.”

That still didn’t stop the guilt, though. 

You’d opted to have the baby on your own. There had been other options, but they just simply were options you didn’t want to take. You’d chosen to do it on your own, which meant continuing to do it on your own. 

“Thank you, Bucky. For everything you’ve done so far.”

You bid him goodnight, feeling the continuing guilt settle in your stomach but gratitude wash over your home. Your baby was fast asleep, and for the first time in months, you got a full night’s sleep. 

When you woke up, you checked on your daughter to find her still fast asleep. So, you took the time you had to finish cleaning your apartment. 

You were folding the third pile of clean laundry when someone knocked on your door. When you answered it, you stalled for a moment. 

“Bucky, what are you-”

“I know you’re not gonna ask unless you’re out of options, so I’m giving you an option to take,” he told you. “When you need help, or need a break, call me.” 

He handed you a post-it note with his phone number on. 

“Bucky, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. And I want you to.” Bucky pressed. “You’re one of the few people outside of my job that treats me like a person. And, just because you’re a mom, doesn’t mean you should constantly be treated like one. You’re a person, too, Y/n. You deserve the help.”

You were completely shocked. Bucky was…an Avenger. He was someone who helped save the world, twice. But he was offering to help you and your baby. 

You lowered the post-it note. “Would you have any idea how to fix a kitchen cupboard?”

Bucky smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over him that you were actually asking. 

He nodded, “Let me get my tools.”

Your brows furrowed. “You have tools?”

He laughed, “I have tools.”

What you thought was just going to be an afternoon turned into two years of frequent help – even when you never asked – and a growing friendship. 

The routine of helping you and your daughter also helped Bucky. It helped ground him after a tough mission. One that, if he went home alone, would be playing over in his mind until the nightmares all mixed into one. 

Even the team noticed the change in Bucky. He seemed lighter, happier and calmer. But the only one who knew the truth behind the change was Sam. Mainly because he’d seen the photo on Bucky’s desk at work. 

A picture of himself, you and a toddler who was holding the camera. 

“You should invite them over for dinner,” Sam told him one afternoon. 

“You think so?”

Sam nodded, taking the beer from Bucky. “Yeah, why not? She’s been your neighbour for years. I know you’ve had a crush on her, for like, ever.”

“I don’t have a crush-”

“You’ve got a crush.” Sam told him. “And, it’s about time we meet your future wife.”

“Sam.”

Sam just laughed. “Oh, come on, man. You know I’m right. I’ve seen the way you look at your phone when she calls you. I’ve also seen the look on your face when you find out it’s her daughter wanting to update you about her day. What a two year old has going on in her life, other than apple sauce packets, is beyond me.”

“She went on her first playdate and helped someone make friends. It was a big day for her.”

“Ha, see! Buck – accept it or deny it, they’re your family. Which makes them ours, too.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll ask, but if she says no-”

“Then we’ll let it slide.”

Bucky pulled his phone from his pocket. “And you’ll make sure Kate doesn’t stalk her online.”

Sam held up his hands. “You have my word.”

Thankfully for everyone involved, you agreed. A week later, you were unbuckling your daughter from her car seat whilst she tried to scramble away and towards the crowd of Avengers who were laughing and chatting over a barbeque. 

That was when a small pair of lungs squealed at the top of their voice, “Bucky!”

Your daughter was running, ignoring your call of being careful before she fell, towards her favourite person. And you had to admit, aside from your daughter, he was yours, too. 

You watched as Bucky stopped his conversation with Sam Wilson and turned to jog towards your daughter. By the time they reached each other, Bucky lifted her into the air as she squealed with more happiness. 

“Hey, firecracker. How was pre-school?”

“Good!”

Resting her on his arm, Bucky talked to her and waited for you to reach him. “Really? You gonna tell me about it?”

You smiled, “Only if you want your ears to fall off.”

Bucky chuckled. “Didn’t need them anyway.” 

You stopped just short of him and he led the way over to the table that was still being set up. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everybody.”

You’d had anxiety for a week over agreeing to the BBQ. What would they think? Would they hate you? Would it be awkward? 

But after twenty minutes, everything felt…normal. You helped a very chatting Kate Bishop and a calmer Laura Bishop set the table for the multitude of Avengers and kids that were attending the BBQ. 

People hugged, laughed, asked as many questions as they could – most of them coming from your daughter who, despite attaching herself to Bucky for most of the day, wanted to know everything she could about everyone she was with. 

And they answered every one of her questions. 

By the time the stars were peeking out behind the few clouds that remained in the sky, your daughter waddled her way over to you from where Kate had let her back onto her feet, and you picked her up. 

As you finished your conversation with Natasha, you started packing away what you could with a sleeping child on your shoulder when Tony appeared. 

“Why don’t you stay? You should stay. We’ve got plenty of room and the roads can be dangerous, really, at night. You should stay.”

You tried to shake your head, but Natasha stood. “Just say yes before he says he found a fault with your car.”

“That’s a generous offer, Mr Stark-”

“Tony, please. And don’t sweat it. Come on, I’ll show you.”

You don’t remember agreeing but somewhere between Tony showing you inside to the compound and a sudden new message alert that a scan of your car had resulted in a few, rather dangerous faults being found, you were putting your daughter to be at the Avengers Compound. 

And then you were being led back into the living area where everyone was sitting around the coffee table talking. And the only available spot left was right beside Bucky. 

He sat you beside him with ease. Too much ease to be normal between friends. Not that you were complaining. There was safety with Bucky, in a way you couldn’t describe. 

Of course, when you felt his fingers trace up and down your arm lightly, you felt your cheeks heat. But you still felt safe. Not so nervous where you felt like running in the opposite direction, but nervous enough to enjoy being with him. 

And after an hour or so, Yelena walked back inside with a little hand holding onto her finger. 

“Someone wanted to join the party,” Yelena said as she led your daughter over to you where she climbed into yours, and technically, Bucky’s lap. 

Bucky smoothed down the back of her hair as she rubbed her eyes. 

“Don’t you want to go to sleep, honey?”

She shook her head, and pouted. “No. Not without you and Bucky.”

Bucky smiled softly, “C’mere, kiddo.”

Leaning over, your daughter settled herself between you and Bucky before leaning her head against his side. 

“Okay, that is way too cute,” Kate said as she pulled out her phone and snapped a few pictures. 

As conversations started up again, your daughter fell into a deep sleep against Bucky. Something you almost did yourself until you managed to gain enough energy to lift yourself from the sofa and carry your child back to bed. 

Bucky followed you, his palm warm on your lower back as he led you down the dimly lit hallways.

However, by the time you woke up in the morning and went to check on your daughter, you found her bed empty. But just as the anxiety that you tried to keep calm spiked in your chest, a voice spoke inside the room. 

“Your daughter is currently interrogating Mr Wilson on his preference of breakfast cereal.”

You relaxed a little. “Of course, she is.”

You were slow to round the corner into the kitchen, wanting to watch your daughter for a few moments. Bucky was right in her nickname; firecracker. She was like some kind of professional quizzer. 

It amazed you some days, at how head-strong she was for such a young age. But you wouldn’t change her for the world. 

Slowly, you lean against the kitchen counter beside your daughter, listening to her explain to Sam about how cheerios were better than eggs, Sam softly arguing back. 

Little did you know, her arguing with Sam would become a frequent image in your own home. 

It seemed, for as much as your daughter had fallen in love with the Avengers, they had fallen in love with her and each one of her questions. You started to see Sam at Bucky’s apartment more often, Yelena and Kate would show up at the park when you’d take your daughter out for the day, your daughter’s preschool also started to get a little more funding here and there throughout her school year. 

And on the days where Bucky would offer to pick her up from school when your work ran over, they would turn into sleepover nights at the Compound since you couldn’t pry your daughter from their arms no matter how hard you tried. 

Eventually, you started to feel like family to them. They loved your daughter like one of their own, and she loved them right back. If anyone at school said that Captain America was less cool than Iron Man, or that Kate wasn’t the better Hawkeye or that anyone on the team wasn’t as cool as your daughter thought they were; she would defend them to her last breath. 

But the one she defended most passionately was Bucky. How he wasn’t scary but actually really kind and funny, even if he was grumpy sometimes. And how his metal arm was like having a normal one – he could still feel everything the same. Almost. 

She even drew him in all of her pictures when it came to her art class. Which, one day, turned into a list of questions which she just so happened to ask out loud one morning when Bucky had just made her breakfast. 

“Are you like my dad?”

Everyone in the kitchen stopped what they were doing to look at your daughter. But her gaze was focused on her breakfast and the picture she’d made at school the day before. 

“Why do you ask, honey?” You asked her softly, leaning down beside her. 

“Because Jeremy said I couldn’t have a ‘Bucky’. I had a mommy, so I needed a daddy, too.”

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest. “Honey…” 

You didn’t quite know what to say. Her biological dad hadn’t been in the picture since he’d seen the positive pregnancy test on your bathroom counter. 

“Jeremy was wrong.”

“He was?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Look around you, baby girl. I know you don’t exactly have a daddy, but you do have people that love you.”

That was when your daughter looked around to the other people in the kitchen for reassurance. They all agreed that Jeremy was wrong. 

“Truth is, honey, maybe not everyone has a daddy, but not everyone has a ‘Bucky’ either.”

Steve smiled, “And that makes you extra special, kid.”

Your daughter smiled  before turning around in her stool and hopping down before walking over to Bucky who picked her up instantly. 

She hugged him around his neck. “I love you.”

Bucky was on the edge of tears. “Love you, too, firecracker.”

Later that night, Bucky put her to bed whilst you finished up in the kitchen. You’d offered to make dinner but since half of them got called out on a mission and Bucky was already being used as a human pillow for your four year old, Kate took his place on the mission. 

So, you’d packed the dinner into different take-away containers and stocked them into the fridge and freezer, along with a couple of post-it notes on how long to reheat. 

You were wiping down the counters when Bucky walked back inside. 

“She okay?”

“Out like a light,” Bucky smiled. “Mind if I ask you something?”

You nodded. “Always.”

“Earlier…when she asked me…what happened to her dad?”

You stopped cleaning for a moment before you took a breath. 

Bucky had lived across the hall from you for a while, even before you were pregnant. But he’d never seen someone in your life long enough to consider they would be your partner. 

“We’d been dating for a couple months, but since he lived closer to my workplace, I stayed at his house more often than he did mine. His house was also closer to his work, so it meant we could spend longer together in bed. Pretty sure it was one of those mornings when I got caught…” You took your time, and Bucky let you. 

If you had told him you didn’t want to talk about it, he would have backed off and waited. You didn’t have to tell him anything, but he was glad you were. 

“But, as we hit the three month mark, I started getting a weird feeling. More than I ever have before. Woman’s intuition told me he wasn’t exactly staying loyal. But it felt like more than that, so…I took a test. The minute he saw the two lines he told me he was seeing someone else and that he didn’t want to know about me or the baby, ever. I’ve never heard from him since.”

Bucky couldn’t feel his blood boil. First, a guy who was with you…he let you go. He strayed, cheated and let you go. And then, he abandoned you when you would have needed him the most, and finally…he didn’t even want to meet you or your little firecracker. 

“Well, that’s technically a lie. I heard from some cheap-shot lawyer of his after I sent him some pictures of his daughter’s birth. Just one of her in a hospital onesie and a little hat that one of the nurses had knitted for her. She was so little,” you smiled as you thought back to those first moments where you held her and heard her cry. 

“What did the lawyer say?”

“That he was giving up all parental rights. He wanted to make sure, as far as the law knew, he didn’t have a daughter.”

“He’s…something I would say if there wasn’t a four year old sleeping down the hallway.”

You chuckled. It was nice to know someone was just as angry, if not more so, at the thought of someone not wanting to know your daughter. 

“I guess I was kind of lucky in a way, though.”

Bucky looked up at you from the counter. 

“If he did want to know her, she might not have had you. I might not have…I probably would have moved closer, for the baby’s sake.”

Bucky let the breath go from his lungs. “God, I can’t imagine not having you both in my life.”

You smiled, “Luckily, you don’t have to. We’re both lucky to have you, Bucky. And I’m glad we do.”

Bucky smiled back at you, his heart rate increasing just that little bit more. He managed to look away before you caught the flush in his cheeks. 

A few months later, you were at home finishing up your third load of washing for the week when someone knocked at your door. 

“Kate? Yelena?”

Kate’s expression held nothing but relief as she turned around and faced the door when you answered. “Oh, thank god.”

