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maritzadior · 2 months ago

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fuuuuuck 😭❤️❤️ como lo quiero 😭❤️❤️

At Your Call

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: No matter when or where, Bucky will always be there at your call.

WC: ~300

Content(s): a sprinkle of angst. hurt/comfort. happy ending.

Prompt: “You came?” — “You called.”

a/n: Big thanks to my lovely Sydney @buck-star for sending me some inspiration to combat this writer’s block 📝✨ Love ya lots!!! 🥹🩷🩷 I also incorporated a little line I wrote in a community post a while ago, so for those of you that know it I can't wait to see if you spot it!! Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || main masterlist ♡

“You came?”

“You called.”

Bucky answers your question with a certainty that squeezes at your chest. His expression reflects nothing less of an always and an of course. You called so of course he showed up. Nothing and no one would ever stop him from always showing up for you.

It didn’t matter that your call was accidental and happened after too many shots from a night out with your friends. It didn’t matter that all you could remember from the call was drunkenly confessing how much you missed him and how angry you were that he let you walk away. The fight, the petty arguments, the heartbreak—it all didn’t matter now.

He still showed up because you reached out to him.

When he responded with a shaky and almost breathless I miss you over the phone—it was like, all at once, the intricate woven fabric of your lifelines were pleading to be tethered to one another once more.

So, naturally, there is no hesitance left in you when you pull the door open wide enough for him to come inside and away from the pouring rain. Despite the droplets that cling to his jacket and hair, there is no hesitance in ambushing him with a tight embrace as soon as the door closes. And there is no hesitance in him as he wraps his arms tightly around you and holds you against his chest like you aren’t meant to be anywhere else but in his arms.

In the quiet of your home, there’s a gentle shift in the air. It's like finding that final puzzle piece that completes it all after having lost it in the shuffle of everyday life. That feeling leads you both to your bedroom—where Bucky doesn’t let you go as you settle into your bed—holding each other close as the tears start to fall. The heartbreak of each other’s absence present in every teardrop.

He kisses the top of your head with a tenderness that warms your chest. It spreads throughout you with a type of comfort you longed for from the moment you walked away. When he whispers how much he loves you and how everything will be okay—you believe him.

You found your way to each other again.

Everything will be okay.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine

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maritzadior · 2 months ago

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LO QUIERO PARA MI ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

As Sweet As Chocolate

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: As the deadline approaches for the town's children's Easter picnic, the pressure is on for you to finish the floral arrangement orders for it. After many failed attempts of trying to make them look perfect, you're at your wits end. Thankfully, Bucky is there to help in more ways than one.

WC: 2.1k

Content(s): silly fun / lots of fluff / biker bucky being a sweet menace / language that can be perceived as suggestive, but it's all soft / established nickname -> tulip

Prompt: “I’m not sure if this looks like a rabbit.”

a/n: Me writing again?? 🫢 Who am I?? 👀 This is for my sweet Sydney's @buck-star Easter Special writing event! As always, anything from the biker's tulip universe is written as a standalone piece, and I will link below the masterlist in case you want to read more of these two. For those of you that follow the story, you can place this fic a year or so after the events of Tulip. However, there is no spoilers for the main story, so no worries on that part! Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

the biker's tulip ♡ || bucky masterlist ♡

“I’m not sure if this looks like a rabbit…” You grumble, stepping back to eye the floral arrangement on the counter critically. Bucky, beside you, pops another mini chocolate egg into his mouth before turning to look at it, his attention previously on the array of candy bags scattered across the counter in your shop. At the sight of your attempt at a floral rabbit, he freezes, chewing the chocolate slowly as he tries to find the right thing to say.

You spot the way the corner of his lip twitches with a ghost of a smirk, and his eyes twinkle with amusement, which could only mean a cheeky comment is soon to follow. You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes as they lock with his, “Think real hard about what you say next, honey. I’m not above telling Sam you thought it through and you actually do want to be the Easter Bunny for the children’s picnic this weekend.”

His amusement falters for a second, “You wouldn’t do that to me. Ya love me too much to see me suffer.” Your eyes dart to the dwindling excuse of a floral rabbit and then back to him, not saying a word, and yet your eyes warn him to proceed with caution. Bucky swallows the chocolate slowly, holding back the mirth that threatens to spill out. He gives you a boyish grin before he replies, “I think it looks great, sweetheart.”

The whole situation is laughable, really. If you hadn’t been trying to get the flowers to look like a rabbit for the past three days, you would be cracking a joke or two with your boyfriend without a problem. However, with the children’s picnic only a couple of days away, the pressure is on, and every time you don’t get it right, your frustration only builds. And with all of the other orders you’ve had this week—it’s a miracle you haven’t crumbled.

