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sergeantbarnessdoll · 26 days

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Cute In Your Uniform » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: DBF!Beefy Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks Y/N looks cute in her new cheer uniform.

Warnings: Fluffy ending, Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of alcohol, secret relationship, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, praise kink, Bucky’s dog tags and red henley, use of pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You were embraced in a hug by your mom the second you walked through the door. You decided to visit your parents for the weekend.

“How are you, sweetie? Me and your dad haven’t seen you since the beginning of January.” Your mom says.

“I’m doing good.” You tell her. “The cheer team got new uniforms.” You say.

“Put it on! I want to see what it looks like!” She says with excitement.

You went upstairs to your bedroom and changed into your new cheer uniform. You looked in the mirror and ran your hands over it to smooth it out. You went back downstairs to show your mom.

“What do you think, mom?” You asked, giving your mom a little spin.

“I love it! You look so pretty in it! Go show your dad.” She says.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“Outside with Bucky.” She says.

Blush crept up on your cheeks. Let’s just say that you have a huge crush on your dad’s best friend.

“Hi dad!” You say, walking outside.

Your dad turned around, smiling when he seen you. He stood up and gave up a big hug, picking you up in the process, making you squeal.

“I can’t believe you’re home!” Steve putting you down. “Is this your new cheer uniform?” He asks.

“Yes. Do you like it?” You asked.

“I don’t like that it’s showing off a lot of skin, but you look beautiful in it.” He says.

On the other hand, Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You glanced at him to see him licking his lips.

“What do you think of my new cheer uniform, Mr. Barnes?” You asked.

“I think you look cute in your uniform, doll.” Bucky says, biting his lower lip and completely forgetting that Steve was right next to you.

“Stop staring at my daughter like that, jerk.” Steve says, glaring at his best friend.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbles, taking a sip of his beer. “Your dad is right. It does show a lot of skin, but you do look beautiful in it.” He says.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say, blushing uncontrollably.

“Sit down with us, sweetheart.” Steve says.

You sat down in a chair across from Bucky. Bucky reached in the cooler between him and Steve, handing you a beer.

“Bucky!” Steve scolds.

“What? She’s almost 23. She can have alcohol.” Bucky says, leaning back in his chair.

“He’s not wrong, dad.” You say, opening the beer and took a sip.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes at you and Bucky. You told your dad and Bucky about how you’re doing in your college classes and how well you’re doing in cheer.

“Steve, honey? We need to leave in a little bit if we’re going to make those reservations.” Your mom says to your dad.

“You guys are going on a date?” You asked.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know you just got home, but we’ll spend the day together tomorrow. We can do whatever you want.” Steve says, kissing the top of your head.

“Ok. Have fun on your date.” You say, giving him and your mom a smile.

“You leaving, Buck?” He asks Bucky.

“I’m gonna stay. I don’t want Y/N to be alone her first night home in a while.” Bucky says, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ok. See you later.” He says, leaving.

You and Bucky were all over each other the second your parents left.

“I fucking missed this.” Bucky breathes.

“Me too.” You say against his lips.

You two pulled away from each other, looking deep in each other’s eyes. You stood up and walked to the door, motioning with your finger for him to follow you inside. Bucky was hot on your heels as he followed you to your bedroom. You closed and locked the door behind you. You grabbed the chain of Bucky’s dog tags and pulled him down for a hungry kiss. Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against his body. His hands left your waist to roam your body, stopping on your ass cheeks and gave them a squeeze, making you gasp.

“This uniform is making me go fucking crazy, babydoll.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“Now you know how I feel when you’re wearing these damn henleys.” You say, licking your lips and admired his muscular form in the red henley.

Bucky playfully spanked your ass before sitting down on your bed. You sat on his lap, straddling him. His bulge pressed against your pussy through your wet panties.

“Who knows…” You start, kissing his neck. “Maybe I’ll let you fuck me in it after a game.” Your teeth nipped on his skin, hard enough to mark him up. “I’ll be all hot and sweaty.” You whispered in his ear.

“Don’t fucking tease me, doll.” Bucky growls, smacking your ass. “Take this off before I rip it off.” He orders.

You kiss him once more before getting off his lap. You pulled your cheer top over your head and dropped it on the floor. You turned around and reached your hands behind you to unzip your cheer skirt. You pulled it down your legs, bending down in the process to give Bucky an amazing view of your ass. You turned back around and reached your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. You pulled your wet panties down your legs and playfully threw them at Bucky. He caught them and shoved them into the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s your turn to get naked, daddy.” You say.

You got on the bed as Bucky stood up. You watched as he took off his henley and dropped it on the floor. Your eyes fell upon the bulge in his boxers. You licked your lips at the sight of it.

“Is this what you want, doll face?” Bucky asks, referring to his cock.

“Mmm yes, daddy.” You hummed, biting your bottom lip.

Bucky took his boxers off. His cock hard and leaking with precum. He wrapped his right hand around his cock and pumped it as he got on the bed in between your spread legs.

“Tell me, babydoll…” Bucky starts. “You let any of those college boys touch what’s mine?” He asks.

“No, daddy. I’m yours.” You answered.

“That’s fucking right. You’re mine.” He says, almost growling.

Bucky rubbed his cock through your wetness. You moaned when his tip bumped your clit. He lined his cock at your tight entrance and slowly slid it inside of your pussy, inch by inch.

“Fuck…” Bucky groans. “It’s been a while since I fucked this tight pussy.” He says, watching as his cock disappeared into your pussy.

Bucky gave you a moment to let you adjust to his size since it’s been a while since you two have had sex. He leaned down and kissed your lips sweetly. You gave him the ok to start thrusting. He pulled out almost all the way, only leaving his tip inside of you and then thrusted back inside of you in a fast thrust.

“I fucking missed you.” Bucky says, followed by a moan.

“I missed you more.” You moaned.

“Yea?” He breathes. “Tell me how much you missed me.” He says.

“I missed having your lips on mine.” You started. “I missed- oh fuck! I missed the way your body feels against mine. The way your tongue feels on my pussy and the way you fuck me.” You say and moaned.

“I missed all of that too, babydoll.” Bucky starts. “Especially the feeling of your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He says.

Bucky leaned down and kissed along your neck, his teeth biting down hard enough to mark you up. His stubble scratched against your skin in a way you love so much. You moaned when you felt the cool metal of his dog tags touch your hot skin. You spread your legs wider and arched your back in pleasure, your chest touching his. This created a new angle for Bucky. His cock was able to go deeper and hit your sweet spot at just the right angle.

“Oh daddy! Fuck yes!” You moaned.

Your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging in his skin and leaving red scratch marks.

“You know…” Bucky starts and moans. “The night you sent me that picture of you in your panties and my shirt…” He pauses to moan. “I was tempted to drive up there and go to your dorm and fuck you.” He says.

You remember that night quite well. You and Bucky were texting and you decided to tease him a little by sending him a picture of you in your panties and his shirt.

Bucky kissed his way up your neck and jaw, finally reaching your lips and kissing you sloppy. His tongue slid past your parted lips, exploring every part of your mouth. You placed one of your hands on the back of his head to intensify the kiss. Your fingers tugged at the long strands of his hair. Bucky’s metal hand found its way to your clit and began rubbing it in circles. Your pussy squeezed around his cock, making him moan.

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” Bucky pants, leaning his forehead against your shoulder.

Bucky sat back on his knees and spread your legs more, watching as his cock disappeared inside of your pussy, covered in your wetness. He then put your legs over his shoulders and grasped onto the head and started thrusting harder, his dog tags dangling above your face.

“Look at that.” He breathes, glancing down at where the two of you are connected. “Taking my cock like the good girl I know you are.” He praises.

A moan left your lips when he called you a good girl.

“You like that, huh? You like being my good girl, don’t you, babydoll?” He asks.

“Mhmm yes!” You moaned. “I’m gonna cum!” You felt your orgasm building up. “Please let me cum.” You begged.

“Come for daddy, doll.” Bucky pants, rubbing your clit faster.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, a loud moan left your lips. Bucky came inside of you soon after you came. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and laying down next to you.

“That was amazing.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“Yea.” You say in agreement.

You moved closer to him and laid your head on his chest, your fingers playing with his dog tags.

“I hate keeping our relationship a secret.” You say.

“I know, doll. Me too.” Bucky says.

After a while, you and Bucky got dressed and went downstairs to watch a movie. Your parents came home soon after, making a beeline for their bedroom.

“You guys might want to turn the TV up.” Steve says as him and your mom went upstairs.

“Gross.” You mumbled, turning the TV up.

“Looks like they had a fun date night.” Bucky says, wrapping his arm around you and pulled you against his side.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky · 5 months

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@animavelita over on tiktok has me all up in my unholy thoughts

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ramp-it-up · 7 months

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Football Season

Summary: It’s Football Season. But you want to play.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: it’s the first day of Kinktober! Hope you enjoy! You can read this as a companion piece to Party Games

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Sportsball. Mostly pwp. Established relationship. Thigh riding, praise/degradation kink, P in V, creampie. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

It was your first football season living with your boyfriend. You moved in with him in the spring and had wonderful weekends in bed and hanging out with friends. Steve and Sam warned you about Bucky’s obsession, joking that you would be a football widow.

You laughed at the jokes and Bucky pulled you close to him, kissed your temple and said, “Don’t listen to these punks. I would never ignore you, Doll.”.

You believed him. Bucky was so supportive of everything in your life, your job, your hobbies, your family, that you wanted to let him have the perfect supportive football girlfriend on opening weekend. Steve was away for work and Sam was in Louisiana visiting his sister and attending a Saints game. You were going to prove that Bucky wouldn’t miss out on having the guys with him to watch his team.

Bucky looked so fine sitting on the couch, in a t-shirt and basketball shorts with his team’s logo on them and that made you want to serve him the best homemade sandwiches and beer ever.

After you went to the grocery store, you slipped into the bedroom and slipped on your surprise for Bucky, a custom black jersey with red trim from his favorite team with Barnes 001 on the back. You had it made for him, so it hung down your thighs, which were covered by the tops of thigh high red socks. The kicker was what was underneath the jersey, but that was for later.

Now was the time for some food. It was almost kickoff.

Bucky glanced up at you from his fantasy football app as you placed the tray of food down on the coffee table and did a double take at you in the jersey. Bucky beamed at you as he leaned back and spread his legs.

“What do we have here, Doll?”

His eyebrow raised as he asked the question. You tried to ignore his man spread, even though it was your weakness.

“Just a present for my favorite football fan. I thought I’d break it in for you while we watch the game.”

Bucky grinned at you.

“So thoughtful, Doll. You look great in it. I might never wear it, honestly you look so hot.”

You winked at him as Bucky reached for you. He pulled you onto his thigh and kissed your forehead, temple, nose and mouth. The jersey was tucked under your bottom so you weren’t bare thonging it on his thigh, but you could feel the power there. But now wasn’t the time.

