Bucky Barnes is the reason my standards are so high

i will write for pretty much all marvel characters requests are welcome! this is a safe space for everyone to interact i will not tolerate hate from anyone, to anyone, or in any way,

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Masterlist

Fluff - ❤️ Angst - 😭 TW - ⚠️

Bob Reynolds:

Hi, Bob - Bucky invites you to the old Avengers tower - a place you had avoided since you left after Thanos. But, you cave and visit. Bucky's delayed on a mission, so you make yourself at home. You're interrupted by the Void but you manage to bring Bob back. You talk to him for hours and when the rest of the Thunderbolts return, they are surprised, to say the least, at Bob animatedly conversing (and laughing?) with a retired Avenger. 😭❤️

Natasha Romanoff:

Love You Forever - You and Natasha are getting married, and your vows even bring someone to tears ❤️

Bucky Barnes:

Just A Little Party - Tony decides to throw a "little" party after a successful mission, and you attend - definitely not hoping to catch the attention of a certain metal armed super soldier. A little flirting never hurt anyone, right? ❤️

Heat Of The Moment - A stressful mission leaves tensions high. Bucky and you had always been close, carefully treading the line between flirting and friendship. But when you don't know if Bucky's going to make it out before a building explodes, you know exactly what you have to do if you see him again. ❤️😭

I'm Not Enough - Bucky was always insecure and you were always prepared to get him through it. But, seeing you getting cozy with Bob set him on a path there was no turning back on. 😭

You're Gonna Go Far - (song fic reqeust) Bucky has become your father when you were rescued after your apartment building collapsed in the Chitauri attack on New York. Now, he supports you at the world championship for cheer. 😭❤️

Drop The Act Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 - Bucky was constantly on your nerves. And you were on his. You were too perfect. Your smile was too polished, your voice too delicate, your words too calculated. The public loved you, and you Valentina's only way to keep the Thunderbolts out of hot water with Congress. But, what happens when you drop the act? What happens when you stop hiding your tears behind a candy cane smile? 😭❤️

I Knew It! - Bucky and you have been dating for a few months in secret, and you finally decide to go public. Let's just say, Sam literally short-circuits at seeing you cuddled up with Bucky, watching a 90's rom com. ❤️

The Weight Of A Name - Series Masterlist (In Progress)

Steve Rogers:

He Made His Choice - You knew what he was going to do before he ever stepped onto the platform. And he did what you expected. He left. For Peggy - the woman you always knew his yearning for was stronger than his love for you. Years later, you find someone who will forever reassure you that he'll never leave you. 😭❤️

In A Sentimental Mood - After seventy years, Steve finally comes back home to you. But after an impulsive kiss, he avoids for the next two months. A packed charity gala, a meddling Bucky Barnes, and one impromptu jazz performance later; you and Steve finally confront your feelings head on. 😭❤️

[buckybarnesisbbg]

The Weight Of A Name Masterlist

Status: In Progress

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Mob!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes and the rest of the New York underground empire watches in anticipation to see who will replace the famous Tony Stark as leader of the Bronx and Manhattan mafias. When you - his daughter - assume the throne, everyone is thrown for a loop. But as you make a name for yourself and find a new way of leadership, Bucky Barnes becomes fascinated. You are the one mystery he can’t seem to solve. If Bucky was two steps ahead of everyone else, you were always five steps ahead of him. Bucky and you become acquainted and grow closer. As he learns of your story and you discover his true motivations, the two of you form a relationship, untouched by the violence and traditions of the New York mafias.

Chapter 1 - Inheritance

[buckybarnesisbbg]

The Weight Of A Name:

Chapter 1 - Inheritance

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Mob!Reader (first part of my new series!)

Summary: There's a new boss in town.

Warnings: don't think there's much here, some talk of mob business but there's nothing super gruesome, there might be some swearing but i forget if there actually is lol

A/N: please please please comment if you want the next part. i'd really like some reactions to know if i should continue with this

WC: 3.7k

The boardroom had belonged to your father long before it belonged to you. 

The room occupied the entire eastern wing of the estate's second floor, overlooking acres of manicured gardens and the Manhattan skyline beyond. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall, though heavy burgundy curtains had been drawn halfway across them to soften the harsh morning sunlight. The result left the room bathed in a muted amber glow that reflected off polished oak and expensive crystal. 

Your father's influence lingered in every corner. 

The scent of old cigar smoke had long since seeped into the wood panelling, refusing to leave no matter how many times the staff cleaned the room. Deep scratches scarred the surface of the massive oak table, souvenirs from decades of negotiations, arguments, and threats. One particularly deep gouge sat directly across from you. You remembered watching your father carve it there with the dagger hidden inside his ring while interrogating a man who had stolen from him. 

The man hadn't survived the meeting. 

The table had. 

You sat at the head of it now. The chair was too large, but not physically. It fit your frame perfectly well. 

But every time you lowered yourself into the dark leather seat, you could almost feel the weight of the men who had occupied the space before you. Your father had seemed enormous sitting there. Untouchable. 

You felt neither. 

You felt twenty-seven years old. You felt exhausted. You felt like you hadn't slept properly in weeks. Your fingers brushed against the silver ring resting beside your folder. 

His ring. 

The eagle emblem gleamed beneath the overhead lights, and you just stared at it for a moment. People expected you to wear it. Expected you to continue the tradition. 

Expected you to slit throats and crack skulls and become some distorted reflection of the man who had raised you. 

You left it on the table. 

Let them wonder. Let them worry. 

Violence was effective. Predictable violence was not. 

The sharp click of heels pulled your attention from the ring. 

Yelena entered first, a tablet tucked beneath one arm and a notebook balanced in the other hand. She looked immaculate as always, blonde hair pinned neatly away from her face and not a single wrinkle visible in her navy suit. 

Unlike everyone else in the estate, Yelena didn't look nervous. 

She never did. Not around you. 

"Mr. Russo is here for your meeting, ma'am." 

You lowered your gaze to the open manila folder in front of you. 

Photographs. Financial records. Shipping manifests. Witness statements. Three months' worth of information condensed into twenty-seven pages.  

You had already memorized every word. 

"Send him in." 

Yelena inclined her head and moved toward the door. 

The moment she disappeared, silence reclaimed the room. 

You exhaled slowly. Just once. The kind of breath no one else would notice. The kind your father would have mocked. Your stomach tightened as footsteps echoed from the hallway. Not because you feared Frederick Russo –because you knew this wasn't merely a meeting. 

This was a test. 

The first of many. 

Every guard stationed along the walls, every assistant standing quietly beside the doors, every employee who carried coffee into this room, every captain who would hear about this conversation before the day was over. 

They were all waiting. 

Waiting to discover whether you could truly fill his seat. Waiting for you to fail. Waiting for proof that they had been right all along. 

The door opened. 

Frederick Russo entered with the confidence of a man who had never once been told no, and you smiled internally. 

Good. 

Confident men always made the most satisfying mistakes. 

“I’m Frederick Russo. I believe we’re here to discuss your desire to increase the shipment rate through Piers Six, Seven, and Eight. Let’s get started.” He said curtly, while taking a seat at the far end of the boardroom table. He wished to make it clear that he had no intention of this being a long meeting. He thought that this would be nothing more than you failing to negotiate and reluctantly agreeing to deals that would ultimately shatter your financial plan.  

After all, this was your very first business meeting as the new leader of the Manhattan and Bronx underworld. Your father had ruled with an iron fist and a vicious temper. He was a violent, ruthless man; always using force and physical threat to scare people into line. And it worked. Holy hell, did it work. The simple, singular motion of fidgeting with a thick, silver ring on his right ring finger was enough to signal to whichever man that stood in front of him that they were done for. That ring – which, when the eagle emblem encrusted on the top was pressed down, expanded to a five-inch dagger – was your father’s weapon of choice. If someone dared to cross him, failed him, or simply annoyed him beyond his toddler-level of tolerance, their throats would quickly be slit by that dagger.  

Tony Stark’s name was the first off people’s tongues when asked by newcomers who they should avoid. Tony Stark’s name ricocheted through the city when a big business deal was struck without his permission to warn whatever adversaries that had dared to cross him to say goodbye to their families and possessions. Tony Stark’s name was not one that would soon be forgotten until long after his death. Tony Stark’s name was associated with one thing: 

Violence. 

It was what your father used, what his men used, what everyone was used to from your family.  

That’s why everyone was...surprised, to say the least, when you took power, instead of one of your father’s most trusted goons or advisers. You know, someone intimidating? Someone big? Someone strong? Someone...who wasn’t a woman.  

It was safe to say, no one expected you to last long in this world. Your reign would be nothing more than a short-lived mistake that would be used as a funny anecdote for years to come. And Mr. Russo was no different. He didn’t even bother to address you as ‘ma’am’ or ‘madame’ like even your own men and the staff of your recently inherited estate had the decency to do.  

“Listen, girl,” he began, bringing out a thin manila folder to match yours, and laying it out on the solid oak table in front of him. “I’ll try to make this simple for you. Your father and I had an agreement that I controlled Piers Six through Eight. He might control the larger Bronx area, but I handle the shipments going in and out of the ports. We’ve got a good thing going here. He makes a profit, I make a profit. There’s no need to change the system. My men are doing their jobs well, so I suggest you stick to your fancy golden palace and let us handle the dirty work. Wouldn’t want to break a nail or dirty those nice clothes, now, would we? Is this handled now, little girl?” 

You internally scoffed at his ridiculous, ego-fuelled rant, and kept your expression purely neutral. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. You simply kept eye contact steady and blinked uninterestedly.  

Mr. Russo was clearly not as good at keeping a poker face, as his brow furrowed and he let out a frustrated puff of air at your silence.  

“Hello? Did you understand any of that, little girl? Too much for you to handle, probably,” he paused to laugh at his own insult and looked at his bodyguard next to him to make sure he laughed as well. “Should I explain it again? Why don’t I do that? It might be good for you to see how a real businessman carries out a briefing.” 

You still did not react and let him simply begin droning on and on. He sat fifteen feet in front of you for a solid ten minutes, spewing out pure bullshit. Half of his statistics and facts were just plain false, and the other half displayed a very basic understanding of the ins-and-outs of the business carried out in the Piers he claimed to have a handle on.  

“So,” he said with a sigh and pre-emptively closing the folder in front of him, assuming the meeting was done. “I think that clears it up. Anything you want to add?” 

Your face was unreadable. It clearly agitated him. But you enjoyed watching him squirm, so you stayed silent for another moment. He looked around, questioning your bodyguards and assistants that were scattered along the walls. Finally, you smirked. His brow furrowed and he was about to speak when you cut him off.  

“Tell me, Mr. Russo.” you said smoothly. “What was the arrival to departure ratio rate of Pier Eight last quarter?” 

His eyes immediately widened and his smile dropped. He was caught off guard.  

Just like you knew he would be. 

“E-excuse me?” he stuttered and tried to clear his throat of surprise. “The arrival to departure ratio of the shipments?” 

“Yes.” 

He tried to reach for the folder in front of him, but you stopped him before he could lay his eyes on any helpful information.  

“Mr. Russo, please. Surely an accomplished, competent businessman such as you would know these kinds of statistics off the top of his head...right?”  

Your voice was dripping with condescension, and you were sure to tilt your head to the side as if you were talking to a small child.  

“Of-of course.”  

You noticed he was no longer calling you ‘girl’.  

“Well...I believe last quarter we had forty-five shipments delivered. And...thirty seven shipments sent out.” 

He tried to cling to his dignity and not begin to stutter in front of the woman he’d clearly underestimated. A single bead of sweat fell down his forehead, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you. You tried to smile. Such a strong, confident man; easily undone by one simple question from a new boss. 

“Hmm.” 

You closed the folder in front of you, stood up, and gestured to two of your assistants to open the door to boardroom, all in one fluid motion.  

“I believe this meeting is over.” you said cooly. 

“What?” he asked, incredulously. 

“This meeting is over.” you repeated. “I do not wish to discuss such important business with a man who clearly does not know the details of his own operation. Perhaps we can find a more...qualified member of your team to brief us and reach an agreement.” you said every word with one purpose: 

To humiliate him. 

You wanted to make it clear. Just because you were new – just because you were a woman – didn’t mean you would take any shit. You were just as capable as any of the men who had been in your position for decades longer than you had. You had just the potential to be cunning, ruthless, and feared. This was the first step. 

“Fine.” he scoffed, as if it was you who had just made an embarrassing mistake. He stood and moved towards the door that your assistant held open, but not before turning back to look at you one more time with a skittish look; he was wondering if you would take it back. His fragile ego really couldn’t handle one mistake probed by a woman he believed to be far less competent than she actually was.  

You just smiled politely and nodded at your assistant to usher him out of the room.  

“Thank you, Yelena.” The blonde nodded and smiled softly at you.  

Yelena was your personal assistant, and your biggest supporter. Yelena had watched you grow up, and even though she was only four years older than you, she was the closest thing you’d ever had to a mother. Yelena was your cousin, Kate’s, fiancée. The family connection was strong, but so was your friendship. Yelena knew your extremely subtle signals to end a meeting with a surprise phone call or dinner, to cancel any further meetings if you had a migraine you just couldn’t handle, to order a coffee from the kitchen when you working late into the night. Yelena was your assistant, and a damn good one. 

You took your seat again and pulled out a piece of paper from the folder. A checklist. Full of names. You crossed out “Frederick Russo” at the top with satisfaction. First meeting – done.  

You knew that wouldn’t be the last you’d hear of Russo – men like him didn’t embarrass themselves quietly. But you were prepared. That was what no one expected from you. That you would be prepared. Everyone expected you to be naive, gullible, and green. But you were far from it. You might not have any real experience guiding the complex network of under-the-table dealings you’d watched proceed all your life, but you had enough knowledge and wits to get by. You would be alright.  

More than alright.  

You were going to destroy. 

----- 

“I-I swear, Mr Barnes. I don’t know where the money is.”  

The warehouse was dead silent save for a distant, rhythmic dropping of water. The only smell stronger than Bucky’s oak and whiskey tinted cologne, was the reek of desperation wafting off the low-level dock worker sitting fifteen feet directly opposite of the most-feared man in the state – now that Tony Stark was dead.  

Bucky stayed silent, not even glancing up the puny man begging him for mercy and just continued to flip through a financial report with his right hand. With one ankle resting atop the other knee and a steaming cup of coffee in his left hand, Bucky Barnes looked completely unbothered. Which, truly, he was.  

Yes, he cared about retrieving the stolen money, but he was simply bored. This was just another interrogation that would end the same as all the others. Why not get some work done while enjoying the entertainment of some punk who got too confident, grovelling at his feet.  

“I’m telling the truth.” 

“Hm.” 

The man strained against the rope binds that kept him tied to the purposely uncomfortable wooden chair. His voice was shaky and eyes filled with terror. He knew what happened to people who crossed Bucky Barnes. 

Another page turned. 

“You know, people always say that.” 

“W-what?” 

Bucky continued to speak while never tearing his gaze away from the report on his lap, as if this was just a habitual routine for him. 

