#i need someone who knows bucky front to back to answer

[chiacanwritesometimes]

call me stupid but what would happen if bucky said his trigger words? who would he be under compliance to? i assume he would be in some strange limbo mindset, but im not sure. (pre wakanda deprogramming) someone let me know 😛

[danysdaughter]

Please

pairing | congressman!bucky x gf!reader

word count | 3.6k words

summary | after a long day of political masks and quiet exhaustion, congressman barnes returns home to the only person who doesn’t ask him to perform—but demands his honesty. in your hands, he’s not a soldier, or a statesman—just a man unraveling, piece by trembling piece, begging to be seen, touched, claimed.

tags | (18+) MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, power play (soft!dom!reader), overstimulation, oral (m receiving), sub!bucky, begging, praise kink, soft dom/sub dynamics, reader comforts bucky, aftercare, post-orgasm clinginess, vulnerable bucky

a/n | based on this request. propaganda I won't be falling for: dominant rough bucky, please be for real, that man just wants to be taken care of and loved. also off for three days this week, so I'm in my writing element.

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

The scent of garlic and thyme still lingered in the air, warm and soft like the steam curling from the stovetop. You stood barefoot in the kitchen, stirring one final pot, low flame flickering beneath it, your body relaxed, hips shifting slightly to the quiet music playing low from your phone.

The front door clicked open.

Your smile came without effort.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him—you felt it, the shift in the air, the slow exhale of someone finally crossing a threshold where they didn’t have to pretend anymore.

Boots first. Then the soft thump of a coat landing across the arm of the couch.

He didn’t say anything.

He never did, not right away.

You stayed facing the stove, letting him come to you on his own time.

A moment passed.

Then—arms.

One wrapped low around your waist, tugging you back gently into a solid chest; the other snaked across your stomach, anchoring you there. His body curved into yours like he hadn’t seen you in years.

His breath was warm against the side of your neck. A little uneven.

You leaned into it, tilting your head back just slightly, lips parting into a soft smile as your hand came up to rest over his forearm.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice curling with quiet affection.

He didn’t answer.

Just bent slightly to press his mouth to your shoulder, slow and heavy.

Your smile softened further.

Raising your free hand, you brushed his fingers where they rested on your stomach. “Dinner’s almost done,” you murmured. “Ten minutes.”

Still nothing.

Not from lack of care.

You could feel it—the way his grip tightened slightly, the way his breath caught on the inhale like he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite yet.

He didn’t need to.

You turned your head and pressed a kiss to his jaw, light, lingering.

Then, softer:

“Rough day?”

You felt the sigh leave him before you heard it.

You turned slowly in his arms, the hem of your dress brushing against his thighs as you faced him. His grip didn’t loosen—if anything, it tightened, hands settling low on your back like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on just right.

Your arms came up around his neck, fingers sliding gently into his hair, nails grazing the back of his scalp just enough to make him sigh—deep, and low in his chest.

His eyes met yours then.

Tired. Heavy-lidded. Something behind them flickering—yearning, but buried under layers of restraint.

You leaned in and kissed his jaw. Once. Then again. Then slowly dragged your lips toward the corner of his mouth, your voice no louder than a hum.

“Talk to me,” you whispered, your words brushing his skin. “What do you need, baby?”

He didn’t answer right away.

But his hands curled tighter around your waist, fingers gripping like he could mold you to his chest. His head dipped slightly, forehead brushing yours, his breath shaky now—shaky in that rare way that only happened when everything he carried all day finally started to slip.

You left another kiss, just below his ear.

He swallowed.

Still no words.

But you could feel it now—how close he was to breaking.

His breath dragged unevenly against your cheek, warm and unsteady. His hands roamed your back like he didn’t know where to settle, like nothing was enough—not touch, not closeness, not even this space between you.

His lips grazed your skin—first at your cheekbone, then your jaw, trailing lower until they reached the column of your neck. There was no finesse to it, no seduction—just desperation in the way his mouth lingered, the way his breathing faltered like every second closer to you took something unbearable off his shoulders.

And then—

“Please,” he whispered.

You froze for just a breath.

The word landed soft but heavy.

He said it again, voice lower this time. Rougher.

“Please…”

His lips pressed into your skin again, then opened—teeth grazing just enough to feel, just enough to ache.

You didn’t answer.

You just let him come apart.

“Please, I…” He faltered, and one hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, gently, reverently. “I don’t—I don’t know what—”

His forehead dropped against your temple.

And again, like it was the only thing he could say—

“Please.”

You let out a slow breath against his neck, your lips brushing just under his jaw.

“Dinner can wait,” you murmured.

His whole body responded—barely perceptible, but you felt it. A tension releasing, just enough.

Your hand slid down to his chest, then lower, fingers lacing with his as you stepped back and gently pulled him with you—toward the couch.

He didn’t resist.

Didn’t say a word.

He followed, eyes glassy, lips parted, as if he were still caught between asking and needing.

You pushed him down with the barest pressure to his shoulders.

He sat.

Head tilted slightly back. Breath shallow. Hands on his thighs, like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you.

You climbed into his lap, straddling him slow, your knees bracketing his hips, your dress sliding high over your thighs.

Your hands rested lightly on his chest.

He looked up at you like he was drowning and you were the only breath he had left.

Your voice came soft, controlled.

But your gaze burned.

“Tell me what you want, James.”

He blinked slowly. Swallowed. His jaw flexed—an instinctive resistance. Not because he didn’t want. Because he did, too much.

“I…” His voice caught.

You leaned in, lips barely brushing his.

“What do you need from me?”

He closed his eyes.

And whispered again—

“Everything.”

You didn’t answer him.

Not with words.

Your hands moved to his tie, slow and precise, fingers loosening the knot with the kind of care that made his breath hitch low in his throat. The silk slid free, and you dropped it beside the couch without looking.

His eyes stayed on you the entire time—wide, dark, needy—like he still didn’t believe you were really doing this, like at any second he might wake up back in some sterile committee room with nothing but cold coffee and colder stares.

You leaned in and kissed just beneath his ear.

“Shh,” you whispered, your lips brushing his skin.

Then you worked open the first button on his shirt.

Then the second.

Each one a soft sound in the quiet room.

You spread the fabric slowly, kissing the new skin you revealed—his collarbone, the line between his pecs, the edge of a scar near his ribs. Your mouth moved lower, your pace unhurried. Every press of your lips said I see you. Every graze of your fingers said you’re safe now.

You heard the exhale he gave—shaky, wrecked.

You undid his belt, but didn’t pull it off yet.

Not yet.

Instead, your palms smoothed up his chest as you kissed your way back up, until your mouth hovered just over his.

His hands still hadn’t moved. Still pressed to his thighs like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

You kissed the corner of his mouth.

Then whispered:

“Tell me what part of you needs me most.”

You felt him twitch beneath you—barely contained tension. His breath came shallow now, mouth parted, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were unraveling him with nothing but silence and touch.

Your fingers slid down his chest again, tracing along the line of muscle to the open buttons of his shirt. You pushed the fabric further aside, exposing the skin beneath, then leaned down and kissed him again. Right over his sternum. Soft. Patient.

Another kiss, just beneath his ribs.

Then lower.

When your lips brushed the top of his beltline, you felt him tense, his thighs shifting under your knees. Still, his hands hadn’t moved—gripping his legs like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You raised your head, met his eyes.

Then, without a word, slid off his lap—slow, graceful.

You settled onto your knees between his legs, skirt pooling around you.

He watched you, breath catching.

Your palms pressed lightly to his thighs.

“Still waiting,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly. “You haven’t told me what part of you needs me most.”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. Hands trembling now.

You leaned in, lips grazing just over the fabric at his waist—not kissing, just hovering.

He let out a soft, helpless sound. A breath. A plea in the shape of a whimper.

You raised your eyes again, slow and deliberate.

“James,” you said, tone like a velvet knife, “I won’t give you what you want until you ask for it.”

He closed his eyes. His fists clenched. His whole body shook with restraint.

And then—

His voice cracked.

“Please,” he whispered. “Touch me. I need—fuck, I need your mouth, I need your hands, I need you.”

You smiled, slow and warm, before pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh.

“Good boy,” you breathed.

Your lips grazed the inside of his thigh again, slower this time, letting the warmth of your breath sink into his skin.

He let out a soft, broken sound—something between a sigh and a moan—his hips shifting just slightly under your hands.

Your hands moved with deliberate ease, undoing his belt with a soft clink, then sliding the zipper down slow enough to make him tremble. His hips jerked slightly as you pushed his slacks and briefs down just far enough, exposing him to the cool air—and to your gaze.

He was already hard, already flushed, already aching for you.

You didn’t rush.

No, that would be merciful.

You leaned in and kissed the crease of his thigh first. Then the base. Then, finally, the tip—barely a kiss.

He groaned like it hurt.

Your hand wrapped gently around the base, thumb brushing his skin with care. You stroked him once, slow, then again, watching his jaw tighten, his eyes fluttering as his hands finally moved—to the edge of the couch, gripping it like he was holding on for dear life.

You kissed him again. Then licked—slow, from base to tip.

His whole body arched just slightly, a soft gasp breaking past his lips.

“Fuck—” he whispered, nearly breathless.

You took him into your mouth then, warm and slow, your lips sealing around him like a promise. You didn’t rush. You savored. Let your tongue trace every inch, let your throat ease open for him bit by bit.

His hands fisted tighter on the couch.

And then—

One of them slid to your hair.

Not pulling.

Just holding.

Like he needed the contact, not the control.

You hummed around him, slow and deep, and felt him shake.

His voice was wrecked now, low and hoarse.

“God, you feel—so fucking good, I can’t—please don’t stop, don’t stop—”

You didn’t.

You devoured him.

Tender. Controlled. Ruthless.

And when he started to come—hips twitching, breath choking in his throat—you pulled back just slightly, letting your hand take over, your mouth moving to his stomach, kissing him softly as he pulsed in your palm.

He collapsed into it, body shuddering, voice a mess of your name and curses and gratitude.

When he finally opened his eyes, you were still there between his knees, looking up at him like he was the only thing in the world worth touching.

His chest was still rising and falling unevenly, skin flushed, hair mussed from where his hands had gripped his own thighs like restraint was the only thing keeping him grounded.

But the moment your hand released him—when your touch left his skin—he whined.

Not loudly.

Not desperate.

But helpless.

His hand tightened in your hair, not pulling—pleading. Eyes glassy, unfocused, begging without words.

And you knew.

You didn’t speak.

You rose slowly, still holding his gaze, and crawled into his lap—knee by knee, thighs sliding over his, your chest brushing his as you straddled him again. He sat back, legs parted beneath you, arms limp at his sides like the effort of holding back had gutted him.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“You’re still not done, are you?” you whispered.

He shook his head slowly. “No—need more—I need all of you, I can’t—” His hands gripped your waist then, finally, anchoring himself in the curve of your body. “Please don’t stop touching me.”

You kissed his temple.

Then his cheekbone.

Your hands moved to undo the rest of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, baring more of him to the soft light. His body was hard, scarred, beautiful. And yours.

“Shh,” you murmured. “You’ve been so good for me. I’ll take care of you.”

You slid your hips against his, slow and deliberate, your heat grinding over him—slick, teasing, just enough to make him moan like it pained him.

His fingers dug into your skin.

“Let me inside,” he begged, voice cracking, “please—just let me feel you.”

You reached between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance—slow, slick, perfectly controlled.

And as you sank down on him, inch by inch, you felt him shatter beneath you.

His hands clutched at your hips, his breath caught, and the groan he let out was raw, needy—the sound of a man who had finally come home.

You didn’t rush.

You moved against him with the same sensual dominance as before—rolling your hips, rocking into him, letting him fill every inch of you until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be without you.

“God,” he whispered, forehead pressed to your collarbone, “you’re everything, you’re everything—”

You cradled his head in your hands, your lips brushing his temple again.

And you fucked him like he was yours.

Because he was.

You rolled your hips over him in slow, deliberate waves, your hands splayed across his bare chest to steady yourself as he filled you—deep, stretching, perfect.

Every movement was controlled, sensual, designed to keep him right at the edge, trembling under the weight of every soft sound you coaxed from his mouth.

He buried his face against your neck, his lips moving with quiet desperation over your skin. Please. More. Don’t stop.

You could feel his body trying to surge upward, to chase the pace—but your hands pushed him back, gently but firmly, pinning him to the couch.

“Let me,” you whispered, breath hot against his ear. “You just feel.”

He exhaled hard through his nose, fingers flexing against your hips like he was trying not to fall apart right there. But he didn’t fight it. He couldn’t. Not when the way you rode him made his whole body tremble.

Your movements were slow, intoxicating, building rhythm with the kind of unbearable patience that made him clutch at you, chest rising fast, soft curses breaking from his throat.

“I—fuck, I’m gonna—” he gasped, head dropping back against the couch.

You slowed even more.

His eyes flew open, panicked, begging.

“No,” he groaned, “please don’t stop—don’t stop—”

You leaned forward, hands sliding up his chest, your mouth hovering just above his. “Look at me.”

He did.

Wide-eyed. Flushed. Open.

“This is mine,” you whispered, rolling your hips harder once, your walls tightening around him.

He cried out, breath shattering.

“You’re mine.”

His hands gripped your waist so hard it bordered on desperate.

“Yes—yes, I’m yours, I’m yours, I—please—”

You kissed him then.

Not gently.

Not softly.

You took his mouth the way you took his body—completely.

He moaned into you, bucking once, twice—then came with a shudder that wracked his whole frame, his arms pulling you tight against his chest as if you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You didn’t stop moving.

Not yet.

You drew out every second of it—rocking him through the pleasure, letting him come down only when his voice went soft and his grip loosened, trembling with the aftershocks.

When you finally stopped, your forehead rested against his, your breathing just as uneven now—his name still warm on your lips.

And all he could say, again and again, was:

“Thank you. Thank you. Fuck, I love you.”

You didn’t let him breathe for long.

Before the shudders even fully left his body, you kissed him again—deeper, hungrier, lips parting to take the end of his moan into your mouth. You drank the sound like it was his confession. Your tongue met his, slow and sure, dragging every unspoken word out of him.

He tried to speak again—tried to say thank you, maybe, or I love you again—but the words never made it out.

Because your lips left his mouth and moved to his throat, and your tongue found the line just under his jaw.

He gasped, head falling back, throat bared completely as your mouth claimed him there.

Your tongue was slow, deliberate—possessive as you licked and sucked the skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to make him tremble beneath you. Your name slipped from his lips again, broken, aching.

“Please,” he whimpered again, not even knowing what he was begging for now.

He twitched beneath you, and without thinking—completely overstimulated—he thrust upward once, sharp and needy, hips bucking into the tight heat he was still buried in.

The sound he made was desperate—half-pleasure, half-pain.

You moaned softly into his throat, hips grinding down in response.

“You’re still hard for me,” you whispered, tongue curling around the words against his skin. “Even now.”

His hands spasmed at your hips, as if to say he didn’t mean to. As if to say he couldn’t help it.

You pulled back just enough to look down at him.

His eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed, mouth still parted.

“Again?” you asked, voice low and devastatingly soft.

He nodded—tiny, helpless.

“I don’t care if it hurts,” he whispered hoarsely. “I just need to feel you.”

Your nails dragged slowly down his chest, watching him flinch under the burn of your touch. He was still trembling, still gasping softly, the overstimulation rippling through every muscle—but his cock was hard inside you again, pulsing with that unbearable need neither of you had put to rest.

You braced your hands against his chest and rolled your hips once—deep and slow, enough to make him groan, deep in his throat, as his hands clutched at your thighs.

“F-fuck—” he choked, eyes squeezing shut.

His head tilted back against the couch cushions, neck exposed, jaw clenched. Sweat beaded at his temple, his lips red and swollen from your earlier kisses.

You moved again.

Harder this time.

And his hips jerked in response, the sound he made somewhere between a cry and a moan, like he didn’t know if he could take it or if he’d beg for more.

“You’re not done,” you whispered darkly, leaning down, as you kissed him again—this time biting his bottom lip until he gasped. “You said you wanted everything. So give me everything.”

His hands gripped your ass now, digging into the soft curve of you as he tried to meet your rhythm—uneven, wrecked, raw.

You rode him hard now, hips slapping into his, your body taking what it wanted—what it owned. His head lolled, his moans breaking with each thrust, and every time your name left his mouth it sounded like devotion.

“Please—God, please, I’m not—I can’t—” he stuttered, voice hoarse and trembling.

You caught his face between your hands, made him look at you.

“Look at me,” you hissed, rolling your hips even deeper, grinding down until he gasped. “Come for me again.”

And he did.

Harder than before—his whole body convulsing, back arching as he groaned your name like it was the only word he knew, clinging to you like he’d come apart without you holding him together.

You didn’t let him go.

You stayed on top of him, breath heavy, your forehead pressed to his, his arms tight around your waist.

He was shaking.

Ruined.

Yours.

His body was trembling beneath you, drenched in sweat and breathless, his chest rising and falling in uneven, desperate pulls. His hands still gripped your hips, but there was no strength left in them—just the ghost of that need that had burned through him moments ago.

You softened your hold on him, slowly leaning forward, pressing your chest to his, and wrapping your arms gently around his shoulders. His forehead dropped to your collarbone, face buried in your skin, every breath he took brushing warm against the hollow of your throat.

“Shh…” you whispered, lips against his temple. “That’s it. You’re okay.”

He didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

You felt the way his hands clutched you tighter—just a little. As if he needed the reminder that you were still there, that this was real, that he wasn’t lost somewhere inside his own head.

You rocked your hips once, gently, just enough to keep him grounded.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He let out a shuddering exhale, something like a sob tucked beneath it—but it wasn’t from sadness.

It was release.

The kind no one else ever let him have.

You kissed the side of his head. “You gave me everything. Just like I asked.”

His arms slid around your waist now, clinging to you fully, his face still pressed to your skin like it was the only safe place he knew.

“Just breathe,” you whispered, one hand stroking down his back. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay right here.”

He nodded once.

And for a long while, there was no more need. No words. Just the two of you tangled together—his body finally still, his breath finally even, your warmth the only thing tethering him back to peace.

[rulerofstars]

autumn whispers

oneshot: in the space between being a public hero and a private man, between the chaos of saving the world and the peace of your shared sanctuary, lies the most profound truth—that even after facing the darkness of the void, bucky barnes still finds his way home to you.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

tags: fluff, fluff... more fluff. thunderbolts. bucky barnes. 1.9k words.

The warm studio lights beamed down on the polished hardwood floor of the talk show set. Outside, autumn leaves danced in the crisp October air, but inside, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the audience quieted down. A montage of explosive battle footage played on the large screen behind the host's desk: scenes of the Thunderbolts fighting side by side against the latest world-ending threat.

"And we're back with our very special guest tonight," the host, Marissa, announced with practiced enthusiasm as the camera panned to her and her guest. "The man who went from war hero, to villain, to hero again, to congressman, and now back to saving the world—Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes!"

The audience erupted into applause as the camera focused on Bucky. You couldn't help but lean closer to your television screen, heart fluttering despite yourself. There he was, Bucky Barnes, looking almost unfairly handsome in a navy blue button-down that brought out the steel blue of his eyes. His brown hair, now grown out to just below his chin, was tucked behind his ears with a few rebellious strands falling across his forehead.

He smiled politely, the expression warm but reserved in that way only Bucky could manage. The past decade had smoothed some of the harder edges from his face, but the slight furrow between his brows, the one that appeared whenever he was in the spotlight, remained.

"Thank you for having me, Marissa," he replied, his voice carrying that gentle gravel that always sent shivers down your spine.

"So, Congressman Barnes, or should I call you Sergeant Barnes again?" Marissa asked with a flirtatious edge to her voice, leaning slightly toward him.

"James is fine," he answered with a small, practiced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"James," she echoed, clearly delighted. "After three years representing New York's 14th district in Congress, many were surprised when you answered the call to rejoin the Avengers for this latest crisis. Tell us about that decision."

Bucky shifted in his seat, his vibranium hand, now sleekly designed with Wakandan tech that allowed it to appear almost indistinguishable from his right except for a subtle metallic sheen, rested comfortably on his knee.

"Well, when you've been fighting as long as I have, you learn that duty comes in many forms," he started, his voice thoughtful. "For the past few years, I thought my duty was best served in Congress, fighting for veterans' rights and rehabilitation programs for enhanced individuals. But when the call came that the Thunderbolts needed backup..." He paused, a shadow of something deeper crossing his features. "Some battles need to be fought on different fronts."

You smiled at the television, remembering the late-night conversations that had preceded his decision. The worry in his eyes, the way he'd held you close as if trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms before leaving.

"And what a battle it was!" Marissa exclaimed. "The footage we've seen is just incredible. Working alongside the Thunderbolts again after your own time on the team—how did that feel?"

Bucky's expression softened slightly. "Like coming home, in some ways. That team—we've been through a lot together. There's a trust that develops when you've fought side by side with people who've also known what it's like to seek redemption."

"Speaking of coming home," Marissa segued smoothly, her tone shifting to something more personal as she leaned even closer, "one thing our viewers are dying to know, is there someone special waiting for you when you return from saving the world? The Internet has been abuzz with speculation about Congressman Barnes' love life."

The camera zoomed in slightly on Bucky's face, catching the nearly imperceptible tightening around his eyes. You held your breath, knowing what was coming.

"No comment on that front," he replied diplomatically. "I prefer to keep my personal life private."

Marissa wasn't deterred. "So you're saying you're single and available?" she pressed, her smile widening.

A flash of amusement crossed Bucky's face, there and gone in an instant that most viewers would miss. But you knew that look, he was thinking of you.

"I'm saying that some parts of life are sacred enough to keep away from the spotlight," he countered gently but firmly. "I learned that lesson the hard way over many decades."

"Fair enough," Marissa conceded, though she looked slightly disappointed. "Well, I'm sure there are plenty of viewers who'll be happy to hear there might still be a chance with the heroic congressman."

Bucky gave a noncommittal smile as the conversation shifted to policies he had championed in Congress and how his perspective as both a veteran and an enhanced individual had shaped his legislative priorities.

You switched off the television with a fond shake of your head. He'd handled that perfectly, as always. The agreement you'd both come to early in your relationship, to keep your love life completely separate from his public persona had served you well. No reporters camped outside your door, no intrusive questions about your past, no scrutiny of every aspect of your relationship.

Just the two of you, living your quiet life together between his more public responsibilities.

You glanced at the clock, he'd be home soon. The interview had been pre-recorded three days ago, before he'd returned from Washington. With a smile, you headed to the kitchen to finish preparing his favorite autumn meal.

The door clicked open quietly just as you were pulling the apple cider from the stove. The familiar sound of Bucky's footsteps—always lighter than you'd expect from a man his size—made your heart leap.

"Something smells amazing," his voice called from the entryway.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway of your small but cozy kitchen, jacket already hung by the door, boots removed. His hair was slightly tousled from the autumn wind, cheeks tinged pink from the cold. The sight of him, not Congressman Barnes, not the Winter Soldier, not even Avenger Bucky, but just your Bucky—made warmth spread through your chest.

"Welcome home," you said, setting down the pot and crossing the room to him. "Just in time. I saw your interview."

His arms encircled your waist as he pulled you against his chest, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply as if drawing strength from your scent. "Yeah? How'd I do?"

"Mmm, very diplomatic," you murmured as his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. "Marissa was really trying her best, wasn't she?"

Bucky chuckled against your skin, the sound reverberating through you. "Didn't even notice," he mumbled. "Was too busy thinking about coming home to you."

You pulled back slightly to look at his face, reaching up to tuck a strand of that soft brown hair behind his ear. His eyes, those incredible blue-gray eyes that had seen nearly a century of history—looked at you with such tenderness it made your breath catch.

"Missed you," he whispered, his voice dropping to that intimate tone reserved only for you.

"It was only three days this time," you reminded him with a smile, though you'd felt every hour of his absence.

"Three days too many," he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "Congress, Avengers, interviews... none of it compares to this. To you. To us."

Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, still amazed after all this time that this man—this complicated, beautiful, heroic man—had chosen a quiet life with you when he could have had anything or anyone.

"I made something special for you," you said, gesturing toward the kitchen where delicious aromas wafted through the apartment.

His eyes lit up with simple pleasure. "You spoil me, doll."

"You deserve to be spoiled," you replied easily. "Now go wash up. Dinner's almost ready."

He stole a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom, and you returned to the stove with a smile playing on your lips. The routine was familiar, comforting, a pocket of normalcy carved out of extraordinary circumstances.

The small dining table in your apartment was already set, candles waiting to be lit. Outside your window, the trees on your quiet Brooklyn street displayed their autumn finery, reds, golds, and oranges creating a fiery tapestry against the darkening evening sky. You'd chosen this apartment together three years ago, when Bucky had first run for Congress, close enough to his district office but far enough from the heart of the city to give you both room to breathe.

Bucky returned, changed into a soft henley and comfortable pants, his hair damp and combed back from his face. The scent of his cologne, subtle notes of cedar and bergamot—filled your senses as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, helping you bring the food to the table, lighting the candles, pouring the cider into the ceramic mugs you'd bought together at a craft fair last autumn. As he passed behind you, his hand brushed against the small of your back, a gentle touch that sent pleasant shivers up your spine.

