Steve: *makes Fun Of Bucky*

electric

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Flirtationship has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn’t last long when it comes to you. 

warnings: unprotected sex (18+), teasing, nudity, semi-public fingering, oral sex, fucking against a window, ass grabbing and a couple of spanks, some orgasm denial, swearing, alcohol use but the sex is all consensual 

word count: 6.3k

a/n: This is some gratuitous smut that I wrote a while ago! It’s mostly proof-read. Feedback is always appreciated!!

masterlist

“If you squat any lower he might just have a heart attack.” Natasha’s quip comes from beside you and you fight the urge to face her. Don’t dare risk the chance of catching Bucky’s gaze from the corner of your eye. 

As the weather shifted to summer, it wouldn’t be long before the glaring sun and burning heat became far too overwhelming. So when the sun shone bright with a cool breeze, the Compound gym was ignored with ease in favour of the spacious lawns. 

Yoga mats are laid out as the sun rises closer to its peak, and you and Natasha are quick to move from stretches to simple exercises with resistance bands pulled taut around your thighs. 

Keep reading

I never wanted it to end but this was sooooo good

6 • Operation: No More Operations | OPERATION: FAKING IT ...?

6 • Operation: No More Operations | OPERATION: FAKING IT …?

Description: Your suspension is spent collecting on your IOU's from Tony, a trip to Wakanda & Whale Watching then some happily ever after for a man who deserves the world.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Cute Bucky, Fluffy Bucky, Bucky with children, swearing, all the smut, p in v, unprotected, oral sex (M + F), public sex, Daddy kink, mentions of choking, unprotected sex.

A/N: I can only apologise how long this has taken to get finished, I have been super busy for the last few weeks! Sad to say goodbye to these two.

Series Masterlist

[Previous Chapter]

‘Burtie stop it, no! Leave little Stevie alone’

You had been in Wakanda for three days & your pup was obsessed with playing with Bucky’s adopted goats, he had been so nervous that they wouldn’t remember him, he spent the entire flight anxiously pacing the Quinjet until you decided to distract him by crouching between his legs & pulling out his cock, it didn’t take long for him to get hard & with a single kiss on the tip he was ready to go. ‘Fuck sweetheart, don’t stop’ he wound your hair around his metal fist & guided you back & forth on his length, you couldn’t help slipping your hand between your legs, moaning as your finger brushed past your swollen clit to plunge a digit into your wet hole, the sinful noise he made as your whimpers vibrated on his cock & his utterings of ‘Yes Bambi, touch your pussy.’ ‘Such a good girl, taking me so well’ ‘Do that thing I like, fuucck, you’re so good with your mouth.’ spurred you on to add another finger into your soaking cunt.

You hadn’t ever enjoyed giving head in previous relationships, but with Bucky it was possibly one of your favourite things to do, to see this big bulky Super Soldier crumble before you & inflict such levels of pleasure that it somehow felt like you were receiving it all made sense as to why he loved eating you out every chance he got. 

Climaxing whilst not biting Bucky’s cock was a skill you had mastered quickly, as always encouraged by the filth that tumbled out of his mouth ‘you gonna cum on your fingers, that pussy is begging for me to fill it, you’re going to be dripping with my cum meeting a king darlin, everyone will know you’re mine.’ You spasmed around your digits in utter bliss, your eyes rolling back as the roaring pleasure took over & once your glistening fingers were pushed between Bucky’s lips he was a gonner, tasting your sweet nectar pushed him over the edge shooting his cum into the back of your throat, holding you until he had completely emptied himself into your mouth, you held out your cum-free tongue to show him you had swallowed it all, it had become a habit & his praises of ‘that’s my good girl’ & ‘lick every last drop honey’ ramped up your need for his cock to be buried in you. 

There were many times you cursed the super soldier serum, mainly because of his super hearing & the fact he could hear you fall over & rush to help whatever ailment had resulted then try not to laugh at how you tripped, or the conversations you would have with Burtie early in the mornings about how much you loved him & his dad. But you loved that serum when, mere moments after he had climaxed, he watched as you licked your lips of any remaining evidence he had been in your mouth & he was ready for you again. Not even waiting a second for you to catch your breath before swiftly lifting you up onto his lap, pushing your knickers aside & impaling you on his rock hard length.

You wouldn’t ever get use to his size, each time, even soaking wet the stretch felt like nothing else, ‘dripping for me darlin’ you nodded your head completely fucked out as you took him all the way, ‘Wanna be buried in you every day, fuck your pussy is heaven’ you couldn’t even form words as he was thrusting his hips in rhythm with you bouncing on his cock, ‘my good fucking girl, all mine.’ He felt you pulse around him, gripping him perfectly, his vibranium hand moved to your throat, your eyes snapped to his, for a split second he thought he had gone too far but the grip your pussy had on his length told him otherwise, between brutal thrusts he panted, ‘tell me you’re mine Bambi.’ ‘look at you, fucked you dumb sweetheart’ ‘can’t even speak, tell me, be my good girl.’ As his fingers gripped your throat tighter the pressure building was like nothing else, you were hurtling to a brain numbing orgasm but managed to moan out some form of answer, ‘yo… yours D..addy. fuck gonna cum.’

‘Cum on my cock darlin’, fuck gripping me so tight. My good girl.’

That’s all you needed to explode into heaven as he fucked up into you at super soldier speed, immediately releasing your throat when he painted your walls with his seed holding you tightly against him riding you both through your releases. 

It was in these moments holding your spaced out being against his where he held back the most, the whispered declarations of love into your ear didn’t feel enough to really show you how much he loved you, he wanted to run to the nearest chapel with you over his shoulder & marry you on the spot, anything else was not enough.

Being greeted by T’Challa, The Queen & Shuri was a moment you wouldn’t forget, they were so gracious & generous in their hospitality & the respect they treat your Super Solider with, as promised you had been filled by Bucky & were battling your pelvic floor the entire time to make sure nothing escaped after he had insisting on putting your underwear in his pocket. 

Everyone was so welcoming to you both & Shuri was an immediate ally, you held back from the rest of the group to walk with her as you made your way into the palace & expressed how grateful you were that she had helped Bucky, she knew about all about Gerald & wanted to show you her lab during your visit. She of course told you all the embarrassing tales when Bucky had his new arm fitted & how she loved being the bane of his life since & how he always spoke about you on their calls since he left. Bucky later told you more about his sister Rebecca & how Shuri felt akin to the little sister he missed so much, although he could do without all the sass she handed his way. 

Okoye lead a Dora Milaje demonstration, they were so majestic in their movements & you were enamoured by their power & skill, Bucky didn’t even dispute the fact that they would be able to take him down, you made him swear not to tell them about how you got shot, if it was possible to hero-worship someone as a grown adult Okoye was definitely it for you & you didn’t want her thinking of you as an idiot who shot herself air guitaring with a gun. 

After your welcome you were taken to the place Bucky was itching to go the most, the place where he felt most at peace before meeting you; his hut with his goats. The reunion was exactly what you were hoping for, his face lit up with sheer joy as they ran towards him, yes you cried & Shuri had to upgrade the storage on your phone you took so many videos & photos.

It was a privilege to witness Bucky in Wakanda, you hadn’t ever seen him as relaxed & care free, he said it was down to the shield protecting the entire country so there was no possibility of a Hydra threat, but you knew it was because he was at home here. He was the White Wolf, no one thought of him as a monster, they saw him for who he really was, a man capable of an unmatched determination to fight his programming, a strength to overcome the injustices against him for the greater good & a selfless humble gentleman. 

With the sun on his face & breeze through his hair, no missions, no fighting, just a stillness that he hadn’t ever had time for in his hundred years of living with the love of his live by his side, he was at peace. Bucky insisted on taking you to the lake for the first sunrise together, you both cried, such a cliché but it felt like a sign of something new, a new beginning for you both as the sun broke through the dawn, illuminating the African plains as far as the horizon, the haze reflecting from the water made you believe in the mirage of the desert, you hadn’t ever seen anything as beautiful.

He found the tranquillity by the lakeside opened him up to you far more than he had before, he told you about his family, his Ma who would have loved you dearly, details he had remembered & the parts Steve had filled in, his life before the war, the happiness of his youth but he also recalled the heart wrenching parts of his existence that tore you in two when he spoke of the horrors of what he really went through, but you listened, held him & let him speak. He always felt scared of telling people about his captivity, even the tiny parts he did share, but trusting you with his painful life was effortless, you didn’t just listen to him, you really heard what he was telling you. He wanted you to know the magnitude behind his words that he would go through it all again to be right where he was & as each memory was vocalised it was like the weight he was carrying left his soul.

He made sure to spend the first few days introducing you to all the people who had helped him during his de-programming, everyone seemed overjoyed at the progress he had made since he left especially at how enamoured he appeared to be with you. The most time was spent with the children who had given Bucky reason to get up in the mornings, they had all grown & enthused about how they used to help with his hair before he got his new arm after you asked about his infamous manbun. 

--

Bucky had been in the city all day having his arm recalibrated, you were under strict instructions to not attend so that some actual work could be done & Shuri wasn’t spending the entire time talking to you, you decided on staying at the hut the Wakandan’s had kept vacant long after its previous occupant had returned to the outside world. 

Despite the country being more technically advanced than anywhere beyond its borders the hut was a rural relic & completely isolated from the high-rise city you had first laid your eyes on when you arrived in the country. The hut stood at the bottom of a sprawling valley sitting beside a tranquil lake with not a single soul for miles, apart from the miniature goats roaming the land, the three-room home was all you needed.

You had spent the morning tidying then tending to the goats whilst trying to keep Burtie from constantly diving in the river, if Bucky asked you to retire here & raise your family you would in an instant, the silence & serenity was like nothing you had ever experienced.

The hotter you got the more you thought Burtie was onto something with the river, the water was so calm & inviting, you were re-assured by several locals that there were no swamp monsters or things that could eat you hiding in the depths. Knowing there was no one for miles you shed your clothes & began walking along the pier peering down into the water, it was crystal clear & still, you almost felt bad disturbing the serene setting, but you arched your back & dove in.

The crisp water was heaven, Burtie wasn’t far behind, diving in trying to swim to you frantically like you needed his help, you reassured him with calming head strokes & nose kisses that you were ok & it was enough for him to paddle away only to run up the bank & do the same thing over again. He was the other love of your life for sure, the number one contender though had returned & was watching from afar smiling to himself every time Burtie swam straight to you for some love & praise. Bucky started stripping the layers of his clothing as he stealthily moved towards the lake, silently entering the water,  you were startled suddenly by a splash, you whipped your head around trying to see where it came from assuming Burtie was up to no good but he was basking in the sun on the pier, you noticed the ripples in the surface of the water quickly approaching where you were stood, this was the swamp monster you were afraid of. Your breathing picked up as your heartbeat increased, frozen you awaited your fate only to be hoisted up out of the water on a very familiar pair of shoulders.

You half screamed half laughed ‘Buckkkkyy, aaaaah put me down.’

He somehow lifted you up & spun you around still on his shoulders & with your thighs wrapped around his head burying himself in your damp mound, mumbling ‘Still want me to put you down Bambi?’

Your fingers found themselves gripping onto his hair to steady yourself as his tongue found your clit, ‘Fuck, don’t stop.’ His strong hands held you upright as he continued his relentless sucking & lapping of your pussy, you could feel the pressure building as you held on to your Super Solider for dear life, he knew your body better than any man you had ever been with so could get you to orgasm effortlessly with his mouth, he knew exactly what you loved. 

He could feel you tensing, probably reluctant to relax on his shoulders enough to let go properly, he shifted his mouth, ‘Cum for me Bambi, you won’t fall, I got you.’

He tightened his grip on your back before he went straight back to work clamping his lips around your clit & sucking with everything he had, your body relaxed & let the growing climax rush over you exploding as you ground down on the mouth attached to your pussy, of course you were held steadily throughout & when Bucky could feel you completely spent he lowered you down & wrapped your legs around him so he could keep you both afloat.

‘Hi’

‘Hi.’

He kissed you so firmly you thought you’d bruise, you swiped your tongue across his mouth cleaning up the mess you’d made of it, you didn’t waste any time reaching down to feel his bare cock standing to attention under the surface, you wanted to sit straight on it but he held you tightly, so it was just out of reach. You practically whined when he stopped you the second time.

‘In a minute Bambi, not seen my sweet girl all day.’

‘How was your appointment?’

‘All shiny & new again, Shuri said hi.’

‘Missed you today.’

‘Missed you too honey.’

As you were held in his arms clutching to him like the Koala you were you mind drifted.

‘Bucky Bear, did you know there’s a kind of fish in the amazon that swims up men’s urethra’s?’

‘Shhhh Bambi, that’s enough smart words from you.’

His mouth was battling with you talking but you carried on. ‘it’s true though, I should have asked if they have them here too. You do realise a urethra is a man’s pee hole.’

His eyes widened & you were swiftly carried out of the lake, once you were both secure & demon fish free in your orifices he laid you on the side of the water, the soft grass cushioning your body as he lay over you.

The kisses being pressed against your drying skin were making you squirm with need, your hands moved down between your bodies to line him up with you, ‘need you in me.’

He wasted no time pushing into you, connecting your lips as he bottomed out, ‘can never say no to you Bambi.’

Bucky never felt like he needed to count his blessings with you, he knew how lucky he was that you put aside every bad thing he had done in his life & loved him all the same but being back in Wakanda showed him how far he had come since the day he left. It was all because of you & him wanting to be someone deserving of you, it was no coincidence, he met you as soon as he got back, it had all felt too soon to be free & be able to walk around after what he did but then you would drag him out of his self-inflicted isolation, get up to mischief & ring him to come rescue you. You always needed him & he always needed you to rescue him from himself. Why had he wasted so much time, as he continued to pump into you, he could feel the emotions stirring, bubbling & he was doing all he could to stay in that moment, you underneath him looking as ethereal & fucked out as ever.

‘Not gonna last honey, can feel you squeezing me.’

‘Cum with me Bucky.’