“I am telling the truth.” 

“You stole two hundred and forty-eight thousand dollars from a shipment last Thursday.” 

“I wasn’t working on Thursday. You can ask-” 

Bucky held up a hand and he stopped talking immediately. He took another slow sip of coffee and said, “I haven’t asked you a question yet.” 

His gulp echoed loudly throughout the warehouse, and it was the signal that said this business was already concluded. Bucky finally looked up from the folder and set his mug down on a crate nearby. He slowly stood up and purposely stomped his foot down harder than necessary, simply to watch the weakling in front of him flinch. 

Bucky knew what little actions caused once strong, arrogant men to crumble away. Bucky knew how to intimidate and interrogate for information. Bucky knew how to do his job well.  

He enjoyed control. 

“My question is: how long did you think you would get away with it?” 

Bucky voice was cold and his eyes were the same. A glower that could turn water to stone – or make answers spill from quivering lips in a matter of minutes. 

“I...didn’t do anything, sir.” he persisted. 

Bucky shook his head softly, feigning disappointment, before flicking his glance to one of his captains lingering nearby. Instantly, in one fluid motion, the captain marched over, Bucky took two steps backwards, and the captain swiftly punched the man in the stomach three times.  

“Agh!!!” the man groaned in pain and struggled against the restraints from the instinct to wrap his arms around his, more than likely, broken ribs.  

“You know, I don’t actually mind thieves.” 

The man mustered up the energy to look back up at Bucky. 

“I mind stupid thieves.” 

Silence. 

“And then...you spent it. You bought your wife a house.” 

A sharp intake of air from the man told Bucky that he had hit the nail on the head.  

“A blue one. Three bedrooms. White shutters. Pretty place, overall.” 

Bucky’s lips curled into something others might mistake for a smile. But it was really a tactic to embarrass his victims even further.  

“I know where every dollar went.” Bucky said as he stood up taller and smoothed his charcoal suit as if brushing off the remnants of the man’s presence. “So, let’s not waste any more of my time.” 

“You won’t kill me, right?” 

“Where’s the rest of my money?” 

----- 

Two hours later, Bucky was sat at the head of a long dining room table – mostly empty, save for his right-hand-man Steve Rogers and two lieutenants. The room’s walls were painted a dark navy blue, meaning many light fixtures were needed to properly illuminate the space. Ten-foot tall ceilings, dozens of paintings adorning the walls in ornate wooden frames – much too gauche for Bucky’s taste but his mother had insisted they be kept up after she died, and five delicate chandeliers above the dining table.  

This room was the most out of place in Bucky’s sprawling mansion. Every other room was modern and equipped for practicality, rather than beauty. But this room felt like something out of a medieval portrait.  

The dining table could accommodate up to twenty guests, but on a regular night, it only sat four: Bucky, at the head; Steve, to his right; Sam and Joaquin, to his left.  

Joaquin had recently risen through the ranks with Sam vouching for him along the way. Bucky was still naturally suspicious of the eager young man, but he was slowly gaining Bucky’s trust. He might joke around too much and certainly drank too much coffee, but he got jobs done with almost as much precision as Bucky did.  

A few minutes after their meals had been served, the three men began chatting. At first, they were just briefing each other on business that had commenced that day. But it didn’t take long for the conversation to steer into the more exciting news. Rumours of firings, deals, and executions. Nothing too out of the ordinary for dinner at the Barnes estate.  

Bucky sat silently and enjoyed his meal while the men talked, just like he always did. Bucky didn’t like to participate in pointless ‘gossip’ and instead preferred to just listen to his men discuss whatever was on their minds. He took a sip of whiskey from an intricate glass that had been gifted to him by Steve. Another bite of steak. Then Steve brought a new topic of conversation to the table.  

“Russo's meeting about his Piers apparently ended in disaster.” 

Bucky just nodded. Predictable. Everything was.  

“The meeting was with Stark’s daughter.” 

That made Bucky pause. He carefully set down his silverware and took a sip of whiskey before looking up at Steve. His eyes danced with surprise and curiosity – wondering if it was true or just a rumour Steve had heard.  

“Really? Stark’s daughter...threw out Russo?” 

“Yep.” 

“Fully embarrassed him from what I heard.” Sam chimed in. His smirk and eyes twinkling with mischief told Bucky that he was being entirely truthful – and was enjoying this far too much.  

“What did she do?” Bucky probed further. He resumed eating his steak to try and feign disinterest, but he wasn’t fooling his closest men.  

“Just asked him a question.” 

“Yeah, it was something about the arrival and departures from a Pier and he didn’t know the answer.” 

Bucky’s lips almost turned into a smirk before he quickly schooled his expression. It wasn’t surprising that Russo hadn’t known the basics of his business – the man was always an idiot, and how he had managed to survive this long was a mystery Bucky would never solve. But what did interest him was that you had managed to dismantle what was considered quite a powerful businessman in your father’s territory, on your first day.  

Bucky set down his silverware once again and looked up at Sam, Steve, and Joaquin sat with him. They all were keeping their eyes on him, waiting for his reaction.  

“Interesting,” Bucky said plainly.  

“You know she’s only been on the job a few days and apparently, she’s already fired half of her father’s captains.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Joaquin’s statement and looked to Steve to confirm this.  

“That’s what I heard too. She’s looking to change things up over there.” 

“Well, I heard she had them executed too.” Sam countered.  

“Really?” 

Bucky began swirling his glass of whiskey and watching the reflected light coming through the glass onto the tablecloth become a beautiful kaleidoscope. With his eyes transfixed on the amber liquid in front of him, he continued listening to his men exchange whispered rumours and stories of the newest boss in New York. With every tale, Bucky become more and more intrigued. 

“She still wears her father’s ring.” 

“I heard she threw it away as soon as she took power. Wanted a fresh start.” 

“I heard she didn’t even raise her voice in the meeting with Russo. She just quizzed him until he snapped.” 

“I heard she fired a shot at him. And it hit the wall a few inches away from his head.” 

After a few minutes of regaling suppositions across the table, Bucky polished off his whiskey and set the glass down on the table harder than necessary. All three men immediately stopped talking and turned to Bucky. 

He let the silence hang for a moment while he continued to gaze at the shapes dancing across the tablecloth from his whiskey glass.  

“Arrange a meeting.” 

“Uh,” Steve stuttered for a split second before continuing. “Business or pleasure?” 

He had listened to his men contradict and argue over which stories about you were true for almost ten minutes. Clearly, you were worth talking about. If you had already made this big of a splash and caused so many colliding rumours to ricochet through the New York underground, then Bucky was intrigued. He couldn’t quite get a read on you yet, but he assured himself he would find out the truth. 

“I want to see if the rumours are true.” 

[buckybarnesisbbg]

NEW SERIES ANNOUNCEMENT

hello, everyone!

i am announcing a new series that i will be writing. it's a mob bucky x reader series...

now i never used to like mob aus but i've been getting into them and i'm really hopeful that you guys will like this one.

i do want to say that i'm not the greatest with posting consistency and i will be writing this as i go so there might be longer gaps between parts then expected but i'm really going to try and get at least one part out every two weeks.

let's hope this goes well!!! 😭

❤️

[buckybarnesisbbg]

In A Sentimental Mood

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Platonic!Bucky x Reader, reader used to be a jazz singer

Summary: After seventy years, Steve finally comes back home to you. But after an impulsive kiss, he avoids for the next two months. A packed charity gala, a meddling Bucky Barnes, and one impromptu jazz performance later; you and Steve finally confront your feelings head on.

A/N: here is the song reader sings. btw this isn't the original version just the closest one I could find to how I imagine reader sounds

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, alcohol consumption but no one is drunk

WC: 5.2k

You watched him move through the bar with ease and confidence while you sat with an atmosphere that was quite the opposite. While he radiated charm and a sense of belonging in the crowded bar, bombarded with questions and women getting far too close for comfort, you were closed off and silent. Brooding, as Steve called it. 

That was something you and Bucky had in common. You and Bucky had known Steve since the 40s, back when he was just a scrawny, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn with courage enough to rival even the most decorated generals.  

You watched Bucky and Peggy get promoted through the army, proud of both your best friends. You, on the other hand, were fulfilling your dream of being a jazz singer. You certainly weren’t the most famous, but those who knew you, adored you.  

Even if you weren’t the most known singer in the city, you were comfortable with it. Every time you stepped on stage you were magnetic and perfectly at home. The first note of your mouth that echoed through whatever bar you had called yours for the night entranced everyone – causing drinks to freeze halfway to people’s mouths and conversations to cease purely to listen in awe. Your voice was smooth, effortless, and dangerously seductive. 

Bucky often joked that he had lost many a potential suitor when he completely abandoned conversation to listen to your melodies. Bucky didn’t even see you as potential romantic connection, but even your best friend admitted your voice made him forget about whatever he was in the middle of.  

So, yeah. You, Bucky, and Peggy were becoming huge successes in your respective fields. 

And Steve... 

Steve was watching supportively from the sidelines. Always. 

You knew that Steve had a bitter flame inside his heart, urging him to do something great. You’d noticed on the day Bucky had introduced you two. Steve had a desire to be more than people expected. To fulfil some great destiny in his mind. 

He had finally done that when he got the super soldier serum. You watched as Steve strolled into the Brooklyn apartment you shared with him and Bucky the day after he got the injection. You almost pulled the pistol you kept strapped underneath the kitchen when an unrecognizable, very buff, stranger interrupted your weekly baking session. But his eyes were a dead giveaway. You’d recognize those hopeful, light blue eyes anywhere. He was your Stevie. 

After a few hours of confusion that was only partially erased through many, many questions, you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder when listening to him describe some top-secret mission details he definitely shouldn’t have been telling you. Falling asleep with Steve on the couch wasn’t a rare occurrence – in fact, it happened quite often. Whether you had a late-night gig, or you had been baking and Steve and dragged you away from the oven to listen to a new record he’d gotten; you and Steve often found yourselves talking late into the night. When your eyelids began to droop, you knew there was no way you were getting back to your bedroom so you found an excuse to settle in on the couch, cuddled into Steve’s side so you could fall asleep peacefully. You never slept better than when you were nestled into Steve’s chest. 

What you never noticed, however, was how Steve looked at you once you had dozed off. He was scared to take a big breath out of fear of waking you up – especially when you looked so at peace and happy as you snoozed on his chest – but, to some degree it was easy. After all, you took his breath away. 

Steve could sit there until the sun rose just gazing at your beautiful face. He would entertain himself with daydreams of what it would be like if he finally admitted his feelings to you. What it would be like if you reciprocated his love feelings. What your lips would feel like against his.  

Stop it, he would have to reprimand himself. She’s your best friend. She doesn’t see you that way. 

----- 

After Steve came out the ice, his first question upon waking up in a fake 40s hospital set was asking where you were. He called your name all the way out to the street as he was being chased out into New York traffic. When you stepped out of a black SUV with Fury behind you, Steve was relieved beyond words. Whatever was happening – whatever had happened to him – it would be alright. Because you were there now. 

After you had explained how they found him frozen in the ice, how you had taken the super soldier serum and survived to the modern day, and lived your life waiting for the day Steve would miraculously appear on your doorstep, Steve was too shellshocked to speak. He simply sat on the couch, staring at your shoes as you sat beside him, rubbing a hand up and down his arm. 

After a few moments of silence, you whispered his name. 

“Stevie? Are you okay?” 

Steve dragged his heavy head up to look you in the eyes. He saw your inquisitive worry and the small glint of love in your gaze. Steve didn’t know what to say. Or do. But something possessed him and he did something wildly crazy and stupid. Something that he knew he would either spend the rest of his life regretting or being grateful for.  

He kissed you. 

He leaned in and firmly pressed his lips to yours. Your whole body tensed at first, but it didn’t take long before you melted into his touch.  

You kissed him back. 

She’s kissing you back, you idiot, Steve’s inner monologue screamed at him. 

You pulled away first and looked at Steve with confusion and anticipation. It was then that what he had done hit him with full force. His mouth ran dry and his breathing was shallow and uneven. He’d merely stuttered a few moments before sprinting out of the room and locking himself in his bedroom. Why did you do that? You freaked her out! 

You sat frozen on the couch. Burning holes into the cushion Steve had been sitting in a few seconds ago.  

“Did that just happen?” you whispered into the silence. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You don’t know how long you sat there contemplating what Steve had done. You thought about how long he had wanted to do that. How long you had wanted him to do that. If he wanted something more. If he regretted it. 

If he loved you as much as you loved him.  

----- 

It had been two months since that fateful day, and you and Steve had barely spoken six words to each other. It pained you to your very soul, not having your best friend by your side. Not being able to vent to him, to argue with him, to bake with him, to dance with him. You were lucky if you got two hours of sleep a night now that you didn’t have Steve’s warmth by your side.  

You attempted to discretely track his progress in adjusting to life as an Avenger, and you also watched him be paraded around like a cash cow. He was sent to so many parties, fundraisers, and campaigns that even he lost track. He quickly adjusted; morphed into the person everyone needed him to be.  

After all, he was still Captain America. 

But he didn’t know if he was the same Steve. 

The event you had been pushed into tonight was a fundraiser for a charity no one but you had bothered to research. Tony had organised it as a big publicity stunt disguised behind well-meaning philanthropy. Steve was gliding through rich donors, politicians, and journalists like a shark cutting through water.  

You watched as he made small talk, smiled politely, laughed at unfunny jokes, and flirted with many, many women. That was the worst part. Every time some unnamed blonde laughed or blushed at his witty charm and zillion-watt smile, your stomach churned. It was an uncomfortable pain. 

You had felt like that for two months. At first, it was a sharp and acute betrayal. Something that caused you to sob into your pillow for hours on end. Then, it dulled into a constant heartache that numbed you until you didn’t have it in you to shed tears anymore. You laid in bed, motionless, staring into the dark with the feeling of Steve’s soft lips on yours, lingering in your mind. 

When Bucky sat down next to you with a groan, you quickly replaced your deep scowl with an indifferent grimace that could easily be blamed on the bright lights and much too loud rock music played by the band across the expansive venue.  

“You look absolutely miserable, doll.” Bucky said as he handed a glass of whiskey to you.  

“Aren’t you?” you mumbled back, taking the glass and taking a small sip of the liquor. You were never one for whiskey but you needed any way to numb the sting you felt watching Steve engrossed in conversation with a woman by the bar.  

“Fair enough. What are you scowling at, though?” Bucky asked. He followed your stare to where Steve was leaning against the bar while some blonde pushed him playfully while laughing and twirling her hair on a perfectly manicured finger. “Ah.” 

“It’s nothing, Bucky.” You spat. You just wanted to forget the whole thing. In the aftermath of your kiss with Steve you had let yourself believe that it could lead somewhere. 

How wrong were you. 

The knowledge that you had actually allowed yourself to dream that Steve actually wanted and that he had so flippantly played with your emotions caused a heartache unlike any other. You had always known you felt something for Steve, but you had learned to live with it and became the closest two friends could be. But this new pain was harsher and delivered with such precision that it destroyed your soul. You didn’t have it in you to care anymore.  