“What’s going on?” You asked them as they walked into your home. Yelena was carrying several different garment bags whilst Kate carried two more and dragged a small make-up trolly behind her. 

“We need your help.”

“What on earth for?”

You closed the door, balancing the laundry basket on your hip as they turned around to face you. 

“We need you to attend Pepper’s gala tonight.”

“What- Why?”

Kate looked at Yelena who nodded. 

“Because you do.”

“Girls, I’m gonna need a better explanation than that.”

Yelena rolled her eyes as she dropped the bags onto the sofa. “God, you’re such a mom.”

“Yelena.”

Yelena just fixed her hair. “We need you to be someone’s date.”

“Can I ask who this someone is?”

“It’s-”

“No.” Yelena cut Kate off. “You can’t know because it’s a surprise. So, enough questions. Give me that.” 

Yelena took the laundry basket from you and pushed you along down the hallway. Meanwhile, she pulled out the worn hair tie from your hair. 

“Yeah, you need to get washed first. Use your fancy stuff.”

“Yelena-”

“Go, now. Please.”

You gave a small huff as you got into the bathroom. “Fine. But only because you said please.”

Yelena smiled before she shut the door. “Thank you.”

By the time you’d finished your everything shower, along with the fancier shampoo you tended to save for dates and nights out – a shampoo that’s only use was before parent-teacher meetings, or any place you had to look like you hadn’t been up half the night reading parenting books. 

You were rushed into your guest bedroom where Yelena sat you down at the vanity desk. Meanwhile, Kate was lying with your daughter on the bed, looking through different eyeshadow colours, naming them all. 

“Katie knows a lot of colours, momma.”

Kate smiled. “I really do. Hey, you know what this one is called?”

Your daughter shook her head. 

“Aquamarine.”

“Aq…aquaamarr-”

“Aquamarine,” Kate repeated a little slower and your daughter copied. 

An hour and many more unanswered questions later, Yelena had finished your hair whilst Kate was helping you apply your make-up. 

You had been planning a quiet night in. More than likely, it would have ended with you watching the last half an hour of a Disney movie alone whilst your daughter snored herself to sleep on the sofa. 

“Okay, dress time.”

Kate stood and opened up each garment bag. “Which one?” She asked your daughter. 

“Don’t I get to pick?”

“You don’t know the plan, momma.” Your almost five year old, told you. 

“There’s a plan?”

Kate shrugged. “There’s always a plan.”

It took a total of seven minutes and a game of ‘left or right’ to decide on your dress. A floor length gown with a high slit up one leg. There was a soft shimmer to the fabric like you’d been spritzed with body glitter beforehand.  

All three girls gasped as you stepped out from behind your dressing divider. 

“Wow, momma,” your daughter seemed mesmerised. “You look beautiful like the stars.”

You smiled, “Thank you, babygirl.” Then you turned to the two elders. “Will you answer my questions now?”

They smiled, like they knew something you didn’t. But before you could get your answers, someone knocked on the door. 

“I’ll get it!” Your daughter sprung from the bed, quickly followed by Yelena. 

“You really do look beautiful, Y/n.”

You smiled. “Kate, what’s going on?”

She just smiled back. “You’ll see.”

As you tightened your shoes a little, you heard your daughter call out for you. 

“You can come out now, momma!”

And as you did, it was like your breath had been taken from you. 

By your door, Bucky was standing wearing a tux. You’d always known he was handsome, but there was just something about a man in a tux…

You felt yourself smile as you walked closer. “I thought you were away-”

“I know, I was. But…I managed to finish early. You look…” Bucky was lost for words. Or maybe he had too many. 

Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, breathtaking…

“She looks beautiful like stars,” your daughter jumped in. And he had to agree. 

“You’re right, firecracker. You look beautiful like stars.”

You blushed and smiled. “Thank you.”

Then Yelena jumped in. “Right, off you go.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry,” she pushed you both towards the door as Kate opened it. “We’ll make sure the little firecracker gets to bed before you’re home. She’ll be safe. She’s with two avengers.”

You knew that was true. But, you also knew there was a chance they wouldn’t be safe. Yelena was a trained spy, but Kate? Kate would crack under the pressure of your little girl's thousand and ten questions questionnaire. 

Before you knew it, you were being waltzed inside of the venue that had been rented out by Pepper’s company for the charity gala. All the while, holding onto Bucky’s hand and arm. 

“This is a lot of people,” you whispered to him. 

“We only have to show our faces for an hour. Two max. Then we can ditch.”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a ditcher,” you told him, a little surprise in your voice. 

He chuckled. “No. Ma would have killed me for skipping school, not that I ever did. I actually enjoyed it. It was fun when Steve wasn’t getting his ass kicked. But, for things like this? It’s not my favourite thing in the world.”

You shrugged. You couldn’t blame him. It was lovely; getting ready, witnessing Bucky in a tux for the first time, feeling a little less guilty about leaving your daughter for the night. But there were a lot of people. People who you didn’t know. And you doubted Bucky knew, either. 

“But it’s better having you here with me.”

You whipped your gaze away from the crystal chandeliers, to your date. You covered the butterflies in your stomach with a soft smile. 

Before you could say anything, someone called your name. And then Bucky’s. 

It was Pepper. 

She introduced you both to different people before she was called away by someone else. 

Although it was a lot, it was easier having Bucky by your side. It was rare his hand ever left yours. At one point, his fingers had intertwined with yours and there was no way you were going to cut that off. 

By the second turn of the venue, looking at the items that were going to be auctioned off for charity, you and Bucky tried to sneak away from the crowd for a while. Only, you were caught in a conversation with a couple who – despite their fortune and education – didn’t know when to end a conversation. 

Half way through their very boring conversation, a thought passed through your head. Bucky could have fucked you right there and then, and they still would have carried on the conversation. 

But you pushed that thought away as quickly as it came. Although, it did try to resurface every ten minutes, when Bucky’s other hand would warm your lower back, your other hip or, briefly, the top of the slit in your dress. 

“We really should be going.”

You and Bucky managed to escape. But only for ten minutes. Because the couple were coming back. 

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. But Bucky beat you to it. “Fuck-”

You were pulled down a small corridor that led to the back of another room filled with  items up for auction, before being pulled into the smaller, darkened alcove in the wall. 

The couple passed you both right by, without being noticed. 

In the confined space, you and Bucky stayed as quiet as you could. Your hands were on his chest, letting you know that you weren’t alone with the rapid heartbeat in your ears. Though, his was a little calmer than your own. 

His own hands remained fixed on your hips, holding you steady on your feet. For a split second, he shifted and his knee brushed your inner thigh. 

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. 

Then you felt his hands lightly trace up your body. Your breath hitched. 

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asked you, his voice in a soft whisper by the shell of your ear. 

You nodded and answered quietly. “It’s fine.”

With Bucky’s gaze on you, you started to realise just how small the alcove was. The scent of his cologne was intricately lodging itself into your mind – any time you’d smell that scent, you’d been pulled right back into the alcove. 

Then, with a breathy chuckle, he smiled. “Want to get out of here?”

No. 

“Think the coast is clear?”

Please don’t be.

Bucky peered around the corner before he turned back and nodded. 

“Let’s go.”

Let’s stay. 

With Bucky’s hand in yours, he swiftly got you both out of the venue unnoticed. It wasn’t until you were half way down the block, and Bucky was laying his jacket over your shoulders, that you realised you’d forgotten your coat. 

“But, you’ll get cold.”

Bucky just smiled. “I’ve got the serum. I can’t get cold, doll.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he assured you. 

And for a while, you both just talked. About the night, about the couple that couldn’t seem to take a hint and the fact Bucky had come back early. 

And then he asked you to dance.

“There’s no music.”

“We don’t need music. Come on.”

The street was completely empty. A couple of street lamps lit the way, and every once in a while, a taxi would drive down the main road ahead. But other than that, it was just you and Bucky. 

“Is this what you used to do?” You asked him after a few moments. “Take a girl out, ask her to dance under the streetlights with you. Bet you were a real heartbreaker.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Maybe. Just a little. But if this was a date, I would have done this-” Bucky softly dipped you in his arms. “By now.”

He was slow to bring you back to your feet, your forehead against his, your lungs in need of some air despite already being outside. 

His palm burned a little on your back. You just wished it would make a permanent mark. 

“Does that make this a date now?”

“I don’t know. I’d like it to be,” he admitted to you, honestly. “If I asked you on one, officially, would you say yes?”

“I wouldn’t want to lose you, Bucky.”

“I promise you won’t. If it goes badly, we can laugh about it later. Just, say yes?”

It took you a short moment, but you nodded. “Okay. Yes.”

Bucky walked you back home. And by the time you opened up your door, you walked in to find Kate, Yelena and your daughter all fast asleep on the sofa, the bright colours of the Disney Princess film flashing across their faces. 

“Do you want to get her out of the tangle?” You asked Bucky. “I would but I’m afraid to get a fist to my face.”

Bucky chuckled, softly closing the door as he nodded. Even he knew how it was when trying to wake Kate up. She was a fighter until she opened her eyes and realised who was trying to get her up. 

Bucky got your daughter out with ease and carried her to bed, leaving you to deal with the two sleeping Avengers. 

Meanwhile, down the hall as he laid her in her bed, she woke up briefly. 

“Did you ask her?”

Bucky brushed the baby hairs that had fallen from the braids in her hair. He smiled, “Yeah, I did.”

“Did she say yes?”

He nodded. “She said yes.”

She gave a tired cheer before he kissed her head and tucked her in. “Get some sleep, kiddo.”

The moment she rolled over, she was snoring. And just as Bucky passed the guest bedroom, he could hear two more sets of snoring coming from inside. 

You crept out of the room and softly clicked the door shut. From there, you and Bucky took your time walking back to the front door. 

“About this date-”

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he told you. “If you don’t feel comfortable-”

You smiled. “I was just gonna ask if you’re free on Sunday.”

Bucky was a little surprised but smiled. “I’m free on Sunday. I’ll pick you up at ten?”

It was definitely the earliest date you’d been on. 

“There’s a place I want to show you.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

After picking you up on his motorcycle, Bucky drove an hour out of the city to a small town. The entire main street was taken over by a farmer’s market. There were smaller stalls with different homemade items. 

You and Bucky ended up picking up a few things for a make-shift picnic in the park before he took you to the local watering hole where a live band was playing and people’s shoes were scuffing the wooden floor from dancing. 

“How did you find this place?”

“Barton told me about it.” Bucky told you. “Him and Laura passed through it once before, so I decided to come and check it out. I’ve wanted to show you ever since, but each time I came to tell you, something came up at work so I wouldn’t have been here to show you.”

“But now you are.”

“Now I am,” he told you before he took your hand. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re dancing.”

It was a small two-step, nothing major. But for you, it felt like everything. Being in his arms again – you knew there would never be another place where you would feel this safe. Feeling his hand in yours, seeing the blush creep up on his cheeks each time you looked at him. 

Slowly, the rest of the room disappeared. The music from the band became nothing more than background noise and the only person you could see was Bucky. 

And when you closed your eyes, and felt his lips against yours, the only thing you could feel was him. 

The light breeze that wafted past the barn doors disappeared, the air of apple pie and ice cold lemonade disappeared from your skin.

The only thing that soaked its way into your bones was the feeling of him. His hand in yours, his other at your opposite hip, holding you flush against him, his belt buckle making a small impression behind the fabric of your outfit. 

It was more than you ever dreamt of. 

The Talk came two weeks later. The one that neither you and Bucky had mentioned, but had to be done. Because it wasn’t just both of you in the relationship, if you were going to continue. 

Your daughter was involved, too. 

“She loves you, Bucky.”

“And I’ll never want to see her hurt, either,” he finished. “I never want to hurt either of you, ever.”

“I know.”

“So, we take it slow,” he offered. “But I think we should involve her, too. You come as a package deal, and I don’t want to ignore that.”

You gave him a small smile. There had been plenty of one-stop dates who had ignored that fact, plenty who had wanted you to come as a single package. 

Bucky was the first. 

So, a few weeks later, when a knock came to your door, your daughter beat you to the door and opened it to find Bucky. 

“Bucky!” 

Your daughter ran for his legs and wrapped her arms around them before she let go and he bent down. 

“Why are you here?”

Bucky looked from your daughter, up to you with a half cocked smile. “I’m here to give you these.”

Behind his back, Bucky pulled out two bouquets of flowers. One was a little bigger than the second. 

He presented the smaller bunch to your daughter before he stood to his full height and handed you the bigger section. 

