#mcu scenarios

[waternilly]

“You’re flustered.” “Yeah, so?”

Fandom: MCU Ship: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (race neutral) Word count: 1.4k Genre: Fluff Warnings: none Ao3 link: here Summary: A rather boring night gets better when you meet Bucky during one of Tony's famous parties at Avengers Tower. | Based on the prompt "You're flustered." "Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” from this list.

You breathed in with difficulty, the air around you saturated with perfume, sweat and smoke. A sip from your iced drink barely cooled you down, clothes clinging to your skin as it vibrated to the rhythm of the bass. Your feet were aching, trapped in uncomfortable shoes, and all you wanted was to get out of here. As usual, you were not even sure why your boss had asked for you to accompany them at this supposedly professional event, when they ditched you ten minutes after your arrival at Stark Tower.

Apologies, Avengers Tower, as it had recently been renamed. The new title still felt foreign in your mouth while old habits died hard. It was not as if the building had gone through a whole lot of change aside from the name. You'd know, you had been here many times in the past, your boss dragging you around every chance they got. After all, what would they do without their trusty secretary, always present to change their agenda on a whim?

Right. That's why you were here.

You sighed, looking down at your phone to check the time. Another hour and you would be free to slip away without trouble. Pursing your lips, your eyes scanned the darkened room. Ambient lights of different colors allowed you to recognize familiar faces: Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and even the big man himself, Tony Stark.

Not that you'd ever spoken to any of them, aside from a polite greeting to the latter. Tony made a point of welcoming people one by one to his parties, and you always showed up with one of his best business partners. You assumed that was why he had never protested your presence either. In exchange, you always made sure to indulge in the free drinks offered at the bar. You would not want your host to think you did not appreciate his generosity.

Tipping back your glass but coming up empty handed, you realized it was time for a refill.

The counter was not overly crowded anymore, and you settled on one of the stools to rest your feet. Catching the barman's attention with a wave, you ordered a new glass. He nodded in understanding and got started on the drink.

"Nothing more expensive?" a voice sounded from your left.

You turned in its direction, eyebrow cocked.

"Not tonight, no," you answered. "Unless you're offering to pay."

The man, seated next to you as it turned out, let out an airy laugh.

"I would, but I fear everything is on the house anyway."

A new glass was placed in front of you then, atop a coaster. The stranger lifted his drink. You picked up your own and clinked them together.

"I'm Bucky," he presented himself after a sip.

Swallowing, you put the glass back onto the coaster, then offered your own name.

"Are you new here?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

His face was somewhat familiar, but you could not replace him. He was not part of the Avengers, or at least not publicly so, nor was he one of your boss' contacts. You had all those people memorized like the back of your hand, better than your parents' birthdays.

He chuckled.

"Yes, you could say that."

You both sipped from your drinks again, desperate for something fresh in the intoxicating atmosphere.

"You are not, I suppose?" he wondered.

Chuckling, you shook your head.

"I've been here more than I care to or can remember."

"Good nights?"

"Some better than others," you admitted.

"Is this a good one?" he asked, leaning in closer.

You met his gaze, curious and teasing.

Corners of your lips tugging, you first allowed your eyes to detail him: dark hair pulled back into a bun, black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back, black trousers. You were not sure how you had overlooked the metallic arm until now, but you spotted it resting onto the counter. He was undoubtedly strong, well-built, but you liked how relaxed and welcoming he felt.

Locking eyes again, you finally answered: "It's just gotten better."

"What brought you here then? Are you a friend of Tony's?"

Oh, so they were on first name basis.

"No," you shook your head. "I'm just being a good secretary."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up.

You nodded in the direction of someone across the room. "That's my boss."

He looked over his shoulder to spot the person you were referring to, lost in a conversation with Steve, who frantically flashed his eyes left and right, you assumed in search of an escape.

"They drag me here every chance they get."

"That does not sound very fun," he commented, lips upturned.

"Like I said," you took a sip, "depends on the night."

Glancing to your boss, you admitted under your breath: "At least they're not bothering me this time."

Bucky's shoulders shook under a chuckle.

"Aren't you easily amused?" you teased, a grin spreading over your features.

"I'm only happy your boss isn't bothering you." He flashed you a smile. "Because it means I can do that instead."

You rolled your eyes and suppressed a smile.

"So what brought you here? You a friend of the big man?"

"Do you mean Tony?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

You nodded, lips attached to your glass.

"Big is not exactly the adjective I'd use for him."

You snorted and swallowed with difficulty.

"I suppose you're right."

"But to answer your question, yes, I know him."

"Duh, everyone here knows him."

"I'm not sure he knows everyone though."

"Good point."

You paused.

"So does he know you?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," answered Bucky. "Though I wouldn't call us friends, so to say. Think of him more as my... landlord?" His brows furrowed, eyes squinted and head tilted.

A bright chuckle escaped you. "You don't seem very convinced yourself."

"As you put it so well, I am rather new here."

You smiled.

"It's my friend Steve that I have to thank for being around," he said, pointing over his shoulder without looking back.

Glancing to where he motioned, the gears in your head finally turned. You tried to keep your facial expressions under control as you realized who you had been chatting with, but you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

"Bucky fucking Barnes," you whispered under your breath before biting your lip to hold back your smile.

"Hm?" he turned to you again.

"Nothing," you answered in a hurry, shaking your head, avoiding his gaze.

"You're flustered."

It was not a question.

He was grinning.

And leaning closer. Your knuckles almost touched.

"Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"Wait until you see me at my best, doll."

"Are you saying you're not even trying right now?"

"I am. Trying that is." He sipped. "I am also exhausted though. In fact," he leaned closer for only you to hear, "I was about to leave when you sat down."

"Why stay then?" you teased.

"Couldn't pass the opportunity to speak to the most gorgeous woman at this party."

Your cheeks felt warm and your heart fluttered.

Not backing down however, you met his eyes and answered: "The pleasure is all mine."

His breath ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its trail. Any closer and you would be kissing. Without looking away, his hand found yours in your lap, brushing your knuckles with the tips of his fingers. You could feel the callouses on his skin despite his gentle touch.

The cologne that clung to his neck smelled of moss and lemon grass, both earthy and fresh. You caught a sight of silver, a chain peeking from under his top.

His lips, upturned slightly, looked soft and inviting. You were willing to bet that he would not pull back were you to lean in. His eyes were set on you, hungry for more. You noticed his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

"Can I give you my number?" he asked without moving away. "So I can show you what I'm like at my best?"

"Wanna fluster me again?" you teased.

"I'd like that," he admitted with a nod, eyes lingering on your lips just a second too long. "Very much."