"So," you began as you settled into your seats, Bucky choosing to sit close beside you rather than across the table. He casually rested his hand on your thigh, thumb making small, gentle circles against the fabric of your pants. The warmth of his touch radiated through you as you leaned slightly into him. "How did the debriefing go? The real one, not the TV-friendly version."

Bucky took a bite of the food, closing his eyes briefly in appreciation before answering. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the gentle warmth of his breath, inhale the intoxicating blend of his natural musk and subtle cologne. "Better than expected. Bob says hi, by the way. Wants to know when we're coming over for dinner."

"Tell him anytime he's willing to cook," you teased.

Bucky smiled, a genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Will do." He took another bite, then added more softly, "It felt good, being back in the field. Different than Congress. More immediate. In Congress, you fight for change that might take years to see. Out there, you know right away if you've made a difference."

You nodded, understanding the complex relationship he had with his dual roles. "You make a difference either way, Buck. Different battles, like you said in the interview."

"Speaking of the interview," he said, a mischievous glint entering his eyes, "sorry about the 'single' implication. You know how it goes."

You waved a dismissive hand. "Please. I knew what I was signing up for." You took a sip of cider, the warm spices dancing on your tongue. "Besides, I kind of enjoy being your best-kept secret, Congressman Barnes."

His expression softened as he turned to face you, his hand sliding up from your thigh to cup your cheek. The candlelight caught the subtle gleam of his vibranium fingers against your skin as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. He tasted of cider and something uniquely him, a taste that never failed to make your heart race. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"Not a secret," he corrected gently. "Just private. There's a difference."

"I know," you assured him. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

The decision to keep your relationship out of the public eye had been mutual from the beginning. After everything Bucky had been through, decades of having his choices taken away, years of fighting to reclaim his identity—privacy had become sacred to him. And you, having seen the media circus that surrounded other Avengers' relationships, had readily agreed.

It wasn't hiding; it was preserving something precious.

After dinner, you moved to the small living room, settling onto the worn but comfortable couch that faced the electric fireplace. Outside, rain had begun to fall, pattering gently against the windows. Bucky pulled the handmade quilt, a gift from Wanda, over both of you as you curled against his side.

"Want to watch something?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Bucky shook his head, his arm tightening around you. "Just want to be here. With you. No screens, no cameras, no reporters. Just us."

You nestled closer, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek. His vibranium arm, always slightly cooler than his flesh one, curved protectively around your waist.

"Tell me something good that happened while I was gone," he murmured into your hair.

This was another ritual, finding moments of simple joy to share with each other, a practice that had helped Bucky learn to recognize the good in his life after decades of darkness.

"Mrs. Kapoor from downstairs brought up some homemade samosas yesterday," you told him. "Said they were a thank you for helping her grandson with his history project. I saved you some—they're in the fridge."

"She makes the best samosas in Brooklyn," Bucky said appreciatively. "What else?"

"The maple tree in the park has turned completely red now. It happened almost overnight. And I finished that book you recommended, the one about the lighthouse keeper. You were right, the ending was worth the slow middle."

He smiled against your temple. "I've been reading books long enough to know a good payoff when I see one coming."

"Your turn," you prompted, looking up at him. "Something good from your trip."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm. "There was this kid at the hospital we visited after the battle. Couldn't have been more than eight. Lost his arm in an accident last year." His voice softened. "He showed me his prosthetic—nothing fancy, but he'd decorated it with Avengers stickers. Had Steve's Captain America mask right at the top."

Your heart squeezed. "Bucky..."

"I showed him some of the basic maintenance I do on mine," he continued. "Simple stuff, things his parents could help with. But the way he looked at me, doll..." Bucky shook his head slightly. "Like having one arm didn't make him less. Like it made him special. Connected to something bigger."

You reached for his metal hand, bringing it to your lips and kissing the palm gently. "You changed how he sees himself."

"Maybe," Bucky acknowledged. "That's worth all the congressional hearings and PR interviews combined."

The rain grew heavier outside, drumming a soothing rhythm on the roof. The warm glow from the fireplace cast dancing shadows across Bucky's face, highlighting the contours you'd memorized with your fingertips on countless nights like this one.

"You know," you said thoughtfully, "if Marissa knew what she was missing: quiet nights, pot roast, and rainstorms—she might have tried even harder to get that dating confirmation."

Bucky laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Not a chance. This isn't for sharing." His expression grew more serious as he gazed down at you. "Sometimes I think about how different my life could have been. All those years as the Winter Soldier, then the fighting, the pardons, the political career... None of it prepared me for this."

"For what?" you asked softly.

"For how it would feel to come home to someone who knows all of me—every part, every history, every name I've ever had—and loves me anyway." His voice dropped to a whisper. "For how simple and yet impossible it seemed that I could have this kind of peace."

You shifted to face him fully, cupping his face between your hands. "James Buchanan Barnes, are you getting sentimental on me?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "Might be. Happens every autumn. Something about the changing leaves makes a century-old man reflective."

"Well, this century-old man better save some of that reflection for tomorrow," you teased. "We promised to help Yori rake his yard, remember?"

Bucky groaned dramatically. "Why did I agree to that? I was just in a battle to save the world."

"Because he promised to make us sushi afterward," you reminded him. "And because you're a good friend, even when you pretend to be grumpy about it."

He sighed in mock resignation, then suddenly moved, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion that reminded you of the superhuman strength he usually kept carefully controlled. "Fine. But that means we should make the most of tonight."

Your breath caught as his hands settled on your waist, warm and secure. "Any specific ideas, Congressman?"

His eyes darkened slightly as he leaned closer. "Several. None of which I'll be sharing on national television."

As his lips found yours, gentle at first and then with growing intensity, you smiled against his mouth. Outside, the autumn storm continued, leaves swirling in the wind, the world rushing by with all its complexities and dangers. It was an ordinary moment. And yet, as you padded across the room to join him underneath the sheets, accepting every kiss, every touch, every bit of his being— you knew this was everything neither of you had dared to dream possible.

Congressman, Avenger, Thunderbolt, Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, the world knew him by many names. But in the gentle warmth of a Brooklyn sunset, he was simply yours, and you were his, and that was the greatest truth of all.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

a love that makes sense

── bucky barnes x fem!reader (former avenger, currently part of the thunderbolts*)

word count: 3.7k

clearing up a few things timeline wise, to avoid confusion. infinity war happens in 2018, thunderbolts* in 2027. the events of the winter soldier happen in 2014 so when i eventually mention how long reader and bucky have known each other, its 13 years.

no use of y/n but i do use she / her. no physical descriptors other than reader being shorter than bucky (sebastian is 5’11 - 6’ so do with that what you will). powers are similar to that of wanda maximoff, but i don’t write about them in this part. hero name is Dark Surge (where wanda’s powers have a red energy, your color is black, hence the name). readers parents are both dead.

baby girl is back on the big screen and my writing gears are turning again. inspired by @aquaticmercy! their entire masterlist is stunningggggg, and brb im gonna go re-read right now. this is my take on the secret wife trope with thunderbolts* bucky, but someone on the team already knows 👀

*NOTE: benjamin poindexter is not bullseye in this. i just need a name that’s easy to associate being a piece of shit with hshxjsidnxfj

also i am a slut for a backstory, so sorry if you hate long pieces but get a snack and get comfortable

SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* BELOW THE CUT!!!

Bucky hated the idea of a gala to introduce the (rich) world to the team.

To the new Avengers.

Valentina said it would be good for you to show face, that it would be the first planned public outing as a group.

Sam Wilson had made it known he didn’t like you all using the Avengers as your team name, what with him trying to sue for copyright, and Valentina was a little too quick to point out that now was the time for a united front. The public needed to see that not only were you heroes, but that you were also a real team.

None of you could see how dressing up and playing nice with the upper class would prove that, but you all discussed and decided it was better not to argue.

Yelena pointed out that the Thunderbolts, or Avengers, or whatever the team name was, basically owned Valentina. Bob was on your side again, and even Valentina knew that all it would take was one of you going to the press to expose her.

But it was Alexei who said Valentina was right. The world knew who you all were as individuals, but they’d yet to see you as a team in a somewhat normal setting.

You suspected he just wanted a chance to dress up and have people admire him, but kept quiet about that.

But back to why Bucky hated the gala.

It wasn’t for him. It was true, he didn’t like the idea of having to put on a show, even though he was used to it since becoming a congressman. And he hated that he could hear the whispers of the general public, who often referred to him as the Winter Soldier behind his back.

No, he hated this for you.

Of everyone on the new team, you were the only one of the original Avengers. You’d joined shortly before Loki and the whole attack on New York, having been recruited by Steve.

And as the only original Avenger, people tended to pay extra attention to you. He knew without a doubt, you’d be smiling for more photos and answering more questions than any of them.

You loved what you did, that you got to help people. But you didn’t like how public it all was. You missed when you were an unknown vigilante working (mostly) alongside the law. When you took on smaller problems like robberies or attempted shootings. Because no one knew who you were back then, you weren’t often praised. And that was exactly how you wished it could’ve stayed.

What Bucky hated most, was how he wouldn’t be able to comfort you tonight.

He’s known he loves you since before he could even remember what love was. You tracked him down to his tiny apartment in Romania, but didn’t tell Steve right away. You gave him 6 additional months of peace, while slowly inserting yourself into his life.

And while his memory was foggy, he wasn’t stupid. He knew who you were when you approached him at that outdoor market he used to frequent, but he believed you when you said you had no intention of alerting Steve, yet. That you needed some peace and quiet too.

The first time you helped him through a nightmare, and held him as he sobbed and said he wanted the pain to end, that was it for him. When he woke up the next morning to see you curled up next to him, your hand on his chest as if you needed the reassurance his heart was beating, he knew he didn’t ever want a life without you.

And when you finally opened your eyes and smiled at him, for a brief moment it felt like all was right in the world. You seemed to know how he felt, because you simply moved closer and spoke softly as you told him everything was going to be okay, and that the 2 of you didn’t have to discuss feelings, but you felt the same way.

With all that went down once you finally did have to tell Steve where Bucky was, and all that happened after, your relationship was obviously kept a secret from, well, everyone.

Eventually the 2 of you felt comfortable enough to tell Steve, who smiled as if he already knew. And you then confessed that Nat knew, and had known for a long time because you needed someone outside of the relationship to talk to.

As time went on, the rest of the team each found out in their own way.

Tony found out when he overheard you talking to Nat about how you were terrified to tell him about you and Bucky. Tony was the closest thing you had to a dad, and you didn’t think you could handle him being disappointed in you.

Thankfully, he and Bucky had long ago sorted everything out, and he told you that he overheard you, but you had nothing to worry about. If you were happy, so was he.

Clint found out at the same time as Thor and Bruce, when the 3 of them had taken the elevator up to your floor of the tower to ask about an upcoming mission. They froze as soon as they got off of the elevator, and were met with the sight of you fast asleep, your head on Bucky’s chest as he lazily scrolled to find something good to watch. By then he was genuinely friends with everyone on the team, so he didn’t have much of a reaction to them.

But he sighed, knowing you wanted to tell them yourself. You’d just gotten back from a solo mission though, and were more tired than he’d seen you in a long time. So he simply looked at them and mouthed if you wake her, I will kill you.

All you had to do was mention to everyone that you both wanted to keep the relationship out of the public, and that was it. You trusted them, and knew nobody would ever say anything.

That was a long time ago, though. You didn’t know most of your teammates that well.

You were still on the fence about John. With the recent string of events that had taken place, he’d proven himself to be a good teammate and valuable asset to the team. And knowing what he saw in the void, you felt bad.

But that still didn’t erase the things he’d done in the past. You remembered all too well, what happened when you were working with Bucky and Sam and the wannabe Captain America showed up.

As for the other members of the team, well all except 1, they were nice enough, but you weren’t close enough with them (yet) for you and Bucky to feel comfortable revealing your relationship.

It wasn’t unusual to everyone else that the 2 of you spent more time with each other than any of them, after all you’d known each other longer. But you were worried that one day, someone would catch on before you had a chance to tell them yourself.

Which was how you found yourself in this unfortunate position, wandering around the massive room Valentina rented for the night. She instructed everyone on the team to go off on their own, mingle with the people. And do not stick together like a pack of wild animals being cornered.

Of course, it wasn’t lost Bucky that if your relationship was public, he could ignore her suggestions and just walk around with you, arm in arm. He could pull you in for a kiss, maybe even ask you to dance if these fancy galas did that sort of thing.

And it wasn’t lost on you that if people knew the 2 of you were together, you could comfort Bucky. Like right now, you can tell by the way he’s walking around with his metal hand in his pants pocket and his right hand holding a glass of champagne, the way he keeps looking around as if a threat is close by, that he’s anxious. And anxious probably isn’t even a strong enough word, because you know he hates these public events as much as you do.

“You always come to these things alone?”

You had enhanced hearing, but still felt like you were going to have a heart attack at the sound of an unexpected voice. How had someone managed to sneak up on you? You really had to work on not zoning out in public.

“Pardon?” Not wanting to seem rude, you put on a smile and turned to face the man on your left.

He was tall, and not bad looking. But something about the way he smirked at you put you on edge. He stared as if you were a prize to be won, or he needed time in the spotlight so he spoke to you, hoping one of the few invited members of the press would soon walk by.

“I just asked if you always come to Valentina’s galas by yourself.”

You hoped you didn’t sound as annoyed as you felt.

“Well this is the first event being thrown by Valentina, so no. It’s been a few years since the Avengers have thrown a gala. And even then, Tony only invited respected individuals that we worked with closely.”

The man scoffed. “Right. Guess my invites always got lost in the mail.”

“Guess so,” you shrugged.

“Now that I’m here though, I can keep you company.”

This guy needs to work on his subtlety, you thought to yourself.

You briefly surveyed the room, and found that Bucky’s eyes were already on you. You suspected that he’d been watching since the man first approached you.

You okay? He mouthed. You gave a slight nod, and he turned back to the person he was speaking with, though you knew he’d look back at you once you looked away.

“I’m actually meant to mingle with everyone, but I appreciate the offer…”

“Benjamin Poindexter,” he held his hand out. You hoped your smile was convincing as you shook his hand. He held on just a little too tight, for a little too long.

Before you could step back, you and Benjamin were both startled as a hand not at all gently gave him a pat on the shoulder. You looked to see Alexei, and were never more relieved to see him than you were in that moment.

“How are we doing this evening, huh?”

Benjamin opened his mouth to answer, but Alexei had already put his arm around you and had begun leading you in another direction. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back around.

“Sorry I need her for official superhero business, you understand.”

Only when you were nearly across the room, did Alexei finally stop walking. “Should I kill him?”

You laughed, but had to stifle it when you saw his completely serious facial expression.

“I— no. Hey look at me, no killing him, right?”

“Maybe I just accidentally—”

“No. I really appreciate you saving the day, but I think he was just a weird fan who managed to sneak his way in. Promise me he’ll leave here alive.”

“Oh okay okay, I get you. I wait until he leaves and then—”

“Alexei!”

Yelena approaches, having heard the tail end of your conversation.

“Trust me, I wish I could kill men simply for being creepy as well. But the public won’t love Red Guardian so much for killing a man out in public just for being a creep.” She turned and whispered in your ear, “he won’t be able make it l look like an accident. But I can. We’ll talk later.”

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

What feels like a lifetime later, but is really maybe an hour, you’re all seated at dinner. And of course in another effort to whore you all out to the public make people think the Avengers were just like everyone else, the entire team were sat at different tables.

“Well well well, guess it’s my lucky night.”

Oh fuck me, you thought as Benjamin took the seat next to you. How had you not noticed his name on the place cards?

“Hello,” you gave him a nod and tight lipped smile, before turning to survey the room once again.

Alexei held up a steak knife and motioned to Benjamin when he wasn’t looking. When you shook your head, he sighed and resumed conversation with the man he’d been talking to.

You were sad that Bucky was on the other side of the room, so you wouldn’t be able to see him after this long and boring dinner was over.

Ava and Alexei were the only ones who lucked out with table mates.

You turned to your right and saw John sat between 2 men who both seemed to be vying for his attention. He caught your eye, and you laughed and mouthed having fun?, and had to force yourself to not laugh when he slowly raised his hand to flip you off.

Yelena was a few tables away, resisting the urge to grab her steak knife and shove it in the throat of the man speaking to her. He clearly just loved the sound of his own voice, and she hadn’t even gotten a word in. The topic? Himself, of course. And how he could’ve been a hero too if life had dealt him better cards.

Bob was the only one who’d been excused from tonight. Understandably, as he was still recovering from recent events.

Earlier you offered to stay back and hang out with him. The rest of the team agreed that might be a good idea, until Valentina swooped in and immediately said no. That everyone would be wondering where the only original Avenger on the team was.

“So being an Avenger and all that, do you have a lot of free time?” Benjamin asked.

“Umm no, not really. Between missions and writing the reports and training, I don’t have a lot of time for myself.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping to take you out some time,” he put an arm around your chair while also scooting his closer.

That’s when you finally stood up. “I’m not dating anymore, but again I appreciate the offer. If you’ll excuse me.” You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before you started to walk away.

Valentina unintentionally saved the day, calling you over to talk to a mayor of some city a few states away. Why he was at this dinner, you had no idea. But after only a minute of conversation, you could tell he was genuinely a nice guy, so this was already a lot better than talking to Benjamin.

After everyone finished eating, the team mingled with guests for another hour before things finally started to wind down. Half an hour after that, and only a handful of people remained.

“Ready to head home? I’m exhausted,” Ava was the last of the group to approach the table you’d all gathered at.

“Yeah,” you looked around the table, “shit. I think I left my phone in the bathroom. I’ll meet you guys at the car.”

Everyone slowly stood up and gathered their things, but Bucky lingered near you. “I can wait for you,” he offered.

You could see he was just as mentally exhausted as you were, maybe even a little more. “It’s okay, I’ll meet you at the car in a minute, I think my phones on the counter by the sinks.”

After double checking, he nodded and turned around to look at the team. They were all talking amongst themselves as they headed to the doors, so Bucky took the opportunity to take your hand in his. “You did good tonight doll, proud of you.”

“Right back at ya’ Sarge,” you smiled.

You held hands a few seconds more, before expertly letting go and making it seem as if you just walked side-by-side. Unbeknownst to each other, you were both thinking that you couldn’t wait until the day came where you didn’t have to do that.

Once exiting the ballroom / banquet room, Bucky turned left and made his way to the exits, while you went right and headed for the restroom.

When you saw your phone sitting exactly where you thought it’d be, you felt relief. As you walked back out, you scrolled through your missed messages and calls, not looking up from your phone.

“There you are.”

You’d later swear your heart stopped when you heard Benjamin’s voice again. And you mentally cursed yourself for not paying attention to your surroundings. This was now 3 times the same man managed to sneak up on you.

“Hi,” you quickly nodded before taking a step towards the doors.

“Not so fast,” his hand reached out to grab your arm, and he wasn’t at all gentle.

You sighed as you tried to remove your arm from his grip, but fear quickly replaced annoyance when you realized he was stronger than he looked. And when he looked up, gone was that smug smile. Now he only looked angry.

“All night you’ve been such a fucking bitch to me, and for what?”

“Let go of me. You clearly know who I am, so you know what my powers are. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed, then leaned down so his face was only inches from yours.

“You think you’re too good for me, because you’re an Avenger and I’m not? I could’ve been a hero too, you know.” He laughed, although there was no humor behind it. His grip on your wrist tightened as he gave you that sick smile. “I can—”

You didn’t get to find out what it was he could do, before a hand reached from behind you and wrapped around Benjamin’s throat. In seconds, he was pinned against the wall.

And even if the hand around Benjamin’s throat wasn’t metal, you still would’ve known who it was that was behind you.

“James,” you turned around and smiled. “I could’ve handled him.”

“Oh I know you could’ve,” he tightened his grip as Benjamin tried to speak and continued to try and remove Bucky’s hand. “You could’ve kicked his ass, but you shouldn’t have to.”

By then, the rest of the team had all come back into the room. Benjamin looked to them as if to silently ask for help, but suddenly they were all preoccupied with the floors and ceilings. Alexei even went so far as to whistle and brush invisible crumbs off of his suit jacket.

Bucky shook his head as he finally dropped his left hand, allowing Benjamin to breathe properly for the first time in a couple of minutes. Any relief he felt was short lived though, because Bucky almost immediately used his right hand to slam him back against the wall.

“You’ve been bothering her all night. And I know exactly who you are. Dishonorable discharge from the Army for sexual misconduct against female superiors. Looked into you after you bothered her the first time. And she,” he nodded towards you while never taking his eyes off of Benjamin. “Has been too polite to tell you to fuck off, but I’m not. If you so much as breathe in my wife’s direction again, it’ll be the last breath you ever take. And if you tell anyone about what’s going on right now, I can promise you that you’ll only wish you were dead.”

With that, he let go, and Benjamin fell to the ground as he tried to catch his breath. He got up after a moment, a hand on his neck as he scrambled for the doors.

“You’re all fucking psychopaths!” He yelled. Yelena took a step towards him, causing Benjamin to yank the doors open, probably running faster than he had in his entire life.

“You okay doll? I knew something was off when you were gone longer than a minute. I meant what I said, I know you could’ve handled it, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you placed your right hand in Bucky’s left. “I kinda like when you come to my rescue.”

You took a deep breath before turning to face the team, all staring at you with wide eyes and open mouths. “I know you have questions, and I promise we’ll answer them all… eventually. Let’s just get home first.”

Alexei immediately opens his mouth. “So you two—”

He was stopped by Yelena, who grabbed his arm and began walking towards the car. “Chop chop let’s go people I have a lot of questions.”

Only a few minutes later, you all finally slumped back in your seats.

“Former Winter Soldier and vigilante both turned Avenger, meet and fall in love. Beautiful!” Alexei grins, giving you a thumbs up in the rear view mirror.

Bucky takes your hand in his, apologizing once again for letting the cat out of the bag.

“Seriously though,” Ava leans forward in her seat. “Does no one know about you two?”

You shrug, “the… original Avengers, is that what we call them? Anyway, they all found out a long time ago. Natasha was actually the first one I told.”

Hearing that you confided in her sister brings a smile to Yelena’s face.

The rest of the ride to the tower is silent. And you end up falling asleep leaning on Bucky’s arm. At one point, he turns and places a soft kiss on your head. The team all turn to look at each other, as if silently asking if they were really all that blind. How had they missed this??

You wake up just as Alexei not so delicately comes to a stop as he waits for the gate to the parking structure to open.

“At least I can finally do this now,” Bucky smiles as he walks next to you, slipping his hand into yours as you head into the tower.

When you all walk into the downstairs lobby area, Bob is there.

“Saw you guys pull in on the cameras. Figured I’d wait to see how the night went.” He looks at you and Bucky holding hands, and smiles. “Oh you guys finally told them!”

All eyes are on you again.

“What the fuck!”

“Wait BOB knew?!”

You and Bucky turn to look at each other. “This is gonna be a looong night.”

why this is called “a love that makes sense” is coming in part 2!

TAG LIST FOR PART 2 ── 10 of 50 spots taken. if you’d like to be added, let me know!!

@rafesgurl | @julesandgems | @escapismurmom | @emmyrietveld0 | @xynnzzzzzzzz | @theb0mbdotcom | @qvynrand | @wasalreadyhere | @teewon | @limitlessxxx

[n3ptoonz]

'Political Animals'

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky/F!Reader

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit; pre-Thunderbolts, ADULTERY! (reader has a wack husband), COCKY BUCKY COCKY BUCKY, PLOT HEAVY, dirty talk, desk sex, reader is the secretary of state, cunnilingus, fingering, refers to your vag in third person (i can't stop doing this), squirting, f!multiple orgasms, f!cum as lube, exhibitionism if you squint, use of "baby" and "sweetheart", use of titles, breeding kink if you squint, inspired by the show he was in called political animals :3c, half proofread

Word count: 3.1k

Chapter two here (it was originally a one shot, so reading the others is optional)

The Congressman has known you for a while now. Even before he stepped into the political realm, he knew who you were and actually looked forward to crossing paths whenever possible. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't have a crush on you. He was a sucker for people who fought tooth and nail for what was right.

However, it was a year and a half until your term was over, and there were lingering rumors about you running for president against the very man you work for. It was bold, but that's what drives this nation, no? Everything was on hush-hush, especially because you know your husband--if you could really call him that--would throw a fit if he merely heard about it.

Politics was your life. You lived and breathed diplomacy. You were practically nothing if you weren't leaping at the opportunity to help those in need by any means necessary.

Two soft knocks came to your office door before your assistant poked his head in.

"Madam Secretary," he prompted with a small smile. "You have a visitor. He says it wasn't an appointment but he wanted to speak with you."

Your head tilted as you tried to think of who'd show up to the White House unannounced like that. "Did he give you a name?"

"Congressman Barnes." he answered. "The one with the metal-"

"I know who he is," you said with a growing smile, secretly glad you weren't busy this time around. "Send him in."

You've interacted with him a handful of times when you went down to the Capitol. Not only for trying to get a bill passed/when handling foreign affairs, but sometimes you went down there when you were invited to events. Usually by the Congressman. He was always an interesting man to you, given his past and how he ended up here with buttoned up assholes. However, he warmed up to you almost instantly.