“And these are for you.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky crouched back down to your daughter. “And I was hoping that you and your mom would want to come with me for the day.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Okay!” Your daughter turned around and ran back inside. 

“Careful, honey. Put your flowers in the kitchen, I’ll put them in some water!”

“Okay!” She yelled back before going to her bedroom to get her shoes. 

With the coast clear, Bucky leaned in and pressed three light kisses to your lips. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Bucky closed the door as he entered and you walked into your kitchen to run the tap for some water. 

“So, where are we going?”

He smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

“From me, too?”

He nodded. 

Two minutes later, your daughter came running back down the hall. Bucky managed to scoop her up before she tripped down the small step. 

“Got my shoes!”

“Firecracker?”

“Yes?”

“Your shoes are on the wrong feet, honey,” he told her. She looked down, very confused. 

Bucky popped her on the kitchen island before offering to fix them. Swinging her feet, she nodded. 

As you placed the flowers inside of a vase, finding a smaller one for your daughter’s; you watched as Bucky taught her a trick to always remember her left and right before he reached into one of the cupboard draws and pulled out a small sheet of stickers. 

“When the star touches, then you know they’re on the right feet.”

“So cool.”

A little under an hour later, your daughter was on Bucky’s shoulders, looking with amazement at all the artifacts in the museum. You could see her little brain working overtime to find out all the answers to every question she had, knowing she was going to be telling Kate and Yelena all about it in a few days time. 

After lunch and the second half of the tour, you heard your daughter gasp before she took your hand and dragged you down the hall. 

Secretly having been holding Bucky’s hand, you pulled him with you. 

“Slow down, honey. Where are we going?”

“Come on, you gotta see! Come on!”

By the time you both found yourself in the exhibit room, you looked around and realised why she had seemed so excited. 

The entire thing was dedicated to Captain America. 

“Look, momma. It’s Steve!”

You picked your daughter up and carried her over. “That’s right, honey.”

“Look, Bucky. It’s you.”

Bucky smiled. “That’s me.”

“Why is it not got colours?”

Bucky chuckled. “Because it’s from the 1940s.”

Your daughter watched, puzzled, as a small clip of Bucky and Steve laughing played on the big screen. 

“That’s over 90 years ago.”

“Wow, that’s old.”

You and Bucky chuckled lightly, just before your daughter wiggled her way out of your arms. The moment her feet were planted on the floor, she ran over to the small window where people were standing on the scale. 

The picture didn’t even move. 

“Come here, firecracker.” Bucky scooped your daughter up in his arms and planted himself on the scale. The picture changed and you watched as your daughter looked at herself in uniform. 

However, for a glimpse, you caught Bucky’s face in the reflection. 

You’d seen plenty of pictures, news segments, documentaries and home videos of Bucky both in and out of uniform, back in the 40s. But there was just something in that moment that it hit you- 

Bucky had lived that life. He’d seen that world. If you had met him on the streets of Brooklyn over ninety years ago, you would have been watching him getting shipped out to England. 

“Okay, where to next?”

“Hmm, over there! Come on, momma!”

The little voice, filled to the brim with excitement, broke you out of your trance long enough for you to follow after them. 

However, hours later; long after Bucky had carried your daughter from her car seat and up the steps and into your apartment. You surprised him. 

He was in your kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil as you got dressed into your home clothes. But, when you returned and he felt his heart light up at seeing you as you, he was shocked. 

You hugged him. 

He held back the laugh in his chest. “What’s this for?”

“Just because,” you told him. 

Then you kissed him. 

“And that?”

“That was because I love you.”

Bucky faulted for a moment. He didn’t want to come off too excited in case he’d heard wrong. 

“You love me?”

You nodded. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time, but seeing you today…it just hit me. And I wanted to tell you.”

Then he smiled, keeping his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer. “I’m glad, because I’m in love with you, too.”

A smile broke onto your face before it was kissed away by him, his hands pulling you flush against his body. 

It had taken years for you to realise, and even longer to work up the courage to tell him. 

Who knew all it took was a family trip to the museum? 

Thankfully, those family trips started to become more frequent. As did the solo and family dates you, Bucky and your daughter went on. 

But, for Bucky, nothing beat the date night you and he had after the parent-teacher meeting you both attended just a little under a year of dating. 

It was in that meeting that the teacher gushed over how far your daughter had come in the last year, how incredible her artwork was and how they were looking at moving her up a couple of reading grades. 

Although Bucky wasn’t there to create your daughter, or there to cut the cord. She was like him in so many ways, it was scary. 

The pouting face when she was tired, the overly cute aggressive face she gave when she was getting competitive. And then there was her love for school. Steve had shown you some of Bucky’s old school reports. 

Your daughter was starting to get the same. 

Maybe Bucky wasn’t your daughter’s father by birth, but he was her dad in every way that counted. He dried the tears, cleaned the grazed knees, carried her sleeping frame to bed. 

And after that parent-teacher meeting, it was going to become official. 

He had proposed and you said yes. 

And when your daughter had found out the next morning when you and Bucky went to pick her up from the compound, where Sam and Yelena had been put on babysitting duty, she cried. 

“Can I call you my daddy now?”

Through your own happy tears, you watched Bucky’s own fall. He was hugging your daughter just as tight as she was holding onto him. 

“I’d love nothing more, firecracker.”

[darealsaltysam]

some of my favorite lines of dialogue i've overheard in marvel rivals so far

(keep in mind these are all paraphrased im going off of memory cuz i never have the reflex to screenshot these as they happen oops)

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

"I never had kids, but I did have the Avengers. Same thing." - Iron Man spawning in

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

"One for me, one for Steven, one for Jake." - Moon Knight after getting a triple kill

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

"Can you teach me some of your magic-?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I think you've had enough chaos already." - Loki & Scarlet Witch interaction

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"You have made your father proud, Wanda, my dear." - Magneto when assisting a Scarlet Witch with a kill

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"No one breaks a bargain with me twice."

"So I can do it once?" - Hela & Loki interaction

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"When I said "No More Mutants" you were who I meant, Logan." - Scarlet Witch after killing a Wolverine

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

"How did you learn magic?"

"A place called Kamar-Taj."

"Oh so you weren't bitten by, like, a radioactive sorcerer?"

"[Extremely exasperated] Peter, please..." - Doctor Strange & Spiderman interaction

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"Leave real magic to the grown-ups, Ilyana." - Scarlet Witch killing a Magik

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"Nerd win!" - Bruce Banner if he gets a kill in his non-Hulk form

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"Are you fast enough to stop a bullet, if I shot you?"

"Well, you won't be able to. I already dismantled the inner-mechanisms of all of your guns."

"Wh- What?!"

"Now if you behave yourself I might fix them." - Punisher & Magneto interaction

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

"So you can talk to rodents?"

"Tippy-Toe seems to think so!"

"Can you try and convince Rocket to clean his bunk?"

"There are some things even I can't do, I'm afraid." - Star-Lord and Squirrel Girl interaction

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

"We sense great darkness and chaos within you, woman."

"You're one to talk, Venom."

"No, we... Find it strangely... Attractive."

"...Somehow, that made me want to save this universe less." - Venom & Scarlet Witch interaction

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

"It's good to be fighting side by side again, like in the old days."

"Back when you used children as soldiers for your cause?"

"When you put it like that, you make me sound like a terrible father."

"For once, we agree on something." - Magneto & Scarlet Witch interaction

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"[in the sassiest tone you can imagine] Your GOD is SUFFERING!!!" - Loki taking damage

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[i also dont remember the exact dialogue but there IS one with rocket asking to buy bucky's arm. so yes we won there]

[artficlly]

the art of pretending [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x agent!reader

being mentored by bucky is nothing short of torture; he’s cold, infuriating, and impossible to please. but when a mission gone wrong leaves you stranded in a freezing safehouse together, you start to wonder if all that supposed hatred has just been hiding something else entirely.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex, fingering, forced proximity, one bed, kissing, enemies to lovers-ish?, sexual tension, sparring, mentor bucky, bickering, insults, violence, bit of blood/gore/wound descriptions, bucky has issues, protective bucky, slut shaming (not from bucky), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 12.4k

A/N: hi! this is for some requests i received (one and two). i combined two of the requests because they were pretty similar, hope thats okay and i hope you enjoy! this took me... so long to write. i hope it doesn't flop <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You had two goals for the night: get shitfaced and get railed. So, catching your asshole boyfriend wrist-deep in some girl’s panties, doing the kind of finger work he never even bothered to learn for you, wasn’t part of your itinerary.

You could’ve cried, you could’ve begged, or collapsed into a sad cliché with a tub of ice cream and Sex and the City reruns. But no, you had a mission, and one mission alone. Get so unbelievably drunk on whatever you could get your hands on, so drunk in fact that you wanted to black out before midnight and preferably unconscious until sunset the next day.

Tony’s penthouse parties weren’t usually your scene. Too many sleazy rich men with superiority complexes, trophy wives sipping champagne through botoxed grins, and a carousel of extras that Stark always vehemently denied were hookers. What you did know was that, being an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D., your name was always on the list, and tonight, free top-shelf booze felt like divine intervention.

You just had to get in, get drunk, and avoid eye contact with your co-workers long enough to pull off a quiet mental breakdown and ignore the fact that you were rather underdressed for the type of party Stark was hosting. Scantily clad club clothing clashed hard with the pearls and Prada crowd.

A few raised brows and vague greetings followed you as you slithered through the gathering. 

But you held back a groan when you spotted the trio parked at the bar: Yelena, Steve, and Bucky. Great. The Greek god chorus of shame, in all their sculpted, judgmental glory. They looked just as uncomfortable as you felt, loitering by the bar instead of mingling with Stark’s circus.

You ignored their stares and made a beeline for the shelves behind the bartender—some poor kid who looked far too green for this gig. He gave you a look of dismay as you grabbed a bottle of tequila without asking. Slamming down a shot glass, you poured with shaky hands and knocked it back with the elegance of a car crash.

You barely registered the silence that followed until you glanced up and saw the stunned expressions staring back at you.

Yelena was the first to speak. “What happened to you? You never come to these things.”

You poured another shot. “Free drinks,” you muttered, then downed it, already lining up the next. No salt. No lime. Just pain, raw and unfiltered, sliding down your throat.

“I thought you were going out with your boyfriend?” She continued to press, while Steve looked rather scandalised as he watched you swallow back your third shot in a row with a shudder. 

Yelena reached over and snatched the bottle from your hand before you could pour again. “You should slow down.”

​​You blinked at her, teeth gritted, blood thrumming loud in your ears. She meant well. Of course she did. You’d always gotten along—ever since she’d been assigned as your mentor in your early days at S.H.I.E.L.D. You two had clicked effortlessly. It was all a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s long-term strategy to make field missions run smoother and reduce casualties. Avengers were paired with up-and-coming agents to pass down their experience and training, with the hope that one day, those hard-earned skills would save lives.

But everything changed when they reassigned you.

You’d been told it was to ‘broaden your skillset’, that it was about growth, adaptability, and learning from different leadership styles. What they didn’t say was that it would mean training under James Buchanan Barnes, aka Mr. No-Praise-All-Pain.

You’d tried. Really. At first, you gave it your all. Took his criticism, bit your tongue, pushed harder. But Bucky didn’t bend. He didn’t compliment. Didn’t guide. He just judged, cold and final, like every failure confirmed whatever low expectations he had of you.

Five months of that, and you were drowning. You begged for reassignment—back to Yelena, to Natasha, to anyone—but were denied every time. Some higher-up probably thought your mutual disdain was ‘motivating’, like locking two angry wolves in a cage and expecting them not to rip each other’s throats out.

And now here he was. Bucky Barnes. His suit jacket was slung carelessly over the back of his bar stool, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. His dress shirt clung to his muscular frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those unfairly defined forearms and the gleam of vibranium wrapped around a bottle of beer. His expression was stony, but familiar—stern brow, mouth set in a tight line, like he was already displeased with you and you hadn’t even said a word yet.

That look. That look you couldn’t stand.

Disappointment, or maybe pity. You couldn’t tell. Either way, it made your skin itch.

You wanted to punch him in his sullen, pouty face.

Instead, you laughed bitterly and reached for the bottle again, only for Yelena to hold it further away, firm.

“I said slow down,” she warned.

You made a face at Yelena. “Uh, you can’t talk. I saw you do shots out of a candle holder once.”

She didn’t even blink.

“Yes. And you called me messy. So I stopped.” She turned away just long enough to vanish the tequila bottle from sight like some sleight-of-hand magician. “This is me returning the favour. Stop it. You’re being messy.”