A/N: I cannot believe this is the first time I post a Bucky fic. I had written some in the past (looong ago) but never shared them. Likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🫶

[risrambles]

the concept of bucky texting sam updates about life during the events of thunderbolts*

“having a great time doing congress shit! wish u were here!”

fast forward to one hour later

“fighting god, call u later?”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

brain please wake up and draw

bonus :

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you sound deliberately casual. Too casual. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[mischievous-thunder]

The second time Logan made Wade speechless was when he said yes to moving in with Wade

[1-800-luvmail]

after an argument with frank (for whatever reason—) you crack the joke that you accept apologies in cash or credit.

and then he immediately whips his wallet out and tucks his credit card in your hand.

"wh— no, wait, i'm joking—" attempting to shove it back into his hand proves to be a fruitless endeavour as he pushes it back to you.

"well, 'm not, sweetheart. get yourself something nice, yeah?"

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I ask a really soft very in love! Loki with fiancée! fem reader and the promo of city view, but instead of doing it near a window, they are doing it on a roof top? If it's possible, could they be in Asgard?

------------------------🐍---------------------------

{taking it back to the first one because it's the only good one in my opinion}

Though time was endless to them, stretching out over the vastness of eternity as the world moved forward, [Y/N] still thought it was important to take breaks.

With eternity in front of you, it was easy to forget the little things, like this gorgeous view of the sunset, and [Y/N] never wanted to be the type of person who wasted that. “What are you doing?”

[Y/N] turned around and smiled as she saw Loki enter the room. Her beautiful trickster. She had been in love with Loki for as long as she could remember but thought him out of reach for a long time. He was brilliant, powerful, a prince, and she was…well…herself. Though she thought that a detriment, Loki seemed to find that a joy and returned her feelings. The two courted for some time and finally convinced Odin to let them marry. She suspected Frigga had something to do with that.

“Looking at the sunset.” She told Loki as she returned to her viewing. Knowing that he would come up behind her any moment. “It’s truly remarkable today.”

Loki hummed near your ear. As she suspected coming in close while her back was turned. “Remarkable? How can you tell? You cannot even see all of it from this place.”

The trickster’s arms wrapped around [Y/N] and there was a shift in the air. Suddenly, you were no longer in your little enclave looking at the setting sun, but high in the air. The roof top of the palace, she realized, far about Asgard as it stretched out before them. “Oh wow…..”

“This is my favorite spot.” Loki said. Taking [Y/N]’s hand and leading her most gallantly to a small railing. “Thor is intended to rule all of this some day soon, but he won’t have this.”

[Y/N] offered Loki a soft smile. She knew that Loki dreaded the day his brother would become King. Although she couldn’t be sure why. Was it because they would be separated finally? That it would be proven in its totality that Thor was the favorite and most beloved by the people? That Loki would just be his shadow for all time? Who was to say. What [Y/N] did know was that no matter what happened, she would stay by Loki’s side. “Thank you, for showing me this. It is truly beautiful.”

“It certainly is.”

The tone in Loki’s voice caused [Y/N] to turn, and she realized he was looking at her. Talking about her. She blushed and began to turn away again in embarrassment. But Loki caught her chin in his fingers and pulled her close. Kissing her softly as the sun finally dipped past Asgard and painted the sky in indigo hues. “BROTHER!”

The couple broke apart as they heard the loud boom. Only moments later followed by Thor landing, with equally thunderous force, near them. “There you are. I have been looking everywhere for you. Sif and Volstagg wished to train, and we wanted you to join us.”

“Sif and Volstagg?” Loki repeated cynically. Causing Thor to sheepishly shrug.

“Well…I wanted you to join.” Thor corrected. “Oh, hello [Y/N].”

“Hello Thor,” [Y/N] greeted, now that the singled minded brother had realized she was there. “Go on. Go ‘play’ with the others. I won’t keep you.”

“No! You should come!” Thor insisted. Never wanting anyone to be left out. “You are no fighter, but it is always good to have an honest party keep score. Someone,” he playfully punched his brother in the arm, “likes to cheat.”

[Y/N] chuckled at their antics and agreed to join if Loki was going. “I will go for one match.” He insisted. “I have better things to do then get trampled by brutes all evening.”

“Splendid!”

Thor left and the couple followed a few paces after him. “Looks like he found your spot.” [Y/N] whispered to Loki.

“Hmmm….yes. But he won’t have it for long….”

The shift in Loki’s tone made [Y/N]’s thoughts sputter a bit. Something about it seemed…off. It wasn’t the usual annoyance a brother had for his sibling, but something….darker. She couldn’t be sure, and considered it was just a passing thought.

Funny, how when the little things are bad, we forget them. Ignoring the dark in favor of sunsets, or the storms to come.

[yandereworlds]

NEW YANDERE BOTS!

Hey guys, so I'm here with another new batch of my most recent yandere bots! You already know the drill, feel free to check them out and show your support! And as always, Janitorai is an 18+ site, so minors, do not interact.

I'll likely end up adding some of these bots to my CAI account, it mostly depends if I receive enough interactions and overall, feedback on the bots. Have fun!

DC VILLAINS BOT

SIMON GHOST RILEY BOT (PLATONIC)

AVENGERS BOT

HANNIBAL BOT

SULLY FAMILY BOT (PLATONIC)

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE STEVE ROGERS HEADCANONS

He'd fall madly in love with you if you explain something to him from the modern times or just by being yourself. Yep... man here loves you for talking to him NOT just because he's Captain America but as Steve too if you get what I mean

He'd most probably stalk you and make sure you're 'safe'. He finds it completely normal though. The way he sees it is he's just patrolling the place you live at to check for 'any signs of disturbances' to stalk you and drink in your divine beauty. Might even get some of the other Avengers like Natasha and Bucky to help him since they're like best friends and stuff

Completely POSSESSIVE and obsessive as hell. Oh, and not to mention kinda delusional too

The world is a harsh place according to him and he needs to make sure you're safe at any cost. And yes, he will kidnap you if he thinks you're in danger. But not before he finds out more about you and your likes and dislikes and even your relationships with other people, which he doesn't like that much. He wants you to be the only person to depend on and it just infuriates him when you go and hang out with other people. Was he not good enough for you? To cope with his jealousy he's going to try spending more time with you like training together and you both going out more often together

Will most likely kidnap you if he thinks you're putting yourself in danger but don't worry, he'll make the room and the house to your liking. He'll get all the things that you love like fluffy pillows and stuffed animals and books etc. etc.