At least, that’s what you told yourself to avoid bursting into tears at any moment of the day. 

You absentmindedly conversed with Bucky for a few minutes while nursing your whiskey. When your glass was empty, Bucky pried it from your hands and grabbed your chin to force you to tear your stare away from Steve and the blonde.  

Bucky said your name in a way that caused you to finally tune in to what he was saying. “Did something happen between you and Steve? Ever since he came back you guys haven’t been the same. I don’t think I’ve seen you have a full conversation in months. Did he do something? Did he hurt you?” 

You started to shake your head but then stopped. He did hurt me.  

“I don’t know what to do, Buck.” you shrugged and spoke in a resigned tone. “I think I messed up.” 

“What happened?” Bucky pressed. 

“Steve...he kissed me.” 

“What?” Bucky’s voice raised and a few people turned to look in surprise. You smiled politely as your cheeks reddened and turned back to Bucky and glared at him to keep his voice down. “Sorry. What?” 

“He kissed me.” you repeated. 

“Steve kissed you? That’s why you haven’t been talking? That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Wait - Steve kissed you, right?” 

You nodded and furrowed your brow, wondering where he was going with this. 

“And he hasn’t said or done anything about it since?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That idiot.” 

You huffed an amused breath despite yourself. “That’s your best friend you’re talking about.” you reminded him in a lighter tone. 

“I don’t what’s going on his head, darling. I can’t believe he finally kisses you and then does this.” 

“Finally? What do you mean?” 

Bucky’s mouth opened then closed as if he only just realized what he said. “Uhm, I mean...you don’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

“Steve’s been in love with you since the 40s, darling.” 

Your jaw dropped to the floor. “What? What are you talking about? You’re lying.” 

“I’m definitely not, doll. He’s been telling me since day one how enfatuated he is with you. I can’t believe he actually did something about it.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of his drink while shaking his head in disbelief. 

Your smirk dropped when you said, “Did he? I mean, he kissed me then left me there and hasn’t talked to me for two months. If he loves me, then why hasn’t he said something?” 

“Maybe you need to confront him.” 

“I can’t, Jamie. I’m scared. What he thinks it was just a mistake? I don’t think I could handle it.” 

Bucky sighed and set his glass down. He grabbed one of your hands and placed a comforting kiss to your knuckles. It did little to calm your racing heart but you appreciated the gesture. Suddenly, Bucky’s eyes widened with a mischevious glint in his eye. 

“What are you thinking?” you squinted at your metal-armed best friend in front of you.  

“I’ve got an idea.” 

----- 

“Bucky, I don’t know about this.” 

“Come on, darling! Please, just do it for me if anything. You’ll be great.” 

“I haven’t done anything like this since the 40s!” 

“I’ve heard you getting back into it in the apartment when you think no one’s home. You can do it.” 

“I really hate you right now.” 

“You love me.” 

You watched as the hired singer handed off his mic to Bucky who was now on stage next to him, and your face burned with embarrassment as the man walked past and raised an eyebrow at you. The pink of your cheeks only deepened when you noticed how silent the room was as they waited for Bucky to say something. 

“Uh, hello, everybody. Some of you may know me, and if you do, you know I’m definitely not one for talking so I’m gonna keep this short.” 

You mentally facepalmed and considered just walking out of the building before he could embarrass himself or you further. 

“So, Captain America over there,” Bucky pointed directly into the crowd where Steve stood and everyone’s heads simaltaneously turned to him then back to Bucky. “He and I grew up together, and in 1938, we met someone super special.” 

You couldn’t fight the small smile on your face because you knew he was talking about you. 

“A woman who became our best friend. And a woman who happened to be incredibly talented. The bast jazz singer in all of Brooklyn.” 

Your enhanced hearing allowed you to pick up on a few people whispering your name. Even though you weren’t as well known as Steve and Bucky in regards to superhero status, you had watched in awe as people discovered your old albums and recordings and you became quite a well known singer in your genre, almost a century after your last recording. Your albums had sold millions of copies around the world in the last year alone. 

Bucky confirmed everyone’s suspicions when he said your name and beckoned you to join him on stage. You nervously tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and took a shaky step onto the stage. You saw many people smile in awe as you joined Bucky. 

“This amazing woman is one of the strongest people I know. And recently, someone hurt her. But I know she’s gonna get through it. And, if she needs me to, I will kick their ass.” 

Everyone chuckled and Bucky’s joke allowed some of the tension in your shoulders to be released. Bucky was doing what he did best – putting you at ease. 

“Anyway, I thought you all might like a special treat. For the first time in 80 years, she will be performing live.” 

A ripple of excited chatter went through the room and it warmed your insides. Hearing people get so excited to hear you made you more and more confident with each passing second.  

“Without further ado, I introduce my best friend and the best jazz singer in Brooklyn.” Bucky said your name like it was something holy and handed you the mic.  

You waited for the applause to cease before letting out a nervous exhale into the mic. 

“Hello, everyone. Uhm, like Bucky said, I haven’t done this for eighty years, so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty.” 

You looked towards the band on stage behind you and nodded at them to start. You listened intently to the opening chords; your super soldier hearing picking up most of the room leaning forward in anticipation. The moment you opened your mouth and the first note came out, all the tension faded away from your body and you felt at home again. 

“In a sentimental mood 

I can see the stars 

While your loving attitude 

Is like a flame 

That lights the gloom” 

A collective hush fell over the room as your voice drifted through the air. Time had touched cities, countries, and generations, but somehow it had never touched your singing. It was every bit as smooth, effortless, and captivating as it had been in the smoky jazz clubs of Brooklyn all those decades ago. The notes poured from you like silk; rich and warm without ever seeming forced, each lyric gliding seamlessly into the next. There was something magnetic about it, something that demanded attention without asking for it. Conversations died on people's lips, glasses paused halfway to mouths, and eyes turned instinctively toward the stage. Your voice wrapped itself around the room like a slow dance, intimate and enchanting, carrying the kind of emotion that couldn't be taught or replicated. Eighty years had passed since your last performance, yet the woman standing before them sounded exactly the same as she had in 1943—as though not a single day had gone by. 

Your eyes instinctively drifted to find Steve as you began the next verse. Looking for him as a beacon of comfort just like you had always done in performances. It wasn’t like you were nervous anymore – that had disappeared as soon as you’d grabbed the mic – but Steve had always been there like a paragon of encouragement. Someone you saught out in the crowd. Someone to sing to.  

“On the wings of every kiss 

Drifts a melody 

So strange and sweet 

In this sentimental bliss 

You make my paradise complete” 

You maintained intense eye contact with the top of Steve’s head – that's right. He refused to look up at you. You had expected as much, but if you were being honest, you were hoping the song would trigger some nostalgiac instinct and he would look up at you and realise his mistakes. 

“Rose petals seem to fall 

It’s all like a dream to call you mine 

My heart’s a lighter thing since 

You made this night 

A thing divine” 

Finally, Steve looked up at you. He found you staring right back at him. In an instant, he was transported back to the first time he ever saw you perform. It was some half-full, ashtray scented, sketchy little place, but your voice lifted it to the height of luxury. He watched as you seemlessly enraptured every patron and cleared the air of any discourse – the only sound was your gorgeous melody.  

That was the night he knew he loved you. 

As you continued your song, it seemed like everyone else had faded away. It was just you and Steve staring back at each other as the band played the smooth jazz accompaniment. As you led into the final verse with some improvised riffs the impressed cheers and claps brought you back to reality. 

“In a sentimental mood 

I’m within a world so heavenly 

For I never dreamt that you’d be 

Loving sentimental me” 

The band played the final chord and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The sound nearly defeaned you, especially with your enhanced hearing, but you kept your focus on Steve’s face stitched with admiration and wonderment. 

He was looking at you like he used to do whenever you stood in front of a microphone. 

You handed the mic back to the singer who quickly signaled to his band to continue their set, but not before shaking your hand and complimenting your performance. 

As you stepped off stage, you just wanted to find Steve. But the crowd had other plans. You were instantly bombarded with cheers and enthusiastic pats on the back from complete strangers. People were gushing over your performance, asking questions about whether you would be performing again or releasing a new album, and trying to get you to perform at their own events.  

You politely brushed them all off and pushed through the crowd to get to Steve. You saw him over the shoulders of a few rich donors that had created a blockade between you two. He signaled to the door to the balcony and you nodded subtely, silently agreeing to meet him out there when you managed to escape the madness. 

----- 

“That was definitely something.” Steve said softly as you closed the door to the balcony and turned to face him. 

“Thanks.” you said with hesitancy. Honestly, you didn’t know what to do. You took a tentative step towards him and leaned on the balcony next to him; you facing out over the garden, and him with his back leaned against the wooden railing and facing the door. As if he was ready to escape at any moment. 

But you prayed he didn’t. 

“Can we talk, Steve? Please.” 

He turned to look at you and one look at your desparate, lonely eyes and he knew he could never say no. Ever. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve rotated his body to lean against the railing, mimicing your posture, and the change settled your fear that he would take off running.  

“What did you think? Of the song?” you decided to ask. 

“It was amazing. Just as amazing as the day we met. It’s incredible how your voice hasn’t changed a bit.” 

You smiled softly at the compliment. Normally you shuddered at compliments – never liking people gushing over your accomplishments – but when Steve offered them, you just felt warm and fuzzy inside. 

But the warmth from that sentence wasn’t enough to combat the chill in the air that night. You shivered. A miniscule action that would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Steve was atuned to your needs that he instinctively shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it around your shoulders. 

“Do you remember that club in Brooklyn?” 

“The one with the terrible drinks?” 

“The one with the terrible everything.” 

You both laughed softly and you saw some of the tension dissipate from his shoulders. But you noticed his hands still gripped the lapels of his jacket that was draped on your shoulders. He held on to you with a death grip, which you thought was funny, because out of the two of you, he was more likely to run. 

“I remember you were worried all the smoke would affect your voice. Even back then you were a total diva.” 

Your smile widened as you delicately placed a hand on one of his that still held his jacket. 

“That was the first time I saw you sing.” 

Your heart skipped. 

“Steve-” 

“That was it for me.” 

Your body stilled at his confession. This is it. He’s saying it. 

“You walked on that stage and suddenly, no one else existed. I’ve been yours ever since.” 

His eyes refused to leave yours. You saw hope, desparation, and love swimming in those eyes that you’d loved since your twenties.  

“I didn’t run because I regretted it.” his words began to spill out so quickly they almost overlapped. “I ran because you kissed me back.” he laughed once, humourlessly. One of the hands on the jacket moved to rest gently on your hip. “You kissed me back. For years, I told myself it wasn’t real. That you were my best friend. That if I told you, and ruined our relationship, it would be selfish. And it would’ve been my fault. And I also thought that if you felt the same way, I would’ve known.” 

You frowned and wrapped your hand around his forearm on the arm still holding the jacket.  

“But then you kissed me back.” his voice cracked and it sounded like he was still that reckless, hopeful teenager again. “And suddenly everything I’d wanted since I was nineteen was sitting right in front of me. And I got scared.” 

The vulnerability in his voice scared you – and him. After Steve became the great Captain America he had learned to eliminate any signs of weakness. He couldn’t afford to be open. He remembered all the nights you spent hours trying to coax his worries and fears out of him, only to banish them from his mind after a few minutes of cuddling.  

“You know what’s funny?” you finally spoke. Steve blinked like he couldn’t quite believe you were still there. “I spent seventy years hoping I would see you again. And then I did.” your words hit him like a punch in the gut. “And losing you for these past two months somehow hurt more.” 

“Don’t,” Steve whispered desparately. 

“Don’t what?” you bit back. “Tell you the truth? You kissed me, Steve. You kissed me, Steve. And then you left me there and didn’t speak to me for two months. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?” 

Your words cut him deep and stung like hell. Steve couldn’t stand the thought that he’d hurt you. But it was true. He was scared. 

“I waited seventy years for you, Stevie. I didn’t expect to lose you the day you got back.” 

Steve eyes brimmed with tears and he moved a hand to cup your face. You couldn’t help but lean into it as he stepped closer to you; one hand on your hip, one hand on your cheek, and his face close enough to yours to feel every nervous exhale.  

“I’ve always been yours.” 

“Bucky told me.” you stated plainly. You just needed him to admit it right out. 

“What?” 

“He told me. Everything.” 

“I’m gonna kill him.” Steve muttered under his breath and he cast a glance down at his shoes.  

“Just say it, Steve. If it’s true, then say it. And if it’s not...” you trailed off. You couldn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t vocalize the thought of this all being some big understanding and if Steve didn’t actually feel anything for you. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” he blurted out. He kept repeating it over and over until your eyes were the size of dinner plates. “I love you. I love y-” 

You cut him off with a firm kiss to his lips. It was different to the one you shared two months prior. That was tense, experimental, and rushed. This one was delicate, sure, and a declaration of every feeling in your heart.  

Steve instantly kissed you back and pulled you closer as he moved his lips against yours. You were about to pull away when his tongue brushed your bottom lip, asking for permission. Who were you to deny him?  

You didn’t know how long you were kissing your best friend, but you knew you were almost panting for air when you separated. Steve looked equally ruined, but he didn’t look frightened and erratic like the last time you kissed. No, now he looked soft and exposed. Like he already knew what you were going to say. 

“I love you too, Steve.” you admitted. “I love you so much it hurts.” 

“You’re my everything.” 

Steve pulled you in again. The kiss was much more passionnate than the first – or second, technically. His tongue swept your bottom lip and you let him in without hesitation. Steve was hooked on your taste and you were intoxicated by the feeling of him in your arms.  

You almost didn’t notice his hand drifting down from your face and settling on your hip. He pulled you impossibly closer and your hips brushed his. His right hand began to wander to grip your thigh and pull your leg up- 

“Ahem.” you heard a throat clearing behind you and you pulled away from Steve slowly. You already knew who it was. “I expect full credits at your wedding.” 

“Really, James?” 

“You’re a little punk, Barnes.”  

“My how the tables have turned.” 

Bucky playfully sauntered over to you as you laid your head on Steve’s chest. You felt him place a soft kiss on your hair and it caused your heart to flutter.  

“Gross. I’m happy for you guys, but I don’t need to see this.” 

“You wanted this, James.” 

“You know you’re the only person who can call me that, right, doll?” 

Steve’s grip tightened around your waist at the nickname and all of you noticed.  

“Already possessive, Rogers?” Bucky raised an eyebrow but you just laughed and looked up to face Steve. 

“Definitely. Now that I’ve got her, I’m not letting her go.”  

“Well...I’m gonna go back inside. Leave you to it. Also, expect to be absolutely hounded by people in there, darling. People have been coming up to me for the last ten minutes demanding to know where you are.”  

You hardly paid his words any mind as he slipped back into the event. You were too busy gazing into Steve’s eyes. You felt like you were drowning in them, but the need for air was doing the opposite of crushing your lungs – it was giving you life.  