You barked out a harsh laugh and rubbed a hand down your face, smearing frustration across your cheeks. “You know what’s messy? My boyfriend. Well—ex-boyfriend.”

Across the bar, Bucky shook his head and muttered something low under his breath. You didn’t catch it, but you were sure it was vile because even Steve glanced over at him in disbelief, his eyebrows climbing high. Great. Judgment from Captain Morality and the Tin Soldier. Just what you needed.

Yelena sighed, already exhausted. “What did he do this time?”

You could tell she was reaching the end of her patience, and honestly, it was fair. She’d been your reluctant witness through the entire tragic saga of your love life. Two and a half years of emotional landmines and loser boyfriends who all somehow managed to be worse than the last. It was impressive, in a bleak kind of way.

You gestured vaguely, your expression somewhere between rage and disbelief. “I was supposed to meet him at some sleazy club downtown, his buddy was DJing—-fucking terrible DJ by the way. I’d barely walked in the door when I caught him in a back booth, fingering some girl who wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it!”

Yelena’s lips pursed. Steve stared like he’d never heard someone use the word ‘fingering’ out loud before.

“What did you do?” Yelena asked, her voice low, careful.

“Oh, the usual,” you said sweetly. “I punched him. Hard. He hit the floor like a sack of shit. Then I stepped on his hand until I felt something snap.”

Steve choked on his beer, coughing violently into his elbow. Bucky just watched you with the world's best poker face, a slight clench in his jaw muscles. 

You smiled at Steve, feral and unbothered. “Don’t worry, Cap. He won’t be playing DJ with anyone’s body parts anytime soon.”

Yelena gave a low whistle, somewhere between impressed and alarmed. “You actually broke his hand?”

“Felt like justice.” You shrugged. “Plus, he was always texting with that hand. Two birds, one stomp.”

“That’s assault,” Steve managed, his voice slightly strangled.

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “We’ve all done worse.”

Across the bar, Bucky finally spoke, his voice gravel-edged and unimpressed. “And now you’re here, drinking like a lunatic in front of half the team. Real graceful recovery.”

Your shoulders tensed, that familiar heat creeping up your spine.

“I’m not showing up for training tomorrow,” you said flatly. “Hell, I don’t plan on being conscious tomorrow.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “It’s going on your report.”

Your mid-year report. Just another excuse for Bucky to publicly drag you, whining to the higher-ups about what a terrible mentee you were. How you needed to ‘apply yourself’, ‘show initiative’, or whatever corporate nonsense they lapped up. And of course, those same higher-ups were always looking for a reason to cut dead weight. One misstep, and you were done.

“Of course it is,” you snapped, spinning on your heel. “You miserable, ancient cunt.”

Steve choked on his beer again.

Without another word, you reached behind the overwhelmed bartender, who looked about five seconds from quitting, and grabbed the nearest bottle. You didn’t even look at the label. You stormed off with tequila already burning in your veins and spite lighting the way. 

—

You were leaning casually against the wall outside the gym’s changing rooms, dressed in workout gear that was probably a little more flattering than necessary. Tight enough to flatter your waist, breathable enough to pass as practical. Around you, the low hum of chatter buzzed from a small group of fellow agents. You were killing time before your dreaded one-on-one training session with Barnes.

Theo leaned a shoulder beside yours, towelling sweat from the back of his neck. He’d been an agent about as long as you had—charming, competent, and a little too easy to get along with. The two of you were part of that unofficial after-hours crew: drinks on Fridays, complaints about the job, stumbling home tipsy and hungover texts on Saturday mornings.

“You’re on sparring duty all week too?” Theo asked, glancing at you with mock pity. “I swear Rogers gets off on making me eat mat.”

“I know what you mean. Barnes definitely loves making me suffer,” you replied with a grimace. “That man has a personal vendetta against me.”

Theo grinned, tossing the towel over his shoulder, and he gave you a playful sidelong look. “When I get knocked on my ass, promise you’ll kiss it better?”

You arched a brow, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Careful. I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.”

“Starting to?” he shot back, unfazed. “Let me make it clearer. If I don’t get my ass handed to me by Rogers, I’ll buy you a drink Friday.”

You leaned back against the wall, arms folding over your chest. “And if Rogers wins?”

Theo leaned in, voice low and smooth as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lingering just a moment too long. “Then I’ll buy you two,” he murmured.

You opened your mouth to respond. Flattered, a little surprised, already mentally debating whether it was worth shaving your legs, when a voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

“Agent. You’re late.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. That gravel-edged tone, sharpened with disapproval, could only belong to one man.

Bucky stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, jaw set like granite. His black compression shirt clung to every sculpted line of his chest, joggers slung low on his hips in a way that really shouldn't have been legal. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a combat simulation and into a fitness magazine.

But the expression on his face? Full-on battlefield.

That signature scowl was locked in place, thunderclouds brewing behind his eyes as he stared straight past you, straight at Theo. Typical. You hadn’t even done anything, yet somehow, he already looked pissed.

“Training doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” You reminded him.

He didn’t seem interested in whatever argument you were about to make, and he turned on his heel without another word.

You sighed, uncrossing your arms as you pushed off the wall and flashed Theo an apologetic smile. 

Jogging to catch up, your boots thudding against the hallway floor, you called after Bucky. “You know, there’s this really neat thing called a schedule. Maybe try sticking to it?”

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. “You could use the extra time.”

You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. Classic Barnes, gruelling, joyless, always ready with a critique and never a compliment. He’d made it his mission to grind you down, one scathing remark at a time. And yet, you knew you were one of the top agents. The higher-ups had told you as much in your mid-year review, even going so far as to say that your mentorship with Barnes was working brilliantly. You hadn’t bothered correcting them, though it irritated more than you liked to admit. All your hard work, and somehow, he got the credit.

Bucky didn’t stop until you were both inside one of the gym’s private sparring rooms. The door clicked shut behind you. No audience. No distractions. Just him and you and the electric tension that always seemed to spark the moment you were alone together.

“Seriously, Barnes, what’s your problem today?”

Bucky stepped onto the mat, gesturing for you to follow.

“You’re here to train, not flirt in the hallway.”

You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Bucky always had a problem whenever your love life even breathed into the conversation. Said it was irrelevant. Unprofessional. A distraction.

Back when Yelena was your partner, the two of you used to spar and gossip at the same time, her dodging your punches while you gave dramatic play-by-plays of whatever your latest fling had done to you in bed the night before. She lived for it. Bucky? Not so much.

He’d cut the conversation short every time. Couldn’t even stand the sight of you laughing a little too long with someone else. He’d yank you away with some bullshit excuse like, ‘distractions on the field will get you killed’, or ‘do I need to report you for slacking off?’ Like you were breaking protocol instead of just being a human being.

You stepped into position across from him, tightening your stance, heat already prickling beneath your skin. From the glare he was giving you, he looked ready to fight. Good. So were you.

“Are you always such an asshole,” you said, voice flat, “or is that just a special little treat you save for me?”

He gave you a look, deadpan and infuriating. “Only when I’m working with someone who’s constantly late, distracted, or hungover.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose and threw a lazy jab, just to shut him up. He deflected it with a flick of his wrist like he could’ve done it in his sleep.

“And yet,” you muttered, circling to your right, “you wrote me a glowing mid-year report.”

His hand faltered for a split second. It was brief, but you caught it, a crack in the armour he hid behind.

“So you read it,” he replied, already shifting back into motion.

“Hard not to. Maria practically quoted it word for word at me in the hallway.”

His mouth flattened. “It was accurate.”

You scoffed and came at him again, this time with more force, a blow aimed at his jaw. He blocked with ease, catching your wrist mid-air and twisting just enough to tip your balance. You staggered, caught yourself, then stepped back with a glare.

“‘Most adaptive mentee in the current program,’” you quoted, circling him again.

A jab. He blocked it.

“‘Performs under pressure.’”

You followed up with a low kick aimed at his calf. He side-stepped like you were moving in slow motion.

“‘Good instincts in the field.’”

Another punch, this one he met palm to palm, stopping your momentum cold. You grit your teeth and shoved him off.

“‘Promising.’” You swept your foot in a feint and then struck at his ribs. He pivoted out of reach, breath barely changed. “‘Capable.’”

He lunged this time, arm out, trying to lock your elbow, but you twisted under it, ducking away, the mat skimming under your feet.

“‘Excellent recall.’” 

You squared off again, eyes locked on his.

“Why the hell,” you asked, low and angry, “are you always such an asshole to my face when you’re singing my praises behind my back?”

He didn’t answer right away, moving like a shadow around you, eyes locked on yours. 

“As much as it pains me,” he finally spoke, tone flat, “you are my best mentee. Even if I dislike you personally, I felt your report should reflect that.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown. That was… probably the most praise you’d ever got from him—buried beneath the usual bullshit, sure, but praise nonetheless. On a good day, you might get a grunted ‘good’ if you were lucky. Most of the time, training with Bucky was just an endless list of everything you were doing wrong, punctuated by a jab to the ribs for emphasis.

“Do you always make your compliments sound like insults?”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Just the truth.”

You threw a kick toward his side, fast and impulsive. He caught your ankle and held it, grip firm around your calf for a second too long. His vibranium fingers were cold, even through the fabric of your leggings. You could’ve sworn they tightened around the muscle just a fraction as your eyes swept up to give him a look of disbelief. But instead of pulling away, you leaned into the moment and used the hold for balance. You pivoted hard on your grounded foot, letting the captured leg swing inward. Then you launched yourself forward, hooking your other leg around his waist, aiming to bring him down with you.

For a half-second, it worked. His balance shifted. Your hips were flush against him, legs locked tight around his torso as you twisted your weight, trying to drag him off his feet.

With a grunt, he straightened, twisted, and you suddenly found yourself airborne.

You hit the mat hard, slamming against it with a thud that knocked the breath out of you. The ceiling lights above blurred for a second as the impact rattled through your spine. His shadow hovered for a beat, chest rising with exertion, jaw clenched.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. Just stared down at you, maybe it was the oncoming concussion you probably just suffered, but you could’ve sworn there was a flash of concern in his eyes.

“Next time, I won’t let it slide if you don’t turn up because you’re hungover.” He wiped a forearm across his brow.

“How do you know my heart wasn’t broken?” You asked, shaking off the blow as you rose to your feet once more, feet finding their usual stance.

He arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Don’t you have sympathy for me?” you asked, somewhere between a joke and a challenge.

“I wouldn’t call it sympathy,” he said coolly. “More like pity.”

That stung more than you cared to admit. You rolled your shoulders, stepping in again. Your guard was up, but there was a crack in it now, frustration flaring under your skin.

“I can’t imagine you were actually that sad about it.” Bucky bit out, not even bothering to hide his annoyance now. “Don’t you have a new fling every other week? Sure sounded like you were lining up another one in the hallway.”

“Oh wow,” you drawled, voice harsh. “Slut shaming? This isn’t the 1940s, Barnes.”

“It’s not my fault who you choose to date.”

You exhaled, long and low. The tension between you had teeth now, gnawing at the air. “Y’know, for someone who hates me, you sure pay a lot of attention.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, fists flexing at his sides, poker-faced.

You waited, ready to shoulder any insult he laid on you. You could see irritation simmering under his skin, jaw ticking, knuckles white.

“I think you should take a lap or two around the room.” He huffed finally. “Your blocks are late, your punches are soft, and your stance is a joke. Try warming up before you embarrass both of us.”

You grinned back at him, though it was closer to baring your teeth than a show of amusement. “But I’m still your best mentee, huh?”

“Let’s make it five laps then.”

You gave him a lazy salute and turned for the edge of the mat.

“Whatever you say, Sergeant.”

As you jogged the first lap, footsteps echoing lightly in the private room, you could feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement and watching you like a hawk, like a fuse lit, waiting.

And damn it, you ran a little faster because of it.

—

If you’d known how this mission was going to turn out, you would’ve called in sick. Faked a family emergency. Broken your own damn leg. Anything to avoid being stuck alone with Bucky Barnes in a freezing H.Y.D.R.A. bunker from hell. You’d even considered whispering a desperate prayer to whatever all-seeing god might be listening—or hell, maybe begging Stephen Strange to yank you into an alternate universe where this wasn’t your reality.

Gunfire rattled somewhere outside the cement walls, and you imagined your fellow agents in the middle of all the fun, chucking grenades, dodging bullets, living the dream. Meanwhile, you were practically glued at the hip with Sergeant Sunshine, babysitting an ancient Soviet-era computer that looked like it still ran on dial-up.

