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barnesandwilsons · 1 month ago

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Operation: Go Hammy

a/n: since i got sm love on the first part (i hope you guys enjoyed) genuinely hated how it started but i think it gets better as it progresses.. NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL (i'll do it later i guess)

this is a CONTINUATION from part 1 👇

part 1: Maybe, Just Maybe

pairing: bucky x reader

wc: around 5k

warnings: cutie bob, bucky being sweet, reader being awkward for a TEENSY bit, ava being mentioned, walker wanting pizza rolls, alpine

summary: after spending a while with the thunderbolts new avengers, you begin to realize your feelings for someone.

The kitchen is dimly lit, and through the windows, the dreary New York sky bleeds in — all gray clouds and soft drizzle, like the city itself can feel how you feel.

Bucky’s looking at the pantry, his back turned, searching for anything that looks easy to make. As you walk fully into the kitchen, you can see the infamous peanut butter sandwich. Bucky feels your presence as he turns to you, “How bout I make you some pasta?”

You tear your eyes away from the sandwich, looking up at his blue eyes. They’re kind. He’s being patient with you – no one ever has.

You nod. “Pasta sounds great.” A small smile pulls from him as he grabs a box of little pasta shells, moving back to the stove as he starts to boil the water. A few minutes later, he gets impatient and pours the pasta in the boiling water.

“I’m not really the best cook,” He stated, looking over his shoulder. “But, pasta," He says, shaking the box of little shells, "is something very easy and essential in life."

You lean against the counter watching him work, and smirk faintly at his words. “Yeah back in Romania, I swear I ate pasta around 50 times in a month.”

He pauses at your words. His head tilts slightly, not fully looking at you but enough to demonstrate his shock.

“Romania?” He repeats, now fully turning to you.

You nod, suddenly feeling in the spotlight for some reason. “Yeah. It’s where I went after…everything. It was quiet and had cheap food. Practically heaven.”

He hums in understandment.

“I was in Romania for a while too,” He says, almost like he’s reminiscing about a time of peace in his life, “After Hydra.”

You glance down at your hands, “Small world.”

“Yeah.”

The pasta bubbles behind him, immediately breaking his focus on you. He turns back to stir it, breaking the moment softly. Then you hear a new voice, “I smell food!”

Bob pops up to the kitchen. Oh sweet Bob. You’ve probably seen him around like twice ever since you got here. Apparently he tried to destroy the world, but you don’t believe it.

Bucky immediately sighs, “Go away, Bob.”

Bob just smiles. “I finally come out of my room and this is what greets me. Rude.”

You let out a small laugh before you can stop yourself.

Bob points at you triumphantly, like he just won a rare award. “Ah-ha! I made her laugh. I am so staying.”

“Bob,” Bucky warns slightly, he uses his metal arm to grab some hot water and flings it at Bob. Bob yelps, and side steps so he can avoid it.

“Okay, so, I think that's my cue to leave,” Bob jokes, already backing out of the kitchen, “Truly nice officially meeting you, Mystery Girl.”

“Bob!” Bucky warns, now focused on stirring the pasta because it’s almost done.

“Bye, Bob.” You smile and wave as he leaves.

“Sorry about him.” Bucky apologizes, feeling the need to.

“He’s great, dont worry about it.”

Bucky glances back at you, “Yeah don't tell him that.”

You grin, honestly now you understand why Yelena likes it here. She works with hot idiots. Bucky drains out the pasta, and starts to look for the pasta sauce. You set eyes on it as you walk by, grabbing the jar and opening it with a soft pop before handing it to him without a word.

He pauses just a second too long as he takes it from you, like he isn’t used to people giving him things without asking. “Thanks,” he says, his eyes briefly locking with yours.

“Don’t mention it.”

Silence falls against the both of you. He quickly adds the sauce and mixes it in the pasta. And before the silence gets the chance to linger, Yelena bursts in, sniffing the air.

“Do I smell Mac & Cheese?”

“No, Lena,” You clarify as you turn quickly, you forgot this girl's obsession with the kids meal, “Pasta.”

“Pasta?” She repeats, almost offended, “Now c'mon, that's just depressed mac & cheese without the cheese.”

Bucky almost groans. He’s clearly trying to get to know you, while the rest of the team is almost hell-bent on making that impossible. “It’s pasta. With Marinara Sauce.”

“Well add cheese,” Yelena adds and turns back to you, giving you a once-over, “Where the hell did you get those clothes?”

You would get flustered, but now is definitely not the time for that. “Bucky loaned them to me. Since all my shit is in the washer.”

Yelena gives you a weird look. Yeah right.

Finally, Bucky is done with stirring the damn pasta. Trying to keep some common decency, he turns to her. “Would you want a plate?”

Almost forgetting he was there, Yelena turns away from you and walks to the pasta and almost frowns. “Yeah, gimme one sec.” She then opens the top cabinet, grabs Sriracha sauce and squirts it on the pasta.

“Sooo much better,” she smirks, clearly feeling proud of herself and looks at Bucky, “Go on and try it, you’ll thank me later.” She quickly plates the food, waving you over and gives you the plate.

You smile at the plate, give Bucky a quick glance and say a quick thanks.

You all eat at the island counter, plates in front of you, a small conversation between a few bites. Well, Yelena is basically the only one speaking, talking with pride as she ranks the different types of fights she’s been in. You laugh more than you expect to, easily forgetting the mission beforehand.

But eventually, her phone starts to buzz. One look at it and she softly groans.

“Ugh, this girl,” Yelena complains, stuffing the last of her pasta in her mouth, picking up her phone and sending a quick text back. “Alright guys, I’m out to help Kate Bishop.”

Bucky and You share a confused look. Who?

Not caring to clarify, she grabs her plate, puts it in the sink, and pats both of your heads as a goodbye.

You stare at the plate in the sink, and the other two on the counter. You start gathering them and heading to the sink to wash them.

Bucky stares at you and gets up following you to the sink, “I got it.”

“You cooked,” You stated, with a wave of your hand, “Least I can do.”

He scoffs as he gently wraps his hand around your wrist– a way to get you to stop, not even a firm grip, a soft, gentle one just like his soul.

“I said I got it,” He says softly, “Just sit down somewhere.”

Don't gotta tell me twice.

You sit on the counter next to the sink. “So what’s your story?

He starts to wash the dishes, not even being fazed by the question. “Surprised you don’t know.”

“Oh I do, Just wanna hear it from a firsthand account.” You shrug. If you’re gonna be living here, you might as well get to know your coworkers.

“To start, I’m around 100 years old,” He pauses for your reaction.

You tilt your head, “Honestly, you peg me for a much older guy.”

“Yeah, well, I started to use sunscreen.” He deadpans, washing off the soap from Yelena’s plate.

“Must be some type of sunscreen.”

“Mhm.”

He starts again, “I got drafted, I fell off a train and lost an arm.” He stops and slightly raises his metal arm to the best of his ability since he was holding a dish. “Hydra found me and well, I’m guessing you know the rest.”

You nod, “That’s tragic. Sorry for bringing it up.”

“Nah, You get used to it.”

You feel bad. After everything this man has been through, he’s still kicking? It almost makes you feel embarrassed that you feel this way about yourself.

Reminder; try to be more positive.

You hop down from the counter, brushing off his hoodie. “Thanks for dinner, Bucky.”

He nods. “Anytime.”

You start to walk off, but you pause once you near the exit, “Any chance I can still wear your clothes for the time-being?”

“Yeah, just keep ‘em if you want. They look better on you anyway.” He says, while he’s still focused on the dishes.

You’re just lucky your knees don’t give out right then and there.

It’s been 2 weeks since Bucky made you dinner.

A lot has happened in those 14 days.

Bucky lent you another set of clothes, until eventually, you realized Yelena has to take you shopping, or you’ll end up stealing the rest of this poor man’s closet. He also lent you his old, worn-in copy of The Hobbit after you mentioned wanting to pick up new hobbies.

It has a few annotations with his thoughts scribbled in the margins, a couple of question marks and a few rare sightings of his dry comments – but you don’t mind. You think it’s cute actually.

You also have seen Bob more ever since that one day – He’s pretty cool. A bit awkward. But cool.

He always offers to help when it comes to laundry, dishes or even basic cooking. You can tell he’s still struggling to figure out where he fits in. Maybe once you find yourself, you can help him.

