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buckyseternaldoll · 2 months ago

Note

Ok ok, this is my first ever author request and since yours was the first Bucky fic I’ve ever read, this just felt right! Also buckle in, this is long and I’m sorry in advance 😩

Alright hear me out, Avenger wedding lol I’ve had the song “I can’t help falling in love” stuck in my head all morning. Yes Elvis sang it originally but I have the Haley Reinhardt version playing through my brain. (I promise I’m going somewhere with this)

ANYWAYS! I’m imagining a reader who works with the Avengers but not an actual Avenger. Maybe she works in intelligence or research, sorry I’m not particularly creative when it comes to creating a character profile. Idk who’s getting married, maybe Natasha and Bruce bc I always thought they were adorable but go crazy lol

Now, they ask reader to sing a song at their wedding because omg why wouldn’t you want your bestie to do that for you? (In my imagination I’d totally be besties with Natasha if I were an Avenger lol)

Anyways, reader sings this song and of course she and Bucky have secretly been pining over each other forever because #idiotsinlove but in my brain Bucky is somewhat quiet, dark, pensive (broody) and honestly a little intimidating, so reader hasn’t had the courage to talk to him in any depth about their feelings. Think longing and heated glances in the hallways, small but lingering accidental touches. I am corny 🙃

Now OF COURSE at the wedding she’s actually singing this song to Bucky, who is in turn making absolutely *smoldering* eye contact💀

He’s experiencing all the feels and it’s this intense and beautiful moment that leads him to later confront reader and then of course fireworks ensue. It doesn’t matter to me if the fireworks are in the form of an emotional and sexually tense conversation, fluff or smut, whatever you feel good writing.

I know in real life this totally gives main character energy, like singing a love song to your wannabe boyfriend at your besties wedding but it’s fiction and I can do what I want.

Also, I feel like this is so cliché, again I am not creative this way so I humbly request your talents to help make this little vision come to life😂

Thank you and I love your writing and if you don’t want to do this I totally understand! 💚💚🍀

Ooof, yes yes YES to this! It’s a quick one, but I hope it lines up with your vision!

can't help.

Summary: You were just supposed to sing at your best friend’s wedding. Not confess your feelings to the brooding super soldier with your eyes and a love song.

Disclaimer: slow burn, emotional tension, mutual pining, implied smut, soft confession, light teasing, wedding setting

The hum of your monitors was the only sound in the room—aside from the quiet clack of keys as your fingers danced across the keyboard, navigating the encrypted maze of a burner phone retrieved during last week’s mission. You didn’t bother looking up when you heard someone step inside.

“You’re early,” you said absently. “I just started slicing through the outer layer. Gonna take a while.”

A pause.

Then his voice—low, almost amused. “Didn’t say anything.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the familiar figure leaning against the wall. Bucky Barnes, arms crossed, eyes pinned on you like he was watching something delicate unravel. Not unusual—he did this a lot. Lurking. Lingering. Speaking only when necessary.

“Is this even Hydra?” you asked, holding the device up.

“Looks like it,” he muttered. “Feels like it.”

You hummed in agreement and went back to work. “No decryption key?”

“Thought you liked a challenge.”

You smiled despite yourself. “So you do listen.”

You caught a flicker in his eyes—almost like a smile—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

And then—

The door burst open.

“There you are,” Natasha Romanoff announced as she strode in, crimson hair swaying behind her. “Both of you. Perfect.”

You blinked up at her. “We’re working.”

“You’ll keep working,” she said breezily. “But first—we need to discuss your setlist.”

Your fingers stilled. “My what?”

Nat crossed her arms. “You’re singing at my wedding.”

Your brain lagged several seconds behind the words. “Nat—no. No, I—what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act surprised. You’ve murdered that song—Can't Help Falling in Love—at karaoke more times than I can count. I want it for the ceremony. Haley Reinhart version. Obviously.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing coherent came out.

Bucky was silent beside you. As usual.

“Nobody knows about that,” you said finally. “Only you.”

“Exactly,” Nat smirked. “That’s why I’m asking. No one else can sing it the way you do. You’re doing it. It’s decided.”

“Natasha—”

“You promised!” she sang as she started backing toward the door. “Don’t make me put it in writing.”