 His hips picked up speed & he drove your orgasm into overdrive, taking over every sense as it slammed into you, picking him up & taking him along the way as your cunt fluttered & pulsed around his cock.

He was basking in the afterglow, your heart rate was returning to its normal pace & your mind coming back to him, he loved these moments the most, holding you tightly to him seeing your hazy eyes gain some focus, then the second you look up at him it’s like the world is as it should be. 

You were both still quiet, hands caressing each other & kisses placed wherever your lips touched & he could see the gears in your head turning waiting for you to say whatever random thing popped into your head.

‘Hey Bucky’

‘Yes Bambi’

‘Would you rather be able to speak to animals or speak every language in the world?’

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, you lay in his arms so perfectly anticipating his answer to the ridiculous question & he wanted to thank every god ever worshipped that one of them sent an angel to earth for him, you couldn’t have come from anywhere else.

‘Marry me.’

You studied his eyes looking for any hint of deception, but all that reflected back was sincerity, love & devotion, you felt the tears clouding your vision from this hunk of a man so scowly & rough on the outside always managing to show you how soft he really was, you couldn’t care less that you’ve only just got together, people would think you’re nuts but when you know, you know. 

The smile spread on your face. ‘Yes’

He crashed his mouth into yours, he hadn’t ever felt as happy in his life & reached into his soggy sock to pull out a ring & you couldn’t help laughing.

‘How long has that been in there?’

‘I bought it the day after you told me you loved me, been carrying it round with me since.’

He slipped it on your left hand & you took a minute to admire the beautiful ring sitting on your finger, it looked like a 1920’s design, with a central diamond surrounded by rubies.

It took your breath away at how perfectly it sat on your finger, like it belonged there, ‘Vintage, like you.’

He poked your side & giggled along with you. ‘Definitely not Tony Stark approved. I asked him for permission but told him the ring was already bought.’

‘I love it so much, it’s perfect, you’re perfect.’

‘Not even close to perfect darlin’, but I promise you that I will try to be for you for the rest of our lives.’

--

To say Bucky’s Sea legs were shaky was an understatement, he was fine on Tonys yacht spending the days spread out on deck or spreading you out below deck, his jokes of ‘when the boat is a rocking…’ made him giggle each time as you rolled your eyes at his total dad joke. Three weeks in Wakanda flew by & you reluctantly left with the promises of returning as soon as you could, neither of you wanted to leave but the yacht & whale watching trip had been planned especially for you so cancelling wasn’t an option.

The morning boat trip to the Sea of Cortez had been choppy, Bucky had a few bouts of nausea but you were just bouncing off the deck with excitement, seeing a real life whale had been your dream as long as you remembered. The bay was stunning, the turquoise blue of the crystal-clear ocean reminded you so much of your beloved Super Soldier’s eyes, the early morning sun was bouncing off the surface & beneath a rich abundance of life, the fishes mesmerised you as they moved in perfect harmony darting along the sea floor.

Towards the horizon you saw the first breach, it was breath-taking & you screamed for Bucky to come & watch, you wanted to share this memory with him, to remember such a monumental day with the love of your life. Having seen the whale’s, the captain turned on the engine to get closer to the action, you were buzzing in excitement as you headed towards them.

It wasn’t long before a humongous humpback whale breached right at the side of the boat, you couldn’t breathe as it crashed back into the water shaking the vessel you were clinging to, you realised Bucky was probably right about you demanding a blue whale as a pet, it definitely wouldn’t fit in the pool back at the tower.

You were startled when one of the whales surfaced right next to you, its exhale through it’s blow hole hit you right in your face & the stench made you want to throw up, rude. After a few moments catching its breath, it disappeared down & then under the boat, your eyes widened & Bucky noticed your pulse sky rocketing.

You turned to him, he was expecting a beaming smile but you looked terrified ‘I think we should go home now, I miss Burtie.’

‘We just got here Bambi, why?’

‘I told ya, miss our baby, please can we go?’ you tugged on his arm & he could see the panic overtaking your face, as he turned away to speak to the captain you clung to him.

‘Just gonna tell the Captain honey. You stay here, ok?’

Your eyes were fixed on the ocean but your reluctantly nodded & let go of his arm. The journey back was tense, Bucky knew something had happened, but he didn’t want to push you when you were still looking so terrified & stuck on a boat, he waited until you were back at your hotel to get to the bottom of what happened.

You were busy packing the cases, throwing in anything you could find to finish & get out of there as soon as possible, you could see him watching you from the corner of your eye, you contemplated getting down on your knees to avoid talking about it but today wasn’t your day, ‘You gonna tell me what happened back there honey?’ he leaned on the door frame with his arms crossed failing to look as stern as possible.

‘Bucky, I don’t want to talk about it ok, just leave it.’ He hadn’t ever experienced you speaking to him like that, maybe he should have left it alone, but it broke his heart that you weren’t comfortable telling him something.

‘No Bambi, we don’t keep things from each other so please tell me what’s wrong.’ He sounded so hurt that you wouldn’t tell him which only made your guilt feel so much worse about this entire trip.

‘No … you’ll just make fun of me.’ You shook your head hoping he would drop it so you wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

‘No, I won’t.’ 

‘Yeah, you will, all the guys always do.’

‘I’m not one of them, when I have ever made fun of you?’

You took a second to think, even when you told him about how you got shot he only kissed it better & yes might have checked the safety was on with every gun you were near but being safe is a good thing … ‘Never.’

‘Exactly so can my future wife please tell me why we left so soon when it was such a big dream of yours to see a whale in the wild.’ He had slowly made his way towards you & held your face in his so you would look in his eyes.

You paused, you felt silly keeping it from him, he might even tell everyone what happened then you would never hear the end of it until Natasha had interrogated you for the truth, you let out a deep sigh, ‘The whale, it went under the boat & I freaked out thinking it would surface underneath us & we’d be stranded on its back & I was scared, ok?’

He rested his head against yours, he hated that you were scared & didn’t tell him ‘Bambi, I would never ever let anything happen to you.’

‘I know but there’s some things you can’t stop happening, a giant whale is one. If you think about it, it could just swallow us whole. We’d be trapped in its mouth; I don’t want to die in a Whale’s mouth even if you’re there with me.’

‘I’d punch it, give it an uppercut. Wouldn’t stand a chance sweetheart.’

You giggled at how ridiculous he was being, he wrapped you in his big arms & looked down on you like you loved. ‘I never ever want you to be scared of anything when you’re with me, if you are I’ve not done my job right.’

‘You can’t protect me from everything.’

‘Just watch me.’

--

It took 6 whole months before Tony agreed to you having another vacation, you were on the brink of doing something to get you both suspended before he caved & gave you the keys to his log cabin. Turns out log cabins weren’t really your thing, yes, the aesthetic was Pinterest perfect, the way the rich green leafed trees overhung the solid wood abode with mist surrounding the bark driveway almost ironically like someone had desaturated your eyeballs to look at it all murky & mysterious. 

It was just so boring, no tv, yes, all the fucking one could muster & you both were practically chaffed at this point but a hike? Yeah, that didn’t end well, falling on a flat surface is a regular occurrence so why a trail with slippery rocks was a sparkling idea of Bucky’s you’ll never know, tumbling down a cliffside hurts as much as you think it will. Yes, you had your beefy super solider scrambling after you to rescue you or more accurately pull you out of the mud at the bottom of the cliff then carry you back & patch you up but it still sucked. Plus, it was cold & damp & unless Bucky was wrapped around you, your teeth were in a permanent state of chattering. 

The yacht was a sun kissed distant memory at this point, you had proposed the idea of zipping yourself in Bucky’s hoodie & slipping your legs down the front of his joggers so you could steal his warmth, but he insisted the height difference was the sticking factor of the plan, instead he decided to light the fire & lay you down on the plush rug that sat in front of the hearth.

‘Always wanted to do this darlin’, lay you out & kiss every inch of your skin.’

You were already desperate for him as he started pressing his lips on your shoulder moving across your décolletage, savouring the places that he knew drove you wild evidenced with how you body bucked up as soon as his tongue lapped your skin. You could feel every smile your reactions pulled from him against your hot tingling skin, the fierceness from the fire pricked at you but every ember of warmth within you was systematically being delivered by the super solider dedicating himself to your pleasure.

You were writhing, dripping & begging him to kiss you were you needed by the time he reached your hip, you hands wandered so many times he had to hold them down berating you for being a bad girl. You were ready to call him daddy, sir, his lordship at this point to get him to co-operate, ‘Daddy, please it hurts.’

‘Where does it hurt sweetheart.’

‘My pussy, need you to kiss it better.’

Hmmm is that right.

‘Yeah, please I’ll do anything.’

‘Anything?’

‘Yes.’

The thoughts were flooding to his head, you’d agreed to marry him already, probably was too soon for a baby but the thought was driving him wild, to have you carrying his child but he wouldn’t ever take advantage of your desperation like that. 

He moved his lips south, at a faster pace than he had been going up til now & met your dripping cunt, he could never say no to you.

‘Gonna wish you’d not asked honey, you’ll be begging me to stop.’

You were by the fourth orgasm, he swore you had squirted you insisted you probably peed on him a little & it was his own fault for not letting you go but here he was still not releasing you from his grasp as he tried to coax another climax from your swollen overstimulated cunt.

‘I know you’ve got another Bambi, can feel it.’

‘Please just fuck me Sir, please Sargent.’

‘Oh, I will be, but I need another from you, you gonna be my good girl.’

His lips clamped around your clit & his fingers returned to your sweet spot & somehow again you could feel another orgasm ripping through you, ‘yes, yes, yes.’ Your body spasmed, twitched & convulsed around his mouth as your mind entered another realm, you sensed he had finally released your arms & you lay there waiting for him to fill you like only he could. 

‘On all fours.’ The sternness of his deep commanding voice thrilled you into moving, your arms & legs were like jello & Bucky helped move your limbs, you were face down unable to see him as he marvelled at the sight in front of him, your swollen cunt was on display perfectly awaiting him, running his aching cock along your dripping pussy had you jerking forward, tremoring from the anticipation. He gripped onto your hips & pulled you back plunging his cock into your tight warm cunt, ‘fuck, such a good girl for me aren’t you Bambi.’

‘Yes sir, fuck me harder.’

‘What do you say?’

‘Pl..please daddy, pound me.’

He almost came at you so sweetly begging but he held on to speed his hips, if his girl wanted a pounding, she would get one, he let go fully, he’d fucked you hard before but this position & angle he was slamming his hips into yours.

You lost the use of words from the sheer force bucky was using, he wrapped your hair around his hand & pulled you up to him, so your back was against his chest.

‘You like it rough don’t you my sweet girl, can feel you squeezing me. You gonna make a mess on my cock? Touch yourself, show me what a filthy girl you are.’

You connected your fingers to your clit, somehow keeping a rhythm with Bucky’s stuttering hips, even both on your knees he towered over you giving him the perfect view over your shoulder of your tits bouncing at every thrust & your hand between your legs rubbing yourself exactly like he told you, such a good girl.

‘Gonna cum.’

‘Hold on sweet girl.’ He gripped you tight & pounded into you brutally, once, twice, three times, somehow deeper each time, you were squeezing his cock with everything you had as you tried to stave off your climax, Bucky practically spluttered out ‘cum for me Bambi.’ Once the wave of his climax hit him pulling you with him, he felt your body crumple as he released into you laying you both down as his hips continued to pump you full of him until every drop was spent.

After you had both led by the fire whispering ‘I love you’s’ to each other, Bucky reluctantly made his way to the kitchen to get you both something to eat, you were lost in thought when he re-joined you on the floor mimicking the way you were led.

‘Bucky Bear?’

‘Yes Bambi?’

‘Did you know some turtles tickle each other’s faces when they’re mating?’

You looked so shy saying it, he really felt like the luckiest guy on the planet, ‘Do you want me to tickle your face Doll?’ he couldn’t help poking your side to tickle you as the thoughts he was having earlier swirled in his head. 

You shrugged your shoulders being so damn irresistible laying on your front, bottom in the air legs crossed swinging ‘maybe’.

He rolled onto you, swarming you, engulfing you entirely with his body as he leaned on his elbows & gently tickled your face kissing down your neck from above as he pressed you into the rug, your laugh filling him to the brim. How can such a gorgeous nerdy idiot like you let a big brutish shell of a man into your heart? 

--

The Brooklyn brownstone was finally ready, it took every ounce of Bucky’s assassin training to keep it a secret, it took months of renovations to get the place to the standard he insisted your home should be, he stopped short of adding an elevator at Tony’s incessant taunting that you still had all four limbs so an elevator in a three-floor home was a bit OTT even for the eccentric billionaire. So far Bucky had kept his promise about taking care of you & giving you the life you deserved, Tony was actually impressed at the level of detail he insisted on & the purpose it gave the old man, as expected you were oblivious & just going along with whatever plan was in place to distract you whilst he attended to whichever house crisis occurred that day.

You had been searching for a house together having been very rudely evicted from the Tower after the whole control room incident; did you know when Bucky had you bent over the control desk that your tits had pressed the broadcast button?, no. Did the whole tower hear you calling Bucky ‘Daddy’ & that you requested him to ‘fuck me dumb’?, perhaps. Did it warrant the meeting where every ‘indiscretion’ you had committed was laid bare so to speak with HR?, probably. But being caught 27 times wasn’t a valid reason for the eviction you argued, no one was really in the tower to hear the broadcast & yes, a few buttons may have been damaged when you rode him on the desk, but no one actually saw anything. You retreated to your apartment with your tails between your legs once they brought up the security footage, apparently arming weapons that could cause significant damage was a no no. Prudes. 

It was an easy decision for Bucky to move into your place, he hated his grey miserable apartment & the idea of spending nights alone having been inseparable from you for months filled him with dread, he was sure he was outstaying his welcome when you mentioned his apartment a couple of times in passing. You were so sad when he announced he was going back to his place, waking up every day in his arms was your new norm & the idea of going without didn’t fly with you, so you gently suggested there was no need for you both to have apartments & that he should just move in with you, he wrapped you in his arms so incredibly tight with sheer relief that you swore he broke a rib.