Good luck trying to make people believe that he kidnapped you. They'd most probably recommend you to a doctor or something because who would believe the chivalrous gentlemanly Captain America would actually KIDNAP someone?? And Steve will most CERTAINLY find out about you trying to tell someone about that and he'll be really disappointed in you. He might scold you like how a kind dad scold his child but if you test his patience levels too much he might just have to teach you a lesson

Don't bother trying to escape from him. Security around you is HELLA tight and plus even if you did manage to escape, one: How in the absolute HECK did you manage THAT?! And two: He'll track you down anyways and trust me, he has ALL the resources that he needs for getting you back in literally less than 24 hours

Normally Steve doesn't get angry THAT much but you better watch out when he DOES. He might lock you in a room if you've tried escaping from him or forcefully cuddle with you since he thinks you feel neglected. Or else he might yell at you at why you're being ungrateful and stuff like that. Yes, it pains him to say and do things like this but he WILL discipline you by any means necessary but he won't do anything to you without your consent of course. Even when he's angry, he's STILL respectful. Well... at least to YOU that is. When it comes to rivals... oh boy.... they're going to kiss the Earth goodbye in less than half a second if someone gets the bright idea to mess with him or you. The Avengers are an exception to this which means you absolutely can NOT go to them for help

He will get absolutely PISSED if he sees Tony talking to you and he'll drag you away from him gritting his teeth. Normally the 2 of them don't get along too well and when it comes to you, he's literally aching to punch him in the face when he sees you talking to him. You're going to have to assure Steve you love him and not let him go and cuddle with him after that. You don't wanna make boi here sad now, DO you?

He wants to have that All American lifestyle with you. You know with the painted white fence, maybe a golden retriever and a nice villa and 3-4 kids. Maybe even more. And when he gets to know you're pregnant, his obsession and over protectiveness of you will shoot up to the roof and out to space. You belong to HIM and NOTHING can separate the 2 of you and he'll make sure of that

[medea-azyungele]

who can I sue for emotional damage after finding a new Babygirl Boyactor with SEVEN upcoming projects only to then be plunged into despair after realising he's just in the mcu

[waternilly]

"Pick you up at seven?"

Fandom: MCU Ship: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (race neutral) Word count: 3.8k Genre: Fluff Warnings: none Ao3 link: here Summary: Almost two weeks after meeting Bucky, he finally asks you out to a proper date. | Sequel to "You're flustered." "Yeah, so?", but it is not necessary to have read it.

The low mumble of the radio playing in your boss' office reached your corner through the open door, the melody bouncing against the empty white walls and ceiling. You licked your lips, eyes fixed on the computer screen as your fingers typed away on the sleek keyboard. All Apple, per your companies' aesthetic.

The final dot was added to an e-mail, and after quickly reading it over, you pressed send.

"Y/N?" the familiar voice called over from the office next door.

Without answering, you stood up and grabbed a pencil and notepad, ready to scribble away if needed.

"Can you remind me of the schedule for the rest of the afternoon?" your boss asked the second you entered.

"At 3 o'clock, the board of representatives will meet you in conference room number 5. Tonight, dinner with your husband and daughter at Carl's, planned for 7 o'clock. A change of clothes for the occasion is awaiting in the closet," you recited from memory.

Your boss sighed, not looking away from the papers on their desk, but you noticed the small smile tugging at their lips.

"Very well," said they, removing the glasses from the bridge of their nose. With their free hand, they rubbed down their face. "Will you call Andrew? I'd like to have a word with him tomorrow about these offers."

Thinking back about their schedule for the upcoming day, you offered: "Would 11 o'clock suit you?"

"Yes, that would be perfect."

You quickly jotted down a few keywords on the notepad.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all. Thank you."

Returning to your desk, you could not help the way crinkles formed around your eyes at the sight of the name appearing on your phone: Bucky. A text was awaiting you. One that piqued your interest from the preview alone.

Are you free...

You hurried to make the necessary professional phone call, fighting the smile in your voice with each syllable. Once the reunion was settled with Andrew for the next day, and added to the official agenda, you crossed the keywords with a pen and a certain satisfaction. The mailbox empty, you hurriedly unlocked your phone.

You did not try to keep your heartbeat under control, staring down at the amalgam of pixels that formed the words you had anticipated:

Are you free tomorrow evening?

Your fingertips danced over the digital keys, hurriedly forming your response.

Ready to show me your best?

You laughed under your breath, anticipating his answer.

Since the professional-event-turned-party at Avengers Tower eleven days prior, messages from Bucky had been scarce but thoughtful. He would ask seemingly random questions to get to know you better, whilst also putting effort into each reply to your own. A handful of texts had consisted of warnings regarding a temporary unavailability. Typically followed many hours later by a new one, announcing he was free again.

You never knew what caused his absences, assuming Bucky would tell you when he deemed it right, if ever.

The phone screen sprung to life again and you did not wait to open the message.

Ready to be properly flustered?

You chuckled to yourself, hiding a smile behind your palm, elbow propped up on the desk.

For all certainty, you verified the agenda for the next day.

Friday: - 11:00: Meeting with Andrew - 12:30: Lunch with Mr. Gaboni and Mr. Adrian at La Tartine - 14:30: Video call about the spring updates - 16:00: Debrief in conference room 2

You were only attending the latter two. Round ups usually lasted an hour, 90 minutes at most. You would be free to go at 5:30 latest.

You can certainly try.

Was the answer you settled on, with the added information of when you would be leaving work.

The glossy white phone on the desk rang then, pulling your attention away. You recited the usual opening line as you picked up the hook. The familiar voice of your boss' husband greeted you by name, asking to speak to their partner. After briefly putting them on hold to verify your higher-up was not already occupied, the call was transferred.

By then, Bucky's reply was awaiting you.

Pick you up at 7?

The corners of your lips tugged as you typed.

Perfect.

••• ○○○ ••• ☼☼☼ ••• ○○○ •••

The bell rang at 7 o'clock sharp.

You hurried to the intercom and pressed the button that connected you to the front door of the building.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, doll."

Bucky's voice was low and soft, deteriorated by an interference but all too recognizable. A small smile grew on your lips.

"I'll meet you downstairs," you answered before cutting the signal.

Fully prepared thanks to Bucky's text informing you of the dress code, all that remained was to slip on a coat. You threw one last glance at your reflection in the mirror by the entrance, checked the presence of the keys in your bag, and exited.

Bucky met you two floors lower, hands in his pockets, back to the iron fence that served as a door. When you passed the threshold, he instantly turned to you, a smile playing on his lips.

"Good evening," he greeted once more, offering his hand.

You raised your own, accepting.

"Good evening, sir."

Heat rose to your cheeks as Bucky leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. The words you had thought of forming remained in your throat, glued to your tongue, thick as honey. You were too busy keeping your facial expressions under control, forcing your eyes back to normal instead of open wide.

Bucky chuckled when he straightened and interlaced your fingers with his.

"Don't tell me you're flustered already?"

Little shit.