“I love you, Doll.”

You winked at him, kissed his cheek, stood up and padded back in the kitchen, dodging his hand as he reached for the hem of the jersey.

“Watch your game!” you called.

“I’d rather watch you, Doll.”

Bucky’s head followed you for a moment, but he was soon distracted again when his team got possession of the ball.

Once you got him set up, you sat up on the couch with your head on his shoulder and your legs thrown over his.

Bucky was entranced in the game, drinking beer, pumping his fist and throwing up his hands when his team lost or gained ground, and it was so cute to watch. You man was in his happy place and it made you happy too.

You snuggled his arm and kissed his bicep, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, when during a particularly energetic show of emotion, Bucky’s hand came down with a slap on your thigh.

“Ow!”

You laughed as Bucky looked at you with concern as he rubbed your rapidly reddening limb.

“Sorry, Doll. You okay?”

“I’m good, Jamie. Just let me get my lick back.”

You reached over and pulled up Bucky’s shorts from the thigh closest to you and delivered a sound smack to the corded muscles there. You shifted as you looked at his thigh ripple slightly. He was so fucking thick and the whore in you awakened. Bucky just flexed and smirked at you as you lusted after him.

“I thought you were actually gonna lick it.”

That grin.

“Hmmmph.”

You gave him a side eye and snuggled in again as he returned to his game, the idea of licking his thigh, and other things, taking over your brain. You shifted, the red thong you had on under the jersey now uncomfortable in your wet folds as Bucky got engrossed in the game again.

This was turning into a situation.

You didn’t know if you could be still for two more hours. It was only the first quarter. You stared at his thigh at the muscles shifting and moving as he did, and you didn’t realize it, but you were shuffling down his arm, your mouth nearing his muscular leg.

You snuck a look up at him to find him smiling down at you.

“You good, Doll? What are you doing? Why do you look like you’re about to commit a crime?”

Bucky could read you like a book. And you loved it.

“Hmmm. I just want a little… snack…”

With a mischievous smile, you fully committed and leaned down to lick a long stripe from his Bucky’s knee until your head was halfway covered by his shorts. Your mouth nose bumped his ball sack and you felt him jump.

“What the…?”

When you resurfaced, Bucky looked at you, sky blue eyes wide.

“You said you wanted me to lick it.”

You shrugged your shoulders and took a drink of water.

“I said I thought you were going to…”

Bucky eyed you gulping down the glass and stopped trying to explain himself.

“You thirsty Doll?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded, smiling back at the man who was not paying attention to his game anymore.

“Liquid is collecting places, need to replenish.”

Bucky leaned back, and hiked the leg of his shorts even higher.

“Are you wet, Baby Doll?”

That name. Bucky had you.

You nodded, your mouth open slightly to breathe. He had you open.

“Well, you already got me wet, little Baby. Might as well finish the job.”

Bucky patted his thigh.

“.. But.. the game, Jamie…”

“I can still watch the game while you use my thigh, Baby. Climb on.”

You stood up and lifted the jersey to pull down the thong but Bucky stopped you with a whistle.

“Shit Baby Doll. Look at how you’ve ruined that pretty little red thong. Turn around.”

You did as you were told and Bucky picked up the thong from between your ass cheeks and snapped it back into place. Then he smacked your butt.

“That is one lucky piece of material. Nestled in all that ass so pretty.”

He turned you around with both hands and then stared at your crotch.

“You’re so wet that you are making this red thong even darker.”

Bucky picked up the thong from the front and ran his finger down to the wetness, then he pulled so it moved even tighter between your legs. That, coupled with him giving you that ice blue sex god stare almost made your knees buckle.

“I think you need to keep this on and use it to help you get off. Climb on.”

Bucky leaned back again and slowly sucked his finger into his mouth, slowly pulling it out for you to see. He knew that got you hot.

You did as you were told, using your hands to brace on his broad shoulders. You were down closer to his knee and he reached for you, placing his hands on your waist to drag you closer to him.

“Careful with that knee, Doll.”

The warning made you giggle, because one false move would not be so good for Bucky’s balls.

“Get comfy for me.”

You shifted, widening your legs, so that your knee simply slid along his wide open other leg as you moved, nice and slow, grinding your core into his hairy, beefy thigh.

“That feel good?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. You surprised yourself at how close you were so quickly and you balled Bucky’s t-shirt in your hands as your hips moved faster and faster.

“There you go. Good Girl.”

He reached up under the jersey and tweaked one nipple, teasing your rapidly heating body.

“Now, stay quiet and don’t cum, because I’m watching the game. It would make too much noise. But don’t stop moving either Doll. Can you handle that? Don’t cum until I tell you.”

You nodded again, not caring that what he said didn’t make any sense. You were already lost in the feeling.

Bucky looked back up at the tv screen, as if he was really watching the game.

You moved, your slick allowing your folds to skate along his thigh, the flexing he was giving you the perfect compliment the your dripping, throbbing flesh that you owned. You felt his cock, hard now against your own thigh and you shuddered, a new need awakening.

Bucky hands slipped under the jersey and both hands teased your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmmhmmmm, Buckyyyy.”

You arched your back and went faster as you felt your clit quiver against his flesh. Your pussy reacted instinctively.

“Damn, Baby Doll,” Bucky took a drink of beer. “Your pussy is clenching on my leg like she could take it inside her. Fucking whore for my body, aren’t ya? Wanna use me any way you want, huh?”

You shuddered again, Bucky’s filthy words making you even closer to the edge.

“Look at you, arching your back like a slut.”

Bucky pulled the jersey off of your body and his eyes raked over you.

“My beautiful little slut.”

Bucky leaned over and started sucking your nipples, hard, alternating sides and sensations between sicking, licking and biting.

“Look at you, riding my thigh and holding it like a good little slut. So obedient. So good for me.”

“Ahhhhh! Bucky! Mmmmmmmm.”

“Love it when you moan for me. Being such a good girl. My best girl…ah ah ah.. Hold it.”

Bucky was feeling you quiver and shudder on his thigh, not able to move anymore because you felt like sparks were shooting from where you were connected. He reached for you and grabbed you, dragging your soaking wet slit down the insistent ridge of his thigh.

“I didn’t say you could stop moving. Do you want to come? Tell me?”

“Please…Bucky…”

Bucky grabbed your throat.

“Not. Yet.”

Bucky was staring at you as you bit your lip, trying with all of your might to control your release. He watched the tears start to fall and he licked them from your cheeks.

You were so mesmerized by his eyes that you didn’t notice that he’d pulled his cock out from his shorts. He lifted you up by your neck and you stood on shaking legs and practically impaled yourself on him.

“Come on my cock then, Baby Doll. Come all pretty for me.”

You slid down to the base of him, wider than you expected although you’d had him hundreds of times before and shuddered from the stretch.

“Oh fuck. Take my cock, Baby Doll. Fuck.”

That shudder led you into an intense orgasm, partially because Bucky was holding you down, making you feel him stretch you out.

“Look at you. I don’t even have to move and you come all pretty all over my cock.”

You started sucking his neck as you came, vibrating all around him.

“Oh shit, give me that orgasm.”

Bucky started moving then, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room.

“Yeah, yeah, of fuck, yes, yes, yes…oh God yes…”

You were mewling and whining as he pounded into you, your orgasm extending, blooming and growing.

Bucky pulled pack to look at your bouncing breasts and you realized that it was you fucking him now, and he was enjoying the show.

“Yeah, Baby, fuck me. Show me who I belong to. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop until you cum…”

You put your hands on his chest and bounced up at down a what seemed like warp speed. Bucky cupped the base of his shaft as you fucked yourself on him and fingered your ass and your cunt as you moved.

“Oooohhhhhh! Bucky!”

“Oohhhh my Good goddd!”

Bucky roared as he spurted hot come in your pussy, and you didn’t stop moving until he was soft and slipping out of you.

You collapsed on his chest listening to his heart thump. Suddenly you heard the game again. A roar came from the crowd and Bucky pumped his fist.

“Yes! Amazing Score!”

You laughed as you kissed Bucky’s cheek and moved to go put the jersey back on.

Bucky kissed the top of your head as you leaned on his arm again. He put himself back in his shorts as he put his arm around you.

“My fucking good luck charm. My best girl.”

“Love you too, Bucky.”

And you dozed until he woke up with his head between your legs at halftime.

As always, if you liked it, please reblog! ❤️

#kinktobermaybe #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #beefy bucky #beefy bucky barnes #beefy boyfriend Bucky

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muensterfucker · 2 months

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shrinkyclinks my beloved

#i drew up #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #the winter soldier #pre serum steve rogers #beefy bucky barnes #shrinkyclinks #stucky #stevebucky #stucky fanart #barnes and noble #OH YEAH!!!!!!

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chasingmidnights · 5 months

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Current thought:

I need big, beefy, needy Bucky that's a giant but is actually a teddy bear when it comes to you.

(The first thing that attracted you to him was his sheer size alone.)

#midnight thoughts #random thoughts #beefy bucky #beefy bucky barnes #giant Bucky #beefy!bucky barnes x petite!female #i can't stop thinking about this #i need it #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan fandom

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dispatchvampire · 3 months

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Accidentally in Love (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC

Warnings: Potentially lethal levels of fluffiness right now, potential for smut later. A little blood, canon levels of violence potentially. Plus size female OC, body descriptions.

Rating: PG-13 (right now for language, but look for this to change)

WC: 1800-ish.

Summary:

Echo's living a normal life in NYC, a 911 dispatcher, the most excitement she gets is from the calls she takes. And then love comes crashing in one day when she's riding her bike through Central Park.

Steve and Bucky weren't looking for anything on their daily run around the park besides fresh air and exercise. The streak of purple eye candy on a bike that lapped them pretty regularly was a nice addition but not mandatory, at least until some impromptu roughhousing results in some civilian casualties in the form of the most beautiful woman either of them had seen in a long, long time.

A/N: AU, Post CACW, Bucky’s Chill and we have always lived in the Tower. Just call this a throwback to the found family, everyone lives in Stark Tower fics.

This is supposed to be a super-fluffy love story. Still undecided if I'm gonna keep this one going but posting now for giggles and grins. It's got some CSI:NY characters crossing over because why not.

I'm just messing about and playing in my WIPs folder. Not Beta'd: we die like men! (honestly, I tried but if you catch something I missed, let me know)

Chapter 3

One Week Later

“Is he hot in person?”

“Who?” Echo slipped her lunch into the breakroom fridge and pulled out the two cold bottles of caffeinated water she’d left in there the previous night. Late afternoon as it slipped into evening was always a busy time and she needed the fortification.

