nexiva

[nexiva]

....yep. AND I STAND BY IT FOR HIM-

[nexiva]

THE BEST GRANDPAS IN TOWN ARE BACK I HOPED FOR TIMES LIKE THIS YESSSS

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 10

Bucky x reader

Warnings: swearing, a bit of fluff, nothing particular in this part

Summary: Y/N and Bucky got back to the compound and after some pretty INTENSE mission they can’t stand each other once again… or can they?

A/N: So sorry for the delay guys but my master degree won’t write itself (unfortunately). Hope you all enjoy this part! Also please let me know if I had tagged You properly 💃

Masterlist

The compound was quieter than usual when we arrived, but maybe that was just my perception. Everything felt muted, dulled by the thick fog of emotions I was trying desperately to suppress. The moment I stepped off the quinjet, I felt the weight of Bucky’s presence beside me like an anchor, dragging me down into a sea of confusion, guilt, and something else I couldn’t quite name.

I hadn’t looked at him once during the flight. Not really. My eyes had traced the outline of his form, registered the way his shoulders tensed, the way his hands curled into fists and then relaxed. But I hadn’t let myself actually see him, hadn’t let myself meet those ocean-blue eyes that held a storm I wasn’t ready to weather.

And now, as we walked through the halls of the Avengers Compound, the silence between us was deafening.

The others were waiting. Steve, Natasha, Clint—hell, even Tony was there, arms crossed over his chest, an expectant look on his face. And they were all staring. Staring at me, staring at Bucky, then back at me. Wondering. I could see it in their faces, the questions they wanted to ask but weren’t sure how.

Steve took a cautious step forward. “What happened out there?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came. What was I supposed to say? That I had been turned into a mindless weapon? That Hydra’s - or Nexus or whoever the fuck it was - programming still clung to me like a ghostly whisper, threatening to resurface at any moment? That I had seen the horror in Bucky’s eyes when he realized I was just like him?

Bucky shifted beside me, his stance stiff, unreadable. He wasn’t going to answer either. Of course he wasn’t. He didn’t owe them an explanation. And neither did I.

Before the silence could stretch any longer, Fury strode into the room. His presence alone was enough to steal the air from my lungs, but the look in his eyes? That was what set my blood on fire.

“Walk with me,” he said, his voice calm, controlled. Like he wasn’t the reason my world had just shattered.

I followed him because I had to, my boots echoing against the polished floor as we turned down a corridor away from the others. Away from Bucky.

The second the door shut behind us, I spun on my heel. “You knew.”

Fury sighed. “I didn’t.”

“Bullshit.” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “You knew Nexus - just like Hydra - had a list of activation phrases. You knew they experimented on others besides Bucky. You had access to my file—don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “I knew they tried to replicate the programming. I didn’t know it worked. No one ever saw the living example. Not until now.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Well, congratulations. You found out the hard way.”

Fury exhaled slowly, folding his arms. “I get that you’re pissed. You have every right to be. But you need to focus on what comes next.”

“What comes next?” My hands clenched at my sides. “What comes next is me trying to live with the fact that my mind isn’t my own. That I could be turned into a weapon at any moment, and no one—not even me—would be able to stop it.”

“Not if we figure out a way to fix it.”

His words hung in the air between us, but I had no faith in them. None at all.

I stormed out before he could say anything else. Before the rational part of my brain could take over and remind me that Fury wasn’t the real villain here. That he wasn’t the one who had done this to me. But I needed someone to blame, and right now, he was the easiest target.

By the time I returned to the common area, the others had dispersed. All except Bucky.

He was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor like it held all the answers he couldn’t find. I hesitated in the doorway, some part of me hoping—foolishly—that he would look up. That he would say something. Anything.

But he didn’t.

And I couldn’t.

So I walked past him, each step heavier than the last.

I felt his eyes on me then, a burning sensation against my back, but I didn’t turn around.

We didn’t speak.

We didn’t even acknowledge each other.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

——————————————————————————

I hadn’t seen him since returning to the compound. No contact. We didn’t even cross paths. What are the odds? Not once had I spared a thought for what had happened on that mission. That cursed mission. I never thought about how I had turned into a mindless monster. I never thought about how I could turn into one again at any moment, and I definitely never thought about how Bucky and I fucked. Wow. Even thinking that in my head felt like some messed-up nightmare. Did he think about it? I wonder if it was good for him. Ok, what the actual fuck? I don’t give a shit. I need to get out of here. I need to leave this room, do something useful. Maybe Natasha needs help with something? Worth a shot.

I was just closing the door behind me when, of course, I ran into him. He fucking lives right next door. We locked eyes, just for a second. He had been coming out of his room too. And then I bolted for the elevator. Holy shit, I ran like a psycho. What the hell is going on? Are we back to square one? Are we going to avoid each other like the plague again? Does he even remember any of it? Doesn’t matter. I don’t have the energy to be the bigger person and extend the olive branch. Besides, nothing has really changed. I still hated him. But I was slowly starting to forget why. Not literally, of course. Fuck that bastard.

Sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder: What if I hadn’t been fully aware of what was going on and it was me who had killed my sister?

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Sam’s voice.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up!” Damn it, Sam. He always has perfect timing.

“You didn’t even come to say hi after the mission,” he chuckled. I shot him a pointed look. I felt like tearing him apart.

“I’m sorry, sometimes I speak without thinking. I heard what happened. You have no idea how sorry I am.” My gaze softened. I really didn’t feel like talking about any of it. I just wanted to stop thinking about it.

“Look, I can tell you’re not in the mood to talk, but just know we’re here for you if you need support. None of us can turn back time, but trust me, we’ll get through it together.” Something inside me snapped, and I was suddenly filled with anger. I had so much support around me. Too bad I couldn’t see it.

"Well, they fixed him, right? So they can also fix me!" I said, full of bitterness.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, echoing through the dimly lit hallway. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there it was, hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

Somehow, Bucky was already there. When I saw his eyes… His expression was unreadable at first, but then something flickered behind his eyes—something sharp, bitter.

"Fixed?" His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the edge in it. He immediately got closer to us. Shit. I didn’t mean to sound like that.

I turned to face him fully. "I mean, you—" I hesitated, unsure how to say it without making it worse. "You were programmed. Brainwashed. And now you're… better." Yeah just like him I guess I knew how to get things worse than they already were.

His jaw clenched. He came even closer slowly, and even though he wasn’t trying to intimidate me, the weight of his presence was enough to make my pulse stutter. "You think they just flipped a switch and made it all go away?"

I swallowed. "Isn't that what happened?" Fuck just shut up. Where are these words coming from?

His laugh was humorless. "No. It’s not."

Bucky took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "You think Shuri waved some magic wand and suddenly I was free? It took months. Years. And even now, some days, I still wake up expecting to be someone else." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You don’t just get ‘fixed.’ You fight. Every single day. And some days, you lose."

I looked away, guilt pressing against my ribs. Of course it wasn’t that simple. I knew that.

“Buck, she didn’t mean it like tha-”

"So what do I do?" I cut Sam off, my voice barely above a whisper. Sam was just as much in a shock as I was. I don’t know if I wanted some kind of advice from him or what but it has already slipped out of my mouth.

Bucky studied me for a long moment, then said, "You start by accepting that this is going to be a war. One only you can fight." We just looked at each other completely forgetting that Wilson was in the room with us. I guess that last look was what sold us. Or sam spent some more time with my beloved black widow.