You swallowed for good measure, but held your head up high as you answered: "It'll take more than that, Barnes."

He suppressed a laugh and shook his head.

After a sigh, he added: "Very well. It'll be more fun."

You took this moment to look him over. His hair was once again pulled back into a bun, albeit cleaner than the first time you had met him. He wore a dark grey suit over a black shirt, the top two buttons undone. The silver chain clung to his barely visible collarbone and you felt a ring against your palm. A black leather glove hid his metallic hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you wondered.

Bucky started walking, gently pulling you along.

"Brooklyn," he started. "There's an amusement park there I used to go to. Before the war."

You thought for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.

Tentatively, you asked: "Coney Island?"

He nodded.

"Luna Park to be exact."

"You do know it's not the same, right?"

Bucky squinted when he turned to you.

"Shame, here I thought the Witching Waves still existed."

His tone was dripping in irony and the grin pulling at the corner of his mouth only confirmed it.

"Okay, alright, I get it," you defended with a chuckle.

After a pause, you could not help but question: "Is that where you used to take your dates? Back in the day?"

You admired him intently: head down, suddenly bashful, briefly closing his eyes. Bucky rose his shoulders, shrugging.

"'t happened."

You gasped, the hand that was not laced with his rising to your chest.

"So I'm not special?" you asked, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed.

Bucky laughed. Properly laughed for the first time around you. It was loud, bright and clear, shaking his shoulders with every breath he pushed out.

"It's not funny!" you continued, pitching your voice up to make clear it was still a joke. "You're just gonna forget about me by morning!"

You could not keep the act up any longer, however. Not when Bucky met your gaze and shook his head, crinkles around his eyes.

"No, doll, not a chance," he begun. "You're very special to me."

You huffed.

"Laying on the charm thick, aren't we?" you teased, voice back to normal.

He licked his lips.

"Just a tad," he admitted. "But you're the first lady I'm taking out since I've found myself again."

The air was knocked out of your lungs. You hesitated a second before saying anything. Was he being serious? How long was that? You swallowed with difficulty and bit your lip.

"Really?"

The question was posed just above a whisper, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Bucky's head tilted to you, meeting your gaze.

"You're surprised."

Once again. Not a question.

"I am," you admitted.

He was amused. Bucky may not have flustered you with the confession, but this pleased him just as much.

The stroll from your apartment had led you to a metro station, which you were now entering, allowing Bucky to guide you to the correct platform. A breeze was flowing in from the underground tunnels.

Pulling your hand for you to face him, Bucky asked with furrowed brows: "Cold?"

You shook your head no.

His eyes scanned the screen behind you.

"3 minutes."

The station was as busy as usual for a Tuesday evening, neither overly crowded nor deserted. Some held large grocery bags, others were focused on texting back. A man talked loudly into his phone. Plenty were wearing headsets, rendering them blissfully unaware to his personal problems that were being shouted for all to hear. Something about how he didn't do it, baby girl, she misunderstood and it wasn't like that.

You suppressed a laugh, amused by the poor attempts at excuses. A knowing glance was shared with Bucky, who was also pushing down the corners of his mouth.

On the train, when you did not have to bear the yelling any longer, you spoke to Bucky: "Can I ask about your life before the war?"

He nodded.

"Only if I can ask something first though."

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

"Sure."

"When did you recognize me?"

The tone was not accusing, merely curious. You inhaled sharply.

"Towards the end of our first conversation."

"Hm." Bucky slowly acquiesced. "You didn't say anything."

"Why should I have?"

"Alright." He huffed, seemingly satisfied with your answer. "What's your question?"

"Do I only get one?"

"Obviously. Too bad you just used it."

"Ha-ha," you ironized.

He was smirking.

You shoved him back, palm pressing against his chest.

"More seriously though... what was it like?" you waved a hand to accompany your words.

Bucky paused, lips pursed and eyes lost in the distance.

"Different." He swallowed. "Pardon my french here, but I'm so fucking grateful for the progress we've made as a species since I was a kid."

"Like what?"

"Like fucking vaccines for example!"

You chuckled. That was not where your mind was headed, instead picturing more trivial topics, such as colored television.

"Can't help but think how much better Steve's life would've been had we gotten those back in the day."

Your amusement caused by the initial surprise was replaced by tenderness and endearment.

Hesitant, you nevertheless said: "I'm happy you two somehow found each other back."

"Me too, doll."

Bucky and Steve had a special connection. You realized that. One that you would most likely never share with anyone. They were best friends, yes, but it was deeper than that. They had crossed through time, both frozen -- asleep only to awaken in the 21st century. How unlikely, and yet here they both were.

"How did you meet?" you wondered aloud.

"Steve and I?" Bucky asked back, eyebrows raised.

You nodded.

The remainder of the train ride was spent in comfortable silence for you, only reacting occasionally to Bucky's childhood tales. While he did not attract any attention to yourselves, he knew how to spin a narrative, how to maintain your attention. He paused for dramatic effect whenever he saw fit, keeping you on the edge of your seat. You laughed on more than one occasion, ranging from quiet to bright and clear.

Bucky had been the most curious one by text so far. You enjoyed the role reversal, listening to him intently while he recounted what sounded like the best days of his life, all spent with his dearest friend.

Your halt was reached just as Bucky finished telling you about his and Steve's most memorable trip to Rockaway Beach -- when they had to sit in the back of a truck to get back to Brooklyn after having spent all their trip money on hot dogs.

"Here we are," Bucky announced, leading you off the train.

The sky was tinted in dark oranges and pinks when you exited the underground tunnels, welcomed back to the surface by the setting sun. What remained of the voyage was done on foot once again.

"Did you come here often?"

"Coney Island, you mean?"

You nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket to keep yourself from interlacing Bucky's fingers with your own.

"Not really, if I'm being honest. Steve and I brought a couple dates here in our twenties, but younger, our families didn't have much money," he explained. "We were four kids at home and getting all of us here was expensive. Steve's parents had other things on their mind, their son being a sickly one, and all that."

You remained quiet, pondering his words.

"Do you try to make up for certain things? Now that money isn't a concern anymore."

Bucky shrugged: "Som'times. Not all of it's worth it though. And there's other things I gotta miss out on instead."

"Like what?" you wondered, eyebrows furrowed.

"Down-time," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't have as much of it as I used to. I've gotten busy."

"You can never truly win, I guess."

"Nah, but you can make the best of what you have," he smiled. "And for what concerns me, the best way to spend my time is in your company."

You managed to fight back the smile for mere seconds, before letting it split your face across. A hand slipped back out of your coat pocket to meet his. Bucky's eyes were sparkling, looking at you as you interlaced your fingers.