You were perched on the edge of a desk, legs swinging, having shoved aside a mountain of dusty files scribbled in Russian. All completely useless to you.

“What is it with H.Y.D.R.A. and brutalist architecture?” you muttered, eyeing the thick ceiling. “Why does concrete get them so hard?”

“I can’t concentrate with all your whining.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s literally the first thing I’ve said in ten minutes, Barnes.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even throw you one of his signature grunts. Just kept clicking away like the keyboard had wronged him personally, eyes narrowed at the screen as if trying to decode the goddamn Rosetta Stone.

You groaned and rolled your head back, staring up at the ceiling.

More concrete.

You weren’t usually this unbearable on missions, but this? This whole situation felt like a personal attack. You’d been mid-flirt with Theo on the quinjet (who had been very committed to making bedroom eyes at you) when they’d called out team assignments. The second you heard your name paired with Barnes, tasked with data extraction while everyone else got to blow things up, you’d spun around to glare at him.

He’d been sitting there in his usual cold, statue-like stillness beside Steve, as if this wasn’t a death sentence. You’d stormed over, demanded if he knew anything. He just shrugged and muttered something about ‘higher-ups’.

The walls shook suddenly—another explosion—and dust drifted from the ceiling. You blinked it out of your lashes and slid lazily off the desk, sauntering over to where Bucky hunched at the terminal.

“Can you hurry it up? At this rate, they’re going to bury us alive in here.”

“Give me a second,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You leaned in slightly, eyeing the screen. A wall of Cyrillic met you, completely unreadable. You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that left your lips.

“Remind me again why we’re the ones doing this? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to send someone who actually speaks Russian to help you? Or, I don’t know, someone who has the patience to teach you how to use a flash drive?”

He didn’t answer, just kept typing and clicking, as if the keys owed him money.

You crossed your arms, scowling. The only thing more miserable than being stuck in a concrete crypt was being stuck in one with him. When he was distracted, like now, he forgot to wear that usual look of thinly veiled disappointment. His brow furrowed in focus, lips twitching as he muttered to himself in low, clipped Russian. He looked—God help you—human. Not like the cold-hearted pain-in-your-ass who’d spent the last six months tearing you down. But like someone thoughtful. Careful. Quietly brilliant.

And stupidly, stupidly attractive.

You hated how your eyes lingered on the way his rolled-up sleeves hugged his forearms. The way the shadows danced over his cheekbones and the little groove between his brows. The way that little furrow deepened when something didn’t go his way, like he was trying to wrestle the entire world into submission with sheer concentration alone.

It would’ve been easier if he were just awful. Easier if you didn’t catch glimpses of something else beneath the gruffness. Something that made your chest tighten a little when you weren’t focusing. 

You swallowed hard, forcing your eyes to the screen. What was wrong with you?

The download bar finally appeared on the screen, crawling forward at a snail’s pace. You exhaled loudly, half in relief, half in impatience. 

“About time,” you muttered.

He shot you a look, cold and flat. “You wanna do it?”

You turned your back on him, pacing the room. Your nerves were coiled tight, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions growing louder. The base was a pressure cooker and the damn download bar still hovered at 34%.

While you were busy taking your own turn brooding, the heavy metal door at the far end of the room slammed open with a deafening clang, nearly launching you out of your skin. Three armed H.Y.D.R.A. agents stormed in, rifles raised, eyes locked on target.

So much for the diversion. Clearly, it hadn’t been enough—or worse, H.Y.D.R.A. had seen through it. They must’ve realised it wasn’t a full-blown William-the-Conqueror-style invasion, just a cleverly dressed-up distraction.

“Company,” Bucky muttered, pulling his sidearm in one smooth motion.

You were already moving, instincts kicking in before your brain could catch up. You dove low, sliding across the slick concrete floor as a hail of bullets tore through the room. You grabbed the nearest overturned chair, dragging it into place just in time as metal pinged and sparked against it.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. A single, precise shot rang out, dropping the first H.Y.D.R.A. agent without a flinch. You didn’t stop to think. You surged forward, catching the second agent by surprise, your knee slamming into his gut with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He doubled over, right into the crack of your gun butt across his temple. He crumpled, unconscious, before he hit the floor.

Then you saw the third.

Rifle up.

Aimed right at you.

“Get down!”

The shout was raw, sharp enough to slice through the chaos. You barely had time to turn your head before a body crashed into yours. His arm slammed into your torso, hurling you sideways just as the trigger was pulled.

The shot cracked like thunder.

Your back hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor. Pain flared along your shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the sound that followed, the harsh, guttural grunt that tore out of Bucky’s throat.

You twisted around.

He was down, gasping, clutching at his side and blood already soaking through the black fabric of his suit.

You scrambled back to him just as the final agent aimed again. Snarling, you fired three quick shots into the bastard’s chest before he collapsed in a heap.

The air went still for only a moment, then the ground trembled violently before you had a chance to assess the damage done to Bucky. Chunks of the ceiling cracked and began to rain down. Concrete groaned like a beast waking from a long sleep.

You turned to the computer, some unreadable symbols flashing across the screen, but you were quick enough to decipher that it meant the download was complete. Snatching the flash drive, you spun back to Bucky, who was trying to sit up, blood spilling between his fingers as he pressed them hard against the wound in his side.

“Get up,” you barked, crouching beside him. “We need to move, Barnes!”

—

The two of you had spent nearly two damn hours stumbling through the snow-blanketed mountainside, following the rough coordinates burned into your mind from the mission briefing. By the time the cabin finally came into view—half-buried in the snow, smoke long gone from the chimney—you were soaked to the bone and one more smart comment away from throttling him.

The escape had been messy, the H.Y.D.R.A base nearly becoming your tomb. You’d been forced to bolt through a collapsing back corridor, dragging the injured super soldier along with the last of your adrenaline. Between the debris, the gunfire, and the growing dark stain across his side, you weren’t sure how either of you had made it out. Worse still, you’d missed the quinjet extraction window by twenty minutes. The skies had turned black with storm clouds, wind howling across the range as ice and snow stung your cheeks. The base had finally picked up your call for aid on the mission-assigned satellite phone, but due to zero visibility and increased H.Y.D.R.A activity in the area, the replacement quinjet wouldn’t arrive until first light.

Which meant you were stuck together. In the cold. For the whole night.

The safehouse, at least, was still intact. A small timber cabin tucked between trees, barely standing but just enough. It had a lounge no bigger than a broom closet, a wood-burning stove long dead and cold, a bathroom you prayed had running water, and a single bedroom with a mattress that looked like it had seen better decades.

Your breath misted in the air as you slammed the door behind you, the wind nearly ripping the handle from your grip. Bucky collapsed onto the torn couch by the stove without a word, letting out a low groan that he probably thought you didn’t hear.

You should’ve made starting the fire your first priority. But one look at the blood soaking through Bucky’s side made that choice for you.

Now, kneeling between his legs with the remnants of the first-aid kit splayed out on the coffee table, whoever had been here last hadn’t restocked it properly. You glared up at Bucky as he shifted under your touch again. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you hissed, dabbing antiseptic across the wound with a gauze pad. “You keep flinching.”

“Because you’re digging in like you’re trying to punish me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” you muttered.

He scoffed, muscles twitching beneath your hands as you pressed down. “Are you always this demanding?”

“Are you always this whiny?”

His glare was instant, eyes narrowed. “Is it your goal to piss everyone off?”

“I’m a fucking delight, and you know that.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “I think you’re mistaken. I definitely don’t like you.”

You lifted your brows, trying to keep your voice light despite the roiling mix of emotions spilling out. “You say that like you didn’t just take a bullet for me.”

You hadn’t even had the time to process it when it happened. The crash of his body slamming into yours, the sound of the gunshot, and the sickening thud of him hitting the ground. But now, with him sitting across from you, shirt dark with blood and a fresh gash still weeping crimson, the weight of it began to settle in.

He took a bullet for you.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Part of you expected him to twist it somehow, to throw it back in your face as some kind of lesson that you were careless. That you’d left an opening. That he had to clean up your mess. You were already bracing for it, the sting of snide remarks spread over weeks like salt in a wound, little digs during training about how you ‘owe him one’ or how ‘distractions get people killed’.

And yet... he hadn’t said any of that.

Instead, he just shrugged, wincing slightly. “I heal faster because of the serum,” he muttered, voice gruff but quieter than usual. “I’ll be back on the field faster than you ever could.”

You stared at him.

At the stubborn line of his jaw, the tight press of his lips as he tried not to show how much pain he was in. The way his hand gripped his side was too tight. The blood beneath his fingernails.

Why had he done that?

You weren’t always the easiest to get along with. You’d spent months pushing each other’s buttons, arguing, fighting, constantly locked in a cold war of insults and bruises. So why? Why would he throw himself into a bullet’s path for you?

It was hard not to feel... something. Flattered, maybe. A little shocked. And, against your better judgment, grateful. You didn’t want to be grateful—not to him, of all people—but your stomach wrenched every time you replayed the moment in your head.

You didn’t ask him to do it. And yet, he did.

And now he was pretending it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t made a split-second decision to put your life before his own. What if that bullet had hit a little higher? His heart? His throat? His skull?

“Sure,” you drawled, trying to cover for your sudden silence. “Great excuse.”

“It’s the truth.” He muttered. 

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing.

Which, somehow, said everything.

You stared at him for a moment longer, shaking your head as you tossed the bloodied gauze into the small bin beside the couch. The cold was starting to settle into your bones, your fingers stiff with it.

“Whatever. I’m going to try to find some firewood before we freeze to death.”

He glanced toward the boarded-up window, ice clinging to the edges. “You sure there’s any left out there?”

“Nope.” You pulled on your jacket. “But I’d rather get eaten by a bear than stay in here with you.”

You were halfway to the door before you paused, glancing over your shoulder.

“Can you get to that bed yourself, or do you need me to do that for you, too, super soldier?”

His answer came quickly, teeth clenched. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

You couldn’t deny the nausea in your stomach. Not from worry. Definitely not that. Just frustration. That’s all it was.

The wind nearly ripped the door from your hands as you stepped outside. Snow came in sideways, biting at your skin the second you crossed the threshold. You tugged your jacket tighter and trudged into the blizzard, squinting against the blur of white.

The woodshed was exactly where the briefing had said it’d be, about ten feet from the side of the cabin, half-hidden by trees. Or at least, had been. What you found instead was a crooked mess of collapsed timber and broken beams. Snow had settled deep into the heap, and every piece of wood you managed to drag free was soaked, the logs heavy with ice and rot.

You swore, breath clouding in the air.

You searched anyway, fingers numb, arms shaking. You tried the back of the cabin. Nothing. Even the branches scattered beneath the trees were too damp. No kindling, no dry bark, not even a damn pinecone. The cold was sinking deeper now, crawling down your spine and settling like an anchor in your chest. You didn’t want to push further into the wilderness, not in this weather and not with H.Y.D.R.A. agents crawling all over the mountainside. 

By the time you stumbled back inside and forced the door closed again, you could hardly feel your fingers or toes. Every limb ached like they were five seconds away from turning purple and black from frostbite. The cabin felt just as cold as the outside, but it was a momentary relief to be out of the wind that cut through your thick layers.

Bucky was on the bed, half-sitting up against the wall, the blanket pulled low across his hips. His eyes flicked up as you entered, taking in your dripping hair and shaking hands.

"Let me guess," he muttered. "No luck?"

You didn’t answer right away, just peeled your jacket off and dropped it near the door with a wet splat. “Everything’s soaked. The shed’s collapsed.”

He exhaled through his nose, chest deflating with the effort. “You’re freezing.”

You ignored him, stomping the snow off your boots. “I’ll live.”

“Not if you keep acting like a damn idiot.”

You turned to glare at him. “I’m sorry, which one of us got shot again?”

You crouched down, your knees protesting as you bent to untie your boots, but your fingers were too stiff, trembling from the cold. The laces had frozen slightly, the knots tight and uncooperative. You hissed through your teeth, fumbling and cursing under your breath as you tugged uselessly at them.

Bucky watched from the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t move to help, but you could feel his eyes on you. He tilted his head slightly and gave you a look that was half-concerned, half-exasperated, like you did this to yourself.

With a final frustrated yank, you freed your boot and kicked it off, followed quickly by the other. A damp string of muttered profanities trailed from your lips as you scrambled back to your feet, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. 

“Which one of us,” Bucky spoke pointedly, breath fogging in the air between you, “went outside to play in a blizzard and came back looking like a drowned rat?”