“Spongebob Squarepants,” Kalenda, her work bestie, scoffed as she crossed her arms with an impatient frown. The curvy brunette was Echo’s age, about two inches shorter but making up for it with feistiness. “Who do you think? Bucky freaking Barnes! Christ, it’s like you don’t even know me at all.”

“Lord…” she rolled her eyes as she held the door to the break room open for her friend to pass in front of her on their way into the main center. “Yes. Yes, he is just as beautiful in person, and he and Captain Rogers together are, in fact, as kind and stupidly hot as advertised.” After the visit at the hospital where they’d returned her replaced or repaired belongings—including her bike—Echo had traded numbers with Steve and Bucky, and the guys had texted her a few times in the intervening days to check on her and chatting a little, but it felt weird reaching out to contact them just because. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything.

Not that she wouldn’t have minded being their friend, or… well, or. They were gorgeous, sweet, funny so far as she could tell, and of course heroic and selfless as hell. The way they smiled at her made her knees weak and her pussy may never recover. What’s not to like? But who was she kidding, really. They were the objects of desire for over half the planet, she guessed, and she was a dispatcher for the NYPD. In no way were those worlds truly related, outside of the most superficial ways, much less were compatible.

“The hair and those eyes, I’d get so fucking lost in them you’d never find me again. And all those muscles,” she sighed lustily. “Fuck me, that’s before we even talk about that metal arm,” Kalenda carried on, now in full swoon as they made their way out to their stations. “Gods, the things I would let him do to me…”

Echo snorted at her friend’s obvious heart-eyes in regards to the Winter Soldier. She didn’t blame her at all, but still, their coworkers didn’t need to be privy to their depraved bestie conversations. That’s what the chat was for. “Annnnnnd that is how we end up back at the supervisor’s office for inappropriate work conversations.”

Kalenda scoffed, waving off her concern with a dismissive hand-wave. “Oh, like you’ve never said anything filthy.” Her wicked grin should have been the warning. “Something something ‘star-spangled cock could split you open any time he wanted’? Something something ‘break him down to the frame’... any of that sound familiar?”

Her leering green gaze as she slipped on her headset made Echo giggle even as heat rushed to her cheeks. “You could shut up any time now.”

The laughter was shortlived, though, as they settled into their workday. Having a headset on meant that it was time to serve the citizens of NYC and the officers of NYPD to the best of their abilities. They were one of, if not the, largest comm center in the country and Echo was proud of the work she did, contributing to the safety of her town.

It was easy to get lost in the work, one call at a time, one radio run at a time. Her focus, scattered as it could be at any other time, easily fell into the rhythm of call and response, action and reaction, hours slipping by unnoticed.

Voices behind her and down at the end of her row drew her attention, their familiarity abruptly yanking her out of the zone.

One pair of eyes zeroed in on her immediately. “Well, if it isn’t the crash test dummy.”

Boisterously loud for the locale, Tony Stark was the walking definition of ‘all eyes on me’. He may have been in a crazy expensive suit and tie, looking all prim and proper and what have you, but the curve of his lips promised the most interesting kinds of mischief.

Echo swallowed hard as she made herself unavailable for calls, her eyes quickly darting left and right to the unabashed gawking of her coworkers. Oh, they were still busy as hell, but the nosy bastards were never above a good spectacle. “Mr. Stark.”

“Did the phone meet your standards?” he demanded with a smirk that seemed a little too knowing. He stopped behind her chair, spinning her around to face him.

She nodded hesitantly. “It did, thank you. I mailed you a thank you note. Did you not get it?”

Yes, it had been an old school touch, but sending him an email seemed a little impersonal, especially since he’d gone to the trouble of transferring all her stuff over in addition to giving her a top of the line bit of tech. And it wasn’t like she could just show up on his doorstep with a casserole.

He snorted, his billion dollar smile on full display as his eyes crinkled at the edges. “I did, but then, I expected nothing less considering you hang out with the geriatric set.”

She was about to ask what he meant when another voice cut her off. “Tony, Jesus, man. Quiet down, people are working here—oh, hey Echo.”

She sincerely hoped the whimpering squeak as she spun quickly to face him she heard was just in her head, though Kalenda’s snort behind her indicated no such luck. “Hi. James. I-I mean Bucky. Um…” her eyes met her bestie’s just behind him for some help, but only found the kind of mocking encouragement born from years of friendship. “Nice to see you. Here. At my job.”

“Um yeah, about that…” The brunet smoothed his long bangs back out of his face behind his ears and grinned bashfully as he rubbed the back of his neck. Under other circumstances, she and Kalenda would be ogling him for the way the seams of his deep blue henley were barely clinging to life across his shoulders and around his massive arms and the skinny jeans that were all but wrecking her concentration. “Cap and Tony had a meeting at 1PP and Stevie wanted me to tag along.”

“I’m glad he did.” The way her compliment made his cheeks flush felt like winning an award, even if the normal filter she kept up at work slipped a bit.

“Me too.” The tiny shy grin that danced at the corners of his lips was killing her slowly, even as the somewhat awkward silence stretched out between them.

Kalenda’s obvious throat-clearing seemed to startle her back into herself, reminding her acutely of both their location and their audience.

“Well, it’s always good to see you.” The platitude was automatic, off her tongue and into the space between them before she even thought about it, her nerves robbing her mind of anything but decent manners. Good gods, she was never gonna live this down.

“You look good.” His eyes widened a moment later as he flushed bright red, clearly that hadn’t been what he’d meant to come out of his mouth. “I mean, that is… you look better than when I saw you last time.”

“Hard not to,” she conceded, her mind bordering on hysterical the longer this conversation went on. It felt like the whole world was watching this junior-high level farce and she was stumbling through it, quite badly.

“Well, on the upside, you’re wearing more clothes this time,” Tony interjected oh-so-helpfully, looking like he was avidly watching the best telenovela ever and doing nothing to quell the likely overheating rumor mill that had just kicked into gear around them. “And there’s less blood.”

“Alright, thank you, Mr. Stark,” Shelly, the floor supervisor’s breathlessly cheerful voice sounded like she’d rather eat broken glass than let that conversation continue as she rushed across the room to join them. “Echo, Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, and Captain Rogers—”

“Hello, Echo.”

She was almost afraid to look, though Kalenda’s dreamy sigh left her no other choice. Sure enough, the gods of horniness were testing her and pretty much every woman in the five boroughs with these three Avengers out together. In a black t-shirt under a green button-down and jeans that gave her the most impure thoughts possible about his thighs, the blond Avenger with the pink cheeks grinned at her warmly from his spot behind Tony. The fact her panties didn’t burst into flames right there was a miracle of modern physics.

“Hey Steve.”

“As I was saying,” her supervisor huffed, bringing all of the attention back to her, “they’re here to tour the center, so we should really be on our way.”

Sounded reasonable to her, so long as they were there, Echo doubted there’d be much work done anyway. “Alright then.” Echo turned back to her console to take stock of her district. “It was good to see you. Be safe out there.”

“Before we go though…” Buck’s half-grin as he met her eye over her shoulder warmed her to her toes. “You out of here soon?”

“A few hours. Why?”

“Wanna meet up for a late dinner?”

His hopeful expression tugged at her heart. It was the kind of thing that made her want to give him the world, even if she didn’t know him like that. “It’ll be after ten,” she hedged, perched on the fence between really wanting to spend time with them because who wouldn’t, really, and knowing that she’s no one special and didn’t have any business tagging along with them.

“Then we’ll leave a light on for ya,” Steve replied cheerfully as he and Bucky were led further into the center and away from her desk. “See you tonight.”

“Always a pleasure, Crash,” Tony called, following behind him.

Echo sat blinking at her console as she watched the group retreat, only spurred to action when she caught Steve’s eye as he winked at her before leaving the room.

“What just happened?” she asked the Universe at large as she typed in the login code for her phone from muscle memory.

“Looks to me,” Kalenda replied lightly dropping off a new bottle of caffeinated water, “like you have a date after work.”

“Huh.” The very idea was mindblowing. Quickly, her mind was shaken from its haze by a bank robbery that required both her and Kalenda’s attention for quite a while.

“And had the nerve not to introduce me.”

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buckysouvenir · 8 months

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the most beautiful man <3

#bê rants tbh #bucky barnes #beefy bucky barnes #cw bucky barnes

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likeahorribledream · 1 year

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For my new bikerverse we have:

Bucky Barnes

Chris:

Nomad Steve:

And Ari:

They will each have a love story of their own with different OFCs! With different tropes 🤭

Who else do you want to see with these fine gentlemen?

Reminder that it doesn’t have to be a Chris or Seb character. I’m open to all suggestions 😁

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #nomad Steve #nomad Steve rogers #beefy Bucky barnes #beefy Bucky #destroyer chris #destroyer!chris #ari levinson #bikerverse #biker series

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buckyalpine · 5 months

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Imagine beefy Bucky with a baby girl. That’s his tiny princess. His little angel. She’s nearly invisible the first time he carries her, the little bundle lost in his thick arms. Her tiny hand hardly wraps around his finger, holding onto him while he caressed her soft chubby cheeks.

He’s in tears the first time she’s placed in his hold, her first instinct being to nuzzle into his warm chest.

Just like her mama.

She's so delicate and precious, he never wants to let her go. He wants to keep her warm, safe and protected forever, giving her the most feather light kisses while snuggling her close.

She loves his voice, easily falling asleep to it when he reads and sings to her. She coos when he's near by, happily squealing when she hears his footsteps, ready for the warmest cuddles in daddy's firm, strong arms. She loves to lay her head against his chest where she can hear his heart beat, falling asleep every time he carries her.

It makes everyone around the compound melt into a puddle every time they witness it. This large mass of metal and muscle cooing and giggling at the tiny bundle of pink sleeping on his chest, swaying with her while she clutches onto his dogtags.

Sam and Tony initially want to tease him over it but its just so wholesome, all the sneaky pictures they take are saved for memories. Steve could spend hours watching his best friend become a husband, a father, happy to see him get a happy ending that he deserves. He loves seeing the way Bucky's face lights up when your by his side, looking at you with pure heart eyes.

He loves to spend time with the both of you in your shared bedroom, keeping you in his lap while his little one nurses, caressing your skin, telling you how much he loves you both. He loves intimate moments like this where his kisses and touches are purely from how much he loves you. You always almost fall asleep because of how warm he is and he loves it every time. As soon as your eyes grow heavy, he takes his baby from your arms, helping you lie down before rocking and burping her. He wipes her little pouty lips, before soothing her to sleep.

As soon as she's in her crib, he's there to tend to you next, rubbing your back while you're already softly snoring, sighing contently feeling his touch.

This is the life he's dreamed of and there's nothing that could get better than this.

Until a few weeks later where he'll find out he has a baby boy on the way.

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

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You’re Mine, Sunshine

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?