Stop staring, you were tempted to say, but you held his gaze instead. Being the center of his attention made you happy; it made you feel important. You could only imagine how many people would have killed to be in your shoes in that instant, but you quickly realized how little you cared. What mattered was the man next to you, admiring you as if you were a star. The openness and sensitivity he had shown until now only served to elevate him further.

By the time you reached the entrance to Luna Park, neither of your smiles had faltered.

Bucky paid for your tickets, unbothered by the look of recognition the cashier did not even try to conceal. You almost expected him to ask for an autograph.

"You ever been here before?" he wondered as you passed the barriers.

"Nope." You accompanied your answer by shaking your head. "But I've been meaning to."

"Lucky me, I guess."

"Very lucky."

Bucky grinned your way, understanding that you were, in fact, calling him lucky for landing a date with you at all. While it was not entirely false, your confidence and busy schedule having kept you from attending many romantic rendez-vous in the past, it was still a jest. If anything, you would have called yourself the lucky one. For that matter, you may just do that, admitting it in an moment of bare honesty.

A gentle smile tugged at Bucky's lips.

"Trust me, doll. I am."

And just like that, your heart was fluttering once more. You doubted you would ever grow tired of Bucky's charm, no matter how cheeky it might become at times. You could not envision disliking being the center of this man's world; an Apollo singing your praises.

The task of choosing rides was left to you, Bucky never pulling you to one side or the other in the park. He followed you onto all of them, no matter their speed or lack thereof. Halfway through the evening, he insisted on treating to you to a snack and drink in spite of your protests.

"You know I have a job and living wage, right? You already paid for the tickets."

"I am well aware of that fact, but I am also a man from the past."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked despite the knowing look that already shaped your features.

Bucky licked his lips and chuckled, diverting his gaze briefly.

"You're impossible," he mumbled to himself. Then, turning back to you, he added: "Please, doll, let me be old fashioned just a little longer."

"Depends what you mean by that," you challenged.

"Nothing you'd disapprove of."

You sighed, understanding you'd met your match in stubbornness. Unsure what to say, your eyes stared into the ocean, dark and mysterious now that the night had fully set. Lampposts were illuminating the pier in a warm glow while stars speckled the dark canvas in the distance. It was a cloudless night.

Bucky's warm breath hit your ear, as he whispered: "All I want is to treat a beautiful woman on our first date." You turned back towards him and a shiver ran down your spine when you noticed his proximity, not having been this close since the night you'd met. The fresh scent of his cologne tingled your nostrils. "Please, pick whatever you'd like, and just this time lemme pay for it."

You swallowed and blinked fast, focusing to form a coherent sentence.

"Just this time?" you asked.

A chuckle rumbled through Bucky's chest before he answered.

"Just this time. For now."

You breathed him in one last time before turning away. Various drinks and small foods piqued your interest. Had you asked, you had no doubt Bucky would have paid for all of them, but you pushed that thought down. Instead, you settled for one of each and tried your best to not take the price into consideration. It was silly, money clearly not being a concern for Bucky, but you could not help yourself. Call it pride or education, either way, he would have to accept it.

"Are you always like that?" you wondered when you sat down on one of the benches at the pier, facing the ocean.

"Like what?" he asked, looking as if he knew exactly what you were referring to.

"So..." you hesitated. "Old fashioned."

Bucky chuckled, lowering his drink while he had been about to sip from it.

"Suppose I am," he shrugged. "Told you, I'm a man from the past."

"Yeah, quite literally," you nodded. "I sometimes forget that."

"Does it bother you?"

"Your manners?" You thought before answering. "No, I'm just not used to that."

Bucky nodded slowly.

"And my age?" he asked hesitantly.

You blinked, surprised at first. Then your brows furrowed.

"Not at all. I'd actually never thought about it."

"Is that so?"

"Just cause you've been existing for over 80 years doesn't mean that's your age."

"Not everyone agrees."

"Well they're idiots."

"Are you calling my best friend an idiot?" he joked.

"I believe I am."

A short laugh was shared and you relished in the way Bucky's eyes sparkled.

"I just... I don't see the point of counting all the years you were asleep, frozen. Sure physically speaking, you are really old."

"Gee thanks!" he laughed.

"You're welcome. But more seriously, on a mental level, you aren't a senior citizen. Except in your old fashioned ways sometimes I suppose, but that's not the same."

Bucky swallowed a bite of his own snack, listening to you.

"How do you feel about it?" you wondered.

"A mix of both. I'm not a modern-day 30 year old. I'm also not an elderly man. It's confusing at times. Don't really fit in anywhere."

You nodded in understanding.

"I've been wondering about something," you admitted. "Have you been catching up on what happened in the world?"

Bucky lowered his drink and swallowed.

"The important stuff's been covered, yeah."

"And what about... the less important? The banal?" You hesitated. "The pop culture?"

He winced, opened his mouth and closed it again.

"It's on the back-burner."

"Not interested?" you asked, brows furrowed.

"That's not it. It's just so much."

You nodded, chuckling. "Definitely."

After a pause, he wondered: "Why are you asking?"

"Just curious," you shrugged.

Bucky squinted, half a smile tugging at his lips.

"Okay, maybe I have a few recommendations," you admitted, avoiding his gaze.

"Really?" he mocked surprise. "Well why don't you show me a few things on our next date?"

You paused, eyes wide.

"Are you serious?"

Bucky nodded.

"If you'd like that, of course."

It was your turn to shake your head, excited by the prospect of a second date with this man.

"I've been having a great time with you tonight. I'd love to do it again."

"The pleasure would be mine, doll."

Your gazes locked.

At first out of pride, playing this as a game, you did not want to look away. Then you realized just how comfortable you felt. Bucky's eyes were warm, gentle, young yet reflective of everything he had lived through. For a second only, they flicked down, to your lips.

You could not help yourself, stealing a glance at his own. They were slightly parted, pink and inviting. Your heart rattled inside its cage at the prospect of closing the gap, leaning in closer.

His warm breath fanned over your skin, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You shivered, both nervous and excited.

However, your reverie was interrupted when Bucky cleared his throat. All of a sudden, you realized how cold it had gotten since the sun had sunk under the horizon. Even more so now that a breeze flew through your hair.

"I should get you home," Bucky said seriously, still maintaining your gaze.

You nodded. "Alright."

For the way back, a taxi was halted and guided to your apartment. The ride was quiet as you held hands on the backseat, creases around your eyes. When the car stopped in front of your building, Bucky stepped out with you and let the driver go.

Standing face to face, you thanked him for the evening.

"It was an honor," Bucky answered.

You chuckled.

"I hope to see you again very soon," he added.

"I'd love that."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Bucky held up your hand again and bent down to press a kiss onto your knuckle. Despite the déjà-vu, your heart fluttered nonetheless.