You were shivering now, teeth on the verge of chattering, but you still squared your shoulders and stared him down, as defiant as ever. A bead of melted snow trailed down your temple. He stared right back.

“Get over here,” he said finally.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to warm up.” His tone was flat, too practical. “And the bed’s the only warm place in this shithole.”

“Oh, now you care about my well-being?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Just lifted the edge of the blanket.

You hesitated, eyeing the small mattress like it might bite you. "You’re the worst."

"And you’re still standing in wet clothes. Take them off and get in."

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“Not all of them,” he said, eyes rolling. “Just the top layer before you die of hypothermia. Stop being dramatic.”

With a theatrical sigh for good measure, you peeled off your wet sweater, leaving the thermal shirt beneath and then your pants. You did not check to see if he was watching you shivering in your underwear, cheeks flushed. You padded toward the bed like it was a walk to your own execution, hesitating again at the edge.

You tried—really tried—not to let your eyes linger on the broad plane of his chest, but it was impossible not to. His shirt was rumpled and half-untucked, the hem tugged up where he’d peeled it back to expose the bandage on his side. The white gauze was already marred with deep red, blooming in uneven patches that made you pause with something halfway between guilt and concern. Your gaze drifted to the sharp curve of his waist, the ridge of muscle visible beneath the bloodied wrappings. 

It was distracting. 

He was distracting.

But what you tried hardest not to think about was the bed. Specifically, how absurdly small the mattress looked with him sitting on it, shoulders nearly brushing both edges. There was no way you’d both fit. You’d be pressed against him. Shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, knee to thigh. 

You swallowed hard and told yourself not to think about it.

But you were already thinking about it.

“Don’t make it weird,” Bucky muttered.

“I’m not making it weird.”

He let out a low, tired huff, the kind that told you he was in pain but too stubborn to say it. You rolled your eyes in reply, more at yourself than him, and climbed in carefully, slipping beneath the blanket with a reluctant shiver. The bed was warmer than expected. Or rather, he was. Bucky radiated heat like a furnace, the kind that seeped into your skin and made your limbs relax before your mind could catch up. You hovered near the edge of the mattress, body stiff, spine straight like it might help you keep your distance. But it was a hopeless attempt. The bed was tiny—criminally small, really—and with him taking up so much space, there was nowhere to go but closer. One wrong move and you’d be on the floor.

“God, you’re warm,” you muttered into the pillow, trying not to sound too affected.

“Serum,” he replied shortly, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Slowly, inch by inch, you gave in. The chill in the air made it too easy to justify. You shifted toward him, the blanket tugging between you as your arm brushed against his. Then your hip. Then your thigh. Until, somehow, your bodies were nearly flush. 

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t say a word.

And that somehow made it worse.

The silence settled between you, heavy and warm and intimate, like the air itself had thickened. You could hear his breathing, steady, but a little too deliberate. You could see his chest rise and fall from the corner of your eye. And worse, you could feel him. Every inch of him. The solid line of muscle at your side. The way your knees had somehow locked together under the blanket. How your forearm grazed his with every breath you took.

You needed a distraction. Desperately.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you snatched up the battered satellite phone, almost too quickly. The cold metal was jarring against your palm. For a moment, you considered activating the self-destruct protocol and blowing both of you up to end your shared misery. You flicked it on, the screen’s pale light casting long shadows across the room and across him.

Your eyes flicked over before you could stop them.

He was already staring at the ceiling, the faint furrow between his brows still present even in rest. His profile was defined in the low light, long lashes, strong nose, and the stubble on his jaw catching just a hint of light.

You forced yourself to look back at the tiny screen to check for any new updates.

Nothing. You were well and truly in for the night.

You scrolled to the mission briefing instead, flicking through the files to pass time, anything to distract you.

And then you saw it.

There, buried under the pre-mission notes, weather expectations, and extraction protocol, was a small addendum in the personnel request section.

Operation HARVEST: Agent Barnes, James B.Requested field partner: Agent 00149. Request approved.

You stared at it, the room suddenly quieter than it had been all night. 

That was your agent number.

He asked for you.

The same man who had spent the last six months grunting his way through every interaction, who seemed perpetually annoyed by your existence, who had made a point never to give you more than an ounce of credit, had explicitly asked to be paired with you.

You felt your throat tighten.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, as if he could sense your world shattering around you. His voice was low, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion 

You didn’t answer right away. You sat there, still curled under the heavy covers. The warmth of his body was helping, yes—but your blood was starting to simmer for a very different reason.

You turned slowly, holding the satellite phone up between your fingers.

“You want to tell me why it says on the briefing notes that you requested me as your partner for this mission?”

Bucky blinked once. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out.

“I asked you on the quinjet if you knew anything,” you went on, voice harsh now. “You told me it was a higher-up’s decision. You lied to my face.”

Bucky sighed through his nose, already bracing himself as he sat up straighter against the headboard. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” you scoffed, pushing yourself to your knees to face him, ignoring the goosebumps that rose as the blankets fell from your shoulders. “You picked me. You had me assigned to a mission with you, just the two of us, didn’t tell me, and then lied about it.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“You did lie.”

He dragged a hand down his face, slow and weary, but there was tension in the movement, an edge of frustration barely restrained. “I didn’t want you partnered with the other guys, alright?”

You faltered, unsure if you heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“No, you can’t just say that and not explain—”

“Fine!” He groaned, exasperated. His eyes dropped away from yours, fixing instead on a knot in the cabin’s dark wood wall. “I heard them talking. Theo and a few of the other agents.”

“What?” you asked, voice tight. “What were they saying about me?”

He didn’t answer. The silence stretched, heavy and awful.

“Just say it,” you bit out.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And it hit you square in the chest, something dark and protective burning behind his eyes. But it was reluctant, too, as if he hated that he was about to say it out loud.

His voice was low and rough when it came. “That you’re easy. That it’d be simple to get you into bed because you’re always asking for it. That you’re a slut. I gave them a piece of my mind and reported them, but I still don’t want you around them.”

You felt it like a punch to the gut.

Your breath caught, the sting behind your eyes immediate and hot. You blinked once. Twice. The words echoed, raw and ugly, and for a second, all you could do was try not to let them settle too deep. Not to let them stick.

You weren’t naïve. You knew you didn’t sleep around any more than anyone else your age. You knew that if the situation were flipped, if you were a man, no one would bat an eye. And still, the weight of it settled heavy in your gut, all twisted up with something darker. Dread. Shame. Fury. And under it all… that sick, crawling feeling that maybe Bucky had said something. Given them reason to think they could say it. That maybe he thought the same thing deep down.

That, maybe, to him, you were just some mess he had to clean up.

The words came fast, your voice shaking. “And what, you thought you’d ride in and defend me like some white knight? You know I could easily drop Theo, I could easily drop any of those assholes!” Bucky blinked, caught off guard, but you were already going, bitter heat rising in your throat like bile.

“You thought that would make it better?” you snapped. “You think that helps? They’re probably all laughing behind my back about how I can’t defend myself—”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let them talk about you like that!”

“Why?” you demanded. “Because you didn’t want to hear it? Or because you’ve thought the same fucking thing?”

His eyes flared with disbelief, maybe even insult.

“I would never think of you that way,” he barked, and his voice cracked like thunder. “Let alone say it out loud. Because I’m not an asshole. Not like those guys you date.”

You laughed, blunt and hollow. “Why do you care who I date?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t come up with any words, but to your surprise, he exploded before you. “Maybe because you deserve better!” he shouted, the words ripping out of him before he could take them back.

The silence after that was suffocating.

You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest, a strange cocktail of feelings in your stomach that you didn’t care to identify. He sat there, breathing hard, his hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to speak again.

“Jesus,” you muttered. You weren’t foolish enough to believe him, to fall victim to whatever joke he was trying to play. “Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” he mumbled this time. 

You turned your face away. “Oh yeah? Like you could do any better? Don’t be ridiculous.”

His breath hitched, like you’d slapped him. You could feel him shift beside you under the covers.

“You really think that?” Bucky asked in disbelief.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But Bucky didn’t let it stay quiet.

“You want to know the truth?” he asked, voice low and rough, as if the words had been caged for too long in his throat. “Fine.”

You turned back toward him, uncertain what expression you were even wearing anymore.

“I’ve liked you since the first damn time I saw you,” he said. “Group training. You were paired with some agent twice your size, and you still knocked him on his ass.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“I thought you were… brilliant. And sharp. And confident. And yeah, beautiful too. You had this way of looking right through people—through me—and it scared the shit out of me. When they assigned me to mentor you, I panicked,” he said, with a dry, bitter laugh. “I thought if I pretended, if I was distant, if I acted cold, I could make it go away. Trick myself out of it.”

“But it just got worse,” he went on. “Every time I saw you smiling at some sleaze who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, every time I had to watch you flirt with some smug asshole agents, I wanted to break something. Because it should’ve been me.”

You shook your head slowly, stunned. “Bucky…”

“I hated watching you get your heart broken over and over again,” he said. “Hated seeing you walk into training after pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t deserve that. Not when I knew I could treat you better if I just had the fucking guts to say something.”

Your ribs felt suddenly too small for your body, bones pressing into your lungs.

“And now we’re stuck on a mountainside,” he said, his voice softer, hoarser, “and I’m here bleeding in a bed with you, still lying to you, still trying to act like it doesn’t kill me every time you look at me like I’m just your mentor who you hate.”

You gaped in stunned silence, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Bucky watched you expectantly.

No. No, that couldn’t be what he meant. Not really.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel joke you’re playing on me,” you finally said, voice shaking, fingers knotted in the sheets. “I don’t get it. You’ve spent this whole time being…”

“I’m being serious,” he said, eyes locked on you. “I don’t expect you to believe me. I’ve fucked this up too many times. But I swear on my life, I’m not playing a game.”

You stared at him, blinking hard. “So what, this entire time you’ve been an asshole because you were what, pretending? Pretending that you didn’t like me, pretending that you weren’t jealous, when you could’ve just talked to me?”

His silence was immediate. Heavy. It told you everything you needed to know.

Your chest rose and fell too fast. Your mind was spinning, flipping through every memory like a film reel: his cold shoulder, his clipped instructions, the scowls when you joked with someone else, the way he always hovered a few steps too close in combat zones. The way he always caught you when you fell. There had been moments. Tiny fractures in his mask. The way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The time he bandaged your hand without a word, but so gently it had made your throat tighten. The night you caught him staring at you across the gym like he was in pain.

How had you missed it?

“I need to…” You whispered, slumping back under the sheets, pulling the blanket higher around yourself as if it might guard you from the ache in your ribs. “We should sleep. It’s late. Evac’s coming once the sun is up.”

He didn’t protest. He just nodded once, jaw tight.

Neither of you said another word.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

—

You hadn’t seen much of Bucky since you were both airlifted off the mountain.

He’d been recovering from his wound, officially. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was avoiding you. No texts. No nods in the hallway. No eye contact across the cafeteria. Just cold silence.

Coward.

You’d spent the past week half-waiting for him to come to his senses. The other half had been consumed wondering what the hell you’d do if he did. Because yes, you found him infuriating. Yes, he was emotionally constipated and moody and had the charm of a brick wall. But he was also gorgeous in that tortured-soul, sharp-jawed, arms-too-big-for-his-shirts kind of way. He cared about you, in his own twisted Bucky way. He’d taken a bullet for you. Defended you. Chose you.

And now he was just… gone.

You were leaning against the wall at the edge of the main gym, arms crossed, purposefully not looking at Theo and the other assholes you had suspected Bucky had been right about, when you heard footsteps and someone cleared their throat beside you.

Yelena stood beside you, her smirk suspiciously wider than usual.

You turned, brows knitting in apprehension. “Hey.”

“Congratulations,” 

“For what?” You replied hesitantly, watching as her brows lifted in delighted surprise. 

“You haven’t heard?” Her voice was alarmingly gleeful, like she was especially thrilled to be the bearer of whatever news she was about to lay upon you. “Barnes finally accepted your mentor transfer request.”

Your heart flatlined for a second. 

“What?”

Yelena, oblivious to your distress, continued to dig further. “I don’t know what you did to him up on that mountain, but… damn. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

“I didn’t ask for a mentor transfer,” you muttered, dread settling in your chest.

Yelena’s expression faltered. “Oh. Well, you have one now. You’re with Thor. They tried to pawn you off onto me, but you know, got my hands busy with the new group coming in—”

“Thor?!” You snapped, interrupting her spiel, “He’s a drunk! And he’s not even here half the time, too busy in Asgard—”

Yelena gave you a helpless shrug, and that’s when the doors to the gym opened and in walked the ghost of your week-long frustration.