As Bucky turned and walked out of the room, the heavy silence settled back around us. The air felt thick with everything that had been left unsaid. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or frustrated that he left, but his absence didn’t make the tension any easier to handle. Instead, it seemed to magnify it.

Sam’s voice broke through the stillness, softer now. I started to walk away.

“Y/N, hold up a second.”

I stopped, but didn’t turn around right away. His tone—calm but probing—was enough to make my stomach tighten. I knew he was trying to navigate this carefully, trying not to step on any landmines, but I could tell he wasn’t going to let this go.

“Something happened between you two?” Sam asked, his voice steady, but with an edge of concern that I couldn’t ignore.

I was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer without making things worse. The last thing I wanted was to open up about what had happened on that mission. What Bucky and I had become. But Sam had always been observant, always able to sense when something was off, even when I was trying to bury it deep.

“No,” I said at first, but the word felt hollow, like it didn’t belong to me. I could feel the anger and frustration bubbling under my skin, and the more I held it back, the more it seemed to grow. “Nothing happened. It’s just... complicated.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Complicated? I don’t buy that, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you two interact, or… don’t interact, I guess. There’s something there. And I’m guessing it’s not just because of the mission. Something happened, didn’t it?”

I clenched my fists, but I didn’t look at him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk, it was just that I didn’t know how to put any of this into words. I didn’t know what had happened to us—what had happened to me. How could I explain this mess to someone who had no idea what it felt like to have your mind hijacked, to be turned into a weapon? To be turned into something else? It wasn’t just the mission; it was everything that had followed it. The things I couldn’t forget.

“Why does it matter?” I asked, not looking at him. “We’re both screwed up. We both have our demons. Why does it have to be something more?”

Sam sighed, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push any further. He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “Because I’m your friend, Y/N. And I can see something’s eating at you. And I’ve seen Bucky go through the same thing. Maybe you both need to talk about it. You know, for real.”

I felt the sharp pang of guilt in my chest. I hated that Sam could see through me, that he knew something was wrong even when I was doing everything in my power to hide it. But at the same time, his concern made me want to pull away, to shut him out. This was my fight. Not his.

“Sam, it’s not… It’s not something I can just talk about,” I said, my voice strained. “It’s too messy. Too much has happened, and I’m not even sure I’m ready to deal with it. Hell, I don’t even know where to start.”

Sam nodded, giving me the space I needed. He didn’t press me, but his gaze lingered on me, understanding but patient. “I get that. But when you’re ready, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

I nodded, but I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. Sam was right. I didn’t have to go through this alone. But in that moment, the idea of talking about it—of unpacking the chaos inside me—felt impossible. How could I explain it to someone else when I wasn’t sure I even understood it myself?

After a long pause, Sam gave me a small smile, one that was more comforting than it should’ve been. “Just don’t shut us out, okay? You’ve got a lot of people here who care about you. And even though it doesn’t seem like it, you don’t have to carry this all on your own.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I wasn’t ready to admit how much I wanted to let it all out, how much I wanted to find someone I could talk to. But that wasn’t something I could do yet. Not now. Not with everything still so raw.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sam nodded, but there was a trace of worry in his eyes. “Alright. Just... don’t wait too long, okay? You’re not the only one who’s been through hell. And we’re here to help you through it, even when it’s hard.”

I gave him a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll think about it.”

He gave me one last, thoughtful look before clapping me lightly on the back. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. I’m here when you need me.”

As Sam turned to leave, I stood there for a moment, alone in the hallway. The emptiness felt like a weight, suffocating in its silence. I wasn’t ready to face the truth of what had happened with Bucky, but Sam was right—there was something between us. Something unspoken, something buried deep. And sooner or later, I would have to confront it.

But for now, I just needed to breathe.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sunlight filtering in through the windows cast long shadows on the floor, making the space feel like it belonged to a different world. Everything was still—no conversations, no clattering of weapons or the hum of machinery. Just the faint scent of sweat and polished wood that seemed to hang in the air, a constant reminder of the hours spent training, perfecting moves, or escaping from memories that never seemed to leave.

I stood in front of the mirrors, my hands wrapped, gloves on, eyes fixed on the punching bag in front of me. The weight of everything—the mission, the conversations with Fury and Sam, the tension with Bucky—it all felt too heavy. I needed to let it out, channel it into something, anything, that could take away the feeling of drowning under my own thoughts.

“Alright, Y/N, let’s see what you’ve got today.”

I barely flinched when Natasha's voice cut through the silence. She had an uncanny ability to sneak up on people, especially when they were lost in their own world. Her presence was like a weight in the air—always steady, always knowing exactly when to show up. I didn't turn to face her right away. My mind was still tangled in a mess of confusion and anger that I couldn’t shake off.

"You're looking a little distracted this morning," Natasha continued, stepping closer. I could feel her eyes on me, even without looking. "Something on your mind?"

I shrugged, trying to mask the frustration building up inside me. "Nothing important."

Her laugh was low, teasing. "Right. So, nothing important is keeping you from landing a good punch? That must be a first."

I swung at the punching bag, my fist connecting with a satisfying thud, but the impact didn’t bring the release I was hoping for. The tension still clung to me, thick as fog. I felt Natasha's eyes on me, always perceptive, always reading between the lines.

"Sam told me about your little chat last night," she said, leaning casually against the wall. Her voice was light, but there was an edge to it that made me stiffen. I was in fact going to kill Sam for this. "He said you were pretty… tense. Something you want to share? Because, you know, we’re all friends here."

I froze mid-punch, my fist still hovering over the bag, and for a moment, I was tempted to walk away. But Natasha knew exactly what buttons to push. I could feel her watching me, waiting, expecting me to crack.

“Nothing to talk about,” I muttered, my jaw clenched as I resumed hitting the bag with more force than necessary. “Just… stuff. You know.”

“Stuff,” Natasha repeated, her voice laced with amusement. “Right. Because 'stuff' is exactly what’s been keeping you up at night, huh? You know, I’m not blind, Y/N. I saw the way you two were acting. You think I don’t notice?”

I swung harder, frustration building in my chest. “I don’t want to talk about it, Natasha. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Natasha said, her voice turning soft, but the teasing glint in her eyes remained. “You know, I’ve been through my fair share of complicated. Bucky’s not exactly an easy person to… forget, is he?”

The name felt like a punch to the gut. The images from that night, the mission, the way everything had spiraled out of control—they hit me all over again. But I refused to let it show. I wasn’t about to let her see me break.

“I don’t need you to psychoanalyze me, Nat,” I shot back, too quickly, my frustration leaking through the cracks in my control.

She didn’t flinch. “Oh, I don’t need to analyze you. I just need to get you to admit what you already know.”

“Which is?” I asked, turning to face her, my fists still clenched.

Natasha took a few steps closer, her gaze never leaving mine. “That you’re scared,” she said, her voice quiet but intense. “Scared of what you did, scared of what you might do again. And scared of him.”

The words stung like a slap, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. It was too close to the truth. Too real. I was scared. Terrified, actually. But I wasn’t about to let her—let anyone—see that.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said, my voice tight. "I’m fine. Really."

Her gaze softened, but the smile never left her face. "You're not fine, Y/N. You don’t have to pretend with me. But… if you don’t want to talk about it, fine. Just don’t go hiding away, alright? We’ve all been through this, in our own way."

Before I could respond, the gym door burst open with a loud bang, and Tony Stark strolled in, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice loud and brash. “You’ve got some visitors. From Wakanda.”