“You are mine, right? Because I don’t think I could handle letting you go now.”  

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” you confirmed. Steve nodded in relief and pressed a gentle, featherlight kiss to your lips before saying, “We should probably get back in there.” 

It was another ten minutes before you actually made it back inside, but Steve didn’t let his hand fall from around your waist or shoulders for the rest of the night. Sure, people were asking a lot of questions and photographers were snapping photos left and right, but Steve kept responding in the same way – placing a kiss to your cheek or temple and saying “She’s finally giving me a chance.” 

For the rest of the night, Steve was whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you swayed together on the dance floor. For once, not caring what the public saw, and just basking in each other’s presences.  

----- 

“Have you guys seen this?” 

Bucky said as soon as you and Steve wandered into the kitchen much later than normal – it was 8:00 AM, but, still. Usually you were both showered, had had breakfast, and were halfway into your workouts by now. But neither of you had it in you to get out bed that morning. Eventually, Steve dragged you out bed when your stomach growled, with promises of coffee and pastries. 

“What’s up?” 

“Literally every news article is about your surprise hard launch last night.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep.” 

“Not surprised.” 

“Ha, look at this comment. They’re saying they’re disappointed because they thought Steve and I were together.” Bucky showed his phone to you as Steve poured two mugs of coffee.  

“Don’t put that in my head.” Steve shuddered jokingly and wrapped an arm around your waist.  

“Hey, you could do a lot worse than me!”  

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Nightlight

Pairing: Enemy!Loki x Reader, Avengers x Villain!Reader

Summary: You're sent after Loki to bring him back to Odin. Before you can drag him away from the Avengers, Loki calls out something embarrassing about you - the root of your petty rivalry.

A/N: this is a bit of crackfic lol, and reader has powers like this fic

WC: 1.6k

The Avengers were frantically dispersed throughout the streets, trying to fend off as many Chitauri as they could while protecting civilians. Tony was locked in a battle, alone, on the roof of the Avengers tower with Loki. 

He sent repeated blasts towards the God of Mischief who merely dodged with little effort and kept phasing in and out of existence to drive Tony mad. After a few minutes he honestly forgot about his little take-over of New York City and was purely having fun messing with the great Tony Stark. 

That was, until Tony was knocked to the ground by a powerful stream of light descending from – seemingly – nowhere. He was flat on his back and struggling to get back up from the force of the hit. 

“What the hell was that!” Tony said, exasperatedly. “I didn’t know you could do that.” 

“I can’t.” Loki said through gritted teeth. “But I know who can.” 

“Huh?” Tony managed to get on his side and leaning on his arm and looked at Loki confused. He lifted his mask and looked around the roof but couldn’t find where the energy had come from. 

“Alright. Just come out! We don’t have time for one of your dramatic entrances!” Loki yelled and started turning in circles and tilting his head at empty space, seemingly waiting for something to appear out of thin air.  

For a moment Tony thought that he had gone temporarily insane. Instead, he heard an ethereal, echoing voice from the air around them.  

“You’re no fun.”  

Suddenly, you made yourself visible, standing right next to Tony on the floor. Tony squinted at the bright, glowing vignette around your figure. It slowly faded and Tony finally got a better look at you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Tony demanded. 

“Calm down, budget transformer.” you said dismissively as you stepped over his body and walked straight over to Loki. You stopped a few feet in front of him and pointed a finger accusingly. “It took me forever to try and track you down, lord melodrama.” 

Tony tried to hold back a snicker at your nickname even thought he was still majorly confused. Suddenly, his jaw dropped at the sucker-punch you delivered to Loki’s jaw. He couldn’t hold back his laugh at that. But he quickly shut up when you sharply turned your head and glared menacingly at him. 

“You me to knock you off this roof? Then keep quiet.” 

For good measure, you sent a blast of energy at his chest and he was knocked flat on his ass again.  

“Did my father send you again?” Loki said as he rubbed the side of his face and winced at the pain. “He’s always sending you after me.” 

“It’s not like I enjoy it, frosty. I don’t want to be within five hundred miles of you normally – but your father offered a generous payment. I still hate you, but I happen to like money more.” You said snidely and smirked at his eyerolling and exasperation at your presence.  

Tony watched on curiously as you continued berating Loki for the inconvenience he caused you. He blinked in surprise at the way Loki even flinched a few times at your harsh words and threats. 

“I’m sorry – are you on our side?” Tony finally butted in. 

You scoffed and looked at him like he was insane. “As if. But I’m definitely not on his.” 

You turned your attention back to Loki and ignored Tony’s continued fascination.  

“I need to deal with you.” 

“Why? You haven’t wanted to come near me for a century since...well. That.” 

You narrowed your eyes at his implication and stepped closer to him, getting right in his face before saying, “Don’t even think about it, sparkle prince.” 

Loki tried to maintain his smirk, but Tony noticed his slight gulp at your threat. Was Loki scared of you? 

By now, the Avengers had actually managed to clear the Chitauri and save the city – man, you must’ve been tearing into Loki for almost fifteen minutes straight. They had all joined Tony on the roof in spectating your telling-off of Loki.  

Needless to say, they were all thoroughly entertained.  

Thor finally arrived, and upon seeing you, he let out a hearty laugh. 

“Witchy!” He said excitedly. He was about to embrace you in a bear hug but you sent a quick blast of light at his stomach that caused him to stumble backwards a few feet.  

“Not my name, Odinson.” you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose in exhaustion. 

“Yeah, brother. It’s Nightlight.” Loki chimed in, unhelpfully. 

“Shut it!” You barked and Loki quickly shrunk but didn’t stop smiling at your irritation. 

“Thor, do you want to explain who this is?” Steve asked as he grabbed Thor’s shoulder to steady him. 

“Ah, yes. This is the Lightwitch!”  

Everyone raised their eyebrows at you and you just rolled your eyes. 

“Thor, I do not have time for this. I just want to get out of here, but I want my payment from your father.” 

“I was wondering why you were here. I thought you never wanted to see Loki again after that time he told everyone that y-” 

You sent another blast of light at Thor’s stomach, cutting him off. “Thor. Don’t test my patience right now.” 

“Right. Sorry. Forgot we don’t talk about that.” 

“But it’s so funny.” Loki sniggered and you turned your attention back to him. 

“I’m about to beat you up if you don’t drop it right now.” 

“Is she on our side?” You heard Clint whisper to Thor.  

“Nope. Not on your side, not on his side. Just want my money.” 

“Wait - I could’ve sworn Strange mentioned something about a Lightwitch one time.” Bruce chimed in. “Yeah, he did. He said you were one of the most feared villains of all time.” 

All the Avengers immediately stiffened and looked at you like you were suddenly going to explode. 

“Relax. I’m not a villain. Technically.” you shook your head at their defensiveness. “I just...like chaos. Nothing malicious. My powers just happen to be quite great.” 

Clint narrowed his eyes and Natasha’s hand was still hovering over her gun strapped to her waist.  

“What am I doing? I’m not here to hand out business cards.” You shook your head and shifted your attention back to the slimy, greasy-haired antler prince you currently were holding by gripping a fistful of a patch of fabric in his armour. “I’m here to bring you back to Asgard and get. my. money." 

“But I’m having so much fun.” Loki said sarcastically. “What if I were to tell these Avengers about...that thing. That you’re-” 

You cut him off with an uppercut to the jaw and you heard the Avengers collectively groan at the way Loki instantly fell to the concrete. “Still sensitive, are we?” Loki egged on. 

“I’m trying really hard not to kill you right now.” You said as you leaned down and got up close and personal. “But I like money. And your father wants you back alive. For reasons I’ll never understand.” You muttered the last part to yourself as you stood back up.  

“You’re not in charge of me. You know I’m technically your prince?” he said, looking up at you.  

“Get up, your high maintenance.” 

Tony – for the fourth time in twenty minutes – couldn't hold back his snicker.  

“I’m still so confused.” Steve said. 

“Well, it’s not for you to understand. Is it, Captain Spandex?” you said crudely. 

Tony let out a full chuckle at that one. 

“Got something to say, human spark plug?” 

Tony shook his head with a smirk and tilted his head down towards the ground to try and hide his smile. Even when the nicknames were directed at him, he couldn’t help but lose it. 

“Come on, Loki. Let’s go.” as Loki was slowly getting up, you took the opportunity to look at the city below you. 

It was completely destroyed. 

“Gotta say, for a discount sorcerer, you did pretty good.” you nodded your head, impressed despite yourself, at the damage Loki had done. Even if you hated him, you still had to appreciate a good chaotic scene where there was one. 

“Thank you.” Loki said as he finally got back on his feet. “I guess there’s no way I’m not going back to Asgard with you, huh?” 

You shook your head and sent a stream of light to his hands that formed a bind around his wrists you knew he could never break – even with all his little magic tricks. 

Loki sighed deeply. “I think you owe me now. I mean, I’m letting you get the satisfaction from keeping me tied up, sooooo.... I think I get to tell everyone your secret.” 

You quickly tackled him to the floor and put a hand on his mouth, but he still yelled out, “Shme’s amfraid omf dmumcks!”  

“What did she say?” 

“He said she’s afraid of something.” 

“No, I think he said her birthday’s in May.” 

“And why would she tackle him for telling us her birthday?” 

“I think he said...she’s afraid of ducks.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“Wait-” 

You hung your head in resignation and lifted your hands from Loki’s mouth but stayed straddling his hips.  

“You happy?” 

“Very.” Loki nodded excitedly like a child being offered ice cream. 

“I hate you.” you said through gritted teeth. 

You got off of him and pulled him up by the hair. You ignored his pained yelps and simply punched him in the stomach – you didn’t need your powers to almost break a rib. 

You rolled your eyes at the muffled snickers coming from the Avengers. 

“You’re afraid of ducks?” 

“Ducks? Really?” 

“Like the little yellow birds?” 

“That is...possibly the best thing I’ve heard in my life.” 

“Let me get this straight – a feared supervillain is afraid of ducks?” 

“This is amazing.” 

You dragged Loki with you as you walked towards the edge of the roof. The Avengers stopped laughing for a split second when they thought you were about to walk off the roof with Loki in your grip, but instead you and Loki both disappeared in a flash of light. 

“I guess that’s dealt with.” 

“Hehe. Ducks.” 

----- 

You dragged Loki through the hallways of the palace, entirely ready to drop him at Odin’s feet and step on him as you walked away. Of course, Loki had to get in some final snarky comments.  

You kicked open the grand doors to the throne room and spotted Odin sitting in his chair and he stood at the sight of you storming in with Loki in tow.  

“You enjoyed that.” 

“You screamed ‘she’s afraid of ducks’ in front of a bunch of superheroes.” 

“You tackled me.” he said with a smile. 

“You deserved worse.” 

You threw Loki to the ground at the base of the stairs leading to Odin’s throne. 

“Well done, Lightwitch. Your payment will be forthcoming. Apologies for the inconvenience.” 

You nodded at Odin and turned to walk away.  

“Same time next century?” Loki called out. 

You waited a bit before responding, “As long as I’m still getting paid.” 

“Maybe I’ll tell them about the horse next time.” 

Without missing a beat, you threw up a middle finger behind you and stormed out of the room. 

----- 

“Why are you all here to deliver a file?” Fury said as he sat down behind his desk and began to read through the file the Avengers had compiled with everything they knew about you. 

“No reason.” Tony said with a smirk. 

“Lightwitch...Loki’s personal retrieval agent...unknown allegiances...” Fury kept reading down the page and nodding along. 

But he paused at the last line. 

“...Afraid of ducks?” 

A few of Avengers completely abandoned professionalism and just burst out laughing at Fury’s deadpan tone. 

“I don’t get paid enough for this.” 

A/N: did i just make a villain that's afraid of ducks? yes i did.

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Green

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Odin is expecting you to finalise your betrothal to Thor at the banquet before his coronation. But you have a different plan. While Odin saw you and Thor as the perfect match, you fell in love with his brother. So, you defy all expectations, and show up to the banquet in...a different colour scheme.

Warnings: none

WC: 1.5k (sorry didn't have the motivation to write more)

“I think you should do it.” 

Frigga’s voice made you jump slightly before you turned back towards the door where she was standing calmly with a hand on the door frame. When your shock faded, you smirked and turned back to the mirror in front of you. 

“Won’t Odin be angry? I mean, it is blatantly against his wishes.” you asked.  

“My husband is...stubborn. But he can’t change what you feel. I think you should go for it. I’ve seen how happy you two make each other.” 

Frigga walked to you before settling behind you and draping the silk cape over your shoulders. It trailed a few inches behind you, slightly longer than the dress you wore – complimenting the bright, shining silver stitching of the gown.  

“You look stunning, darling.” 

“Thank you, Frigga. I hope it goes well.” 

“Nothing denying my husband’s expectations can go well. But it will all turn out alright in the end.” her voice was calm and certainly did not reflect yours which was laced with anxiety and anticipation. 

But you also couldn’t help but feel courage at what you were about to do. Any act of a defiance towards the leader of the nine realms could result in chaos, and this was an act of defiance if there ever was one. 

“Let’s go.” 

----- 

The banquet was in full swing, pre-empting Thor’s looming coronation. Odin was sat at the head of the long table; Frigga on his left, Thor on his right, and Loki next to Thor.  

Frigga was having a pleasant conversation with Thor about his excitement and Odin was nodding along proudly. Loki, on the other hand, was stoically silent and kept frequenting glances at the empty chair next to him.  

Frigga was discretely checking in on her quieter son and checking the grand, wooden doors to the banquet hall. Waiting for you to walk in. 

“Where is that girl, Thor?” Odin interrupted his conversation to question his first-born son. 

“I don’t know, Father. Probably just finishing getting ready.” Thor nodded to his father and reassured him. 

“She’s a fine woman, isn’t she. She will make a fine queen for you, son.” 

Thor simply smiled and cast a knowing glance at his mother. Thor also knew what was going on. 

Loki, however, did not. 

Boy, was he in for a surprise. 

----- 

The sound of goblets being laid down and gasps rippled down the table. The doors to the banquet hall stood wide open and you were taking confident steps through the room. 

Frigga smiled proudly and Thor smirked. Odin and Loki’s faces were actually quite similar. Except Odin’s shock was angry. And Loki’s shock was, well... 

Admiration. 

You looked majestic. Floating through the hall in an intricate silver, sparkling gown that made you look like a goddess. 

But the shocking part wasn’t your beauty – although that never failed to make people’s heads turn normally. The thing that made everyone frantically turn to Odin to see if he was losing his head was your cape. It was... 

Green. 

A deep, forest green that complimented your hair and gown perfectly.  

You see, tonight was the night you were supposed to finalize your betrothal to Thor. And everyone, including Odin (and Loki), expected you to arrive to the banquet and coronation decked in Thor’s colours –  red and silver.  

But what they didn’t know, was you were never going to go through with this marriage. You and Loki had fallen in love. And there was no way you could leave him. 

----- 

“I’ve got an idea.” Thor stated, interrupting your weekly visit with the children of Asgard. You apologized and excused yourself to the kids and turned to Thor. 