You groaned softly and slumped back into your seat.

“Oh,” she added, peeking back in dramatically. “Bucky? You’re one of Bruce’s groomsmen, remember?”

His brows twitched. “I wasn’t sure if—”

“Don’t even try it. Suit up. Smile. Dance, maybe. Live a little.”

Then she was gone.

The silence returned.

You stared at the screen, unable to focus, heat creeping up the back of your neck.

That’s when you felt him still watching you.

Then quietly—

“You should do it. Sing.”

You turned to him, blinking. “Why?”

He paused for half a second.

“Think Sam’s looking for me.”

And with that, he turned and slipped out of the room, footsteps fading down the hallway.

—

(Bucky’s POV)

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because the thought of her voice echoing through that garden-lit hall—dressed in something soft and light, bathed in golden glow—was too much to keep to himself.

He remembered the night he first heard her humming.

Empty tech wing. Past midnight. She thought she was alone.

She wasn’t.

He stood in the shadow of the server racks, listening to that melody spill from her lips like it had always belonged there. Not perfect. Not polished. Just real—a raw, honest sound that stayed with him long after.

And now he’d get to hear her sing for real.

God help him.

(End of POV)

—

The Nerd Nest wasn’t much to look at—just one corner of the tech wing you’d gradually claimed with enough monitors, tangled wires, and caffeinated chaos to make Tony Stark roll his eyes and mutter something about “gremlin territory.” But it was yours. A space where the rest of the world—the noise, the pressure, the people—couldn’t reach you unless you let them.

Today, it was just you, your half-finished AI prototype, and your nerves. Your fingers danced across the keyboard, tuning the neural relay script—light, fast, in rhythm.

And without thinking, you hummed.

“Wise men say… only fools rush in…”

You didn’t get far. You sang a few more notes before realizing what you were doing, and instantly scrunched your face in embarrassment.

“God,” you muttered. “What are you doing…”

You turned in your chair, reaching for your water bottle—and practically jumped out of your skin.

“Holy f—!”

Bucky was there.

Not across the room. Not by the wall.

Right behind you.

Close enough that you could feel the quiet press of his presence at your back. Close enough that the heat from his body prickled against your skin like static.

You turned slowly, pulse spiking—because he was just unfair like that. All sculpted silence and midnight stares. And now he was too close for your heart to pretend it wasn’t affected.

You hated how often he left you breathless by doing absolutely nothing at all.

“Jesus, Barnes,” you gasped, gripping the arm of your chair. “You can’t just—are you training to be a ghost?”

He didn’t answer. Not verbally.

Instead, he stepped closer. Not to move past you—but to linger. To hover.

He reached for something on your desk, but his fingers trailed near yours first—light, deliberate. Not accidental. Not anymore.

He didn’t look at you when he did it. But he knew. And you felt it everywhere.

“Door was open.”

His voice was low. Barely an excuse. Definitely not an apology.

You squinted at him. “Still—some warning would be nice.”

He didn’t answer. Just watched you for a second too long. Long enough that your skin prickled under the weight of it.

Then—

“You hum when you work.”

Your stomach flipped. Shit.

“I—burner phone,” you blurted, voice cracking like your dignity. “Right. Hang on.”

You spun toward your desk so fast you nearly knocked your water bottle off the edge.

You reached for the device, your fingertips brushing against his palm as he reached too. Neither of you pulled away right away.

His gloved flesh fingers brushed yours when he took it—just briefly, but enough to make your breath hitch.

He glanced down.

Then up.

“This your number?”

His knuckles grazed yours as he handed it back. Not enough to count as a touch, but too much to ignore.

Your stomach dropped. “What—no! That’s my phone. Shit. Sorry.” You snatched it back and shoved the right device toward him. “This is the burner.”

He took it silently.

“Subtle,” he said after a pause.

Your face burned. “I’m not flirting with you.”

His expression didn’t change. “Didn’t say you were.”

You stared, unsure if he was mocking you or… something else.

You hated how unreadable he was. Hated how it made your chest flutter anyway. He could look at you like that—eyes stormy and still—and you’d forget how to breathe.

—

The door slid open again. “Why does nobody in this building knock?” you groaned.