Alexei was pretty loud, but you can tell it was from a place of love – or admiration. Or whatever else he has going on in that big head of his. When he’s not bragging about his days about being Russia’s very own ‘Captain ‘Merica’, he’s either helping Bob doing random shit, or finding new ways to annoy Yelena.

And Ava? You’ve talked to her a few times now. She’s cool too — but her powers? Yeah, straight-up terrifying. You’re glad she’s on your side.

So yeah, a lot has happened in the past 2 weeks.

Since you decided to take a tour of the Tower, you decided that the gym is your favorite place. So now, here you were listening to music as you work out. As you finish up, you decide to check your phone and see a couple of mixed texts from the “New Avengerz” GC.

Lena: 911

Ava: ?

Walker: what?

Lena: cat in the kitchen???

You frown, looking at your phone confused.

Who let a cat in the Tower?

And when can you meet it?

You’re about to tuck your phone back into your pocket, as you’re getting ready to return back to your room and hit the shower.

Yelena texts again, “nvm false alarm, it’s bucees cat.”

You freeze. Bucky? A cat person?

You don’t mean to judge a person by their cover, but you never expected James Buchanan Barnes to like cats.

A few hours later, your wish came true.

As you entered the kitchen, after Bob was done washing the dishes, you spotted a cute white fluffy cat.

Oh My God.

“She’s beautiful,” You mutter, only to yourself. No wonder Bucky has her, a beautiful cat for a beautiful soul.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was looking for the cat.

Again.

For the 3rd time today. He needs to read a book on how to get a cat to behave properly. Thankfully, he made it to the kitchen entryway, as he saw you approach the cat.

You kneel slowly, trying not to scare it. Her beady eyes stare you down, tail flicking lazily behind her, like she’s sizing you up. Judging. Calculating. You pray that she doesn’t bite you.

“Hi, cutey.”

Bucky was just watching you, unafraid to ruin the moment, but he did anyway as he cleared his throat, “She’s harmless. Just has a flair for the dramatics.”

You glance up at him, lips almost pulling to a smile. “Wonder where she gets it from,” You extend a hand to her, as she sniffs it slightly. She nudges her head on your hand.

Yeah, you might just have to take this ball of joy away from Bucky.

You shift, sitting cross-legged as she climbs into your lap. Gently, you stroke her soft fur, completely in love. Bucky steps closer, settling beside you on the floor.

Who would've thought? Bucky Barnes, ex-assassin, with his heart almost melting at the sight of you with his cat?

Steve Rogers is practically rolling in his grave right now.

“She’s not like this with most people.” Bucky mentions, out of the blue, “Her name’s Alpine, by the way.”

You scrunch your nose at that adorable name. “She's perfect. I love her.”

“She's got good taste.” Bucky jokes, even softer now. Maybe, Bucky might have to thank his therapist for telling him to get a pet.

Alpine purrs. Your heart absolutely flips. Maybe you’re thinking about getting all the cats in the world. With how big this tower is, that seems like a great idea anyways.

You stay like that for a while, all three of you guys, unbothered.

Until your phone starts ringing.

You glance at Bucky sheepishly and gently hand Alpine back to him. “Bye, Alpine. Lovely meeting you,” you murmur, getting up to take the call as you walk away.

2 months have passed since you first got to the Avengers tower.

You slowly feel yourself being a part of this team. It took a while, but once you realized that this group was basically a bunch of damaged individuals, it got easier.

Ironically though, the one person you did hit it off with at first–Bucky, has become a little... awkward. Not in a bad way. Bucky didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that you started to realize that he was really hot. Like distractingly hot.

But you’ll deal with that later.

For now, you and Ava had finally made it back from your tiring, 2 week mission, and all your mind is set up on is sleeping on your own bed. Nothing else even matters. Not even bothering to charge your phone, you make it into your room, shower, and then jump on that bed.

You were asleep in minutes.

The next morning; you woke up to your alarm, almost groaning at the fact you had to get up soon. Today was the day.

Not like the day—as in your wedding, but still, it was the day AKA your turn to go grocery shopping for the team. The Thunderbolts have recently started a chore wheel, like who's gonna take out the trash this week? Or who’s gonna attempt to do laundry next week? Interesting shit.

It might sound dramatic, but you hated doing mundane tasks. Like grocery shopping? Why can’t someone else do it?

Funny thing is, it was your turn to go grocery shopping a few weeks back, but you ultimately got out of it. You sighed, chanting to yourself to get up. Bite the bullet. One step at a time.

Perhaps even treat yourself to the shawarma spot before? Yeah. Definitely sounds better when you add that part.

You turned off your alarm, muttering, ‘five more minutes’.

You woke up 2 hours later.

How? Very, very good question.

Turns out, you didn’t actually turn off your alarm. You just yanked the Alexa plug straight out of the wall.

Problem solved. Good riddance. You check your phone– dead. Oh.

You forgot you didn’t put it on the charger.

You almost cry. You decide now it’s best to charge it.

You finally decide to drag yourself out of bed, the frame giving a tiny creak in protest. Barefoot, you shuffle towards the connected bathroom, wincing slightly as you turn the overhead light flickers on.

As soon as you do, you can see your reflection through the mirror. You practically groan at the sight. You close your eyes and rub them harshly, as if you can scrub the exhaustion away.

You take another shower.

Fast forward: you’re dressed, in desperate need of food, and internally bargaining for someone to go do your ‘task’ for you. You grab your phone, still on the charger, and text the GC, asking for them to send their lists. With that part handled, You leave your phone in your room as you make your way into the kitchen.

As you walk in the kitchen, in desperate search for coffee, you spot Bucky, right in front of the coffee machine, taking the last batch.

You just stare in utmost shock.

Granted, he felt a shift in the air and turned to you, almost glaring at the cup in his hands, “You good?”

You frown. The audacity.

“Just fine,” you mutter, a little too tightly, brushing past him as you search the cupboards for a mug. You grab the most aggressive one you can find: ‘Thanos was right.’

Fitting.

You decide to settle for tea. Bucky doesn’t say anything for the most part, he’s just silently drinking his coffee, as you drink your tea.

Then Yelena walks in.

“Good,” she says without anything else, pointing between the two of you. “Both of you. Perfect.”

Bucky raises his eyebrow, “Perfect for..what?”

“Grocery shopping!” She smiles sweetly, “Y/N is on the list today, but I decided to switch it up for today. So, team bonding. Off you go!”

Bucky blinks. Fuck this chore wheel. Can’t they just hire people to do these tasks?

“I didn’t sign up for this.” Bucky says, attempting to put his foot down.

“You live here.” Yelena deadpans, “Congrats! You have responsibilities!"

She grabs a drink from the fridge and is almost out the door before calling over her shoulder, “Don’t forget my Sriracha!”

–

AT THE STORE

You’re in the cereal aisle.

You don't even remember how you got here. One minute, you were reluctantly putting on real pants, and the next, you were pushing a cart with a grumpy Bucky Barnes walking beside you like he’s being forced into a hostage situation.

Because, technically, he is.

Since half of the team didn’t even send their lists, you were forced to choose the cereal for the next two weeks.

You stare at the shelves, trying to make an unbiased decision on whether the team is more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kind of crowd or if they give off Lucky Charms vibes. Bucky leans on the cart handle, impatient. “You’ve been staring at cereal for five minutes.”

“Well, my bad, if I can’t figure out if the team is–”

Before you can finish, he silently grabs a box of Corn Flakes, drops it into the cart, and starts walking away.

You blink. Corn flakes wasn't even an option.

As Bucky is leaving with the cart, you sigh, grab a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch anyway, and jog to catch up.

“Glad to help speed up the process,” He says nonchalantly, scanning the area as if the sugary cereals can kill him. “Where next?”

“Okay first of all.. you didn’t speed anything up. You just made a really bad decision,” You say, tossing your cereal box into the cart with a dramatic flair. “Second, we need to get the team’s protein powder.”

“Sounds disgusting.”

“Trust me..it is.” You shudder, “But, you definitely don’t need to worry, since you dont really need it.”

The next thirty minutes are spent roaming the store with Bucky, the two of you tossing essentials into the cart—some intentional, some impulse grabs. You argue over what counts as an “easier” snack and you almost forgot you were part of a superhero team.

Until it happens.

A girl—maybe college-aged, maybe younger, gasps loudly near the end of the frozen foods aisle.

“Oh my God. Are you guys the New Avengers?”