“No, it doesn’t…Now you're just lying to me,” you sigh, a pout forming on your lips. The rabbit has a head way too big for its body, and a blended floral mess of limbs—since you can’t seem to get the flowers to cooperate with you. Bucky’s gaze softens when he realizes the rabbit situation is genuinely upsetting you. He doesn’t like seeing you like this. It makes him want to do everything he can to see you smile again. He knows how hard you’ve been working all week in preparation for the picnic, and he’s done everything he can to help you out. Seeing you like this, though, makes him wish he had done more.

Bucky takes a second to collect his thoughts and realizes there’s a way he can help, but first, he wants to wipe that pout off your lips. He reaches out to gently pry your arms from your chest to uncross them and pull you into him, “C’mere and let me kiss it all better.”

“Bucky, I don’t think that will—” He cuts your whine short with a kiss as sweet as the chocolate he was snacking on previously. There’s something about the way that Bucky kisses you that gives you the same bubbly in the clouds feeling as if it were the very first time all over again. You find yourself melting into it and him instantly when his arms wrap around you, cradling you against his chest like you are the most precious thing in this world. Your hands rest on his chest as his settle on the back of your neck.

A kiss wouldn’t fix your rabbit problem, but it sure is making you feel so much better.

Bucky pulls away ever so slightly to catch the way your features brighten from the kiss, a smile making its way back to your face.

“Better?”

“One more and I think I’ll be okay.”

Bucky laughs in delight at your request and obliges you happily. You could ask for a million kisses and he’d give you all of them, counting them off one by one to make sure he didn’t miss a single one. His lips are on yours again, and this time, you let yourself get completely lost in them.

When you finally pull away, Bucky lowers his hands to settle on your hips. He gives them a light squeeze as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. “The rabbit’s really not that bad, Tulip. It just needs a little more shapin’ is all. Can I try somethin’?” To your knowledge, Bucky has never made a floral arrangement before, so you don’t know how much help your biker boyfriend can be, and yet you don’t hesitate to agree to have him lend you a hand. You’re desperate at this point, and if Bucky wants to try something out, who are you to say no?

Bucky gives your hips another light squeeze before he sets his attention on the rabbit predicament. He gives it a thoughtful inspection, his face scrunching in that endearing way you love that he always does whenever he’s thinking through something. A minute or so passes before he brings the arrangement closer and starts to add and take away flowers in whatever way he sees fit.

You watch him in fond curiosity as he works at the petals and stems with a delicacy so rare to others, but second nature for him when it comes to you. You feel it daily with all the little things he does to show you how much he cares. From wrapping a scarf around you when the temperature drops so you don’t catch a cold, to holding you tightly when you cry, tucking your head into the crook of his neck where you can let your emotions spill out freely. From the moment you wake up to the feeling of his fingertips gently stirring you awake, to the moment you call it a night and feel his fingertips dance along your skin to wish you a proper goodnight.

Those hands of his that have been roughened throughout the years by hardships have done nothing but worship you. It’s almost hard to believe they can do anything but that.

By the time Bucky is done with the arrangement, you are left in awe. You know firsthand how skilled Bucky is with his hands. You’ve seen him fix cars and his bike like it was a walk in the park more times than you can count. He’s done all the handiwork in your shop from the moment you met him. This, however, was something else; this was art. It was almost as if the flowers were made of clay, and he was able to sculpt them to his ideal vision.

How had he made it look so easy?

“Where did you learn how to do that?” You ask softly, gently touching the white petals of the arrangement as if one wrong move could ruin them.

Bucky shrugs like it's no big deal, “It’s nothin’ special—arts and crafts stuff as a kid.”

“That’s more than just ‘arts and crafts’, Bucky.”

He takes a step back, leaving enough space to pull you back into his chest, this time with your back to it, so that he can rest his head gently on top of yours. He wraps his arms around your middle before letting out a content sigh. Bucky has a habit of keeping you close—like you’d disappear if he didn’t. And considering you almost did once…that fear still lingers deep within his heart, no matter how many times he tries to smother it out. You settle against his chest, laying your hands on his and softly drawing circles on them with your thumbs.

“My Ma, she used to love paintin’. My old man had a room in the house set up just for her art. I used to sneak in there as a kid and mess around with anythin’ I could get my hands on. When my Ma caught me, I thought she’d bite my head off,” he chuckles softly as he reminisces, the deep rumble felt against your back, “But she didn’t. Instead, she put a brush in my hand and taught me how to use it. I wasn’t any good at it at first, but my Ma kept teachin’ me new techniques until eventually I was doin’ just fine on my own. Never did anything with it, though. I dropped the brushes sometime in high school when I got into boxin’.”