Natasha stepped in, Bruce right behind her.

She clocked the tension in the room instantly. Her gaze flicked between you and Bucky, and a slow grin curled at her lips.

“Barnes, you’ve been hanging around in here a lot lately. Didn’t know you were into AI code and—karaoke?”

Bucky shifted behind you—closer than before.

You felt it first in the air—how it changed.

Then his hand grazed your back. Just barely. Just enough to make your breath catch.

He didn’t move away.

Instead, his fingers lingered… brushing down the curve of your spine in a single, featherlight stroke.

Then, like it never happened, his hand was gone.

You groaned. “Natasha—please.”

You could feel heat rushing to your face, and not just from embarrassment. He was still standing too close behind you.

Bucky didn’t say a word. But you felt it—his gaze. Heavy. Unwavering.

Bruce, bless him, tried to cut the tension. “We heard humming from the hall. It sounded… really good.”

You choked out a laugh. “Guess I need to work on soundproofing the Nest.”

Natasha tilted her head toward Bucky, sharp as ever. “Didn’t you say you weren’t into slow songs?”

His response came low. Cool.

“Didn’t say anything.”

But he glanced at you. Just for a second.

Like the words were a lie he needed to swallow fast.

Bruce raised a brow. “You okay, man?”

“Fine.”

Natasha nudged him with her elbow, playful but just enough to provoke. “You showing up to rehearsal later, groomsman?”

“I’ll be there.”

Short. Unsmiling. End of conversation.

Nat threw you a wink on her way out. “Don’t let him scare you. He only bites when you ask.”

You wanted to melt through the floor.

Bucky stood still for a moment longer, unreadable. Then he left without another word.

You sat back, heart pounding, and realized:

You really needed to stop humming around him.

—

It was later that evening, and you found yourself curled up in one of the compound lounges with Natasha, tucked under a throw blanket that smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and too much time near Clint’s socks. She’d brought tea—hers black, yours with extra honey—and despite the comforting warmth of the cup in your hands, your stomach was still tight.

Nat watched you for a while without saying anything, her green eyes too sharp to be fooled.

“You’re spiraling,” she said finally, tone light.

You sighed and leaned your head back against the couch. “I don’t get it. I’ve presented mission briefs in front of generals. I’ve walked agents through crisis comms in real-time. Why does singing one song feel like I’m about to disarm a live bomb?”

She grinned. “Because singing is personal. You can’t hide behind data when your voice cracks on a love lyric.”

“Wow. Thanks for that horrifying visual.”

She laughed softly. “You’ll be fine. It’s not even a big crowd.”

You peeked at her over your mug. “No?”

Nat shook her head. “Intimate. Friends, family, the team. That’s it. There’s no big altar or spotlight. Just a little raised platform Bruce is putting together in the ceremony hall—they’re decorating it like a garden. Might still feel stuffy with just you up there."

You groaned and buried your face in the blanket.

“Maybe I should fake laryngitis.”

“Don’t tempt me to throat-punch you.”

You giggled under your breath, and for a few seconds, the tension eased.

Then Nat tilted her head. “Wanna talk about something else?”

You glanced at her.

She smirked. “Boys, maybe?”

Your face went hot instantly. “There’s… no one.”

“Mm-hm.”

You sipped your tea too quickly and burned your tongue. “Seriously.”

She didn’t push. Didn’t say a word.

But the way she looked at you, it was clear she knew. Of course she did.

All those times Bucky lingered in doorways when you spoke. The way he stood closer to you than anyone else. That odd, unreadable tension in his jaw when someone else made you laugh.

“Well,” she said casually, standing up and brushing crumbs off her leggings. “Whoever it is… you’ve got my luck.”

You blinked. “You’re not gonna guess?”

“Already guessed.” Her smirk deepened. “But I won’t spoil the fun.”

She grabbed her tea and headed for the door, pausing just before leaving.

“Just make sure you catch the bouquet, yeah?”

You groaned. “Natasha—”

“What? Continuous luck. I don’t make the rules.”

And with that, she was gone.

Leaving you on the couch, blushing into your tea, and not thinking about Bucky Barnes at all.

Not. At. All.