@maryssong23 @lonelyghosts-stuff @greatenthusiasttidalwave @xjoaniex @buckysblondie @vikingqueen28

[nexiva]

Caplans Playlist Challenge

Rules:

tag me in the authors notes with the hashtag #CaplansPlaylistChallenge

Please tag the proper warnings before the fic

Please include a summary for your fic.

Can be ANY CHARACTER/FANDOM YOU'D LIKE!!

More than one person can write for the same prompts

If you’d like to write for more than one song, please make them separate fics

Can be however long you’d like the fic to be. But PLEASE use the readmore feature if over 400 words.

No deadlines, but please keep me updated!

also, please reblog this challenge for others to see!

Addicted to you - simple plan

Alone together fall out boy

Animals maroon 5

Ashes of Eden Breaking Benjamin 

Adore You Harry Styles

All of Me John Legend

Anti- Hero Taylor Swift

Attention Charlie Puth

--

Bad guy Billie Eilish 

Bad things Jace Everett

Bartender T-Pain

Bedchem Sabrina Carpenter

Before he cheats Carrie Underwood 

Before you go Lewis Capaldi 

Better than me hinder

--

Cardigan Taylor Swift

Car radio twenty one pilots 

Church fall out boy

Clumsy Fergie

Collide Howie Day

Come & get it Selena Gomez

Crazy Patsy Cline  

Criminal Fiona Apple 

--

Dancing on my Own Calum Scott

Dandelions Ruth B.

Deja vu Olivia Rodrigo  

Diary Tino Coury 

Dirty laundry Carrie underwood 

Dirty thoughts Chloe Adams

Drivers license Olivia rodrigo 

--

Easy on Adele 

Eh, Eh, (Nothing Else I Can Say) Lady Gaga

Empty Walls Serj Takien

End of Beginnings Djo 

Espresso Sabrina Carpenter

Every breath you take the police . 

--

Faint Linkin Park

Fall for you secondhand serenade

Fallin Alicia keys 

Falling Trevor Daniel

Fast car Tracy Chapman 

Feather Sabrina Carpenter

Flowers Miley Cyrus 

--

Ghost Justin Beiber

Give Me One Reason Tracy Chapman

Glimpse of us Joji

Good For You Olivia Rodrigo

Gone, Gone, Gone Phillip Phillips

--

Had Enough Breaking Benjamin

happier Olvia Rodrigo

Harder to Breathe Maroon 5

Heartbreak anniversary giveon 

Heaven Kane brown   

--

I fall apart post Malone 

I miss you blink 182

I see red everybody loves an outlaw 

I’m not the only one Sam smith  

I’m yours alessia cara 

--

Jealous nick jonas 

Juno Sabrina Carpenter

Just one yesterday fall out boy 

Just the way you are Bruno mars 

--

Keep Holding On Avril Lavigne 

The Kill 30 Seconds to Mars

Kiss From a Rose Seal

Kissing In Cars Pierce the Viel

Killer queen Queen 

--

The last of the real ones 

Leave the door open Bruno mars 

Leavin’ Jesse McCartney 

Like I can Sam smith

Lips of an angel hinder

Little do you know Alex & sierra 

--

Mama's broken heart Miranda lambert

Man down Rihanna

Misery Maroon 5

My Boo usher & Alicia key

--

Needed Me Rihanna 

Never gonna be alone Nickelback

New Rules Dua Lipa 

Not Over You Gavin DeGraw

--

Obsessed Mariah Carey

One Call Away Charlie Puth

One More Night Maroon 5

Our Song Taylor Swift

--

Paparazzi Lady Gaga

Picture KidRock & Sherry Crow 

PillowTalk Zayn Malik 

Please Don’t Leave Me Pink

--

Red Taylor Swift 

Remember the time Michael Jackson

Rolling in the deep Adele 

--

Say My Name Destiny’s Child

Say So Doja Cat 

She’s Got You Patsy Cline

Stay With Me Sam Smith

Smokin out the Window Bruno Mars 

Someone You Loved Lewis Capaldi

--

Take a Bow Rihanna

Take Me to Church Hozier

There’s Nothing Holdin Me Back Shawn Mendes

Too Good at Goodbyes Sam Smith

Trip Ella Mae

--

Unfaithful RIhanna

Unholy Sam smith

Unsteady X Ambassadors

Uptown Girl Billy Joel

--

Wait For You Elliot Yamin

Walk Me Home P!NK

Walkin After Midnight Patsy Cline

Want U Back Cher Lloyd

What a Man Gotta Do Jonas Brothers

What Ifs Kane Brown

Wolves Selena Gomex

Would You Go With Me? Josh Turner

--

You and Me Lifehouse

You Found Me The Fray

You Had Me @ Hello A Day to Remember

You Sang to Me Marc Anthony

You're Still the One Shania Twain

[nexiva]

Ok guys, I need to organize you all properly because I'm still not very good at it haha. If you want to be tagged in You Made Me Hate You, please leave a comment under this post. <33

[nexiva]

Happy bday to our favourite soldier 😎❤️

March 10th, 1917

[nexiva]

no cause we left him here so wtf happened

[nexiva]

😭

Nothing could've prepared me for this

[nexiva]

sam’s emergency contact everyone:

thunderbolts exclusive look

[nexiva]

“... there's something wrong.”

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 9

Bucky x reader

Warnings: smut (finally), NSFW, a lot of emotions, fighting, arguments, swearing

Summary: It is the day after the incident with Y/N. Bucky and Y/N got into another fight 😈

A/N: Wow my first ever written smut. I got to say it was really hard even though it’s not that long. I need to get better at describing sex scenes guys I know that 😎 also sory for the delay but school has started 😑but don’t you worry… we are barely in the middle of the story 🫡 enjoy!

Masterlist

The first thing I registered was pain. A dull, throbbing ache pressing against my skull, radiating down my spine. My limbs felt like lead, heavy and uncooperative as I stirred.

I inhaled sharply, the scent of antiseptic soap and crisp hotel linens filling my nose. The dim glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in golden light, casting long shadows across the walls. I blinked, my vision swimming as my mind struggled to orient itself.

Something was wrong.

Memories of last night flickered like a broken reel of film—fragments, disconnected and hazy. The ball. The mission. Sokolov. And then…nothing.

My fingers twitched against the sheets, a surge of unease creeping up my spine. My body felt foreign—sore in places that hadn’t been sore before. My knuckles stung, my muscles ached like I’d fought a battle I couldn’t remember.

A voice. Low, urgent, familiar.

I turned my head towards the sound, my breath catching as I saw Barnes standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. His back was rigid, shoulders squared, tension radiating from every inch of him.

“I don’t care what the fuck you thought would happen, Fury,” he growled, voice razor-sharp. “You didn’t tell me she was compromised.”

Compromised?

“What do you mean you didn’t know, how is that even-”

My stomach twisted. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, the movement sluggish and unsteady. Bucky’s free hand was clenched into a fist at his side, his jaw tight, eyes dark with something I couldn’t place.

“She attacked me,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more strained. “No hesitation. No recognition. The same fucking way I used to—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply.

The same way I used to…

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. My heart pounded against my ribs as the pieces slotted into place, slow and merciless. The scar behind my ear. Sokolov’s knowing smirk. The words—the words I didn’t even remember hearing.

And yet, I had obeyed them.

A cold, suffocating weight settled over me. My pulse roared in my ears. My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.

I had attacked Bucky. I had tried to kill him.

The realization left me reeling, a sharp, jagged wound in my chest. I forced myself to sit up fully, swallowing past the lump in my throat. My whole body trembled.