He had planned the surprise meticulously, every event in your relationship thus far had been spontaneous, the declarations of feelings, physical exchanges, his proposal & although buying the house next door to Ms Alice was a frantic split-second decision having committed to buying it on the spot then subsequently having to beg Tony to give him the money, the rest he needed to be planned, intentional, as serious as he was about you. 

When Bucky suggested an afternoon in Brooklyn you jumped at the chance, he had been so busy recently with missions here, there & everywhere, you were one mission away from putting a suggestion in the suggestion box about people learning more languages so that Bucky could have a break, not that they took on board your suggestion for the suggestion box. Spending a day in the bustling streets snuggled up to your Super Solider was perfect, you had lunch in your favourite restaurant, played some footsie under the table, had a walk along the river, fucked in an alleyway, your favourite alleyway & then he slowly guided you to where you bought your puppy.

He was suddenly overcome by nerves, what if this was too much, he knew you liked being taken care of but was this too controlling? He felt the panic rise suddenly as you were questioning why you were here, then getting excited that Burtie was getting a little brother. He snapped himself out of his panic before he had to break your heart about not getting another puppy, any longer you would have named it & envisaged your lives together with another dog.

‘No honey, Burtie isn’t getting a little brother just yet.’

‘Oh.’ The disappointment in your voice was palpable & still managed to break his heart, he would just arrange with Ms Alice in the morning to reserve a puppy from the next litter.

‘Well we’ve been looking for a bigger place for some time & I heard one has come onto the market.’

You gasped, ‘Ms Alices?’ 

God damn it, this wasn’t going to plan, Bucky now had to disappoint you again.

He shook his head sorrowfully, ‘No honey,’

‘Oh.’ There it was again, fuck, Bucky you are such a fuck up.

‘Come with me Bambi.’

He grabbed your hand & led you up the stone steps to the house next door to Ms Alice, the keys were already in his palm as you reached the top.

The pastel blue door opened to a foyer of subway tiles & an intricate mosaic floor tile, as you looked up a further door stood with half stained glass & dark cherry wood, a console table was waiting for the keys to be deposited & brass hooks for your jackets were lined up perfectly on the dark blue wall.

You gasped as you looked to your left to see a mid-century lounge, filled with plants, warm hues & a beautiful original fireplace, the room was open plan into the next space which had the biggest walnut dining table sat on top of a beautiful Persian rug, the floors were original herringbone & you couldn’t even digest the stunning pastel kitchen that was wrapped around the back of the house complete with crittall doors to the patio & the garden beyond.

You hadn’t said a word as you drifted from one room to another in a trance at how perfect the place was, you hadn’t even seen the upper levels, you would sleep down here if they were a disaster, you definitely wouldn’t be able to afford it. 

‘It’s ours.’ Bucky shyly whispered, all excitement had been drained from him from your silence, you always talked, always. This wasn’t a good sign & he couldn’t help himself but fill the silence, ‘Sorry if you’re disappointed, if you want anything changing let me know or we can just find something else. Fuck, I should have asked you what you wanted, I just looked at your pinboard page & went from there but why didn’t I think you would want to pick everything? Tony said you would enjoy decorating but I said you’d get overwhelmed & hide in Gerald’s closet house & get him to keep fetching you coffees until you were buzzed enough to pick, I didn’t want your heart going through all the additional stress, you’re not a Super Solider like me & I need to keep you with me until I die, you can’t die first. We’ll just go back to your place & rethink, it’s fine.

You were speechless, you should have stopped him rambling & you felt so bad that you couldn’t vocalise how you were feeling, how overwhelmed you were that this hunk of a man was really yours & had spent time making the home of your dreams.

You turned to him, ‘This is what you’ve been doing & not going on missions?’

‘Yeah Doll, look I know I lied & I swear I haven’t ever lied about anything else to you ever, I mean that, cross my heart.’

‘& you did all this by yourself?’

‘Well Tony helped with the financing & pointing me in the direction of your pinboard thing & where to find people to do things.’ He shrugged, completely dismissing his efforts to protect himself for the disappointment he was about to face.

‘Pinterest.’

‘Yeah that.’

‘Well, you know me better than Tony because I wouldn’t have been able to do all this.’

At least he held some pride in knowing you better than Tony, but he still didn’t know if you liked it, the suspense was eating at him.

‘Like I said we can look for something else or change anything.’

You shook your head, ‘Bucky it’s perfect. You’re perfect. Fuck, how did I get so lucky having you to look after me like this? This is our home? For real? Am I dreaming?’

‘It’s ours.’ This time it came out stronger, you could hear the pride in his voice & the smile that was now carved on his face.

‘Show me the rest.’

‘Well, there’s the basement I figured could be a place for you to work, I thought I’d leave you & Tony to do that space, the top floor has three bedrooms all with their own bathroom, the second floor has our bedroom, walk in closet & bathroom, a guest room, then there’s this little room next to ours, not big enough for a bedroom, maybe an office but I’ve not touched it yet. What do you think we should do with it Bambi?’

Life in your home you shared with Bucky was good, to have met someone who entertained every wild idea & joined you with as much enthusiasm as you did was a concept you wouldn’t ever get used to, even when you thought back to being friends he was always the same. Whether it was the time he drove you to Niagra Falls because you didn’t believe it could possibly freeze despite seeing a live feed & Bucky explaining that no, the feed hadn’t frozen it wasn’t moving because the waterfall was actually frozen or when you insisted he join you looking for bigfoot in Virginia after you watched a YouTube video & convinced yourself you solved where to find one, he didn’t even get mad when you ended up getting lost & calling for Tony to rescue you both.

You looked at the home he had created, it was your peaceful place, over time the details had been updated, trinkets added, photos scattered the side tables of you & your Super Solider in various stages of foreplay caught on camera at functions you had attended which had become a running joke, including the one of you emerging from a cleaning closet that Nat had stood guard in front of when you told her you were trying for a baby. Next to you sat your favourite, the photo you begged Bucky to take with you & your now fully grown dog stood next to the notches on the door frame with a height chart of Burtie’s growth carved with Bucky’s knife, you somehow got Bucky to wear a shirt & trousers to match your dress, you were tempted to buy some pearls & Bucky a sweater vest to make it as cookie cutter & wholesome as humanly possible but didn’t want to push your luck.

You should be ashamed of your camera roll at this point holding so many pictures of them both, but the real life image of them both asleep wrapping themselves around you & your growing belly was an picture you wouldn’t ever forget. Life was pretty perfect. 

AN:

Thanks so much for reading & the support you've all given me, I've loved writing this & I have a couple of requests lined up which I'll do some one shots or drabble's on. Your feedback has also been amazing so let me know what you thought of their ending!!

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i am a libra and that’s why i’m so proud of you

I’m a Pisces and that’s why I gotta go home.

oh my. we love a steamy scene

the art of pretending [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x agent!reader

being mentored by bucky is nothing short of torture; he’s cold, infuriating, and impossible to please. but when a mission gone wrong leaves you stranded in a freezing safehouse together, you start to wonder if all that supposed hatred has just been hiding something else entirely.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex, fingering, forced proximity, one bed, kissing, enemies to lovers-ish?, sexual tension, sparring, mentor bucky, bickering, insults, violence, bit of blood/gore/wound descriptions, bucky has issues, protective bucky, slut shaming (not from bucky), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 12.4k

A/N: hi! this is for some requests i received (one and two). i combined two of the requests because they were pretty similar, hope thats okay and i hope you enjoy! this took me... so long to write. i hope it doesn't flop <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You had two goals for the night: get shitfaced and get railed. So, catching your asshole boyfriend wrist-deep in some girl’s panties, doing the kind of finger work he never even bothered to learn for you, wasn’t part of your itinerary.

You could’ve cried, you could’ve begged, or collapsed into a sad cliché with a tub of ice cream and Sex and the City reruns. But no, you had a mission, and one mission alone. Get so unbelievably drunk on whatever you could get your hands on, so drunk in fact that you wanted to black out before midnight and preferably unconscious until sunset the next day.

Tony’s penthouse parties weren’t usually your scene. Too many sleazy rich men with superiority complexes, trophy wives sipping champagne through botoxed grins, and a carousel of extras that Stark always vehemently denied were hookers. What you did know was that, being an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D., your name was always on the list, and tonight, free top-shelf booze felt like divine intervention.

You just had to get in, get drunk, and avoid eye contact with your co-workers long enough to pull off a quiet mental breakdown and ignore the fact that you were rather underdressed for the type of party Stark was hosting. Scantily clad club clothing clashed hard with the pearls and Prada crowd.

A few raised brows and vague greetings followed you as you slithered through the gathering. 

But you held back a groan when you spotted the trio parked at the bar: Yelena, Steve, and Bucky. Great. The Greek god chorus of shame, in all their sculpted, judgmental glory. They looked just as uncomfortable as you felt, loitering by the bar instead of mingling with Stark’s circus.

You ignored their stares and made a beeline for the shelves behind the bartender—some poor kid who looked far too green for this gig. He gave you a look of dismay as you grabbed a bottle of tequila without asking. Slamming down a shot glass, you poured with shaky hands and knocked it back with the elegance of a car crash.

You barely registered the silence that followed until you glanced up and saw the stunned expressions staring back at you.

Yelena was the first to speak. “What happened to you? You never come to these things.”

You poured another shot. “Free drinks,” you muttered, then downed it, already lining up the next. No salt. No lime. Just pain, raw and unfiltered, sliding down your throat.

“I thought you were going out with your boyfriend?” She continued to press, while Steve looked rather scandalised as he watched you swallow back your third shot in a row with a shudder. 

Yelena reached over and snatched the bottle from your hand before you could pour again. “You should slow down.”

​​You blinked at her, teeth gritted, blood thrumming loud in your ears. She meant well. Of course she did. You’d always gotten along—ever since she’d been assigned as your mentor in your early days at S.H.I.E.L.D. You two had clicked effortlessly. It was all a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s long-term strategy to make field missions run smoother and reduce casualties. Avengers were paired with up-and-coming agents to pass down their experience and training, with the hope that one day, those hard-earned skills would save lives.

But everything changed when they reassigned you.

You’d been told it was to ‘broaden your skillset’, that it was about growth, adaptability, and learning from different leadership styles. What they didn’t say was that it would mean training under James Buchanan Barnes, aka Mr. No-Praise-All-Pain.

You’d tried. Really. At first, you gave it your all. Took his criticism, bit your tongue, pushed harder. But Bucky didn’t bend. He didn’t compliment. Didn’t guide. He just judged, cold and final, like every failure confirmed whatever low expectations he had of you.

Five months of that, and you were drowning. You begged for reassignment—back to Yelena, to Natasha, to anyone—but were denied every time. Some higher-up probably thought your mutual disdain was ‘motivating’, like locking two angry wolves in a cage and expecting them not to rip each other’s throats out.

And now here he was. Bucky Barnes. His suit jacket was slung carelessly over the back of his bar stool, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. His dress shirt clung to his muscular frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those unfairly defined forearms and the gleam of vibranium wrapped around a bottle of beer. His expression was stony, but familiar—stern brow, mouth set in a tight line, like he was already displeased with you and you hadn’t even said a word yet.

That look. That look you couldn’t stand.

Disappointment, or maybe pity. You couldn’t tell. Either way, it made your skin itch.

You wanted to punch him in his sullen, pouty face.

Instead, you laughed bitterly and reached for the bottle again, only for Yelena to hold it further away, firm.

“I said slow down,” she warned.

You made a face at Yelena. “Uh, you can’t talk. I saw you do shots out of a candle holder once.”

She didn’t even blink.

“Yes. And you called me messy. So I stopped.” She turned away just long enough to vanish the tequila bottle from sight like some sleight-of-hand magician. “This is me returning the favour. Stop it. You’re being messy.”

You barked out a harsh laugh and rubbed a hand down your face, smearing frustration across your cheeks. “You know what’s messy? My boyfriend. Well—ex-boyfriend.”

Across the bar, Bucky shook his head and muttered something low under his breath. You didn’t catch it, but you were sure it was vile because even Steve glanced over at him in disbelief, his eyebrows climbing high. Great. Judgment from Captain Morality and the Tin Soldier. Just what you needed.

Yelena sighed, already exhausted. “What did he do this time?”

You could tell she was reaching the end of her patience, and honestly, it was fair. She’d been your reluctant witness through the entire tragic saga of your love life. Two and a half years of emotional landmines and loser boyfriends who all somehow managed to be worse than the last. It was impressive, in a bleak kind of way.

You gestured vaguely, your expression somewhere between rage and disbelief. “I was supposed to meet him at some sleazy club downtown, his buddy was DJing—-fucking terrible DJ by the way. I’d barely walked in the door when I caught him in a back booth, fingering some girl who wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it!”

Yelena’s lips pursed. Steve stared like he’d never heard someone use the word ‘fingering’ out loud before.

“What did you do?” Yelena asked, her voice low, careful.

“Oh, the usual,” you said sweetly. “I punched him. Hard. He hit the floor like a sack of shit. Then I stepped on his hand until I felt something snap.”

Steve choked on his beer, coughing violently into his elbow. Bucky just watched you with the world's best poker face, a slight clench in his jaw muscles. 

You smiled at Steve, feral and unbothered. “Don’t worry, Cap. He won’t be playing DJ with anyone’s body parts anytime soon.”

Yelena gave a low whistle, somewhere between impressed and alarmed. “You actually broke his hand?”

“Felt like justice.” You shrugged. “Plus, he was always texting with that hand. Two birds, one stomp.”

“That’s assault,” Steve managed, his voice slightly strangled.

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “We’ve all done worse.”

Across the bar, Bucky finally spoke, his voice gravel-edged and unimpressed. “And now you’re here, drinking like a lunatic in front of half the team. Real graceful recovery.”

Your shoulders tensed, that familiar heat creeping up your spine.

“I’m not showing up for training tomorrow,” you said flatly. “Hell, I don’t plan on being conscious tomorrow.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “It’s going on your report.”