"Have a wonderful night."

"You too, Bucky."

"Trust me, I will. You'll haunt my dreams. I couldn't wish for anything better."

A wide smile split your face and you could not help yourself any longer. You walked closer to the man in front of you and pulled him down by the shoulder. Hoping to leave some sort of mark, you kissed his cheek, your free hand cradling the other side of his face.

When you pulled away, you whispered: "Goodnight, Bucky. Sweet dreams."

It was only once you'd passed the metal front door that you heard the soldier reply under his breath.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

[risrambles]

if 2024 sam wilson met 2014 sam wilson i fear it would be one of the funniest things ever

2024 sam: “so yeah, we help save the world and overcome many challenges as well as become captain america and go on to inspire millions despite the odds. also steve is lowkey dead and nat sacrificed herself”

2014 sam:

2014 sam: and the guy who ripped out the steering wheel on the highway?

2024 sam: congress

[jeonstellate]

timestamp: laurels

it’s 2:14 pm when you spot tony in the crowd.

๑彡 platonic!tony stark x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 adopted child!au — mentions of kidnapping — fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.7K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 i don’t think i’ve ever projected this hard on any of my works before, but— my sincere apologies bc i made yn a college of engineering student, like i am *insert exhaling emoji here*

๑彡 if you think tony’s a little too ooc here . . . that’s bc he’s based on endgame!tony — specifically his dynamic with morgan :D

You, [full name], are the child of Tony Stark— the Tony Stark. Not biologically in any way, but treated like one nevertheless.

A blessing it might be to remember whenever you’re around your adoptive father and everyone close to him, it’s also a curse the media loves to remind you every chance they get. They are extremely selective about when they consider you a Stark — and it all depends on the narrative they want to push. Effectively, you’re only a Stark in their eyes whenever you do something they deem unbecoming of the name.

Your father Tony does his best to shield you from all the negative attention that comes with being his child. His efforts go beyond suing reporters and paparazzi to oblivion — and assigning shadow bodyguards to keep you safe. He gives you the freedom to live normally as well, which includes bestowing you another name that flies under the radar. [First name] Carbonell.

[First name] Carbonell who just decided to participate in their university’s hack-a-thon on a whim. Who didn’t even tell their dad where they disappeared to on a weekend. And who just got called onto the makeshift stage.

"Congratulations," your old Assembly Language Programming professor greets you as you shake his hand and accept the 3D-printed trophy he’s offering you.

So much for only attending for the free merch.

(You came for the workshops, too, of course. But it was never in your plan to code something, especially with a clock set so tight, let alone submit something for judging. It just kind of . . . happened.)

You give a small, polite smile. "Thank you."

Once more, the crowd roars with applause. However, this time, it’s accompanied by a familiar celebratory whistle. Dad.

You locate him just before the shutter clicks. Your winning photo immortalizes your genuine reaction to spotting your dad in the crowd.

You run to him immediately after descending from the makeshift stage. He catches you in an embrace. "Congratulations, [nickname]." You melt into the hug as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "I’m proud of you."

Truth be told, you never imagined that you two would reach this point. You were convinced that you were meant to die in fourth grade, when HYDRA kidnapped you as petty revenge to your SHIELD agent biological parents. It was only by pure luck that the Avengers found you when they did — especially when they weren’t even looking for you in the first place. Although it wasn’t Iron Man who found you first, you clung to Tony since then because he reminded you of your biological father the most.

Tony, for his part, as he later admitted to you during your junior year of high school, had been hesitant to take you in himself. He cared for you a lot, to the point that he had been convinced you deserved a better guardian than he could ever be. Yet, at the same time, the thought of never seeing you again was too much to bear.

The two of you had to figure things out along the way. And you’d like to think you have done well in doing your respective best.

"Thanks, Dad." You tighten your hold on him, unwilling to let go just yet. "Means a lot."

Later, when your dad had enough photos of you with your trophy in his phone, he takes you to a hamburger joint. He had denied your request to have donuts for lunch, but he did promise to get a couple dozen for dessert.

"How did you know I was on campus?" You ask as you unwrap more of your burger.

Your dad, who hasn’t peeled off his photostatic veil and stripped off his disguise, nonchalantly relies, "JARVIS tattled on you."

You stop mid-bite because of that. "Dad! You said you removed that protocol!"

"I did." His burger suddenly appears the most interesting thing to look at. "I just asked JARVIS where you were because I wanted to have lunch."

Your eyes soften. University has been . . . a lot. You haven’t been able to join your dad for meals, much less hang around his workshop like you always did when you were younger.

You thought nothing it, really. Partly because you’ve been too busy to think about it, but mostly because you assumed he wouldn’t care. After all, you still live with him — and you two see each other in the hallways every-so-often at midnight.

It never occurred to you that your dad will miss you, even when he still has everything keeping him occupied. "I miss you, too, you know."

[appocalipse]

hi amyyyy!! i just saw that your requests are open and i got sooo excited 🤭🤭 so if you're up for it i have a bucky request where maybe r is a little shy, sweet person and has been secretly pining after him ever since they both started living in the avengers compound, so she decides to cook dinner for him one night just to do something nice for him?? just a little fluff for our sad beautiful tragic super soldier

our man does deserve some loving 😭 thank you for your request, lovely! | 1.4k words

"What the hell are you doing to that poor tomato?"

You whirl around from the kitchen counter, heart leaping into your throat at the unexpected sound of Bucky's voice behind you. He's standing there with an arched eyebrow, broad shoulders barely fitting through the entryway to the kitchen in the Avengers Compound, dark hair damp and wavy from a recent shower. His metal arm gleams under the bright lights as he reaches up to push his hair back from his face. Oh, man.

You shoot him a stern look, heartbeat returning to normal, and raise your tomato-covered knife in mock threat. "Don't sneak up on me like that," you warn. "I could've cut myself."

"I didn't exactly sneak," Bucky protests. "The floor squeaks like crazy in here."

"But you move like a cat...maybe I should put a bell on you."

He grins at that, the flash of teeth so unexpected that it leaves you blinking for a moment, mesmerized by the way it lights up his whole face in a gentle way completely at odds with his hard-edged features. "You think you could put a bell on me?"

He probably didn't mean to make that sound as flirtatious as it came out, you decide. The man can't help it if he's naturally devastating.

"I could, you know," you maintain, recovering your equilibrium with effort. You're generally hopelessly enamored with Bucky Barnes, but you do have some self-respect and you intend to keep it that way. "If I wanted to. But right now, I'm fighting with this poor, defenseless tomato."