“Barnes,” I croaked, my voice hoarse.

He stiffened, slowly lowering the phone from his ear. I watched as he ended the call without another word, slipping the device into his pocket before turning to face me. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—

God, his eyes.

They were exhausted. Guarded. But underneath it all, there was something else. Something raw and painful and too damn familiar.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick, heavy with the weight of what had happened.

“What the hell happened last night?” I finally forced out. My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “You don’t remember.”

It wasn’t a question.

I shook my head. “Not after Sokolov invited us to his private quarters.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “He knew who we were. Knew who you were.” His gaze flickered to me, something like regret flashing across his features. “He said something. A set of words. The same ones Hydra used on me.”

I went still, nausea rolling through me in sickening waves.

“And I—” My voice cracked. “I responded? How, I mean what… How the fuck is that even possible?! What did Fury said? Let me talk to him. I want to speak with him right now!”

I was in such shock, I didn’t know where to start. Call Nick? Hearing their conversation, he didn’t know much either. So what was I supposed to do then? What the fuck happened, and how did it come to this? What did NEXUS do to me?

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, studying me like I was a puzzle he wasn’t sure how to solve. “You were gone, Y/N. Your eyes were empty. No hesitation. No mercy. Just a mission.”

I flinched.

The room felt too small, the air too thin. I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, that I couldn’t have—

But I knew better.

The scars NEXUS had left behind were deep. Deeper than I ever allowed myself to admit. And now, it was undeniable.

I was just like him.

Bucky must have seen the horror on my face because his own expression softened—just barely. “I had to knock you out,” he said quietly. “It was the only way to stop you.”

I nodded numbly, unable to find my voice.

A part of me had always feared this. That no matter how far I ran, no matter how much I fought to be something else, something better—I was still their toy. I was a kid. I couldn’t do much more back then right? Or maybe I just don’t remember it.

I sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky murmured.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Isn’t it?” My voice wavered. “I spent so long thinking I’d escaped them. That Fury saved me. That I wasn’t like you.” I met his gaze, something breaking inside of me. “But I am, aren’t I?”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “Don’t,” he said sharply.

“Don’t what? Face the truth?” My voice rose, frustration bubbling up in my chest. “I tried to kill you, Barnes.” My throat tightened. “What if you hadn’t stopped me? What if—”

“You think I don’t get it?!” His voice cut through mine, rough with barely contained emotion. “You think I haven’t spent years asking myself the same fucking questions?”

I fell silent, staring at him.

His hands clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven. “I know what it’s like to wake up and realize you’ve done something you can’t take back. To look at your hands and wonder if they’ll ever be clean.” His voice dropped lower. “I know what it’s like to hate yourself for something you had no control over.”

A lump formed in my throat. I hated how much sense he made. How much I wanted to believe him. I hated how much I still tried to isolate myself from him. I hated how he saved me. I hated how at that moment I was the freak. The monster. I hated him for being right. And I hated him for how much his eyes were filled with concern about me.

I inhaled sharply, forcing the words out. “How do you live with it?”

Bucky’s gaze softened, his voice quieter this time. “One day at a time.”

Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to steady my breathing.

One day at a time.

I wasn’t sure if I could do that.

But for now, it was all I had.

Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face. When he finally met my gaze, there was hesitation in his eyes—like he wasn’t sure how to say what needed to be said.

“We’re heading back to the Tower.”

I blinked. “What?”

He exhaled, shifting his weight. “We’re done here, Y/N. Fury’s already arranging for an extraction. We leave in an hour.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended, my pulse kicking up. “We still have a mission. Sokolov—”

“—is already three steps ahead of us,” Bucky cut in. “Again in case you were not listening. He knew who we were. He knew who you were. That means this op is compromised. We’re compromised.”

I clenched my jaw, anger flaring in my chest. “So what? We just tuck tail and run?”

“We regroup,” he corrected, voice tight. “We get answers first.”

I shook my head, shoving the covers off and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My whole body ached, but I forced myself to my feet. “No. We don’t have time for that. We finish what we started.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ll kill them for this.”

The words left my lips with a venom I barely recognized. A deep, burning rage coiled in my chest, thick and suffocating. Sokolov had turned me into his puppet. He had cracked open something inside me that I had fought so hard to bury. And I wanted him dead for it.

Bucky stepped closer, shaking his head. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking just fine.”

“The hell you are!” His voice rose, raw with frustration. “You were just fucking brainwashed, Y/L/N! You really think you’re ready to walk back into the lion’s den?”

“I don’t have a choice!” I shot back. “They did something to me. They still have a hold on me. And no one even knew this. Not even Fury. And I am not going to sit around and wait for it to happen again.”

“So what, you think killing them is gonna fix it?”

“Yes!” The word burst from me like a gunshot, my breath coming fast and shallow. “Because if I don’t end this now, they’ll keep coming back. They’ll keep proving that I’m not in control of my own fucking life and that they can take everything away from me again.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. “You are in control.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I attacked you.”

“And I stopped you.” His voice dropped lower, but it was no less intense. “Because I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it feels like. That urge to burn it all down, to erase every trace of what they did to you.”

I swallowed, my throat tight.

“But listen to me,” he continued, stepping even closer. “Killing them? It won’t make it go away. It won’t erase what happened. And it sure as hell won’t fix you.”

I hated how much I wanted to believe him. I hated how his words cut through the haze of anger, piercing something deeper inside me. Something raw and broken.

I clenched my fists. “I don’t need to be fucking fixed!”

Bucky’s eyes softened, just barely. “I know.”

The silence between us was thick, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. My pulse pounded in my ears. I hated this. I hated feeling weak. I hated that he was right.

And I hated him for knowing exactly what I was going through. Especially him. But now I wasn’t so sure that it was him who caused me the most pain.

Anger and frustration warred inside me, twisting into something ugly and desperate. My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed his collar, yanking him closer.

His hands immediately went to my wrists, not pushing me away, just holding me there. His breath was warm against my skin, his scent familiar, grounding. His gaze burned into mine, searching, waiting.

Something snapped.

I surged forward, crashing my lips against his.

Bucky froze for half a second—just long enough for me to question everything—before he kissed me back just as hard. His hands moved to my waist, gripping tight, like he needed this just as much as I did. Like we were both drowning, desperate for something real to hold onto.

The kiss was a battlefield. A war of anger and desperation, frustration and need. Teeth clashed, tongues fought for dominance. It was messy, raw, unrelenting.

I hated him.

I needed him.

I gasped against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled me closer, impossibly close. His grip on me was firm, grounding, keeping me from spiraling into the dark abyss clawing at the edges of my mind.

When we finally broke apart, our breaths were ragged, our foreheads pressed together. My chest heaved, my body burning. Bucky swallowed hard, his hands still on me.

Neither of us knew what to say. The terror in his eyes was even greater than in mine. He leaned slightly toward me, searching for approval. And he found it.

Our lips met again. This time, the kiss was even more intense.

The tension between us was suffocating. It has been for months, a constant push and pull, venom-laced words thrown like knives, glares sharp enough to cut. I fucking despise him—his arrogance, his brooding silence, the way he looks at me like I’m nothing but a thorn in his side.

But then? Bucky Barnes was pressed against me, his breath ragged, his body taut with something that feels dangerously close to surrender.

“Tell me to stop,” he growls, his voice like gravel, rough and unsteady. His metal fingers dig into my waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. Like he’s afraid I might slip away before he can make sense of this madness between us.