Your mid-year report. Just another excuse for Bucky to publicly drag you, whining to the higher-ups about what a terrible mentee you were. How you needed to ‘apply yourself’, ‘show initiative’, or whatever corporate nonsense they lapped up. And of course, those same higher-ups were always looking for a reason to cut dead weight. One misstep, and you were done.

“Of course it is,” you snapped, spinning on your heel. “You miserable, ancient cunt.”

Steve choked on his beer again.

Without another word, you reached behind the overwhelmed bartender, who looked about five seconds from quitting, and grabbed the nearest bottle. You didn’t even look at the label. You stormed off with tequila already burning in your veins and spite lighting the way. 

—

You were leaning casually against the wall outside the gym’s changing rooms, dressed in workout gear that was probably a little more flattering than necessary. Tight enough to flatter your waist, breathable enough to pass as practical. Around you, the low hum of chatter buzzed from a small group of fellow agents. You were killing time before your dreaded one-on-one training session with Barnes.

Theo leaned a shoulder beside yours, towelling sweat from the back of his neck. He’d been an agent about as long as you had—charming, competent, and a little too easy to get along with. The two of you were part of that unofficial after-hours crew: drinks on Fridays, complaints about the job, stumbling home tipsy and hungover texts on Saturday mornings.

“You’re on sparring duty all week too?” Theo asked, glancing at you with mock pity. “I swear Rogers gets off on making me eat mat.”

“I know what you mean. Barnes definitely loves making me suffer,” you replied with a grimace. “That man has a personal vendetta against me.”

Theo grinned, tossing the towel over his shoulder, and he gave you a playful sidelong look. “When I get knocked on my ass, promise you’ll kiss it better?”

You arched a brow, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Careful. I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.”

“Starting to?” he shot back, unfazed. “Let me make it clearer. If I don’t get my ass handed to me by Rogers, I’ll buy you a drink Friday.”

You leaned back against the wall, arms folding over your chest. “And if Rogers wins?”

Theo leaned in, voice low and smooth as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lingering just a moment too long. “Then I’ll buy you two,” he murmured.

You opened your mouth to respond. Flattered, a little surprised, already mentally debating whether it was worth shaving your legs, when a voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

“Agent. You’re late.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. That gravel-edged tone, sharpened with disapproval, could only belong to one man.

Bucky stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, jaw set like granite. His black compression shirt clung to every sculpted line of his chest, joggers slung low on his hips in a way that really shouldn't have been legal. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a combat simulation and into a fitness magazine.

But the expression on his face? Full-on battlefield.

That signature scowl was locked in place, thunderclouds brewing behind his eyes as he stared straight past you, straight at Theo. Typical. You hadn’t even done anything, yet somehow, he already looked pissed.

“Training doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” You reminded him.

He didn’t seem interested in whatever argument you were about to make, and he turned on his heel without another word.

You sighed, uncrossing your arms as you pushed off the wall and flashed Theo an apologetic smile. 

Jogging to catch up, your boots thudding against the hallway floor, you called after Bucky. “You know, there’s this really neat thing called a schedule. Maybe try sticking to it?”

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. “You could use the extra time.”

You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. Classic Barnes, gruelling, joyless, always ready with a critique and never a compliment. He’d made it his mission to grind you down, one scathing remark at a time. And yet, you knew you were one of the top agents. The higher-ups had told you as much in your mid-year review, even going so far as to say that your mentorship with Barnes was working brilliantly. You hadn’t bothered correcting them, though it irritated more than you liked to admit. All your hard work, and somehow, he got the credit.

Bucky didn’t stop until you were both inside one of the gym’s private sparring rooms. The door clicked shut behind you. No audience. No distractions. Just him and you and the electric tension that always seemed to spark the moment you were alone together.

“Seriously, Barnes, what’s your problem today?”

Bucky stepped onto the mat, gesturing for you to follow.

“You’re here to train, not flirt in the hallway.”

You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Bucky always had a problem whenever your love life even breathed into the conversation. Said it was irrelevant. Unprofessional. A distraction.

Back when Yelena was your partner, the two of you used to spar and gossip at the same time, her dodging your punches while you gave dramatic play-by-plays of whatever your latest fling had done to you in bed the night before. She lived for it. Bucky? Not so much.

He’d cut the conversation short every time. Couldn’t even stand the sight of you laughing a little too long with someone else. He’d yank you away with some bullshit excuse like, ‘distractions on the field will get you killed’, or ‘do I need to report you for slacking off?’ Like you were breaking protocol instead of just being a human being.

You stepped into position across from him, tightening your stance, heat already prickling beneath your skin. From the glare he was giving you, he looked ready to fight. Good. So were you.

“Are you always such an asshole,” you said, voice flat, “or is that just a special little treat you save for me?”

He gave you a look, deadpan and infuriating. “Only when I’m working with someone who’s constantly late, distracted, or hungover.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose and threw a lazy jab, just to shut him up. He deflected it with a flick of his wrist like he could’ve done it in his sleep.

“And yet,” you muttered, circling to your right, “you wrote me a glowing mid-year report.”

His hand faltered for a split second. It was brief, but you caught it, a crack in the armour he hid behind.

“So you read it,” he replied, already shifting back into motion.

“Hard not to. Maria practically quoted it word for word at me in the hallway.”

His mouth flattened. “It was accurate.”

You scoffed and came at him again, this time with more force, a blow aimed at his jaw. He blocked with ease, catching your wrist mid-air and twisting just enough to tip your balance. You staggered, caught yourself, then stepped back with a glare.

“‘Most adaptive mentee in the current program,’” you quoted, circling him again.

A jab. He blocked it.

“‘Performs under pressure.’”

You followed up with a low kick aimed at his calf. He side-stepped like you were moving in slow motion.

“‘Good instincts in the field.’”

Another punch, this one he met palm to palm, stopping your momentum cold. You grit your teeth and shoved him off.

“‘Promising.’” You swept your foot in a feint and then struck at his ribs. He pivoted out of reach, breath barely changed. “‘Capable.’”

He lunged this time, arm out, trying to lock your elbow, but you twisted under it, ducking away, the mat skimming under your feet.

“‘Excellent recall.’” 

You squared off again, eyes locked on his.

“Why the hell,” you asked, low and angry, “are you always such an asshole to my face when you’re singing my praises behind my back?”

He didn’t answer right away, moving like a shadow around you, eyes locked on yours. 

“As much as it pains me,” he finally spoke, tone flat, “you are my best mentee. Even if I dislike you personally, I felt your report should reflect that.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown. That was… probably the most praise you’d ever got from him—buried beneath the usual bullshit, sure, but praise nonetheless. On a good day, you might get a grunted ‘good’ if you were lucky. Most of the time, training with Bucky was just an endless list of everything you were doing wrong, punctuated by a jab to the ribs for emphasis.

“Do you always make your compliments sound like insults?”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Just the truth.”

You threw a kick toward his side, fast and impulsive. He caught your ankle and held it, grip firm around your calf for a second too long. His vibranium fingers were cold, even through the fabric of your leggings. You could’ve sworn they tightened around the muscle just a fraction as your eyes swept up to give him a look of disbelief. But instead of pulling away, you leaned into the moment and used the hold for balance. You pivoted hard on your grounded foot, letting the captured leg swing inward. Then you launched yourself forward, hooking your other leg around his waist, aiming to bring him down with you.

For a half-second, it worked. His balance shifted. Your hips were flush against him, legs locked tight around his torso as you twisted your weight, trying to drag him off his feet.

With a grunt, he straightened, twisted, and you suddenly found yourself airborne.

You hit the mat hard, slamming against it with a thud that knocked the breath out of you. The ceiling lights above blurred for a second as the impact rattled through your spine. His shadow hovered for a beat, chest rising with exertion, jaw clenched.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. Just stared down at you, maybe it was the oncoming concussion you probably just suffered, but you could’ve sworn there was a flash of concern in his eyes.

“Next time, I won’t let it slide if you don’t turn up because you’re hungover.” He wiped a forearm across his brow.

“How do you know my heart wasn’t broken?” You asked, shaking off the blow as you rose to your feet once more, feet finding their usual stance.

He arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Don’t you have sympathy for me?” you asked, somewhere between a joke and a challenge.

“I wouldn’t call it sympathy,” he said coolly. “More like pity.”

That stung more than you cared to admit. You rolled your shoulders, stepping in again. Your guard was up, but there was a crack in it now, frustration flaring under your skin.

“I can’t imagine you were actually that sad about it.” Bucky bit out, not even bothering to hide his annoyance now. “Don’t you have a new fling every other week? Sure sounded like you were lining up another one in the hallway.”

“Oh wow,” you drawled, voice harsh. “Slut shaming? This isn’t the 1940s, Barnes.”

“It’s not my fault who you choose to date.”

You exhaled, long and low. The tension between you had teeth now, gnawing at the air. “Y’know, for someone who hates me, you sure pay a lot of attention.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, fists flexing at his sides, poker-faced.

You waited, ready to shoulder any insult he laid on you. You could see irritation simmering under his skin, jaw ticking, knuckles white.

“I think you should take a lap or two around the room.” He huffed finally. “Your blocks are late, your punches are soft, and your stance is a joke. Try warming up before you embarrass both of us.”

You grinned back at him, though it was closer to baring your teeth than a show of amusement. “But I’m still your best mentee, huh?”

“Let’s make it five laps then.”

You gave him a lazy salute and turned for the edge of the mat.

“Whatever you say, Sergeant.”

As you jogged the first lap, footsteps echoing lightly in the private room, you could feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement and watching you like a hawk, like a fuse lit, waiting.

And damn it, you ran a little faster because of it.

—

If you’d known how this mission was going to turn out, you would’ve called in sick. Faked a family emergency. Broken your own damn leg. Anything to avoid being stuck alone with Bucky Barnes in a freezing H.Y.D.R.A. bunker from hell. You’d even considered whispering a desperate prayer to whatever all-seeing god might be listening—or hell, maybe begging Stephen Strange to yank you into an alternate universe where this wasn’t your reality.

Gunfire rattled somewhere outside the cement walls, and you imagined your fellow agents in the middle of all the fun, chucking grenades, dodging bullets, living the dream. Meanwhile, you were practically glued at the hip with Sergeant Sunshine, babysitting an ancient Soviet-era computer that looked like it still ran on dial-up.

You were perched on the edge of a desk, legs swinging, having shoved aside a mountain of dusty files scribbled in Russian. All completely useless to you.

“What is it with H.Y.D.R.A. and brutalist architecture?” you muttered, eyeing the thick ceiling. “Why does concrete get them so hard?”

“I can’t concentrate with all your whining.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s literally the first thing I’ve said in ten minutes, Barnes.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even throw you one of his signature grunts. Just kept clicking away like the keyboard had wronged him personally, eyes narrowed at the screen as if trying to decode the goddamn Rosetta Stone.

You groaned and rolled your head back, staring up at the ceiling.

More concrete.

You weren’t usually this unbearable on missions, but this? This whole situation felt like a personal attack. You’d been mid-flirt with Theo on the quinjet (who had been very committed to making bedroom eyes at you) when they’d called out team assignments. The second you heard your name paired with Barnes, tasked with data extraction while everyone else got to blow things up, you’d spun around to glare at him.

He’d been sitting there in his usual cold, statue-like stillness beside Steve, as if this wasn’t a death sentence. You’d stormed over, demanded if he knew anything. He just shrugged and muttered something about ‘higher-ups’.

The walls shook suddenly—another explosion—and dust drifted from the ceiling. You blinked it out of your lashes and slid lazily off the desk, sauntering over to where Bucky hunched at the terminal.

“Can you hurry it up? At this rate, they’re going to bury us alive in here.”

“Give me a second,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You leaned in slightly, eyeing the screen. A wall of Cyrillic met you, completely unreadable. You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that left your lips.

“Remind me again why we’re the ones doing this? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to send someone who actually speaks Russian to help you? Or, I don’t know, someone who has the patience to teach you how to use a flash drive?”

He didn’t answer, just kept typing and clicking, as if the keys owed him money.

You crossed your arms, scowling. The only thing more miserable than being stuck in a concrete crypt was being stuck in one with him. When he was distracted, like now, he forgot to wear that usual look of thinly veiled disappointment. His brow furrowed in focus, lips twitching as he muttered to himself in low, clipped Russian. He looked—God help you—human. Not like the cold-hearted pain-in-your-ass who’d spent the last six months tearing you down. But like someone thoughtful. Careful. Quietly brilliant.

And stupidly, stupidly attractive.

You hated how your eyes lingered on the way his rolled-up sleeves hugged his forearms. The way the shadows danced over his cheekbones and the little groove between his brows. The way that little furrow deepened when something didn’t go his way, like he was trying to wrestle the entire world into submission with sheer concentration alone.

It would’ve been easier if he were just awful. Easier if you didn’t catch glimpses of something else beneath the gruffness. Something that made your chest tighten a little when you weren’t focusing. 

You swallowed hard, forcing your eyes to the screen. What was wrong with you?

The download bar finally appeared on the screen, crawling forward at a snail’s pace. You exhaled loudly, half in relief, half in impatience. 

“About time,” you muttered.

He shot you a look, cold and flat. “You wanna do it?”

You turned your back on him, pacing the room. Your nerves were coiled tight, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions growing louder. The base was a pressure cooker and the damn download bar still hovered at 34%.

While you were busy taking your own turn brooding, the heavy metal door at the far end of the room slammed open with a deafening clang, nearly launching you out of your skin. Three armed H.Y.D.R.A. agents stormed in, rifles raised, eyes locked on target.

So much for the diversion. Clearly, it hadn’t been enough—or worse, H.Y.D.R.A. had seen through it. They must’ve realised it wasn’t a full-blown William-the-Conqueror-style invasion, just a cleverly dressed-up distraction.

“Company,” Bucky muttered, pulling his sidearm in one smooth motion.

You were already moving, instincts kicking in before your brain could catch up. You dove low, sliding across the slick concrete floor as a hail of bullets tore through the room. You grabbed the nearest overturned chair, dragging it into place just in time as metal pinged and sparked against it.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. A single, precise shot rang out, dropping the first H.Y.D.R.A. agent without a flinch. You didn’t stop to think. You surged forward, catching the second agent by surprise, your knee slamming into his gut with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He doubled over, right into the crack of your gun butt across his temple. He crumpled, unconscious, before he hit the floor.