You listened to Bucky’s story with an appreciative heart. The puzzle pieces of his past click together more wholly every time he tells you another story. Bucky is better about opening up to you lately, but you know it's still hard for him sometimes. Even after spilling some of his darkest thoughts to you—his darkest secrets—it still takes him some effort to dig into his heart and share bits of his past. So whenever he does, you hold onto every word that ultimately brings you closer to him.

You think back to the few times you’ve visited his childhood home. “Does your mom still have her paintings?” You can’t see his face, but you can feel the way his head tilts above yours. “She does. She’s kept ‘em in the attic ever since my old man passed. Has some of mine up there too.” Your heart aches when you’re reminded of his family’s loss, once again realizing just how much it has dimmed their lives.

“Promise to let me see yours one day?” There’s no expectation in your tone, just a soft request. Bucky hums warmly in return, “Course, Tulip. They’re nothin’ special though, so don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.” You shake your head softly, careful not to disturb his position, “Don’t say that, of course they are, you painted them. That makes them special to me.”

He hugs you a little tighter in response.

In the comfortable silence that follows, you find yourself staring at the wall adjacent to the entrance to your shop. An idea pops into your head when you notice the floral mural your aunt painted a year ago is chipping in various places.

“Do you do any painting these days?” You turn in his arms carefully when you ask the question. Your eyes peering up at him with a proposal silently swimming in them. His beautiful blues glimmer with curiosity as he shakes his head, “Not really. I helped Steve paint a few designs on the cars at his shop, but that's it. Why?”

“I think the mural is past due on being replaced, wouldn’t you agree?” You ask as you lightly tug at the edges of his leather jacket, motioning to the mural with a nod of your head. Tugging at his clothes is a habit you developed whenever you want to ask him for something. You’re still not used to asking Bucky for things, even after he’s made it very clear he’d move mountains for you if he could. Even so, your nerves get the better of you every time.

He finds your little habit endearing, so as soon as he feels you playing with his jacket, his features soften. “Sweetheart, I haven’t done that in a long time. I’d mess up your pretty shop.” He’s not outright saying no, but you still find yourself shaking your head at his words. “No, you wouldn’t, honey. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Bucky. I just thought it would be nice to have a bit of you in this place.” You shrug it off, not wanting to make him feel pressured.

He swipes affectionately at your nose with his pointer finger, not able to hold back a smile. “You know I can’t say no to ya, Tulip. ’m a bit rusty though, pretty girl, you gotta give me some time to practice before I get to paintin’ somethin’ on your shop walls.”

“There’s no rush, honey. We’ve got all the time in the world,” you assure him, reaching down to lace your fingers with his.

“Damn right, sweetheart,” he punctuates his sentence with a tender kiss to the top of your head. After everything the two of you have been through to finally be together like this—at peace—it really feels like you have the rest of your lives to live and love.

You don’t want to ruin the moment, but the pressure of the deadline you have to meet starts to creep its way back onto your shoulders to weigh you down. Your expression turns sheepish as you speak, “Is this a bad time to bring up that I need four more of those rabbits done?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, “As long as I don’t have to put on that damn bunny suit—all make as many of ‘em as you need.”

“Deal.”

a/n: my lovelies... if you've made it this far... what should Bucky paint on your shop wall? 👀 🩷🩷 also thank you for reading and love you all lots!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Bucky's Tulips: @chrissisheadisinclouds @hzdhrtss @marvelstoriesepic @almosttoopizza @emlovesfictionalcharacters @hisredheadedgoddess28 @avengersfan25 @bwbatta @buckysversion @danzer8705 @themurdockverse @rnurse-kole @oldhabitscreaming @nameless-ken @lomlbuckybarnes @calwitch @violetpassionfruit @marvelqts @squeezyvalkyrie @cephert-t @homiesexual-or-homosexual

*taglist for The Biker's Tulip Collection, you can always contact me to be added ♡

#thebikerstulip #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky fanfiction #bucky oneshot

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maritzadior · 2 months ago

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SEBASTIAN STAN | vanity fair 2025

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maritzadior · 2 months ago

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sanctuary | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1.1k

summary: bucky is worried about you when you’re overworking yourself

cw: fluff, reader is a newly recruited avenger, reader is exhausted, please don’t read too much into this — definitely not self indulgent!!

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you call back shakily, not slowing. Punch after punch after punch gets thrown at the poor bag hung from the ceiling.

Bucky observes quietly as he leans against the wall of the training room. You’re dripping in sweat, though it looks like some kind of elixir in the moonlight. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

“So should you.”

He quirks a lip upward. You’re stubborn, just like him. “I don’t have to work a 9 to 5 tomorrow.”