♡ Warnings: mentions of amputation, light angst, hints to violence, mentions of death, bucky being a grumpy man

Part 2

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!AU Bodyguard!AU

“Mr. Barnes, your résumé so far is quite impressive.” Pierce acknowledged with a slow nod.

Bucky of course had a trained eye, but the glares that were not so subtly sent his way by the big boss— were intimidating. He wasn’t scared, no. He simply respected this man’s power. Bucky knew better than to get on the bad side of someone like Pierce.

“Says here you’re an amputee?” Pierce asked so bluntly, and he noticed Bucky’s eyes squint slightly. “Sorry, if I’m overstepping but nothing will be overlooked.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.” Bucky assured him. “Yes, I lost my left arm during a mission way back.”

Pierce furrowed his brows.

“Mission? I take it you used to be an agent of some sort.” He assumed.

Bucky nodded.

“Hm, very good. Continue.” He waved him on.

“I had some surgical procedures— and now I have a prosthetic.”

Bucky lifted his left arm, rolling his sleeve slightly up to expose the metal to the boss. Pierce hummed impressively, taking in the intricate designs on the metal.

“I can assure you that me having a prosthetic will not be an issue— my arm is made out of only the strongest metal. Bullet proof, in fact.” He added, hoping it would further impress the boss, proving just how perfect for the job he was.

It wasn’t his dream to be a bodyguard, actually it was quite a low in his career— if you asked him. He had fallen out of his previous steady job, due to some complications. He had the experience of being a bodyguard— just not for only one person. It would be a weird change for him, but he was willing to take on the challenge. Also, the pay was nice.

Pierce hummed again, the information that his prosthetic arm was bullet proof— only satisfying him more.

“Like I said, impressive Mr. Barnes. But this is an extremely important task. My only daughter, who must be protected at all costs.” Pierce trailed off, expression growing serious. “It’s been a hard adjustment since the passing of my wife, my daughter is all I have left.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, knowing what it was like to lose loved ones. In fact, that wound was still fresh on him.

“If I allow you to take on this role, you are to swear to yourself that you will do whatever it takes to keep her alive— no matter what.” Pierce spoke loudly, his voice orotund.

Bucky in the back of his mind thought about his choice of words. ‘If I allow you.’ Bucky respected this man, but he had to hold back the scoff that threatened to escape his lips at his statement.

“Do you think you’re ready for that?” Pierce challenged, and suddenly it wasn’t about his daughter at all. It was a man challenging another man, a task that he deemed impossible.

His metal hand behind his back whirred in annoyance. After all that fluffing his head up, complimenting his training. It was clear Pierce thought so little of him, and at that— it made Bucky wanna take the job even more. Just to prove him wrong.

“Yes sir.” Bucky promised, shaking Pierces hand in a firm— slightly aggressive shake.

Pierce smiled, dropping Bucky’s résumé on his desk. Getting himself comfortable, he sat on the edge of the front of the desk, crossing his arms.

“Now, let’s go through what is to be expected.” He started, Bucky nodded for him to continue. “You are to be with her at all times, except for when you sleep. You do sleep right?”

Bucky let the scoff escape this time, but it wasn’t as aggressive as he wanted it to be.

“I’ve got a metal arm, but I’m still human sir.”

Pierce chuckled to himself, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. This man thinks he’s so funny.

“Right. You must never let her leave your sight, if she wants to see her friends— you’ll be seeing them with her. Not that it’s going to be an issue, I don’t think she has many friends… or any.” The boss shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about his daughter.

Bucky nodded, taking everything in.

“You are going to be staying with her in the safe house… well— she thinks it’s just a house but the area is guarded with my men.” He shrugged again. “I’m a successful man and with that comes enemies, people who look for my weaknesses. You know that.”

Bucky gave a tight lipped smile, Pierce so far sounding like a father of the year.

“Now, about my daughter. Her name is (Y/n) (Y/L/n), and she is a handful.” Pierce stated frustratedly. “She’s rude, ungrateful, nasty— and just overall extremely difficult.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, rethinking his decision to be a bodyguard for this girl. Fucking lovely.

“You can now understand why I’m paying you the offered amount. It’s only fair to you, Mr. Barnes. Truthfully, I can’t deal with her anymore. I love her, and she’s my daughter but… It just doesn’t work out with me. I’m a busy man— I don’t have time for brats.” Pierce spat, straightening up and heading back around his desk.

Bucky had already been creating this mental image of you, so far you sounded like a witch. He was not at all ready to be dealing with you 24/7.

“Doesn’t sound like a problem boss, I’m happy to be protecting your daughter. Nobody will lay a hair on her head, I swear on my life.” Bucky promised again, bowing his head slightly.

“Oh I know. If anything happens to her and I find out you were slacking even by an inch… well you’re a smart man, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Pierce warned, and Bucky swallowed at the mere intimidation that laced his voice.

But he would not back down to this challenge, which is how he saw this— not a job.

“That will be all Mr. Barnes, (Y/n) is around here somewhere. Find her and take her home.” He told Bucky, putting on his glasses— focusing on his paperwork.

“Yes sir.”

Bucky nodded and turned to exit the room. He was so confused with the interaction. You’d think someone who hires a bodyguard for their daughter would know where their daughter is. The way he spoke about you was off putting. Bucky didn’t even know you, but it felt wrong to hear someone talk so little about you. What did he know anyway— apparently you were a monster.

He made his way through the building with a swift walk, needing to fulfill his duties and find you quickly. He was on the third floor, about to hit the button to the elevator when he saw a young lady. Despite him wanting to find you all on his own, he got her attention.

“Excuse me,” He waved to her with a fake smile, “Do you know where I can find (Y/n) (Y/L/n)?”

The lady smiled and took Bucky by surprise by laughing. His fake smile vanished immediately, his eyes squinting in a annoyed expression.

“That would be me!” You exclaimed with a warm smile.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he thought for a second he was being fucked with, but after you stayed smiling at him, being as patient as ever— he knew you weren’t joking.

“Uh right… Your dad is Pierce?” He asked hesitantly, keeping his guard up. Still thinking someone was messing with him— testing him.

You nodded slowly, giving him a curious expression. Your smile never wavering.

“Yes, and you are?” You asked so politely.

Bucky shouldn’t of been as shocked as he was but truthfully, he was expecting a demon spawn of a person. Red eyes, withered flowers left in your path, a literal storm cloud floating over you— but you looked so normal. So sweet and pretty. Your hair smelled so strongly of strawberry shampoo, he could catch the scent from his spot. Your voice was like honey, the sound soothing.

He was confused as to why your father thought so wrongly of you. He had too many questions.

He cleared his throat, straightening himself now that he believed you were who he was looking for.

“(Y/n), my name is Mr. Barnes— I’ve been hired as your personal bodyguard.” He informed you, watching the corners of your mouth falter slightly.

“Oh, did my Father hire you?” You asked politely.

“Yes ma’am.”

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a smile on your face. But you couldn’t help the distaste for being given a bodyguard. You knew it was only for the sole purpose, that your Father didn’t want to care for you anymore. He wanted nothing to do with you. That fact was enough to make your nose start to burn, but you held yourself together— not wanting to break down in front of this new guy.

Bucky watched you take in the information, the way you took a deep breath, almost controlling yourself before you spoke again.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.” You told him.

Bucky shook his head, an annoyed expression etching his face.

“Ma’am, I think we should keep things professional. I have been hired as your bodyguard. Let me do my job, and you can continue with your day as usual. You won’t even know I’m here half the time.” He explained rather harshly.

You seemed taken aback, his words hurting you more than they should’ve. You were lonely, and you thought you’d be able to get a friend out of this situation. Even if he was being hired to hang around you. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as he told you off. The burning felt stronger in your nose, and you took another deep breath.

Bucky only felt bad for a second, but he was quickly snapping back to reality. It was his life on the line to protect you, and if Bucky was anything— it was that he was good at doing his job. This was business, not playtime.

“I’m here to take you home. Are you ready?” He asked you.

You relaxed your quick beating heart, not even having time to speak with your Father. Not that he’d want to anyway. So much had changed since your Mother passed, you had yet to heal those wounds.

You nodded with a weaker smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. If Bucky had noticed your sudden mood change, he didn’t mention it— instead guiding you outside.

He opened the door to the car that was waiting outside for you, climbing in himself after you were settled.

He started driving to your place, with the help of the car telling him directions.

Meanwhile you gazed out the window, watching the buildings pass by. You forced yourself to keep a small smile on your face, hoping you’d convince yourself that the gesture was genuine if you did it long enough.

Bucky glanced back at you through the rear view mirror from time to time, watching you look out the window. He was still trying to come to terms with how polite you were, how completely opposite you were to your Fathers description.

On one hand it was a relief that he didn’t have to deal with the devil. On the other hand… he was anxious to see where this job would lead him.

A/N: I don’t know what is wrong with me, but suddenly I had this urge to write a bodyguard!bucky fic. let’s be honest, we are all slut’s for bodyguard!bucky 😭 I’m also a whore for the trope grumpy x sunshine 🥰🥴 let me know what you think— this is all word vomit.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #fluff #marvel imagines #light angst #oneshot #bodyguard bucky barnes #bodyguard au #mob au #grumpy x sunshine #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #mini series

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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On The Run

Pairing: Fugitive!Bucky Barnes x Fugitive!Reader Summary: Inspired by I Know Places, Getaway Car, and Cowboy Like Me

"You were prettier back then," a familiar voice suddenly says from beside Bucky.

His shoulders stiffen momentarily, pulling his eyes away from his own little exhibit only to see the top of your baseball cap pulled low on your head. His jaw clenches, metal fist tightening as he remains unsure if you've come as friend or foe. Foe, he's almost entirely certain. "Who sent you?"

You playfully scoff. "I don't take orders anymore. You know that."

"What do you want?"

You wryly chuckle, your nonchalance taunting, irking, Bucky. "What makes you think I want anything?"

Now, it's his turn to scoff. Coincidences like this don't just happen. He knows this well. "You just happened to be here?"

You languidly shrug. And he's not sure if you know how bad you're pissing him off or if you're really just trying not to call attention to yourself. "You've pissed off a lot of people. We're supposed to be laying low," you cheekily remind him.

"What I do has nothing to do with you," he curtly murmurs, though he knows that's not entirely true.

He leisurely begins walking away, slow, without purpose to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Without hesitation or fear, you reach out and clutch his vibranium arm. What bothers him even more is that your hold actually roots him in place. Your hold still on his arm, you hiss under your breath, "Hey, things start going to shit for you, they start going to shit for me too."

His jaw clenches tightly. "I know."

"I know a place," you offer.

"Use it for yourself," Bucky grimaces.

"You know, I don't have to be here. I don't have to help you," you point out.

"Your point?"

"Right now, take all the friends you can get," you say, dropping your hand from his arm. "People aren't exactly lining up to help you out."