But I didn’t tell him to stop.

Instead, I gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down, crashing my mouth against his once more. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s war.

He groaned into the kiss, and I swallowed the sound, biting down on his bottom lip just to hear him hiss. His hands moved—one gripping the back of my neck, tilting my head just the way he wanted, the other pressing flat against my lower back, shoving my flush against him. Every inch of him is solid heat, coiled tension, and I hated that it made my stomach tighten with something dangerously close to need.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against my lips, his mouth trailing down my jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Always running your mouth, always getting under my skin—”

I shoved him back, just enough to look into his stormy blue eyes, both of us panting. “Right back at you, Barnes.”

Something flashed in his gaze—a challenge, a promise—before he surged forward, capturing my lips again. It’s even hungrier this time, rougher, like he’s trying to consume every angry word, every insult I have ever thrown at him. His hands roam, fingers gripping, tugging, pulling, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ruin or worship me.

My hands weren’t idle either. I fisted his hair, yanking his head back just enough to scrape my teeth against the strong line of his jaw, relishing in the way he shudders. His control is slipping, and fuck, I love watching him come undone.

Bucky let out a dark chuckle, his fingers tightening on my neck, his thigh slipping between mine as he shoved me back against the wall. His voice is low, dangerous, dripping with something possessive. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You’ve been looking at me like you wanted to tear me apart since day one.”

I shivered, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “Then do it.”

And so I did—dragging him back to me, bruising kisses and desperate touches, both of us losing ourselves in this battle where neither of us wins, but neither of us wants to stop fighting.

I wanted to take control. I tried—unsuccessfully—to pin him against the wall. Barnes only chuckled before gripping my thighs and lifting me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. I kept forgetting just how far I still had to go to reach Winter Soldier’s level. Fuck him.

He threw me onto the bed and, in one swift motion, pulled his shirt over his head. Fuck. His broad shoulders and chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. The way his scars merged into the metal of his arm fascinated me. But before I could think about it for longer, Barnes was already on top of me.

His right hand moved slowly—first over my breasts, then down my stomach, my thighs. And finally, he slipped his fingers beneath my panties. I gasped, pleasure shooting through me. Before any other sound could escape my lips, he crushed his mouth against mine again.

His fingers moved faster, rubbing me just right. Fuck, it felt good. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, as if he had known me—known my body—forever. I needed him. Right now. Nothing else mattered. No thoughts, no emotions, only desire.

As if he could read my mind, I felt his body shift. And then—I felt him. His thick, throbbing cock stretching me open.

"Oh my god," I cried out. My eyes rolled back, head pressing harder against the edge of the bed. My nails dug into his back as I pulled him closer.

I hated him. I wanted him.

We moved together like we had done this a thousand times before. Somehow, he knew exactly what I needed, exactly how to push me further. God knows how the fuck he knew that. He started fucking me harder, his gaze dark with raw, animalistic hunger. I felt his hands everywhere—in my hair, around my throat, gripping my thighs. And I wasn’t any better. I didn’t know where to hold onto him, didn’t know what to grasp. We just wanted more. More with every passing second.

It was raw, heated, and fucking messy. But it was amazing.

His breath grew heavier, his thrusts deeper, rougher. And with one final push, a deep groan tore from his throat as he came inside me.

For a moment, we just lay there in silence, the only sound in the room was our ragged breathing.

What the fuck did we just do? What the hell just happened? Could I not go a single day without making a mess of things?

Neither of us spoke. How could we? What the hell were we even supposed to say? Had we just gone from enemies to fuck buddies? No way.

Then, my phone rang.

Fury.

God, I hope he didn’t put any cameras in here for the mission.

"Agent Y/LN, everything is arranged. You can return now—I’ll explain everything when you get back."

I put the phone down, barely managing to wrap a blanket around myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barnes was already dressed, his gaze fixed on the floor, his expression unreadable.

"Let’s get back," I said coldly.

Fuck. This was about to get really awkward.

[nexiva]

Special Bonus:

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 8

Bucky x reader

Warnings: physical fights, swearing, fighting, general angst

Summary: Y/N’s past is catching on

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this part so let me know what you think. If you want to be on my taglist to this story, write me a message or just leave a comment🧚🏻‍♀️

Masterlist

The first night passed in tense silence. Bucky lay on the floor, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The polished marble was unforgiving, but he refused to share the bed (as did I) —pride was colder than the floor beneath him. Across the room, I shifted restlessly under the pristine white sheets - both too stubborn to speak, too haunted to sleep.

Occasionally, the rustle of fabric broke the quiet as me or him turned, chasing sleep that never came. We were trapped in memories, anger simmering beneath exhaustion. The weight of unspoken truths pressed down on us like the too-thick hotel air.

"You still awake?" I muttered into the darkness, voice strained. I don’t know where that question came from.

"What do you think?" Bucky shot back without moving.

Silence stretched once more, taut and unforgiving. Neither of us dared acknowledge the real reason for our insomnia—shared grief, tangled with resentment. The clock ticked on.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning came too quickly, the soft glow of dawn spilling through the curtains. We were already up when the alarm blared, shadows under our eyes and tension stiffening every movement.

The mission briefing replayed in their heads as they dressed in uncomfortable silence. Undercover. Married couple. Business deal. NEXUS contacts - simple in theory, a minefield in practice.

By the time we reached the bustling market district—a known hub for NEXUS affiliates—they looked the part. I wore an elegant yet simple dress, something sleek enough to scream wealth without drawing unnecessary attention. Bucky, reluctantly, had swapped his usual tactical gear for tailored slacks and a crisp shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, his metal arm concealed beneath a synthetic skin cover.

“Hold my hand,” I muttered as we exited the car, dread pooling in my stomach.

Bucky hesitated, then clasped my hand—warm, solid, unfamiliar. “Let’s just get this done.”

We moved through the market like shadows, smiles plastered on our faces, every touch calculated. To the outside world, we were the Thompsons—new money, ambitious, and eager to strike a deal with some rich assholes.

It didn’t take long for NEXUS eyes to find us. A man in a charcoal suit, sharp-eyed and lean, approached as we pretended to browse handcrafted jewelry.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” he said smoothly. “I hear you’re looking for exclusive merchandise.” So they have been watching us after all. Nicely done, I thought to myself.

Bucky smiled—a rare, cold expression. “We don’t waste time chasing rumors. Show us you’ve got something worth buying.”

The man’s gaze flicked between us both, calculating. I leaned into Bucky’s side, feigning affection while my heart hammered. Let this thing be over as soon as possible.

“Follow me,” the man finally said, turning on his heel.

Hand in hand, me and Barnes followed him into the labyrinthine heart of the market—the mission is truly beginning, with trust stretched thinner than ever.

The man in the charcoal suit led them through the bustling market, weaving between stalls laden with silk scarves, intricate glasswork, and the fragrant smoke of sizzling street food. Every step deeper into the labyrinth heightened my awareness—eyes watching from shaded corners, whispered conversations halting as they passed.

Bucky squeezed my hand briefly - the only sign he was just as on edge. Our fake smiles never faltered.

Finally, the man stopped outside a narrow, unmarked door tucked between a spice vendor and a shop selling antique rugs. He rapped twice, waited, then rapped three more times. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room. A single table sat in the center, flanked by two guards whose bulk barely fit in the space.

“Sit,” the man instructed, gesturing to the table.

Bucky pulled out a chair for me, the perfect picture of a doting husband. I sat gracefully, though every muscle was coiled tight. He followed, posture relaxed but eyes sharp.