You freeze mid-reach for the frozen pizza. Bucky goes still, like someone just aimed a sniper rifle at his back. Slowly, you both turn.

The girl’s practically bouncing. “Wait—can I get a picture? Oh my God, my sister’s gonna flip. You guys are so much hotter in person!”

Bucky sighs through his nose like it physically pained him. You offer a small, tight smile.

“Yes of course!” You say, the media training they made you do kicking in. You motion to her to stand between you and Bucky.

To your surprise, Bucky even starts to smile—like, a real one. It’s almost charming. Look at that. He remembers how to interact with the public. Progress.

The fan takes the photo, and squeals again once she looks at it. “You guys are like my favorite team. Ever! Totally have to post this on my Insta! So– wait, do you guys, like.. live together?”

You blink. “I mean.. Technically.”

“In the same tower?” she presses, eyes flicking between you and Bucky, who starts to wish he stayed in the car.

“Yep.” He answers for you.

Her eyes narrow. “Are you two… like, together together?”

Bucky almost chokes. You, on the other hand, let out the world’s most awkward laugh.

“Uh, no! But we are definitely done here! Danger is calling,” You say quickly, grabbing the cart handles and making a sharp U-turn, “Say hello to your sister for me! Have an awesome day!”

Bucky practically chases after you.

The fan is left shocked but satisfied, as she clicks on Instagram and starts a Live. “Guys you’ll never guess who I just saw shopping together–”

—-

Back at the Tower, you're in the kitchen with Bucky, the both of you unpacking the groceries in silence—well, companionable silence, anyway. The fluorescent lights hum, cabinets open and close, and every now and then you bump into each other at the fridge.

Walker strolls in and decides to help you guys put the groceries away. After a while, you guys were done and Walker opens the freezer.

“Uh, where’s my pizza rolls?” He asks.

You pause, look at Bucky. He looks at you. Neither of you say anything.

Walker turns around slowly. “Guys.”

“Bucky forgot it.” you say, flatly.

Walker turns to Bucky. “You forgot my pizza rolls, Buck?”

Bucky doesn't even blink. “You didn’t send your list.”

“I said it out loud!”

You snort. “We’re human. We forget shit.”

Walker glares at Bucky. “I told you when we were at the gym!”

“I had headphones in.”

“We were in the sauna!” Walker sighs, tired of this shit “I risk my life for this team, and this is what I get.”

You quietly toss him a frozen burrito. “Here. Be grateful.”

Walker catches it and glares. “This better be beef.”

“It’s beef,” You nod, already walking out of the kitchen.

...You think it's beef. You’re like 60% sure you read it on the box. Okay, maybe like 40% sure.

You and Bucky both pause just outside the doorway, subtly listening.

2 minutes pass.

Walker grunts in satisfaction. “Okay. It’s beef.”

You exhale in relief and keep walking, Bucky falling into step beside you.

Once you’re both out of the kitchen, a brief silence settles in as you walk side by side. It’s not uncomfortable—just... different. Like something’s sitting in the air that neither of you have named yet.

You have a weird feeling in your chest. Being around Bucky Barnes brings out a weird side of you. You don’t wanna name. Not yet. Because if it is what you think it is—

Yeah.

You’re screwed.

You clear your throat, eyes looking ahead again. “Well... thanks for coming with me today. I know you didn’t really want to.”

Bucky’s quiet for a beat. Then, soft enough that you almost didn’t reach your ears, “Wouldn't have gone if it wasn't you.”

Your heart thuds.

“Oh,” You manage to squeak out.

Another beat of silence.

“Try not to forget anything, next time.” You say, like a coward.

Oh My God.

“I’ll do my best.” He replies, with a shrug that says he’s absolutely lying.

“I'm gonna find Yelena.” You give him the weakest excuse.

You walk off before you can say something even stupider, tossing a casual “See ya!” over your shoulder.

You don’t see the way Bucky watches you leave.

But maybe it’s better that way.

–

You find Yelena in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a bag of chips balanced on her lap and some ridiculous crime documentary playing in the background.

She doesn’t look up when you knock—just gestures lazily. “It’s open.”

You step inside, shutting and locking the door behind you. “Hey!”

“How was grocery shopping?” She smiles, knowing exactly what she did.

You narrow your eyes at her. “It was alright.” You sit next to her, silently watching the show with her. As she turns to you, she tilts her head, “You know it’s obvious, right?”

You return her pointed look. “What is?”

“Your feelings for Barnes.” Yelena says, as if she didn't just drop a metaphorical bomb on you.

“Oh my God.” You groan, dramatically flopping onto her bed. “I don’t—I do not like that man.”

Yelena arches a brow, unimpressed.

“I mean, as a person, sure, yes, I respect him. But I don’t have feelings for him.”

“Mhmmm,” Yelena pretends to listen to you.

A sudden realization hits you like a bucket of cold water. “Wait… You planned the grocery store!”

“Look at that,” She says, smirking. “You used your smart brain.”

You stare, betrayed. “Yelena.”

“Team bonding,” she says with exaggerated air quotes. “I just pulled that out of my ass. You’re welcome.”

You stare at her. “I dont–”

She points at you, a mysterious look in her eyes. “You don't have to lie,” Yelena says, her tone extremely casual, “It’s normal. Girl likes Boy. Boy likes Girl. End of story.”

You shake your head, because it’s never that easy.

“No. Not end of story. There is no story,” You say, almost pleading, “I can’t like Bucky, he’s literally perfect!”

Yelena looks at you like you’re crazy. “Him?”

“He was literally in Congress. He’s friends with Captain America…” you mutter, like the words are proof of something. “And. I had options after I left the Red Room, and I still chose the wrong path. I didn’t know better, but I still chose wrong. That makes me a terrible person.”

Yelena pouts.

"Okay,” Yelena says softly, voice steady, “Well then you are fooling yourself. Because you’re not a terrible person and you still like Bucky.”

“Stop saying that— Lena, please.” You whisper, glancing around instinctively. You’re in her room, door closed, but still. You’ve never trusted thin walls.

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I know my place. But Alexei—”

“Lena!” You hiss.

“What! Don't blame me, it's obvious.” She says, not even pretending to feel bad, “I can try to get him not to speak about it. At least not in front of Bucky.”

You feel the tension ease out your shoulders. “Thank you.”

–

The transition from fall to winter always makes Bucky feel…heavier.

To be fair, Bucky tries fighting this feeling. He’s spent almost his whole life feeling bad about himself, but lately, he's been getting better, courtesy of Dr.Raynor.

He loves his cat, Alpine, the little menace who isn’t afraid to stand her ground.

He loves the small bookstore that opened a few blocks away from the Tower, which rekindled Bucky’s reading phase, a quiet escape he missed dearly. Because ever since he joined this rag-tag team of heroes, he hasn’t fully had time to be by himself.

He’s even started to listen to some of the music you recommended, a nice attempt to drag him out of his olden days into the new century.

In general, Bucky has started to make peace with things.

It truly is the little things that matter.

Of course, he can’t help but notice the way you light up when he tells you he likes a new song, or how your face softens when he asks for more recommendations. Bucky knows it’s silly, but he likes these moments, even if he can’t bring himself to say it outright.

Ever since your departure from the Red Room, you threw yourself into countless hobbies, desperately trying to reclaim the pieces of your stolen childhood. Singing, writing, reading, painting, gaming—each one a quiet act of defiance, a way to remind yourself that you were more than what they made you. But the one thing that always pulled you back from the edge, the one thing that never wavered, was music.

Sometimes, late at night when Bucky couldn’t sleep, the nightmares being too much to bear, he'd listen to the songs you gave him. He’d picture you in your room, headphones on and swaying to the music gently. And it gave him hope, that maybe he could do it too, maybe he could find something that made the world more bearable to go on with.

On one of those nights, he found himself sitting alone in the dimly lit living room, Alpine curled up on the couch beside him. He didn’t even bother turning on the lamp. His thoughts were heavy, but the soft hum of music in his earbuds offered a silent comfort.

That’s when he heard your footsteps in the hallway, light but sure. You paused at the entrance, your hair tousled from sleep, wearing one of his old shirts that always made him smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly, stepping into the living room, surprised to see him.

“Yeah,” He mutters softly, as he raises the book he was reading in his hands.

At the sight of the book, you remembered how he loaned you The Hobbit, “Speaking of books, I’ve read your annotations.”

Bucky seemed to forget how to respond for a second, “You actually read those?”