"Madam Secretary." he said, his voice practically bounced off the walls over that door shut, snapping you out of it as you stood to shake his hand.

"Congressman. What brings you by?" you asked him and gestured for him to take a seat in front of your desk. "I didn't peg you as the kind of guy who shows up unannounced."

"Force of habit." he shrugged and tried to put humor to how it was true, he was used to just rolling up on people without saying anything. "Old habits die hard."

"Right," you sat back down and leaned forward on your elbows while watching his eyes. You didn't miss the way his eyes darted back up from your covered chest to your face. "That still doesn't answer my question."

What was in the air today, nobody knows, but Bucky was feeling it. He hadn't openly flirted with someone since Sarah, and that might've just been out of spite to Sam for fun. But you were real deal. He had to tread lightly but make it known he wasn't a punk.

"Maybe I just wanted to visit. I was in the neighborhood and thought 'Why not stop by the White House?'"

"Barnes." you half-warned. You hated the cat and mouse game, you didn't have time for all that. He said your surname, married surname and caught the subtle cringe in your face when he said it.

Noted.

"Well, I just wanted to know...is it true?"

You gave him a puzzled look as if you didn't already know what he was talking about. "I don't follow."

He narrowed his eyes at you and rested his chin on his fist. You're lying to him. Did you not trust him with such sensitive information? Was it not official yet? Were you having second thoughts?

"Madam President." he dared with a slow blink at you. A warmth crept up your neck as those words fell from his lips. It was your first time hearing it be said aloud other than you or your supportive assistant entertaining the idea.

You chuckled lightly and shrugged. "I don't know where you heard that. Perhaps journalist gossip isn't a reliable source, Barnes."

"Bucky." he stated.

You blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"Just 'Bucky' is fine when we're alone." he insisted. This was a dangerous game he was playing and yet he didn't feel an ounce of shame or fear. Your brows furrowed at his tone and leaned back into your chair.

"I'm married."

"Happily?" he asked in a softer tone. And there it was, that timeless charm and wit that never left. The same charm that had the ladies swooning and fanning themselves in the 40s. He still got it.

Bold. Real bold, Buck.

You huffed an incredulous laugh through your nose and sighed. He's got you there, you had to admit. But you won't do that out loud. That was highly unprofessional. Even if you had thought about it at least once...tw...enty times...

You'd be lying if you said you didn't develop a little something for the man. He brought a fresh vibe to the political scene. A former deadly assassin joins congress and obviously doesn't know what the hell he's doing. It was... honestly kinda cute. And you'd be remiss if you didn't take note on how handsome he is. That slick back will do it every time.

"You're bold," you said looking him up and down. "Bucky." saying his nickname subconsciously felt like you stepped into a room you didn't know you had access to. Like the door was open the entire time. It was like a silent acceptance of some sort, but you didn't know of what.

The side of his mouth quirked upwards in satisfaction. He's got you.

"I mean, I'm just letting you know you'd have my vote." he said as he stood up and pretended to smooth out his blazer. "If the rumors are true, of course."

You stood up with him but neither of you moved. The tension in the room was suddenly palpable.

"And if they aren't?" you said. Not to burst his bubble, but you can never be too sure about someone using your title to get ahead.

"Then that'd be a damn shame. Who's to say you wouldn't have a leg up when trying to get a bill passed?"

You let out a genuine laugh. Not at him, but you really weren't expecting him to say that. So confidently too.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just, I mean your heart's in the right place but that's not how it works."

Bucky didn't take any offense to it at all. He was aware he was just firing off whatever he could to get a reaction out of you. That and he was still fresh in that chair, so it was fair that you knew way more than him.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice somehow getting lower and smoother with one word uttered. "Mind showing me how it works?"

Never in his time has he ever used his charm, let alone openly flirted with a married woman who was clearly not happy in her marriage. He took a shot in the dark with a faint light at the end of the tunnel.

The ball was in your court. Though this wasn't that hard of a decision considering the fact that you've been cheated on before and had to suck it up for appearances. You slowly rounded your desk, dragging your finger along the edge and letting your clacking heels fill the deafening silence in the room.

"Well," you began as your eyes glided up his chest, and you were just now noticing his muscles straining against the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You stood in front of him and lightly tugged his tie towards you. A hint of a smirk on his lips as he let it happen.

"First, a bill is introduced and assigned to a committee for review," you said while undoing the tie and tossing it onto your desk. Then you went to undo the buttons while keeping your eyes on him. "If approved by the committee, it's voted on by the House. If passed, it moves to the Senate."

Bucky shrugged off his blazer along with his shirt and took a step forward so your butt hit the front of the desk, leaving him in a white tank top. He leaned forward with his hands on either side of you, effectively trapping you there as you sat on the edge with him between your legs.

"What happens if it's not passed by the House?" he asked as he took your hand and slowly kissed your palm a couple of times.

"Then you're shit out of luck." you caressed his cheekbone as you replied. "But the Senate can then consider, amend, and vote on the bill. If the House and Senate pass identical versions of the bill, it's sent to the President for approval."

"And that's where you come in." he murmured. He was so close you could feel his breath on your lips. "The gracious and headstrong Madam President of our nation, passing laws for the greater good."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's fuckin' sexy is what it is," he whispered before capturing your lips. Your soft laugh turned soft moan when his cold metal hand met the hot skin of your thigh under your skirt. The hand that rested on his cheek snaked around to the nape of neck to pull him closer, if possible.

He pulled away and licked his lips, looking drunk on just kissing you. His left hand pushed your skirt up further while his right spread your thighs. His eyes never left yours as two fingers glided over your slit through your panties. You inhaled sharply as your thighs naturally spread more in response to his touch.

It was clear to the both of you that it had been such a long time since you've been touched like this. With an already high demanding job and a shitty husband, you were stuck with occasionally sitting at a certain angle in your chair after hours.

"Oh, poor thing," he muttered and kept rubbing, silently daring you to look away. "Too many nights of being left to your own devices, hm? Look at how she weeps to be taken care of properly." he whispered, earning a soft whine from you, given that you were wetter than you thought. A simple rub up against you like this made the pit of your stomach tight.

Bucky hooked his fingers around the band and pulled them down with ease before sinking to his knees. He kissed up your legs and removed your heels. The only thing on his mind was if he was going to successfully get you to cheat, forget about your shit husband even for a little while, he was going to make it worth your time. Make it so if you ever decided to fuck your man again, it'd be spoiled by the fact that it wasn't him. Should you ever cuddle up with him again, you'd wish it was Bucky.

Once his mouth was attached to you, you rolled your hips and shuddered. The soft prickling of his beard between your thighs was something you didn't know you craved until now. He groaned in satisfaction, both hands gripping your thighs and hooking them over his shoulders.

He was genuinely getting off to the taste of you. The subtle twang of today's efforts dripping off you. The contracting of your folds against his tongue was signaling that you were close already and he had just got started.

"All this? For me?" he said as he licked up more slick. "Baby, you shouldn't have." he continued and added a finger to get you there faster.

You gasped and laid back onto your desk, exhaling shakily. The balls on this man to call a married woman any kind of pet name was beyond you, but that was thrill. And you loved it.

"My apologies," he leaned upwards for a second to see you clutching your torso as a means to focus. "Madam Secretary. I'd never take that away from you." he added, along with another finger at a steady rhythm.

You moaned out your own name, a choked gasp following after. He smiled and dove back in between your legs, licking and sucking to see what it's like when you come undone.

With your own hand over your mouth, you moaned loudly under your palm as you came. You were a tad embarrassed that you were squirting all over his face, but he just wouldn't stop and let you ride this out.

When your body finally calmed and became less tense, he backed away and pulled his fingers out slowly. He stood up and wiped his face while his other hand quickly undid his belt and pulled his pants/boxers down just enough so that his dick sprung free. He nodded, impressed with how much you came and that he was able to do such a thing. He lifted your left leg from your knee and used your own cum as lube.

Your name rolled off his lips so naturally as he made sure all of your essence covered the shaft, but he was done playing games. Bucky took the liberty of wrapping that leg around his waist and used the leverage to push himself inside you, bottoming out so you could adjust. The man was girthy and long. It felt he was splitting you open, leaving the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

You couldn't remember the last time you had sex with your husband, but it definitely was nothing like this. And Bucky was definitely way bigger than he ever was.

"You okay?" he asked softly and soothed you by rubbing circles on your thigh. He hovered over with a look of concern and wasn't going to do anything else unless there was a verbal confirmation.

You nodded, "Yeah," you said and reached up to pull him towards you by the shoulders. His arms were on both sides of your head as he watched you grab the tie you tossed earlier to wrap it around the back of his neck. He smiled softly at you before he moved his hips, liking the way you think.

Bucky leaned down and left kisses along your jaw and neck, relishing in your hushed noises of pleasure so that nobody could hear outside. Thanks to your assistant, he doesn't interrupt if you're speaking with someone and warns others not to.

"Mm...that son of a bitch is lucky I didn't meet you first," he whispered and nipped at your earlobe. "He doesn't deserve you," he added with your name at the end. One of your hands came up to lightly tug on his hair. He chuckled in response.

"Too soon?" he asked, half-serious.

He was about to say something else when your phone rang. Your cellphone. You both lifted your heads and looked over by the computer, but he grabbed it quicker than you could. Your eyes widened in horror when he answered it.

It was your husband.

He leaned up and said his name aloud so you were fully aware this was really happening. The truth is, he knew everything about him. He knows about his cheating scandals and all. So, when he saw the name, he just couldn't help himself.

Old habits die hard.

"Yes, hello. The Madam Secretary is not available at the moment as she is currently busy with a meeting right now." he said, putting your phone between his ear and his shoulder. He quickly covered your mouth with his metal hand and started thrusting into you again. There was a tsunami wave worth of emotions running through you right now, but it was all being overridden by the angle he was hitting and the sudden quickened pace. He spoke on the phone like it was nothing, smiling down at your face contorted with pleasure and your eyes rolling back. Your muffled moans gave him goosebumps.

"Uh, I could try to get her on the line if you'd like," he said as he looked down again, trying not to chuckle at you snapping back to reality. "No? Ah, ok. I'll let her know you'll be here in thirty minutes. She should be finished in...one second, please," he muted the microphone and uncovered your mouth for a brief moment to kiss you, taking in your frustrations and embarrassment at the muted cellphone being right next to your head.

You could just cry. The wave of guilt only made you want to unmute and let him listen in on what he couldn't do.

"Time's ticking, sweetheart," he muttered against your lips. "Cum with me. Come on. Don't wanna leave him hanging, right?"

Your mouths moved in sync and your tongues danced to a dangerous tune. Bucky fucked you like his life depended on it.

That tight feeling inside you both snapped at the same time. Bucky pulled out in time, letting his cum hit the tiling so it didn't get in the carpet. You trembled beneath him, pouring everything you had into this kiss that kept the entire office from rushing in here.

After a few seconds you tried to make yourself calm down, pushing Bucky off you and quickly sitting up on the edge of your desk as you grabbed your phone. He playfully scoffed and snatched your phone from you. But before he unmuted, he leaned in close to your ear and said,

"Should've given you my babies." seeing your genuine look of shock.

He unmuted cleared his throat as he stuffed himself back into his pants. "Hello? Yes, she's finished now. I've delivered your message to her and she can speak now. Alright. No problem, sir."

Bucky handed the phone back to you with a wink before grabbing his clothes and putting it back together. Once he got his shirt and blazer on, he went to grab his tie that was still in your clutches. He couldn't fight the urge to plant a soft kiss to your temple while you were on the phone before he put it back on. He also cleaned up the mess he made with a tissue from the box on your desk, tossing it in the nearby trash can. When he took the entire box and handed it to you, he snickered when you snatched it from him to clean yourself up, effectively shooing him away while trying to hide a smile.

The Congressman put his hands up in defense before giving you a small salute, leaving you alone. Once the call ended and you got yourself situated, you put your heels back on and quickly walked over back to him, giving him a tender kiss and fixing his hair.

"Now go. I have an election to think about."

[vunblr]

Foundations (#1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky). Smut.

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 8.1.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok. Let’s just pretend for a bit.

Two years ago.

Steve crouched in the snow-dusted ruins of the Hydra facility, surrounded by the faint hum of outdated machinery and the occasional creak of the aging structure. The air in the base carried a mix of metallic tang and decay as if the building itself was holding its last breaths. He ran his gloved hand along a table coated with frost and dust before stopping in front of a row of cryogenic chambers.

Each pod told a story of Hydra’s grotesque obsession with human experimentation. Steve’s sharp gaze scanned them uneasily and when he reached the last chamber, he froze.

Encased in cryogenic suspension, there was a small boy, no older than three, with his delicate features eerily serene within the frosted glass. The sight made his stomach twist.

Natasha’s voice crackled through the comms. “Steve, what did you find?”

He pressed a hand against the glass. “It’s a boy. About… two or three years old. Cryostasis. We need to get him out of here.”

His eyes darted to a nearby desk, where he eyed a weathered folder with its corners curled with age. Flipping it open, he scanned the documents, and his stomach churned with every line. “This- he is not a kidnapped normal human boy… they’ve been using fertilization methods here. Thirty samples and only this child lived after birth. The mother died in labor. Nat-” Steve’s voice got strained. “He’s… he’s Bucky’s son.”

The line remained silent for a moment before Natasha answered cautiously. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. There’s… documentation here, DNA confirmations. God, he doesn’t even have a name. Just a designation: A-25.”

A beat of silence passed again, heavy with the implication before Natasha’s voice softened. “What do you want to do?”

Steve exhaled slowly, his breath clouding the icy air. “We can’t just leave him here.”

-----

Back on the Quinjet, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The cryo-pod rested in the cargo bay, its faint orange light casting an otherworldly glow over the steel walls. Steve sat on a bench, with his elbows rested on his knees and his hands pressed on his face, wrestling with the enormity of the decision he’d just made. Across from him, two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stood stiffly, with palpable apprehension.

“Captain Rogers,” one of them began, breaking the tense silence. “Moving him to the tower isn’t viable. We don’t know what kind of conditioning Hydra implemented, or if the kid is enhanced. He could be dangerous.”

Steve’s head snapped up, pinning the agent in place with his gaze. “He’s a child. And from what I read; he didn’t inherit the serum properties. Whatever Hydra did to him, it’s on us to undo it. Leaving him here or handing him over to a government lab isn’t an option.”

The agent shifted uneasily. “And if he’s unstable? Wha-”

Steve set his jaw, leaning back against the cold metal wall with determination. “Then I’ll handle it,” he cut firmly. “But we are not abandoning him.”

----

Two nights later in the common room, Steve, Natasha, and Tony gathered to discuss the next steps. The atmosphere was heavy. Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a skeptical expression.

“Look, I’m not saying we keep this from Barnes,” he pointed out with a little hesitation. “But you’ve seen him, Steve. He’s barely keeping himself together most days. Throwing a kid into the mix?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, and he hardened his gaze. “That’s not your call to make. He deserves to know.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Even if it sends him over the edge?”

“He’s stronger than you think,” Steve countered firmly. “And he’s not alone, even if sometimes he thinks he is. If he decides to step up, we’ll help him. All of us. That boy is his only family, Tony. Bucky deserves the chance to decide what kind of relationship he wants with him.”

----

Present.

Two weeks into the new school year, she stood at the kindergarten’s gate, greeting the kids with a warm smile. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves, and shades of orange and gold framed the cheerful faces of the kids as they laughed and ran to their friends. Each day, they’d formed a routine, walking together through the small park leading to the school hall.

Nearly everyone had arrived when, just as she was about to close the gate, she noticed a figure approaching. Her gaze landed on a tall man with strikingly beautiful yet tired blue eyes. His hesitant steps betrayed a certain nervousness. Beside him walked a boy, the spitting image of him, with the same dark hair and soulful eyes. They were unfamiliar to her, but she knew immediately who they must be.

Thomas Barnes and, presumably, his father.

The director had informed her about the new student, explaining that, for personal reasons, the boy would start a bit later than the others. Now here they were, standing on the threshold of a new chapter.

She stepped forward with a warm smile. “You must be Thomas,” she said gently, crouching slightly to meet the boy’s gaze. Then she looked up at the man, her voice equally kind. “And you must be his dad. Welcome.”

The child hugged his father’s leg when he realized he had to go in alone. Bucky bit his lip, placing a hand on the boy’s head. “Kiddo, we talked about this. I’ll pick you up at three, and then we’ll go to Uncle Steve’s,” he said softly.

Then he gave her an apologetic look. “Also, what do we always say? Manners. You didn’t even greet Miss...”

Oh. She got so distracted by the pair that her clouded mind didn’t even consider the basic introductions. “Sorry! I’m Miss Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you two.”

The boy separated one hand from his father’s leg and, straightening his posture but with a quivering lip, offered his hand like a little gentleman. “I’m Thomas. I’m five years old, and… and I will be in your care.”

She shook his hand, surprised and delighted. “Well, aren’t you a little gentleman,” she said warmly.

The bell rang, and she straightened up. “Well, that is our cue. Would you like to come inside? There are lots of boys and girls who would love to meet and play with you,” she reassured. Then she looked at Bucky. “And, as your papa -Mr. Barnes- said, he’ll be here when we finish.”

“James,” Bucky said promptly, stretching out his hand firm but gently to shake hers. She felt a traitorous warmth rise in her cheeks when their gaze met at closer range. His tired blue eyes held more than exhaustion; something softer and more vulnerable lingered there, though it was quickly masked. Apprehension, perhaps? He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and yet, somehow, he was effortlessly handsome.

“Nice to meet you, James,” she managed, keeping her tone calm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, your little one will be fine, you’ll see.”

Bucky nodded once, briskly but slightly hesitant. “Yeah, I-I know. Alright, Kiddo,” he said, crouching slightly to Thomas’s level, in a low and encouraging voice. “You listen to your teacher and... have fun, alright? Just like we talked about.”

Thomas clung to his father’s jeans for a moment longer, small fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. His lip quivered, and he glanced back at her with uncertain eyes. For a brief second, she wondered if he might refuse to let go, but then, slowly, he released his grip. The boy stepped toward her, tentative but brave, and positioned himself by her side.

She crouched again, offering him an encouraging smile. “You’re going to have a wonderful day, Thomas. I’ll be right here with you.”

The reassurance seemed to help. Thomas nodded shyly, though he didn’t speak. When she stood again, she noticed Bucky watching his son with an expression that tugged at her heart, equal parts pride and pain.

With a single nod of acknowledgment toward her, he straightened and turned on his heel, walking away without looking back. She couldn’t help but watch him for a moment longer than she should have, her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders as he disappeared down the path. She exhaled softly, turning her attention back to Thomas.

“Shall we?” she asked gently, holding out her hand.

Thomas hesitated, but then his small hand slid into hers. Together, they walked toward the classroom, the sound of children’s laughter welcoming them into a new day.

----

Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he strolled along the sidewalk, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. Two years. It had been two years since Thomas came into his life, and now, for the first time, he was entrusting his care to someone else’s hands, strangers, no less. It might have seemed like an ordinary milestone for any other parent, but ordinary wasn’t a word that had ever described his life.

Normalcy was a foreign concept in their household. From the moment Steve had walked into the tower with that cryo-pod and the revelation of Thomas’s existence, everything had shifted. Even in the haze of his own self-doubt and fucked up brain, Bucky had known there was only one choice to make. Despite the murmurs of alternatives offered to him -guardianship through S.H.I.E.L.D. programs, adoption options- he hadn’t hesitated.

Responsibility. He owed the child that much, even if the idea of raising him terrified him to his core. How could he possibly be a parent when he was barely figuring out how to be himself? A walking mess trying to navigate a world he no longer fit into, burdened by guilt, memories, and nightmares. But Thomas wasn’t just a child, he was his child, a fragile thread tethering Bucky to something tangible and real.

The first months had been the hardest. Thomas, scared and silent, flinched at shadows and refused to speak more than a handful of words. A traumatized child by his earliest experiences, molded by Hydra’s cruel hands, and burdened with a fragility that made Bucky’s heart ache almost everyday. He could barely bring himself to imagine what might have happened if Steve hadn’t found him in that lab.

It wasn’t a journey he could have managed alone. Living at the Avengers Tower, he had been reluctant at first to accept help from the team. Steve, of course, had been steadfast and supportive, as expected. But what surprised Bucky the most was how the others had stepped in. Natasha’s guidance when words failed him, Wanda’s ability to soothe the boy, and even Tony’s seemingly endless stream of resources, like the top-tier child therapists he’d hired without hesitation.

Thomas was lucky, in a way, that Hydra’s experiments hadn’t left him with the serum’s super-soldier effects. The organization had tried, forcing serum-adjacent treatments to awaken something dormant, but to no avail. It was a relief Bucky carried deeply, though it did little to soften his guilt for not being there to stop it sooner.

Over time, they found a constant rhythm in their lives. Bucky wasn’t perfect -far from it- but he learned how to be there for Thomas. He showed him that food wasn’t a reward to fear, that adults could offer love instead of pain, that bedtime stories were for comfort and not to kept teaching lessons until he closed his exhausted eyes. Slowly but surely, the child started to blossom, inching out of his shell, exploring the world with a tentative kind of hope.

Still, Bucky knew they couldn’t stay in the protective bubble of the tower forever. Thomas needed more: kids his age, a chance to experience life outside their small, cloistered world. It had taken time, but Bucky finally worked up the nerve to rent an apartment for the two of them and begin the daunting process of finding a kindergarten.

The search was harder than expected. On paper, the process was simple: call, inquire, and enroll. In practice, things unraveled quickly. Many schools initially expressed enthusiasm, but the moment they learned Thomas was the son of that James Barnes, things changed. “Administrative errors” cropped up, classes mysteriously filled to capacity, or calls simply went unanswered.

When Tony offered to pull strings, Bucky refused. He wasn’t about to force his son into a place where the only motivation was Stark’s money. He didn’t want Thomas in an environment where whispers followed him down the hall, or where teachers tiptoed around him out of fear or prejudice.

So, he kept searching. Two weeks into the semester, he finally found a place. It was modest, tucked into a quiet neighborhood, with no interest in his past beyond the necessary paperwork. No judgment. No lingering stares. Just a promise to give Thomas a chance, and that was all Bucky needed.

As he walked away from the schoolyard, leaving Thomas in the care of his teacher and her warm smile, he tried to shake the tension in his chest. Rationally, he knew it was the right step. Thomas deserved to experience childhood, and this was the first of many milestones.

Still, the ache of leaving was sharper than he’d expected.

----

Thomas’s first day could have been better, but it wasn’t terrible either. As expected, the transition wasn’t easy. He seemed overwhelmed by the number of children around him. Though the school was small, nine energetic five-year-olds in one room was a stark contrast to the quiet, adult-dominated environment he’d grown up in.

The morning began with a formal introduction, as she guided Thomas gently to the front of the room. “Everyone, this is Thomas. Let’s all say hello!” she announced with her ever-patient smile.

A chorus of cheerful voices greeted him in unison, and Thomas blinked, wide-eyed, shifting closer to her side. Throughout the day, he stuck to her like a shadow, quietly observing the other children. His curious gaze darted from one group to another, watching how they played together, laughed, and squabbled.

The first hiccup came when two boys got into a brief tug-of-war over a toy truck. Thomas visibly tensed, his small shoulders stiffening as he clutched the hem of her skirt. She quickly diffused the situation and offered Thomas a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Thomas, sometimes there are quarrels, but nothing to worry about,” she said softly, her voice soothing as she rested a hand on his shoulder. He nodded but didn’t move from his spot.

Flora, one of the more outgoing girls in the class, made several attempts to coax Thomas into playing with her. Each time, she would approach with a bright smile and an outstretched hand, only to be gently refused as he shook his head and clung to his teacher. “Thomas is feeling a little shy today,” she explained kindly to Flora. “But I bet he’ll join you soon.” Flora nodded enthusiastically, skipping back to her friends, undeterred.

When the day finally wound to a close, the children were picked up one by one, their parents ushering them out with cheerful waves and chatter. Soon, the classroom emptied, leaving only her and Thomas. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes past pick-up time. Not late enough to be alarming, but enough to notice the change in Thomas.

The boy sat stiffly on a bench near the gate, his small chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. She crouched down in front of him, “Hey, Thomas, it’s okay. Your dad will be here soon, I promise. While we wait, want to learn a game?”

The child blinked at her, with glassy eyes by unshed tears and then nodded hesitantly.

She held out her hands and showed him a simple clapping game. The rhythm seemed to distract him, his and his breathing slowed down as he focused on mimicking her motions. They repeated the sequence a few times, and she rewarded him with a bright smile each time he got it right.

Then, footsteps approached the gate, and she looked up to see James Barnes hurrying toward them, with a concerned expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he said breathlessly, his blue eyes flicking from her to Thomas. “Traffic was worse than I expected-”

“Papa!” the small voice broke through as he bolted toward his father, tears streaming down his face now that the wait was over.

Bucky crouched and scooped him up immediately, cradling him close with his gloved hands. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmured with guilt. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. I won’t be late again, I promise.”

As he held his son tightly, he turned toward her, ready to apologize again. But when he met her gaze, something in his chest shifted, just a flicker, something too fleeting to name.

She was smiling, kind and patient, with a softness in her expression that made it painfully obvious she wasn’t upset about waiting.