“What are you doing, Thor? I’m in the middle of something.”  

“I’ve got an idea. On how you could show Odin you don’t want to marry me without causing, well...chaos.” 

“How?” You were extremely sceptical of whatever Thor was about to suggest. Of course, Thor wasn’t stupid...but he tended to be headstrong and not realize that his plans often bulldozed over politeness and common sense. Anyway, you doubted even Frigga’s ability to come up with a plan to defy Odin that wouldn’t end in chaos.  

“Well, the banquet before my coronation is where my father will be expecting you to declare your intentions to marry me.” You rolled your eyes at his statement even if was just a fact. “Hey! I take offense to that. You would be lucky to marry me.” Thor defended himself. 

“Thor.” 

“Sorry. Anyway, traditionally, a future bride would make appearances in her soon-to-be husband’s armorial colors. So, instead of showing up in red...” he trailed off, hoping you would finish his sentence. 

You did. “Green. I could wear green. But do you really think me just showing up in another color will be enough to signal that I’m in love with Loki?” 

Thor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just smiled widely and laughed. 

“Thor? Why are you laughing?” 

“Sorry. It’s just strange.” 

“What is?” 

“To hear someone so confidently declare their love for my brother. I’m happy for him.” 

You smiled softly before signalling him to continue with his explanation. 

“Odin will take the hint. It certainly won’t be the end of the issue, but it will be a start. And it would be much safer than trying to bring it up in a private conversation. Odin is less likely to lose his temper in front of his subjects.” 

You raised an eyebrow at that. Odin would lose his temper wherever and whenever he wanted. 

“Just trust me. I think this is the best way.” 

“I guess it’s all we’ve got. I’ll talk to Frigga about securing an outfit.” 

----- 

You made eye contact with Frigga from across the room and she gave you a reassuring smile as you made your way to your seat.  

Loki frantically stood up as if he’d been shaken out of a trance to pull your chair out for you. You smiled sweetly at him and as he bent to sit back down, he brushed your ear with his lips and whispered, “That is certianly an outfit, darling.” 

You kept your eyes on each other as the rest of the banquet hall stayed dead silent.  

You never wanted to stop gazing into his eyes, but you knew you had to face the music. You shifted your gaze to Odin who had a deep scowl on his face, contrary to Thor and Frigga who both sported proud grins.  

Odin sharply turned to Thor and his smile vanished instantly. Only then did Odin seem to remember that he was sat in front of 100 of his subjects.  

“Nothing out of the ordinary here. Please. Resume your feast.” he nodded stiffly to the rest of the table. 

Everyone, very slowly, shifted back to their conversations and burying their faces in food. No one wanted to get involved in this latest family drama.  

“What is the meaning of this?” Odin snapped at you.  

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Loki straightened his posture and put himself between you and Odin’s threatening stare.  

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” 

“Father,” Thor tried to intervene. “I hope this gives you your answer as to whether or not this fine lady and I shall be married.” 

You could’ve sworn you heard Odin growl at Thor’s sarcasm.  

“Frigga, did you know of this?” 

“Certainly not, my love.” Frigga shrugged her shoulders innocently at her husband.  

“So, what is this supposed to signify?” Odin asked Loki and you. 

“It means...” Loki began. He turned to look at you and laced his fingers with yours under the table. Loki hesitated trying to say it plainly to his father. You knew Loki struggled with showing affection and declarations of love even to you, so saying it to his father would be a task. “It means that I...I am in love with her.” 

You couldn’t help but smile and you squeezed Loki’s hand tightly. He turned back to you and said your name softly with love and admiration. “I love you. This is amazing.” 

“I love you too, Loki. So much.” 

“This is unacceptable!” Odin nearly yelled, causing a few men sat at the next chairs over to turn their heads in surprise.  

“Father, perhaps we should just talk about this later.” Thor said, trying to end the situation.  

“This is not over. We will discuss this after Thor’s coronation.” Odin said sternly.  

You were nervous, no doubt, but the feeling of Loki’s hand moving to rest on your thigh calmed you instantly.  

His eyes were still on you and he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. This did not go unnoticed by Frigga and a few of Thor’s closest friends sat next to you.  

You don’t know how long you were gazing into Loki’s eyes, but you knew the Odin grew angrier with every passing minute. 

Whatever. 

You had the person you loved in front of you. Not to mention the support of his family. 

It would all turn out alright. Or maybe it wouldn’t.  

Either way, nothing could destroy your love. Not even Odin.  

[buckybarnesisbbg]

I Knew It!

Pairing: Bucky x reader secret relationship

Summary: Bucky and you have been dating for a few months in secret, and you finally decide to go public. Let's just say, Sam literally short-circuits at seeing you cuddled up with Bucky, watching a 90's rom com.

Warnings: none just fluff!

WC: 2k

You were in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee, finishing a mission report when you heard footsteps coming from the hallway. You took a sip and looked over the rim of the cup as they walked in. You couldn’t stop a timid smile from forming behind your mug, but you tried to school your expression before you put it down. It didn’t really work, but at least you looked less like a schoolgirl after her crush just waved at her across the lunch hall.  

Bucky made sure to glance around the kitchen to confirm no one was there before he walked behind you and placed his metal hand on your lower back. He stood behind you with his chest to your back and set his head on top of yours.  

“How you doing, doll?” He asked softly. You set down your pen and turned your chair to face him. You gazed up at him and he put his right hand delicately on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and sighed dreamily.  

“Better now. I’m just finishing this report.” 

“Well, after dinner, I was thinking we could slip out to that ice cream place you’ve been wanting to try. The one by the lake?” He tilted his head with only love in his eyes. You quickly nodded and smiled at how he remembered the detail you’d mentioned only once a few months ago. “Great. I should probably get back to the gym I just came to grab some water.” 

He laid a quick kiss on your forehead, grabbed a bottle from the fridge and left. You watched him leave with a big grin on your face. You turned back to your report, wondering how you could finish the work when you were so excited for your date tonight.  

You got up to grab a snack from the pantry when you knocked something off the counter next to you. You bent down to pick it up and realized it was a folded up piece of paper. You opened it and it made you smile even more.  

“Can’t believe I have to wait five whole hours to kiss you again 

-BB” 

He had drawn a little ice cream cone in the corner along with a small heart.  

God, you were so in love. 

Dinner with the Avengers was always chaotic, but especially when everyone came back from missions and there was a huge fight about what you were ordering for dinner. Steve and Bucky voted for Chinese food, Natasha and you voted for pizza, Wanda and Tony for burgers, and Sam and Clint for burritos.  

You ended up ordering something from about seven different places and everyone ate buffet style. You were all spread throughout the common room – you were on the floor leaned against Natasha’s chair – but all you could think about was the distance between you and your secret boyfriend.  

You thought you were being sneaky with your constant fleeting glances at him from across the room; almost laughing out loud when he made eye contact and rolled his eyes at Sam and Tony fighting over the last spring roll. Neither of you order the Chinese food, idiots! 

But, when you’re surrounded by super spies and assassins, even the best disguised interactions are noticed. Natasha was giving you and Bucky suspicious looks throughout dinner – completely unnoticed by you two, though. She was curious as to why you were staring at Bucky, but even more so as to why Bucky was looking at you back. He even smiled once?! This was new. Bucky hardly smiled even with the people he was most comfortable with, like Steve. But now he was rolling his eyes dramatically, grinning like a child, and winking flirtatiously at the only Avenger who might be even more reserved and quiet than he was.   

——————————- 

It didn’t take Natasha long to put together that something was going on between the two of you. Between the longing eye contact, suspiciously timed disappearances from the tower, and you quickly rushing to opposite sides of the room whenever someone walked in – it was getting obvious. Not that anyone other than Natasha noticed.  

One night, she approached you after dinner and cornered you in the elevator.  

“You and Barnes.” She said plainly. It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. A fact.  

“Wha-huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You said nervously. You knew you weren’t going to change Nat’s mind. There was no way you could convince a trained spy that you weren’t dating the Winter Soldier when she’d been collecting evidence for weeks.  

“Yes, you do. You and Barnes are together. What’s the situation?” She probed further.  

You cocked an eyebrow at her questioning. It could’ve just been her natural interrogation instinct wanting to dig deeper, but Natasha never showed an interest in the personal drama of teammates. It occurred to you that she might just care more about you than anyone else – after all, you did have shared history in the Red Room.  

You didn’t talk much. But – after Bucky – Natasha was probably the person you talked to and trusted the most.  

“Uh, we’ve been together for about four months now.” You said, and you could hardly stop the giddiness in your voice from just stating the fact. Bucky and you could’ve easily passed off as a couple with twenty years of marriage under their belts with the way you were comfortable around the other and just how much you knew about each other.  

“Nice. Hope he doesn’t screw it up.” She said, sounding indifferent, but you could detect a hint of sincerity in her voice. She got off on her floor and you decided to head to Bucky’s room instead of yours. I practically live in his room, anyways, you thought as you walked down the 7th floor hallway to your boyfriend’s room.  

Bucky took the news of Natasha finding out surprisingly well. You thought he might freak out, given how he was adamant in keeping this a secret since the beginning.  

“I knew someone would figure it out eventually,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and putting his hands on your waist to pull you in closer. His touch made you shiver and light up with happiness. Bucky’s warmth made you feel safe like nothing else could.  

“Fair enough. I doubt she would tell anybody, but soon enough the others are going to deduce something’s going on. Maybe…we could try going public?” You said hesitantly, testing the waters of not being a secret anymore. In truth, there were many times you wished with all your heart to cuddle and hug and kiss Bucky when other people were around, but you couldn’t. You’d been wanting more for a while but were too scared to bring it up yourself for fear of rejection. Now, you had the perfect in.   

“I’m fine with that. Are you?” you smiled at his consideration. Bucky never did anything without making sure you were 100% comfortable. You nodded and whispered your agreement. 

Bucky let out one his rare, full smiles. The kind that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle but still made him look like a teenager again. You loved that smile. 

--------------- 

You were sitting on the couch, practically in Bucky’s lap, with your legs spread out on top of his and your head on his shoulder. One of your favourite rom-coms was playing on the TV, and while you were deeply invested and reciting lines from memory, Bucky was completely entranced with you. He was playing absentmindedly with your hair and looking at your content face and child-like smile.  

God, I’m so in love with you, doll. 

At first, you both had been nervous about displaying affection in public spaces, but now Natasha and Wanda both knew. None of the boys had realized yet – no surprise there – but Bucky didn’t care anymore. He was just thrilled to be able to hug and cuddle you wherever he wanted. Speaking of... 

You attention to the TV was broken when you heard Sam, Steve and Tony loudly arguing from the hallway. You looked up at Bucky and realized he had already been staring at you. 

“Were you even watching the movie?” 

“Definitely, doll.” 

“Sure about that? What’s the main character’s name?” you quizzed him. 

“Uh,” he quickly looked up at the screen but you had paused the film. “Hannah?” 

You snickered and shook your head before saying, “Not even close.” 

“Well, I was much more entertained just watching you.” 

“Creep.” 

“Your creep.” 

You tilted your head up and Bucky met you halfway in a sweet, soft kiss that both of you were smiling into. It was at that moment that the boys walked in the common room. 

“Woah, woah, woah!” 

“Terminator!”  

“I’m sorry, what?” 

You pulled back first and turned to look at the boys with a smirk. Bucky, however, just kept his eyes on you with a dreamy gaze. He looked at you like you just hung the moon and stars. It was just a kiss, Bucky. 

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” you said cheekily. 

“You and metal arm? I guess it makes sense. I mean, you’re both possibly the quietest people I’ve ever met.” 

“I’m still confused.” 

“I’m happy for you, Buck.” 

Bucky finally shifted his eyes away from you to thank Steve softly.  

You decided to just let them stew in their shock and shifted to cuddle further into Bucky’s side and he adjusted with you, tightening his grip around your waist and pressing a kiss to your hair.  

You heard Tony scoff at that and Sam was still sputtering at the fact that his friend had hidden this from him for...actually he didn’t know how long. 

“How long has this been a thing?”  

“Hmm, almost five months?” Bucky responded. 

“But the girls have known for like two weeks now.” you added. 

“Nat and Wanda knew?!” Sam shrieked. 

“Jesus, tweety bird.” Bucky said. “Calm down. Unless you’re trying to communicate with your pigeon friends, you can bring down the pitch.” 

“I’m not in the mood for bird puns right now, Terminator.” Sam said with a disappointed tone. “You didn’t tell me. I’m your best friend!” 

Bucky looked at him pointedly. 

“Alright, fine, maybe not best friend but we talk sometimes! I’m offended.” 

You smiled at their continued bickering, just basking in the warmth of your teddy bear of a boyfriend. Steve tilted his head and smiled widely at how happy you looked – and how Bucky wasn’t recoiling at all from your deep, physical affection. His friend had finally found something good in his life.  

“Come on, guys. Let’s let them watch their movie.” 

“But, I still have questions! Vending machine, back me up here.” 

“Yeah, I’m with him. I’m still so confused.” 

“Let’s go.” 

“But-” 

“They’ll answer all your questions later.” 

“I didn’t agree to that!” 

“You will be subject to a full interrogation at dinner.” 

“Both of you.” 

Steve finally dragged them out but you didn’t miss Sam’s little I'm watching you gesture at Bucky and you sighed at their antics.  

“They’re ridiculous.” 

“They’re your friends.” you pointed out. 

“Hey, Tony’s just as protective of you as Steve is of me. I would expect a full lecture from him.” 

“He’s gonna give it to you too, you know.” you countered. You literally saw Bucky’s face go pale and his eyes widen with fear. You laughed loudly and put a hand on his chest. “Calm down, babe. He...probably won’t kill you.” 

“Well, I hope not. Because I’ve got date night planned tomorrow.” 

[buckybarnesisbbg]

He Made His Choice

A/N: I wrote this while listening to A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be and it's honestly like the saddest song I've ever heard if you haven't listened to it I would wait until you really need to cry 😭

Pairing: Steve x Reader turns to Bucky x Reader

Summary: You knew what he was going to do before he ever stepped onto the platform. And he did what you expected. He left. For Peggy - the woman you always knew his yearning for was stronger than his love for you. Years later, you find someone who will forever reassure you that he'll never leave you.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: Steve leaving but nothing major really

“You’ll come back to me, right?” your voice was shaky and expectant. You knew what he was going to say. And you knew it would be a lie. 

Steve nodded hesitantly and placed a hand on your cheek. “Hmm. Wish me luck.” 

He didn’t even try.  

The last trace of a smile on your face dropped and you took a small step back. It was miniscule, but Steve took the hint. He dropped his hand and his gaze to the floor.  

“I need to do this.” he refused to make eye contact but he could feel you burning holes into his head. “I love you.” he said – but you knew it was just a last resort to make you forgive him.  

It wouldn’t work. 

“Funny timing.” you snidely retorted. He frowned and you almost regretted it. 

“I don’t want you to doubt that. I do love you.” he repeated. 