Bucky's clenched jaw loosens, he's smart enough to know when the cards are stacked against him. And right now, he had a losing hand. "Fine."

"Don't sound so excited, Soldier."

He grunts, "Lead the way."

He spares one last glance at his exhibit before following you out the side exit. A life he'd lived, but long forgotten. All culminating in a life on the run. But he is. He is on the run, and he needs to focus on that.

So he follows you. Down a restricted hallway. To an emergency exit. Then, a steel door with a large painted 'emergency exit' sign on it. Though the door warns that an alarm will sound, not a single sound is made as you freely swing the door open and step out into the disgusting alleyway.

There's a car waiting there. You've already hopped in and he pretends not to notice that the car is almost certainly stolen.

In fact, he doesn't say anything.

He offers not a single nicety, not a murmur of small talk, he remains completely silent as you drive past city limits. He keeps his eyes trained out the road in front of you, the passing terrain becoming more unfamiliar with each passing hour.

On the small plane that you somehow managed to commandeer, he keeps one eye on you piloting the otherwise empty aircraft.

And still he says nothing.

After many hours of silent travel, it's nightfall when you pull up to the unassuming apartment building in a completely new country. You grab both duffle bags stowed in the backseat of yet another mysteriously commandeered car, and with your heads low, you make your way up the rusty metal staircase. He tries to pinpoint exactly where you are. He knows he should've asked and that he probably could still ask, but the silence now feels like some weird competition of who can hold out the longest.

The air is cold, the houses sparse and rundown, but the landscapes vast and breathtakingly beautiful.

He allows himself only the shortest of seconds to scan the area and to feel the fresh breeze on his face before he follows you.

His boots thump and echo against the metal steps, and he can hear the heavy metal door groan as you unlock the door. He makes it up the flight of stairs just in time to see you forcefully open the door with your shoulder as your battering ram.

With his only two impressions of his newest hideout being the stairs and the door you almost tore down to get in to this place, he steps into the apartment with very little expectations.

But in spite of the derelict nature of the building and door, the place inside isn't terrible. Especially not for a fugitive. It's relatively furnished, a bed and a couch in the small studio apartment. There's a small metal table in the small kitchen and another wooden one in front of the pull-out couch. There's running electricity and indoor plumbing. He knows that, for all intents and purposes, this was as good as he was going to get right now.

You chuck the two bags on the small wooden coffee table, Bucky following your lead and dumping his alongside yours.

"This place isn't terrible so let's try to make it stick, alright?" you rhetorically ask, speaking as though you hadn't spent the better part of 18 hours without a word between the two of you.

"Fine."

"Okay, listen up," you command, though there's still remnants of your playfully sarcastic tone. You start unpacking the first bag, holding up a manila envelope, "Paper file for the technologically inept."

The muscles in his jaw ticks because of course. Of course you weren't helping him for the sake of being a good samaritan, you needed him for something, a job, a mission, an assignment. Something. Still, through gritted teeth, he asks, "What is it?"

"It's everything I gathered. Everything I know," you say, sliding the file across the table to land right in front of Bucky. "I figured I shouldn't know more about you than you do."

He falters, the tension in his expression stuttering to a confused, furrowed look. He looks down at the file in front of him. He opens it and it's exactly what you said it was. He sees his name printed on the first page: James Buchanan Barnes. All of his basic information followed by pages and pages of forgotten memories. "You're just giving this to me?"

"My act of kindness for the day," you flippantly remark, continuing to unpack the bag. Bucky scoffs, his guard snapping right back up. He knows that there's more to it. More that you're omitting, more answers that you conceal in half-truths and roundabout answers. Before he can call you out, you continue, "Everything that you'll need should be in walking distance. Some cash that should last you a while. There's a burner in the bag if you need me. Try not to need me."

"You're not staying?" Bucky questions, putting the file to watch you pick up one of the two bags.

"Easier to lay low alone."

"What are you going to do?" he ask before he can think better.

"Don't worry about me. I know places," you quip, a mischievous grin on your face. He knows that you know exactly what you're doing. The emotional and mental whiplash gives him no opportunity to ask questions, to demand answers. Before he can collect himself and stop you, you're walking out of the apartment. Only to turn back around and with your signature lighthearted, wry sarcasm, you ask, "Is it insensitive for me to say, 'get your shit together'?"

Bucky wordlessly shrugs, unsure of what to do with himself, or how to accept the strange act of kindness.

You nod, offering him a kind smile. Before the door closes, you add, "Get your shit together, Soldier. It's not going to get easier."

Bucky nods once in understanding, "Thanks."

A Year Later...

His quiet, borderline normal life, lasted approximately a year.

A year before he saw the headline falsely accusing him.

A year before Steve stood in his apartment, begging him to let him bring Bucky in.

He ran from your place with only the black duffle bag you left him on his back.

And he's running. Running from everyone. From his friend from a lifetime ago. From the newly crowned King of Wakanda. From Tony Stark and SHIELD.

The little burner phone weighs heavily in his pocket. He contemplated calling you, but what were the chances that you'd show up for him again?

None, he decided.

He hadn't heard from you in a year. The phone probably didn't even work anymore.

His eyes frantically sweep the area around him. And to say it was bleak was an understatement.

He's surrounded, all his enemies closing in on him from every direction when the burner rings at what has to be the most inconvenient time in recorded history.

He's not even really sure why he answers. But he does, pressing the phone to his ear before his entire life collapses before him.

Over the sound of his heavy footsteps still running, he hears you chuckle, "Laying low really means nothing to you, does it?"

"A little busy," Bucky grunts, holding the phone in the crook of his neck.

"I can see that."

"Wha-"

"Look up. On the overpass." He looks up at the overpass almost directly above him, the sleek silver sports car that's revving its engine. "Unless you want to keep playing with your friends?"

He huffs, but as much as he hates to admit it, it's one hell of a life saver. He doesn't think, just does. He narrowly escapes Steve's grip, jumping on a large SHIELD SUV, then grabbing the railing to the overpass. As he vaults himself onto the road, shots ring out all around him.

You impatiently rev the engine again. And you do so with a cheeky grin, pissing Bucky off before he's even interacted with you.

He flings the door open and before he's even fully in the car, you take off. You zoom through the busy streets, expertly dodging civilian cars skidding to a halt, pedestrians gawking at the high speed car chase, Bucky's innumerable enemies all chasing the car. And through all this chaos, you seem completely unburdened, not at all worried that you'll be caught.

"Here," you order, offering no greeting before handing Bucky the handgun in your holster. "Make yourself useful. And put your seatbelt."

He scoffs at the seemingly ridiculous statement, but says nothing, wasting no time before throwing his seatbelt on and aiming the gun out the window at the cars now tailing you. The overwhelming sounds of the high speed chase thrum in Bucky's ears, as though he could feel the sirens in the beat of his heart.

He wants to credit himself and his excellent shooting skills as to how the two of you evaded all the cars the cars slowly but surely, but he can't. Not at all. The clip of the gun you gave him is empty before he knows it.

"There's more toys in the back," you instruct.

He turns so his torso is no longer leaning out of the car. He looks forward for a moment and sees the caution lights warning you that the very bridge you're about to drive on to will rise in the center, blockading any car from moving any further, flickering just a few meters in front of you.

Without pause, you drive onto the bridge anyway, toeing the gas to propel the car even faster.

"The bridge," he warns.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. That's how we're going to lose them," you cryptically remark, pumping the gas pedal again. "You have your seatbelt on, right?"

He ignores your question, bracing himself for whatever is about to happen. "You're not going to make it."

"I'll make it."

"You're not going to-"

There's no time to finish his words before the definitely stolen car is hauling up the rising ends of the bridge. His hand flies up to grip the passenger handle as you use the risen bridge as your ramp to freedom.

His stomach lurches as you breeze through the air. And the short moment that the car flies through the air feels like an eternity, the entire time Bucky thinks to himself that you're not going to make it. That SHIELD is going to fish you out of the water and you'll both be arrested.

Only for the tires to hideously squeal when you hit the pavement. The car violently rattles and the smell of burned rubber fills the car, but there isn't a moment to doubt whether the car will still work because you're still hauling it down the street.

"Told you I could make it," you breathlessly laugh, your knuckles white as you clutch the steering wheel.

"You're crazy," he exhales, though you can almost swear you hear a hint of a chuckle from him.

With only a helicopter desperately trying to maintain visual left on your tail, you swerve into a tunnel, losing everyone pursuing Bucky.

When he's certain you've lost everyone chasing him, he takes a deep breath, taking a moment to enjoy the light of freedom on his face before he's forced back into hiding. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Now what?" he reluctantly asks.

For all he knows, you're going to dump him and his duffle bag out on the side of the road before he gets the both of you caught.

"Now, we ditch the car. Then, I've got another place where you can lay low," you offer, much to Bucky's surprise.

This time he clearly hears the 'you'. You have a place for him. He shakes away his objection, focusing on the task at hand.

Even more surprisingly, you pull into a packed parking garage. The kind that you don't need a ticket to get in our out. Your baseball cap still pulled low on your head, you pull into a parking spot with cars parked on either side of you.

"Grab the bags," you instruct.

He nods, grabbing all three bags from the backseat. Then he watches as you scratch the VIN number on the dashboard, the model number from the side of the door, in one quick, sharp movement, you tear off the license plates, then wipe down everything that you or Bucky touched.

"Thorough," Bucky comments, slightly impressed by your attention to detail and how quickly you just stripped the car of anything that could be traced back to you.

"Thanks."

"And now we steal another car?"

"Steal. Borrow," you shrug. "Same difference."

"But we're stealing?" he asks, bothered by your nonchalant reaction to grand theft auto.

"Oh, definitely," you freely laugh.

Though it deeply bothers him, he says nothing.

Beggars can't be choosers, he tells himself.

And anyway, you're still helping him. Even if he doesn't have the faintest idea of why you're doing it.

You languidly search through the garage as though you're just shopping for a car and definitely not on the run. Just as he's about to demand that you move faster, you pull on the door of a small, unremarkable sedan. It doesn't look old, but it's not flashy - he has no clue why it caught your eye.

He figures that's probably the point. You unceremoniously pull at the door handle. And just like every other time, he swears that it's not going to work. That the car alarm will go off or at the very least the car will be locked and you'll be left looking for another car.

But to his surprise, and annoyance, the door opens without a problem. No alarms ring through the garage. There's no struggle or broken windows. It's that simple for you.

"Special toy," you cheekily explain, flashing Bucky the small device as you duck into the car.

He rolls his eyes but climbs into the passenger seat, dumping the three bags into the backseat again. He briefly wonders why you have two bags for yourself when he could've sworn that a year ago you only had one. He dismisses it, a lot can change in a year. But there's a pesky little thought in the back of his head that something isn't adding up. While he's trying to reason everything out, you drive off without another word.