That shouldn’t have stood out. But it did.

“I’m sorry for making you wait and... taking up your time. It won’t happen again.”

She shook her head with a kind smile. “It’s alright. He was fine, really. And the game helped. Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky gave her a grateful look, softening his features just enough to show how much he appreciated her patience. “Thanks... for everything.”

She was about to respond when something crossed her mind. She hesitated briefly before speaking. “Um, Mr. Barnes -James- do you think we could schedule a meeting sometime this week? I usually interview families during the first days to get to know them better, but since Thomas started a bit later, we haven’t had the chance. If you’d like, we can arrange a time that works for you.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she quickly added, “Of course, if you need to check with Mrs-”

“It’s just me,” he interrupted, firmer than intended but not unkind.

She blinked. “Oh.”

Just him.

Her expression didn’t change much, she simply nodded, adjusting quickly, but something about her expression made his throat go dry.

“Alright,” she said smoothly, “how does tomorrow at 1 PM sound?”

Bucky knitted his brows, working through something in his mind. She took the hesitation as doubt and quickly reassured him, “The interviews take place during school hours. Another teacher covers my class while I meet with parents. It’s all planned out.”

He nodded after a moment, letting the arrangement settle.

“Then it’s a date.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Silence. His own brain screeched to a halt.

Shit.

The second the words left his mouth, he froze. Why the hell did he have to use that word? He shows up late on the first day, and instead of keeping his shit together, he throws that word in her face like some creep. What is she going to think? That he’s hitting on her? That he doesn’t take this seriously? His mind started spiraling as always, and he glanced at her, waiting for her reaction, expecting something-anything- that signaled she’s offended or uncomfortable.

But she only smiled. Not a smirk, not teasing, just… warm. Like she hadn’t even registered the slip, or worse, like she had and found it endearing.

“Alright, Mr. Barnes. See you tomorrow. Bye, Thomas! Have a wonderful afternoon!”

He nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and walked toward the gate with Thomas in his arms. The tension in his shoulders was killing him, and his mind kept spiraling. Why couldn’t he have just said meeting like a normal person?

-----

He arrived five minutes early. Pressing the doorbell, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, exhaling quietly as he waited.

A moment later, a soft buzz hummed from the side gate, signaling that he should push to enter. The latch clicked open under his touch, and he stepped through, strolling into the modest front yard where tiny footprints were imprinted into the damp soil, remnants of an afternoon spent playing.

As he neared the entrance, the building’s front door swung open, and there she was, standing at the threshold to receive him.

She hadn’t expected him to be so… put together.

Her breath hitched for half a second as she took him in, her brain momentarily short-circuiting before she caught herself. He was overdressed for a simple parent-teacher chat. His hair was neatly tied into a short ponytail, keeping the strands away from his sharp, striking features. The crisp black shirt he wore, fitted just right, framing his broad shoulders like a second skin, the mother-of-pearl blue buttons subtly gleaming under the soft afternoon light. The contrast of the dark fabric against his fair skin only made his blue eyes stand out even more.

She blinked, suddenly aware that she had been staring, like an absolute idiot, at that.

Her own reflection in the glass door made her painfully self-conscious. She had thrown on a comfortable jumper that morning, warm and practical, paired with an open wool jacket she hadn’t given much thought to. Now, under his gaze, she felt underdressed.

Shaking off the ridiculous thought, she straightened her posture and smiled, keeping her voice even. “Mr. Barnes, right on time.”

His lips twitched slightly, almost a smile, but not quite. “James. Figured I shouldn’t be late twice in a row.”

She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. “Come on in. Would you like some tea or coffee before we start?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Tea, if it’s not a hassle.”

“No hassle at all,” she assured him, leading the way inside.

As he followed her down the hallway, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. This was just a meeting, a standard conversation about Thomas. That was all. She led him into the small office and closed the door with a soft click.

With him inside, the space suddenly felt even smaller, almost claustrophobic. As he settled into the chair, she turned toward the small counter, flipping on the electric kettle. With her back to him, she absently tugged at the neckline of her jumper, then glanced down, frowning as she noticed a faint smear of green tempera near the hem. Great. Just great. She tried to rub it away discreetly, but the stain refused to budge.

Forcing herself to move on, she turned around, offering a professional -and hopefully not too flustered- smile. “So, Mr. Barnes.”

“James is really alright,” he repeated. Then he asked himself if there was a rule to use the last name, and she was trying to make him notice that fact politely by still addressing him with formality.

She nodded. “Alright, James.” The name felt different on her tongue, more personal somehow, and for some reason, it flustered her to use it. She cleared her throat, refocusing. “I’m going to ask some questions about Thomas’s daily life and family status so we can start building his file.”

At that, she caught the way his gloved hands tensed over his knees. It was subtle, just the smallest tightening of his fingers, but she noticed. His expression, however, remained unreadable: calm, polite, the perfect picture of an agreeable parent sitting through a standard school procedure.

But she knew better.

Not wanting to push too soon, she offered an alternative. “Also, if you’re interested, I can tell you briefly about yesterday and today’s steps in his integration.”

Something shifted in his posture at that. Not much, but enough. A small breath in, a glance toward her, like a man bracing for news he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding. “I’d like that.”

----

Bucky felt little beads of sweat trickling down his spine. Was he trying too much?

He shifted slightly, flexing his fingers over his knees as he stole a glance at himself, just a quick, discreet look. Then, at her, and then, at the tiny office around them, shelves stacked with colorful folders, walls decorated with cheerful crayon drawings.

Back in his time, people dressed better. If a parent had to meet with a teacher, for whatever reason, it was treated as a formal occasion. A suit, a tie. The respect was shown in one’s presentation. So, naturally, he thought the right thing to do was clean up good.

Now, sitting in that too-small, squeaky green chair, with that attractive lovely lady making him tea, he felt like a goddamn wedding cake doll.

Her jumper was slightly wrinkled, her open wool jacket practical and cozy, and there was that stubborn little stain on the hem that she’d tried to wipe away when she thought he wasn’t looking. She belonged in this space, warm and natural, while he looked like he had an appointment with a boardroom, not a kindergarten teacher.

He swallowed, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Too late to do anything about it now.

"Alright," she said, settling across from him with a patient smile. "Where do you want to start? The interrogation about personal matters or how Thomas is adjusting to his partners and environment?"

Bucky barely hesitated. "The second one."

She smiled knowingly as if she had expected that answer. “He was a little introverted at first, which is completely normal for a child his age in a new group. Most of the kids already knew each other, so he’s still figuring out where he fits in.”

Bucky nodded, listening intently.

She hesitated for a second before continuing, careful but warm. “He’s also a bit… dependent.”

That made something in Bucky’s chest tighten.

“Which, again, is perfectly normal,” she reassured quickly, reading the shift in his expression. “Especially considering his background. I have no problem giving him the comfort and reassurance he needs throughout the day. But maybe, with time, we can work on building his independence a little.” She offered him a gentle smile. “But overall, James, he’s a lovely kid. Really.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. Lovely. Not a problem. Not difficult. Just… lovely.

She turned to retrieve the tea, and as she was about to place his mug on the table, the sleeve of her wool jacket caught on a rough splinter in the wood. The movement sent the cup tipping, and a small splash of hot liquid spilled onto her hand and the table.

“Oh, fuc-” She caught herself just in time, trading the curse for a flustered, “Oh, dear.” She hastily set the mug down, shaking her wrist slightly as she clutched her burned fingers.

Before Bucky even registered the thought, his body moved on instinct. Old chivalry, muscle memory, -maybe both- he reached out, pulling off his glove in one swift motion and gently cradling her injured hand in his own. He wrapped his cool metal fingers around hers, as an automatic attempt to soothe the burn.

She tensed.

The reaction was so small that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But he did. The slight stiffening of her shoulders, the way her breath caught, the way she froze beneath his touch for a fraction of a second.

His brain caught up with his actions.

Shit.

This was something he did all the time with Thomas, an instinctive, unconscious movement, one that made sense when it was his son crying over scraped knees or bumped elbows. But this wasn’t Thomas. This his son’s teacher. A stranger, technically. And here he was, holding her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He winced inwardly, twitching his fingers slightly as if preparing to pull away, to apologize, to-

But then, she relaxed.

Just enough for him to notice. Her grip eased slightly as her fingers rested in his palm, still warm from the tea. And then, to his utter surprise, she let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Well,” she murmured, “I guess that’s one way to handle it. Thank you,” she said, sincerily.

Bucky swallowed hard.

He wasn’t accustomed to people thanking him. Hell, he wasn’t accustomed to people wanting to share a space with him. The proof of that was in how damn difficult it had been to find a school willing to take Thomas in without judgment.

Was it always so hot in here?

The stupid shirt Steve had lent him to look presentable felt glued to his skin, clinging uncomfortably as a fresh wave of heat crept up his neck. He let go of her hand -reluctantly- and with a quick movement, he popped open a couple of the top buttons, trying to breathe. His fingers ran absentmindedly through his hair in the process, loosening a few strands from the short ponytail.

She blinked.

Hard.

His deep voice cut through the charged moment. “Don’t mention it. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” He murmured the words as he hastily pulled his glove back on, as if reestablishing some invisible boundary he had accidentally crossed.

It took her a second -maybe two- to remember how to speak after that sight.

“Oh, not at all,” she finally managed, waving her hand nonchalantly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, so you are perdoned.”

“Oh, good,” he added promptly.

“Yeah, good,” she echoed.

And then- silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

The kind that stretched for just a few seconds too long, making the air feel thick and awkward. It was ridiculous, really. She was supposed to be having a professional conversation, and yet here she was, staring at him like a flustered schoolgirl while he sat there, stiff and unreadable, probably wondering if she had a single functioning brain cell left.

Snapping herself out of it, she straightened in her chair, clearing her throat as she grabbed a folder and a pen. Professional. Focused.

“Let’s start with the questions,” she stated, determined to get back on track. “How is the family group composed?”

A faint tick appeared in his jaw. “Just the two of us.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “Do you receive any kind of support from extended family members or close friends?”

Bucky hesitated. “I have… friends.” A pause. Then, a little softer, “Oh, um… my friend Steve is like an uncle to him.”

She froze for half a second, pen hovering above the paper. Steve.

As in Steve Rogers.

And suddenly, the fact that James Barnes -Bucky Barnes- was sitting in her tiny office, answering questions about kindergarten pickup times and playtime habits, felt almost surreal.

But she pushed past it, nodding as if it was just any other answer. “Tell me about a normal day in Thomas’ life. From the moment he wakes up until bedtime.”

The questions continued, one after another. But to his surprise, none of them were invasive.

Nothing about him. Nothing about his past. Nothing about the child’s mother.

She was only interested in Thomas, his routines, his favorite activities, the people who cared for him. What made him happy, what calmed him down, what sparked his curiosity.

And he just felt… like a normal Dad.

She tapped the pen against her lower lip, scanning the notes she had just taken, furrowing her brows slightly in concentration.

Bucky tried to keep his eyes anywhere else; on the folder, on the damn splintered table, but somehow, his gaze flickered back to her.

Her lips were slightly parted. Soft. That translucent lip gloss she wore caught the autumn light just enough to glisten innocently. She didn’t seem aware of it, of the way the movement drew attention, of how effortless it was.

He clenched his jaw. Pathetic.

Maybe Sam had a point. Maybe he really did need to -what was how he had said it?- "get some." Because sitting here, staring at his kid’s teacher like the virgin Steve used to be back in the day, was not normal.

Especially when she was just… there. In a damn tempera-stained jumper, flipping through papers, completely unaware that his brain had short-circuited over something as simple as the way she absentmindedly pressed the tip of the pen to her lip.

He shifted slightly in his seat, making the little chair squeak under his weight. He needed to get a grip.

She looked up then, extending the forms she had just filled out. “Here, read it, and if it’s fine for you, please sign it, and we’re done.”

He reached for the papers, his fingers briefly grazing hers. She was already moving, sorting through more documents, rummaging inside what looked like her purse as he scanned the form.

A moment later, he signed it, handed it back, and stood up.

The room somehow felt even smaller with him standing.

She tucked the papers into a folder, then hesitated for the briefest second before extending something toward him. A small, brightly wrapped raspberry lollipop.

He just looked at it.

She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, um- it’s just a thing we do,” she explained, feeling a little ridiculous. “Teachers give a sweet to the parent who comes in for the visit. A friendly token.”

Bucky glanced at the candy, then at her.

Slowly, he reached out, taking it from her hand.

“If you feel too old to try it, give it to Thomas,” she teased lightly. “Though I must say, they’re pretty good.”

Bucky barely managed to keep his expression neutral as an entirely inappropriate image flashed through his mind involving her slightly parted lips against the bright red lollipop, swirling her tongue over the slick, glossy-

Nope. Absolutely not. He shoved the thought into the darkest corner of his brain and slammed the door shut.

Clearing his throat, he glanced at the candy in his palm. He was pretty sure the last time he had something like this was in the ‘20s, running through cobblestone streets in short, ragged pants and scraped knees. It felt oddly foreign now, a relic of a time buried long ago.

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” he muttered, tucking the candy into his jeans pocket, trying to expel the compelling thoughts swirling at the back of his mind.

Her smile lingered a moment as she straightened the papers, and again, the moment stretched just enough to make the air feel heavier than before.

She cleared her throat. “Well, the institution will be asking for another meeting in about three months to give you an update on how he’s doing. It’s the same for all the kids,” she explained, slipping back into professional mode.

Bucky nodded, adjusting his stance slightly, like he was grateful to have something to focus on.

“I’ve also added you to the parents-teacher WhatsApp group," she continued, "as a way to communicate news, the things kids should bring, upcoming events, that kind of stuff.” She hesitated, glancing at her notes before adding, “Um… it says you don’t have the app installed, so it would be great if you could download it.”

And then, silence.

Bucky barely moved, but something in his posture changed. His gaze flickered toward the small table, where his old clamshell phone rested near his keys.

She noticed.

That was not a smartphone, and it was definitely not suited for a parent-teacher chitchat group.

Before he could say anything, she quickly added, “It’s a policy here, since, well… it’s assumed everyone has it.” She smiled, small and reassuring. “But don’t worry, I can send you a normal text separately with the same information. Just… without the cool emojis, I’ll have to stick to ASCII.” She winked.

That got something out of him, a faint huff, not quite a laugh, but close. His shoulders relaxed just slightly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Appreciate that.”

----

After a couple of months, Bucky was relieved -no, grateful- to see Thomas flourishing in his new environment.

The once-quiet, wary boy had slowly started to open up. He was more talkative now, his voice no longer a whisper but something steadier, stronger. He laughed more, flinched less. When he came home from school, he actually talked about his day, about the games they played, about Flora and Matthew, about how Miss Y/n read the best stories and always did the funniest voices.

Bucky didn’t know if she realized just how much of a difference she had made.

One afternoon, while Thomas was scribbling dinosaurs at the kitchen table, Bucky’s old clamshell phone vibrated against the counter.

He flipped it open. A general message from her number.

Dear families, our annual fundraising event is coming up! Each grade and nursery group will participate by preparing goodies to sell, baked treats, crafts, and more! We encourage everyone to take part and help make it a great day for the kids!

Bucky was already closing the phone when it binged another time. It was her again.

Don’t know about your culinary expertise, but we could really use some strong dads to help build the booths this saturday ;)

He blinked.

A just-for-him message.

For a second, he only stared at it, like his brain needed to catch up. The winking face at the end nearly made him short-circuit.

Clearly, she was recruiting him for his enhanced strength.

It wasn’t like the other parents would be thrilled to have him around. He rarely talked to them, never lingered after pickup, never engaged in small talk about school trips or birthday parties. The most interaction he got was a nod or a hesitant smile. Acknowledgment, but never an invitation.

And he understood why. He wasn’t the kind of dad people naturally gravitated toward. He wasn’t friendly like Steve, or charming like Sam. He was… him. Quiet. Intimidating. A man with too much history and too little practice in fitting into normal spaces.

So why would anyone want him there?

He exhaled sharply, glancing at the message again. Maybe she’d sent the same thing to a few others. Maybe it wasn’t just for him.

But… she had sent it. With a winky face.

And despite the self-doubt crawling at the back of his mind, he couldn’t ignore the small, reluctant warmth blooming in his chest.

Because for whatever reason, she thought to ask.

-----

When the Saturday came, Bucky was sharp on time at the open kindergarten gate, with Steve.

Not that it had taken too much to convince him. Steve, being the charitable man he was, never missed an opportunity to help. But Bucky also knew his friend well enough to recognize the other reason he had agreed to come so quickly, curiosity. Curiosity about the place Thomas spent his days. And curiosity about the “winking emote teacher.”

Bucky had two reasons for bringing Steve.

One: With two super soldiers on site, setting up the booths would take a fraction of the time.

Two: He didn’t want to come alone. Not that he’d admit it outright, but walking into a social setting full of parents and staff -people he knew saw him as an outsider even if they tried to mask it- felt a little too exposed. At least with Steve there, the focus will be put elsewhere, and he knew his level of self-consciousness will drop.

Of course, Steve suspected as much. But to his credit, he had the courtesy of not saying anything.

They hadn’t been there long enough when he spotted her across the yard, balancing a few wooden planks in her arms as she walked toward the setup area. She was focused, navigating carefully, until a rogue Lego piece nearly sent her sprawling.

In an instant Steve was there, supporting her before she could hit the ground.

She let out a startled gasp, gripping his forearms instinctively. And then, the realization showed all over her face. Because holy shit, Captain America was in the kindergarten.

“Uh- thanks,” she said, letting go of his forearms, looking a little flustered.

Steve, ever the gentleman, just smiled. “No problem.”

Then, as if remembering there were other people present, she glanced over his shoulder, and finally noticed Bucky, standing just a few steps behind, looking slightly out of place.

Her face lit up with recognition. “Oh, hey! You made it. and with backup! That adds points, you know” She grinned, tilting her head playfully. “More help means more credit when it’s time to take home the leftover cakes and pies.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s a thing?”

“Absolutely.” She crossed her arms, pretending to be serious. “Hard work should be rewarded. And what better prize than free dessert?”

Steve chuckled, throwing Bucky a look. “See, now that’s motivation.”

Bucky shifted slightly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah. Um I thought some extra hands would come in handy, anyway.”

She nodded, rocking back on her heels slightly. “Well, I’m glad you did. We can definitely use the help, some of these booths have been in storage forever, and let’s just say… they’re not in peak condition.”

Steve smirked. “Don’t worry ma’am, we’ll make sure they stand up straight.”

She snorted. “That’s the bare minimum we’re hoping for, yeah.” Then she proceeded to give them a quick rundown of what was needed: booth assembly, structural support, and general heavy lifting. After making sure they understood, she left them to it, moving to a shaded corner where a group of teachers and moms were busy painting banners.

As Bucky grabbed a plank, Steve picked up another, glancing over his shoulder toward her. Then, with a knowing half-smile, he turned to Bucky.

“So… I assume she is Tommy’s teacher?”

Bucky didn’t even look up. Just gave a curt nod, with an unreadable expression.

Steve hummed. “She’s cute.”

He didn’t take the bait. Just kept his gaze firmly on the plank in his hands, jaw tightening just a fraction.

Steve pressed a little more. “Real cute.”

This time, Bucky gave him a noncommittal grunt. No eye contact. No reaction.

"Do you think the teachers might do a kissing booth?" Steve asked nonchalantly, setting a plank into place like he hadn’t just thrown a live grenade into the conversation.

That got a reaction.

Bucky’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second before he shot him a side glance. “…Is that still a thing nowadays?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah. Dunno if it’s as chaste as it was in our time, Buck, but it’s still runnin’. Clint told me sometimes they have them at his kids’ school.”

Bucky pressed his mouth into a thin line, gripping the hammer a little tighter.

Steve chuckled, sensing an opening. “I mean, it makes sense, you know. A lot of divorced dads…”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” Bucky cut him off, hammering a plank into place with maybe a little too much force. The loud crack of wood echoed through the yard.

Steve just smirked. “Touchy subject?”

Bucky ignored him, grabbing another nail.

"You know, Buck, I think you should ask her out."

"Shut up, punk."

"I'm serious. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Bucky turned to him, giving him a look so dry it could’ve drained the Atlantic. His next words were slow, like he was explaining something to a mentally impaired person.

"Let’s see. First of all, she’s my child’s teacher. It’s unethical."

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky steamrolled right over him.

"Two, I can barely deal with myself most days. I can’t trust my own mind sometimes. I’m trying to put my shit together because of Thomas, but you know there are days I can barely get out of bed. So adding another person into our lives right now?" He shook his head. "I don’t think that’s a good idea."

Steve stayed quiet, watching him.

"And three," Bucky exhaled, returning to the plank, "I don’t think she’d be interested, damn I even don’t know if she is seeing someone. And I don’t want to make our interactions weird."

Steve tilted his head, giving him a look that was both skeptical and amused but, to Bucky’s relief, he kept his mouth shut didn’t press further.

-----

After a couple of hours, Bucky and Steve eventually split up, taking on different tasks. As expected, Steve had a small crowd of parents ‘casually’ gravitating around him, helping with his station while subtly asking for pictures and sneaking in questions between hammering and measuring.

Bucky, meanwhile, retreated to a quieter corner, bending some metal pipes to straighten the framework. It was a stark contrast, really. Steve walked into a place and illuminated it, drew people in without even trying. And Bucky… well.

He worked alone, unnoticed. Or so he thought.

A sudden hand on his shoulder broke his trance, and he startled just slightly.

“Sorry!” she promptly removed her hand. “I called your name, but you didn’t seem to hear.”

Bucky just blinked, “It’s fine.”

She smiled, holding up a thermos. “Thought maybe you’d want some coffee?”

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he tried to shake off the momentary stiffness. “I, uh… yeah. That’d be nice. Thank you.” His voice came out a little rough, and his eye contact was fleeting at best.

Fucking Steve. Bringing up his nonexistent love life like an asshole, and now Bucky was hyperaware of her presence. Every small shift of her stance, every little tilt of her head. It was funny -no, it wasn’t- how their roles had completely reversed.

Once upon a time, Steve had been the one fumbling, awkward, struggling to find his footing with women. And now? He was Captain America, confident and magnetic, while Bucky was… whatever the hell this was. A fucking mess.

“Thank you for coming, James. Really,” she said as she poured coffee into a small cup.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“And thanks for bringing help with you,” she added playfully. “It seems everyone is livelier since you two got here.”

He grumbled something under his breath, bending the pipe back and forth absentmindedly, like someone fidgeting with a strand of grass.

She caught the movement and grinned. “Showoff.”

Bucky huffed, pressing his lips into a firm line to stop the small, unwilling twitch of amusement threatening to surface.

“I’m going to miss this,” she said suddenly, looking at the thermos handle. “The community here is really nice. Luckily, I’ll still be around for the event.”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to her “What?”

She blinked. “I said, I’m going to miss-”

“Are you taking a vacation?” he interrupted, unable to stop himself.

Her brows furrowed slightly. “What? No-” Then, she realized. “Oh. James… Jane is coming back.”

Bucky just stared at her, the words not quite clicking in his brain. “Who?”

She tilted her head, looking almost apologetic. “Jane. The actual teacher. I thought you knew, I’m just a substitute. The real teacher was on medical leave, but she’s ready to return now.”

The words settled like a slow drop of ink into water, spreading, tainting something that had been perfect moments ago.

“I didn’t- didn’t know,” he admitted, quietly. Maybe because Thomas had entered late in the school year, they’d missed that little piece of information.

She seemed to notice the shift in him, the way his grip tightened around the empty cup. There was a certain distress in his expression, subtle but there.

“Don’t worry,” she said gently, trying to reassure him. “Jane is an excellent teacher and person. Thomas will be thrilled to have her in the class.”

Bucky nodded, curtly, handing the thermos cup back.

In all the interactions he’d had with her, the drop-offs, their little conversations, the parent meeting, the fact that she was just a substitute had never popped up.

"When’s your last day?" he asked, suddenly very interested in the twisted pipe in his hands.

“The Friday before the event,” she replied. “I’m still going to participate since I helped organize it, but by Monday, Jane will be here.” She paused, as if anticipating his reaction. “I can assure you, It won’t be a sudden change for the kids. This week, she’ll come for a couple of hours every day to introduce herself so they can get used to her.”

Bucky gave a slow nod, gripping the metal a little tighter than necessary.

It shouldn’t have really mattered. It shouldn’t have made him feel anything at all.

And yet, the news bothered him.

Because things had been fine. He wasn’t close to her, not in any significant way, but she was a constant. And if there was one thing Bucky Barnes wasn’t fond of, it was change.

It wasn’t like he had been expecting anything more than what he already had, which wasn’t much. Just crumbs, really. Small moments of connection. Casual chats, occasional teasing remarks that made something in his chest pull in a way he ignored. The way she talked to him like any other parent—like a man, not a reputation.

But it wasn’t just that, was it?

There were other things, little details that had wormed their way into his awareness without permission. The way her voice softened when she spoke to Thomas. The way her soft body looked like it would fit perfectly against his if he just- no. The way her eyes lingered on him just a second longer than necessary sometimes, making him wonder if…

Bucky exhaled sharply, straightening his pose, forcing the thoughts back.