—

The ceremony hall had been transformed into something soft and surreal—stone walls veiled in blooming vines, long white drapes fluttering gently from the ceiling beams, and golden fairy lights woven into the greenery above. It felt more like stepping into a secret garden than a wedding.

Eighty guests. Maybe a few more. But it still felt like too many.

In a small prep room tucked behind the main hall, you stood in front of a tall mirror, trying to breathe. The space was barely large enough for the dress rack and makeup table, but it was quiet. Private. Wanda had helped with your hair—an elegant twist pinned at the back, with a few curled strands left loose to frame your face. You barely recognized your reflection.

Your dress was soft blue, simple but perfectly fitted. Not revealing, not loud. Just… you. Or maybe a version of you from someone’s daydream.

You looked beautiful.

And you felt like you were about to pass out.

You mumbled the opening lyrics under your breath, pacing a little as you tried to calm your nerves.

“Wise men say… only fools rush in…”

Your voice wavered. Your hands trembled.

A soft pat on your shoulder made you flinch.

You turned—and stopped breathing for a second.

Bucky stood there. Dressed in a dark suit, clean and crisp, collar brushing against the edge of his jaw. His expression unreadable. Steady. His eyes—something else entirely.

He didn’t speak. Just reached into his jacket pocket and held out something small in his palm. As you reached for it, his fingertips brushed your palm—warm, calloused, grounding. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you.

You took it carefully. A coin? No—heavier than that. It looked worn at the edges, an old challenge token or medallion, with a compass etched on one side and faded Cyrillic on the other.

“I keep it when I need to stay steady,” he said, voice low. “Helps.”

You stared at the token, then up at him—wanting to ask why, or thank him, or say something. But the words stuck. His eyes had that quiet pull again, steady and deep. And you… you were one stupid glance away from telling him everything.

“You’ll be fine,” he added, then turned and walked away before you could get a single word out.

You looked down at the token again, heart still pounding. You swore his touch still lingered—like his hand had left a quiet imprint on your skin.

You slipped it into your palm, curled your fingers around it, and walked toward the doorway when they called your name.

—

The crowd hushed as you stepped onto the low platform.

You adjusted the mic. Exhaled slowly.

Bucky stood near the back. Tucked into shadow but somehow impossible to miss. His gaze found you instantly.

And held.

You squeezed the token in your palm—and sang.

Wise men say only fools rush in

Your voice trembled, breath barely catching the note. The melody felt fragile, like paper floating through still air. But your eyes found him again—blue, steady, burning.

But I can’t help falling in love with you.

He didn’t blink. You didn’t either. There were about eighty people in the room, but it might as well have been just him.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

Your throat tightened. You could feel the hitch in your chest—the ache of words you’d never dared to say aloud. He tilted his head slightly, like he could hear the cry in your voice.

If I can’t help falling in love with you.

A breath. A heartbeat. You swore your knees wobbled under the weight of that line. But he never looked away. His jaw clenched, subtle and sharp, like the sound was pulling him apart.

Oh, like a river flows, surely to the sea

You felt your voice grow stronger. The line came easier now, like it had always been meant for him. Meant for this moment.

Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be

You could swear he swallowed hard—his expression unreadable, but his eyes screaming. You imagined what it would feel like to finally touch him without hesitation. Without hiding.

Woah, take my hand,

Your voice dipped low, husky and real. You weren’t sure you could breathe.

Take my whole life, too

He leaned forward ever so slightly. Not enough to draw attention—just enough to make your heart rattle like glass inside your ribs.

For I can't help falling in love with you

Your vision blurred for a second. You didn’t even realize your lashes had gone wet. The coin in your palm grounded you—his coin. You clung to it as if it could carry the truth you couldn’t say.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

You kept singing, voice floating like a confession in slow motion. Your gaze stayed locked on him, and for a moment, you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat from across the room.

Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be

The tiniest twitch in his lip—like he almost smiled. Almost. The aching softness of it nearly undid you.

Take my hand

You meant it. God, you meant it. If he walked up now and took it, you wouldn’t care who saw. Wouldn’t care that it was your best friend’s wedding. That lyric was yours—and his.

Take my whole life too

If he stepped forward now, you might’ve crumbled in front of everyone.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

You held the note a moment longer. Felt it in your chest. Your fingertips. Your soul.