"What did you even do?" you ask after a considerable time in silence, your tone too light and playful for Bucky to even consider it an accusation.

"Nothing," he swears.

"Well, what do they think you did?"

"Wait," he falters, unused to anyone giving him the benefit of the doubt anymore. And that you do so without hesitation, even more questions crop up in Bucky's head. "You believe me?"

"You've never given me a reason not to."

"The UN. They think it was me."

"Jesus," you exhale, shaking your head to tame the runaway thoughts.

"Why are you here?" he asks, his tone bordering on accusation again.

"Saw your face in the paper. Was passing through. Thought you'd like a getaway car."

He watches you for a moment, looking at your focused expression for any signs of insincerity. And though he can't quite reconcile the events that brought you here, he finds not a trace of deceit on your face, "Thanks."

It doesn't sit right with him. There's things that you're not saying. This endless rotary of places that you have that you're just offering up. Especially after he just blew the cover of one of your safe-houses.

And it bothers him even more how nonchalant you are about it all. You seem completely unaffected by the fact that everyone is looking for Bucky. And by helping him, they're looking for you too.

After crossing several borders and escaping the areas where he's most wanted, he feels only marginally better. He wants to go straight into hiding, to get to this place of yours and stick his head in the sand for the next six months until it all mostly dies down.

Even as the sun lowers on the horizon, he doesn't feel safe. He feels vulnerable out here in plain sight.

But you take him to a bar.

He shakes his head in disbelief because you actually take him to a bar.

A bar, of all places.

It sits on the very edge of a city that's a little too populated for Bucky's liking. He's on edge from the very moment you walk in.

While you walk in with your chin up and a wide, flirtatious grin that just begs to be looked at, his legs shake with unbridled anxiety, his jaw hasn't unclenched since you first picked him up, and his head pounds with millions of rampant worries.

And you look perfectly fine.

From when you order a round of drinks and a greasy burger for the two of you, you look completely and totally at ease.

You casually sip at your drink. Your eyes roam around the bar, slowly drinking in the entire scene before you. The patrons drunkenly boasting about their respective wealth and their ostentatious lifestyles. The bartender that flirts with you every time you approach for a fresh drink.

He remains in the booth, watching you make trip after trip to the bar. It's after your fourth trip that he grabs your wrist as you move to stand up again. "We should go."

You slide back in the booth with your empty glass still in hand and prop one of your feet up. "You need to relax. Have some food, drink a little. We're gonna be fine."

"I can't get drunk."

"Neither can I, but you don't see that stopping me," you chuckle, downing the rest of your Old-Fashioned.

"Can you take this seriously? We need to get out of here," he hisses, leaning as close to you as the table will allow him to.

"Fine," you groan. "But one more drink."

He huffs, but you still get up and slowly saunter to the bar. You leisurely flag down the bartender, tipping your glass toward him with a flirty smirk. He watches as you casually giggle and hang onto every word the man says as he prepares your drink.

"Thank you," you coo, your hand resting on the man's forearm as he hands you the drink.

You don't come back to the table this time.

You sip at your drink, slowly swirling the liquor with the small wooden skewer. Just as Bucky's about to stand up and haul you out of the bar, another blonde, greasy-haired man approaches. Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw this guy with another girl. Presumably his date for the evening. Only moments ago, his date got up to use the bathroom, and here the man was shamelessly flirting with you.

You showed no signs of telling this man to leave you alone nor made any indication that his advances were unwelcome. No, you lean into him, laughing a little too hard at slurred jokes and brazen come-ons.

"What the hell is she doing?" Bucky mutters to himself.

You lean so far into the man that, for a moment, Bucky worries that you're going to fall off the bar stool. Just as he's sure that you're going to fall or kiss the guy, you playfully push the guy's shoulder away.

Bucky lets out a breath of relief, relief that he doesn't want to admit that he feels.

And just when he's confused as hell, he sees your left hand. The one sneaking into the man's obscenely expensive leather jacket and slyly stealing his wallet.

He scoffs in utter disbelief. He knows he can't really claim the moral high ground, but still he snatches up his jacket, slaps a twenty on the table and leaves in a huff. He doesn't look back to see if you're following him, but he can hear from the crunch on the gravel that tells him you are.

He's not even sure why he tried to leave the bar in the first place. He knows you have the keys and that you're the only one that knows the location of the safe-house. But God, that stunt pissed him off.

"So you're a thief now?" he accuses over his shoulder.

You gasp, mostly in a playful tone, "I resent that, I am not a thief! I prefer con artist. More classy."

He stands at the passenger door impatiently waiting for you to unlock the car. You're unhurried and take a moment to notice how even in the dead of night, even as he glares at you, his eyes are stunningly blue. "You just stole that guy's wallet!"

"I only steal from people who deserve it," you defend, finally unlocking the car.

"And what exactly did that guy do?"

"Besides trying to slip a little something in that girl's drink?" you rhetorically question, holding up the little packet of crushed up powder the guy had been itching to use all night, then examining the content's of the man's wallet. You look at the man's ID with a furrowed face. "His name is also Chad. You just know he's an asshole."

Bucky sighs deeply, opening the car door in a huff, "What happened to laying low?"

"He hasn't even noticed his wallet's gone," you dismiss, climbing into the driver's seat. "And he's wasted, he won't notice until tomorrow morning. He's been running a tab all night so he'll just think he left it here. And by then, we'll be long gone. It's not a big deal."

"And if you get caught?"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. "I was trained in the Red Room, I think I can handle some lame trust fund baby."

"Don't pull that shit with me anymore."

You roll your eyes and start the car, "Et tu, Brutus."

In the silence, you think about the last year. The old men you swindled and conned that really believed you were the one. Each word you whispered in their ears, promising them that it could be love. Passing through town after town like a bandit, only to disappear like an elusive puff of smoke.

It hurt a little more than you wanted to acknowledge that Bucky judged you for the things you'd done. You thought that out of everyone, he might be one of the few people that could understand, a bandit just like you.

Though you began your drive at the very beginning of nightfall, the sun slowly creeps up on the horizon when you break the tense silence, "Well, I hesitate saying this since you're still in a pissy mood, but before we get any closer to the safe house, we're going to have to switch cars again."

"How far away are we?"

"Couple hundred miles out."

"And we need to switch now?" he grumbles.

"Yes. We switch now, make it look like we're going East when we're going West. Gets them off our trail for a while longer."

"Are you going to steal the car too?" Bucky snarkily mutters.

"Oh my God, you're still on this! Why do you even care?"

"Because it's wrong!" he chides.

"The way I see it, us traitors never win, so forgive me if I really don't give a shit."

"I'm not a thief."

"Whatever," you scoff. "And yes, we're paying for the car. In cash. No paper trail. No stolen cars that people are looking for."

This second part of the trip is even worse than the first. Even worse than the trip you made with him a year ago.

To fill the tempestuous, suffocating silence, you blast the radio. You don't care if Bucky's glaring holes at the side of your head in clear displeasure, you do it anyway. As he scoffs his way through a shady, back-alley car dealer with an even sleazier salesman, you smirk and pretend like you don't notice his terrible attitude.

You flirt your way through a incredible deal with even more incredibly forged documents. He takes a glance at them as you're going through all the motions and he swears they look like legitimate. The only difference between himself and the salesman is that he knows better.

And once you're settled in an even crappier, but much more legal, used car, you turn down the obnoxiously loud music because you see Bucky's eyelids drooping, the exhaustion etched in his features as the adrenaline from the days prior leave his system.

You watch as he fights the sleep that slowly over comes him, each sleepy droop of his heavy eyelids warded off by a sharp jolt of his head snapping upright as though he's been watching you the entire time. You know he's about to crash, he's fighting against days worth of travel and a draining life on the run. You know this exhaustion well.

And you turn the music off completely when he starts quietly snoring in the passenger seat. You steal a few glances at him as you drive through the open road. The age melts off of him when his eyebrows aren't furrowed at you, when the judgement isn't as clear as the day that passes you by on the open road, nor the scowl that seems to be specially reserved for you.

You drive the entire way, stopping only at gas stations where you fill the tank and grab some crappy gas-station junk food for the two of you.

It's entirely miserable and you yourself don't know why you're going this far out of your way to help someone who so clearly wants nothing to do with you, but there's a part of you that's glad you're going it anyway.

You're glad because you believe him. You believe that he's not a bad man. Not when he's the reason you escaped the clutches of the Red Room. You see a person who was put in circumstances just as unfortunate as your own.

And you remind yourself of that until the car screeches to a halt in front of another of your safe-houses.

"Home, sweet home," you sarcastically retort, dropping the bag on the couch as you both enter the safe-house. "For you, anyway."

You waste no time unzipping the bag to reveal its contents to get Bucky on his feet and partially sustain him until he has to move again.

Except this time, he sees the wad of cash, nicely bundled, sitting right on top of the bag's contents. He doesn't even know why it bothers him so much. You're right, he has no moral superiority here. He doesn't even really care about that sleaze-ball you robbed blind.

You're right, the guy will be fine.

It's you, he decides.

You're what's pissing him off. Not the days worth of travel he wears. Not the fact that he's a fugitive.

It's you.

Your aloofness.

Answers that are riddled with half-truths and heavily redacted plans. The fact that he can't pin you down. That he has no clue what you want from him nor why you're going this far out of your way to help him.

Loose lips sink ships. But so do loose cannons.

He knows it's you that's pissing him off and still, he looks up from the wad of cash in the bag back up to you with silent accusations in his eyes.

You shake your head at the man, feeling the considerable amounts of judgement as he stares you down. So you take the purposefully take the bait, "You should've seen the guy I stole that from."

"That's not funny," he sneers.

"Come on, Soldier. Lighten up," you tease, unafraid of the growing scowl and intense look deepening on his face.

"Don't call me that."

"Bucky?" you taunt, remembering the old nickname from his file.

"No."

"James?"

"Knock it off," he seethes.

"Lover?" you over-enunciate, dragging the word out to tantalize Bucky.

"Is everything a joke to you?" he snaps, pinning you against the wall with his forearm pressed against your collarbone.

"God, you'd think a year alone would've given time for that sense of humor to form," you chuckle.

"Why do you even care?" Bucky demands.

You try not to laugh at the ironic 180 this conversation just took, but you smother the laugh, instead offering the same excuse you gave him the first time you helped him, "I already told you. Things go to shit for you-"

After the twelve hour nap in the car, his brain is no longer muddled with exhaustion. Pieces of the puzzle are coming together and he doesn't like what he sees, not one bit. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not-"

This time, he doubles down, "You said you came because you saw my face in the paper, but then you asked me why they were after me. If you saw the paper, you already knew that."

In spite of the dangerous position you find yourself in, you wryly chuckle, "So you caught that. Very astute, I'm impressed."

"Who sent you?"

"I told you, I don't take orders anymore. Least of all from you."