It was comfortable. And, somehow, warm.

And now she was going to leave.

And maybe it was stupid, but it affected him more than he wanted to admit.

Chapter 2

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[live-love-be-unique]

P. R Nightmare

Series summary: A public relations job typically involves managing an individual or organisation’s reputation and building relationships with the public and media. It generally does not include superheros, terrorist organisations, middle-aged Russian super soldiers who breach media regulations and crushing on a client/ coworker.

This is a Robert (Bob) Reynolds x fem!reader series

Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, no specific details about reader appearance are given. Specific warnings will be provided at each chapter.

After battling the New York subway system — which you’re pretty sure had a vendetta against you — you’d made it to your office later than you’d liked. There had been no time to stop and grab a coffee and breakfast from your favourite little cafe near your office, so you’d have to contend with a stale granola bar that you were hoping was still buried in your desk behind some notebooks and a coffee from the communal kitchen.

“You’re late,” your assistant whispered as you walked in.

“I know, I know.”

“There’s someone in your office.”

“What? Who?” You were certain you didn’t have any meetings until at least 11am, you glanced towards your office where you could make out the shape of someone sitting in front of your desk.

“Congressman Barnes, he’s even more handsome since the last time he came by.”

“Aren’t you married, Dorris?” You smirked, she’d been nursing a crush on him since he’d last stopped by your office.

“Barry doesn’t need to know,” Dorris waved her hand dismissively, smirking as she answered her phone.

While it wasn’t uncommon to find someone waiting for you in your office most mornings, most visitors didn’t come bearing a steaming hot cup of coffee, “You join a new team and you’ve given up on the suits? You’ll break Giuseppe’s heart.”

“He’ll live, I’m sure you’ve referred other senators to his tailoring and I’m pretty sure you get a kick back on each suit he makes,” the man chuckled as he watched you walk around your desk and take a seat. “Hi kid.”

“What do you need Barnes?” You lean forward, resting your head on your hands, offering a wry smile, “I doubt you’re here to discuss the finer points of haberdashery?”

“I’m here to offer you a job,” Bucky says, placing your coffee in front of you.

“Last time you offered me a job, you wanted me to help you impeach Valentina de Fontaine,” you eyed Bucky as you took a sip of your coffee. Valentina had been a little too good at covering her tracks for anything solid to actually stick, the hunt for anything incriminating had dragged on for months. “Is this caramel?” you asked, savouring your first mouthful of good coffee.

“Of course,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This time it’s a little less…political. The team needs an assistant, someone to handle the public relations.”

“Really? You were all doing so well,” you smirked. “I saw the Wheaties boxes.”

“Alexei’s idea.”

“The Russian guy?”

“It was his dream,” Bucky shrugs. As he stands he places a file on your desk, “Think about it”

You watched him leave your office before picking up the file, it contained a dossier for every member of the Thunderbolts.

Bucky’s was first, heavily redacted as you’d expected. You knew a little of his past, or at least what he had shared with you while you had helped him with his campaign, but he had kept the details of what had happened while he was under control of Hydra to himself.

John Walker. Former decorated army ranger and Captain America for a short time before the murder of a civilian in a public setting led to his less than honourable discharge.

Yelena Belova. Former Red Room trained assassin with the Black Widow, working as a contract killer for Valentina before the Thunderbolts.

Alexei Shostakov. The Red Guardian, Captain America’s counterpart in Russia. The one behind the Wheaties box…and ‘encouraging’ people in supermarkets to buy them.

Ava Starr. S.H.I.E.L.D operative turned mercenary who could phase through objects due to a constant state of molecular disequilibrium. You made a mental note to look that up later.

And…Bob? You turned Bob’s, Robert Reynolds’s, part of the file over to find that the page in your hand, containing next to no information about the man, was it. There was a picture — he was cute in a boy next door kind of way — and a few sparse details about the man but nothing more.

You quickly closed the file as your office door slammed open, your 11am meeting had finally arrived. Some trust fund baby who wanted you to fix his public image to keep him out of prison. He was charged with several assault counts, all of which he argued were the other person's fault and daddy’s money had brought him two hours of your time.

After his time was up, he had offered you his number like it was some kind of reward. You declined and dialed a familiar contact.

“Barnes? When do you need me to start?”

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Begin Again

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: A psychiatric nurse helps Bucky through a quiet , painful recovery as he faces the trauma Hydra left behind and the abandonment from Steve.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Content Warnings: Mental Illness themes! Pretty angsty ends happy! mentions of: suicide ideation , depression , anxiety , panic attacks , trauma , hydra mentions , medications , therapy , psych facility ; with some little happy/fluff mixed in and at the end!

If I missed anything let me know!

A/N: this one is extremely personal to me in the mental illness and symptoms treatment is showed here! All healing is different so if things seem "wrong" its from my own experience and life experience with these kind of subjects! be safe and love you all bbys!

Requests / Inbox always open!

read my bucky series here! ୨୧ my masterlist

The psychiatric facility wasn’t sterile , wasn’t cold or starkly white or echoing with metallic clangs like Bucky had feared it would be. It was just… quiet. A kind of quiet that made you realize how loud your head had been.

The room was silent except for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the now occasional clink of a chess piece being moved across the board. 

The floor-to-ceiling windows on the tall walls let in the late afternoon sun that painted long shadows across the linoleum tiles. 

He was the new resident here because he’d finally pushed all pride and self pity aside and asked for help. 

Sam had been nudging him, giving hints or cues , gently but persistently never commanding or telling him what to do flat out. 

“You don’t have to white-knuckle brave it through the pain,  Buck ” 

The last thing Bucky wanted to do was seem weak and listen to Sam but he didn’t know what else he could do and make it out , he was his mind and body's end. 

So he was here  , now.

The room or small apartment he was given was completely plain. It had a metal framed bed , a corner desk , a bright window with thick glass and in front of the couch sat a small TV.

He leaned his head back against the back of the couch as he sighed closing his burning eyes.

“You play?” came a small voice from the doorway to his room. The voice was warm , friendly , but not overly cheerful. 

Just enough to say: I see you and am still moving forward to engage with you.

Bucks eyes cracked open as he looked up.

 You stepped into his room holding a paper cup with his medication and a small bottle of water on hand and a folded chess board tucked into your elbow in the other.

“I used to ,” he croaked his voice dry and hoarse from disuse , he sat up slowly aching.

You smiled softly and set the meds down on the small table in front of him and beside that the chessboard. 

“That’s a yes.”

He didn’t answer you again , just studied your figure standing in front of him. You didn’t look like someone who pitied him or felt his sadness. 

You didn’t look scared of him either or step back like he was something broken. That was new.

“I’m Y/N . I’ll be your personal nurse while you’re staying here. Ill take care and be incharge of all your medication , therapy check-ins , meals but mostly , I’m just here to help however you need.”

He raised an eyebrow at your words reaching for the cup and twisting the cap of the bottle with a crack.

“Its just me and you?” he whispered mid sip.

“Just you and me ,” confirming with a nod then your smile dropped slightly.

“U-unless you want someone else like a man or an older...”

“No ,” Bucky cut you off. “This is fine.”

“Okie doke then , me and you” your smile was more prominent this time.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days passed easy and slow. You brought his needed meds , checked in every couple hours each day , sometimes brought whatever tea you found in the kitchen downstairs , or whatever worn fantasy books you finished yourself thinking he would enjoy it. 

He didn’t talk much during your guys first days together , not at first at least. 

Just nodded when you asked a question or shook his head when you asked if he wanted seconds on his food or an extra pillow.

His blue eyes glow grey like a winter storm ,  unreadable, always tracking exits or loud noises that boomed off the halls. 

He always kept his posture tight , coiled. 

Like he was just waiting to have to fight his way out or something. 

But he always sat perfectly when you checked his vitals and more importantly he continued to show up. That was all that mattered.

You moved your black bishop piece and leaned back with a beaming smile. "Check."

He stared at the board with annoyance , then glanced up at you. “You’re good at this.”

“I’ve got a lot of practice beating people who underestimate me.” You grinned. “It’s a perk of the job , playing the same game over and over.”

Bucky huffed. 

Not a laugh exactly , but maybe its distant relative. 

He dragged his white king , avoiding the trap you set.

You watched him quietly , noting the fine tremor in his fingers as he made his move. 

He hadn’t touched the snacks you brought , just some trail mix and cheese sticks but the fresh chamomile tea was half gone in the mug. 

That was something that made your lips twitch happy.

 When you first read his file before being attached to his case you noticed it had been brutally honest , listed on the file was depression , anxiety , panic discorder , and suicidal ideation. Not at an active risk , but at edge , enough to mention.

You two continued to move the pieces on the chessboard slowly and thoughtfully. You’d always sit right across from him , legs crossed under you , your move when it was your turn on the board was always swift and precise. 

Sometimes , rarely , you guys would talk during the games other times just sat in the others peaceful silence.

One late evening , as the soft rain pattered gently against the window , you made a bold rook move and spoke up. “Did you get rest last night?”

He grunted as he moved his piece next and replied without moving his gaze off the game.

“I don’t ever truly sleep ,not really.”

You nodded, taking a breath at his confession. 

“A lot of people here don’t either. Your mind doesn’t turn off just cause the lights do.”

He looked up at that his eyes began to shine with unshed tears 

“I…I don’t want to hurt myself ,” he whispered voice breaking as your soft eyes met his “I just don’t want to be here anymore with the…the constant pain.”

You didn’t flinch at his words. He expected something different but not what you replied with. 

“That makes sense.”

He squinted , like he was looking for the cracks or mistakes in your words. 

“Most people say they get it , get me.”

You leaned forward slowly , plucking your knight from the wooden board , and held it in your fingers fiddling with it as you talked.

“My biggest pet peeve is people saying , they know exactly how you feel. Cause…nobody knows exactly how you feel. You can possibly understand a circumstance but never truly know how someone feels.”

His eyes flicked to yours , a single tear running down his cheek that he quickly wiped away with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

And this time , the silence between you wasn’t empty.

He looked at you then—really looked and something shifted in his mind at your words. 

And you swear you saw a twitch in his lips as he nodded and moved his next piece to the left.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Another full week passed. 

You noticed little things beside your new routine.

He started combing his scruffy beard. Would sit a little straighter when you walked in the room and said thank you when you brought his meds this morning. 

You never rushed him with anything. Just sat there always while he swallowed the pills with the water you provided and sometimes after another cup of chamomile tea.

But one thing stayed the same he never touched or mentioned: his hair.

It hung in ruley tangled brown waves now hitting past his shoulders , dull and matted in the back and some in the side. 

You never commented on it. Until that evening , he reached up to scratch his scalp and winced.

“Does your head hurt?”

He shrugged more focused on the thread fraying from his sock then your question. 

You hesitated but stepped a bit closer to wear he was sitting on the couch. “Is it okay if I ask you something?”

He stopped picking at the string and nodded.

“Your hair… it’s matted in places. I don’t mean to… I just… I care.” you stuttered carefully.

 “It’s… it gets knotted. I don’t… touch it much.”

You hesitated, then stood slowly. “Can I help?”

He froze. Not like the hardness of a stone statue , but like a meek prey. 

Like the idea of being touched was more dangerous than anything else he could fathom

He looked down at the floor.

“I try,” his voice hoarse. “I try to clean up my beard , my room , but… sometimes, the idea of touching it makes me….makes my skin crawl.”

You sat on the edge of the couch next to him , giving him space but not leaving. 

“What if I helped? No pressure ,  just… help you feel a little better.”

He was quiet. Then , “Hydra didn’t let me cut it. Said it made me easier to grab. To control , to restrain.”

You didn’t rush in with comfort. You let his words breathe and have their own space.

But after a moment he looked at you brows furrowed but eyes screaming for support  “Y-You can help.”

“Okay” You smiled softly and stood slowly. “ I won’t do anything you don’t want. But I think it’d feel better if it was washed and combed out.”

He didn’t answer right away. You waited.

Finally , he nodded , barely moving and rose next to you off the couch.

You guided him to the small ensuite bathroom with a sink and pulled up a chair. 

You back up allowing him to sit where and how he felt safest. As he did you got warm water running filling the bowl , grabbed a clean washcloth , and stayed in his eyeline the whole time.

You grabbed the gentle shampoo from the edge of his shower , a wide-tooth comb from the drawer and warm towels in the cabinet. 

“I’ll talk you through every part okay?” you said softly as you began dampening his hair. 

“If anything feels wrong or unsafe , say stop , and I will immediately. No questions.”

He nodded again , already tense.

“I’m gonna start with just water. You say stop , I stop.”

He didn’t speak. But he didn’t run either.

When the warm water hit his scalp , he twitched. 

You waited. One second. Two. Then when he nodded you gently used your fingers to work through the mess.

You fully wet his hair slowly , then began to gently work in the shampoo. His metal shoulder twitched once when you hit a tangle , but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m right here,” you whispered , voice low and steady.

He swallowed hard , his breathing shaking a little. You could see the war going on behind his eyes and in his mind. The memories crawling out of the dark , but he stayed and fought them off.

You rinsed all shampoo and product from his head and combed through , section by section. 

He flinched a few times when you reached near his temples and throat , but eventually , shockingly to both of you his shoulders dropped and relaxed , his breathing slowly evening out.

It took nearly an hour.

But the whole time you were patient. Soft. You talked during each step , but only when it seemed to help. 

When the tangles accidentally caught on your fingers or comb , you apologized , not because you had to , but because it mattered. 

His jaw clenched with every tug , but he never pulled away or told you to stop.

After you rinsed the very last of the conditioner out , you gently toweled his hair and let him sit as long as he needed.

“You did great….you okay?” you questioned quietly.

He gave a slow shy nod exhaling shakily. “Yeah , thanks , that felt… normal.”

You gave him a small smile. “That’s the point , Bucky. You deserve soft, normal things .”

He turned to you with a strange look—half grief, half hope. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Three days later , after your hourly lunchtime check-in , he sat on the edge of the bed , tugging on some fluffier socks.

“I’ve been thinking…”

You sat beside the meds cart counting his pills but looking up when you heard him speak. “Yeah?”

“My hair. Hydra… they kept it long. Easier to grab onto and easier for them tp use to control me.” He paused. “I want to take that back.”

You felt something in your throat tighten. “I think that’s a really good idea Bucky , I can talk to your doctors tonight , see if I can get clearance for something like that.”

He nodded and looked down almost shameful?

You sat down the pill bottles and crossed the room to him 

“Is there something else Bucky?”

“But ....I want you to do it” His eyes never left the floor.

You froze. “Me?”

“I trust you , will you do it…please?” He met your eyes now and you nodded with a small smile. 

“Of course I will , me and you right?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

That very night , you got clearance from his doctors to use scissors in his room since Bucky wasn’t on any kind of hold that would prevent that. They even gave you professional hair shears and electric clippers.

The following morning as you came in with tea and snacks you told Bucky holding up the clippers. 

He nodded, lips twitching into a small ghost of a smile “Let’s do it.”

The haircut didn’t start with scissors or the buzz of the clippers.

It started with silence.

Bucky sat on the stool near the window , morning light filtering in as birds chirped outside , trees bending in the wind threw faint shadows across the floor. 

He had a soft towel draped around his shoulders ,  hair damp and heavy on his head. You stood behind him , scissors in one hand, your hand on his shoulder hopefully giving him some comfort , watching his face in the mirror.

“Ready?” 

His throat bobbed. “As I’ll ever be , I just need it gone”

With a nod you got to work.

The first cut was quiet , just a clean snip. 

You saw his body twitch but he didn’t speak up. You were deliberate , careful , slow. 

Each section that fell away on the floor lightened the line of his jaw, exposing more of the kind man beneath the weight he’d been dragging behind him for years.

He didn’t say anything , sat still until about halfway through.

“I used to cut Steve’s hair.”

You blinked , surprised by the sudden voice barely loud enough to reach your ears. 

“Yeah?”

Bucky gave a faint smile breathing deep through his nose.

 “He couldn’t reach the back. Tiny arms and all , you know.”

You smiled too, looking at him in the mirror.

“I’d tease him about it. Say I was gonna give him a mohawk or that i would mess up and he has to go bald.”

 Bucky huffed out a breathy almost laugh and then paused. 

“He always trusted me with stuff like that. Small stuff. Big stuff. Didn’t matter.”

You paused your cutting for a second. “Sounds like you were good to him.”

Bucky gave a soft exhale. “I tried to be.”

Another section of dark hair dropped to the floor. 

His profile was sharper now , his eyes more visible ,  not hidden.

“I still dream sometimes ,” he confessed softly. 

“When I can finally close my eyes… It's always about the chair. Not the pain of it, just the part where they put their hands on me. Would push my head down hard and yank my hair. Like I was… theirs.”

You said nothing. You let the weight of it sit.

Snip. Snip.

“After Steve left,” Bucky went on , voice thin, “it felt like I was the last broken piece of something that used to be whole.”

You put the scissors down on the counter stepping in front of him. 

Then slowly knelt , balancing yourself on your ankles.

“You’re not broken Bucky,” you said firmly, meeting his watery eyes . “You’re hurt. But not broken.”

His blue eyes glistened , and you saw the barely-contained grief and hopelessness swell behind them.

“I didn’t know what to do with myself,” now whispering ,  “Not after Wakanda. Not after Steve. I thought… maybe I’d just eventually fade out and let my pain and feelings consume me wholey.”

You reached up , gently combing the shorter strands away from his eyes.

“But you didn’t Bucky …You asked for help and actually went through and got it. That’s what brought you here , to me. That’s not fading or giving up , that’s choosing to survive , to live.”

He shook his head like he couldn’t believe you ,  like the words stung.

And then it cracked.

Not loudly. Not violently.

Just a slow collapse. A dam breaking free.

Tears welled up , then spilled , hot and fast. 

His shoulders trembled, shaking , and he looked at you like he hated the fact that he needed this. 

Hated how fragile he felt. But he didn’t pull away from feeling.

You moved quickly and wrapped your arms around him. Pulled him in as his forehead found your chest , and then he just broke.

 A sound tore out of him , somewhere between a sob and a breath that had been locked away for decades.

You held him like you were gripping something precious , shattered but healing. 

Your hold was steady and warm. Without any fear.

He cried and just felt all his feelings at once.

Eventually when he was ready he lifted his face as you wiped his last few tears with the pad of your thumb. 

He sat up in the stool sniffling and calming.

You got him moved to the bed as you began cleaning up all the long loose hair on the floor and in the sink in silence while he lay , eyes red but filled with a tired calm.

Later when all was clean and you fetched his evening meds in the next room over , you returned with the pills ,  tea and a warm chocolate chip cookie you quickly stole from the nurses lounge.

 You handed him the mug with his pills and the cookie. He took it with quiet hands and a small smile.

“You okay?” 

Bucky stared into the tea for a moment tapping his fingers on the ceramic of the cup. “I feel… different.”

“Different good or different weird?”

He cracked a tired smile looking up. “Both.”

You sat across from him leaning on the edge of the desk. “You don’t have to know how you feel right away.”

He nodded. “I think I thought healing would feel like… strength. But it feels more like falling apart.”

“That’s because falling apart is honest and vulnerable,” you said. “And honesty takes that strength.”

He looked at you again , something warmer in his expression now. A kind of quiet peace that hadn’t been there before. Not since you had met him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Over the next few days , things changed a little more at a time 

Not drastically or dramatically. But noticeably.

He talked more during your chess games. Started asking you questions now like what books you liked , if you had siblings , whether you ever got tired of being everyone’s caretaker.

At that last question you replied, “Sometimes. But I like this work because I get to see people remember who they are and now just what they have been through.”

He looked at you and thought maybe , hopefully that was starting to happen to him.

You found him one afternoon reading one of the older books you’d left , his reading glasses low on his nose , lips moving faintly with the words as he read under his breath aloud. 

He looked up hearing your step , and his face looked a little sheepish.

“I forgot how good some of these stories can be.” 

You smiled. “They’re good at reminding us we’re not alone.”

He hesitated marking his place in the book and sat up straighter. “You think I’m ever gonna feel normal again?”

You sat next to him on the couch , shoulder to shoulder.

“I don’t think there’s a normal. Not really I mean. But I think you’ll find your own version. One that feels real alive and safe.”

He nodded.“I still don’t sleep. But I don’t want to disappear as much.”

You nodded. “That’s something.”

Looking down at his hands he spoke again. “That normal you mentioned , it feels eels like you’re part of it.”

Your heart thudded in your chest.

You didn’t say anything. Just reached over and lightly bumped your shoulder into his.

“Right back at you, Barnes.” 

And with that he laughed , a real true laugh.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

A week later, the doctors started talking about his discharge plans. Medication was decided on dosage and types and was stabilizing. His therapy sessions were productive and doing good for him. He was also sleeping better.

You brought him the news yourself gently in the morning.

“How’s that feel?” you tilted your head after telling him.

His eyes squinted a bit , considered it. 

“Scary. But not the kind of scary that makes me freeze. More like… first-day-of-school kind of scary.”

You laughed , not mockingly but understanding what he meant. “That’s weirdly specific.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Well , I’m old and weirder things have happened.”

His smile dropped as a thought popped in his head and he paused. 

“Will I see you again? After I leave here?”

You blinked up at him.

“Not as a patient,” he clarified quickly. “Just… as a person. Someone I play chess with.”

You gave him a smile that reached your bright eyes noding. “Yeah we can arrange that”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

On his last night in the facility you played one last game of chess together in his room. 

You didn’t talk much durning. Just moved the pieces and watched the board fill with the shape of this quiet blooming friendship.

When he checkmated you , finally—he leaned back with a small triumphant noise.

“Victory,” he looked at the ceiling , closing his eyes.

“I let you win,” you lied letting out a small laugh.

He snorted lifting a finger and pointed at you, eyes still closed. “You absolutely did not.”

You stood shaking your head at his dramatics. “Come on. You’ve got one last dose of meds to take , and then you’re walking out of here a free man.”

He rose slowly with you following. “Not free. Just… moving forward.”

You paused in the doorway turning on your heels and looked at him.

“You’re allowed to call it freedom Bucky , you deserve to.”

He smiled and shocked you by pulling you into him and hugging you. Full of all things he couldn't quite say but wanted you to know. 

And what shocked you even more was your feelings too , you wrapped your arms around him fully , one hand on his back the other on the back of his head and closed your eyes just feeling , him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

One Month Later

The sudden and loud knock on your apartment door was sharp and unexpected.

You stood from your spot you claimed on the couch quickly glancing at the clock seeing it was pretty late for unexpected company. 

 You swung open the door and saw him  , Bucky , he was clean-shaven , short cropped haired styled neatly on top of his head , wearing a soft navy hoodie and dark jeans with a beaming smile.

All you could do was blink at him.

“Hey doll,” 

You blinked again ,  just staring at him  , alive and on your porch.

“You gonna let me in?...I brought chess.”

You looked down and saw the old wooden board under his arm and in the other a single flower still wrapped nicely from the flower cart down the street.

Your face split into a bright smile , cheeks turning a little pink.

“You still suck at defense.”

He grinned at that. “Then I guess I should keep playing until I don’t.”

You stepped aside , holding the door open.

“Then you better come in.”

-end

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

The Truth Is Out » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Reader (soon to be husband and wife) with daughter Jamie and the Avengers

Summary: Bucky finally finds out the truth about why you left HYDRA and he also finds out he’s the father of your 5 year old daughter.

Warnings: mix of Fluff and a little bit of Angst, language, mentions of sex (18+), mentions of HYDRA, flashbacks, crying, kissing, nicknames/pet names

A/N: Italic text is flashbacks.

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

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

“Y/L/N, the Winter Soldier is in the lab and he needs to be stitched up.” Alexander Pierce tells you.

You nodded and got the supplies you needed to stitch up the Winter Soldier. The door was closed and locked the second you walked in the lab, making you furrow your eyebrows and turn your head towards the door. You shrugged it off and got the set supplies up.

“I’m Y/N. I’ll be taking care of your injuries. Can you tell me your name?” You asked him.

The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows and blinked a couple times, trying to remember his own name.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but my nickname is Bucky I think.” He tells you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

You woke up to the feeling of your 5 year old daughter, Jamie, jumping on your bed to wake you up. You smiled and sat up. You pulled her onto your lap and gave her kisses, making her burst into a fit of giggles.

“Let’s get ready for the day. Pick out your outfit.” You say.

“Ok, mommy.” Jamie says.

You gently put her on the floor and she ran to her closet to pick out an outfit while you got dressed. Jamie came running out of the closet and held up the outfit she wants to wear today.

“Go choice, baby girl.” You tell her.

Jamie got dressed and then ran back to her closet to get her favorite sneakers. You helped her put them on and tie them.

“Are you hungry?” You asked her.

Jamie nodded her head yes.

“What would you like for breakfast?” You asked.

“Umm…” She thought for a moment. “Donuts!” She says excitedly.

Donuts are Jamie’s favorite food. She held your hand as the two of you got on the elevator and went to the main floor of the Avengers Compound. You stopped in your tracks when you seen someone from your past talking to Steve. James Buchanan Barnes, the now former Winter Soldier. You haven’t seen him in 5 years. Bucky made eye contact with you. You shook your head to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Y/N, wait a second.” Steve stops you from walking out of the door. “This is my friend Bucky. He’s new here.” Steve introduces you and Bucky.