Bucky was in full training gear, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, compression shirt clinging to him like a second skin. His hair was ruffled, pushed back half-heartedly like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it, a few strands falling into his eyes. The corded muscles of his arms were on full display, the glint of his vibranium arm catching the light with every step. He looked unfairly good, carved from grief and sleepless nights. But it was the way he wouldn’t look at you that struck harder than anything else. His jaw was tight, lips set in a permanent pout, that brooding scowl etched so deep it felt deliberate. He looked everywhere but at you, like you weren’t even there. 

Your blood boiled.

Without a word, you peeled yourself from the wall and marched toward him. He spotted you mid-stride, his posture tensing like he was preparing for impact.

“Hey—” he started.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, voice low and venom-laced.

“Not here,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the other agents filtering in behind you. A few of them had already glanced over curiously, settling in for whatever show was about to unfold.

“Too late,” you hissed. “You requested a mentor transfer for me without even telling me?”

“I thought it was what you wanted.” You both knew he was lying, and he refused to meet your eye. This wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about him feeling embarrassed after his outburst on the mountain. 

“Oh, really?” You stepped closer. “Because I don’t remember asking you to make my career decisions for me.”

“I was doing you a favour.”

“Yeah? Maybe try talking to me like a normal fucking person, and then I’ll tell you what I want.”

His eyes flickered up, stormy blues locking onto your face. “And what is it you want?”

You stared him down, tilting your head slightly, weighing the war going on inside you.

You.

I want you.

The thought was immediate, impulsive, and so painfully real it made your chest ache. But you shoved it down, crushed it before it could breathe. No. That was stupid. Why the hell would you want him—this man-child who’d ghosted you for a week, who’d spent the last six months acting like every word out of your mouth was a personal offence, who seemed to find joy in making you feel like nothing?

But then again… maybe you both had been trying so hard to deny the truth, burying something under six months of thinly veiled insults and sparring matches that got too rough. Maybe he was pushing you away because he didn’t trust himself to keep it professional. And maybe you were just as bad, biting back, rising to the bait, pretending you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered or the way his voice softened when you were actually hurt.

You had to know if it was real.

The shuffle of movement and muffled chatter around you signalled the start of group training, slicing through your heated stand-off. Agents around you began to pair off, leaving you and Bucky still locked in place, face to face, breath mingling.

You lifted your chin. “Be my sparring partner?” you asked, voice loud enough for the others to hear, but eyes fixed solely on him.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, tight-lipped, like he’d been waiting for the invitation all along.

You squared off on the mat, bouncing on your toes, adrenaline already coiling in your veins. Bucky moved like a soldier, controlled, fluid, annoyingly graceful.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he muttered as you circled.

“I’m not,” you said, “Just testing a theory.”

He raised a brow. “What theory?”

You lunged, caught his arm, and twisted into a low grapple—just enough to draw him in.

His chest brushed yours. His breath hitched.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

Your lips crashed against his mid-motion, stealing the next move right off his tongue. You felt him freeze, just for a heartbeat, before his hands twitched at your waist like he didn’t know whether to shove you away or pull you in. You felt the tension roll off him in waves. The way his body reacted was instinct. Shock. Hunger. 

His movements hesitated, and to your delight, despite the entire gym watching, he began to kiss you back. 

And that hesitation?

It was all you needed.

You shifted fast, breaking the kiss, then ducking low, hooking your leg behind his knee as you spun. In one fluid motion, you swept his legs out from under him and used the twist of your momentum to pull him down with you. He stumbled, off-balance, and you moved like lightning, hips snapping around his waist, thighs locking tight. You rotated with the drop, forcing him onto his back as you rolled with the momentum.

He hit the mat hard.

You were straddling him, thighs clamped around his ribs, palms flat on his chest. You smirked down at him, panting. 

Bucky stared up at you, winded, stunned, and very, very pinned. “That was dirty.”

You leaned down, your face just inches from his again. “So was your little mentor stunt. Call it even.”

Throughout the room, the entire gym was dead silent, staring. You gracefully dismounted him and marched off the mat, but Bucky scrambled up and followed you.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” you snapped as he caught up beside you.

“You can’t just kiss me and then walk away like that!”

“Why not?”

“You kissed me to mess with me.”

“I kissed you to see if you meant what you said on the mountain.”

The two of you burst through the gym doors and into the hallway. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. Bucky’s heavy footsteps were right behind you, his presence unmistakable, all coiled frustration and breathless anger.

A few agents stood frozen near the water station, others lingering by the mission board, all of them caught mid-conversation as they turned to witness the fallout. You were aware of the eyes on you, the awkward silence that followed, but you didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them gossip.

You stormed past them without pause as Bucky chased you like a dog on a leash that was just about to snap.

“You just kissed me in the middle of sparring,” he shouted after you, voice ragged and accusing. “In front of everyone. Is this a joke to you?” 

You didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. The elevator was too slow, too exposed. Instead, you veered to the stairwell and shoved the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall. The clanging echo followed you as you started up, two steps at a time.

“Oh my god, would you just shut up already?” you snapped over your shoulder, breath catching as your hand slid along the metal railing, spiralling up the concrete stairwell. 

Behind you, Bucky cursed under his breath. “It was unfair.”

He reached for you and just missed your wrist. You yanked it away before he could try again, your skin buzzing with the ghost of contact.

“Isn’t that what you taught me to do? Use anything to my advantage?” you bit out, pushing through the next door as you reached your floor. The hall here was quieter and dimmer. You passed rows of familiar doors. Your apartment was at the end of the corridor, and every step toward it made your pulse throb louder in your ears. “What, you have a problem with me using my assets against you?

“Assets, huh? You know, you really are unbelievable—”

You let out an exasperated groan, cutting him back. “You kissed me back.”

That stopped him.

His boots scraped the floor as he slowed a few paces behind you, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock.

“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your key in the door. The metal clicked, and you pushed it open with a little more care this time.

“You kissed me back,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself this time and stepped inside. 

Bucky barged in after you.

“You don’t understand—I’m… I’m trying to protect you!” His voice followed you into the room, desperate. 

You kicked off your shoes without looking at him. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Would you just listen for once—” he snapped, shutting the door behind him. 

You rolled your eyes and started pulling off your shirt, tossing it onto your bed and turned to face him, arms crossed. “I am listening, you’re the one not listening to me.”

Bucky stood just inside the door, like he hadn’t decided whether to walk out or burn the whole damn building down. 

“I shouldn’t have told you that on the mountain, it was unprofessional of me.” His voice cracked as his words poured out faster than it seemed he could stop them, emotion thick in every syllable. “I requested the mentor switch because I don’t trust myself to keep pretending. I can’t control myself around you!”

You padded barefoot across the room to the small bathroom.

“How am I supposed to go on training you?” He muttered, gesturing vaguely in your direction. He was repeating himself now, rambling like a crazed man completely oblivious to your actions. “You pull that stunt in the middle of training, humiliate both of us in front of the others, and then act like it meant nothing? Jesus, I can’t even think straight when you—”

You peeled your leggings off and let it fall to the floor behind you.

“—and don’t even get me started on that assets comment! What the hell does that even mean? You can’t just go around weaponising your—”

You unclasped your bra and bent to turn on the shower. The hiss of water filled the room, steam already curling up the mirror.

“—I mean, are you even hearing yourself? You just, what? Decided to tackle and kiss me like it was some kind of training tactic?! That’s not even…Are you using my confession against me? God, you’re impossible, I swear—”

He looked up.

And stopped.

Mid-sentence. Mid-breath.

There you were, back turned, steam catching on the bare curve of your spine and trailing over the lines of your thighs, standing in nothing but your underwear.

His words died in his throat like a car slamming into a wall.

Mouth slightly open. Eyes locked. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder, saw the exact moment it hit him and raised a brow, feigning casual curiosity as you stepped toward the open shower door, letting the foggy heat billow around your legs.

“You joining me?” you asked sweetly. “Sure sounds like you need to cool off.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

Like you’d just knocked the wind out of him for the second time that day. Just that haunted, hungry look in his eyes like he was trying to figure out if he’d died and gone to hell. Or heaven.

His mouth opened, like he had something to say, some half-assed rebuttal, some snarky comeback.

But no words came out.

Only a low, helpless breath.

“I wasn’t using it against you.” You clarified as you dragged your underwear down your legs, tossing them somewhere across the room. “I was seeing if you meant what you said.”

You stepped nto the shower, leaving him stood stunned in the bathroom doorway. A soft sigh slipped from your lips as warm water poured down your shoulders and back, washing away the dull ache in your muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there, facing the stream, eyes closed, the patter of droplets against your scalp soothing like white noise in a storm.

Then came the soft rattle of the shower door behind you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was him.

The subtle swish of movement was followed by the cool press of metal against your waist, his vibranium arm snaking around you, cool against the heat of the water and your flushed skin. Goosebumps prickled instantly across your stomach, nipples peaking at the contrast.

You turned slowly, steam swirling around you in thick waves as you met Bucky’s eyes. His wet hair was slicked against his neck, droplets clinging to the dark strands and sliding down his jawline. Beads of water traced the line of his throat and the rise of his Adam’s apple, disappearing over the muscle of his chest. His hands found your hips, warm and solid, the grip almost possessive.

You tried not to look down, tried not to let your eyes drift to the answer to a question you’d been too proud to ask. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you stepped into him, letting your palms slide up the hard planes of his chest, past his dogtags and looped around the back of his neck.

“I think this is going to do the opposite of cooling me down,” he muttered, voice husky, half-lost beneath the steady rhythm of water hitting tile.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, and then you kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle.

Your mouths crashed together like you’d both been holding back for too long. Hungry. Desperate. Sloppy. The water only made it messier, lips sliding, catching, breath hissing as teeth grazed. He kissed like he needed to claim this moment before the world snapped back into place. You returned the kiss with equal urgency, fingers threading into his wet hair, tugging, needing more.

His hands slid down your back, firm, sure, guiding you until your spine pressed against the slick wall of the shower. You wrapped a leg around his hip, instinctive, needy, and he growled softly into your mouth as his hand dropped to support your thigh, holding you steady. You ground your hips into him, once, twice. His grip tightened, and the next thing you knew, he was lifting you, hands firm on your ass as he carried you effortlessly from the shower. The bathroom was thick with steam, fog curling along the edges of the mirror and dripping from the ceiling. Water trailed down both of you, soaking the tiles as he strode across the room.

Your back met the edge of the counter with a soft thud, followed by the chill of the fogged-up mirror behind you. The coolness shocked your skin and made your spine arch sharply, drawing a low noise from your throat. Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He was still kissing you, still swallowing your gasp as his hands ran down your thighs and urged them further apart.

He stepped in, slotting himself between your legs, his body flush against yours. The sensation of him made your head spin. Water from the still-running shower continued to hiss in the background, steam billowing out and filling the room like a cocoon. You were both soaked, skin slick and glistening, lips swollen, breaths short. Your fingers found the back of his neck again, anchoring yourself as he kissed you deeper, slower now, like he was savouring every second.

His hands slid down your hips and tugged you forward until your thighs bracketed his waist. You felt his cock, solid and insistent, pulsing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your breath caught.

“I think I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He confessed between kisses, before consuming you again.

It took little resistance for him to push into you in one smooth motion. You weren’t just drenched from the shower. Your whole body sang from the shock of it, a strangled sound tearing from your throat as your fingers fisted in his wet hair. His mouth tore from yours with a ragged gasp, trailing down your jaw, your neck, leaving fire in his wake. Bucky braced a hand behind you on the counter, the other gripping your thigh, steadying you as his hips began to move precise and relentless.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he muttered into the curve of your neck, voice wrecked. His lips brushed against your pulse, the edge of his teeth grazing the skin like he was half a second from losing control. “How many nights I told myself I couldn’t touch you... shouldn’t want you, couldn’t have you.”

You let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as his hips snapped forward again. 

“Keep going,” you rasped, one hand clawing up the curve of his back, the other buried in his hair. “Don’t stop.”

His only reply was a low, broken groan against your skin, like he was coming apart just from the feel of you wrapped around him. You locked your ankles behind him and rocked your hips forward, drawing him deeper. A spark of pleasure flared up your spine, making your head fall back against the fogged-up mirror..

“I tried so fucking hard to keep my distance.” He chuckled low against your collarbone, though the sound was strained, caught between shallow pants and a raw groan of need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His vibranium hand slid between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with gentle strokes, and your body jolted in response. An uncontrollable whimper left you as your thighs trembled around him.