“Talk fast,” Bucky said coolly. “We’re busy people.”

The man chuckled, pulling a sleek tablet from his jacket. With a few swipes, an image flickered to life on the screen—a cylindrical device, unassuming save for the faint red glow along its seams.

“The Whisper,” the man said, voice laced with pride. “Looks like nothing. Acts like the end of the world. One device, one city gone. Silent. Clean. No radiation, no trace.”

My blood ran cold.

“Demonstrations?” Bucky asked, his tone flat, but I knew him well enough (unfortunately) to catch the tightness in his jaw.

The man smiled, teeth flashing like a shark’s. “Not here of course. But our employer will be at the Ball tomorrow night. Impress him, and maybe you’ll get a private viewing.”

I leaned forward, playing the part. “We’re not here to dance. We’re here to buy.”

“Then you’ll want to put on your best shoes,” the man shot back, standing. “We don’t sell to just anyone.”

We finally got some sleep this time. After the market we haven’t spoken to each other. Not one word. I guess it was for the best. Both of us focused more than ever.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stood in front of the hotel room mirror, adjusting the emerald green gown that hugged my form like it had been stitched onto my skin. The satin pooled at my feet, the high slit revealing toned legs honed by years of training. The deep neckline was daring but tasteful, every inch of the dress screaming money, confidence, control. But inside, my stomach twisted into knots.

I hated this. Hated the pretense, the lies, the way the mission forced me to slip into an old skin I thought I'd shed years ago. The girl who could smile while planning a kill, who could flirt while counting exits. The girl I swore I'd never be again. I resigned from these kinds of missions for a reason. I just wanted something simple. Something calm. I hated this. I hated Nick for doing this to me.

Behind me, Bucky adjusted his tie, watching me through the mirror. Though I pretended like I hadn't noticed that. The black suit was sharp, perfectly tailored, but it wasn’t the clothes that caught me off guard. It was the way he looked at me—like he was seeing something he didn’t want to acknowledge?

"You clean up nice," he muttered, voice gruff.

I met his gaze in the glass, forcing an awkward smile that didn’t even reach my eyes. "Don’t get used to it."

The words were sharp, but the air between them crackled with something else—resentment, history, and the aching weight of things left unsaid. He looked away first, grabbing his jacket with a frustrated sigh - “Let’s get this over with.”

The ride to the venue was silent, the hum of the car engine - the only sound between us. I stared out the window, watching the glittering city blur past. It felt surreal—like I was floating outside myself, watching someone else step into the role of a woman who had everything except peace.

“Last chance to back out,” Bucky muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

She snorted, shaking her head. “Not my style. Besides, I’d hate to leave you alone with all these charming criminals.”

Bucky didn’t smile. He never did when the stakes were this high.

The ballroom was a glittering sea of gowns and tuxedos, laughter and champagne masking the undercurrent of power plays and whispered threats. Couples twirled across the marble dance floor, their movements practiced and polished. Live strings played a sultry melody, the kind designed to lull people into false comfort. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across marble floors and the air hummed with whispered deals. They knew how to cloak business in elegance, and tonight, power moved in silk gloves and diamond necklaces.3

My heels clicked softly as they crossed the threshold, Bucky’s hand firm on my back. To the world, we were power and beauty incarnate—ambitious, rich, untouchable. But I could feel the tension radiating off Bucky, I could see the slight tick in his jaw every time someone glanced our way.

“We’re being watched, again…” I murmured, tilting my head as if I was admiring the chandelier.

Bucky’s lips barely moved. “Good. Let’s give them something to see.”

He didn’t wait for my consent, for my anything—just took my hand and led me to the dance floor as the band shifted into a slower waltz. The moment his arm slid around my waist, I stiffened.

“You’re tense,” Bucky muttered, guiding her into the first turn.

“Maybe it’s because I’d rather dance with literally anyone else.”

“Funny. You’re still holding on tight.”

Our eyes met—blue clashing with mine. For a moment, the hate softened, replaced by something rawer, older, harder to define. There was history there, tangled and bruised, too complicated to unravel in a single dance. Then the music swelled, and the moment shattered.

"Eyes on the prize," I reminded, forcing a smile as I leaned into him, the picture of devotion. "Our buyer's watching." - “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” - a smooth voice, with a hard russian accent interrupted as the song ended. A tall,slightly older man with silver hair and eyes like cut glass stood at the edge of the floor. “My name is Peter Sokolov.” - I stiffened, I knew this name from somewhere, could it be…- ��Please join me in my private quarter. I heard that you were here about something very specific. Something close to my heart. Let’s talk business.” He pointed out the path leading to the massive steel doors. The whole time, Bucky held me firmly by the waist, guiding me just a few centimeters ahead of him. Behind us, we could both hear the deep, heavy breathing of Sokolov. That name. In that moment, it hit me. One of the last names on my list. One of the last people I swore to get revenge on—for everything they did to me. To us. I couldn’t let it show that I recognized this man. The mission was still ongoing, and I had to give it my absolute best.

After a moment, we finally reached a large room, covered entirely in expensive wood and marble. The alcohol scattered on the table was probably worth more than the entire ballroom. Fucking criminals.

“Please, have a seat.”

It was just the three of us in the room. Probably even his crew didn’t know exactly what was being traded here or what they were guarding. Everything was top secret—each person knew less than the next. But this time, we were speaking to the boss. The fucking king of this whole shit-show.

The plan was simple. Make the deal, gain access to the destructive machine, secure it, and blow this entire joyride to hell—including the “President’s” head.

“I assume I’ll finally be discussing the details with you?” Bucky asked firmly, sitting down.

I decided to play the role of the uninterested wife, strolling around the room and admiring the old books arranged on the wooden shelves.

Sokolov sat down across from Barnes, occasionally glancing in my direction. I could feel his disgusting gaze on me. I wanted to kill him right there and then. My rage was growing stronger, but I knew I couldn’t compromise the mission. Not now. Not when we were so close.

They talked for what felt like an eternity—price, location, access key, and all the other bullshit details Barnes was undoubtedly better prepared for than I was. His composure amazed me. I’d never seen him this professional.

“Why don’t you join us?” I finally heard from behind me.

“Ah, yes, excuse me. This collection is truly fascinating,” I said, finally sitting down with them at the table.

“So, you like reading, darling, huh?” His slick smile disgusted me even more.

“Yes, definitely,” I replied. “I’ve got a similar collection at our house, don’t I, honey?” I turned my head to Barnes.

Suddenly, Sokolov’s smile faded. He sat up straight. Something was wrong. For a moment, I thought I’d said something out of line, but then he focused his attention on Bucky.

Fuck. My scar. Behind my ear. They did something to me while injecting that fucking serum. Back when I was a kid. I barely remembered that scar. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

But then, he only looked at Bucky and smiled. And that’s when I heard it. Those words. Those fucking words. I knew them. I knew I knew them, but I didn’t know they had anything to do with me.

BUCKY’S POV

“I see…” Sokolov said. “You played your part well, but you forgot one tiny detail. NEXUS never forgets its projects.”

He stared straight into my eyes—so intensely I thought I was about to get punched in the face or that fifty guys would suddenly jump out of the closet.

But he just kept talking. The words poured out of his mouth like a twisted poem.

“Желание (longing).”

There is no fucking way, I thought. But he kept going:

“Ржавый (rusted).

Семнадцать (seventeen).

Рассвет (daybreak).

Печь (furnace).