For I can’t help falling in love with you.

The final note left your lips like a vow wrapped in velvet.

And then—silence.

Not from within.

From him.

Still watching. Still holding you there with his eyes.

—

You stood there, trembling. The token still clenched in your palm.

Bucky hadn’t moved. Not a muscle. His gaze still held yours.

You didn’t know what you’d just done.

But you knew exactly who you’d done it for.

—

You didn’t see him again.

The second you stepped off that tiny platform, Bucky Barnes had vanished like smoke.

People surrounded you immediately—Natasha and Wanda, Sam with his teasing smirk, a few guests you vaguely recognized from earlier missions or boardroom briefings.

“You killed it.”

“I didn’t know you could sing like that.”

“God, I got chills.”

You smiled. Thanked them. Laughed softly at the compliments. But your eyes kept scanning. Searching.

Nowhere in sight.

Not near the drinks. Not by the back row. Not by Natasha.

Gone.

But that look he gave you during the song—blue flame, unblinking, something wordless and raw—was burned into your mind. You couldn’t stop replaying it. Couldn’t shake the phantom pull of it, like gravity still clinging to your bones even when the source was gone.

Eventually, the buzz around you grew too loud. Your own heartbeat louder still. You mumbled an excuse—needed air, needed space, needed to think.

You slipped outside.

—

The garden was quiet. String lights drifted overhead like suspended stars, their glow soft against the trimmed hedges and pale stone paths. You followed the curve of a walkway until it brought you to a small koi pond near the edge of the property.

You exhaled slowly, staring into the water.

It was crystal clear—so clear you could see the koi swimming just beneath the surface, orange and gold scales rippling like stained glass.

You didn’t hear the footsteps until he was already close.

“Can I talk to you?”

You startled. Turned.

Bucky stood at a respectful distance, hands relaxed at his sides, voice low. Different now. Softer.

Of course it was him. The man who could level you with a glance. The one you were supposed to avoid wanting—and failed miserably.

You nodded.

You didn’t speak as you led him back through the quiet side corridor, winding past the ceremony hall until you reached the prep room again—the same one tucked just behind the stage. It was empty. Dim. The door clicked softly shut behind you—

And then he locked it.

Your pulse kicked.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you. His gaze dropped to your chest—no lower, just where your hand was clutching something tight.

The token.

“You’re shaking,” he said. His voice was velvet now. “Your heart’s racing.” He reached for your hand slowly, his thumb grazing the inside of your wrist as if reading your pulse through touch alone.

“I know,” you whispered.

He took a slow step forward. Then another.

“You’re not scared of me,” he said. Not a question.

“No.”

“Then why are you trembling?”

You couldn’t answer. Because how do you explain this kind of gravity?

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small foil-wrapped candy, and handed it to you without a word. His fingers brushed yours again—intentional this time. The contact was gentle, but it sparked down your spine like a live wire.

You blinked. “What is this?”

“Sugar. Helps. Just… try it.”

You unwrapped it with shaking fingers. Pressed it to your tongue. Cherry.

“Did you sing that song for me?” he asked, finally.

You froze.

“I—I sang it for the wedding.”

You avoided his gaze.

“Don’t lie,” he said softly.

You looked up.

He wasn’t cold. He wasn’t teasing.

Just… sure.

“I heard your heartbeat when I left you the coin,” he murmured. “It was calm. But when I wasn’t where you expected me to be—”

“It spiked.”

“You sighed when you couldn’t find me.”

“You looked for me through the whole room.”

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

“You think I don’t notice the way you named your AI project JBB?” he added gently. “I cracked your file tree once. Saw your debug comments. All tagged ‘//buckbytes’.”

Your throat went dry. You blinked—hard.

He’d seen that? The little scraps of you scattered across cold code and digital logic. Things you never meant anyone to notice. Especially not him.

“I couldn’t help it,” you whispered, barely breathing. “You’re just… always there. Even when you’re not.”

You looked down, fingers knotting at your sides. “You’re broody and intense and sometimes you scare people, but you don’t scare me.”

A beat of silence.

When you looked up, his eyes had changed—no longer guarded, no longer hiding. Just… soft.