“I’ve been dying to hear those sounds from you.” Bucky panted against your ear. 

You pressed closer to him, shaking legs tightening around his waist as you pursued his fingers. He chuckled at your poorly hidden desperation, chest vibrating from the sound. As his fingers swirled, cock pumping in and out, you felt your body clench involuntarily around him, drawing a moan from him. 

“Fuck, Bucky, ” you breathed, barely able to form the word as your pleasure surged, unrelenting and dizzying. “If I’d known this was what you were holding back, I would’ve pushed harder.”

Bucky’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming uneven and desperate, chasing the high he could feel coiling tighter in both of you. Your raw moans echoed around the small bathroom, rising above the hiss of the shower and the frantic beat of the slap of wet skin. Your climax broke over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your entire body arched, legs trembling as you whimpered, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. Pleasure tore through you like lightning, leaving your nerves sparking in its wake.

With a guttural groan muffled against your neck, Bucky followed you over the edge. You felt him twitch inside you, warmth spreading as he spilt into you, his hips stuttering erratically as he buried himself as deep as he could go. His arms tightened around you, as though he needed to hold you close to keep himself grounded.

For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that. Tangled together, trembling, the heat of the afterglow. The water still rained behind you, forgotten, as you both came down slowly, limbs heavy and slick with sweat and steam. Then, slowly, Bucky lifted his head to look at you. His hair was plastered to his forehead in wet strands, water trailing down the lines of his cheekbones and along his jaw. His eyes, dark and hungry, searched yours with a mix of dazed satisfaction and something else. A flicker of awe, maybe. Or disbelief.

You gave him a slow, wicked smirk and reached up to brush a dripping lock of hair off his brow, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“I need you to pull that transfer request, by the way,” you murmured, voice low and rough with breath. “There is no way in hell I’m training with Thor.”

His lips twitched, a hoarse laugh escaping him, short and surprised. But the fire in his gaze didn’t fade. If anything, it darkened.

“I’ll pull it…” he said, voice thick with promise as his hands slid back down to your waist, “…when I’m done with you.”

From the way his fingers gripped your hips, you had a feeling that wouldn’t be anytime soon. 

---

hello! i no longer have a taglist because it got too long and was reaching the tag limit. if you want to be notified when i post please follow @artficlly-updates and turn on post notifications!

[navybrat817]

Sanctuary

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: The shower is a sanctuary, and Bucky can't resist joining you.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smut, tenderness and feels, thoughts of marriage and kids, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: A nonnie inspired me. I'm picturing this before Bucky gets married, but you can view it however you'd like. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You stood under the spray of the water, not bothering to lift your hands to wash yourself just yet. It was just the right temperature with the perfect amount of steam to surround you without feeling like you’d choke on it. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, wishing that time could stand still. Showers were a necessity as well as an enjoyment and it felt wrong that time had to continue when you wanted a moment of peace.

Your temporary sanctuary was interrupted by a familiar presence at your back. No, not interrupted. If anything, your sanctuary was more alive. “Sorry if I scared you,” Bucky whispered, slipping his arms around your waist.

“You didn’t,” you whispered back, sinking into him. “Never have, never will.”

“That’s good to know.”

Every chapter of your life since you met Bucky had him written in it. He had been a beautiful stranger who exuded danger and comfort, a heady and contrasting combination. He became a wonderful friend, opening up and trusting you with his secrets and vice versa. It wasn’t long before he became your boyfriend and allowed you to love each other the way you both deserved. He would be your husband one day, and the father of your children if you went down that path.

“Sorry though,” he said, his fingers barely skimming you, but making you shiver just the same. “I should’ve asked before joining you.” 

You smiled, noticing that he didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “You made a mess on your shirt again, didn’t you?”

“Sure did,” he replied. Your man had stained more white shirts than you thought possible. He joked that it was one of the reasons he usually stuck with black. At least he was decent with laundry. “Want me to go?”

You put a hand over his to stop him from letting you go. “Don’t you dare,” you warned, which earned you a warm chuckle in response. You hadn’t initially asked him to join you because you were impatient and wanted to feel the cascading water on your skin.

Now you wanted to feel him all over you.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” he teased.

“Smart man,” you teased back.

Bucky was a man who appreciated showers just like you. When he still accepted missions, he would take the opportunity to self-reflect in a peaceful environment, especially if the mission was a long or tough one. The water helped his muscles relax and reduced his stress. It gave him a sense of well-being. The mood he was in when he joined you often determined whether he would be loving and tender or rough and intense.

You welcomed him either way.

“Feels nice,” he sighed, his breath dancing over your skin before he softly kissed your neck.

“Me or the water?” you sighed.

“Both,” he said, kissing directly over your racing pulse.

As your mouth parted and your head fell back further, a shallow breath escaped. His hands and lips enticed you, igniting a slow spreading fire in your veins. You were the match for each other’s flames and the heat was going to consume you both. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, his hands tracing along your skin like an unspoken promise. “You take my breath away.”

Your heart pounded and you turned your head with a soft smile. The angle was just enough to catch the blue of his eyes and the drops of water dripping from his long hair. He was so beautiful. “You take my breath away, too.”

“Yeah?” His smile didn't just rob you of your breath, it snuffed out all the noise in your mind until all you focused on was him. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back. 

When his lips touched yours, the slow spreading fire erupted into an inferno. His hand slowly slid down your stomach, the other moving up to tease your breasts. “You're so responsive,” he whispered, his thumb grazing a nipple. 

Your breath hitched when the hand moving south dipped between your thighs, a tremor running through your body when he gently moved a finger along your slit. The hand cupping your breast pulled you closer, drawing another gasp when he slowly rolled his hips to tease you when his hard cock brushed against your ass. You wanted him to tear you apart.

“And so wet,” he rumbled, suddenly turning you so that your back was against the wall. His hungry gaze had you choking on your next breath when he brought his hand back to your pussy, slowly rubbing it like he had nowhere else to be. Your essence coated his thick fingers, and he hadn’t pushed them inside you yet.

“Please,” you gasped, lost in his touch and wanting more. 

But Bucky didn't rush. He merely moaned when he leaned in and kissed your lips, tenderly lavishing you and forcing you to be patient. While your hands dug into his arms to hold on for dear life, he touched you as if it were an honor, cherishing every part of you. He was an artist who molded your body like it was his own creation, a masterpiece for him and him alone. The pleasure building within you was overwhelming, the kind that left you trembling and on the verge of breaking to pieces. The cracks filled with parts of him, piecing you back together in a way that was still you and yet forever changed.

“Can we just stay like this?” he murmured, as if he wasn’t setting you ablaze when his thumb circled your clit.

“Yes,” you whispered, wrapping a leg around him. If that was what Bucky wanted, you’d give it to him.

Just like when he asked for your heart.

His tongue traced a water droplet down the columb of your neck before he gently bit down. “Say my name,” he whispered, moving his hand away to replace it with his cock. 

“Bucky,” you breathed, your back arching when he began to push into you. You’d chant it, scream it, let the whole world hear it. Everyone would know who you belonged to and who you chose to be by your side. 

His warm body pressed against yours and your heart squeezed in your chest when he whispered, “I love you.”

You breathed him in, your eyes shining with unexpected tears. “I love you, too.”

He didn’t thrust yet, even when you tightened around him. “Forever mine?” He phrased it as a question, but you were his from the start. 

This man had burrowed so deep into your heart and soul that you would never be able to carve him out. You didn't want to. If you ever dared to put a wall up, he’d either crash through it or bring it down brick by brick, whatever you needed to get back to him. And you would do the same for him, burning the world if you had to if it meant you’d be together.

Moving a hand to his chest to feel his racing heart, you whispered, “Forever yours.”

You loved being his, loved that he was yours, and you would cry his name to the heavens above before the shower was over. 

And under the water and steam, you’d stay wrapped up in each other and enjoy your sanctuary together.

I want this! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mercurial-chuckles]

Strings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader WC: ~400 Warnings: Bucky's house wife kink gets activated | Established Relationship | Fluff | Bucky has thots | Minors DNI | Language | Allusions to smut | Soft dom!Bucky vibes | Very much canon divergent |Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. Banner & Divider made by me. Picture credits to Pinterest. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Hell no! You've gotta be kidding me.

Bucky cursed internally.

He was thirsty when he walked into the kitchen, but one look at you, and he was fucking parched.

You were wearing an apron, mixing something in a giant bowl, your tongue peeking out in concentration. Bucky took in the surroundings on instinct, but only vaguely. Nathaniel, Clint's youngest, was sitting on the kitchen island, talking to you with an adorably serious expression. Peter was at the table nearby, working on his laptop. Bucky could tell you were fully engaged in both the conversation and whatever you were making.

You didn't notice Bucky right away, and he took his time taking you in. Fleeting images of you greeting him like this in your shared home flashed through his mind. You looked absolutely ravishing, and he was flooded with sinful thoughts as he took you in.

When you did look up, you smiled sweetly at him, "Bucky. Come sit with us, I'm making your favorite cookies."

Bucky was miserably turned on, and a pathetic groan slipped out.

Fuck.

He needed to leave. He shouldn't be standing there like this, not with kids around. He turned away abruptly and walked back to his room.

Jesus Christ, this was insane. But again, it was you. And Bucky had absolutely no control when it came to you. He leaned against the wall beside the door, trying to will away his hard-on, but his mind kept feeding him images. He kept thinking about how it would feel to fuck you on the counter, and how you'd look with a swollen belly, carrying his baby. He let out a pained grunt.

Bucky stilled when he heard the door creak open. He hadn't heard you approach, and he blamed it on all the blood rushing south.

"Bucky, what's wrong," you had followed him. Of course, you did. He should've guessed. You worried too much when it came to him.

Then he looked at you, apron still tied at your waist over those damn shorts, and Bucky nearly teetered.

He stared at you, jaw tense, eyes dark, "Don't," he said through clenched teeth, stepping back.

You blinked. "Bucky…did I do something?" you asked, voice soft, almost scared out of your wits.

You should be scared, he thought. Because his control was snapping.

"You did," he growled, taking two steps closer.

"Wha…"

You didn't finish.

Bucky lifted you off the ground and threw you on his shoulder carrying you to the bed. You laughed breathlessly, and let out a strangled moan when he smacked your ass.

"On your knees." He rasped, throwing you onto the bed and straddling your form. His teeth grazed your jaw and nibbled on your earlobe, and you were already thoroughly drenched.

"Strip." He ordered, kissing the corner of your mouth. "But the apron stays."

Hope this quenched your thirst. 🤭

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

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[robbinghisdick]

I'm plagued by the thunderbolts, have some randomly assorted headcanons

Ava, Bob, and Yelena yell cucumber instead of "bless you". They especially like yelling it at John because he finds it dumb and annoying. Bucky and Alexei are confused.

Ava and Yelena end up getting really close. Neither of them have had friends since childhood, so it's nice to connect with one another. They bully John together 💕

John gets his kid for the weekend. While he was a distracted father, he still knows HOW to take care of a kid. None of the others besides Alexei do and he can't believe how incompetent they are. Alexei likes John's kid because toddlers are easy to impress lmao.

You know the "life changing field trip with Zuko" thing from ATLA? Life changing field trip with Bucky. One way or another, Bucky either comes to an understanding or gets closer to the others on the team. Bob was thoroughly startled to find out that Bucky wasn't scary, just socially awkward

No one but John and Bucky knows how to cook. They don't even cook WELL, just passable. How everyone else has made it this far on take out and frozen meals is beyond them. Ava and Yelena go "how hard can it be?" And now they're yelling at Alexei to follow the recipe as he insists that he knows better and this will taste WAY better. Bob is quietly ordering pizza.

If things turn into a genuine screaming match on the team, Bob going "can we please calm down?" Makes everyone very bitterly simmer down because they know this a bit triggering for Bob

In general, I think they start to learn one anothers triggers and start being more mindful of them. Barely even consciously, but they've all felt that void inside them and don't like being the reason someone else feels it again.

Everyday Bob is blown away by what's happening around him and what's happened to these people. Like, while Bob had a rough life, it was a "normal" kind of rough. No experimentation, no super powers, no government plots. Just a normal guy dealt a terrible deck in life. He's spent the vast majority of his life with no powers.

Ava, Yelena and Bob decide to hang out one day as normal people. They are very bad at this and they come home with torn clothes and a cat.

I'll stop yapping for now, I just love them

(Edit: I yapped more)