Девять (nine).

Добросердечный (benign).

Возвращение на родину (homecoming).

Один (one).

Товарный вагон (freight car).”

I don’t know why I waited until he finished. I was—how do kids say it now?—too stunned to speak. No time for jokes. No fucking time for thinking. He knew who we were.

“You need to do your research more carefully, old man. Those fucking words don’t work on me anymore.” Like I said—no time for thinking. I punched him immediately.

I shed my second skin, and my vibranium arm was already exposed. I hit him with such force that I was sure he’d die right there, but I couldn’t compromise the mission. I had to stay focused. The mission was everything. Until it wasn’t.

I grabbed Sokolov by the collar, but he just smiled. His laughter grew louder and more maniacal, ringing in my ears like a ticking bomb.

“You need to do your research more carefully, old man,” he hissed back, mocking my words.

“These weren’t meant for you,” he added, glancing quickly over my shoulder.

“Kill him, soldier.”

“What the fuck are you eve—” I didn’t even finish. I felt a powerful blow straight to my cheekbone. I was sure fifty men had magically appeared. But what I saw was far worse.

Y/N. Her eyes—lifeless. Her face—expressionless. No emotion.

“Y/N… what are you…”

Another punch. Fuck. She was strong. She was fucking trying to kill me. I tried to scream at her, but I knew exactly what state she was in. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified. I couldn’t hurt her. For fuck’s sake, we were on this mission together. But how was this possible? The same words. The exact same words that had once controlled me. Were they working together? So many questions, so few answers. Fuck. Again. No time for thinking.

I had to pull her out of this state somehow.

“Agent Y/L/N! Listen to me—you’re not yourself! Try to remember who you are!”

Pointless.

Y/N lunged first, quick and precise, aiming a punch at my ribcage. I deflected it with my vibranium arm, the impact echoing like a gunshot. Without missing a beat, I countered with a hook, forcing Y/N to duck and sweep my legs. I stumbled but didn’t fall, twisting mid-motion to grab her collar and slam her against the wall.

“Please, don’t make me hurt you.”

With a sharp knee to my stomach, Y/N broke free, spinning into a roundhouse kick that caught my jaw. I staggered back, wiping blood from the corner of my mouth. The glint in my eye shifted from warning to determination. We clashed again—a blur of fists, kicks, and raw strength. Sure, my training made me precise and powerful. But Y/N’s agility and unpredictability kept her one step ahead. The room bore the brunt of our battle—chairs overturned, glass shattered, walls dented by missed strikes. Finally, I caught her wrist mid-punch, twisting her arm behind her back and pinning her to the floor.

We were both breathing hard, sweat and bruises blooming like battle scars.

I knew I had to put her out. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But she started slipping from my grip. With one harder blow to her head, Y/N collapsed, unconscious. Fuck.

What the hell just happened?

Sokolov.

I turned around, but he was already gone. I looked down at Y/N. I felt powerless. I checked her pulse. She’d survive. I picked her up gently, cradling her in my arms. This mission couldn’t have gone more wrong. I hadn’t even imagined this outcome. I slipped out through the back exit, still hearing the faint music from the ongoing ball. Somehow, I managed to carry her to our hotel room and lay her down in bed without drawing unnecessary attention.

[nexiva]

My characters: *having a peaceful moment*

Me, whipping out my laptop:

[nexiva]

I love this man 😆

SEBASTIAN STAN presenting the Best Documentary Director award at the 77th Annual DGA Awards

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 7

Bucky x reader

Warnings: all the same: angst, swearing, fighting and arguing, a lot of it in this part!

Summary: First mission together, yay🥲 And one bed?!? Who would have thought 🙋🏼‍♀️

A/N: so this part is a bit longer than usual but I wanted to make them finally be alone for a bit 😊😊 (not sure if that’s a good thing for them - yet😈) enjoy!

Masterlist

The walk to the conference room was slower than usual, each step weighed down by the dread pooling in my stomach. Sam, of course, was still smirking like he knew something I didn’t.

“Cheer up,” he said as we rounded the corner. “Maybe Fury just wants to give you both medals for not murdering each other this week.”

“Or maybe he wants me to murder you instead,” I shot back, forcing a grin I didn’t feel. My heart raced in my chest, an unease that had been building ever since I left Barnes' room that night. Something was coming. I could feel it.

The door to the conference room slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the familiar sight of Steve, Natasha, Tony and Barnes already seated at the table. My eyes flicked toward Barnes automatically. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. Tension clung to him like a second skin.

I dropped into the chair as far from him as possible, not missing the way his shoulders tensed when he realized I was there. Steve glanced between us with an expression that hovered somewhere between concern and resignation.

Before the silence could stretch further, Fury entered the room, his long coat billowing slightly as he walked. The air shifted immediately—the man carried gravity with him.

“Good. You’re all here,” he said, coming to a stop at the head of the table. His single eye swept over each of us, lingering just a fraction too long on me and Barnes.

Shit.

“We’ve got a situation,” Fury began, tapping the tablet he placed on the table. The screen lit up with grainy surveillance footage of a warehouse. Shadows flickered in the corners.

“This location was flagged two nights ago,” Fury continued. “Intel suggests remnants of NEXUS are regrouping. This isn’t just some wannabe faction. They’ve got resources, tech, and a list of targets longer than my patience.”

“Are we going in as a team?” Tony asked, sitting forward.

Fury shook his head. “No. This mission requires discretion. We’re sending in a pair of operatives who can handle themselves in hostile territory without making a scene.”

“Why the hell did you call us in for then?” Tony asked… politely.

“For emotional support, Stark, I’m glad you asked.”

My stomach dropped.

Please, God, no.

“Barnes and Y/L/N,” Fury announced, his voice firm, final.

The room froze. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then, simultaneously:

“No.” My voice cut through the silence just as Barnes pushed back his chair with a sharp screech.

“Absolutely not,” he growled, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were icy when they met mine, mirroring the outrage burning in my chest.

“I don’t have time for this.” Fury said, raising a hand to silence us both. “This mission isn’t about your personal issues. It’s about stopping NEXUS, before they get their claws into something bigger.”

“Send someone else,” Barnes snapped, his metal fingers digging into the edge of the table. “Anyone else.”

“No,” Fury said coolly. “You two are the best for this. Y/N, you know how they work. You have been studying them since you were a little kid. And you - he pointed his finger at Barnes - know how to operate in the shadows.”

“What if one of us kills the other before we get there?” I asked dryly, trying to mask the dread twisting in my gut.

“Then I'll have one less headache to deal with,” Fury said with the faintest hint of a smirk. "The plane leaves tomorrow at 0500. Pack light, move fast. And get your shit together." His eye landed on me, then Barnes, before he turned and walked out without another word.

He paused at the door, turning back with a slight smirk. "Oh, and one more thing. You'll be staying at a hotel near the mission site. Undercover as a rich couple looking to make a deal with NEXUS’S contacts. So, practice your loving gaze." He left before we could protest.

The room remained silent for a moment. I could feel the tension pressing against my skin like static electricity.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, shoving my chair back. I stood abruptly, my chest tight with frustration.

“No one’s thrilled about it,” Steve said gently.

I ignored him, turning toward the door.

Barnes beat me to it. He stalked past without looking back, his steps heavy, shoulders rigid. The door hissed shut behind him.

I exhaled shakily. My body buzzed with conflicting emotions—anger, dread, and something else I couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” Natasha said softly. I didn’t meet her eyes.

“I need air,” I muttered, and left.