“Well, it was kinda hard to ignore them,” You reply, settling next to him on the couch as Alpine took off and disappeared into the darkness. “I loved seeing how you view the characters. Makes the story ten times better.”

“Good to know,” He replied, smiling faintly at that, a tired but friendly smile which always made your stomach churn.

So many questions filled your mind, yet it wasn't the moment to voice them. Why was he awake? Was everything alright? What was his experience like in Congress?

For the most part, you kept those questions to yourself. But one of your thoughts had to slip out.

“What are you listening to?” You asked softly, your tone warm and curious, an attempt to change the subject.

He raised his brow, almost surprised by the question. Bucky gently pulled out one earbud, offering it to you as if sharing a secret. “One of the songs you recommended,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment as he handed you the earbud.

Sliding it into your ear, you hear the soft beat of one of your favorite songs, you look at him. This was one of the first songs you recommended to him, because it helped bring you out from a dark place many moons ago.

You can't believe your ears, you turn to him with a small smile on your lips, “Can’t believe you still listen to this.”

“It’s a decent song,” He shrugs almost shyly, his eyes gentle, “Kinda helps…sometimes.”

You understand.

You don't say anything else, not out loud anyway. Instead, you just let the song fill between you, the familiar beat serving as a connection between you too. In that moment, there's no need for words or actions, the music says everything.

Bucky shifts closer to you, just slightly, as if the small distance between you guys was a barrier.

You feel the heat of his shoulder against yours, the comfort of his presence. He doesn’t look at you, You don't look at him, you’re just trying to slow down your heartbeat. Your gaze shifts to his metal arm; beautiful and metallic. Slowly and carefully, you reach out and lay your hand over his, your fingers tracing the cool ridges of the vibranium plates. He stiffens for a split second, then relaxes, his shoulders sagging just a little.

You know what this means. You know you’re trying to let yourself feel, something unfamiliar and scary, but also something you can’t keep ignoring anymore.

“I hope this… doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I just–”

Bucky shakes his head, cutting you off softly. “It’s fine,” he says, his voice calm and almost dismissive—like it’s no big deal to him, even though you both know it is. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You then, feeling bold and comforted by his casualness, reach for his hand. Your fingers wrap around his, the contrast of his cool metal arm against your flesh arm making you feel grounded. He doesn’t pull away—if anything, he shifts just a little, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a silent reassurance.

You almost cry.

The warmth of the moment lingers, you make a mental note to yourself to write this down somewhere, afraid you might forget that this happened.

Eventually, you start to get tired and fall asleep leaning on his shoulder. Bucky was gentle, careful not to move too much and disturb your sleep, as he shifted slightly, sliding one arm under your knees and the other around your back to lift you up. You stirred a little, but didn’t wake, your head moving against his chest. He carried you to your room, the softest look on his face.

He opened the door and slowly put you on your bed, adjusting the covers to cover your entire body. He paused for a moment to look at you, your face so calm and peaceful even in your sleep. A small grin showed up on his face.

Then he remembered how this might look if you woke up right then, and he shifted back awkwardly. “Night,” he whispered softly, careful not to disturb you, and just a little embarrassed as he closed the door gently behind him.

After 3 hours of sleep, You woke up feeling a bit confused. You sit up slowly, trying to recall how you ended up here, in your bed, tucked like a little lamb in Mary’s farm. Then, You remember the soft music and Bucky hours before.

You remember the soft feeling you felt in your heart when you held his hand. A tiny smile tugging at your lips, as you brush your fingers over your soft comforter.

If only Dreykov can see you now.

---

guys dont hate me bc they will notttt be confessing anytime soon.

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #not proofread at all #thunderbolts fic

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barnesandwilsons · 2 months ago

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I keep thinking about the fact that Bucky first met Bob as Sentry!Bob and then got ... taken apart by him and then saw him as The Void but, later in the void-world, still decided that what he'd heard about him from Yelena and the others and what he had come to know about Bob was enough for him to become protective and save Bob from the void because thats exactly who Bucky is at his core!

He will protect the ~tiny guy and he will be the grumpy old uncle and I love that we finally get to see him as such again!

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barnesandwilsons · 2 months ago

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Maybe, Just Maybe

a/n: yess guys i watched thunderbolts and i had to do something about it. lovedd the movie sm so here’s a little something i wrote… idk if i should write more because it’s literally just an introduction..??? didnt even bother to proof-read before i end up deleting everything

pairing: bucky x reader

tw: really bad thoughts from reader, bucky being sweet, walker being semi-mean, Red Room mentioned, bucky gives reader his clothes.

PART 2

word count: 2k+..?

summary: you're a new recruit to the thunderbolts, only knowing yelena from your old days, you struggle to find your place in this new environment.

You stepped off the black transport van, keeping your shoulders tense with your eyes scanning everything. A special thanks to your time at the Red Room –giving you paranoia forever. The cold air immediately greeted you as it pushed past your thin ass jacket, you didn’t shiver at all. You’re used to these types of climate, you couldn't afford to look weak in front of your new team. The Thunderbolts.

Behind her, Yelena dropped down from the van and gave her a light push with her arm. “You good?” she asks, in a low volume for only you to hear.

You gave her a curt nod and looked ahead of you, Yelena led the way towards the New Avengers tower. You notice a buff man with a metal arm standing in front of the doors, his arms crossed over his chest.

One thing about the Red Room – it traumatized you. You were conditioned to have no fear. But, after years outside that hellhole – thanks to Yelena and Natasha – you started to feel things. Emotions. Fear. Distrust. Sadness.

Many people will describe you as always uncomfortable; in other terms you were uncomfortable around people you didn’t know. Coming back to the States, you realized some people truly are evil assholes.

Yelena greets the man with the arm, “Hey, tin-man.”

He looks at her and nods his head towards you in confusion. You immediately grow nauseous.

“She’s with me.” Yelena reminds him.

He looks at you for a beat too long, your fingers twitch at your sides. You hate this feeling – actually being seen, a strong contrast to your old ways – disappearing in a flash. You turn your gaze away, fixating on a crack on the floor near your feet.

“Right,” the big guy said – Bucky Barnes, you remembered, the Winter Soldier, without his long hair he looks like a new man, he steps aside and realizes his harsh demeanor as he fixes it with a small smile, “Welcome.”

You say nothing as you walk past him with the blonde. Yelena says, “Y/N keep walking straight to the elevator and wait for me.” You continue walking as Yelena turns to Bucky.

“She’s not great with people.” Yelena says protectively, “So, don't take it personally.”

Bucky scoffs, “Didn’t notice.” Bucky really doesn’t blame you. He hasn’t met you for longer than 4 minutes and he can already tell you were damaged. In the nicest way possible, you reminded him of his old self.

Yelena tuts and walks to where you’re standing really awkwardly. You give her a smirk. “Nice digs.”

Yelena smirks, glad she finally has a place to call home, “You should see the kitchen, totally worth it.” She hits the button for the elevator, causing it to immediately open as you both step in.

—

NEXT WEEK

The mission didn't go exactly as planned. Many more bodies were wasted than anticipated. Bucky and You were partners in the same sub-division, meanwhile Walker and Yelena were on the other side of the building.

As the team made it inside the Avengers tower, Walker yelled, “Are you guys really that incompetent you can’t follow simple procedures?”

You frown, jaw tense, you know you messed up but he was being a tiny bit harsh. He turns to you and immediately frowns, “And you! The fuck is your problem–”

Before he says anything else, Yelena steps between you silently, face held up, like a shield.

Walker’s sentence falters – because let’s be real who isn’t a tiny bit afraid of Yelena.

“She made a mistake,” Yelena says, her voice even.

Walker scoffs, clearly done with this shit, “Whatever. Next time, keep her in check.”

No one moves until he storms out the room, his footsteps finally fading away to his room. Bucky then turns to you, “You okay?”

You’re about to answer, but Yelena does that for you, “She’s fine.”

Bucky looks to Yelena, then to you, then back at her and nods awkwardly, “Alright then.” Then he makes his way to the kitchen, probably to get himself some much needed coffee. Yelena follows him and you can’t help but feel helpless, you know you made a mistake, but it isn’t your fault. You did seem a bit kill-hungry, maybe it was the way the Red Room had embedded this hunger into you. Or maybe it was the coping methods you used to relieve yourself from the never-ending weight of the world on your shoulders.