Then you saw the third.

Rifle up.

Aimed right at you.

“Get down!”

The shout was raw, sharp enough to slice through the chaos. You barely had time to turn your head before a body crashed into yours. His arm slammed into your torso, hurling you sideways just as the trigger was pulled.

The shot cracked like thunder.

Your back hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor. Pain flared along your shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the sound that followed, the harsh, guttural grunt that tore out of Bucky’s throat.

You twisted around.

He was down, gasping, clutching at his side and blood already soaking through the black fabric of his suit.

You scrambled back to him just as the final agent aimed again. Snarling, you fired three quick shots into the bastard’s chest before he collapsed in a heap.

The air went still for only a moment, then the ground trembled violently before you had a chance to assess the damage done to Bucky. Chunks of the ceiling cracked and began to rain down. Concrete groaned like a beast waking from a long sleep.

You turned to the computer, some unreadable symbols flashing across the screen, but you were quick enough to decipher that it meant the download was complete. Snatching the flash drive, you spun back to Bucky, who was trying to sit up, blood spilling between his fingers as he pressed them hard against the wound in his side.

“Get up,” you barked, crouching beside him. “We need to move, Barnes!”

—

The two of you had spent nearly two damn hours stumbling through the snow-blanketed mountainside, following the rough coordinates burned into your mind from the mission briefing. By the time the cabin finally came into view—half-buried in the snow, smoke long gone from the chimney—you were soaked to the bone and one more smart comment away from throttling him.

The escape had been messy, the H.Y.D.R.A base nearly becoming your tomb. You’d been forced to bolt through a collapsing back corridor, dragging the injured super soldier along with the last of your adrenaline. Between the debris, the gunfire, and the growing dark stain across his side, you weren’t sure how either of you had made it out. Worse still, you’d missed the quinjet extraction window by twenty minutes. The skies had turned black with storm clouds, wind howling across the range as ice and snow stung your cheeks. The base had finally picked up your call for aid on the mission-assigned satellite phone, but due to zero visibility and increased H.Y.D.R.A activity in the area, the replacement quinjet wouldn’t arrive until first light.

Which meant you were stuck together. In the cold. For the whole night.

The safehouse, at least, was still intact. A small timber cabin tucked between trees, barely standing but just enough. It had a lounge no bigger than a broom closet, a wood-burning stove long dead and cold, a bathroom you prayed had running water, and a single bedroom with a mattress that looked like it had seen better decades.

Your breath misted in the air as you slammed the door behind you, the wind nearly ripping the handle from your grip. Bucky collapsed onto the torn couch by the stove without a word, letting out a low groan that he probably thought you didn’t hear.

You should’ve made starting the fire your first priority. But one look at the blood soaking through Bucky’s side made that choice for you.

Now, kneeling between his legs with the remnants of the first-aid kit splayed out on the coffee table, whoever had been here last hadn’t restocked it properly. You glared up at Bucky as he shifted under your touch again. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you hissed, dabbing antiseptic across the wound with a gauze pad. “You keep flinching.”

“Because you’re digging in like you’re trying to punish me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” you muttered.

He scoffed, muscles twitching beneath your hands as you pressed down. “Are you always this demanding?”

“Are you always this whiny?”

His glare was instant, eyes narrowed. “Is it your goal to piss everyone off?”

“I’m a fucking delight, and you know that.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “I think you’re mistaken. I definitely don’t like you.”

You lifted your brows, trying to keep your voice light despite the roiling mix of emotions spilling out. “You say that like you didn’t just take a bullet for me.”

You hadn’t even had the time to process it when it happened. The crash of his body slamming into yours, the sound of the gunshot, and the sickening thud of him hitting the ground. But now, with him sitting across from you, shirt dark with blood and a fresh gash still weeping crimson, the weight of it began to settle in.

He took a bullet for you.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Part of you expected him to twist it somehow, to throw it back in your face as some kind of lesson that you were careless. That you’d left an opening. That he had to clean up your mess. You were already bracing for it, the sting of snide remarks spread over weeks like salt in a wound, little digs during training about how you ‘owe him one’ or how ‘distractions get people killed’.

And yet... he hadn’t said any of that.

Instead, he just shrugged, wincing slightly. “I heal faster because of the serum,” he muttered, voice gruff but quieter than usual. “I’ll be back on the field faster than you ever could.”

You stared at him.

At the stubborn line of his jaw, the tight press of his lips as he tried not to show how much pain he was in. The way his hand gripped his side was too tight. The blood beneath his fingernails.

Why had he done that?

You weren’t always the easiest to get along with. You’d spent months pushing each other’s buttons, arguing, fighting, constantly locked in a cold war of insults and bruises. So why? Why would he throw himself into a bullet’s path for you?

It was hard not to feel... something. Flattered, maybe. A little shocked. And, against your better judgment, grateful. You didn’t want to be grateful—not to him, of all people—but your stomach wrenched every time you replayed the moment in your head.

You didn’t ask him to do it. And yet, he did.

And now he was pretending it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t made a split-second decision to put your life before his own. What if that bullet had hit a little higher? His heart? His throat? His skull?

“Sure,” you drawled, trying to cover for your sudden silence. “Great excuse.”

“It’s the truth.” He muttered. 

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing.

Which, somehow, said everything.

You stared at him for a moment longer, shaking your head as you tossed the bloodied gauze into the small bin beside the couch. The cold was starting to settle into your bones, your fingers stiff with it.

“Whatever. I’m going to try to find some firewood before we freeze to death.”

He glanced toward the boarded-up window, ice clinging to the edges. “You sure there’s any left out there?”

“Nope.” You pulled on your jacket. “But I’d rather get eaten by a bear than stay in here with you.”

You were halfway to the door before you paused, glancing over your shoulder.

“Can you get to that bed yourself, or do you need me to do that for you, too, super soldier?”

His answer came quickly, teeth clenched. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

You couldn’t deny the nausea in your stomach. Not from worry. Definitely not that. Just frustration. That’s all it was.

The wind nearly ripped the door from your hands as you stepped outside. Snow came in sideways, biting at your skin the second you crossed the threshold. You tugged your jacket tighter and trudged into the blizzard, squinting against the blur of white.

The woodshed was exactly where the briefing had said it’d be, about ten feet from the side of the cabin, half-hidden by trees. Or at least, had been. What you found instead was a crooked mess of collapsed timber and broken beams. Snow had settled deep into the heap, and every piece of wood you managed to drag free was soaked, the logs heavy with ice and rot.

You swore, breath clouding in the air.

You searched anyway, fingers numb, arms shaking. You tried the back of the cabin. Nothing. Even the branches scattered beneath the trees were too damp. No kindling, no dry bark, not even a damn pinecone. The cold was sinking deeper now, crawling down your spine and settling like an anchor in your chest. You didn’t want to push further into the wilderness, not in this weather and not with H.Y.D.R.A. agents crawling all over the mountainside. 

By the time you stumbled back inside and forced the door closed again, you could hardly feel your fingers or toes. Every limb ached like they were five seconds away from turning purple and black from frostbite. The cabin felt just as cold as the outside, but it was a momentary relief to be out of the wind that cut through your thick layers.

Bucky was on the bed, half-sitting up against the wall, the blanket pulled low across his hips. His eyes flicked up as you entered, taking in your dripping hair and shaking hands.

"Let me guess," he muttered. "No luck?"

You didn’t answer right away, just peeled your jacket off and dropped it near the door with a wet splat. “Everything’s soaked. The shed’s collapsed.”

He exhaled through his nose, chest deflating with the effort. “You’re freezing.”

You ignored him, stomping the snow off your boots. “I’ll live.”

“Not if you keep acting like a damn idiot.”

You turned to glare at him. “I’m sorry, which one of us got shot again?”

You crouched down, your knees protesting as you bent to untie your boots, but your fingers were too stiff, trembling from the cold. The laces had frozen slightly, the knots tight and uncooperative. You hissed through your teeth, fumbling and cursing under your breath as you tugged uselessly at them.

Bucky watched from the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t move to help, but you could feel his eyes on you. He tilted his head slightly and gave you a look that was half-concerned, half-exasperated, like you did this to yourself.

With a final frustrated yank, you freed your boot and kicked it off, followed quickly by the other. A damp string of muttered profanities trailed from your lips as you scrambled back to your feet, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. 

“Which one of us,” Bucky spoke pointedly, breath fogging in the air between you, “went outside to play in a blizzard and came back looking like a drowned rat?”

You were shivering now, teeth on the verge of chattering, but you still squared your shoulders and stared him down, as defiant as ever. A bead of melted snow trailed down your temple. He stared right back.

“Get over here,” he said finally.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to warm up.” His tone was flat, too practical. “And the bed’s the only warm place in this shithole.”

“Oh, now you care about my well-being?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Just lifted the edge of the blanket.

You hesitated, eyeing the small mattress like it might bite you. "You’re the worst."

"And you’re still standing in wet clothes. Take them off and get in."

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“Not all of them,” he said, eyes rolling. “Just the top layer before you die of hypothermia. Stop being dramatic.”

With a theatrical sigh for good measure, you peeled off your wet sweater, leaving the thermal shirt beneath and then your pants. You did not check to see if he was watching you shivering in your underwear, cheeks flushed. You padded toward the bed like it was a walk to your own execution, hesitating again at the edge.

You tried—really tried—not to let your eyes linger on the broad plane of his chest, but it was impossible not to. His shirt was rumpled and half-untucked, the hem tugged up where he’d peeled it back to expose the bandage on his side. The white gauze was already marred with deep red, blooming in uneven patches that made you pause with something halfway between guilt and concern. Your gaze drifted to the sharp curve of his waist, the ridge of muscle visible beneath the bloodied wrappings. 

It was distracting. 

He was distracting.

But what you tried hardest not to think about was the bed. Specifically, how absurdly small the mattress looked with him sitting on it, shoulders nearly brushing both edges. There was no way you’d both fit. You’d be pressed against him. Shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, knee to thigh. 

You swallowed hard and told yourself not to think about it.

But you were already thinking about it.

“Don’t make it weird,” Bucky muttered.

“I’m not making it weird.”

He let out a low, tired huff, the kind that told you he was in pain but too stubborn to say it. You rolled your eyes in reply, more at yourself than him, and climbed in carefully, slipping beneath the blanket with a reluctant shiver. The bed was warmer than expected. Or rather, he was. Bucky radiated heat like a furnace, the kind that seeped into your skin and made your limbs relax before your mind could catch up. You hovered near the edge of the mattress, body stiff, spine straight like it might help you keep your distance. But it was a hopeless attempt. The bed was tiny—criminally small, really—and with him taking up so much space, there was nowhere to go but closer. One wrong move and you’d be on the floor.

“God, you’re warm,” you muttered into the pillow, trying not to sound too affected.

“Serum,” he replied shortly, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Slowly, inch by inch, you gave in. The chill in the air made it too easy to justify. You shifted toward him, the blanket tugging between you as your arm brushed against his. Then your hip. Then your thigh. Until, somehow, your bodies were nearly flush. 

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t say a word.

And that somehow made it worse.

The silence settled between you, heavy and warm and intimate, like the air itself had thickened. You could hear his breathing, steady, but a little too deliberate. You could see his chest rise and fall from the corner of your eye. And worse, you could feel him. Every inch of him. The solid line of muscle at your side. The way your knees had somehow locked together under the blanket. How your forearm grazed his with every breath you took.

You needed a distraction. Desperately.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you snatched up the battered satellite phone, almost too quickly. The cold metal was jarring against your palm. For a moment, you considered activating the self-destruct protocol and blowing both of you up to end your shared misery. You flicked it on, the screen’s pale light casting long shadows across the room and across him.

Your eyes flicked over before you could stop them.

He was already staring at the ceiling, the faint furrow between his brows still present even in rest. His profile was defined in the low light, long lashes, strong nose, and the stubble on his jaw catching just a hint of light.

You forced yourself to look back at the tiny screen to check for any new updates.

Nothing. You were well and truly in for the night.

You scrolled to the mission briefing instead, flicking through the files to pass time, anything to distract you.

And then you saw it.

There, buried under the pre-mission notes, weather expectations, and extraction protocol, was a small addendum in the personnel request section.

Operation HARVEST: Agent Barnes, James B.Requested field partner: Agent 00149. Request approved.

You stared at it, the room suddenly quieter than it had been all night. 

That was your agent number.

He asked for you.

The same man who had spent the last six months grunting his way through every interaction, who seemed perpetually annoyed by your existence, who had made a point never to give you more than an ounce of credit, had explicitly asked to be paired with you.

You felt your throat tighten.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, as if he could sense your world shattering around you. His voice was low, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion 

You didn’t answer right away. You sat there, still curled under the heavy covers. The warmth of his body was helping, yes—but your blood was starting to simmer for a very different reason.

You turned slowly, holding the satellite phone up between your fingers.

“You want to tell me why it says on the briefing notes that you requested me as your partner for this mission?”

Bucky blinked once. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out.

“I asked you on the quinjet if you knew anything,” you went on, voice harsh now. “You told me it was a higher-up’s decision. You lied to my face.”

Bucky sighed through his nose, already bracing himself as he sat up straighter against the headboard. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” you scoffed, pushing yourself to your knees to face him, ignoring the goosebumps that rose as the blankets fell from your shoulders. “You picked me. You had me assigned to a mission with you, just the two of us, didn’t tell me, and then lied about it.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“You did lie.”

He dragged a hand down his face, slow and weary, but there was tension in the movement, an edge of frustration barely restrained. “I didn’t want you partnered with the other guys, alright?”

You faltered, unsure if you heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“No, you can’t just say that and not explain—”

“Fine!” He groaned, exasperated. His eyes dropped away from yours, fixing instead on a knot in the cabin’s dark wood wall. “I heard them talking. Theo and a few of the other agents.”

“What?” you asked, voice tight. “What were they saying about me?”

He didn’t answer. The silence stretched, heavy and awful.