He takes this as an invitation (which it absolutely wasn't; your limbs seem to lose their ability to function when he gets too close to you, you've noticed) and strides over to peer at the cutting board like you're conducting a vitally important experiment. "Looks like it's losing," he comments. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Uh...no. No, I—actually, I was making something for you, but now I think you don't deserve it."

You take a step back from him and his broad shoulders before your brain can melt into a useless puddle.

He glances at you like you've grown a second head. "For me?"

"Yeah, I thought—well, I like cooking. And Steve told me that you used to really like his mom's spaghetti when you were kids, so I thought—what? What's that look for?"

Bucky's still staring at you like he's never seen you before. His eyes are very blue and very disarming. "I just didn't know you liked to cook."

"You, uh, you don't have to eat it or anything if—if you don't want to," you manage, unsure how to respond to this odd reaction other than with a dash of humor, which you tend to default to in awkward situations. "I won't be offended."

"I'm not saying I don't want it." He sounds genuinely taken aback. "Of course I want it, who wouldn't want it? I just...I didn't know you cared about what I liked."

You consider pointing out that you do, in fact, care very much about what he likes, given that you've been pining for him in your quiet, hopeless way ever since he joined the Avengers team and made every brain cell you own spontaneously combust...but that would beat the point of your silly, juvenile crush remaining a secret. "Well, there's lots of things you don't know about me," you joke instead.

"I'd like to know more," he says.

It sounds surprisingly earnest. You're not sure what to do with that.

"You're only saying that because I'm making you food," you tease, defaulting to the safety of flippancy yet again. If Bucky knew how thoroughly and embarrassingly you've lost your heart to him, things would get really awkward, really fast, and you'd be forced to quit your job and move to a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness to live in lonely solitude.

Bucky gives you a small (and, of course, unfairly disarming) smile and leans his hip against the counter, hands tucked in his pockets as he regards you from underneath a sweep of dark hair. "I'm serious."

Your nerves feel like they're vibrating. "I'm really not that interesting," you insist, quickly putting the chopped tomatoes into a pot on the stovetop. You've already got onions and garlic sauteing, adding to the scent of warm tomato paste that's slowly coming together. "You'd get bored of me really fast if we hung out."

"I doubt that."

Is it your imagination or is there a slightly suggestive undertone to his words? "Bucky—"

He shakes his head, as though to cut you off. "How can I help?"

You look at him blankly. He seems very tall, standing this close to you, and warm, and solid, and his eyes are bluer than the sky outside, and the smell of him—a clean, masculine scent with a hint of cedarwood—is making your thoughts get jumbled up and skip tracks.

"Do you want me to stir the sauce or something?" he asks patiently, not looking like he minds standing here staring at you while you drool over him. Maybe he's having fun, you think, under all that quiet solemnity.

You find your tongue. "Yes. I mean no, no, that's okay. You can sit down and relax."

"I don't really do relaxing."

"Everyone should do relaxing."

Bucky gives a small huff of amusement, something close to a laugh. You catch yourself before you can stare at him in gooey-eyed adoration and focus on stirring the sauce, which is just beginning to bubble in the pot, releasing a rich scent into the air.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be—to make you uncomfortable," Bucky says abruptly. "I'm not good at...small talk. Or conversation in general. It's been a while."

"Since you've talked to someone?"

"No, since I've tried to hit on someone."

Your eyes widen. Bucky seems amused at your reaction, although his expression is back to its usual quiet, watchful look, with only the tiniest glint of humor in his blue eyes giving him away.

You could be misreading it, though.

But you're pretty sure you're not misreading it.

"Doll, you're burning the sauce."

"Shit!"

You turn back to the stovetop and jerk the saucepan away from the burner. The bottom of the sauce is definitely sticking to the pot, charred and smelling smoky, a dramatic change from its formerly bright red, succulent state that it had been when you last checked it five minutes ago.

How long have you been standing here silently staring at the pot? "Dammit." You grab a spoon and try to scrape the charred sauce off the bottom of the pot, wincing at the scraping sound. "Dammit."

Bucky's quiet chuckle sends goosebumps over your skin. "Dammit?"

"This was supposed to be a nice gesture," you lament, looking forlornly at the ruined sauce. "I—"

He plucks the spoon from your hand with a deft twist of his metal fingers, his body so close to yours that you can feel the warmth radiating from him and smell the cedar scent of him again. "You're really adorable when you're flustered."

Your jaw drops. Bucky smiles at your expression, dipping the spoon into the pot of sauce to take a small taste, then reaching past you to add a dash of something from a bottle on the countertop.

"B-bucky, I didn't—what are you doing?"

He takes another spoonful of sauce and holds it up in front of your face, cupping his hand underneath the spoon so it doesn't drip onto the floor. "Here, taste."

"That's for you."

"Taste."

You reluctantly take a small taste, because it's spaghetti sauce and you have absolutely no willpower where Bucky Barnes is concerned. "I burned it."

"Only the bottom," he says, dropping the spoon into the sink with a clatter. When you blink at him, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. "I, uh, I've learned to cook a few things when I was in Wakanda."

"I kind of feel like my self-esteem just took a massive blow," you murmur. "I tried—what? What are you doing?"

Bucky has spun you around to face the stovetop again, standing behind you and reaching over your head to stir the sauce again. The solid warmth of his chest is pressed against your back, and you have to lock your knees so they don't give out on you. He's really, really tall. And warm. And smells amazing.

"Helping," he murmurs, ducking his head to (oh God oh God oh God) speak the word in your ear, his breath ruffling your hair.

Somehow, you feel like it's much more than that.

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan: The evil inside me is rising yet again. I can't hold it in for much longer.

Wade: How about some freshly squeezed orange juice?

Logan: Nothing fucking short of souls of the damned-

Wade: We have the muffins I baked in the morning as well.

Logan: Ugh...Fine.

[olive-main]

I want a 1930s/40s Bucky x reader fic. Maybe bucky survives his fall but is sent home because he definitely shouldn’t be serving for a while and reader and bucky just living together and being in love and *screaming sounds*

Scars and All

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After Bucky’s fall readjusting to life had been a difficult task— but not impossible with his Doll by his side.

Wc: 1.7k

A/N: I loved this request so much bcs I love Bucky so much <3 A bit angsty at first but then it turns into tooth rotting fluff. Also this is kinda not edited? And don’t mind how I keep changing my pov in each fic…I’m still finding which one I prefer writing in :’)

——

The bustling streets of Brooklyn were a strange symphony you had grown accustomed to, a rhythm that melted with the laughter of children playing stickball and the cries of vendors shouting about everything from fresh bagels to bundles of fruits. You stood by the open window, a warm breeze carrying in the scent of the city, and watched as Bucky made his way down the sidewalk, his hat pulled low over his eyes, a half-smile playing at his lips. It was a smile you hadn’t seen nearly enough of since he returned, but on the rare occasion it did come, it was something you committed to memory.

