screqmsqueen

[screqmsqueen]

You Never Said Stay – Part 2 ( read part 1)

Setting: Avengers Tower, Living Room. Late night.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

probably no part 3 for this, sorry!

The Tower was always too quiet after a mission.

You could still hear the aftermath in the walls—the muffled hum of the air system, the occasional groan of the metal infrastructure adjusting to night. But mostly, it was silence. The kind that didn’t comfort you. The kind that let your thoughts echo too loudly in your head.

Sleep had already rejected you. So you moved without thinking, bare feet brushing against cold floors as you walked the familiar halls. No real destination—just a vague pull, the way a tide pulls things that are already half-drowning.

You stopped at the edge of the living room before you even realized why.

And there he was.

Bucky. On the couch. Sitting with his elbows on his knees, fingers knotted together. His hair was still damp from a quick shower, his jacket folded over the armrest. The metal arm caught the soft lamp light and flickered with gold undertones. He wasn’t watching anything. The TV was off. So was the world.

He didn’t look at you when you walked in.

You hesitated, fingers brushing the doorframe, before your voice slipped out—quiet, but clear.

“Figured you’d be out of here by now.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. Just said, “Didn’t feel right.”

You stepped in slowly, crossing to the couch. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed your approach.

You didn’t sit right next to him. Just close enough that the cushion dipped with your weight. A small thing. But it felt like something.

“You didn’t look at me” you said softly. “When I hit the ground. You didn’t even look.”

His jaw flexed. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Not defensive. Just tired.

“I thought you were dead” he said. “And if I looked at you and it was true… I wouldn’t have come back from that.”

You watched him for a second. The vulnerability in his voice wasn’t practiced. It was quiet. Unearned. Almost unwilling.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I did” he said, and then looked at you, really looked. “I do.”

The room went still.

Not heavy like before. Just… still.

You exhaled, leaning back against the cushions.

“I don’t throw myself in front of people for fun, Barnes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t do it to make you owe me anything.”

“I know.”

Silence again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was weightless. Careful.

“I think I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” you admitted. “Not because I need it. Just… because I didn’t want to feel like it was one-sided.”

“It’s not” he said, and his voice cracked a little on it. “It’s not one-sided.”

You looked at him then. His hands. His eyes. The parts of him he tried to hide, even now.

“I get it” you said. “You’ve lost people. Been through hell. Trust isn’t easy.”

He nodded once. Just barely.

“But I’m not asking you to promise anything” you added. “I’m not trying to hold you hostage with what happened.”

That made him blink. He looked down at his hands, exhaled through his nose.

“I don’t want to go” he said quietly.

You turned your head toward him.

“I didn’t ask you to stay” you said. “Not really.”

“No” he said. “But you didn’t want me to leave, either.”

You let the moment hang.

Let it settle into your bones, soft and slow.

Then, you leaned your good shoulder slightly toward him. Close enough that your arms brushed. He didn’t pull away. You felt the tension leave him, just a bit.

“You’re allowed to stay,” you said. “You don’t have to be anything other than here.”

“I don’t know how to do this” he said.

“You don’t have to know. You just have to try.”

He looked over at you again. Eyes softer now. Still tired. Still carrying too much. But open in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Maybe ever.

“I’m scared I’ll mess it up” he said.

“You will” you replied. “We both will.”

That made him breathe out a laugh. Quiet. Real.

“I don’t know what this is” he said.

“Neither do I” you admitted. “But I know I don’t want to keep pretending there’s nothing here.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Just looked down at the space between you.

Then, slow—tentative—he reached over and brushed his fingers against yours. Just enough that you felt it. That grounding pressure of touch.

You turned your hand slightly. Let your pinky hook with his. Not grabbing, not holding.

Just… meeting halfway.

And that was enough.

No promises. No dramatic declarations.

Just him, staying.

And for once, that was the ending you wanted.

[screqmsqueen]

You Never Said Stay - part 1 ( read part 2 )

setting:Avengers Tower, post-mission

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: angst, post-mission exhaustion, emotional distance, secret pining, team dynamics, soft tension, heartbreak

The quinjet touched down on the Tower’s roof just after midnight, blood and smoke still thick on your tongue.

Everyone looked like hell—Steve was limping, Natasha had her arm in a sling, and you? You were trying not to look at Bucky. Again.

He hadn’t spoken much since the mission went sideways. Not even when you’d taken a hit meant for him. Not even when your knees buckled from it and your hands shook and you bled through your suit.

You told yourself it was fine. You always told yourself it was fine.

Inside, the Tower hummed with quiet. Lights dimmed low. Everyone peeled off to their own corners of the floor—some limping, some angry, some silent.

You went straight to the med bay. No one followed.

Except him.

You didn’t hear him come in. But you felt him—like a ghost slipping between moments. That thing he always did, hovering like he wanted to say something but never did. You hated how your body responded—how your breath caught, how your skin felt hotter with him in the room.

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking up from where you were stitching your side.

“I know you’re not,” Bucky answered. Voice low. Guilt tucked into every syllable.

You laughed, bitter. “Wow. Barnes speaks.”

That made him flinch. Good. You were tired of being the only one who cared out loud.

"You took a hit," he said quietly.

“You were going to die.”

“I’ve died before” he murmured.

Your hands stopped. Needle frozen in your grip.

He was always like this—too much and never enough. Always pulling you in, then pushing you out like his past had built walls too high to climb.

You turned to face him. “Do you ever think—maybe you're not the only one with scars?”

His eyes met yours. Soft. Tired. That kind of tired that didn’t come from a lack of sleep—it came from surviving too long.

“I didn’t ask you to care,” he said, and your heart cracked open at the edges.

“No,” you whispered, “but you never told me not to.”

The silence between you stretched like a wound.

“You always leave after missions,” you said. “Like you’re running. Like being around us—around me—is too much.”

“It is,” he admitted. “You are.”

You looked down, ashamed at how much that hurt. But before you could say anything else, he added, “Because you make me want things I don’t think I deserve.”

Your breath caught.

Like peace. Like softness. Like you.

“Then stay,” you said.

And for a moment, he almost did.

He took one step forward. Eyes flickered to your hand. Then your lips. Then back to the door.

But Bucky Barnes was made of goodbyes.

So he left.

And all you could do was bleed in silence—half-stitched, half-loved, and fully broken.

—

if anyone has actually read this then hey! it’s my first time posting and i hope you liked it!! please let me know if i should post more 🙏