After they leave, you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you took. You make your way into your room and look around. You curse yourself for thinking you can do this —- because you can’t.

Not with how your hands won’t stop shaking once you’re alone. Your heartbeat trying to claw its way out your chest, and certainly not with that terrible voice in your head whispering that you’re shit, and that you always will be.

You sit on the edge of your bed and dig your fingers into your stomach, hopefully trying to drown out these thoughts with pain. Repeating that you’re fine and this is totally normal.

Add that to the list of the many things that's wrong with you.

You sit in the dark for a while, the warmness of your room seeping into your bones, the soft hum of the compound being the only sound. You think about how Walker’s words sting, you think about the 4 bodies that happened to die by your hand today, you think about how Bucky looked at you as if he was trying to understand you.

You almost chuckle at the thought because you're still trying to understand yourself. You hated that he looked at you so gently. How his blue eyes tried to unravel your soul and purpose of being here. You hated it because it made you want to spill your secrets, on why you’re like this, on how the Red Room forged you into this fucked-up piece of shit who can barely form a single thought without thinking about the blood on your hands.

You dig the fingers against your stomach harder.

Oh the unnecessary deaths.

You hate that part of you still flinches when someone raises their voice, even if it is Walker being a jackass. You hate that you aren’t normal enough to love the fact that someone as sweet and kind-looking as Bucky motherfucking Barnes even looks your way. Because what if he sees your worth? What if he finds out that you truly are damaged and unfixable?

You’re not good. You’re not a hero. Hell, if the perspectives were turned, you were a villain. You’re blessed to have Yelena fight for you because you’ve done immeasurable things. You don’t even count yourself as a person anymore, you were forged and made into a weapon. Someone who was kept on a leash from an early age, you have to pretend you’re healed from it. No emotion and no hesitation showing; just how it was back in the Red Room. You’re not even sure about how you didn’t snap yet.

You press your forehead into your knees, maybe staying this way will dull away the pain. Just for the night. You need to find a way to deal with this before it gets worse, because you can’t afford to fall apart now. Not when you can feel something good within these four walls. A family. The Thunderbolts didn’t turn you away when Yelena brought you here. You have to prove to them that you belong here.

A knock raps gently on your door.

Once. Then Twice.

You freeze. You don’t answer. Silently praying to any God that can hear you that whoever it is will go away. As you hold your breath you hear a voice,

“It’s me.”

Your face cringes. Fuck. You blink, once, then twice, then again for good measure.

Bucky.

“I–” He pauses, careful about his choice of words, “I know you’re probably not in the mood. I just wanted to – I made you a sandwich.”

You frown, tilting your head to the left. He made you a sandwich?

You don't speak yet. You don’t even move from your spot.

But he doesn’t leave, he continues, “It’s a peanut butter sandwich.”

You stare at the door. You hate how sweet this man is. His kindness feels as if you’re using him, like if he offers you a sliver of kindness, you’re taking something that you don’t deserve.

You get up from the bed, because now that you think of it. You are hungry. You open the door and see that he has changed into a much comfier set of clothes; a black shirt showing off his metallic metal arm, along with gray sweatpants. You can’t lie, he looks good right now.

As soon as you open the door, he looks down at you and notices you still in your gear. But before he even mentions that, you say something, “I’m allergic.”

He looks confused. “Huh?”

“To peanut butter.”

He blinks, “Allergic?”

You nod sadly, “Deadly, even.”

Silence. Another beat of silence passes as you guys share eye contact. Then, Bucky chuckles, “Yelena literally made you a peanut butter sandwich yesterday.”

You freeze. Oops. “It was my cheat day.”

“Yeah, okay,” His lip twitches, almost like he’s fighting a smile. You’re funny, he’ll give you that. “Well besides your allergies, I can make something else?”

You cringe. Maybe Bucky Barnes is something good. Maybe he is the light at the end of the tunnel. Or maybe you’re spiraling to have something good in your life. Either way, it doesnt change the fact that he’s practically begging you to eat.

You glance down at your tactical boots, you still see remnants of blood on them. “You don't have to.”

“I know,” he says simply, “But, I’m still here.”

Your eyes flick back up to meet his. Warmth. He’s not trying to push. Just offering.

“I dont know what, I would like to eat,” You admit softly as you cross your arms across your chest.

But that doesn't faze him, “Good thing, we have a big ass kitchen, with an even bigger food selection."

You snort under your breath softly, he smiles at your response. Grateful that he’s finally seen you smile ever since you got here. He’s about to turn to lead you back to the kitchen but he remembered you’re still in your gear.

“Go on and change,” He started, “I know you’re uncomfortable right now.”

You look back into your almost empty room. Kinda embarrassed you admit, “The few clothes I came with happen to be in the wash..”

He pauses, brows furrowing slightly before his expression softens, “Hold on.”

He disappears back into his room at the end of the hallway, leaving you at the doorway, half regretting that you opened the door and the other half grateful that you did. When he returns he’s holding a black hoodie and gray sweats – which looks incredibly too big for you.

“Here,” He offers you, as he holds it out to you as if he’s giving you a high five.

You hesitate. “Isn’t that yours?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s clean though.” He smiles awkwardly. Maybe he’s coming off too strong. He doesn’t wanna scare you off.

You take it. “Thanks.”

He nods. No problem.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He says, before heading off.

You watch him go and as soon as he’s gone from your vision, you look down at the clothes in your hand… and smile.

You quickly change out your clothes and immediately wear Bucky’s. It’s soft. A nice alternative to the previous clothes you’ve worn. It smells so warm as well. You look into your bathroom mirror and see yourself, you look tired and worn out. Setting a quick reminder to yourself that after your meal, you need to sleep for about 12 hours.

Bucky’s hoodie easily covers your whole torso and is almost too long for your arms. The sweatpants are almost dragging the floor, but they are soft and warm, so who are you to complain?

You couldn't believe it. Just a few hours ago, you were taking lives. But now? Now you are in a new home. With people who might become your new family.

With another quick glance at the mirror, you walk outside making your way into the kitchen.

Not because you’re fine. But because maybe, you’re starting to believe that you could be.

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #thunderbolts #umm idk what this is sorry #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic

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barnesandwilsons · 7 months ago

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random WIP i have had for YEARSS..

“Consider it as a thank you, sweetheart. Lemme take care of you.” Dean says softly, he uses his hand to cup my jaw and run his thumb across my cheek, “God knows you deserve it.”

Then I’m in the bathtub, naked of course. I feel Dean’s presence next to me on the floor as he runs his hands through my wet hair.

“You did good today.” He praises, talking about the hunt. He rubs conditioner on my hair and scratches my scalp. I smirk, “So did you, cowboy.”

He washes out my hair and looks down at the bathtub, it was filled with water and bubbles, you couldn’t even see my body.

“Eyes up here, Winchester.” I jab. His eyes immediately shoot up though and he shares a cheeky, but embarrassed smile.

DEANS POV:

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

#dean x reader #guys should i even finish this #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #spn #dean winchester x reader

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barnesandwilsons · 2 years ago

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first thing i see back on this beautiful hellsite is manbun seb and woah

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barnesandwilsons · 4 years ago

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It’s Jeff – Infinity Comic #7 (2021)

written by Kelly Thompson art by Gurihiru

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barnesandwilsons · 4 years ago

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𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 🍂

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barnesandwilsons · 4 years ago

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this is really embarrassing that it took me this long to write this. i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to write it in an ACTUAL fic.

Request:

hi there 👋 I saw you write for miraculous ladybug. do you write for luka? I was hoping to request a scenario where luka is comforting reader who is dealing with the loss of a loved one. if you don't write for luka, would you be willing to do bucky from the mcu? thanks in advance if you accept the request :)

a/n: also very very sorry this is so short. and my requests are now closed because schools being a big asshole rn..

my very short masterlist.

———

once you found out the news about your loved one, you immediately told bucky. like immediately.

whenever he comes back from a mission he would always find you sittin on the couch zoned out.

he would tap your shoulder softly, and replace his hand with a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

he would always sit down next to you when you’re crying about the situation, he would also put his arm over your shoulder

and whisper in your ear some reassurances like..

“cmon y/n talk to me.”

“i love you.”

“tell me, it’s okay.” “i understand.”

he would also say “let it all out.” when you cry on his shoulder, you were too caught up in the crying to realize you stained his shirt with your tears.

he didn’t mind though.

#bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu bucky barnes #tfatws #bucky barnes

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barnesandwilsons · 4 years ago

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Understudy

summary: Bucky knew after he'd ended things, you'd eventually move on. But when he's confronted with the reality of you with another man, he's certain it will tear him apart pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.6k warnings: jealous!bucky, exes to lovers, protective!bucky is a self-sabotaging!bucky, frat boy shield agents try to get handsy a/n: based off of these lyrics from Exile by Taylor Swift & Bon Iver

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Bucky dipped his fingers into the collar of his necktie and tugged. Slumped over the edge of the bar, he did his best to ignore the conversations of the wealthy donors as they circled around him, whispering to one another when they spotted the reflection of silver on his hand. He wrapped his grip tighter around the edge of his glass. It splintered down the side.

There had been a time once when he enjoyed these sorts of parties. Getting dressed up with a beautiful woman on his arm, dancing at the center of an empty floor, the anticipation of the ride home, and clothes worth more than his paycheck thrown haphazardly to the floor.

He wouldn’t have come at all tonight if Stark hadn’t insisted he needed to improve the Winter Soldier’s public image. It felt wrong to even wear the damn suit if you weren’t holding onto his arm, whispering into his ear and sneaking pastries from the kitchen before dinner.

Perhaps that was why as he caught sight of you stepping into the ballroom in a dress you’d once purchased with his only gaze in mind, Bucky shattered the glass in his hand. He paid no attention to the whiskey as it spilled to the bar or the shards of glass on the counter as he took in the floor-length, ruby gown.

It hugged at your waist and slipped into elegant flowing fabric along your legs, a slit inching up along your thigh. The neckline hung low enough to meet your sternum, exposing a long line of skin and the curve of your chest under a thin, gold chain.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his position on the barstool. He could still remember the skip in his heart when you’d given him a glimpse of the dress as it hung in your closet and jokes of whether it would look better on his bedroom floor.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you since the breakup, but it was the first time he’d seen you on the arm of another man.

Agent Mark Lanning sauntered into the room in a pace a half step too quick for your heels, though he didn’t seem to notice as you held on tight to his arm. He carried himself with the heightened ego of an agent who had seen one good mission and clung to inflated stories of his bravery as if he'd been presented with honors and medals upon the halls in SHIELD. The way he looked at you with a possessive nature in his eye masked only by the charm in his smile was enough to prove that Lanning saw you in the same way he boasted of his achievements: a prize to be won.

He walked into the room as if to say, “Look who picked up the pieces the Winter Soldier left behind!”, as if it were some kind of game to win over the heart of a woman who had so selflessly loved a soulless man.

Bucky kept his eyes on you as you gestured to Natasha and Steve. You turned to Lanning, tugging sweetly on the sleeve of his jacket to urge him to follow, but your smile quickly fell as he grumbled something under his breath. Bucky felt the bile rise in his throat.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to end up with another SHIELD agent, much less a man who constantly kept a hand on your lower back as if to anchor you solely to him. You were supposed to find something normal, something safe, something kinder to the life of a woman who owned a coffeeshop in Brooklyn, something far away from the danger of the Avengers. You were supposed to be free of the weight that came with being with a man under the threat of vengeance and retaliation of his enemies.

Bucky broke your heart to keep you safe and Lanning swooped in like a fucking vulture to tear at the pieces, to leave you bleeding in an open road under the scorch of a sun at high noon.

“You look like shit.” Sam suddenly appeared on Bucky’s left, his watchful stare eyeing the shine of spilled whiskey on the bar and the stench of it on Bucky’s sleeve.

Bucky knew better than to keep his eyes on you with Sam hanging over his shoulder, but there was something about the way Lanning was leering over you that Bucky couldn’t justify anything less. The primal need to protect you hadn’t gone away the day he ended your relationship, just as the burning tug in his chest hadn’t lessened each time you walked into the room.

He still loved you and Sam knew it.

“What do you know about Mark Lanning?” Bucky grumbled as Natasha and Steve made their way over to you. You glowed at the sight of them, missing old friends you hadn’t seen since the breakup, and Lanning all but rolled his eyes as you threw your arms around Steve’s neck.

Sam groaned. “Don’t do this, man. You broke up with her, remember? Let them be.”

“He’s an asshole, Sam,” Bucky gritted out, barely able to restrain himself as Lanning clearly checked out Natasha with eyes trailing down the entire length of her body as she was caught up in conversation with you. “He doesn’t care about her. He’s using her. She deserves someone better than that piece of—”

Sam scoffed. “Someone like you?”

Bucky shot him a glare. He clenched his jaw. “I can’t be with her, Sam. You know that.”

“No, I don’t actually,” Sam rolled his eyes. “You clearly still love her and—”

“You were on that mission, Sam,” Bucky snapped. “You know damn well why I had to end things.”

It happened in Moscow when they’d raided an ex-Hydra operative’s safe house.

Dozens of pictures had been strung up against the wall amongst newspaper clippings and headlines of Avenger sightings over the last three years. He’d seen shots of Natasha, of Steve and Sam, of Tony, of himself—but the one that made his heart stop was the image of you circled in bright red marker, an iced coffee in hand as you closed up shop for the day, oblivious to the camera as it hid behind a sea of tourists.

He had no proof that the retired agent held any current connections to Hydra or that the walls of his home amounted to anything more than the deranged mind of an old man, but Bucky couldn’t take the chance. You couldn’t be associated to him after this.

The affection of a kind, selfless woman wasn’t enough. The undying loyalty of a man who’d been ripped of his identity and his free will wasn’t enough. His love for you wasn’t enough.

Bucky would rather break your heart than hold you bloody and broken in his arms. It was his only choice.

“I know you’re trying to protect her,” Sam eased, softening as he followed Bucky’s gaze to find you brushing the crumbs off the corner of Lanning’s mouth before he leaned in to kiss you. Bucky averted his gaze, holding his breath. Sam sighed. “This is killing you, man. Is it really any better that she’s with Lanning? You think he’d give even half as much to protect her as you would?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Bucky stressed, repeating the same words he’d told himself over and over again to justify what he’d done.

“Dangerous or not, you should have at least given her the chance to decide for herself,” Sam said, picking up the drink he’d ordered from the bartender and stood from his seat. “Instead, you made that call for her and now you’re subjecting yourself to watching the woman you love dote over a douchebag like Lanning.”

“What do you want me to do, Sam?” Bucky pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be selfish with her life. Pretending like I never saw her picture on that wall, pretending like our enemies don’t know what she means to me... it’s not an option. I can’t gamble with her life just because I miss her.”

Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping. The strain in Bucky’s voice did not go unnoticed, nor did the quick clearing of his throat and the brush over his eyes. Sam took a step forward, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave a short squeeze. There was nothing he could say and Bucky knew that. He appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Then, Bucky was on his own again, surrounded by a dozen wealthy donors and their hushed gossip as he nursed another whiskey that would do little to touch the fire burning in his veins.

He kept his position in the shadows as he watched you smile at Lanning the way you used to smile at him, how you’d run a hand along his arm to gather his attention, as you leaning against him as you laughed. You were beautiful, stunning, and it still wasn’t enough to encompass how easily you’d captured Bucky's attention. Red dress or coffee stained apron; you were the most beautiful woman in every room.

But Bucky noticed Lanning, too. He watched how Lanning’s eyes wandered to the bodies of women as they strolled by the table, trailing down the curves of their dresses and shooting them a playful smirk when they caught his eye. Bucky watched as Lanning pulled you away from conversations by kissing you mid-sentence as if to keep you quiet. He felt his chest grow tight as Lanning’s hand slid under the table and you jumped, shooting him a look of surprise and quickly excusing yourself.

Bucky downed the rest of the whiskey and followed you.

He knew it was a bad idea, that he had no claim to you or your heart, but as you slipped between guests and weaved around the tables in heed of the balcony and the open view of the city skyline, Bucky couldn’t help but follow in your wake. You’d always taken him to the roof of the tower in the moments he couldn’t catch his breath, held his hand as you opened windows to your apartment in the dead of winter – the fresh air providing a solace you couldn’t find elsewhere. Bucky quickened his pace.

The balcony was empty as you stepped outside and inhaled until it filled your lungs to the brim. You leaned against the railing, hands gripping to the edge as you looked out to the lights of the city. Relief in the solitude. You shivered as a breeze caught your shoulders.