“We uhh- we know each other.” You say.

“Really? How?” Steve asks.

“She was a nurse for HYDRA.” Bucky tells him, not taking his eyes off of you.

There was an awkward silence and then Jamie yanked on your hand to get your attention.

“Is he your friend, mommy?” Jamie asks curiously, looking up at you.

Bucky looked down at your little girl with wide eyes when he heard her voice.

“Yes.” You answered.

Jamie let go of your hand and walked up to Bucky.

“I’m Jamie. What’s your name?” She asks.

“Bucky.” He tells her, looking down at her.

“Let’s not bother Bucky, Jamie.” You picked her up. “Let’s go get some donuts.” You say.

Bucky watched you walk out of the door with Jamie in your arms. He was in complete shock. He didn’t know what to say.

“You don’t have to fake injuries to see me, Bucky.” You say with a giggle.

“Who says I’m faking?” Bucky says in a flirtatious tone.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as you continued to patch him up.

“Did you just rolled your eyes at me?” He asks.

“So what if I did? What are you going to do about it?” You asked, biting your bottom lip.

“I might have to kiss you for that.” He says, his voice low.

“What’s stopping you, soldier?” You asked with a grin.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you. The kiss took your breath away.

“Bucky?” Steve waves his hand in front of Bucky’s face to snap him out of his thoughts.

“What?” Bucky asks, blinking a couple times.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks. “You zoned out for a couple minutes.” He says.

“Yea, I’m fine.” Bucky says.

You were the only thing on Bucky’s mind for the rest of the day. He had so many questions to ask you. He was happy to see you and happy that you’re alive. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the small footsteps of your daughter, running into the lounge room. Jamie smiles when she seen Bucky. She climbs up onto the couch next to him.

“Hi, Bucky!” She says.

“Hi, Jamie.” Bucky says.

“How do you know my mommy?” She asks curiously.

“We used to work together.” He tells her.

“Where did you guys work?” She asks.

“Your mommy was a nurse and she would patch me up when I got hurt.” He tells her.

Jamie managed to make conversation with Bucky before you walked in the lounge room. You stopped in the doorway when you seen the two of them talking.

“Jamie, it’s almost time for bed. Go to your room and put your pajamas on and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You say.

“Ok, mommy.” Jamie carefully slid off the couch. “Goodnight, Bucky.” She says with a smile.

“Goodnight, Jamie.” Bucky says, smiling back at her.

You and Bucky were left in silence for a few seconds before you walked out of the room to Jamie’s bedroom to see her already in her pajamas and choosing a bedtime story for you to read to her. She found one and handed it to her. You tucked her in before taking a seat in the chair next to her bed and read the story. About halfway through the book, you glanced at Jamie to see her sound asleep. You closed the book and put it on her bookshelf. You gave her a kiss on her forehead and turned on her nightlight before leaving her room and closed the door behind you. You went to your own room and got ready for bed. You laid in bed for a while, lost in your own thoughts before falling asleep. Bucky was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, also lost in his thoughts. He sighed loudly and closed his eyes to try to get some sleep.

The next morning, Bucky walks in the kitchen to see Jamie eating her breakfast at the table. He didn’t want to disturb her so he walked past her and got some coffee. Jamie looked up from her food, smiling widely when she seen Bucky.

“Morning, Bucky!” Jamie says cheerfully.

“Morning, Jamie.” Bucky says, giving her a smile.

“Sit with me!” She says excitedly, pointing at the empty chair next to her.

Bucky hesitated for a second before taking a seat next to her.

“Where’s your mommy?” He asks her.

“In the hall. She got a call and told me to wait here like a big girl.” She tells him and goes back to eating her breakfast.

You froze when you walked back in the dining room when you seen Bucky sitting next to Jamie, not that you have a problem with it. You just didn’t hear Bucky in the kitchen when you were on the phone.

“Can I be done, mommy?” Jamie snaps you out of your frozen state. “Can I play on my iPad please?” She asks politely.

“Yes you can.” You answered.

Jamie carefully got off of the chair and ran to her bedroom to get her iPad. You grabbed her plate and went to the sink to clean it.

“She has your beauty.” Bucky says, putting the coffee cup in the sink.

“What?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“I said, Jamie has your beauty.” He repeats.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, loud enough for him to hear.

You quickly dried your hands and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Bucky alone. You walked down the hall to the conference room and sat down in one of the chairs, slouching in it and exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Are you ok?” Natasha asks you.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You say, lying through your teeth.

Natasha and Wanda could tell you were lying. You know better than to lie around them, especially Wanda.

“You know I can read minds, right?” Wanda reminds you. “So tell us what’s on your mind.” She says.

“Fine.” You gave in. “Can you two keep a secret?” You asked.

They nodded, waiting for you to tell them what’s on your mind.

“Remember when I told everyone that I didn’t know who Jamie’s dad is?” You asked.

They nodded again.

“I lied. I know who her dad is.” You say.

“Who is he?” Natasha asks.

“Steve’s best friend Bucky.” You say quietly, making sure no one else heard you.

They stared at you with shocked looks on their faces.

“Are you sure he’s Jamie’s dad?” Wanda asks.

“Yes.” You answered. “He’s the only guy I’ve slept with.” You say.

Meanwhile, Bucky was lost in his thoughts. He was wondering why you left the kitchen in such a hurry. It’s almost like you’re trying to avoid him. He’s not sure what it is, but whatever it is, he’s going to figure out what it is.

Later that day, Bucky found you in the lounge room watching TV by yourself. He walked in the room and sat down next to you.

“Are you avoiding me?” Bucky asks.

“No.” You lied. “Why would I be avoiding you?” You asked.

“Cause you’re barely talking to me. We used to talk all the time a few years ago, but now we’re like complete strangers.” He says.

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. Bucky just scoffed when you didn’t say anything.

“That explains why you left me.” He says, standing up.

“I didn’t leave you.” You say, standing up too.

“Then explain why you left without telling me.” He says.

You stood there in silence while Bucky was waiting for an answer. He walked out of the room when you didn’t say anything. You followed him down the hall.

“Bucky, wait!” You grabbed his arm. “Let me explain please!” You begged.

“Then explain.” He says.

There was no way of getting out of this conversation so you might as well tell him the truth.

“HYDRA threw me out.” You say.

“What do you mean they threw you out?” Bucky asks.

“They fired me when they found out about our secret relationship.” You tell him.

You remember that day very well…

You were approached by Alexander Pierce and Brock Rumlow. You were too busy working that you didn’t even know that they were behind you.

“Is there any reason why the Winter Soldier isn’t doing as well as on missions and training like he used to?” Pierce asks you.

“I-I don’t know.” You lied. “Could it be the serum?” You asked, pretending like you didn’t know anything.

Brock yanked you up from the chair and turned you around so you were facing Pierce. His hands held your upper arms tightly, holding you in place. Pierce examined your facial expressions. He knew you were lying and he wanted answers. He’ll get those answers out of you one way or another.

“I’m going to ask you again.” He walked closer to you. “Why isn’t the Winter Soldier doing well on his missions?” He asks again.

“I-I don’t know.” You lied again.

Pierce chuckles to himself and smacked you across your face, making whimper in pain and leaving a red mark on your cheek.

“We could’ve avoided the consequences if you had just told me the truth, but it looks like we’re doing this the hard way.” He says.

“I am telling you the truth.” You lied again.

He smacked you again.

“I see your lips moving, but I don’t hear you telling the truth.” He says.

It took everything in you to not say anything about your secret relationship with the Winter Soldier, but you knew if you didn’t say anything soon, you’d be beaten bloody or possibly dead.

“We’re together!” You blurted out, unable to take the beating anymore. “We’re in a relationship!” You tell him.

“Get rid of her.” Pierce says to Rumlow.

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your hands over your face as you came back to reality. Your eyes started to water. Bucky didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t sure if he should be mad at you or hug you. For the sake of starting an argument, he walked away to clear his mind. You let out a shaky breath and a couple tears rolled down your cheeks.

Over the next couple weeks, Bucky has been avoiding you. Also, the Avengers have been gossiping about you and Bucky amongst each other without the two of you knowing. Everyone goes quiet when the two of you walk in a room.

“Are we not going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Tony says.

“What elephant?” Steve asks.

“Y/N and Barnes.” Clint says.

“Also, her daughter looks like him.” Sam says.

Wanda and Natasha sat in silence while the guys talked. They knew the truth about Bucky being Jamie’s biological dad, but Bucky and everyone else didn’t.

“Hey guy!” Everyone went quiet when you walked in the room. “What’re you guys talking about?” You asked.

“You and Barnes.” Tony says.

“What about me and Bucky?” You asked with wide eyes.

“You and him look very friendly and I mean very friendly.” He says with a smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say a little too fast.

“You sure?” He asks.

You opened your mouth and then closed it when Bucky walked in the room.

“Why’s it so quiet in here?” Bucky asks, looking around the room at everyone.

“No reason.” You said a little too fast, making him furrow his eyebrows.

“We’re going to leave the two of you alone.” Steve says.

Everyone left the room, leaving you and Bucky alone. The awkward silence faded away when Jamie ran in the room, stopping in front of you.

“I finished my lunch, mommy. Can I watch cartoons please?” Jamie asks politely.

“Yes you can.” You say with a smile.

Jamie smiled and ran out of the room, leaving you and Bucky along once again. Awkward silence filled the room again. Bucky couldn’t take any more of the awkward silence so he just left the room. He wasn’t too far down the hall from the conference room when his enhanced hearing picked up what the Avengers were talking about.

“Is it a possibility that Barnes could be Jamie’s dad?” Natasha asks, pretending like you didn’t tell her and Wanda about it earlier.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Steve answers.

“There’s no “I don’t know” or “Maybe” about it. Jamie clearly looks a like Bucky.” Sam says.

“Maybe Y/N isn’t ready to tell him or she doesn’t know how to tell him.” Wanda says.

“He has a right to know if Jamie is his daughter.” Clint says.

Bucky was frozen in place and his eyes went wide. He didn’t know what to think. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. The only thing on his mind is that he’s a dad. He’s happy about it, but he’s pissed that you never told him. Bucky opened his eyes and immediately went back to the room you’re in. You looked up from your phone when you heard Bucky’s footsteps enter the room.

“I’ve known you for a long time, but I didn’t know you were this fucking selfish.” Bucky says.

“One, I’m not selfish.” You stood up from the chair you were sitting on. “And two, I’m a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them.” You say.

You tried to walk past him, but Bucky grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You looked up at him. His eyes were filled with anger.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but let go of me!” You say, raising your voice at him.

“You’re not leaving this room until I get answers.” He lets go of your arm. “Sit.” He says, pointing at the chair.

You stared at him for a few seconds before sitting down. He sat down on the chair in front of me.

“How old is Jamie?” Bucky asks.

“5.” You answered.

Bucky took a moment to do the math in his head. 5 years ago, you and Bucky had a sexual encounter when he was the Winter Soldier.

“Was this when I- he took your virginity?” He asks, referring to the Winter Soldier.

“Yes.” You say quietly, loud enough for him to hear.

“When did you find out you were pregnant?” He asks.

“Shortly after the Avengers took me in.” You say.

That’s enough for Bucky to know that he’s Jamie’s biological father. He slouches back in the chair and rubs his hands over his face.

“So it’s true.” He sighs. “I’m Jamie’s dad.” Bucky says, looking you in the eye.

“How- How did you find that out?” You asked with wide eyes.

“Did you forget that I have enhanced hearing?” He asks sarcastically. “I heard the Avengers talking about me possibly being Jamie’s biological father.” He tells you. “Is it true or not? Am I Jamie’s biological father?” He asks.

“Yes.” You answered.

Bucky scoffs and stood up, walking towards the door, making your eyes go wide.

“Wait!” You quickly jumped up from the chair. “What are you going?” You asked, following him.

“To tell my daughter that I’m her dad.” He says.

“Wait, please!” You pleaded.

“She has a right to know that I’m her dad, Y/N.” He says.

“I know. Just let me talk to her first.” You say, trying to reason with him.

“Fine, but I’m in the room.” He says.

You nodded in agreement. You and Bucky went to the lounge room where Jamie was watching cartoons.

“Jamie, sweetie?” You say.

“Yes, mommy?” Jamie asks, looking at you.

“Mommy has something important to tell you.” You say.

You shut the TV off and sat down on the couch next to her. Jamie turned around so you had her full attention.

“Remember that one time you asked me who your daddy is?” You asked.

Jamie nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“Well umm… I know who he is.” You say.

“Who is he?” She asked curiously.

You looked at Bucky and back to Jamie before answering.

“Bucky is your daddy.” You tell her.

Jamie stared at you for a moment before sliding off of the couch and walked up to Bucky, stopping in front of him and stared up at him.

“You’re my daddy?” Jamie asks him.

Bucky looked from Jamie to you. You nodded, giving him the ok before crouching down to her height.

“Yes I am.” Bucky confirms with a smile.

She wrapped her little arms around his neck, giving him a hug. Bucky immediately hugged her back. A smile grew on your face as you continued to watch the cute father daughter scene happening in front of you.

“I’ll give you two time to get to know each other.” You say, standing up and walking out of the room.

You decided it was a good idea for them to have some father daughter time. You went straight to your bedroom. As soon as you closed your bedroom door, you broke down in tears. You felt horrible for not telling Bucky and Jamie that they’re father and daughter sooner.

After your little moment, you used work to distract yourself from feeling like a horrible person. You were about halfway through what you were working on when you heard giggling coming from the hall and coming into the conference room where you are. You looked up from your work to see Jamie and Bucky.

“Mommy!” Jamie says excitedly.

“There’s my baby girl!” You cooed as she climbed onto your lap. “Did you have fun with Bucky- daddy?” You asked, correcting yourself.

“So much fun!” She nodded. “We went to the park and got ice cream and oh! We fed the duckies!” She tells you.

“That sounds great sweetie. I’m happy you two had fun.” You say, looking from her to Bucky.

Jamie yawned and laid her head against your shoulder.

“You tired, munchkin?” Bucky asks her.

Jamie nodded and held her arms out towards him, wanting her daddy to pick her up. Bucky carefully picked her up from your lap and carried her to her bedroom with you following behind them without him knowing. You watched from the doorway as he tucked her into bed and read her a bedtime story. You smiled to yourself, seeing how amazing he is with her. Jamie fell asleep halfway through the story. Bucky put the book on her nightstand and gave her a kiss on her forehead. He turned around, rolling his eyes when he seen you standing in the doorway. You took a couple steps back so he could walk out and close the door behind him.

“Now you don’t trust me alone with my own daughter.” Bucky says with a scoff.

“That’s not the reason why I was watching you, Bucky.” You say.

“What’s the reason?” He asks. “You were standing in the doorway and watching me like I was going to take Jamie and leave.” He says.

You scoffed and shook your head before walking away. Bucky tilted his head back and groaned before walking towards you and grabbing your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you of that.” He apologizes. “It’s just-” He sighs. “I have a lot to make up for from the past 5 years with Jamie and you.” He says.

“You have nothing to make up to with me. You should be making it up to Jamie.” You say.

“Yes I do.” He says.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. You and Bucky were looking in each other’s eyes. Bucky’s right hand cupped your cheek, caressing it. He slowly leaned in, kissing you passionately. You forgot how soft his lips are. Your hands grasped his shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands. Bucky put his vibranium hand on your waist and carefully backed you up towards the wall. You quickly melted into his touch.

“Mhmm, sorry.” Bucky says breathlessly, pulling away from your lips.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked breathlessly.

You tugged on his shirt, pulling back in for a kiss. Your lips moved in sync with his just like that use to. Your mind began to wander to the last time you and him kissed. You and Bucky were so lost in the kiss that you two almost forgot your daughter was sleeping in a bedroom in the same hallway as you two.

“Wait, stop…” You pulled away from his lips, leaving both of you breathless. “We- We should take this slower.” You say.

“You’re right. We should.” Bucky says.

You and Bucky gazed in each other’s eyes for a moment before going to your own bedrooms.

“One more thing…” You turned around and so did Bucky. “Jamie has your last name and her middle name is Rebecca. I thought you should know that.” You tell him.

“You- You named her after me and my sister?” Bucky asks, getting a little emotional.

“Yes. I thought you deserved it.” You say with a smile.

Bucky approached you and hugged you tightly. You hugged him back.

“Thank you.” He says in almost a whisper.

“You’re welcome.” You say softly.

You two separated and went to your own rooms. For once in your life, you felt like a weight has been lifted and you also felt relieved. Bucky on the other hand, is beyond grateful for his daughter and you. He does wish that he found out about Jamie sooner, but he’s glad that he knows about her now. He hopes that you and him can move forward for the sake of yours and his daughter.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[webslinger-holland]

I enjoyed reading what it'd be like if you took a bullet for them, but now I need to see the other prompt. the one were you are getting ready for a date and its not with them

Prompt: The Thunderbolts watch you get ready for a date that's not with them

Warning: angst, heartbreak, emotional distress, unrequited love, some swearing, pining after someone, john is an asshole, sad boy hour here

Yelena: Eating dinner in the kitchen alone, Yelena picks at the salad in front of her. She heard the sound of your heels clicking as you came into the room, looking for something you'd lost and that something was probably your phone.

Only you didn't look like you normally did. Now, you were dressed to impress with a slick black dress on. Your hair styled to your liking, your earrings jingled in the light, and your lipstick applied perfectly. She watched you silently, knowing that you were about to head out for your date.

"So..." Yelena dragged out, staring down at her food. "Heard you're going out on a date."

"Yeah," you reply half-heartedly. You found your phone on the couch and checked it for notifications. "Hard to believe, right?"

"Who is the guy?" Yelena wondered and was desperately trying to sound like she didn't care.

You texted something, not really listening to the question at first which only pained her more. You quickly pocketed the phone into your bag and looked at her with a brief smile.

"Just an old friend," you shrugged it off like it was nothing.

Yelena nodded slowly; her gaze fixed on her salad like it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. Her fork scraped across the plate, but she hadn't taken a bite in minutes. She didn't ask for more details. Didn't push. She couldn't

"That's... cool," Yelena murmured and missed the tight lipped smile you sent back.

"Yeah..." you awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Don't be out too late," Yelena muttered, not looking up. "It's dangerous out there."

It was the closest she could get to please don't go. You promised that you wouldn't and announced that it was time to leave. You waved goodbye without knowing the pained effect you left behind.

Bucky: You were finishing up your eyeliner, leaning in close to the mirror with the kind of focus only winged liner demanded. Your hair was done, perfume already misted, nerves fluttering somewhere beneath your ribcage. You hadn't even put on your dress yet; it was laid out on your bed and you wore a robe instead.

There was a soft knock at your door, followed by the soft creak of the door opening.

“Hey, you left your phone downstairs—” Bucky’s voice cut off as he stepped into view and saw you.

Your reflection caught his eyes before anything else. The way the soft light caught your skin. The way your hair fell over your shoulders. The quiet concentration on your face as you leaned into the mirror, fixing the final details. He glanced over to see the nice dress laid out on the bed.

He froze. You were going on a date.

You glanced back. “Oh—hey, Buck. Sorry. Didn’t realize I left it.”

He didn’t answer right away, just absentmindedly fiddled with a little trinket nearby. You turned fully to face him, tugging the strings of your robe a little tighter for security.

“You're uh…” His voice failed him. He blinked once, then twice. “You're going out…”

"Yeah," you said just a little too quickly. "I kinda have a date."

His metal hand twitched involuntarily, and you heard the sudden crack of glass shattering. Your perfume bottle—smashed on the floor, glass and lilac-scented oil spreading out like a wound.

“Oh,” you said, startled. “That was...my favorite perfume.”

“I’m—shit.” Bucky bent down too fast, running his flesh hand through his hair while his metal fingers hovered above the shards like they were something dangerous. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t even thinking. I just...damn it.”

You crouched beside him, gently resting your hand on his wrist to still him. “It’s okay. It was just a bottle.”

He quickly rose to his feet again, feeling suddenly very overwhelmed. You mirrored his actions and observed him carefully.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Bucky struggled to explain himself. “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have come in. I just—”

“You were just returning my phone,” you said gently. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky muttered. His metal hand clenched and unclenched at his side. “I shouldn’t feel this way."

That silenced you.

He ran a hand down his face, avoiding your gaze. “You look incredible. And you’re going out with someone else, which is great. And I’m standing here like some idiot who can’t even keep his shit together long enough to hand over a phone without breaking something.”

You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come.

“I’m happy for you,” Bucky said finally. “Really. Just… go before I say something that ruins this for you too.”

Then Bucky turned and walked out—shoulders stiff, heart heavier than vibranium—leaving you standing in front of the broken pieces of something that wasn’t just glass.

John: It felt like you'd spend ages trying to fix your hair in the mirror, wanting it to look just right. You look down at your reflection somewhat satisfied, but still feeling nervous about the fact that you were going on your first date in years.

You go to adjust the bracelets on your wrists. Suddenly, John walks past your open door and then abruptly backs up a step. He leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, and a sharp smirk playing at his lips.

"Well, look at you." John drawls. His eyes shamelessly go down the length of your body. "Didn't know we were playing dress-up today."

You roll your eyes, turning back to the mirror. "I have a date tonight."

"Oh. A date," John repeats sarcastically. "How quaint."

You ignore the jab, reaching for your earrings on the dresser. He's desperate for your attention so he pushes himself further.

"Finally decided to go out with the pizza delivery guy?" John jokes and then smiles at it.

You force a tight smile, ignoring his comment and turning to grab your lipstick next. "You don't have to be like this."

"Like what?" He steps into your room now, his grin turning sharp. "Honest?"

"No. Rude." You face him fully now. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

"Well maybe you should have." John tries to fight back, "Because that dress? It's not doing you any favors."

His words felt like a slap to the face. Your own face fell.

A wave of doubt rushed over your entire demeanor and you feel yourself start to rethink everything. You lower your gaze to stare down at your dress, genuinely wondering if it looked as horrible as he claimed.

"I didn't think—" you wanted to say that it didn't look bad on you, but you must have been wrong. Maybe it did look bad.

For a brief second, John's eyes flicker when he sees your reaction— some flicker of regret, but it's gone just as fast. He doubles down.

"Just trying to save you the embarrassment. I mean, come on— you're not exactly the type people fall over themselves for." John throws again. His words hurt more than he could imagine.

Your throat tightens. The heat builds behind your eyes before you can stop it. You turn away, fast, pretending to check your earrings. You try to act like it didn’t get to you, but it did.

He scoffs under his breath. “Whatever. Go enjoy your big romantic night. Just don’t come crying when he ghosts you tomorrow.”

He walks out without looking back.

You’re left staring at your reflection, makeup perfect, dress flawless—and eyes wet.

Ava: A mess of colorful dresses littered your bedroom floor in preparation for your upcoming date. You were struggling to decide which one to pick, but eventually settled on a soft grey dress you hadn't worn in ages.

You were standing near the mirror, fixing your dark eyeshadow that complimented the entire look. In the doorway, Ava came to stand just in the entrance. She leaned against the doorframe.

Ava doesn’t say anything at first. You don’t even realize she’s watching until you catch her in the corner of your eye She’s still. Too still.

"Does this look okay?" You wonder.

“Yeah. You look… nice,” Ava finally says, but her tone is stiff and distant. Like she’s been blindsided.

“Thanks. I've got a date.” You explained to her. You finished up the final touches of your eyeshadow.

She nods once. Then again only a little slower. “Yeah. Right. I figured.”

"I'm a little nervous," you tried to laugh it off, but your nerves were getting the best of you. You diverted your gaze for the sake of saving the awkwardness between you. "Haven't been on a date in ages."

"I didn't take you for the dating type," Ava confessed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm not," you shake your head. You glance up at her with a hint of longing behind your eyes. "Just... thought to try something different."

"I should go," Ava says quickly and steps back. She can't bring herself to look at you. "Have a good time."

You see her swallow hard, then vanish mid-step, her particles shifting like static. She doesn’t want you to see the look on her face. She won’t say it, but she’s not okay.

Bob: It's the beginning of the evening, but the sun has already set over the line of the horizon. The city lights twinkle like a million stars. The night was young and full of opportunity.

Now, Bob is sitting on the couch quietly reading to himself. He turns the page to continue only to see you come into the room fully dressed looking like you're going out. He looks up once, then back down at his book, and then back up to you like he can't help himself.

You stand in front of a mirror placed near the door, checking to make sure you looked presentable. Your soft yellow dress hugged you almost too much and you were showing more skin than you were often comfortable with. But you thought you looked like.

You smoothed your hands over yourself and turned to address him. You held your hands out expectantly.

"What do you think?" You asked, slightly nervous.

He innocently looks up again. His eyes trail slowly from your shoes to your eyes, full of that golden worshipful glow. He couldn't even begin to describe how you looked even if he tried to.

“You look…” He swallows, looks down at his book as if he's uninterested. He clears his throat like it's nothing. “Fine.”

"Thanks," you reply, only it wasn't exactly what you were looking for. You look back at yourself in the mirror, almost second guessing yourself now.

Bob stole another glance. “You’re… seeing someone?”

You nod, soft. “Just a date. Nothing serious.”

"Hmm," Bob hums. You peer at him through the reflection of the mirror.

"You okay?" You wonder.