“I’m sure you do.” you shook your head at him as soon as he worked up the courage to look you in the eye for the last time. “That’s what makes this worse. You love me enough to leave anyway.” You could feel tears testing the boundaries of your dignity, but you resisted and simply stared into his eyes filled with regret and sorrow.  

You wouldn’t let him see you cry at his selfishness. 

You turn away and go to walk away and you’re almost twenty feet away by the time you hear Bruce telling Steve that he should be back in ‘5 seconds’. Your feet stopped by themselves and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. 

You turned your head to look at him one more time. He was already looking at you. He mouthed I’m sorry one final time before telling Bruce to send him back.  

He took one final glance at you before he disappeared but you just shook your head in disappointment. Your eyes burned with tears as you watched Bruce and Sam scramble to bring him back.  

You knew it was futile. He wasn’t coming back.  

Bucky was standing about ten feet in front of you and he rotated his head to check on you. He had a sceptical look in his eye and they widened when you saw you nearly shivering from trying not to sob. He walked over to you and wordlessly pulled you into a hug. 

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and, at first, you stood motionless. But it wasn’t long before you had a death grip around his waist; hoping that if you held him tight enough you could force the tears back down the depths of your soul.  

Bucky pressed his lips to your hair and stroked the back of your head with his flesh hand. 

“He loves you. As much as I know you’re doubting it...he does.” 

“I believe you. I just don’t think it matters anymore.” you sniffled and buried your face into his chest, trying to hold back the waterfall. 

“It’s ok. He made his choice.” Bucky said softly. His statement wasn’t much, but oddly, it comforted you.  

Steve made his choice. 

But you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.  

----- 

Your love for Steve was a consistent, small flame that burned you from the inside out. With every touch, you felt the unease in your chest. The flame wasn’t much but it had given you solace in times of great pain. But you knew a slight wind would extinguish it. So you kept it secured in your heart and turned your back to the wind. But you always felt the breeze. You were always on the defensive. 

Throughout your relationship, you had always known that Steve was still in love with Peggy. That wasn’t necessarily the part you had a problem with. Peggy was Steve’s first love and he was always going to be attached to her.  

The problem came when you realized just how attached he was. You realized in little things, like how he moped whenever he was cut off while reminiscing about Peggy. He was constantly bringing her up on date nights. Whenever you had managed to have a nice moment when he would declare his love, it would always end with ‘I haven’t felt like this since Peggy.’  

You knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it always made you feel like Steve was with you to fill Peggy’s spot. And there was no way you could do that. 

From everything Steve had told you about Peggy, she was an extraordinary woman. Steve would’ve been insane to not love her. But how could you fill compare to such an amazing woman? A woman Steve loved so deeply? A woman who Steve seemed to miss more than he loved you. 

----- 

Bucky walked you over to watch Sam speak to Steve. His arm was still around your shoulder and your head rested on his chest. 

You had no reaction to Steve handing over the shield. Sam looked back at Bucky when he held the shield for the first time and he gave you a sympathetic glance. Your face remained neutral as you watched Steve and Sam shake hands.  

Sam walked back over, set the shield back in its case and laid it in the grass beside you. 

He sighed heavily and said to you, “He wants to talk to you.” 

You blinked in surprise. You shifted your eyes to Bucky and he just shrugged half-heartedly. 

“It’s your choice. You don’t owe him anything.” 

“Are you going to talk to him?” you asked Bucky. You weren’t really sure why you were asking his opinion but you also knew that Steve meant a lot to Bucky too, and even though he was the one comforting you currently, he must also be feeling a lot.  

Whether it was sadness, like you, or happiness at Steve’s ability to live the life he always wanted – you didn’t know. 

You forced your legs to move forward and bravely left the warmth and safety of Bucky’s arms. Every step towards Steve made you more uneasy but you knew you needed closure. 

You stopped at the end of the bench and Steve was looking out at the lake in front of him. He was old now; wrinkled and tired. But he was still Steve. 

Your Steve. 

No. He wasn’t yours anymore. You looked him up and down and it didn’t take long to spot the golden ring, twinkling in the fading light. 

“So...how’d it go?” 

You didn’t want the answer. Technically, you already knew it.  

He married her.  

He got what he wanted. 

“Good. I had a life with Peggy. Picked up where we left off-” he cut himself off when he realized what he just said. 

You scoffed and shook your head. “I’m happy for you, Steve. I really am. I always knew you could never as much you loved her.” Your voice was a resigned whisper.  

You were just...tired. 

“I really loved you.” he said. 

Loved. Past tense. 

“Don’t say that like it fixes anything.” you said sharply.  

Steve looked at you and whispered your name softly. He meant it with all sincerity and apology. But it wasn’t enough. 

“I don’t want you to be angry with me. Obviously I came back to hand off the shield. But I also wanted to talk to you. It kills me knowing you’re hurt.” 

“I think you want me to forgive you more than you loved me.”  

Steve lowered his head at your remark. You took that as a sign that you had hit the nail on the head. 

“You’re right. I do want your forgiveness. But you shouldn’t doubt that I loved you. So much.” he kept trying to convince you even though he didn’t need to.  

He repeated that statement over and over that it was hollow. 

“You should’ve loved me enough to stay. You already made your choice, Steve.” 

He opened his mouth again but you cut him off. “Goodbye, Steve. I’m happy you got what you always wanted. Because it was never me.” 

You turned away from him and made a beeline back to Bucky. 

“You can go talk to him now.” your voice was no longer on the verge of breaking. There was a bit of anger left over, but you had said what you wanted to say. And it was all true. 

Bucky gave you a sad smile before walking past you to talk to Steve. You tried to shift your focus to Sam and the shield and offered to go test it out in the training room with him. He knew you needed a distraction so he took you up on your offer and you both left for the tower. 

----- 

“Is she gonna be okay?” Steve asked Bucky.  

“I don’t know, punk. She’s in a lot of pain. She finally let a person in and they left her. That’s not gonna be easy to get over.” Bucky found himself getting slightly defensive but he didn’t have the energy to wonder why.  

Why was he getting angry at Steve for hurting you?  

Why did his heart hurt so much seeing you on the verge of tears at the hand of his best friend? 

Why was a voice in the back of head echoing ‘I could treat you better’ as he held you in his arms?  

Who knows. He would figure it out later when you weren’t an emotional trainwreck waiting to happen. 

“You care about her, don’t you?” Steve inquired with a tone that implied he already knew the answer. Bucky’s brow simply furrowed. 

“Well, she’s my friend. Yeah I care about her.” 

“But...you care about her in a different way. Don’t you?” Steve pressed. 

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and Steve could tell.  

“Yeah, you do. I knew it.” 

“Steve...don’t do this. There’s no point in me feeling this. There’s no way I could ever tell her. Plus, she just loved the person she loves most. I couldn’t dump this on her.” 

“You love her?” 

Bucky’s mouth opened to deny it but he just closed it again.  

“I knew it.” 

“Stop saying that.” Bucky’s tone wasn’t playful and Steve’s smirk dropped at it. “What is that supposed to mean? You knew this whole time? Or did you realize it while you were living out your fairytale life with Peggy.” 

“Buck...” Steve raised his eyebrows at Bucky’s insult. He knew he was just lashing out. And Bucky did too. 

“Sorry.” 

Bucky nervously gulped and blurted it out before he could stop himself. 

“I do. I care about her. Maybe not love, necessarily-” 

“Buck. Come on.” 

“I don’t love her, Steve!” he almost yelled.  

Okay. Maybe he did. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit that yet. 

“Alright. You’ll come to terms with it eventually. She’s something, isn’t she? You’d be crazy not to fall for her.” Steve’s smile returned.  

Bucky felt something was wrong with the statement. “If she’s so amazing...why’d you leave her?” 

“I got the chance to live the life I always wanted. Since before going in the ice. If you got the chance to go back and live your life like none of this ever happened, wouldn’t you?” 

“Not if I had a woman I loved now.” Bucky criticized.  

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m sorry I left you. And her. But it’s done now. And I’m happy.” 

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m glad you got the opportunity.” 

“Don’t waste yours.” Steve said as he patted Bucky’s shoulder.  

“Come here, Punk.”  

Bucky pulled Steve into a gentle hug that communicated everything that was left unsaid.  

“Bye, Steve.” 

----- 

Four years later 

----- 

“How you doing, doll?” Bucky plopped down on the couch next to you with your favourite mug full of tea. 

“Still shaken. Just hoping Bob’s okay.” You nodded but kept your gaze on the steam rising from your tea.  

“Doll...look at me.” Bucky put a finger under your chin and lifted your head to face him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently, not forcing. 

You thought about what you had seen in your shame rooms and quickly forced the memory back down. You shook your head.  

“Okay. I’m always here.” 

Bucky lifted his arm and you instantly cuddled into his side.  

“You’re not gonna leave me, right?” 

You asked the question maybe three times a day, but he always answered. He always reassured you with love and dedication. 

“Never. I love you, doll.” 

A year ago, when he told you that, there would still have been the lingering doubt of the truth of his words. But now... 

You knew. 

He loved with all his heart and he showed you every minute of every day. 

Your love for Bucky wasn’t a vulnerable little spark - it was a roaring flame that could never be extinguished. It could handle a breeze.  

And even though it glowed brighter and hotter than your love for Steve ever did, it never burned you.  

Bucky made sure of it. 

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Hi, Bob.

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader, Thunderbolts x Reader, Platonic!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky invites you to the old Avengers tower - a place you had avoided since you left after Thanos. But, you cave and visit. Bucky's delayed on a mission, so you make yourself at home. You're interrupted by the Void but you manage to bring Bob back. You talk to him for hours and when the rest of the Thunderbolts return, they are surprised, to say the least, at Bob animatedly conversing (and laughing?) with a retired Avenger.

WC: 5k

Warnings: alluding to depressive episodes

You stared up at the looming, magnificent grey tower in front of you. It gave an intimidating, unwelcome aura. It was nothing like the one you had lived in for ten years. 

You hadn’t been back here in three years. Since Steve went back to the past, Sam became the new Captain America, and Valentina Allegra De Fontaine swept the tower out from under Pepper's feet.  

You had heard about the ‘New Avengers’ that Valentina had founded. It was stupid. So incredibly stupid. Sure, the world needed a new defence system, but the Avengers were never even close to functional, and there was no way this new team would be anywhere close. 

No offence to Yelena and Bucky, though. You had known Bucky ever since you fought with Team Cap and you had been a major part of his adjusting to the real world. He certainly wasn’t perfect – and he would be the first to tell you that – but Bucky was probably the most experienced of the new team.  

You had met Yelena when Natasha had died. You were visiting her grave when Yelena had very hostilely approached and asked how you knew her. You got to talking and while you still don’t know much about her, you knew you liked her. She was blunt and sarcastic and protected those she cares about fiercely.  

You didn’t know pretty much anything about the other members of the Thunderbolts (an odd name, you thought) but you had no desire to interact. The Avengers became your family since Fury recruited you to help sort out Tony Stark, but your life with them had never been easy.  

As soon as everything was sorted out with the Infinity Stones, you had left. You had moved to a suburban neighbourhood in Cambridge, looking for a quiet life. You hadn’t found anyone to share that life with yet, but you held out hope.  

Now, gazing into the tinted glass doors of the entrance to the old Avengers tower, you were replaying every memory you had made with the Avengers here. Good and bad. This tower had been the site of some major growth for you but also held secrets and traumas that you had hoped to never revisit. 

You didn’t want to go inside, but you knew you had to. As strong as your desire was to get away from this Tower as soon as you could, you wanted to talk to Bucky. 

A few weeks ago he had texted you but neglected to inform you it was him until about ten minutes into a one-sided conversation where you left him on read out of pure confusion as to who was texting you about “coming back home – if you could call it that” and “I might not be there when you get there but I think you might appreciate sealing off that chapter of your life.” 

When he finally realized you might be intrigued by a total stranger texting you such things, he declared who he was and you immediately called him.  

The conversation was brief and awkward, but you had ultimately agreed to come back to New York for a night and Bucky would introduce you to the new team. You knew he definitely had an underlying motive – whether it was to recruit you or send you a help signal to get him the hell out of there under the disguise of an old Avenger revisiting her glory days, you weren’t sure.  

You forced your legs to carry you through the doors before you lost your nerve and walked away forever. The tower felt industrial and cold, no longer welcoming and disarming like it had been with the Avengers.  

You were receiving suspicious glances from construction workers and supervisors in suits but no one stopped you. You wondered why until you noticed a chain of people leaning to their neighbor and whispering behind their hands.  

They recognised you.  

As much as you hoped for everyone to forget you, your name would be etched in history as one of the most powerful Avengers ever.  

—— 

They had called you Nova Blast. You hated it. It was accurate, sure, but it felt showy and childish compared to what your actual abilities entailed. 

You were human – technically. A lot of scientists thought your DNA would be severely mutated now, but you had never let anyone poke and prod you to write it down in some little chart. Not even Bruce.  

You had incredible abilities that allowed you to give even Wanda a run for her money. You had the power to harness energy and manipulate it however you liked. This often manifested in the form of streams and blasts of light.  

When you were first “revealed” to the public, it was when Loki attacked New York. You had knocked down an entire Chitauri ship alone, and the sheer amount of energy you used caused a cloud of light that blinded the next three blocks – hence, Nova Blast. This blinding, however, included your fellow Avengers and Tony never failed to point out the tiny scar on his leg from where he fell over a sidewalk crack when you had temporarily blinded everyone.  

The media and dubbed you Nova Blast and almost immediately there were t-shirts, music, artwork and so much more with your name plastered on it.  

You had always hated attention, even before you were a superhero and exposed to the public eye in that degree. So that much scrutiny and inspection, was practically your kryptonite.  

—— 

You tried to keep your head down as you made your way to the elevator, expertly dodging people who tried to approach you. You quickly pressed the button to the floor where the common room was – if it was still there. There was a chance Valentina had redecorated. That thought settled in your stomach and unsettled you as rose. Even if you never particularly liked the tower, seeing Valentina alter it in any way would’ve been too much for you. This was still the Avengers tower, and she had no right to erase the history of it.  

You were snapped out of your reminiscing when the elevator dinged, signaling you had arrived. You stepped out of the elevator, relieved to enter the common room.  

You didn’t take another step forward, however, and just stood still, taking in the space. You hadn’t been anywhere near this place for nearly four years. Your eyes darted around and you took in every detail that had changed.  

It felt darker. It smelled like industrial cleaning products. It felt…stuffy.  

You blinked and realised tears were slowly falling, silently down your cheeks. You wiped them away fervently and pulled out your phone. You shot a text to Bucky.  

Y: Bucky, where are you? I’m at the tower like you asked.  

B: Sorry. Still en route from mission. 

Y: How far are you? I can’t stay here all day.  

B: About twenty minutes.  

B: And we both know you have nothing better to do.  

His words stung but they weren’t entirely false.  

Y: Rude. Just hurry up. 

B: Thanks for coming, Nova.  

Y: Well, I didn’t have anything better to do, right? 