You cast him a glaring glance. “Working a 9 to 5 has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh yeah?” he pushes himself off the wall, crossed arms falling to his sides as he steps towards you. “So staying up late and training, waking up in the wee hours of the morning to study — none of this has anything to do with the fact that you’re working eight hours tomorrow?”

You don’t reply.

Bucky was worried about you, though he hated to admit it.

He saw you even when you didn’t think he did. You’re gone all morning for school or work, and come back to training sessions with the Avengers. Then you spend whatever time you have left studying, exercising, or whatever else it is you’re doing with the lights in your room turned on all night. Not that he was checking.

Being a new recruit on the team did mean that you had to work hard, but Bucky was sure what you were doing had to have been way past the threshold of hard work; probably on the edge of burnout.

He keeps his gaze locked on you, watching the sweat flicking off with each fist you slam against the bag. It’s robotic, almost, except for how your punches get harsher with each passing second.

“You know you’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep at this?” Bucky tries again.

“I’m fine.” There’s a sharpness to your tone. It pinches his heart in all the wrong ways.

He comes closer until he’s right in front of you, until just a centimetre off would result in the punching bag slamming him in the guts. But he knows you wouldn’t do it.

“Y/n,” he starts again, softer.

Your punches start to slow. Less and less aggressive, till you’re glaring down at your gloves and the punching bag is left bobbing with the momentum.

“I said I’m fine.”

Bucky’s heart squeezes at how defeated you sound. Dead, almost.

He steps closer yet, and he can see it. The bags under your eyes, chapped lips and droopy eyelids. You’re exhausted. “You’re not fine, doll. You’re overworking yourself.”

Your eyebrows bunch up at his words. You continue to stare downwards, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He has to resist the urge to cup your cheek and gently pull it free. Instead, he settles on resting his hand on your arm.

“I…” you mutter, tensing up for a moment before relaxing into his touch. “I’m not overworking myself. I’m doing what I have to do.”

You hardly look like you believe it yourself. Bucky sighs.

“You’re doing much more than that, doll. You’re always working. Do you ever rest?”

You frown. “But I can handle it.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Look at yourself.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m ugly?”

Bucky snorts. “You’re far from ugly, you little minx. You know what I mean — you look dead tired, and I’m sure you feel it too.” He squeezes your elbow, not unkindly. “Do you even sleep?”

You shrug, and that’s all the response he needs.

Bucky exhales exasperatedly, moving his hand down to take your fingers in his. You make a noise of protest as he starts to drag you out the training room.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking me?”

He sighs when you claw your fingers into his arm, trying to gain friction and come to a stop.

“I —“ he wraps his metal arm around your waist, hoisting you up and ignoring your yelp, “— am taking you to bed; where you would’ve already been if you took proper care of yourself.”

You squawk, patting his back in a hopeless attempt to be released. “Put me down!”

“Nope.”

“Bucky!”

“Yes?”

“Put. Me. Down.”

“No. If you’re not going to rest, I’m going to make you.”

You groan.

His lips curve into a small smile when you finally stop protesting, your head coming down defeatedly to rest on his shoulder. He carries you up the stairs and into your room.

Bucky lays you down with all the gentility he can muster, which is surprisingly a lot. You mutter a begrudging thanks and instinctively crawl under the covers.

He immediately spots your phone on the nightstand. He takes it before you can, holding it up to your face to unlock it.

You grimace. “What are you doing?”

He squints at the tiny screen, fingers poking here and there. “Turning off all your alarms.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“You also have off-days,” he mutters, waving you off and putting the device where you can’t reach.

You sigh for what must’ve been the hundredth time that day, rubbing your forehead frustratedly. Bucky softens.

He comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling at the petulant look you were giving him. Something in him stirred at the sight; you looked so childlike, so innocent. The need to protect you was strong.

“Listen,” he starts gently. “Like I said before, you need rest, okay? Just — try not to think about work, or school, or anything tonight. Relax.”

You exhale, some tension slowly leaving your features. You seem to be contemplating what to say, maybe whether to ask him if he could reschedule your shift for you, talk to your professors about your absence. Bucky was ready to say yes, yes I’ll do anything you want me to. Yes, I’ll do it because it’s you.

You look up at him nervously. “Am I gonna be okay?”

Bucky opens his mouth. He blinks and shuts it.

He rakes his fingers through his hair with a soft sigh and nods slowly. “Yeah, doll. Yeah, you’re gonna be okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You stay quiet for a moment before nodding, letting yourself sink fully into the mattress. He smiles at the sight.

“Goodnight.” Bucky stands up.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back. He watches as you tug the covers up to your chin, eyes fluttering shut.

He makes his way across the room.

“Bucky?”

He hums in response, turning back around.

“Thank you.”