He peers up at you and nods gently; his hair tumbling to cover his eyes just slightly.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Bob claimed.

You proceed to grab your purse and head in the direction of the door, oblivious to the fact that his eyes were trailing after you. You spin around one last time, feeling a little more hopeful and excited now.

You beam. “Wish me luck?”

He nods. And you leave.

Stuck in the silence, Bob lets the book slide off his lap. He doesn’t move to pick it up. He sits in his own silence for the longest time, falling into his thoughts mindlessly.

The weight of everything he never said is so loud in the silence. The feeling of regret settles into him. And he's left feeling nothing but loneliness and emptiness.

[lessersole]

Bridging Boroughs

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Bartender!Reader with a past. Platonic!Matt Murdock

Summary: You and Matt come up with a plan to take on Kingpin politically.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for DD:BA episode 8, (but works if you're not watching). Probably misunderstandings of the US political system.

------------

Matt groans as he wakes up. He feels like he got punched in the chest by a truck.

He tries to take in his surroundings - it’s hard over the beeping of the machines, but under the stillness of night he realises someone is sitting beside his hospital bed.

“Heather?” He croaks.

“Nope,” comes the unapologetic answer. He recognises that voice, but hasn’t heard it in a while. Matt frowns - is he wrong?

The pressure of booted feet landing on his bed, one ankle crossing over the other as his guest casually stretches out her legs gives him a better idea who his visitor is. He tries another name.

“You got it," you confirm. Matt can hear the mirthless smile in your voice. “Glad to hear we’re not complete strangers, even if I never would have guessed you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at the Kingpin.”

“I wasn’t-” Matt’s protestations are cut off by a tightness in his chest and he coughs, wincing at the pain, “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”

Your feet leave the bed as you press a plastic cup of water against the back of his hand. Matt takes it as silently as it's offered, a few sips doing little to soothe the roughness of his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reluctantly letting you take the glass from him when the wires tangled around him stop him reaching the sidetable himself.

“Well, that’s rude.” Your tone is more amused than offended.

“I mean it. I haven’t seen you since-” his voice dies in his throat.

“Since the funeral.” You finish for him, voice softer, “But I keep up to date. You’re all over the news. Thought it would be polite to visit an old friend in hospital.”

“We’re barely friends,” there’s a bitterness to Matt’s tone, more from regret than animosity. It’s been a long time since you were close, “And I’m pretty sure visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

“I make my own hours, you know that. And I said old friend.” You pause, continuing when his only objection is an irritated sigh. “Plus I saw a mutual acquaintance of ours recently - he was worried about you.”

Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” your eyes scan over his damaged body, the tubes and machines keeping him alive, “And honestly, when Frank Castle is concerned about your mental health, something’s gotta be pretty wrong.”

“So you’re still in touch with Frank. And you think I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“I drop in on him now and then, make sure he’s not dead. I don’t charge in on him like a madman with a deathwish.”

Matt grimaces.

“So come on, Matt. I’ve seen the other news about you too. The other you. What’s going on?”

In the absence of anyone else to talk to who won’t judge him, Matt reluctantly opens up.

Time passes, and as the sun threatens to break over the horizon, you both sink into thoughtful silence.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need to meet Fisk on his level?” You ask.

“I’d never do what he does,” Matt spits emphatically, “That’s the difference between us-”

“That was the difference between you. The difference now is that he’s the one who’s gone ‘legit’. Officially, at least.”

Matt opens his mouth to object, but you talk over him. “You not changing the city as a lawyer is nothing new. I thought you'd resigned yourself to that after - after Foggy. But Fisk isn’t fighting in the dark any more; you’ve lost your advantage.”

“So what, are you saying I should run for Mayor?”

“God, no. But we need to look in that direction. Maybe someone else, someone who’s pro-enhanced p-”

“Wait,” Matt bolts upright, ignoring the pain that slices through him, “There is someone. We could at least ask for help, while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now?”

Matt grins, “How familiar are you with Brooklyn?”

—

Getting inside the Congressman’s office is easy for you, even in broad daylight. Plenty of people filing in and about, milling around - and you know how to go unnoticed. The bustling space is a much more casual, open place than you'd expected.

Getting access to him directly is more of a challenge.

After holding a store room door open for a smiling volunteer, you duck inside. Spotting a pile of discarded t-shirts from the recent campaign, you grab one and quickly swap it for your own plain top, before adding the casual blazer you'd worn to look appropriately professional on top of it. No need to be too obvious.

You'd spied his private office on your first loop around the floor, and now you make your way indirectly towards it. One well-placed slippery flyer in the path of a rushing intern later, and the woman stationed at the desk outside his door is running to the bathroom to try and soak the hot coffee out of her shirt.

Smiling benignly, you slip unseen into the Congressman’s office. The man you're looking for has his back to the door, standing behind a desk leafing through a file.

You have a moment to admire his broad back, the white shirt straining over strong shoulders, tapering down where it tucks into dark pants over narrow hips.

Forcing your eyes away from where they’ve drifted down, you've barely taken two steps into the room before he speaks.

“Are you one of those people who breaks in to try and sell me extra security?”

You stop abruptly - he hasn’t even turned around.

“No,” you answer casually, continuing to approach, “But maybe I should be, that sounds like a fun job. Do you think it pays well?”

“No idea,” finally Congressman Barnes turns to face you, dropping his papers onto the desk between you.

You let your gaze linger over his torso. He must get those shirts custom made, you think, so they're snug over his flat stomach without bursting the buttons over his chest.

Barnes crosses his arms, and the motion reminds you to look at his face, where he’s quirking an eyebrow at you, unflustered and unamused.

“So what are you doing breaking into my office?”

“Breaking in?” You try to sound offended, “I just wanted to meet the person I’ve been door knocking for-”

“You’re not one of the volunteers,” he interrupts cooly, “And you’re definitely not on the payroll. So now you need to explain why you’re lying as well as breaking in.”

“What, you know every single person who works for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat while you recalculate your approach, then take the last few steps towards him, smiling broadly and holding out your hand, “I just wanted to say hi, have a quick chat.”

Instead of answering or shaking your hand, Barnes narrows his eyes suspiciously at you.

“And there was no breaking anything, so it wasn’t breaking in,” you grumble, lowering your hand.

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

“Okay,” you sigh, presumptuously dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk, “I’ve come to ask what you’re planning to do about Mayor Fisk.”

Bucky’s neutral facade cracks in surprise. “What I'm planning to do about Mayor Fisk?” he repeats.

“His crusade against ‘vigilantes’,” you put air quotes around the loaded term, “His so-called taskforce are breaking every law they come up against to wipe out anyone they decide is suspicious, including everyone with enhanced abilities they can get their hands on. You were elected on a platform of protecting those same people, right? You can’t just do nothing.”

“I ran on more than one issue,” Bucky says, sitting down opposite you, “And Mayor Fisk was also elected by the people - and even if it wasn’t a key part of his campaign, as I understand it his opposition to vigilantes wasn’t exactly a secret.”

“That’s no excuse to just roll over and let him do what he wants!”

Bucky frowns. “No, it’s not,” he muses, “But so far his taskforce have restricted themselves to Manhattan. Unless they cross into Brooklyn, there’s not much I can do about it.”

You're visibly unimpressed at his answer, crossing your arms and glaring at him in place of a response.

After a moment of thought, Bucky’s gaze intensifies, and he leans towards you across the desk, “Do you have a - vested interest - in this?”

Fighting to keep your heart rate steady, you answer him honestly, “I’m here on behalf of a friend. And everyone else who feels hopeless about what the Kingpin is doing to our city. Everyone else who wants to fix it.”

Bucky studies you silently. Your answer was true - and you have no intention of sharing more than you need to about your history, or those nights when it bleeds into your present. Even Fisk never knew about you, and with Karen in California, Matt and Frank are the only people left in the city who have any idea what you've done, and neither of them know you've not given it up as thoroughly as you suggest.

"This friend," Bucky starts, clearly not believing you, "they didn't want to speak to me themselves?"

"They're in hospital." Your answer is more vehement than you intended, and you hope you've not given too much away.

Barnes sits back with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll talk to my team about it. We’ve been considering putting out a statement; a citizen complaint is a good enough reason to push that through. And I’ll look into what else we can do. Encourage an investigation into the taskforce, or some kind of oversight requirements. Legal protections for enhanced people with no record of vigilantism.”

It’s less than you wanted, but more than you'd hoped for from a politician. “Sounds like an okay start,” you allow.

An amused smile flickers across Bucky’s face as he stands up, dismissing you. You mirror him.

“Are you a Brooklyn resident?” He asks.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a no.”

“Compassion doesn’t stop at the East River,” you retort, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I agree. And I give you my word that I’ll do everything I can to rein Fisk in and keep innocent people safe, inside my jurisdiction and out.” He holds his hand out to you.

“Good,” you answer begrudgingly, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he squeezes back, “And your friend - if it’s dangerous for them in Manhattan, there’s a safe place for them this side of the river. Always. If Fisk’s taskforce follows - well, there might be more I can do.”

“Good to know. And if you ever want to update me on your progress - save me trekking all the way out here again - I work at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” You give him the name as you turn to leave. “If you make good on your promise, I might even buy you a drink.”

Bucky smiles. It’s an appealing offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wait,” he nods to your shirt, where Vote Barnes for the 9th District is emblazoned across your chest, “Did you pay for that?”

Rolling your eyes, you slip your jacket from your shoulders, Bucky’s eyes following the smooth motion, “I was going to give it back,” you lie.

“Don’t.” he stops you, a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, “You can keep it. Looks good on you.”

You smile languidly as you pull the jacket back on.

“Thanks, Congressman,” you reach for the door handle, adding over your shoulder, “I’ve been looking for something to wear in bed.”

Once his door has swung shut behind you Bucky lets out a long breath, rubbing his right hand over his face as he sinks into his chair.

He could have handled that more professionally, but something in your fearless attitude and sly smile had intrigued him - and the reason for your questionable visit was smart, principled - and ballsy.

He’ll definitely be stopping by that bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

------------

Part two

[magicalqueennightmare]

Secret

Bucky Barnes x Reader

When you're thrown into your greatest shame Bucky finds out a secret you've hidden from him

Mention of sex, childbirth

How in the hell had you ended up here? You were stuck in New York with this damn team. Yelena Belova, Ava Starr, Alexei Shostakov, John Walker of all people…oh yeah and Bucky. You had taken a contract, one last damn contract. You needed it to get anyone off your back, you had to… you didn’t know it was a set up. You didn’t know it was someone trying to take you all out. 

You were now facing your deepest shames, thanks to the void. You’d seen Yelena’s first kill, John’s wife leaving him, Ava’s childhood and you were terrified of what you may face next.

When you walked into a room and it had the damn amber lighting of that hotel room you’d been staying in when Bucky had come to talk to you, you felt your heart drop. No no no no. Not here. Not now. Not in front of the damn team. You stepped closer to John and Alexei, hoping their height could somehow hide you from Bucky. “This is your greatest shame?” he asked as the scene started playing. You felt your face warm as everyone watched Bucky pick you up and carry you across to the bed in the hotel room like he’d done those years before. 

“It’s not what you think” you whispered, then you looked at Yelena, tears in your eyes “I’ve got to get out of here. Now” John raised an eyebrow “Honey, what’s worse than us watching you and Bucky have sex?” 

As if his question spurred the room to shift, the amber lighting changed to the bright overheads of the hospital room you’d used in France. Your head dropped, Bucky’s breath hitching as everyone watched you give birth to your daughter. 

“You have a baby?” John asked and you slowly raised your eyes, them landing on Bucky as you answered John “Yes, she’s almost two” Bucky’s eyes were wide. His breathing was coming in ragged breaths. “Is she…she’s mine” he whispered and you nodded “That’s why us having sex was here. Me keeping her hidden away, but I had no choice Bucky. She was born with the serum in her veins… I couldn’t let anything happen to her” 

He nodded slowly. “I can’t deal with this right now. We have a city to save. We’ve got to figure a way out of this” you nodded as he led the way out of the room. Guess he’d rather face Hydra flashbacks than look at the child you’d never let him know. 

You stood between Ava and Yelena as Valentina introduced all of you to the world as the “New Avengers” Yelena nodded to you then leaned up to whisper in Valentina’s ear “We own you and we are cashing in, now”

You looked across the stage to Bucky and his eyes were already glued to you. You knew he had questions. He’d never thought he’d have kids. Now here he was face to face with you after years apart and knowing you’d given birth to his daughter and had hidden her away. You hadn’t had a choice. Sam and Joaquin had helped you get in contact with doctors who weren’t affiliated with any governments. They didn’t answer to them. When Rebecca was born you’d gotten a series of tests done, that and the fact that she’d broken two of your ribs from the inside by barely grazing her foot across them had told you that she had the serum in her veins. It had carried over from him. You couldn’t let her fall into the wrong hands and you didn’t have the means to protect her.

You fidgeted with your hands until Valentina dismissed all of you. You walked over to Bucky, stepping in his path before he could walk away from you “Can we talk?” his eyes met yours “Oh, you want to talk now?” you swallowed hard, biting back tears. “Bucky, please. I love you, you know that. I loved you when we made her, I never stopped loving you but I had to protect her”

He nodded after a moment, tears forming in his eyes “What’s her name?” “Rebecca” you whispered and he smiled sadly “After my sister?” you nodded “Yes” he took a step towards you “Can I just hold you for a minute? I’ve missed you so damn much” you nodded and damn near threw yourself into his arms. You needed him. You had never wanted to keep Rebecca away from her father. You just wanted her safe.

He held you against his chest “I love you sweetheart, so damn much. We’ll figure something out. We’ll protect her, I promise you but I want you with me. I want our baby girl” you nodded “Ok, I just need her safe Bucky. I’ve got to have her safe. She is the most important thing on the fact of the earth” “I know doll, I know”

Yelena and Bucky had cornered Valentina, they threatened her into protecting Rebecca. She had to put a shield over her. With Sam having the mantle of Captain America, the team behind you… you still weren’t completely sure footed but you wanted Bucky to meet her.

Yelena had gone with you to pick her up from Louisiana. You’d left her in care of Sam’s sister, Sarah. When the two of you pulled into the parking garage under the tower Yelena looked back where Rebecca was asleep in her car seat “She is beautiful” you laughed “She’s very strong too”

She nodded “Are you ready for Bucky to meet her?” you nodded “I feel horrible she’s almost two and he’s just now meeting her” she shook her head “Don’t, you were being a good mother. He understands or he will” you smiled “Thank you Yelena. You’ve become an amazing friend”

She laughed “Don’t thank me yet. Alexei has deemed himself grandfather” your eyes widened “Oh no!” and you started laughing. You climbed out of the car and walked back to unbuckle Rebecca. Her eyes slowly opened, the bright blue hue of them shining even in the low lighting as you picked her up “Hey baby, ready to meet daddy?” She smiled big.

You, her and Yelena headed for the elevator. You knew Bucky was waiting.

___________________

No one was trying to get in Bucky’s way as he paced. He’d been nervous since Yelena called to say you and her were half an hour out. Now that you were headed up? No one was looking at him. The elevator dinged and everyone froze in place as you stepped off. A little girl had her head over on your shoulder, dark curls were all anyone could see at first until she lifted her head.

Bucky’s heart felt like it may leap out of his chest when her eyes landed on him. “Do you want to hold her?” you asked and he looked at her then at you “Can I?” you laughed “Of course, she’s your daughter”

You stepped closer and passed her into his arms. He could feel his hands shaking slightly as her tiny arms wrapped around his neck and he whispered “Hey Rebecca. I’m your daddy. I love you baby girl” and her arms got tighter. He laughed, “Easy sweet girl”

He reached to pull you into his arms too. He heard Yelena tell everyone “Let’s give them some time” but he could have cared less as he held you and Rebecca. “I’m so sorry you had to protect her alone” he whispered and you looked up at him “You’re not mad you lost time with her?” he shook his head “No doll. I’m not mad. I was hurt but you’re right. She is the most important thing. We’ll protect her from anything” 

Rebecca looked up, smiling at you both and reached an arm out to slip one around you as well. You laughed when she tugged you closer “She’s already pretty damn strong” he nodded “I see. Don’t worry, I can handle it” you laid your head over on his shoulder, smoothing a hand down Rebecca’s back “I know. I know she’s safest right here, finally being in your arms”

@desimarie12

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Let Me Go (No Puedo) Pt. I

summary: the day you meet Joaquin is the day you decide that you won’t fall for him.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!wilson!reader

contents: 18+/MINORS DNI, forbidden romance, flirting, pining, longing, minimal angst, mentions or depictions of abusive parents

wc: 2,235

an: this one has been soooo fun to write with the mutual pining, will they won’t they energy. hope yall enjoy and feel free to share your thoughts with me <3

let me go (no puedo) masterlist

The day you meet Joaquin is the day you decide that you won’t fall for him.  

You and Sam weren’t related by blood, but he was like a big brother to you nonetheless. You’d do your sibling duty, and not fall for his newest partner— his closest friend since Steve besides Bucky.

You were there when Bucky had gotten a stern talking to about flirting with Sarah, and took it seriously. Obviously, it struck some nerve for Sam, two people he cared about deeply transcending their relationships with him to have one with one another.

And you owed Sam too much to betray him like that. He and Sarah had practically raised you due to your parents’ neglect. They always advocated for you, brought you food, and begged their parents to bring you along to errands and eventually family functions. By the time you were 15, you lived with them instead of your own family. 

The least you could do is not piss off your brother. That’s how much he meant to you— even if you felt an instant, undeniable pull towards Joaquin upon meeting him. Who wouldn’t when he’s so gorgeous, and charming?

“This is my little sister, I’ve mentioned her before.”

Joaquin raises his brows, smirking. “Have you? Because I feel like I would remember someone so—“

“Watch it,” Sam quips, his brows set as his eyes flicker between the two of you.

You extend your hand and Joaquin takes it, his handshake firm…his skin softer than you had imagined. “It’s good to meet you, Joaquin. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All good things I hope?”

You laugh, nodding, “With how deep his glare is right now, I’m surprised at how good it all was.”

“I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“You two finished?” Sam asks stiffly.

You reach out and give his shoulder a rub, hoping he takes it as reassurance that nothing will happen between you and Joaquin. No matter how much you may want something to happen.

“I need to go check the grill anyway,” You suggest, giving them both a wave as you start across the backyard.

“Nice meeting you!” Joaquin calls after you, and you glance over your shoulder at him giving him a wave in response.

It gives you a front-row seat to the way Sam snatches Joaquin closer by his t-shirt. Sam’s face has shifted from a simple glare to an intense glower. And though you can’t hear what he’s saying you know it’s something like:

“Don’t ever— and I mean ever flirt with my sister.”

It should’ve ended there. 

—

But, it didn’t. 

Sarah had mentioned redecorating more times than you can count and she finally bit the bullet. While that brought you some relief from mulling over color palettes, fabrics, and artwork it now meant that it was time to build everything.

You’re on your way over, headphones on as you sit tucked into the back corner of the bus with your toolbox in tow. 

When you get there there’s a man on the roof. No, not just any man— Joaquin is on the roof. Thank God you can’t get too good of a look at him, you can tell that his shirt is clinging to him in ways that would breed sinful thoughts. 

You’ll just head inside and hope he stays up there for most of the day, it’s silly and you know that he can’t, but a girl can dream and pray can’t she?

Apparently, the answer is no, because Joaquin glances over his shoulder as you walk up the stoned path. There’s no mistaking the bright grin that spreads across his face. He makes his way to the edge of the roof, plopping down with feet dangling over the edge.

“Hey, querida.”

“Hi, Joaquin. Sarah didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

His smile widens into something more teasing, and with the gap closing between you with each step you take, you can see the way his brown eyes shine. “Funny, you being here was one of her selling points for me.”

You feel your face grow warm despite the sticky Louisiana heat. Sam would be disappointed to know that you can’t be firm with Joaquin and tell him the two of you can’t do this. 

It was hard to resist him though when you felt this strange pull inside of you that begged to know him. 

“Good to know,” You murmur, a little shy by the way your eyes avoid his.  “I’ll see you inside?”

“Bet on it.”

When you make it inside, you immediately grill Sarah— it’s part of the Wilson tradition.

You come to stand in front of her, arms crossed against your chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you warn me that Joaquin would be here?”

“Oh, so there is something there. I was wondering,” She hardly looks up from the mail she’s thumbing through. 

“You were wondering?” You breathe incredulously.  

She shrugs, unphased by your anger. “He wouldn’t take his eyes off of you at the barbecue a few weeks ago and you just happened to avoid putting your eyes on him the whole time. I just had to know.”

“I don’t know, you could’ve asked!” You insist, annoyed. 

“So you could lie to my face? Yeah right. Now get to work, I’m making you both lunch and you have to earn it.”

There’s no use in arguing with Sarah, just like the rest of you she’s stubborn. But her stubbornness and her opinions have more weight as the oldest.

By the time you’ve halfway finished building her new coffee table, Joaquin makes his way inside. He has a slight sheen to him from the sweat, and you were right— being this close to him, seeing the way his shirt molded to his skin did conjure salacious thoughts.

Thoughts you forced yourself to swallow down as you turned your eyes back to the screw you were tending. 

“Roof’s all good. Where do you want me?”

“Could you put up those shelves? I figured you two could build the couch together once all the small stuff is down.”

You scoff softly, rolling your eyes even as you keep them focused on the task at hand.

Joaquin looks at you, intrigued. “Not a fan of manual labor, querida?”

“I’m fine with it, this just better be the best lunch I’ve ever had.”

“It will be because I made it,” Sarah retorts, unable to keep her knowing grin at bay.

Joaquin just looks between the two of you, wise enough not to put himself in the crossfire of sisters arguing— he’d take identifying some alien species or destroying missiles any day. 

The three of you settle into your respective tasks until you’re looking for the last few screws to complete the coffee table. They’re nowhere to be found.

“Joaquin, do you have 10-inch screws in your kit?”

He’s moving to his box immediately, riffling through it with an urgency that would make you think it’s life or death.

“No, ‘looks like just 8 inch. It’s particular isn’t it?” He asks, but before you can answer he’s making his way over to you so that he can read the manual with you. “Particular,” He repeats. “I can run and grab you some.”

“No, no, I can get them.”

“Déjame. It’s fine. Here,” He fishes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to you.

“What’s this for?”

His eyes are wide, innocent but his mouth quirks into a smug smile. “So I can send you pictures and make sure I get the right ones.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second but don’t have it in you to resist despite knowing that Sarah is watching your every move. Because if you’re being honest, with Joaquin so close and so clearly happy to see you, it feels like no one else exists. 

Typing in your number quickly, you hand the phone back to him, your hands accidentally brushing his. This casual touch that should mean nothing sends a flicker of electricity through your skin. Joaquin must feel it too because his gaze meets yours, going a little hazy. 

That is how you and Joaquin end up exchanging phone numbers. And for a long while, it’s radio silent.

—

You’re sure that the universe is trying to send you spiraling. It was already a rough day at work, and you could feel a migraine coming on, tension settling into your shoulders. Usually, you’d talk to Sam about it but he was away on a mission with Joaquin in a completely different time zone. 

Sam had sent you some texts of reassurance but you didn’t want to bother him further, not when whatever he was doing was probably keeping the world spinning.

You’ve stepped out of the shower and are trying your best to massage the tautness out of your flesh when your phone rings.

Maybe Sam had finished up early. You don’t bother looking down at your phone, you simply answer it and continue with your massage.

“God, I’m glad you called. Today fucking sucked.”

“So I heard. I’m glad I called too then, hermosa,” Joaquin’s smooth voice comes over the line, softer than ever.

Your blood goes completely cold as if you’re being hunted for sport and you freeze, eyes wide as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

After several moments of silence, he asks, “Te fuiste?” 

“No, I’m here. I’m— I didn’t know that you— you called me?”

“Sam said you had a bad day, but he’s beat. Passed out as soon as we got on the plane. I figured I’d check on you.”

“Well, thank you.”

“No sweat. You wanna talk about your day?”

You should say no. Leave it at thanking him and hang up the phone, but it’s like all of the blood in your brain has traveled to your heart. It squeezes with endearment. He wanted to check on you despite knowing that this couldn’t go anywhere. What’s one phone call? He’s being a friend. Who are you to deny that?

“Honestly, I’d rather talk about anything but.”

“Mmm, okay, okay. Then tell me what you do for fun?”

“Nine times out of ten somehow I end up with Cass and AJ. They’re so adventurous for their age, so…brave. Every single day they teach me something new. Kind of a lame answer but—“

“No, it’s not. You love your family. There’s nothing lame about that, querida.”

“Thanks,” You breathe shyly, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “What about you?”

“You know the drill, not much time for fun when you’re being dragged around the globe.”

“Dragged? You’re certainly willing.”

“Ready and willing on more levels than you know. But, yeah, it kind of absorbs your life. If we’re not on a mission, I’m training or sleeping or eating. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to get a drink with a friend or watch a movie.”

“And your family?”

“Just me and mi abuela,” He admits. 

You didn't know that—that Joaquin didn’t have parents either. Not with his confidence, his willingness to be open and vulnerable. In the beginning, when you had finally realized and accepted that your parents didn’t want to care for you an intense loneliness had taken root in you. You find yourself growing even more curious about him, wondering if it impacted him similarly.  