It had been six months since Bucky was sent home. Six months since the army had delivered him back to Brooklyn, battered but alive. The day he’d returned, you had hardly recognized him. His face had been a map of new scars, his body thinner, his eyes dimmed with shadows. The Bucky you knew had always been the strongest person in the room. Seeing him broken, a man cracked open and laid bare by what he’d been through, had shattered something inside you too.

But somehow, you had found a way to put each other back together. Or at least you were trying.

You turned away from the window, busying yourself with folding laundry, but you couldn’t stop your thoughts from wandering. You had gotten used to the way Bucky sometimes flinched at loud noises or went quiet when he thought no one was looking, how he would wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, trembling and gasping like he was back on that godforsaken train. You had learned to navigate those moments, to hold him until the fear subsided, even when he refused to talk about it, even when he pulled away and wouldn’t meet your eyes.

The front door creaked open, and Bucky stepped inside, his hat in hand, his hair tousled by the wind. He paused for a moment, as if he needed to remind himself that this was real—that you were real, and this home was his sanctuary. Your heart clenched at the way he stood there, lost in thought.

“Bucky?” you called softly, your voice gentle.

He blinked, his blue eyes finding yours, and a slow smile spread across his lips. It was the kind of smile that had once come so easily to him, but now it felt forced every time you saw it. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, setting the paper bag of groceries on the table before wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was warm, his fingers digging in like he was afraid you might slip through his grasp.

You held him just as fiercely. “I missed you,” you whispered. He may have been gone for only a couple hours, but every moment spent away from him felt like an eternity.

Bucky let out a breath. “Missed you more Doll” he murmured, pressing his lips to your hair. His voice sounded almost desperate, the weight of his words heavy with something unsaid.

“I’m right here,” you assured him, running your fingers through his short hair. It wasn’t as long as it had been before the war, but it had started to grow back, thick and dark. Sometimes, he complained about the way the army had sheared it off, how he didn’t feel like himself anymore, how he couldn’t even recognize the man in the mirror.

You pulled back slightly to look at him, and that’s when you saw it—the haunted look behind his eyes, like he was caught between the present and some far-off memory that you couldn’t reach. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked like he might crumble.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice breaking. You cradled his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw. “Talk to me.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “Sometimes,” he started, his voice hoarse, “I can’t believe I’m really here. That I made it back.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And sometimes I wish I hadn’t.”

The confession hit you like a punch to the gut, and your vision blurred with tears. You knew he was struggling, but hearing him admit it out loud felt like a knife twisting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you pleaded, your fingers trembling as they held onto him. “Please, don’t.”

Bucky’s eyes opened, and the pain you saw there was unbearable. “I don’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Not when I’m with you. You’re the only thing that makes it worth it. But the nightmares… the fear… it’s like it never lets go.”

You pulled him into your arms, holding him like you could shield him from everything that haunted him. “We’ll get through it,” you promised, your voice thick with emotion. “We’ll get through it together, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere.”

He buried his face in your shoulder, and for a moment, the strong, indestructible Bucky Barnes you had once known was gone, replaced by a man who was desperately trying to hold himself together. You could feel the way his body shook with silent sobs, and you knew it was a rare and fragile moment of vulnerability, one that he’d never let anyone else see.

All you could do was hold him tighter, hoping that your love was enough to keep the darkness at bay, even if just for a little while.

——

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding Bucky as he unraveled in your arms. The silence between you was thick, broken only by the occasional sound of traffic outside or the laughter of kids echoing through the street. But eventually, his grip on you loosened, and he pulled back, his eyes red but no longer clouded by the same hopelessness.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that.”

You shook your head, gently catching his hand in yours before he could hide his emotions. “Don’t apologize,” you whispered. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for how you feel.” You gave his fingers a squeeze, feeling the roughness of his calluses, a reminder of the walls he had to build up around him.

He looked at you for a long moment, something softening in his gaze. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, you know that?” His voice had that familiar warmth, a hint of the old Bucky, the one who could charm his way out of trouble with an easy smile and a few sweet words.

You grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, which made him scrunch up his face in mock protest. “Oh, you’re a handful,” you teased. “But I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world, James Bucky Barnes. Not even when you leave your muddy boots all over the floor.”

He laughed—a real, genuine laugh—and it was like a glimpse of light breaking through the storm clouds. “Hey, now,” he protested, a playful glint returning to his blue eyes. “I was going to clean those up. Eventually.”

“Sure, you were,” you shot back, and before you knew it, he was pulling you in closer, his hands resting on your hips as he buried his face in your neck. He tickled you with his scruffy chin, making you squeal and squirm.

“Stop it!” you laughed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “Bucky, that’s not fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he teased, but his voice was full of affection, and the tension from earlier seemed to melt away.

You finally managed to escape his tickling, grabbing a dish towel from the table and playfully swatting at him. “Go on, then, soldier. Put away those groceries before they spoil. That’s an order.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin wide. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, the old spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. But instead of obeying right away, he leaned in and stole a kiss, soft and sweet, the kind that made your heart do a silly little flip.

You roll your eyes in annoyance , but your smile betrayed you.

Bucky’s laughter was what home sounded like, and for a moment, you could almost forget the shadows that still lingered. Because right now, in your tiny, cluttered Brooklyn apartment, he was here. You were here. And every little piece of happiness you carved out together felt like a victory.

As Bucky turned to finally unpack the groceries, he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way Doll,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement in his voice, “I picked up something special.”

Your curiosity piqued, and you stepped forward to peer into the paper bag. Inside, you found a small bouquet of flowers—lilies, the ones you loved most—and a bottle of your favorite wine.

“Bucky,” you said, your throat tightening with emotion. “You didn’t have to…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping this small act of love could reflect a fraction of what he truly felt for you. “I know,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I wanted to. I wanted you to know how special you are to me.”

You set the flowers down on the table and wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close. “You’re my something special,” you whispered, and you felt the way his breath hitched, how he melted into your embrace.

For the rest of the afternoon, the two of you danced around each other, cooking a simple but perfect meal together, laughing when Bucky burned the garlic bread and insisted it was still “edible.” When the sun dipped below the horizon, you dimmed the lights, put on the new record, and danced slowly in the living room, the music crackling through the old speaker.

Bucky’s arms circled around you, pulling you in close. “You know,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours, “I think I’m the luckiest man in the world. Scars and all.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your love for practically radiating off you. “And I love every single part of you,” you said, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Scars and all.”

Wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth and light you had built together, one piece at a time.

——

Constructive criticism and feedback always welcome. Thank you beauties ~ <3