"I don't buy it," Bucky sneers, putting just a little more weight into his hold. "Why are you helping me? What do you want?"

"Trust issues much?"

"Why?" he orders.

You finally begin pushing back against the weight of him. He doesn't stumble back, but does ease up on the amount of force he uses. "I don't need you. I don't want anything from you. You have nothing to offer me. Have you ever thought about that?"

"Then why?" he fumes.

You shrug, once again too blithely for Bucky's liking. "You helped me once. Maybe I just don't like owing people."

"Bullshit."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Do you ever just give a straight answer?"

"No."

His voice laced with desperate pleas, he softly whispers, "Why are you helping me?"

You take a breath, taking a moment to decide how you want to proceed. And the second you look up at his pleading eyes, your voice drops along with Bucky's. "Have you ever thought that maybe I just wanted to help you?"

"No."

"You want me to say it? I'll say it, I wanted to help you. You got me out, I didn't forget that."

"That explains the first time. And now?"

"Is everything an inquisition with you?" you quickly retort.

"Only when mysterious people show up out of nowhere and decide to help me without a good reason."

"I didn't say I didn't have a good reason," you whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He's not sure if this is just your training or if you're actually being honest with him, but against his better judgement, as the words leave your mouth, he believes you. "You're a good reason."

"You weren't in the area," Bucky concludes, finally removing the forearm that pins you against the wall.

"Not even a little bit," you reluctantly admit.

"What do you want from me?" he murmurs, leaning so close to you that his breath becomes your own.

"Nothing," you exhale.

"You sure about that?"

You look at him dead in the eye and nod ever so slightly, "Yes."

"Stay," he mutters in your ear, his words a confusing blend of a desperate question and a intense order.

Though he's no longer holding you in place, you remain rooted in place under the blue eyes that glimmer as though they were filled with stars. You shakily nod, "Okay."

"Good."

You clear your throat, tearing finally freeing yourself from his gaze, "We should get some food. Scope the area out."

"Alright."

It's been a while since you've been here. It's one of your favorite safe houses, somewhere tucked in a small yet beautiful Romanian city. Though you haven't returned to Bucharest in years, you still remember all your favorite little spots.

It's also one of the only places that only you know about. You've never told anyone about this place, it's cover has never been blown. It's the perfect place for the two of you to hide.

Bucky's hand almost jolts when you reach out for his as you walk through the town square to a small little restaurant, before you even explain the cover, he relaxes and intertwines his fingers with yours.

Still hand-in-hand, you two duck into the small diner.

It isn't long before you're both seated in a booth, tucked into the very corner of the restaurant with two plates of food in front of you and Bucky. And though it's easy for you to pretend that this is your own little corner of the world, isolated from the dangerous, dark clouds always looming on the horizon, it's clear that it's not that easy for Bucky.

His shoulders remain rigid. Head lowered. His face set in what seems like a permanent scowl carved onto his face.

He's practically inhaled his food, while you pick at your plate, enjoying your first real meal in days. He quietly whispers, "We should get back."

"Will you relax? We're safe here."

"And if we're not?" he quickly retorts.

"Do you trust me?"

Though the inexplicable 'yes' is already on his lips, he pauses for a moment, if only to allow rationale and reason to finally step in. It doesn't. "Yes."

There's a strange sense of pride that swells in your heart that he admits that he trusts you. From your years on the run, trust was hard to come by. Worth more than any other resource or emotion. Trust was so fragile, a little flame that could easily burn out, only to be given to the most delicate, dutiful hands. "But I know I shouldn't."

"No, you shouldn't," you agree. "But I'm glad that you do."

"You said 'us traitors'," he prompts, hoping that you'll allow his prying this time.

"Uh-huh?" you languidly lilt, though alarm bells are ringing in your head to change the course of conversation.

"Who'd you betray?"

You put the fork down with a sigh, though there's still a slight humor in your tone, wiping your mouth before you speak. "You want the list?"

He wordlessly nods, silently urging you on.

"Alright, but it's not pretty."

He says nothing, still waiting for you to stop stalling and tell him what he desperately wanted to know.

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'm waiting..." he chortles.

"Well," you start, only allowing the conversation because it's the first time you've ever seen Bucky look even remotely relaxed. "Let's start off with the big ones. The United States."

"Obviously."

"Mexico, England - actually all of the United Kingdom, France, for time purposes, let's just say most of Europe," you start, then prattle on for almost five minutes about all of the countries you were currently wanted in. And you were certain that there were more that you didn't know about. "And most surprisingly, Portugal."

"What the hell did you do in Portugal?" he snickers.

"I don't remember."

And maybe Bucky was being overly sensitive, hyper-aware of the slight change of inflection in your tone, but from the slight twist in your mouth to the lack of a sarcastic comment, your memory sounds like a pretty sore subject.

"They think I bombed the UN," Bucky unexpectedly offers.

"But you didn't," you remind him.

"So we can't go anywhere in North America," he decides, not even realizing that, for the first time, he'd just acknowledged the two of you as a unit. Or that this would be a perpetual partnership.

"Uh, that's not true. I actually am welcome in Canada."

"Canada... nice."

"We can go anywhere. The countries aren't the problem, it's the people that want us that make it a little tricky."

"So who wants you?"

"Besides you?" you quip. Bucky rolls his eyes, but this time you do manage to get a slight chuckle out of him. "Dreykov, but the Widows are the real problem there. SHIELD isn't too pleased with me, but they've got their hands full with HYDRA, who now that I think about it, I also pissed off. I think Romanov's given up on finding me, at least for now."

"Jeez, I thought I pissed off a lot of people."

"Please," you scoff. "I don't have the king of Wakanda, Tony Stark, Captain America, all on my shit list."

"Maybe," he snorts.

You omit the names of the people left behind. Those in the Red Room, he already knows those names well.

Logically, you knew you could not and should not take responsibility for them. But you left. Even years on the run were better than staying in that hellhole. You owed an unspoken and un-payable debt to the man in front of you. You spent years alone, it was better that way, but for the man who risked everything for you all those years ago, you were going to do the same for him.

Six Months Later...

He hangs from your lips as you walk through the town square. You laugh, pushing his shoulder to look at the fruit stand in front of you.

As you reach for the small basket of plums, you can pinpoint the very moment when it all goes to hell.

When the skeletons in your closet, plotting hard to fuck this up, finally escape. You hear the frantic, hushed whispers as you pass through the town square. Whispers you've never heard before. People strangely scanning the area, all on high alert. Your shoulders stiffen, squeezing Bucky's hand three times to alert him of the danger.

You also see the very moment all his walls go back up.

"Shit," you hiss under your breath, tugging Bucky by his hand through the crowd of people.

You've been here too long. Been too complacent. Too at ease. Distracted by the man in beside you, you let your guard down.

You stand with his hands on your waistline. It's a scene that's already begun and you're out here in plain sight, you can practically hear the whispers of accusation as they pass by.

And for the first time in very long time, you feel vulnerable.

You know he feels it too.

The little flame you pretended could burn forever was being threatened before your very eyes and you felt utterly helpless to stop it.

And though you tell yourself that if he just holds your hand without dropping it, it'll all be fine, but you're not even sure that you believe it.

You've always been the first to leave, to cut ties once people could no longer carry their own weight, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it now. You couldn't leave him behind.

You both scan the area for watchful, anachronistic eyes. And it's your eyes that catch a SHIELD agent in plain clothes hissing into a hidden communication wire on their shoulder.

"We have to go," you caution, tearing your eyes away from the agent as they stand up from their seat. "Now."

That's when the first shot rings out from a vantage point above you. One of the first bullets clip you in the arm, and Bucky tears you away as more shots surround the two of you. He takes your hand, ducking into a small alcove just out of sight. It's not a permanent refuge, but it's a pause to gather your bearings.

"I don't have anything," you hiss, clutching your injured arm.

"Me neither. Is it bad?" he asks.

The worst part of it is that he actually sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes are filled with sincerity as though a graze wound is more important than the fact that you're both hopelessly surrounded. You ignore his question, keeping an eye out for anymore SHIELD henchmen. "We need a plan."

"We're not getting out of here unarmed. I'll go back to the apartment, and-"

You vehemently shake your head, clutching his arm to keep him in place, "They'll have it surrounded by now."

"I'll be fine. I'll get the bag. You got the getaway car?"

"Yeah," you hesitantly nod, a strange sense of impending doom rising in your throat.

"Hey," he pauses before he takes off. A firm hand on the back of your neck, he kisses you with all the intensity he can muster. It's unsettling how much it feels like a goodbye. "We're gonna be okay."

You nod, squeezing his hand one last time before he runs off. You watch him duck out of the alcove into a narrow pathway leading to your apartment.

With bated breath, you scan the area. You shake away the last of the dread, tugging off the baseball cap and pulling up the hood of your sweater.

Running calls too much attention, you know this from experience. So with your head low, you briskly walk down the cobblestone streets to just up the road where several cars are parked. You won't even take the time to figure out what will work best, what will get you away quickest. You'll take the first thing you get your hands.

You yank the handle of the first car you reach.

But you're not thinking clearly. Worry is muddying your mind. You forget you don't have your handy little device in your back pocket. The car alarm sounds, practically deafening to a person trying to remain inconspicuous.

You curse yourself, the foolish mistake of leaving it in your house. It was a safe-house, it was never meant to be your home. But you lost sight of that.

And now SHIELD agents have caught sight of you again.

"Damn it," you hiss, climbing into the car.

The SHIELD agents shouting at you are drowned out by the obnoxious car still blaring.

With unmeasured, indecisive movements, you do your best to start the car in front of you.

Your breathing comes quicker and for the first time in a very long time, you're not calm, you're not steady. You're worried. Carrying not only the weight of yourself, but Bucky too. You've tethered yourself to another person and that implication truly weighs on you now.

With sloppy, novice moves, you finally get the damned thing started.

One hand on the steering wheel, the other frantically throwing your seatbelt on, you take off down the street, ignoring the squealing of other cars behind you. You already know that this entire area will now be crawling with SHIELD agents and whoever else is looking for Bucky.

You take a sharp turn down the sloped road that leads straight to the safe house. You sigh, clutching the wheel, your only focus on reaching Bucky.

And that's your Achilles' heel.

Because before you even see them barreling toward you, before you can react, a large van violently smashes into you, sending the small sedan rolling down the sloped road.

You gasp as the impact takes you by surprise, the sheer force knocking the wind out of your lungs.

Your head smacks against the window on the driver's side, you feel glass shards in your hair and swiftly cutting and scraping against your skin as you tumble through the car.

You don't have time to assess injury or even the severity of your situation, because the second the car is done rolling, you unhook the seatbelt. More glass scrapes against your neck as you hit the roof of the upside down car.

You reach for the door. With all your force you try to pry the door open, but the crumpled metal wedges the door shut.