“Well, so much for the emotional support I suppose.” Tony said to the rest with a wide smile on his face. “I hope Nick knows what he’s doing, otherwise it’s going to end really badly.”

_________________________________________________

I found myself at the nearest balcony I could find.

The air was crisp. The city stretched below, endless and oblivious to the turmoil in my chest. I gripped the railing until my knuckles ached.

Working with Barnes wasn’t just inconvenient. It was dangerous—not physically, but emotionally. That night in his room had cracked something open, and I wasn’t sure I could seal it shut again. And NEXUS? I had to experience them… all over again. What was Nick thinking?!

The door behind me cracked open and I tensed instinctively.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing out here?” Barnes’ voice was sharp and accusing.

“Getting away from you,” I snapped without turning.

“Yeah? Well, get used to disappointment,” he shot back. "Because we're stuck with each other."

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered.

“So I’m not the only one who needed a fresh air.” He exhaled a bitter laugh. "This mission’s going to be a disaster."

"We agree on something for once," I said through clenched teeth.

Neither of us moved, both too stubborn to be the first to leave. The hatred crackled like a live wire between us.

Just a mission. Just a cover. Just an absolute nightmare waiting to happen.

———————————————————————————

The ride to the airstrip the next morning was painfully silent. Sam tried to crack a joke as we boarded, but one glare from Barnes shut him up. The unease in my chest hadn’t loosened; if anything, it had grown heavier with each passing hour.

Once we got on the Quinjet the hum of the engines was the only sound as we sat on opposite sides of the cabin. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, arms crossed tight over my chest.

Barnes sat with his elbows on his knees, metal fingers flexing and clenching like he was imagining wringing someone’s neck. Probably mine.

"You always this chatty?" I muttered finally, trying to provoke him somehow. Maybe this mission would be over if I finally had an excuse to kill him? A girl can dream.

"Why waste my breath?" he shot back without looking up. "We both know how this is going to go."

"Yeah? And how’s that?"

"You’ll try to boss me around. I’ll ignore you. You’ll get pissed. We survive by some miracle, and then we go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist."

"Sounds like you've really thought this through."

"I like to plan for disasters," he said flatly.

I opened my mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. Not worth it. The next few weeks would be hell either way; no point burning what little patience I had left before we even landed.

The rest of the flight passed in strained silence.

When the quinjet touched down just outside the city, we disembarked without a word. A black sedan waited for us, sleek and nondescript. Barnes tossed his duffel in the trunk with more force than necessary. I slid into the passenger seat without looking at him.

The drive to the hotel was no better. I could feel the tension radiating off him, the thick, heavy presence of his frustration tangling with mine. We didn’t speak until we reached the hotel entrance.

The building was obnoxiously luxurious—all gleaming glass and marble, with staff dressed like they belonged on a movie set. The hostess at the front desk greeted us with a bright smile.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson!" she chirped.

Barnes stiffened beside me. My stomach turned. "Yeah," I said through clenched teeth. "That’s us."

"We've prepared your suite as requested. Here is your key." She handed me a slim card with an embossed logo. "Enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, just let us know."

"Thanks," I muttered, snatching the card.

Barnes didn’t move until I elbowed him. "Come on, sweetheart," I said with exaggerated venom. "Let's go enjoy our romantic getaway."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he followed me to the elevator.

The ride up was torturously slow. When the doors opened, we strode down the hall in, again, tense silence. I swiped the keycard, pushed the door open, and stopped dead.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

The room was stunning, all polished wood and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline. But that wasn’t what had my stomach in knots.

The bed—the one, singular bed—was massive and covered in crisp white linens. Sitting dead center on the mattress was a folded piece of paper with bold, familiar handwriting.

"What the hell is that?" Barnes asked, stepping up beside me.

I grabbed the note and read it aloud:

"'Have fun. —Fury.'"

The paper crumpled beneath my grip as I clenched my fists. "That manipulative, one-eyed asshole," I hissed.

"Son of a bitch," Barnes muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. "He did this on purpose."

"Of course he did!" I threw my bag on the chair by the window with more force than necessary. "He thinks this is fucking funny."

Barnes paced faster. "This is exactly why I didn't want to do this mission with you."

"Oh, please," I snapped. "Like I'm thrilled about playing house with Tin Man over here."

He turned sharply to face me, his eyes narrowing. "You know what I’ve noticed about you? You never listen to anyone but yourself. It’s always your way or nothing."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, I never listen? Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that? You’re the one who can’t see past your own damn reflection."

Barnes’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. "It’s not about seeing past myself. It’s about you thinking you’re the only one with the right answers. You never take anyone else’s opinion seriously."

I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, because you always take other people’s feelings into account, right?"

He growled, taking a step forward. "I’m not the one who’s constantly barking orders without listening. You act like you’ve got everything figured out, and everyone else is just supposed to fall in line."

"Maybe if you’d ever considered what anyone else says for once instead of getting all up in your feelings, we’d get somewhere!" I shot back, my frustration boiling over. "But no, you’re too busy wallowing in your own self-righteousness, “I am a victim” shit, to notice anyone else!"

"You think I’m self-righteous?" He barked a bitter laugh. "You’re the most self-absorbed person I’ve ever met! You can’t see past your own agenda long enough to hear anything outside of it."

"Self-absorbed?" I snapped. "You’re one to talk! You think everything revolves around you, and you don’t even stop to think about how anyone else is trying to make this work. It’s YOUR way or nothing, Barnes!"

"I have to do it my way because your way is always ‘perfect’ in your mind!" His voice rose, the anger and frustration evident. "You’re so stuck on controlling every damn thing that you can’t even see you’re pushing everyone away!"

I took a deep breath, glaring at him. "You know what, Barnes? Maybe if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own damn ego, you’d realize I’m just trying to get shit done while you stand there acting like the world’s out to get you."

"Yeah, well maybe if you actually listened to the people around you, you wouldn’t have to do everything yourself!" He shot back, fists clenched.

"Fuck you, Barnes!" I snapped, voice seething.

"Right back at you, sweetheart!" he snarled.

We glared at each other, breathing hard. My hands shook from the adrenaline, from the sheer rage coiling in my gut.

The tension in the room shifted, from raw anger to something sharper, more dangerous. His eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a second, and that single glance sent a jolt of something electric through me.

I took a step back. "I'm taking the left side," I said, voice strained.

"Like hell you are," he growled. "I'm not sleeping next to you. I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"Perfect," I snapped. "Enjoy your hardwood honeymoon."

I grabbed my bag, stalked to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me.

What the hell that argument was even about - I thought to myself. I didn't like the weird tension after we were done screaming at eachother. Pressing my back against the door, I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled shakily.

But beneath the fury and the dread, there was the cold, undeniable truth neither of us had said aloud yet: I fucking hated him. Not just because he was an asshole. Not just because we couldn’t be in the same room without fighting.

I hated him because of her.

My sister. My heart. The only family I had and yet somehow - we were here, pretending to be a loving couple, while the ghost of her clung to every word we spoke. She’d want me to hate him, right? To get revenge on the man who killed her… I remember her being so soft, even in that harsh environment. She was an angel. So forgiving. And yet I knew I could not forgive HIM.

I wiped my eyes roughly and forced myself to breathe.

Tomorrow, we had a mission to do. And I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart just yet.

[nexiva]

I just came back from Captain America: Brave new world and let me tell you, Marvel may be getting back on track with movies. I definitely recommend it. Can’t wait for Thunderbolts* 💃