You shoved your phone into your back pocket before he could respond, tuning it on silent, and wiped away the last trace of tears before forcing yourself to step further into the common room.  

----- 

You ignored the buzzing that came every thirty seconds from your phone, knowing it was Bucky asking if you had already left. It had been ninety minutes since he had said ‘about twenty minutes’ but you were too tired to leave. The train ride back to Cambridge was almost four hours and it was already 7:30 in the evening. You frankly didn’t have the energy to go back tonight, so you were wandering the halls trying to find an empty room. 

When the Avengers had lived here there was a bounty of guest rooms in case people were staying over. They hardly ever got used, except maybe if there were trainees doing internships with the team, but it was still odd to walk through the halls and see offices after offices instead of cosy bedrooms. You finally stumbled upon doors that didn’t have glass windows and assumed they were where the Thunderbolts stayed.  

It was probably an invasion of privacy – no, definitely – but you were curious. You opened doors unceremoniously, knowing no one was home.  

The first room was clearly Bucky’s. Everything was neat and tidy, and there were black-and-white photos of him and Steve throughout the room. The bed was made and there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. You rolled your eyes at his cleanliness and thought to the state of your own home; certainly not to his military standard. When you were getting to know Bucky you realized he liked routine and adhered to the standards he accepted when he enlisted all the way back in the 1940s. Bucky liked to reminisce and found that he could actually adjust better to the modern world by grounding himself in past traditions. 

The next room, you guessed, was Yelena’s. It wasn’t quite as pristine as Barnes’ - she apparently had a habit of leaving projects half-finished and strewn about on her floor, from dirty laundry to what looked like a watercolor painting of a skyline. You let out a puff of air at that one. You did not peg Yelena as an artist. 

----- 

It was thirty minutes later when you found yourself gravitating towards the kitchen. It was just past 8:00 and you were bored of snooping. After setting your bag down in what appeared to be an empty bedroom, you returned to the kitchen to scrap together a meal.  

You found a yoghurt and some fruit in the fridge and decided it would do. You made your food and settled at the counter and dug in. You were messing around with your powers, unfolding and refolding a basket of napkins, when a noise startled you to drop one off the edge of the marble countertop. You hoped it was Bucky and pulled your phone out to text him, just to double check. 

Y: Are you back yet? 

B: Valentina cornered us when we got back. In a briefing. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. 

You rolled your eyes at his consistent post-poning.  

B: Find a room to stay in. It’s late. Sorry to do this to you. 

Y: Already settled in one.  

Y: Also, I’m eating your food. 

B: Can’t say I didn’t expect that. 

You put your phone down and titled your head suspiciously, wondering who had made the noise. They were all supposed to be on a mission.  

You went to the common room to investigate but it was almost pitch black. You couldn’t feel the light switch on the wall so you made your own light source with your powers.  

You flicked your hand and sent a stream of light that seeped into the walls themselves. It gave the room a soft, yellow glow. You widened your eyes at what it allowed you to see. 

A jet-black silhouette of a person standing in front of the window. You approached cautiously and prepared to defend yourself if needed with energy dancing on your fingertips. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” you asked sharply. 

The silhouette flinched and turned. When it was facing you, your eyes widened further and your jaw dropped. This...man, if that’s what it was, was completely dark – void of any life. You couldn’t even see the whites of his eyes. 

You expected him to attack and raised your hand between you and him. “I’m not going to ask again.” 

He took a step towards you and you were about to fire in his direction before you heard a meek whisper.  

“Help me...please.” 

His voice was strained and almost sounded like he was fighting through something to get the words out.  

“Ye-yelena. Is she here?” he asked timidly.  

Your eyebrows furrowed at his inquiry. “You know Yelena?” 

“Please. Is Yelena here? He’s back again and I don’t know what to do.” the shadow in front of you was clutching its stomach. You narrowed your eyes and spotted tips of brown hair an inch above his shoulder.  

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” You decided this person wasn’t a threat but stayed on edge. This was definitely like nothing you’d ever seen before. You stood in front of the being for a few moments in silence while trying to piece this together. 

You didn’t know what to do, so you decided your only option was to fight darkness with the opposite: light. And luckily, you had just that. 

You conjured a sphere of energy in your palm and slowly lifted your hand out to him. He flinched backwards but you didn’t give up. 

“Can I try and help you? I just need you to tell me who you are.” You kept your voice steady when you questioned him, but technically, you didn’t need the answer. You had realized who this was. 

Bob Reynolds. Sentry. The Void. All his names flooded into your mind. 

“B-bob. I don’t think you want to get any closer.” his voice was becoming shakier and weaker.  

“Ok. Do you want to take my hand?” 

“I don’t think you should do that. You don’t know what could happen.” 

“I know exactly what you can do.” in the back of your mind was the fear of what would happen if you couldn’t get this under control. You knew what happened to people who got sucked into the Void. “But I’m not scared.” Lie. “I’m just here to help you.” True. 

Bob’s arm steadily raised towards your outstretched hand. As his hand got closer to yours, you swore you could’ve felt your breath being sucked out of your body and a darkness encroaching on your vision. But you didn’t back down.  

When his fingers entertwined with yours you sucked in a sharp breath. You could feel all his pain. You didn’t know why, but it felt like all his trauma and sadness was transferred to you.  

You tried to keep focus and keep your head above water. You conjured more light in your other hand and placed it above his in yours. Slowly, his hand started to regain normal color.  

You tried to keep thinking happy thoughts and a reassuring smile on your face as it seemed to help. But it wasn’t feeling right to you. It only felt like your pain was increasing. For every inch of his skin that was being revealed from the shadow, your pain was amplified. Perhaps you were solving his problem by giving it to you, but you didn’t have it in you to stop and leave him in his pain.  

After what felt like forever – but was really only two minutes – Bob Reynolds stood before you, back to normal. Bob swayed slightly on his feet after the darkness finally receded from his skin. 

You loosened your grip on his hand slowly, terrified that if you let go too fast he would disappear back into that endless shadow. Your chest ached violently now, like someone had reached into your ribs and wrapped cold fingers around your lungs. 

But Bob looked…better. 

Not completely okay. Not even close. Still pale. Still exhausted. Still carrying that haunted look behind his eyes. 

But human. 

“You’re alright,” you whispered, more to reassure yourself than him. 

Bob stared down at his own hands like he’d never seen them before. His breathing came in uneven bursts. “You…you pulled me out.” 

“I think so.” 

“No one’s ever done that before.” 

The words sat heavily between you. 

You finally took a proper look at him now that the darkness was gone. Chestnut hair curling slightly at the ends. Broad shoulders hunched inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. A face that would’ve looked kind if pain hadn’t carved itself into every feature. 

He looked terrified of himself. And somehow that hurt worse than seeing the Void. 

“You should sit down before you collapse,” you said quietly. 

Bob blinked at you as though he’d forgotten you were there. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.” 

“You apologize a lot.” 

He gave a weak shrug. “Usually because I’m causing problems.” 

Something in your chest twisted. 

God. You knew that feeling. 

You guided him carefully toward the couch in the common room. The yellow glow you’d embedded into the walls still illuminated the room softly. 

Bob sat gingerly on the edge of the couch like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch the furniture. You stayed standing for a second, watching him. 

“You...you don’t recognize me?” you finally asked. 

He frowned apologetically. “Should I?” 

You almost laughed at that.  

Fair enough. You’d been gone for years. 

You pulled your phone from your pocket and unlocked it. After scrolling for a moment, you held it out toward him. 

“This might help.” 

Bob took the phone carefully. 

It was an old photo Tony had forced everyone into taking after the battle against Ultron. You remembered complaining the entire time because Clint had spilled coffee on your shirt ten minutes earlier. 

The team stood together in the old common room. 

Steve smiling faintly. Natasha leaning against the counter. Thor grinning like an idiot. Bruce halfway through blinking. Tony pretending not to care. 

And you stood in the center beside Wanda, arms crossed while Sam made bunny ears behind your head. 

Bob stared at the picture for several long seconds. 

Then his eyes widened slightly. 

“Oh.” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re her.” 

“That narrows it down.” 

“The Nova Blast.” 

You physically winced. Bob immediately noticed. “You hate that name.” 

“So much.” 

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“You were an Avenger.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

That earned the smallest huff of laughter from him. The sound surprised both of you. You sat down across from him now, folding one leg beneath yourself. 

“I left after everything with Thanos,” you explained. “Needed out.” 

Bob nodded slowly like he understood more than you were saying. 

“I get that.” 

Silence settled for a moment. 

Not awkward. Just careful. 

Bob handed your phone back gently. “I’ve heard about you.” 

“That’s concerning.” 

“Yelena said you were scary.” 

You snorted. “Yelena thinks anyone emotionally stable is suspicious.” 

“She also said you punched a Leviathan out of the sky once.” 

“In my defense, it was a very emotional day.” 

That made him laugh again. A real laugh this time. Quiet, but genuine. 

You found yourself smiling before you could stop it. It felt strange. 

You had expected tonight to dredge up old grief and awkward reunions with Bucky. Instead you were sitting in the dark with Bob Reynolds at nearly nine o’clock discussing alien invasions. 

Life was weird. 

Bob rubbed nervously at his palms. “I didn’t think you’d be nice.” 

You frowned. “Why?” 

“You’re…you.” 

“That explains nothing.” 

“You’re powerful.” 

The way he said it made your stomach sink. Like power automatically meant danger. Like strength and kindness couldn’t coexist. You understood that mindset too well. 

You leaned back against the couch cushions. “You know, when I first joined the Avengers, Thor accidentally shattered all the windows in the kitchen because I startled him.” 

Bob blinked. “What?” 

“I came around the corner too fast. He thought I was an assassin.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“I wish.” 

Bob stared at you for another moment before smiling faintly again. 

You continued, “Tony used to hide behind Bruce whenever I got angry.” 

“I don’t believe that.” 

“That’s because Tony lied constantly.” 

Bob laughed softly into his hand. The sound warmed something deep in your chest. 

Because it sounded rusty. Unused. Like laughter was foreign to him. 

“You really don’t act like an Avenger,” he admitted. 

“What’s an Avenger supposed to act like?” 

“I don’t know.” His gaze drifted downward. “Confident. Important.” 

You looked at him carefully. 

“Bob.” 

He looked back up. 

“I once cried in a Walmart because there were too many cereal options.” 

His eyebrows lifted. 

“Thor had to come get me.” 

“You’re serious?” 

“Dead serious.” 

A smile slowly spread across his face. 

“You’re weird.” 

“You’re one to talk, shadow man.” 

The smile faded a little at the mention of it. Immediately, his shoulders tightened again and you regretted the joke instantly. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay.” His voice dropped quieter. “I just never know when he’s gonna come back.” 

You stayed silent. Bob turned his stare towards the dark windows. 

“I can feel it sometimes,” he admitted. “Like something under my skin. Waiting.” 

Your chest tightened painfully because you understood. Not exactly – but enough. 

“There were days after Sokovia,” you said slowly, “where I was terrified to use my powers.” 

Bob glanced at you. 

“I thought if I lost control again, I’d hurt people.” 

“You?” he asked softly, sounding genuinely shocked. You almost laughed. 

The world saw legends. 

Not panic attacks. Not nightmares. Not guilt. 

You rubbed absentmindedly at your wrist. “Wanda and I destroyed half a HYDRA base in under four minutes once.” 

Bob blinked. 

“And afterward I locked myself in my room because I thought maybe I enjoyed it too much.” 

He stared at you carefully now. 

Not with fear – recognition. 

You continued quietly, “Power feels good sometimes. That’s the scary part nobody talks about.” 

The room went still. Bob swallowed hard. 

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” he confessed. 

You frowned immediately. “Why?” 

“Because part of me likes being Sentry.” 

The vulnerability in his voice nearly broke your heart. 

“You know what I think?” you asked gently. 

He shook his head. 

“I think bad people usually don’t spend this much time worrying about whether they’re bad.” 

Bob looked at you like no one had ever said that to him before. 

Maybe no one had. You suddenly wondered how often anyone really listened to him. 

Not monitored him. Not feared him. Not analyzed him. 

“You’re not scared of me,” he said after a while. 

It wasn’t a question. You considered lying. Instead you answered honestly. 

“I am.” 

His face fell slightly. 

“But I’m scared of myself too sometimes,” you added softly. “So I don’t think fear automatically means someone should be abandoned.” 

Something shifted in his expression then. 

Tiny. Fragile. Hopeful. 

Hours passed without either of you realizing. 

The common room lights eventually flickered back on automatically sometime after ten, but neither of you moved. 

You talked about everything. 

About Steve. About loneliness. About insomnia. About how strange it felt trying to exist after spending years saving the world. 

Bob confessed he didn’t understand how to talk to people most of the time. 

You admitted you’d once ignored Sam’s calls for two months because depression had hollowed you out so badly you couldn’t stand hearing concern in someone’s voice. 

Bob talked quietly about feeling empty even when surrounded by people. 

You told him about Cambridge. About quiet mornings and bookstores and how strange peace felt after constant chaos. 

At some point he relaxed enough to stop perching nervously on the edge of the couch. 

Then at some point after that, he started smiling more. 

Then laughing. Real laughter this time. 

You were halfway through telling him about the time Scott Lang accidentally destroyed Tony’s espresso machine when the elevator doors suddenly opened. 

Voices spilled into the common room first. 

Yelena’s unmistakable sarcasm. Walker complaining. Alexei loudly demanding food. 

Then silence. Complete silence. 

You turned your head toward the entryway. 

The entire Thunderbolts team stood frozen near the elevator. 

Bucky at the front. Yelena beside him. Ghost, Walker, and Alexei behind them. 

All staring directly at you and Bob sitting together on the couch. 

Bob was still mid-laugh. 

The room looked like someone had pressed pause on reality. 

Yelena blinked first. 

“…What the hell?” 

You leaned back casually. “Nice to see you too.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed immediately. “You’re still here?” 

“You said twenty minutes.” 

“That was—” 

“Nine years ago, yes.” 

Yelena looked between you and Bob with growing confusion. “Wait. Hold on.” 

She pointed aggressively at Bob. 

“You’re talking.” 

Bob’s smile vanished instantly. His posture curled inward again. You noticed immediately. 

“It’s okay,” you murmured quietly to him. 

Bucky caught that. And then he really looked at Bob. 

At the fact Bob was sitting near someone voluntarily. At the fact he looked calm. At the fact he wasn’t hiding. 

Astonishment crossed Bucky’s face. 

“Holy shit,” Walker muttered. 

“You made friend,” Alexei announced proudly to Bob like he was congratulating a toddler. 

Bob looked horrified. You burst out laughing. To your surprise, Bob laughed too. 

That seemed to break everyone’s brains. 

Yelena stared at him open-mouthed. “You laugh?” 

“Apparently,” Bob muttered. 

Bucky slowly walked further into the room, eyes still fixed on you. 

“You’ve been with him this whole time?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Nobody died?” 

You scoffed. “Rude.” 

“That’s not a no,” Walker muttered. 

“John,” Ghost warned. 