Like he’d been waiting forever to be seen like that.

“I always feel safe when you’re near,” you added. “You never look at me like I’m too much. Or in the way.”

He stepped closer.

“I watch you because I see how much you carry,” he said, voice nearly a whisper now. “You do ten things at once and still think it’s not enough. You take care of everything. Everyone. You make the team better.”

You felt your eyes sting. You looked away.

“You’re brilliant,” he murmured. “Too brilliant. And I’m too old. Too haunted. I don’t deserve someone like you.”

Your breath caught.

“You’re light,” he said, “and I’ve only ever lived in shadow.”

Then—

Your lips crashed into his.

Not delicate. Not rehearsed.

But yours.

He froze for half a second—caught off guard. Like he hadn’t expected you to be the one to close the space.

And then—he melted.

A low sound left him, one you felt more than heard. His hands gripped you tighter, pulling you in like he’d been holding back for months and finally had permission to fall. You could feel it now—the quiet thunder of his heart pounding beneath his shirt. Fast. Unsteady.

You kissed him like you’d been waiting your whole life for this exact beat in time. And from the way he kissed you back—hungry but reverent—so had he.

It wasn’t careful.

It wasn’t clean.

But it was real. Overdue. The kind of collision that had been building for months, maybe longer—carved out in every sideways glance, every stolen breath, every time you left a room and felt his gaze burn between your shoulder blades.

Bucky reached for you slowly, as if he still wasn’t convinced you were really standing there. One hand cradled your jaw, the other settling at the curve of your neck. His touch was reverent—light but grounding. His thumbs stroked across your skin like he was memorizing the texture of a miracle.

His breath ghosted across your lips.

“I’ve imagined this,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint. “So many damn times.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Your heart thudded so hard it echoed in your ears. Your body leaned toward his instinctively, as if it already knew what he wasn’t saying.

“I thought maybe… if I ignored it long enough, it’d fade,” he continued, each word quieter than the last. “But it didn’t. It just dug in deeper. You—you’re always there. Even when I’m not looking.”

His forehead brushed against yours. The gesture was tentative, but intimate—anchored in want, steeped in something terrifyingly close to worship.

“And then you sang that song,” he whispered. “And I knew I was fucked.”

That broke your stillness. A breathy laugh escaped you—too full of nerves, too full of feeling. You slid your fingers beneath the edge of his vest, pressing your palms to his chest like you needed proof he was actually standing there. That he was real. That he wanted you too.

“I meant it,” you said softly. “Every word.”

Bucky didn’t answer with words this time.

He kissed you.

Not in the way you expected—quick or rough or hungry—but with aching patience. His lips brushed yours first like a question. When you leaned in, he answered it. Fully. Deeply. Like he was starving and this was the only thing that could save him.

Your hands curled around his shoulders, dragging him closer as if the heat in your chest would eat you alive if you didn’t.

He tasted like something you’d craved before you even knew it had a name. Like longing turned real. Like gravity, finally.

And God, the way he touched you—

His hands didn’t wander. They held. Steady. Secure. Like you were something precious. His thumbs stroked your cheekbones, and when you moaned softly into his mouth, he responded with a quiet, desperate sound of his own—one that made your knees almost buckle.

You broke away just slightly, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. You didn’t even think—just let your teeth find the curve of his earlobe, tugging gently. The sharp intake of breath he gave you in return made your core tighten.

“You know,” you murmured, smirking against his skin, “they say the nerds are the dangerous ones in bed.”

His breath caught. You felt the way his hands gripped you tighter, like he couldn’t help it anymore.

“God help me,” he rasped, mouth at your temple, “I believe that.”

You kissed again. Slower this time. Deeper. Like both of you had finally stepped out of the silence and into something you weren’t afraid of anymore.

And maybe the door stayed locked a little longer.

Maybe the coin he gave you never left your hand.

And maybe the sun was still up outside—burning past the garden-themed walls of a borrowed celebration.

But in his arms, it felt like everything had gone still. Like time had folded into itself.

Like the moment he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

And maybe—just maybe—you’d been waiting for it too.

#by elle.ᐟ #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #elle's answering asks #requested fic by elle #tysm for the request! 💜#avengers fanfic

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