“Just say it,” you bit out.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And it hit you square in the chest, something dark and protective burning behind his eyes. But it was reluctant, too, as if he hated that he was about to say it out loud.

His voice was low and rough when it came. “That you’re easy. That it’d be simple to get you into bed because you’re always asking for it. That you’re a slut. I gave them a piece of my mind and reported them, but I still don’t want you around them.”

You felt it like a punch to the gut.

Your breath caught, the sting behind your eyes immediate and hot. You blinked once. Twice. The words echoed, raw and ugly, and for a second, all you could do was try not to let them settle too deep. Not to let them stick.

You weren’t naïve. You knew you didn’t sleep around any more than anyone else your age. You knew that if the situation were flipped, if you were a man, no one would bat an eye. And still, the weight of it settled heavy in your gut, all twisted up with something darker. Dread. Shame. Fury. And under it all… that sick, crawling feeling that maybe Bucky had said something. Given them reason to think they could say it. That maybe he thought the same thing deep down.

That, maybe, to him, you were just some mess he had to clean up.

The words came fast, your voice shaking. “And what, you thought you’d ride in and defend me like some white knight? You know I could easily drop Theo, I could easily drop any of those assholes!” Bucky blinked, caught off guard, but you were already going, bitter heat rising in your throat like bile.

“You thought that would make it better?” you snapped. “You think that helps? They’re probably all laughing behind my back about how I can’t defend myself—”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let them talk about you like that!”

“Why?” you demanded. “Because you didn’t want to hear it? Or because you’ve thought the same fucking thing?”

His eyes flared with disbelief, maybe even insult.

“I would never think of you that way,” he barked, and his voice cracked like thunder. “Let alone say it out loud. Because I’m not an asshole. Not like those guys you date.”

You laughed, blunt and hollow. “Why do you care who I date?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t come up with any words, but to your surprise, he exploded before you. “Maybe because you deserve better!” he shouted, the words ripping out of him before he could take them back.

The silence after that was suffocating.

You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest, a strange cocktail of feelings in your stomach that you didn’t care to identify. He sat there, breathing hard, his hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to speak again.

“Jesus,” you muttered. You weren’t foolish enough to believe him, to fall victim to whatever joke he was trying to play. “Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” he mumbled this time. 

You turned your face away. “Oh yeah? Like you could do any better? Don’t be ridiculous.”

His breath hitched, like you’d slapped him. You could feel him shift beside you under the covers.

“You really think that?” Bucky asked in disbelief.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But Bucky didn’t let it stay quiet.

“You want to know the truth?” he asked, voice low and rough, as if the words had been caged for too long in his throat. “Fine.”

You turned back toward him, uncertain what expression you were even wearing anymore.

“I’ve liked you since the first damn time I saw you,” he said. “Group training. You were paired with some agent twice your size, and you still knocked him on his ass.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“I thought you were… brilliant. And sharp. And confident. And yeah, beautiful too. You had this way of looking right through people—through me—and it scared the shit out of me. When they assigned me to mentor you, I panicked,” he said, with a dry, bitter laugh. “I thought if I pretended, if I was distant, if I acted cold, I could make it go away. Trick myself out of it.”

“But it just got worse,” he went on. “Every time I saw you smiling at some sleaze who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, every time I had to watch you flirt with some smug asshole agents, I wanted to break something. Because it should’ve been me.”

You shook your head slowly, stunned. “Bucky…”

“I hated watching you get your heart broken over and over again,” he said. “Hated seeing you walk into training after pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t deserve that. Not when I knew I could treat you better if I just had the fucking guts to say something.”

Your ribs felt suddenly too small for your body, bones pressing into your lungs.

“And now we’re stuck on a mountainside,” he said, his voice softer, hoarser, “and I’m here bleeding in a bed with you, still lying to you, still trying to act like it doesn’t kill me every time you look at me like I’m just your mentor who you hate.”

You gaped in stunned silence, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Bucky watched you expectantly.

No. No, that couldn’t be what he meant. Not really.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel joke you’re playing on me,” you finally said, voice shaking, fingers knotted in the sheets. “I don’t get it. You’ve spent this whole time being…”

“I’m being serious,” he said, eyes locked on you. “I don’t expect you to believe me. I’ve fucked this up too many times. But I swear on my life, I’m not playing a game.”

You stared at him, blinking hard. “So what, this entire time you’ve been an asshole because you were what, pretending? Pretending that you didn’t like me, pretending that you weren’t jealous, when you could’ve just talked to me?”

His silence was immediate. Heavy. It told you everything you needed to know.

Your chest rose and fell too fast. Your mind was spinning, flipping through every memory like a film reel: his cold shoulder, his clipped instructions, the scowls when you joked with someone else, the way he always hovered a few steps too close in combat zones. The way he always caught you when you fell. There had been moments. Tiny fractures in his mask. The way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The time he bandaged your hand without a word, but so gently it had made your throat tighten. The night you caught him staring at you across the gym like he was in pain.

How had you missed it?

“I need to…” You whispered, slumping back under the sheets, pulling the blanket higher around yourself as if it might guard you from the ache in your ribs. “We should sleep. It’s late. Evac’s coming once the sun is up.”

He didn’t protest. He just nodded once, jaw tight.

Neither of you said another word.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

—

You hadn’t seen much of Bucky since you were both airlifted off the mountain.

He’d been recovering from his wound, officially. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was avoiding you. No texts. No nods in the hallway. No eye contact across the cafeteria. Just cold silence.

Coward.

You’d spent the past week half-waiting for him to come to his senses. The other half had been consumed wondering what the hell you’d do if he did. Because yes, you found him infuriating. Yes, he was emotionally constipated and moody and had the charm of a brick wall. But he was also gorgeous in that tortured-soul, sharp-jawed, arms-too-big-for-his-shirts kind of way. He cared about you, in his own twisted Bucky way. He’d taken a bullet for you. Defended you. Chose you.

And now he was just… gone.

You were leaning against the wall at the edge of the main gym, arms crossed, purposefully not looking at Theo and the other assholes you had suspected Bucky had been right about, when you heard footsteps and someone cleared their throat beside you.

Yelena stood beside you, her smirk suspiciously wider than usual.

You turned, brows knitting in apprehension. “Hey.”

“Congratulations,” 

“For what?” You replied hesitantly, watching as her brows lifted in delighted surprise. 

“You haven’t heard?” Her voice was alarmingly gleeful, like she was especially thrilled to be the bearer of whatever news she was about to lay upon you. “Barnes finally accepted your mentor transfer request.”

Your heart flatlined for a second. 

“What?”

Yelena, oblivious to your distress, continued to dig further. “I don’t know what you did to him up on that mountain, but… damn. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

“I didn’t ask for a mentor transfer,” you muttered, dread settling in your chest.

Yelena’s expression faltered. “Oh. Well, you have one now. You’re with Thor. They tried to pawn you off onto me, but you know, got my hands busy with the new group coming in—”

“Thor?!” You snapped, interrupting her spiel, “He’s a drunk! And he’s not even here half the time, too busy in Asgard—”

Yelena gave you a helpless shrug, and that’s when the doors to the gym opened and in walked the ghost of your week-long frustration.

Bucky was in full training gear, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, compression shirt clinging to him like a second skin. His hair was ruffled, pushed back half-heartedly like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it, a few strands falling into his eyes. The corded muscles of his arms were on full display, the glint of his vibranium arm catching the light with every step. He looked unfairly good, carved from grief and sleepless nights. But it was the way he wouldn’t look at you that struck harder than anything else. His jaw was tight, lips set in a permanent pout, that brooding scowl etched so deep it felt deliberate. He looked everywhere but at you, like you weren’t even there. 

Your blood boiled.

Without a word, you peeled yourself from the wall and marched toward him. He spotted you mid-stride, his posture tensing like he was preparing for impact.

“Hey—” he started.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, voice low and venom-laced.

“Not here,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the other agents filtering in behind you. A few of them had already glanced over curiously, settling in for whatever show was about to unfold.

“Too late,” you hissed. “You requested a mentor transfer for me without even telling me?”

“I thought it was what you wanted.” You both knew he was lying, and he refused to meet your eye. This wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about him feeling embarrassed after his outburst on the mountain. 

“Oh, really?” You stepped closer. “Because I don’t remember asking you to make my career decisions for me.”

“I was doing you a favour.”

“Yeah? Maybe try talking to me like a normal fucking person, and then I’ll tell you what I want.”

His eyes flickered up, stormy blues locking onto your face. “And what is it you want?”

You stared him down, tilting your head slightly, weighing the war going on inside you.

You.

I want you.

The thought was immediate, impulsive, and so painfully real it made your chest ache. But you shoved it down, crushed it before it could breathe. No. That was stupid. Why the hell would you want him—this man-child who’d ghosted you for a week, who’d spent the last six months acting like every word out of your mouth was a personal offence, who seemed to find joy in making you feel like nothing?

But then again… maybe you both had been trying so hard to deny the truth, burying something under six months of thinly veiled insults and sparring matches that got too rough. Maybe he was pushing you away because he didn’t trust himself to keep it professional. And maybe you were just as bad, biting back, rising to the bait, pretending you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered or the way his voice softened when you were actually hurt.

You had to know if it was real.

The shuffle of movement and muffled chatter around you signalled the start of group training, slicing through your heated stand-off. Agents around you began to pair off, leaving you and Bucky still locked in place, face to face, breath mingling.

You lifted your chin. “Be my sparring partner?” you asked, voice loud enough for the others to hear, but eyes fixed solely on him.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, tight-lipped, like he’d been waiting for the invitation all along.

You squared off on the mat, bouncing on your toes, adrenaline already coiling in your veins. Bucky moved like a soldier, controlled, fluid, annoyingly graceful.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he muttered as you circled.

“I’m not,” you said, “Just testing a theory.”

He raised a brow. “What theory?”

You lunged, caught his arm, and twisted into a low grapple—just enough to draw him in.

His chest brushed yours. His breath hitched.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

Your lips crashed against his mid-motion, stealing the next move right off his tongue. You felt him freeze, just for a heartbeat, before his hands twitched at your waist like he didn’t know whether to shove you away or pull you in. You felt the tension roll off him in waves. The way his body reacted was instinct. Shock. Hunger. 

His movements hesitated, and to your delight, despite the entire gym watching, he began to kiss you back. 

And that hesitation?

It was all you needed.

You shifted fast, breaking the kiss, then ducking low, hooking your leg behind his knee as you spun. In one fluid motion, you swept his legs out from under him and used the twist of your momentum to pull him down with you. He stumbled, off-balance, and you moved like lightning, hips snapping around his waist, thighs locking tight. You rotated with the drop, forcing him onto his back as you rolled with the momentum.

He hit the mat hard.

You were straddling him, thighs clamped around his ribs, palms flat on his chest. You smirked down at him, panting. 

Bucky stared up at you, winded, stunned, and very, very pinned. “That was dirty.”

You leaned down, your face just inches from his again. “So was your little mentor stunt. Call it even.”

Throughout the room, the entire gym was dead silent, staring. You gracefully dismounted him and marched off the mat, but Bucky scrambled up and followed you.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” you snapped as he caught up beside you.

“You can’t just kiss me and then walk away like that!”

“Why not?”

“You kissed me to mess with me.”

“I kissed you to see if you meant what you said on the mountain.”

The two of you burst through the gym doors and into the hallway. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. Bucky’s heavy footsteps were right behind you, his presence unmistakable, all coiled frustration and breathless anger.

A few agents stood frozen near the water station, others lingering by the mission board, all of them caught mid-conversation as they turned to witness the fallout. You were aware of the eyes on you, the awkward silence that followed, but you didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them gossip.

You stormed past them without pause as Bucky chased you like a dog on a leash that was just about to snap.

“You just kissed me in the middle of sparring,” he shouted after you, voice ragged and accusing. “In front of everyone. Is this a joke to you?” 

You didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. The elevator was too slow, too exposed. Instead, you veered to the stairwell and shoved the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall. The clanging echo followed you as you started up, two steps at a time.

“Oh my god, would you just shut up already?” you snapped over your shoulder, breath catching as your hand slid along the metal railing, spiralling up the concrete stairwell. 

Behind you, Bucky cursed under his breath. “It was unfair.”

He reached for you and just missed your wrist. You yanked it away before he could try again, your skin buzzing with the ghost of contact.

“Isn’t that what you taught me to do? Use anything to my advantage?” you bit out, pushing through the next door as you reached your floor. The hall here was quieter and dimmer. You passed rows of familiar doors. Your apartment was at the end of the corridor, and every step toward it made your pulse throb louder in your ears. “What, you have a problem with me using my assets against you?

“Assets, huh? You know, you really are unbelievable—”

You let out an exasperated groan, cutting him back. “You kissed me back.”

That stopped him.

His boots scraped the floor as he slowed a few paces behind you, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock.

“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your key in the door. The metal clicked, and you pushed it open with a little more care this time.

“You kissed me back,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself this time and stepped inside. 

Bucky barged in after you.

“You don’t understand—I’m… I’m trying to protect you!” His voice followed you into the room, desperate. 

You kicked off your shoes without looking at him. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Would you just listen for once—” he snapped, shutting the door behind him. 

You rolled your eyes and started pulling off your shirt, tossing it onto your bed and turned to face him, arms crossed. “I am listening, you’re the one not listening to me.”

Bucky stood just inside the door, like he hadn’t decided whether to walk out or burn the whole damn building down. 

“I shouldn’t have told you that on the mountain, it was unprofessional of me.” His voice cracked as his words poured out faster than it seemed he could stop them, emotion thick in every syllable. “I requested the mentor switch because I don’t trust myself to keep pretending. I can’t control myself around you!”

You padded barefoot across the room to the small bathroom.

“How am I supposed to go on training you?” He muttered, gesturing vaguely in your direction. He was repeating himself now, rambling like a crazed man completely oblivious to your actions. “You pull that stunt in the middle of training, humiliate both of us in front of the others, and then act like it meant nothing? Jesus, I can’t even think straight when you—”

You peeled your leggings off and let it fall to the floor behind you.