Panic rises up in your throat, but your training reminds you to shove it back down. You remind yourself that you're still you. You're well trained. You have that going for yourself. You can handle this.

Although you can hear the shards of broken glass cutting into to your jacket and you can feel each small cut of your hands, you position yourself away from the window. With both of your feet and one swift kick, the window breaks just enough to allow for an escape.

You claw your way out of the car before anyone can reach you. In spite of the pain throbbing in your body, you bolt again. In search for anything to get you and Bucky away from here.

At the foot of the road, you see a small bike. It's not ideal, but it's all you've got.

This time, it's only adrenaline that fuels you.

You manage to get the bike started and immediately take off in search of Bucky. You swerve down pedestrian walkways, small back roads not intended for vehicles. You cut corners and dodge pedestrians as they shout in fear and dive out of your way.

And you finally find him in the very center of the circus. The same circus you turned into your twisted love story.

His head shoots up at the sound of the revving engine. And this time, he takes no joy in the sight of you. He looks at your face, bloodied and bruised. Your extended hand bloodied and shaking from pain or anxiety, he's not sure.

Though you yourself are barely standing, you extend a frantic, shaky hand to him, "Come on. I know a place."

This time he shakes his head. Partly because he's tired of running, tired of constantly looking over his shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. But mostly because he can't be selfish anymore.

The vultures are circling and he knows the price of being caught. And though he didn't want to admit it, every day it seems more and more likely that you both are going to get caught. After all, how many places can one person know?

And worst of all, the price is much steeper for you. You get caught and he knows you have little to no chance. There's no one out there feeling sorry for you. You don't have Captain America as a bargaining chip or as leverage for freedom. Steve's not championing your cause, fighting for your future.

He knows it's an asshole move, making the choice for you, but he also knows you'd never give up on him.

You watch as he takes a step closer to the people chasing your tail. A step away from you. "Come on, Soldier. Don't do this."

"Us traitors never win."

And with those words, he takes off. The bag you gave him strapped on his back, the money, and everything you'd spent a life on the run cultivating, all gone with him.

He leaves. Leaves you there, still surrounded, vastly outmanned. But it's his words that hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart.

"Fuck," you angrily sigh, slamming your injured hand on the bike.

You contemplate going after him. Even begging him to take your hand. But you're not a beggar, you remind yourself. You're a traitor, destined to lose.

You kick off the road, revving the bike and taking off in the getaway car. You murmur a goodbye to the only traitor that ever mattered to you.

And remind yourself that you should've been the first to leave.

2 Years Later...

"Remind me again when I started taking orders from SHIELD?" Bucky sarcastically asks, popping in the small earpiece.

"When you were pardoned under the condition that you contribute to society," Sam quips.

"And I can't just pay taxes?"

"No," Nat interjects. "Besides, this one's a little personal for me. But I think for you too."

Bucky grunts, unimpressed by the vague details he had going into the mission. He knew two things: he was to get dressed nicely and he was apprehending someone. The sparse details and checkered information he had were a little too reminiscent of his former partner in crime from almost 2 years ago. "Are you going to explain?"

With a wry smirk and a knowing look, Nat slides Bucky a fuzzy still from a hotel security footage. He knows just from the vague outline exactly who this is.

A uncharacteristic chuckle bubbles out of his mouth at the sight of a person he'd been trying to find for the better part of a year. The person who ran with him through hell.

He tried that number so many times, only to be met with an annoying beeping and a monotone operator that informed him that the number had never once been in service. Just like that you were gone.

Nothing more than a fleeting memory of the best of times and the worst of crimes.

"Did you just laugh? Did he just laugh?"

He shakes his head, ignoring Sam's question and staring down at the picture. "What are you going to do with her?"

"That's really up to her. She's a slippery one. She'll smell me coming from a mile away," Nat remarks, and Bucky vaguely remembers you telling him that you thought she'd given up on finding you. It's clear to Bucky that it wasn't the case. "But you? She might listen to you."

"I'm not going to force her to be here. I won't arrest her."

"I don't want you to. You shouldn't have to force her to be here. She's been on the run long enough. If they can find a place for me here, they can find a place for her."

And the second he gets to the swanky hotel bar, his eyes find you immediately. Like they're drawn to you and only you. He can only see the back of your little black dress. Something that blends in, but with an elegance that sets you apart from the other businessmen leering at you from afar.

Your shoulders stiffen after he looks for a moment too long. It's as though you can feel his eyes on you before you ever see him.

He adjusts his suit jacket and walks the length of the room, ending at the bar. If you've noticed he's standing right beside you, you don't say. You take a long sip from your drink, looking unaffected at his familiar presence. He takes a moment to study your profile, the familiar slope of your nose, the jawline he'd traced countless times on sleepy mornings, lips he once hung from. He flags down the bartender with his gloved hand, "I'll take an Old-Fashioned."

"You don't like bourbon."

"Maybe I'm here for the experience."

"You can't get drunk."

"Neither can you and yet, here you are." You say nothing to him, taking another long drink from your glass as though the liquor will somehow start to work after all these years. He chuckles, "I almost can't believe it. It's bold, even for you. New York, right under SHIELD's nose. Does laying low mean nothing to you?"

"Get out of here," you sharply order, the softness in your voice once reserved for him long gone.

"I know a place," he offers, hoping the sentimentality of the phrase will make you more amendable to leaving with him - to staying with him.

It doesn't.

"I'm not going with you," you curtly decline.

"They're not exactly giving me a choice."

"So do it," you challenge, whirling around in your seat and presenting your wrists to him. He takes in the sight of your face for the first time in years, and immediately notes that there is no warmth in them for him. In spite of the ire, he maintains eye contact with your icy glare and coyly smiles at you. "What's another betrayal to you?"

He ignores the bait, taking out his ear piece and dropping it in the glass in front of him. He knows the thing is probably high-tech enough that it won't completely malfunction in liquid, but it gives him a chance to talk to you without other listening ears present. "They're not that bad, you know. Once you get past the superhero complexes and self-righteousness."

"I'm still not going with you."

"Think about what you're doing here."

"I wonder if it'll be a maximum security," you audibly think, simply to egg Bucky on. "Or will they save themselves a prison break and throw me on the Raft?"

He frowns deeply. "Is it really worth it? Locked up for the rest of your life because you don't want to be a good guy?"

You stand up out of your seat, downing the rest of your glass as you slide off the stool. "Not good enough."

"Dance with me," he offers out of the blue.

"What?"

"One dance. For old time's sake," he lies, trying to buy himself enough time to stop whatever comes next.

You look to the small quartet in the corner of the room, then the the few couples swaying on the marbled dance-floor. "Dancing is a dangerous game."

"Then it's good that I can handle myself."

Your eyes narrow, sizing Bucky up. "Lead the way."

He takes your hand. It's a familiar feeling, almost second nature to intertwine his fingers with your, his thumb lightly grazing the back of your warm hand. He only strokes your hand once before you rip your hand out of his hold. He schools his expression, taking the defensiveness in stride. Instead, he puts his his right hand on the small of your back.

The moment you reach the dance-floor, he tugs you closer to him. His gloved metal hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the slow rhythm of the music. The other hand finally back in yours.

"I think the last time I danced was with you. In Romania."

"You know, I'm not a very sentimental person." you reply simply, cutting off Bucky's attempt at a trip down memory lane.

"Clearly."

"Holding onto the past is useless, I've learned. Especially when it ended the way it did," you coldly remind him.

"Does that bother you?"

"You've moved on to bigger and better things. It doesn't matter to me."

His head lolls, clearly mulling over your words. "Bigger? Maybe. Better? I don't think so."

"That's a terrible pitch, Soldier."

"I know better than to sell to you of all people."

"Mm... flattery. You're getting desperate," you flippantly point out.

"You don't need me to flatter you."

"But it sounds so nice coming out of your mouth."

He chuckles, taking the moment to spin you out and back into his arms, even closer than before. Still faced away from him, his right hand is in your left. He lowers his face down to the crook of your neck, speaking lowly, "Well, then let me tell you how beautiful you look tonight. Your poor target. It's the most lethal things that come in the most beautiful packages. Designed to lure you in, to entice, and then... well, you know."

"Very astute." He twirls you again, this time you end up facing him. You slowly inch your face closer to Bucky's. His exhales become your inhales. His lips are so close to yours, as close as they can be without touching. "My target is anything but poor."

"You wouldn't need to do this anymore. You could stop running, stop looking over your shoulder."

"It doesn't matter," you mutter against his lips.

"Why?" he breathes, lowering himself to capture your elusive lips.

As he lowers himself, you take a step back. With a cheeky smile, your hands drop from his shoulders as the song comes to a close. "Because your time is up, Soldier. Did you decide? Are you going to arrest me? Or tell those people sitting outside that you lost me?"

"There's a third option there."

A bitter chuckle leaves your mouth, "I'm a lot of things, but a fool is not one of them."

"Exactly. You know when you're outmanned."

"You can't strong-arm me into the Avengers Compound."

"You said I was a good reason," he abruptly interjects.

"Because I thought you were. I suppose should've known better." He shuts his eyes, your words hitting him like a shot to the heart. He feels you slipping away from him. All he can think is that this is the last time he's ever going to see you again. One way or another, this is the only chance he has left. "I was wrong about one thing though."

"What?" he asks, his eyes opening to see you standing right in his face.

You finally look him dead in the eye, lowering yourself to meet his eye line. "Some traitors do win."

"I remember," he blurts, grabbing your wrist to stop you from walking away. "I remember everything."

"Good for you," you scoff, trying to wrench your wrist from his hand.

"It's why I did what I did. I ran because I - I saw that look on your face. I knew we weren't both getting out of there. I didn't get very far. Only made it about a mile before I was surrounded."

"I don't give a shi-"

"I went to Wakanda," he continues as though you hadn't tried interrupting him. "Back in cryo. The trigger words don't work anymore. And I was pardoned under the condition that I help the good guys, but I looked for you. Every day, I looked." He reaches in to his pocket. For a second, you think that he's pulling out a gun, but then you see the glint of the burner phone you gave him all those years ago. It shocks you that he kept it all this time. "I tried calling. I still try calling you. But you were gone. You're kinda a tough person to get ahold of."

"Yeah, well, I'm still on the run. Can't exactly list my phone number."

"I wanted to apologize. To thank you. To- to tell you I missed you," he say, vulnerability slowly creeping into his voice. He loosens his grip on your wrist, letting his hand slowly skate down until he feels the warmth of your fingertips. He grabs your hand, squeezing it three times. This time, there's no danger lurking just around the corner, it's because he knows it going to be a long road. Not an easy road, but a road he doesn't want you to face alone anymore. "I know a place. For the both of us. No more running. No more games. Please."

You sigh, staring into his blue, pleading eyes filled with silent promises. "Lead the way."

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