“Sam never told me that.”

“Let’s be real, Sam’s avoiding telling you anything about me since we met.”

“I’m sure it’s vice versa.”

“Yeah, I was surprised he mentioned you tonight. He must’ve been really worried. This helping?”

“It’s helping. Thank you, Joaquin.”

“I told you, descuida. I— I like talking to you. More than I should. Or should I say more than Sam would like.”

“Sam doesn’t like a lot of things if that makes you feel better.”

“Trust me, yo sé. Enough about that guy— what do you dislike?”

You end up staying on the phone with Joaquin for hours, putting him on speaker once you finally finish your skincare and head to the kitchen to make dinner. He asks you questions about your taste in food and film. What your favorite thing is about your siblings. If there’s something you think about before you close your eyes at night and when you wake up in the morning. You’re sure that he’s truly listening by the way he hums or the follow-up questions he asks, and his answers to the questions are just as thoughtful.

When you finally let out a yawn, Joaquin glances at his watch.  He frowns, he hadn’t meant to keep you up, especially not after a difficult day. “What time is it there?”

Through another yawn, you say, “Oh, um, it's almost 2 a.m.”

“You should head to bed, hmm? Get a good night’s sleep so you don’t have another shitty day.”

“2 a.m. is nothing,” You insist, not ready to let the conversation end just yet. You were sure you’d never get an opportunity like this again with him; that was for the best. 

“Cierra los ojos, querida,” He murmurs. His voice is so gentle it makes your heart ache with longing. “I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Both of you know that’s not true though. You know that tomorrow you’ll pretend this call never happened. And if Joaquin knows what’s good for him, he’ll do the same.

“Goodnight, Joaquin. Thank you again.”

“Goodnight, hermosa. I’m always happy to help you.”

> pt. ii

must be 18+ & have age displayed to be on taglist!

joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69 , @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl, @soularsss, @everydaydreamer, @violetpassionfruit

[ang3ltine]

"𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞" - Bucky Barnes x Former Avenger freader

Bucky tries to win your trust back after seeing your name in his book of amendments. Things get a little emotional so Bucky stays with you until you forgive him. What he doesn't expect is to see a little girl living with you?

a.n - What farm life would be like with Bucky, his future wife and kid. Will work on pt.2 if you guys like this!

warnings- angst (ofc), grief, loss of loved ones, mcu spoilers!! Minor sexual tension and makeout sessions, but still full of fluff!

Therapy sessions never worked out for James Bucky Barnes.If anything, he only became more and more frustrated as the months go by.

A year had passed since Steve left, making it difficult for Bucky to move on. He wasn't in the right head space to be in a relationship, so he broke up with you.

You took it pretty hard and stayed low, not telling anyone where you were. Except for Clint because you trusted him.

So here he was, ranting to Sam about his problems and what he should do.

"Let me ask you this, your book of amendments that you carry with you. Isn't there someone on there that you wanna apologise to?" Sam asks while he propels the shield towards the trees, and it bounces back to Bucky.

Bucky catches it with ease and holds it for a while, letting his mind reel.

He lets out a sigh when a particular name comes into mind as he hands the shield back to Sam.

"Yeah...I do."

"Its her isn't it?"

Sam knew who Bucky was thinking about and pats his shoulder firmly with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Listen, I'm sure if you explain to her what you're going through. She'll forgive you."

Bucky gives him a tight-lipped smile and shakes his head at the thought of seeing you again. You were by his side ever since the civil war incident and hadn't left since.

But after Thanos' defeat and you both lost people, it was decided that you guys needed a break. What you didn't expect was to be fully cut off by Bucky.

He knows for sure that affected you deeply and the guilt has crept up on him up until this point. Especially since you hadn't seen him for five years and he just suddenly left you.

At the time you guys dated you were in your early 20s. Despite the age gap you guys made it work. But now you were probably in your late 20s.

"I'll...I'll give it a try."

"Goodluck man. I'll be here if you need me." Was the last think Sam said before Bucky.

He finds Clint and he reluctantly tells him your location after lots of convincing, he then books a plane ride to Connecticut.

Bucky didn't expect the countryside to be this beautiful and...green. He didn't really have time to relax and leave the city without being sent on some dangerous mission.

For now, he appreciates it while he can.

With the revving of his engine coming to a halt as he pulls into the driveway. He parks his motorcyle next to your letterbox before heading down the pathway towards your house.

It was a quaint red farmhouse with a porch at the front. A small farm was by its side with horse stables, cows, and hen coops. There was also a huge field of flowers surrounding the isolated house with a variety of different colours.

He hesitates for a moment before knocking on your door. It took a few seconds, but the sound of shuffling could be heard and a muffled 'coming!'.

The door opened with you peeking out slightly from behind. You still looked like yourself, just a little more mature and you grew into your features.

"Hey uhm... it's me Bucky. Can I come in?" He asks hesitantly while he shifts on his feet awkwardly.

Your face contoured from confused to anger.

"You have the nerve to show up here after what happened between us?" You hissed between your teeth while crossing your arms.

Bucky didn't have time to answer before he gets cut off.

"I lost people too. Steve, Natasha, Tony, everyone!" You yelled as your voice faltered and the tears started to well up in your eyes.

"You were the only person left for me and you just....pushed me away." Bucky was speechless at your sudden outburst but knew now how hard it truly was for you. He was the only person left to comfort you and he blew it.

You were just as lonely as he was.

"I'm sorry ok? I..I wasn't thinking straight. After the whole ordeal with Steve and having to cope with living a normal life again. I wasn't thinking about you-" Bucky stops to catch his breath, feeling his own anger and tears of frustration building up.

"It was selfish of me for leaving you by yourself and the guilt has never gone away. But I'm here now...and I wanna fix what I've broken." Bucky exhales as he steps closer to you. His body now looming over you as you both breath heavily from yelling.

Your vision was a bit blurred due to the tears but you could tell he was being genuine. His eyes told you alot about his emotions, so you reluctantly step aside.

Bucky wipes his shoes at the doormat before letting himself in.

"I'm not ready to forgive you just yet. So you'll need to earn it back from me." You say while you close the door behind you.

"Yeah I can work with that." Bucky let's out a sigh before looking around your home. He let his fingers run across the top part of the fireplace. He stops when a familiar picture catches his eyes.

It was you, Bucky and Steve, smiling at the camera. It was at a time where Bucky was rehabilitating in Wakanda and you guys had gone to visit him.

Bucky didn't know at the time but the way he sees you looking over to him in such a loving way. Made him realise just how lucky he really was.

"Mommy can I come down now?" A little voice called out from the top of the stairs.

Bucky was caught completely offguard as he stands at the bottom of the staircase and sees a little girl standing there.

She had curly brown hair, pale blue eyes and chubby cheeks. In her hand was a plush rabbit and she still had on her pajamas as she stares down at him with wide eyes.

The resemblance was uncanny because she looked like an exact copy of you.

"Ofcourse Sweetie! You can come down now." You urge her to come down with outstretched arms and bright smile on your face.

The little girl hops down the stairs and jumps into your arms with a giggle.

"Wait...who's kid is that?"

You tried balancing the kid on the side of your hip before wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"She's your kid," you stated simply when you turn back to face Bucky.

Once again, words failed to come out of his mouth while trying to process what you had just said.

"And you didn't think of telling me?" Bucky asks sternly while you try averting your gaze.

"I wanted to...at the time when Steve came back after using the time machine. But then we got quite the shock when we saw him. So I thought about telling you afterwards ..." Your voice trailed off while your voice shook a little.

"But then you cut me off. Saying that we should 'take a break.' Which obviously I respected the deal because I know you lost someone important to you."

Bucky's chest filled with guilt as you carried on speaking. Now that he was getting a better look at you, there were visible eyebags from the lack of sleep and the colour was drained from your face.

"Steve, he was like a brother to me. So when he passed -- I...guess my brain just shut down and I couldn't really think of anything else and I'm sorry...really sorry."

You rambled on while the little girl wrapped her arms around your neck and buried her face into your neck.

"I wanted to contact you but nobody would tell me where you were or how to contact you. If anything...I should be asking you for forgiveness." You breathed out shakily whilst you look up at him with teary eyes.

"No-- no way, it was my fault for just leaving you like that without a proper goodbye." Bucky murmured while pulling both you and the little kid into a firm hug.

"What do you say we spend some time together hm? Like...a real family." Bucky whispers into your hair.

"Yeah..Yeah I'd like that alot." You replied, your voice was a little hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

"So what's the little ones name?" Bucky asks while ruffling her hair which made her giggle in response.

"It's Evelyn...Evelyn Isla Barnes."

Buckys eyes softened at the mention of his last name while Evelyn held his big fingers. He gave her a small, yet loving smile while she reached out to touch his face.

"How old is she by the way?"

"4 and a half years old," you replied as you happily handed Evelyn into his arms. You were struggling to keep her balanced on your hip so you were more than surprised when Bucky held her so effortlessly.

"Damn...maybe I should've taken the serum too," you huffed while crossing your arms with a tired smile on your face.

"Nuh uh, if you took the serum? I don't think I'd be able to handle your punches," Bucky chuckles while you raise your eyebrows at the comment.

Needless to say, Bucky returning home was definitely not on your bucket list. But you were happy that he was home again, with you and Evelyn.

Sure it took a while for you to get used to Bucky's presence again, but it sure made chores around the a whole lot easier.

Need cleaning up to do? He already has his hands on the vacuum. Anything in the house needs fixing? Whatever was broken gets fixed with a few tweaks and the use of a hammer.

Speaking of chores, mornings were usually when you'd feed the farm animals and clean the stables or hen pens. So the three of you would need a pretty big breakfast for the tiring tasks that you all had just finished starting from dawn. Excluding Evelyn since you had woken her up around 7am.

Bucky had just finished taking a shower. He didn't have any clean tops left so he opted for a plain white vest and threw it on. He padded across the creaky floorboards of the hallway, following the scent of freshly baked bread that was coming from the kitchen.

"Evie sweetie could you get the milk from the front door please?"

"Okay!" Evelyn answers back and grabs a warm cookie from the tray that you had just placed on the table. You shook your head in disbelief at how quick the young girl was when she snatched the goodie.

"Mornin' doll," a low voice drawled next to your ear almost causing you to drop the tray of cookies from your hands in surprise. Bucky had wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his nose into the crook of your neck.

"God Bucky, don't sneak up on me like that."

You could feel that he was smiling against your skin as he lets out a small chuckle. "Sorry it's a habit."

Bucky lets out a muffled groan when you run your fingers into his slightly damp hair. You step away for a second which startled him a little before relaxing again when you positioned yourself to face him fully.

"Your hair's still wet," you mumbled before tugging gently on the towel around his neck and reach up to dry his hair. The gesture was small but sincere.

You noticed that his hair was starting to growing out again since he had been so busy with helping you around the farm and didn't have time to trim it. Which if you were being honest, suited him much more.

It reminded you of how he used to look in the pictures you saw of him back in Steve's exhibition.

Bucky's hands lift up and let his fingers brush gently across your cheeks before letting his hands rest on either side of your face while he admires your features. The bags underneath your eyes were no longer visible and he could see the youthful glow that you usually had was slowly coming back.

"You seem awfully smiley today," you perked while trying to dry his hair with the towel throughly.

The gap between you both became scarce while he removed the wet towel from his head and placed it on the table behind you.

"Is it weird to say that maybe the reason is because I'm just in a happy mood?" Bucky murmured while small droplets of water fell from his hair and onto your cheek.

"I find that hard to believe," you say softly as you try bite back your smile while Bucky continues to inch closer and closer towards you, making your back hit against the edge of the table.

He had just shaved so the reminent of his aftershave flooded your senses as he was impossibly close now, his breath now heavy against yours. Your skin felt soft and warm underneath the rough pads of his palms since the blood had reached to the surface, painting a red hue across your cheeks.

"I'm guessin' you've forgiven me? At least a little bit?" Bucky mused while you lean into his touch. You hummed while you tapped your chin with your finger.

"Hmm, maybe, but I think I still need a little more...convincing," you murmured in a low tone with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, Bucky dips his head low and presses his lips against yours. They were just like he remembered, sweet, plump and oh so inviting.

The kiss was gentle yet full of desire. Head tilting the side, his hot breath mingling with yours as his tongue dragged gently across your bottom lip.

Coaxing you to open your mouth. Your tongue meets his as the hand slips down towards your waist. Pressing his fingers into your plush skin which will definitely leave marks considering how tight his grip was.

You wasted no time reaching to the back of his neck and slipped your fingers into his dark hair pulling him in impossibly closer. Soft moans escaped your mouth in-between each kiss while Bucky soaked in every one, pushing him to kiss you deeper.

Honestly he could get used to this.

After being by himself for God knows how many months, he wanted to relish every little moment with you. A month had passed since he had moved in and so the relationship progressed quite alot too.

Sure he gave you space at first but the growing tension between you both was hard to ignore up until this point.

He wanted to savour the moment but much to his dismay, the kiss was cut short when you hear the sound of little feet in the corridor. You laugh softly when his lips absent mindlessly chased yours, and before you could tell him why you stopped kissing him, Evelyn makes an appearance.

"I got the milk!" Evelyn yelled while rushing in with the milk bottles bottles in her hand.

Bucky perks up at the sound of Evelyn's voice and gently pulls way from you after giving you a quick peck on your cheek.

"Hey ~! How's my favourite bird doin'?" Bucky says while bending down to her height with outstretched arms. Evelyn almost drops the cart of milk bottles on the floor before running into his welcoming arms.

The scene before you wasn't anything new, Bucky was indeed a girl dad. He would always fold whenever Evelyn would want anything from the market or when she wanted a toy from the store. Let's just say she was one spoilt girl.

You even jokingly said to him once whether Bucky had given birth to her instead of you.

"Who picked out your outfit today?" Bucky asks while twirling the little girl around, letting her blue dress swish around.

"Mommy did! Because it's my first day of school," Evelyn quipped with exaggerated hand gestures. Bucky fixes the red bow in her hair with a bright smile as he listened to his daughter rant.

She had grown quite a bit and was now 5 years old. Her birthday was just a few days ago and you figured it was best to send her to school rather than have her cooped up at home.

Bucky was about to say something before getting cutoff by the sound of the school bus honking outside. You packed her lunch and handed Bucky the bag while you bend down to fix the straps on her shoes.

Within a minute or two she was ready and was giving the both of you a big hug before stepping onto the bus.

" Bye mommy and daddy! "

You lean against Buckys shoulder while waving goodbye and he too did the same gesture with smiles on their faces. With the bus now disappearing behind the hill from your line of vision.

"You think she'll be okay?" You sighed while playing with the ends of his sleeve.

Bucky notices the tone of worry in your voice and rubs your shoulder for reassurance.

"Hey, she'll be great! I mean did you see how she plays with our neighbours kid? She's a natural."

You crane your neck slightly to meet his gaze, having to shield your eyes due to the sun being directly behind Bucky.

Bucky laughs softly while you struggle to make out his silhouette, so he pulls you in by your waist so that he was fully looming over you. Now that the sun was blocked by his body, you could see his face.

He had his usual lopsided grin that was only reserved for you and you couldn't help but smile back.

"I'm sure one of the reasons why she's so friendly is because she has such an amazing dad to look up to as a role model." You mused while resting your chin on his chest as you peer up through your lashes.

"Okay that's a lie and you know it. I've only been here a month, you're the real role model. Besides, I think we both learned from the master."

You scrunched your brows in confusion before piecing together of what he meant.

"You know what? You're right! I mean, if it wasn't for me, you'd stay as a grumpy old man for the rest of your life." You played along jokingly while Bucky opens his mouth to protest. "Who're you callin' old?"

"Hey--!! Buck what're you doing?" You say breathlessly from how hard you were laughing.

Bucky had thrown you over his shoulder and made his way towards the small lake that was nearby.

"Wha- no wait-!" Bucky only ran faster while you struggled to get out of his strong grasp. You couldn't see his face but you knew he had a shit eating grin on his lips.

You screamed when he jumps into the crisp cold water with you. There was no time for you to process what had just happened when you bob your head above the water. Bucky was already splashing water at you while laughing.

"Oh you're on!"

You splashed back with the same energy while Bucky tried blocking the incoming waves.

"Hey! Woah-- I didn't splash you that much -" Bucky says while gasping for air after you relentlessly attack him with water.

His vest was completely drenched now and his hair cling to his face. You stopped after a while since Bucky had dropped under water. At first you thought he was playing a prank on you but your worries grew when he didn't come up for air.

That was until you felt him tug you under too causing you to squeel in response. After the two of you make it up back to the surface, you give him a playful smack on the arm before he pulls you in by the waist.

"You know at one point were gonna have to tell the others about Evelyn too." Bucky says in a quiet tone while moving stray hairs away from your face.

You hum in response while doing the same to him but you let your hands rest on his cheeks.

"Yeah... I know. But in the meantime let's just enjoy the moment. At least for the next few weeks then I'll figure something out. Maybe a reunion party?"

"Mm sounds great." Bucky murmured before nuzzling his nose against yours, his wet hair tickled your nose slightly. He hesitates before flickering his gaze up to you again.

Water droplets cling to his lashes as his pale blue eyes darkened due to the lack of sunlight thanks to the shade from the looming tree above you both. In the pit of your stomach you felt the rush of butterflies while getting lost in his entrancing eyes.

You hate to admit it but the man has such a good way of making you fold just with his gaze.

"Somethin' wrong doll?" Bucky tilts his head slightly, clearly amused at your flustered reaction.

"Don't push it Barnes," you say with a snarky remark. A stark contrast to how warm your cheeks were.

"C'mon doll, I know you want this too," his words were slurred with a heavy accent. He swipes the bottom of your lip with his thumb, waiting for your permission so you gave him a small nod of approval.

At first he starts of slow, with the utmost gentleness as he tested the waters. His lips were damp but nonetheless soft as it practically melts againgst yours, moving together in a steady motion.

He groaned against your lips at the taste of your sugary of the chocolate chips you ate to go with the cookies.

"Taste S'good..." he whimpered against your lips before swiping his tongue across your bottom lip to taste more. You winced slightly but the pain soon turned into pleasure while he gently abuses the soft muscle.

Bucky yearned for you.

It's true that the super soldier was extremely touch deprived, that he would die if he couldn't wallow in your presence or be touched by you. So he cherishes every kiss that you let him give to you.

A hot trail of open-mouthed kisses trailed down from the side of your lips towards your neck. Bucky groaned at the taste of your supple skin, and as the faint scent of pastries and sweet treats filled his nostrils.

He finally found your sweet spot and focuses on that particular spot while you squirm underneath his touch. Leaving dark hickeys all across your neck and collarbone.

"Bucky we're going to get caught," you squeeked while you frantically look around since you guys were still in public.

It was beginning to get hard to breath as you pant slightly from the overwhelming pleasure that had built up. After feeling satisfied with his work, he leaves your skin with a pop.

Even you couldn't deny that Bucky was one amazing kisser.

"Love you s'much," your voice barely a whisper while you press one last sweet kiss to his lips.

Bucky let's out a small chuckle as you began to pepper his face with quick pecks before stopping.

"Love you too angel..." he whispered before resting his forehead against yours.

Despite being wet again after having just taken a shower not too long ago. He was more than happy to do it again, especially since you were there to join him.

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[angrythingstarlight]

thinking about mob!bucky from the only exception and how his girl says no shoes in the house

i wanna know how he found out about this rule. did she spend the day cleaning, freshly washed floors, and he comes in with dirty shoes and she chews him out and says that this is not allowed in their home and in the middle of it he just starts smiling and she’s like WHAT? WHY ARE YOU SMILING? IM MAD

and he’s like “you said our home and i just love when you say that cause now this house is actually a home with you here and also i love you and i’m sorry i’ll clean it” and he cleans the floor and then goes out and buys a nice doormat and a shoe rack to organise everything cause i love organising and

thanks for listening ok bye

It actually happened when they were still dating. They would alternate spending the night at her apartment and his mansion. She always had this rule about not wearing shoes in her house but Bucky didn't realize that at first.

It bothered her but she wasn't sure how to approach the topic. It wasn't even a big thing but the longer it went on, the harder it became to bring up. Bucky happens to be astute and finely tuned into her emotions.

One night after a museum date, they walked into her apartment. She was leaning on the wall, taking off her shoes and her gaze flicked down to his brogue Oxfords. Bucky was musing over dinner options when he saw her expression.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asks, shrugging off his black coat, he places it on the rack by the front door.

Smiling, she shakes her head. "Why would something be wrong? I think we should try that new Thai place we passed on the way over."

Her attempt to deflect doesn't work. Not with him. Any other man would have dismissed her obvious discomfort and moved on. Not Bucky. He gives her a wry look, his brow arching.

"What's wrong Malyshka?" His tone is firm yet surprisingly tender, making it clear to her that he's going to get an answer.

"I—" She hesitates and for some reason Bucky despises that. It gets under his skin, makes him feel restless. He reaches out to her, running his hands down her arms, his fingers close around her wrists and he brings them to his chest.

"Tell me what's wrong. If it's something I did, let me know so I won't do it again. If it's something, someone else did," Bucky smirks, peering down at her. "Let me know so they won't do it again."

"It's not really a big deal," she starts, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. "But maybe you could take your shoes off in the house?"

"I could," he responds after a minute. He doesn't move, simply staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"Well..." She laughs nervously. "Will you?"

This is more than the shoes to him, Bucky needs to establish the boundaries of this relationship now so going forward there is no confusion what role she has in his life. What power she holds over him.

"Every single day I'm surrounded by people who will do anything I want. Most of them are too afraid to question me, challenge me." Bucky bends slightly so he's gazing directly into her eyes. "You are not them. You can tell me what to do. So tell me what to do Malyshka. Tell me what you want from me so I can give it to you."

Even when he's offering control, he's dominant. It's sexy.

Emboldened by his deference, she swallows thickly, matching his stern gaze. "I don't want you wearing shoes in the house," she states with an unwavering tone.

"Done," he says with a pleased grin. Bucky leans in, holding her hands above her head as he backs her into the wall. "Anything else?"

Pride unfurls deeps in his chest when she tugs one of her hands free, wraps it around his tie and pulls him down. "I have a few things you can do for me. On your knees Barnes."

"That's my girl."

[sleepypanda27]

Distractions

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky is bored filling out the paperwork. Luckily, you're there to distract him.

Words: 616

Once or twice a week, Bucky worked in his office to handle the paperwork. This was one of those days. You softly knocked on Bucky's half-closed door to his office. His eyes looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of him. Honestly, you thought he had fallen asleep. 

"Hey, Buck." You smiled, shutting the door and walking to his desk.

"Hi, doll." He stretched his arms above his head, leaning back in the chair. 

"I brought you coffee." You pecked his cheek and placed the mug on the desk, leaning against the table in front of him.

"Thanks." Bucky rolled his chair closer to you, placing his head in your lap, and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm gonna take a nap." You tangled your fingers in his hair, softly massaging his head with your fingertips. "Sweetheart," He hummed in contentment. "That feels so good." He almost moaned. 

Bucky pulled you in his lap, nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You giggled as his scruff brushed over your skin. 

"I love this shirt on you." You brushed your palms over his chest, stopping at the buttons and rolling them between your fingers.

"I don't know, I think it looks better on you." His hands slid up your sides. "Especially if you're not wearing anything underneath it." He smirked, looking into your eyes with mischief sparkling in his blues. "And I've had my way with you." 

You chuckled at his statements.

"Ugh," He sighed. "I have so many things to do. I need to make a training schedule for new recruits and sort out this pile of papers, but all I want to do is you." He smiled playfully. 

"I would love that, but we're at work."

"So?" He quirked a brow.

"What if someone comes in?"

"I still don't see where's the problem." While Bucky's hands found their way under your shirt, he leaned closer to your neck, placing a soft kiss. 

"Bucky," You gasped, giggling as he blew raspberries against your neck. You laughed as you squirmed away from him.

He wrapped his vibranium arm firmly around your waist and stood up with his free hand, sweeping the papers and stationary off the table. Thankfully, the coffee mug survived, staying on the table.

"Bucky!" You giggled as he seated you on top of the table. 

"Yes, dear?" He smugly replied before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

His stationary phone rang. He ignored it the first time. The second time it called, he pulled away to look who was calling so persistently. "Oh no, it's Tony."

"I'm not here." You whispered, catching your breath.

Bucky nodded, pressing a button on the phone console and setting it on the loudspeaker. "Yes, Tony?"

"I need Y/n." Tony's voice rang through the speaker, filling the quiet room.

"Sorry, but she's not here," Bucky answered in all seriousness, looking at you, basically undressing you with his eyes.

"Yeah, right." He chuckled. "Y/n, come to my office in five." Tony knew where to find you when you weren't in your office. Either you would be with Nat or Sam. But most frequently, he could find you with Bucky.

"Okay, Tony." You rolled your eyes, ending the call. Getting off Bucky's table and straightening your clothes, you spotted the thing you were coming for in the first place. "I'm taking this." Smiling, you took the invoice from the floor. "Tony approved buying the knives you wanted."

"How did you manage that?"

"It's like you don't know me at all. You can thank me later." You winked at him as you turned to walk away.

"Oh, darlin', already can't wait." He said as he playfully slapped your backside.