“—and don’t even get me started on that assets comment! What the hell does that even mean? You can’t just go around weaponising your—”

You unclasped your bra and bent to turn on the shower. The hiss of water filled the room, steam already curling up the mirror.

“—I mean, are you even hearing yourself? You just, what? Decided to tackle and kiss me like it was some kind of training tactic?! That’s not even…Are you using my confession against me? God, you’re impossible, I swear—”

He looked up.

And stopped.

Mid-sentence. Mid-breath.

There you were, back turned, steam catching on the bare curve of your spine and trailing over the lines of your thighs, standing in nothing but your underwear.

His words died in his throat like a car slamming into a wall.

Mouth slightly open. Eyes locked. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder, saw the exact moment it hit him and raised a brow, feigning casual curiosity as you stepped toward the open shower door, letting the foggy heat billow around your legs.

“You joining me?” you asked sweetly. “Sure sounds like you need to cool off.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

Like you’d just knocked the wind out of him for the second time that day. Just that haunted, hungry look in his eyes like he was trying to figure out if he’d died and gone to hell. Or heaven.

His mouth opened, like he had something to say, some half-assed rebuttal, some snarky comeback.

But no words came out.

Only a low, helpless breath.

“I wasn’t using it against you.” You clarified as you dragged your underwear down your legs, tossing them somewhere across the room. “I was seeing if you meant what you said.”

You stepped nto the shower, leaving him stood stunned in the bathroom doorway. A soft sigh slipped from your lips as warm water poured down your shoulders and back, washing away the dull ache in your muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there, facing the stream, eyes closed, the patter of droplets against your scalp soothing like white noise in a storm.

Then came the soft rattle of the shower door behind you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was him.

The subtle swish of movement was followed by the cool press of metal against your waist, his vibranium arm snaking around you, cool against the heat of the water and your flushed skin. Goosebumps prickled instantly across your stomach, nipples peaking at the contrast.

You turned slowly, steam swirling around you in thick waves as you met Bucky’s eyes. His wet hair was slicked against his neck, droplets clinging to the dark strands and sliding down his jawline. Beads of water traced the line of his throat and the rise of his Adam’s apple, disappearing over the muscle of his chest. His hands found your hips, warm and solid, the grip almost possessive.

You tried not to look down, tried not to let your eyes drift to the answer to a question you’d been too proud to ask. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you stepped into him, letting your palms slide up the hard planes of his chest, past his dogtags and looped around the back of his neck.

“I think this is going to do the opposite of cooling me down,” he muttered, voice husky, half-lost beneath the steady rhythm of water hitting tile.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, and then you kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle.

Your mouths crashed together like you’d both been holding back for too long. Hungry. Desperate. Sloppy. The water only made it messier, lips sliding, catching, breath hissing as teeth grazed. He kissed like he needed to claim this moment before the world snapped back into place. You returned the kiss with equal urgency, fingers threading into his wet hair, tugging, needing more.

His hands slid down your back, firm, sure, guiding you until your spine pressed against the slick wall of the shower. You wrapped a leg around his hip, instinctive, needy, and he growled softly into your mouth as his hand dropped to support your thigh, holding you steady. You ground your hips into him, once, twice. His grip tightened, and the next thing you knew, he was lifting you, hands firm on your ass as he carried you effortlessly from the shower. The bathroom was thick with steam, fog curling along the edges of the mirror and dripping from the ceiling. Water trailed down both of you, soaking the tiles as he strode across the room.

Your back met the edge of the counter with a soft thud, followed by the chill of the fogged-up mirror behind you. The coolness shocked your skin and made your spine arch sharply, drawing a low noise from your throat. Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He was still kissing you, still swallowing your gasp as his hands ran down your thighs and urged them further apart.

He stepped in, slotting himself between your legs, his body flush against yours. The sensation of him made your head spin. Water from the still-running shower continued to hiss in the background, steam billowing out and filling the room like a cocoon. You were both soaked, skin slick and glistening, lips swollen, breaths short. Your fingers found the back of his neck again, anchoring yourself as he kissed you deeper, slower now, like he was savouring every second.

His hands slid down your hips and tugged you forward until your thighs bracketed his waist. You felt his cock, solid and insistent, pulsing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your breath caught.

“I think I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He confessed between kisses, before consuming you again.

It took little resistance for him to push into you in one smooth motion. You weren’t just drenched from the shower. Your whole body sang from the shock of it, a strangled sound tearing from your throat as your fingers fisted in his wet hair. His mouth tore from yours with a ragged gasp, trailing down your jaw, your neck, leaving fire in his wake. Bucky braced a hand behind you on the counter, the other gripping your thigh, steadying you as his hips began to move precise and relentless.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he muttered into the curve of your neck, voice wrecked. His lips brushed against your pulse, the edge of his teeth grazing the skin like he was half a second from losing control. “How many nights I told myself I couldn’t touch you... shouldn’t want you, couldn’t have you.”

You let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as his hips snapped forward again. 

“Keep going,” you rasped, one hand clawing up the curve of his back, the other buried in his hair. “Don’t stop.”

His only reply was a low, broken groan against your skin, like he was coming apart just from the feel of you wrapped around him. You locked your ankles behind him and rocked your hips forward, drawing him deeper. A spark of pleasure flared up your spine, making your head fall back against the fogged-up mirror..

“I tried so fucking hard to keep my distance.” He chuckled low against your collarbone, though the sound was strained, caught between shallow pants and a raw groan of need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His vibranium hand slid between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with gentle strokes, and your body jolted in response. An uncontrollable whimper left you as your thighs trembled around him.

“I’ve been dying to hear those sounds from you.” Bucky panted against your ear. 

You pressed closer to him, shaking legs tightening around his waist as you pursued his fingers. He chuckled at your poorly hidden desperation, chest vibrating from the sound. As his fingers swirled, cock pumping in and out, you felt your body clench involuntarily around him, drawing a moan from him. 

“Fuck, Bucky, ” you breathed, barely able to form the word as your pleasure surged, unrelenting and dizzying. “If I’d known this was what you were holding back, I would’ve pushed harder.”

Bucky’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming uneven and desperate, chasing the high he could feel coiling tighter in both of you. Your raw moans echoed around the small bathroom, rising above the hiss of the shower and the frantic beat of the slap of wet skin. Your climax broke over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your entire body arched, legs trembling as you whimpered, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. Pleasure tore through you like lightning, leaving your nerves sparking in its wake.

With a guttural groan muffled against your neck, Bucky followed you over the edge. You felt him twitch inside you, warmth spreading as he spilt into you, his hips stuttering erratically as he buried himself as deep as he could go. His arms tightened around you, as though he needed to hold you close to keep himself grounded.

For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that. Tangled together, trembling, the heat of the afterglow. The water still rained behind you, forgotten, as you both came down slowly, limbs heavy and slick with sweat and steam. Then, slowly, Bucky lifted his head to look at you. His hair was plastered to his forehead in wet strands, water trailing down the lines of his cheekbones and along his jaw. His eyes, dark and hungry, searched yours with a mix of dazed satisfaction and something else. A flicker of awe, maybe. Or disbelief.

You gave him a slow, wicked smirk and reached up to brush a dripping lock of hair off his brow, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“I need you to pull that transfer request, by the way,” you murmured, voice low and rough with breath. “There is no way in hell I’m training with Thor.”

His lips twitched, a hoarse laugh escaping him, short and surprised. But the fire in his gaze didn’t fade. If anything, it darkened.

“I’ll pull it…” he said, voice thick with promise as his hands slid back down to your waist, “…when I’m done with you.”

From the way his fingers gripped your hips, you had a feeling that wouldn’t be anytime soon. 

---

hello! i no longer have a taglist because it got too long and was reaching the tag limit. if you want to be notified when i post please follow @artficlly-updates and turn on post notifications!

this but bucky x reader

shall I? SHALL. I.

I always love a good “there was only 1 bed story line” it’s especially good when it’s an enemy’s to lovers one. But this one just read so good 10/10

5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t. 

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state. 

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot. 

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.” 

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip. 

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you. 

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in. 

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds. 

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering. 

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step. 

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window. 

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening. 

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in. 

The  next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans. 

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could. 

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission. 

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake. 

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep. 

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.” 

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in. 

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you. 

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission. 

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee. 

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?” 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” 

“Yes?” 

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.” 

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back. 

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together. 

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering. 

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.” 

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent. 

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together. 

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat. 

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark. 

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work. 

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage. 

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him. 

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it. 

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?” 

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms. 

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing. 

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it. 

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much. 

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick. 

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding. 

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone. 

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him. 

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you. 

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk. 

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -” 

“Absolute embarrassment -” 

“Can’t believe they let her in -” 

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him. 

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear. 

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music. 

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!” 

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost. 

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk. 

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-” 

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.” 

Was he still here? Fucking asshole. 

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist. 

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music. 

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it. 

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?” 

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose. 

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?” 

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away. 

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it? 

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut. 

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door. 

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step. 

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.” 

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop. 

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control. 

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?” 

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?” 

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs. 

“Sure.” He sighed. 

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed. 

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.” 

“I’ll be right outside if you need-” 

“Stay.” 

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt. 

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place. 

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene 

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?” 

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water. 

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast. 

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” 

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water. 

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.” 

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something. 

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it? 

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.” 

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway. 

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break. 

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch. 

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow. 

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.” 

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring. 

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-” 

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised. 

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food. 

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled. 

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first. 

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him. 

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -” 

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -” 

“You’ll share with me, right doll?” 

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.” 

“Bucky -” Sam started. 

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-” 

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose. 

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping. 

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted. 

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest. 

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you. 

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t. 

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds. 

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone. 

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you. 

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed? 

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room. 

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip. 

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible. 

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see. 

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky. 

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.” 

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone. 

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver. 

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered. 

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did. 

“I miss you too.” 

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -” 

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” 

“What if I want to?” 

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter. 

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek. 

“You do?” 

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him. 

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.” 

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips. 

“Uh huh, I did,” 

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling. 

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.” 

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss. 

“How long?” 

“How long, what?” 

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses. 

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start. 

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you. 

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

“I guess we do, doll.” 

OH MY LORD I NEED THIS MAN!!

Freak Like Me

Bucky x reader

Summary: You got banned from playing music in the training room for a reason, and when an unexpected song plays during your workout, Bucky finds out why.

Word Count: 2311

Thought I'd give you guys something a little more spicy! Hope you enjoy :)

You walked down the hall of the Avengers tower toward the training room, and it was uncharacteristically quiet. You knew a lot of the Avengers had meetings today, but you didn’t think everyone did. You were glad though, because you didn’t really like working out with other people and you could play whatever music you wanted over the speakers.

You listened to a little bit of everything, and that was true for working out too. The music would go from rap, to pop, to rock, and while you didn’t blink an eye, everyone else hated it. So, naturally, you got banned from playing music when everyone else was in there.

You walked around the corner into the training room and came to a stop. Bucky was inside warming up on the treadmill. Of course someone had to be in there, and of course it had to be Bucky. He of all people would be most likely to hate your music.

You hadn’t brought your headphones, and you thought about going back to get them when Bucky looked your way.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, turning off the treadmill.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” you said, realizing it probably looked like you were standing there staring at him.

You walked in and set your stuff down, plugging in your phone by the benches because you forgot to charge it last night.

“What are you hitting today,” Bucky asked.

“Steve is making me do his leg workout,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Yikes, have fun with that.”

Bucky walked over to pick up some weights as you were trying to decide whether or not to ask if you could play music. You assumed he would say no, but decided to ask him anyway.

“Hey Buck, is it cool if I play music?”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he said, surprising you.

“Oh, okay cool.” You went to your settings to connect your phone to the speakers, then pressed shuffle on your workout playlist. The first song that started playing was an old rock song, so you were hoping Bucky wouldn’t regret saying yes too much. Then, you walked over to the other side of the training room to get set up.

Your playlist went through a bunch of different genres, but thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to mind. You were both just minding your own business and doing your own thing.

A little bit later, a new song started playing and you heard Bucky call over to you.

“Hey, I actually know this one,” he said, with a proud smile on his face.

You just laughed, listening to the music and realizing it was Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. It would’ve came out after the 40s, but apparently Bucky still knew it.

But then, you started thinking, this song would not be on your workout playlist. Your eyes went wide when you realized what song it actually was. Freak by Doja Cat.

You quickly reached down for your phone to change the song, only to realize it was still plugged in on the other side of the room. Plus, you couldn’t just change the one song Bucky said he knew without him being suspicious.

You started to freak out, knowing the song would definitely make him uncomfortable, when the music paused for a brief moment. You held your breath for what was coming next.

“Freak like me. You want a good girl that does bad things (to you).”

You looked at Bucky, and you couldn’t see his face because he had his back facing you, but he had stopped in the middle of his workout. You started over to get your phone when he turned around.

“What the heck is this?” he asked, a mix of confusion and horror on his face.

You stopped, trying to figure out how to answer, when the song kept going.

“Tied him down to my queen bed. Tease him just enough to hate me. Tied it tight enough he can’t break free.”

You scurried over to the benches and grabbed your phone, quickly skipping the song. You tried to play it cool, but Bucky was already walking over to you.

“So, is this why you got banned from playing music? You play songs about sex?”

You sighed. “No, they just don’t like that I play so many different genres,” you said, your face heating up.

He just hummed in response, still staring at you with his steel blue eyes.

“And here I was, thinking that you were so innocent,” he said, smirking.

“It’s – just a good song,” you replied, trying to defend yourself. Your face was bright red at this point, and you knew he was loving this, making you squirm.

“So, which one of the guys are you wanting to tie down to your bed, hmm?”

Your jaw dropped, face flushing as you tried to figure out how to respond to that.

“No one,” you said, “it’s just a catchy song.”

“Right,” he responded, his smile getting a little bigger. You knew he was never going to let this go.