Bucky took a careful step closer, his footsteps remarkably silent in his decades of training.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

You turned at the sound of Bucky’s voice, hand clutched at your heart as you took in the sight of him. His cheeks burned warm under your gaze; your eyes pointed and narrowed, so unlike the delicacy in which he was used to from you. They fell to his feet just as quickly.

“That’s not for you to decide.” Even in your anger, your voice remained as gentle as the first few drops of a rainfall. You held your ground, but you couldn’t meet his eye, almost as if you were afraid of what you might find beyond the storms of ocean currents in his stare.

“You’re not happy with him,” Bucky urged, stepping close enough that he could feel the heat of your breath. He wanted to pull you into his arms, smell the conditioner in your hair and press his lips to the crown of your head, but he’d lost that right months ago. “You’re not happy. You’re trying to be, but it’s not working. I know you better than that. Lanning is using you, Y/n. You have to see that.”

You scoffed, a glimpse of the anger you never allowed him to witness bubbling to the surface. Not even in the dark overcast of your apartment living room when he’d sat you down on the couch and dismantled two years of your lives together did you so much as bare your teeth at him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you snapped, shoving aside his hand as he reached toward you in comfort. “You don’t get to—to just storm back into my life whenever you feel like it! You can’t just break up with me out of nowhere and expect to have any say in how I deal with the fallout! You wanted out? So be out, James!"

Bucky flinched. It wasn’t a name familiar on your tongue and it felt like you were drawing a line in the sand, putting a wedge further between you as wide as a mountain. To call him by a name so formal, without the sugary sweet affection in your voice, it made him recoil at the sound.

You shook your head, letting the anger quickly drain from your body as you turned back out to the skyline. Bucky followed, leaning his back to the railing as he stared inside to the sea of guests. The air was thick between you. Bucky held his breath.

“You can’t do this to me, Bucky,” you sighed, sniffling under the chill of the breeze. “You can’t act like I’m still yours.”

He knew. It didn’t make it hurt less as the knife plunged itself deep into his chest and twisted.

“You decided to leave, Bucky. You.” You could hardly get the words out. The hurt lingered heavy in your voice. “You think so poorly of him and yet he’s the one I’m here with tonight.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He could feel your eyes burning on him and he tried not to let the heartache slip through the surface. You had every right to move on without his interference. It was what he wanted for you, wasn’t it? He didn’t get to have a say in who you chose to do that with, and still, he couldn’t keep the words from spilling past his lips.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

You sighed, a terrible kind of sadness coming over your features that threatened to shatter Bucky’s heart where he stood. You nodded. “Yeah, well, I’d know a bit about that, wouldn’t I?”

Bucky blinked at you, a wash of panic quickly sweeping through him enough to still his heart and plummet his stomach down to the center of the Earth.

Was it... Was it possible you believed the reason he’d ended things was because you weren’t enough for him?

“Y/n...” he called your name in a broken whisper, but you’d already turned back to the doors.

He would have told you the whole truth of it if you’d only stayed, if you paused as he called your name, but you kept walking. But he deserved as much. You didn’t even dare for a final look over your shoulder before you disappeared back into the crowd.

****

Bucky spent the rest of the evening longing for the days when the sweet burn of alcohol would render him beyond the capacity for guilt and heartbreak, replacing his longing and jealousy with a numb aftertaste of a comforting darkness. The whiskey barely touched him anymore and he remained drenched to the bone in regret as he watched across the room as Mark Lanning stole you into his arms and hurled you to the dance floor.

Hours passed by since Bucky confronted you on the balcony – including a five-course dinner, several intoxicated speeches, and an overenthusiastic light show courteous of Stark’s latest suit. Every so often, your gaze would flicker over to his as he stood at the bar, alone, and the smile on your face would fade just enough so it didn’t touch your eyes. Bucky couldn’t help the pit of shame that gathered in his stomach in response.

It wasn’t until you excused yourself to the restroom, Lanning following quickly behind in tow, that Bucky finally resided to go home. He could subject himself to watching you flirt with another man, to see your arms around his waist and his lips dangerously close to your own, but Bucky wasn't sure he’d survive if he saw you walk back into the gala with a few hairs out of place, a wrinkle in your dress, and a flush upon your skin.

Bucky didn’t bother with goodbyes and quickly made his way to the coat room. As he approached, a young woman was staring down at her phone from behind the counter, waves of thick, black hair falling down into her face. Bucky cleared his throat.

She lifted her head, bright red lipstick curving up in a shy smile. She was pretty, Bucky thought. The kind of pretty that maybe if his chest didn’t feel so tight, so ripped at the seams, that maybe he could have convinced himself to find distraction in a woman like her.

“Heading out so soon, handsome?” she drawled, eyes unabashedly trailing down his body as she slipped the coat number from his hands. Bucky held his breath. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him. It left him feeling unnerved. Exposed.

He nodded. “Yeah. These things have never been my—”

Bucky paused upon catching Lanning’s voice echo from down the hall. He narrowed his eyes, taking a step back as he turned his head in search of you. The coat check girl raised an eyebrow at him, setting his overcoat on the table.

“I’ll, uh... I’ll be right back,” Bucky mumbled as he turned down the hall without sparing a glance over his shoulder. He followed the sound of Lanning’s voice down the hall, soon recognizing the familiar click of your heels, but... he counted more than two heavy set pairs behind you. Men's shoes.

He turned the hallway to find his suspicions correct. Lanning, along with an unknown man in a suit, trailed behind you. Bucky clenched his fists.

“You’re about to owe me a hundred bucks, Mathews,” Lanning snickered under his breath, bumping the fist of an agent Bucky had only ever seen in passing. The two of them watched as you pushed open the door to the restroom and Bucky realized suddenly that you’d hadn’t expected he’d follow you.

“Nailing the leftovers of the Winter Soldier?” Mathews smirked, his arrogant grin staring at the closed door behind you. “Now that is worth a star on the fucking Wall of Valor. Bravest man I know.”

Lanning burst into laughter as he stepped closer to the door, his hand on the knob, and it left a sickening feeling in Bucky’s stomach. “Can't believe I almost turned down this bet! Best hundred you’re ever gonna spend, my friend.”

It had been years since the Winter Soldier occupied Buck’s mind, since something else took over and rendered him a passenger to a primal instinct at the wheel, but as the latch clicked on the restroom door, Bucky snapped.

A blinding rage tore through him. Red and hot. Scalding to the surface and tearing through his nerves.

Bucky barely felt the break in his knuckles as he uppercut Mathews on his way to Lanning. Wide eyes turned in his direction and even as Lanning’s hands came up to his side in defense, the silver reflection of Bucky’s left hand curled into Lanning’s collar and yanked him away from the door. Bucky shoved him into the open hallway, a single right hook to his jawline and blood spewed onto the carpet as he fell to the ground in a heap next to his friend.

But Bucky wasn’t done with him.

“Fuck, man! Get the hell off of me!”

Lanning withered on the floor as Bucky crawled over him, holding him down with the strength of vibranium, his right hand curled into a fist and ready to swing. Lanning’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t! Don’t!” he begged, doing his best to shield his face, though it did little use. “I’m sorry, okay?! You were done with her! I thought she was fair game!”

If Bucky had any control, he might have told Lanning that you weren’t a prize to be won. He might have threatened him within an inch of his life if he so much as looked at you again. He might have told Lanning that you’d believed in him, that you’d trusted that he was a good man despite the rumors and despite his reputation, and he’d ruined his chance at the one good thing that would ever happen in his sad, pathetic life.

But Bucky didn’t have control, not when it came to you, and instead, his fist met Lanning’s face again and again until Lanning no longer squirmed under his hold, until a crowd had started to form at the edge of the hall, until Lanning slumped limp, until blood coated his hand, until he heard your voice calling to him over the ringing in his ears.

“Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

He froze, fist held high, as he turned in search of you.

He expected fear in your eyes, for you to be ashamed of him or frightened of the fresh blood dripping from his knuckles. Instead, you knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sank into it, a familiar feeling, as it grounded him and pulled him back into his body.

“Come with me,” you told him, glancing over at the sea of guests Sam was attempting to redirect back to the ballroom. Hushed whispers grew louder as the flash of cameras blinded him, curious stares trying to catch a glimpse of the unhinged ex-war criminal they foolishly allowed to be a hero. He glanced up to find Steve rushing towards him, eyeing Lanning as he emitted a subtle groan – proof of life. Steve exchanged a knowing look with you that Bucky couldn’t read.

You tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket, smiling sweetly at him like you used to when the cover of moonlight swept over his room and he couldn’t quite remember was he was. “It’s alright, Bucky. Come on.”

Bucky nodded, slowly pulling himself up to his feet. He tried not to focus on your hand circled around the cold embrace of metal as you led him away from the scene. His vision started to come in a little clearer the further you took him away from the hushed whispers of the crowd. He could feel the pulsing in his right hand, the sting of open wounds on his knuckles, the pang of shame deep in his gut.

You didn’t say anything as you led him to the elevator, pressed the button for his floor and waited. A heavy inhale rose in your chest and you squeezed his hand – a nervous habit you hadn’t quite lost.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He knew he was staring, but you were here, holding his hand, and for the first time in months he felt like he was home again.

He didn’t need to ask where you were taking him. It was a route he was more than familiar with. After long, grueling missions, where he’d meet you in the landing dock, racing down the platform of the quinjet to meet you in his arms, you’d look him over for injuries. The superficial ones he could heal on his own, but it helped when you cleaned the wounds. He could have done it himself or walked the few extra steps to the med wing, but there was something about the way your hands danced over his skin, delicate, as if you were handling something precious.

You brought him to his room and closed the door behind you.

“Sit,” you ordered, pointing to his bed and Bucky did so without question.

He listened as you made your way to his bathroom, gathering the first aid kit still placed under the sink and soaked a washcloth in warm water. It was strange being back in this room with you, in a routine so familiar. He’d almost forgotten of the painful months in-between before you emerged from the bathroom with a frown upon your face.

You sighed as you sat down beside him, the weight of the bed dipping only enough to lean you against his thigh, drawing you a little closer as if even the mere inches between you were too much. Silently, you gestured for his hand and he slipped it into your own. Your hands were warm, like you’d been holding tight into fists, but they were just as he’d remembered. They’d fit so perfectly in his own.

He paid no mind to the sting of the alcohol as you worked, focusing entirely on the feeling of your hands, your fingertips, watching as a hair fell down into your face no matter how many times you tucked it behind your ear.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly, though you did not look up to meet his eye.

Bucky shook his head. “If you knew the things he said about you, you’d—”

“I heard him.” You pressed the warm cloth to his knuckles, bloodied as it stained the light blue color of the fabric. Dabbing at the open wounds, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to protect me, Bucky, especially not from men like Mark Lanning.”

You set the cloth down and began to wrap his knuckles in bandages. They’d be clean in a few days' time, settled over untouched skin, but you never liked to see him hurt. You’d wrap every wound, bandage every cut, if it would heal even seconds faster.

“I’d do anything for you," Bucky murmured quietly.

You stilled, holding your breath as if your heart might have skipped. Bucky watched you, certain of what he was hoping for, though as you clenched your jaw and shook your head, his whole body began to ache.

“You can’t say those things to me, Bucky,” you turned your head in an effort to keep him from seeing the tears as they burned in your eyes. You set his hand back on his thigh, pulling your own to cross protectively over your chest. You stood from the bed, the long flow of your dress swaying against your legs as you paced. “How am I supposed to move on if you’re standing by to knock out every guy that tries to do me wrong? How do I stop loving you?”

“You don’t.” The words spilled from his lips before he could stop them. It was selfish and perhaps it was cruel, but he begged. “Please— don’t.”

Bucky pushed himself to his feet, closing the space between you. Tears were wet on your cheeks as you watched him. You made no effort to push him away as he lifted his hand to the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbones to wipe the tears as they fell.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking in the effort. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, though you clung to him tighter, your hands gripping into the fabric of his suit. Bucky leaned in a kissed your temple, then your cheek, your forehead, and pulled you close enough to rest against his heartbeat. A rock lodged at the back of his throat, threatening to choke him before it consumed him whole. His guilt, his shame, his regret.

“Please forgive me,” he cried, tucking his nose to your hair, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo, something so familiar, so personal, it ached. “I should have given you a choice... but I was so afraid, Y/n. If something happened to you... I wouldn’t... I’d never...”

You pulled back, just enough to meet his eye. The warm touch of your hands rested delicately against his cheeks as you searched his eyes, a flicker of realization clicking as you drew the lines between his confession. You sighed and watched as it swept through your entire body. He could feel it in his hands against your spine.

“The enemies I have...” Bucky continued, “they could use you against me and... and I’d do anything to keep you safe, Y/n. Anything.”

“Including breaking my heart,” you realized, your thumb sliding over his lower lip as it trembled. He nodded, tears slipping to his cheeks. He’d held it in for so long, at the simple touch of your hands to his face, he was falling apart at the seams.

Your hands trembled as you parted your lips. “Do you... Do you still love me?”

Bucky pulled back, stunned at the waver of uncertainty in your voice. As he scanned your face to find your question was sincere, he exhaled a heavy breath, tugging you back against him with a kiss to your forehead.

“I never stopped,” he confessed. “Not for a moment.”

The relief was evident in your body as you melted against him. He didn’t know how long you stood there with him, wrapped in his arms, his fingers dancing along the open back of your dress and the edges of shimmering red fabric. It was in your touch that he found himself on solid ground again, your arms crossed around his shoulders. He pressed his nose to your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, your lotion, until his knees felt weak.

“Let me fix this,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. He held onto you tighter, afraid to let go, afraid your answer may be ‘no.’ “Let me make this right, sweetheart. Please. I... I made a mistake. I was wrong to have ended things between us. I was just so terrified they’d hurt you as way to get to me and I couldn’t take it. Please, don’t leave me.”

He couldn’t lift his face from the crook of your neck and you didn’t attempt to pull away. Instead, he felt your fingers gently rake through the hair, drawing shivers in their wake, then, palms cupping at the nape of his neck. Your breath was warm to his ear as you handled him with the kind of care he hadn’t known in decades.

“What about your enemies? What about Hydra?”

He could feel your hesitancy as you held your breath.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, his voice wavering. “I’m still scared out of my damn mind. I’m still terrified that this is just me being selfish, that I could get you killed just for loving you but... I can’t do this anymore, Y/n. I can’t be without you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you – to keep you safe. I’ll do anything.”

He felt the slight tug on his collar as you pulled him to look at you, putting only enough space between you to meet his eye. Your lower lip was swollen, like you’d been chewing on the edges, and there was a lingering hope reflecting against your iris.

“You’ll take the risk?” you said.

“Only if you ask me to.” Bucky clenched his jaw as a wave of nausea filled guilt swept through him. “I can’t make this decision for you. I know that now. I love you and I’d give the world to you if I could but... it’s your life, honey. Your choice.”

Bucky dropped his gaze, preparing himself. He tried to hold his breath but found his chest was too tight, like an anvil sat upon his ribs. He’d done too much damage for you to take him back now. There was nothing he could offer in repentance. Even if you agreed, your consolation prize would be a life tied to a man with demons on his back, your safety at constant risk. It wasn’t an offer he’d take if he were in your shoes. His love, while loyal and unconditional to the bone, was not enough.

“Okay.”

It was all you said. Bucky raised an eyebrow, not understanding.

Then, your lips curved at the edges – soft, almost too subtle to notice – and you were smiling at him. You pressed in closer until your lips grazed against his cheek, over faded scars and the bristled shadow on his jaw.

“I will always choose you, Bucky,” you said with such certainty that Bucky’s heart stilled in his chest. “I knew who you were when we met. I’ve never been blind to the danger of being with you but... it’s worth it to me. You’re worth it.”

Bucky swallowed. If he wasn’t holding you in his arms, he wondered if he might float up into space, or sink down beneath the surface of the earth. It didn’t seem possible that you could weigh all that danger, the baggage of being with him, and choose to love him anyway.

“Promise me – right now – that you won’t push me away like that again.” You guided him to meet your eye, hands pressed firmly to the sides of his face. “Promise me that as long as you love me, you’ll be mine. Because I’m yours, Bucky. I’ve always been yours.”

“I promise.” It came out breathy and aching, but he meant it.

When you kissed him again, it was like taking his first breath of air after months underwater; sinking deeper and deeper through the currents, his lungs filled with saltwater, his skin cut by the weeds, until you pulled him to the surface with the warmth of the sun on his face.

He could feel the relief in the way your lips moved on his, how you’d ached for this the way that he had for months. It was familiar and safe and exactly where he was meant to be.

---

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