“Well, I’m gonna go back to my workout,” you said, walking past him. But before you could get very far, he grabbed your arm and turned you toward him in one quick motion. You were now standing chest to chest, your faces just inches apart.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you played that song on purpose. I mean, we are the only two people in the tower for another couple hours,” he said, his voice low and deeper than it was before, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your jaw dropped slightly once again, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. Your heart was thumping in your chest, and you hated to admit it, but him pulling you towards him and talking in that voice was making you insanely turned on.

You opened your mouth, but when nothing came out, Bucky’s smirk just got bigger.

“I – I didn’t play that on purpose,” was all you could say.

Finally, Bucky broke character and started to laugh, dropping his hand from your arm. Your skin was still tingling where his hand had been.

“I’m just messing with you y/n,” he said, laughing. “You should’ve seen your face though!”

You stood there in shock as he walked away, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened. You walked back to the other side of the room, but you weren’t able to focus on the rest of your workout. You didn’t dare look over toward Bucky, so you had no idea that his gaze kept shifting to you, distracted from his own workout.

You finished your workout as quickly as possible and made a beeline for the door, grabbing your phone and not saying a word to Bucky as you practically ran out the door.

You were halfway down the hallway before you finally felt like you could breathe again. You didn’t realize how you had basically been holding your breath that whole time. You got back to your room and quickly jumped in the shower, just wanting to relax after how worked up you were.

You stepped out of the shower when you realized you forgot to grab clothes to change into. You sighed, trying not to focus on how nothing seemed to be going your way today. You just wrapped your towel around you after drying off and walked out of the bathroom to your room.

You were halfway down the hallway before you looked up and stopped dead in your tracks. Bucky was standing outside the door to your room.

And you were standing in front of him in nothing but a little towel. Could this day get any weirder?

“Uhh, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Sorry I just – was gonna apologize, but – seems like you’re really trying to get my attention now,” he said, a smirk plastered on his face yet again.

You sighed, determined to not let him get under your skin this time. Maybe you’d have a little fun with him.

“And what if I am?” you said, giving him a smirk of your own.

His smirk turned into a brief second of shock, and you could tell he was caught off guard.

You sauntered down the hallway, walking right past him into your room, but not before running your hand along his arm as you walked past. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked into your room, not bothering to close the door.

You walked over to your dresser, bending over to get clothes out, knowing your towel was long enough to cover you, but not quite long enough to keep Bucky from going a little crazy. You made sure to pick out the tiniest pair of shorts you own and a cropped baby tee.

You turned around grabbing the top of your towel like you were going to drop it at any second. His face was bright red and he looked like a deer in headlights. Man was this fun.

“You standing there hoping for a show, or can I get dressed in peace?”

“Oh, uh – sorry,” he mumbled. He pointed at the door, “do you want me to, uh – never mind,” he put his head down and practically ran the other way.

You tried so hard not to bust out laughing as you went over and shut the door.

Once you put on your clothes, you walked back down to the kitchen to get something to eat. Conveniently, Bucky was right there, sitting at the island.

“Hey Buck,” you said, flashing him a smile.

He looked you up and down, obviously liking what you were wearing.

“Hey,” he finally managed to get out.

“Are you gonna make something for lunch,” you asked him.

“Uhh, yeah I was gonna make some eggs.”

“Oooh, that sounds good, maybe I’ll make some too.” You walked over to the drawer with the pans, exaggerating every movement as you bent over. You knew he was going insane.

“Do you want me to just make yours too,” you asked, not bothering to turn around. You set the pan on the stove, finally turning around when he didn’t answer you.

That’s when you realized he was right behind you, looking at you with a deep intensity in his eyes. He had been so flustered, you didn’t expect him to do anything about it.

He slowly leaned forward, arms grabbing the counter on either side of you, trapping you in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Umm, making eggs,” you said, slowly.

“Are you tryna’ kill me, doll?”

The nickname made your stomach flutter.

“I was joking earlier,” he said, “I never thought you’d do it back.”

“And what makes you think I’m joking?” you responded.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’ve never seen you wear so little clothes around the tower.”

“I was still hot from my workout,” you said, shrugging.

“Oh, trust me, I am too,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

Bucky didn’t back up, and neither did you.

He looked down at you, his voice rough with restraint. “You keep playing with fire, doll.”

You tilted your head, meeting his stare without flinching. “Maybe I like the heat.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened. For a moment, neither of you moved—until he reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, trailing lightly down your jaw.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice breathy.

And that was all it took. He leaned in fast, pressing his lips to yours with a force that stole your breath. One hand gripped the counter beside you, the other sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped into the kiss, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and he took that opportunity to deepen it—his lips moving hungrily against yours like he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

When you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“Still want eggs?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not really.”

Bucky’s smirk returned, but this time it was laced with something deeper—need, maybe, or anticipation. He backed you gently out of the kitchen, never breaking eye contact.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s see how hot things can really get.”

And just like that, lunch was officially off the menu.

--

The next morning, you woke up tangled in warm sheets—and even warmer arms.

Bucky was still fast asleep behind you, his chest pressed to your back, metal arm draped lazily over your waist. His steady breathing tickled the back of your neck, and you smiled, remembering the very unexpected turn your day had taken.

You shifted slightly, and his grip tightened instinctively, pulling you even closer. “Mmm… don’t move,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“I thought super soldiers didn’t need this much rest,” you teased softly.

His lips brushed your shoulder. “They don’t,” he murmured. “But if it means waking up next to you like this…I’ll gladly pretend to be human.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin and reached behind you to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned against your skin. “Only for you.”

Your phone buzzed from the nightstand, a text from Nat lighting up the screen:

You forgot to clean the pan from your “egg-making” session yesterday. Sloppy cover story, y/n.

You groaned and hid your face in the pillow as Bucky peeked at the message over your shoulder.

“So… busted?” he asked.

You sighed. “So busted.”

He laughed, pulling you closer again. “Worth it.”

And you had to admit—it really, really was.

---

my mom, after a long period of silence: what's on your mind?

me, who has been vividly imagining getting fucked disrespectfully by a middle-aged man: nothing :)

literally every day i say to myself “wow i’m having a really bad one today” like girl i think this is just your life.

new year, better boyfriend- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, unnamed ex x reader warnings: cheating, a break up, friends to lovers, fighting, blood, bucky breaking your ex’s nose lol about: a request! DF 41 or DA 19?(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry.” (DA19) “touch her, and i’ll murder you.”

letters blur together as you stare at the text on your phone. sweet, undeserving words concerned over your boyfriend sent hours ago, offering to bring soup and take care of him because nobody deserves to be alone on new year’s day; a response you’d thought representative of who you thought he was following only a few seconds after. you figure your boyfriend didn’t want you to arrive at his lonely house to discover his lies.

ex-boyfriend. right.

you sniffle when you remember, pressing the back button to go back to your message list, only to receive another reminder of the betrayal as you see the apologies from your friends, the girl who had sent you the video of him making out with another girl only a string of numbers with a gray sentence underneath reading i’m sorry.

you roll your eyes at everything—him, you being so upset, the entirety of your relationship—trying to pretend like you aren’t as hurt as you are; as if you cared about him about as much as he cared about you. tears rush to your eyes before you can help it, your racing mind bringing up thoughts all too sadly realistic for you right now. trying to concentrate on anything else, your eyes only gravitate towards the piece of cake you’d wrapped in tinfoil to bring him later today, all of the things on your desk that showed that you cared so much more than he cared about you.

you uselessly wipe at your nose when you hear your door being pushed open, shoving your phone underneath your thigh as you look up to meet baby blue.

“hey, doll,” bucky starts, voice soft. “are you okay? i saw you rush out earlier after you got a message, ‘nd i wanted to see if you were okay.”

your bottom lip juts out without your permission, the lump that had been lodged in your throat growing far enough to hurt your jaw when you think back getting the text in the middle of celebrating. the mere act of coming to see if you were okay—of noticing, just makes you feel dumber because he never did that and you feel like you should’ve known. how must the girl who sent the video of it feel about you?”

“y/n?” bucky asks apprehensively, “sweetheart, are you okay?” worry threaded in his words, rooted deep enough for you to never doubt if it’s real. “are you gonna cry? oh, honey, please don’t cry.”

you feel the warmth of tears as they slide down your cheeks, shoulders slumping, exhausted from faking it even if it was just for a few moments. bucky’s has shown more care than your ex has shown you in a month, and the honey of it begins to drip down your face. bucky steps towards you in quick, long strides until he’s in front of you.

“he cheated on me,” you admit, feeling ashamed even though you’re not the one who it should be put on. he should be embarrassed, he should be crying. “god, i’m so stupid,” you cry, dropping your head into your hands. bucky bends down to his knees.

“what?” bucky whispers, confusion clear in his tone and the pinch of his features, “how could he… you’re not—you’re not stupid, dolly, he is. he is the stupidest man in the universe for doing that to you.”

“he told me he was sick. i made him fucking chicken soup while he was with some other girl,” you snivel. bucky gives you a tissue you didn’t notice he grabbed from your dresser, using another one to gently dab underneath your eyes.

“he’s so stupid, y/n. i wish i could do something. i’m so sorry, doll.”

you shake your head, “it’s not your fault.”

“it’s not yours, either.” bucky’s voice is strained with his truth, begging for you to believe him. it only makes the lump swell larger, your chin tilting up. bucky takes away the tissue to wrap his arms around your abdomen, laying his head on your lap as he feels you accept his comfort, your chin on his head.

“i just don’t get it,” you mumble tearily, “i’m a good girlfriend.”

“you are,” bucky affirms, “you don’t know how many people would die for you to be their girlfriend. you are the best girlfr—the best girl.”

you shut your eyes, tears continuing to slide down your cheeks, darkening the color of bucky’s hair. “then why do i get the worst boyfriends?”

“because the ones that would treat you like you deserve can’t get the gall to tell you. ‘m sorry, that’s on me.”

you finally huff something other than a sob, a gentle laugh that still accompanies salt slipping from cracked lips, “it’s my fault, too.”

bowing your chin into your neck, you nuzzle your nose into the strands of bucky’s hair, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo, familiar, safe.

your phone breaks the moment with a vibration, a notification from the contact name you still haven’t brought yourself to change with frantic words underneath it. you roll your eyes, leaning further into bucky.

“s’that him?” bucky asks.

you nod bitterly, “he probably found out i know. i don’t care what he’s saying.”

your phone continues to vibrate, low music eventually accompanying it when he begins to call. you can feel yourself beginning to get frustrated, your sadness beginning to burn away to anger. nevertheless, it continues to weigh you down enough to hesitate yelling at him at the risk of hearing his voice, the sweet apologies bouncing off the same tongue that was in another girl’s throat just a few hours prior.

your phone goes silent after a minute, but it continues to vibrate ever few seconds until the music begins to chime again.

annoyed, you sit up, glaring at your phone but not wanting to touch it.

bucky seems to read your mind, reaching for it to silence it, but at the opportunity, his finger hovers over the answer button, looking up at you for confirmation. at the stretch of your hand toward it, he hands it to you. you take a deep breath before answering,

your entire body seems to slump in the exhaustion of listening to his strung sorries, the only words you offer being arguments that you saw it with your own eyes, asking him if he’d like to see the video in case he somehow forgot living it.

at some point, you drop your phone on your thighs, your fingers massaging your temples.

bucky grabs it without a second thought, “hey, asshole. shut the fuck up or i will go to your house to snap your neck..”

he hangs up, red tinging his skin, enough anger running through his veins for you to hear the vibranium plates of his arm as they shift.

“thank you,” you say.

at the sound of your voice, bucky’s tense jaw begins to relax, the fury that managed to slip past his exterior immediately easing back when he looks up at your soft eyes.

“i’m so tired,” you admit, squeezing the fingers that wrap around your own. “will you just… lay with me for a little? please?”

bucky isn’t sure if the possibility of saying no even exists, raising your hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to your knuckles, “whatever you want, sweetheart.”

-

the both of you don’t wake up again until the next morning, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to anything else. only few more tears were shed, all more of anger than the sadness still weighing down your heart. bucky blinks himself awake before you do, a stupid smile tugging at his lips when he notices you're in his arms.

you seem so much calmer as you sleep, the stress lines that decorate your forehead disappearing with your even breaths. tear stains aren’t as prominent, especially after bucky tenderly brushes some away with his thumb, unable to help the little smile that peeks out when you lean into his touch.

you don’t seem as troubled, which makes it even worse when harsh knocking interrupts the peace of your room, a loud voice calling for you which bucky instantly recognizes as your ex-boyfriend’s. you snap awake, blinking disorientedly, “what… is that—what is he doing here?”

“do you want me to deal with it?” bucky asks you, his words laced with please let me deal with it, but you refuse, shaking your head to wake yourself up and wiping at your cheeks.

“what are you doing here?” you question angrily once you open the door, only to have it pushed open completely, your ex barging inside.

“you weren’t answering, and this guy answered your phone, i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“if i’m okay? that is so—you have to be kidding. get out.” you go to shut the door, feeling all the sadness that was left in you leave your body when you see the guy you were feeling it over.

“y/n,” he sighs, a hand reaching out for you when bucky intercepts it, suddenly next to you.

“touch a hair on her head and i will murder you. i promise you.”

he freezes, retracting his hand, but decided he still has a chance, “who is this?”

“don’t tell me you’re—you are ridiculous! get out!”

seeing your ex with no intention of leaving, bucky decides his patience has run out, already able to see the headlines as he shoves him out of your room roughly until he’s in the elevator, “‘think she said to leave.”

sensing an argument, bucky rolls his eyes and decides fuck it. for you, he’d do anything, breaking the guys’ nose is nothing.

bucky throws a punch that makes your ex’s eyes roll back. he hears you exclaim his name in surprise.

“stay away from y/n.”

bucky pushes the first button on the elevator before stepping out, breathing heavily.

“bucky!” your eyes are wide, “you didn’t—he wasn’t worth it.”

“but you are,” bucky states, “anything for my girl.”

the pull of your cheeks is involuntary, you think vaguely that you shouldn’t be able to smile after th enight you had, but bucky’s words continue to echo in your mind, only widening the small smile on your face, “your girl, huh?”

bucky blushes, looking down. “uh huh.”

“i think i like the sound of that.”