Bucky rubbed a hand down his face. “Nova.” 

“Barnes.” 

“You couldn’t behave for one night?” 

“I think I behaved remarkably.” 

Yelena ignored both of you entirely as she approached Bob cautiously like she was observing a rare animal. 

“You are smiling,” she said suspiciously. 

Bob immediately stopped smiling. 

You elbowed him lightly. “Don’t let them scare you.” 

“That sentence applies to all of us,” Ghost commented dryly. 

Bucky finally looked around properly. “Where the hell have you been?” 

You shrugged. “Exploring. Your room is disturbingly clean, by the way.” 

“I knew it,” Yelena said triumphantly. “I told him she would snoop.” 

“You left watercolor paint open on your floor.” 

Yelena gasped dramatically. “You went in my room?” 

“You literally have glitter on your ceiling.” 

“That is decoration.” 

“That's a biohazard.” 

Bob looked between all of you with quiet disbelief. 

You noticed. 

“They always argue like this,” you told him. 

“It’s comforting,” he admitted softly. 

Something about that statement visibly affected the room. 

Because they all heard it too. 

Bucky’s expression shifted subtly. Yelena looked genuinely stunned. Even Walker stopped looking annoyed for half a second. 

Because clearly this was unusual. Very unusual. 

“How long have you two been talking?” Ghost asked carefully. 

You checked your phone. 

“…Four hours.” 

Yelena nearly choked. 

“Four hours?” she repeated. “Bob barely talks to us for four minutes.” 

Bob looked embarrassed. 

You frowned at that immediately. “Well maybe no one’s asked him the important questions.” 

Walker crossed his arms. “Like what?” 

You looked offended. 

“Like whether he thinks penguins have knees.” 

Alexei pointed excitedly. “THEY DO.” 

“Thank you!” 

“This is not helping my confusion,” Walker complained. 

Bucky looked exhausted already. “I leave you alone for one evening and you emotionally adopt the most dangerous man on Earth.” 

“That sounds dramatic.” 

"I mean, you did offer to make me cookies, like, twice.” Bob pointed out. 

“And you accepted. They were delicious.” You countered. 

“Oh, cookie!” Alexei exclaimed and left to go find them in the kitchen. He came back ten seconds later with three cookies in each hand and two stuffed in his mouth.  

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is somehow the least surprising thing you could’ve done.” 

You grinned smugly. 

Then you noticed Bob had gone quiet again. The team’s arrival had clearly overwhelmed him. You softened immediately. 

“You okay?” 

Every single person in the room noticed how naturally you asked it. 

No fear. No hesitation. No monitoring. 

Just concern. 

Bob looked at you for a second before nodding slowly. “Yeah.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows lifted slightly at that. Because Bob answered you. 

Quickly. Honestly. 

You stood from the couch and stretched slightly, your body aching from the earlier encounter with the Void. Now that adrenaline had worn off, exhaustion settled heavily into your bones. 

Yelena immediately noticed. 

“You look terrible.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No, worse than usual.” 

You flipped her off affectionately. 

Bob frowned suddenly. “Wait.” 

You looked over. 

His expression tightened with concern. 

“You’re hurt.” 

The room quieted again. 

You tried to shrug it off. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re lying.” Yelena accused. 

Bucky looked instantly alert at that. 

“What happened?” 

You hesitated. Bob answered for you quietly. 

“The Void came out.” 

Every muscle in the room tensed. Walker swore under his breath. 

Yelena immediately stepped closer to Bob. “Are you alright?” 

Bob nodded once. Then looked at you again. 

“She stopped it.” 

Bucky stared at you sharply. “You did what?” 

You shifted uncomfortably under all the attention. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“The hell it wasn’t,” Walker snapped. 

You rolled your eyes. “Can everyone relax? He was scared.” 

“And you touched him?” Ghost asked carefully. 

You nodded slowly. 

Bucky looked genuinely horrified now. “Nova—” 

“He needed help.” 

The room fell silent again. Bob stared down at his hands. 

“She wasn’t scared after,” he said quietly. 

Your chest tightened. Because that sounded important to him. Important enough to remember. 

You walked over and squeezed his shoulder gently. 

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” 

Bob looked up at you slowly. Then nodded once. 

Yelena exchanged a look with Bucky that you couldn’t quite decipher. Something between confusion and cautious hope. Eventually, Alexei broke the tension loudly. 

“Good. Wonderful. Everyone alive. We celebrate with frozen pizza.” 

“That’s not a celebration,” Walker argued. 

“Is for depressed people.” 

“That’s…actually fair,” Ghost admitted. 

You laughed quietly. And to your surprise, Bob smiled again. 

Bucky noticed that too. You could practically see the realization forming in his head. 

That maybe bringing you here hadn’t been a mistake. Maybe Bob needed someone who understood what it felt like to carry something dangerous inside yourself. 

Someone who understood guilt. Isolation. Fear. Someone who didn’t look at him like he was already doomed. 

Yelena suddenly slung an arm around your shoulders. 

“You are staying,” she declared. 

You blinked. “I am?” 

“Yes. We are having girls night.” 

“That sounds threatening.” 

“It is.” 

Bucky groaned immediately. “Don’t drag her into your chaos.” 

“Too late,” Yelena replied. 

You looked toward Bob instinctively. He noticed. 

“You should stay,” he said quietly. 

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For a second, neither of you looked away. 

Then Yelena smirked knowingly. 

“Oh,” she said. 

Your eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.” 

“I say nothing.” 

“That’s worse.” 

Bob looked deeply confused. 

Alexei leaned toward him dramatically. “This is flirting.” 

Bob nearly choked. 

You covered your face with your hands. “I’m leaving.” 

“No you’re not,” Bucky sighed. “You already unpacked, didn’t you?” 

“…Maybe.” 

“You’ve been here one day.” 

“I’m adaptable.” 

Bob laughed again softly beside you. 

And weirdly enough, hearing that sound made the entire awful tower feel a little less cold. 

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Drop The Act Part 3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky x Reader, Enemies to Lovers

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Bucky was constantly on your nerves. And you were on his. You were too perfect. Your smile was too polished, your voice too delicate, your words too calculated. The public loved you, and you Valentina's only way to keep the Thunderbolts out of hot water with Congress. But, what happens when you drop the act? What happens when you stop hiding your tears behind a candy cane smile?

Warnings: panic attacks, kiss, alcohol consumption (but no one's drunk)

WC: 7k

The next morning, you woke up feeling like you had been hit by a truck. 

A very elegant truck wearing designer perfume and carrying a camera crew. 

Sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains of your bedroom, landing directly across your face like it personally hated you. You groaned softly and dragged one of your pillows over your head. 

Your body ached. 

Your social battery was not only empty — it had disintegrated entirely. 

And worst of all? 

The memory of last night replayed immediately. 

The balcony. Bucky’s hand on your arm in the elevator. That tiny, real smile you accidentally let slip. 

Your stomach twisted violently. 

Absolutely not. You sat up abruptly, rubbing both hands down your face. 

This was why emotional vulnerability was dangerous. One slightly genuine interaction and suddenly your brain wanted to obsess over it for twelve years. 

Pathetic. 

You glanced toward your bedside clock. 

9:12 AM. Too early to be alive. 

You considered staying in bed for approximately four seconds before guilt immediately won. There were reports to review, reconstruction calls later that afternoon, and you had already ignored two emails from Valentina sent at six in the morning. 

Psychotic behavior. With a long sigh, you forced yourself out of bed. 

— 

The training room was mostly empty when you arrived an hour later. 

Good. You needed to hit something. 

The gym smelled faintly like rubber mats, metal, and bad decisions. Familiar. Comforting. You tugged your hoodie over your head, leaving you in a black sports bra and compression leggings before wrapping your hands tightly. 

The punching bag hanging in the far corner immediately became your victim. 

You hit hard. Hard enough that your knuckles would probably ache later despite the wraps. 

Punch. 

Bucky’s hand on your arm. 

Punch. 

“You don’t have to act perfect every second of your life.” 

Punch. 

That stupid tiny smile he pulled out of you in the elevator. 

Punch. 

The bag swung violently. 

“You’re going to detach your shoulder.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin. 

Bucky leaned against the doorway holding a coffee cup, looking unfairly awake for someone who had also survived last night’s social torture. 

Your pulse betrayed you immediately. 

Annoying. 

“You creep around like a serial killer,” you muttered. 

“You punch bags like they owe you money.” 

You hit the bag one more time for dignity purposes before stepping back. 

Bucky walked further into the room slowly, wearing loose gray sweats and a dark compression shirt that clung distractingly to his arms. 

Your brain chose violence. 

Unfortunately, not the useful kind. 

“You’re staring,” Bucky said. 

Your eyes snapped upward instantly. “You wish.” 

“Hm.” 

God, he was irritating. 

He took another sip of coffee while watching you carefully. 

“You look tired.” 

“You say that like you didn’t look dead inside all night.” 

“Fair.” 

Silence settled briefly. Not awkward exactly. Just…strange. Different from usual. 

Like neither of you quite knew where the lines were anymore. 

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck once before speaking again. 

“You wanna spar?” 

You blinked. 

“What?” 

“You clearly need to hit something.” He gestured vaguely toward the abused punching bag. “Might as well make it productive.” 

Your first instinct was to say no. 

Your second instinct — significantly louder — wanted to wipe that annoyingly calm look off his face. 

“Fine,” you said. “But if you cry about losing, I’m not comforting you.” 

Bucky snorted softly. 

“There she is.” 

You ignored the weird warmth that sentence caused. 

— 

Ten minutes later, the two of you stood barefoot on the mat across from each other. 

The atmosphere had shifted entirely. 

Sharper now. Focused. Dangerous in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with actual violence. 

Bucky rolled his shoulders once. “You gonna keep glaring or are we starting?” 

You lunged first. 

Bucky barely blocked in time before you swept low toward his legs. He recovered quickly — annoyingly quickly — twisting behind you and catching your wrist. 

You countered immediately, throwing your weight sideways and knocking him off balance long enough to break free. 

“Oh, okay,” Bucky muttered, circling again. “So we’re trying to kill each other today.” 

“You noticed.” 

He came at you faster this time. 

Metal fingers caught your forearm briefly before you twisted beneath his grip, driving your shoulder into his chest hard enough to send him stumbling backward. 

Bucky laughed under his breath. 

Actually laughed. 

The sound did deeply unfortunate things to your nervous system. 

“You’ve been holding back during training,” he realized. 

You smirked slightly. “Maybe everyone else is just easier to beat.” 

“Cocky.” 

“You started it.” 

Bucky moved again suddenly, quick and brutal in a way that reminded you exactly why he had once been one of HYDRA’s most feared weapons. 

You blocked high — barely — before he caught your waist and used your momentum against you. 

The mat slammed against your back. 

Your breath escaped sharply. 

And Bucky was suddenly above you. 

One hand pinned your wrist beside your head. His knee trapped your thigh. His other palm braced against the mat near your shoulder. 

Too close. 

Way too close. 

Your brain short-circuited instantly. 

Bucky froze too. 

Both of you breathing slightly harder now. 

His hair had fallen messily into his face. Your pulse thundered stupidly beneath your skin. 

“You good?” he asked quietly. 

You hated how gentle that sounded. 

“Get off me, Barnes.” 

His mouth twitched. 

“You tapped out?” 

“In your dreams.” 

You hooked your leg sharply around his and twisted hard. 

Bucky swore under his breath as his balance disappeared completely. 

Then suddenly he was the one flat on his back. 

Your forearm pressed lightly against his chest while you pinned his metal arm to the mat. 

“Interesting,” you said, breathing hard. “Looks like you talk too much.” 

Bucky stared up at you. 

Your hair had partially fallen loose from your ponytail. Your skin glistened slightly with sweat. Your expression looked alive in a way he almost never saw outside missions. 

Not polished. 

Not perfect. 

Real. 

It hit him straight in the chest. 

Then he realized you were still on top of him. 

Your thighs pinned his hips enough to keep him grounded. Your hand wrapped around his wrist. 

And neither of you were moving. 

Something shifted in your expression too. 

Awareness. 

The dangerous kind. 

Your eyes flicked downward briefly — his mouth — before immediately snapping back up. 

Bucky noticed.Of course he noticed. 

His heartbeat went completely feral. 

Then you shoved off him abruptly like the mat had caught fire. 

“Again,” you said too quickly. 

Bucky sat up slower, trying very hard not to look affected. Failing miserably. 

“Right.” 

The next round was worse. 

Not because either of you fought badly. 

Because now every touch felt charged. 

Every blocked punch. Every grabbed wrist. Every accidental brush of skin. 

At one point Bucky caught both your wrists and backed you briefly against the padded wall. 

Your breath caught. 

His did too. 

Your bodies were pressed dangerously close for exactly one second too long before you shoved him away hard enough to create distance. 

“Distracted?” he asked, voice lower now. 

You glared. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Wasn’t planning to.” 

Liar. 

An hour later both of you were sweaty, breathing hard, and significantly more irritated with yourselves than before. 

Which probably explained why neither of you acknowledged the tension hanging thickly between you while leaving the gym. 

— 

Lunch in the communal kitchen should have been normal. 

It absolutely was not. 

You sat across from Yelena picking halfheartedly at a salad while pretending not to notice Bucky sitting diagonally across the table. 

Pretending very badly. 

Unfortunately, Yelena had the observational skills of a sniper and the subtlety of a car crash. 

“You two are being weird,” she announced. 

You nearly choked on your water. 

John looked up from his sandwich immediately. “They’re always weird.” 

“No,” Yelena said slowly. “Different weird.” 

Alexei gasped dramatically from the counter. “Ah! Sexual tension weird!” 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. 

Bucky looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

“There is no sexual tension,” he said flatly. 

Yelena pointed at him with a fork. “You have looked at her mouth six times in last three minutes.” 

The entire table went silent. 

Bucky blinked once. Then slowly looked at Yelena like he was considering murder. 

John immediately started laughing. 

“Oh my God,” he wheezed. “That’s why you’ve both been acting insane?” 

“We are not acting insane,” you snapped. 

“You threatened to throw a dumbbell at him this morning,” John replied. 

“In my defense, he deserved it.” 

“I asked you to move over.” 

“You invaded my space.” 

Bucky muttered, “You were using three benches.” 

“Because I was stretching.” 

“Sure.” 

Yelena looked delighted. “This is incredible.” 

You dropped your forehead briefly into your hand. 

“Can everyone stop psychoanalyzing us for five minutes?” 

Alexei leaned forward excitedly. “No.” 

Before you could threaten violence, FRIDAY’s voice interrupted overhead. 

“Director Valentina Allegra de Fontaine has arrived.” 

The entire kitchen collectively groaned. 

Perfect. 

Valentina swept into the room moments later in sharp heels and an even sharper expression. 

“You all look terrible,” she announced. 

“Good afternoon to you too,” John muttered. 

Valentina ignored him completely. Her eyes landed on you first automatically. 

“You left before I could debrief you last night.” 

“I was under the impression human beings required sleep occasionally.” 

“Debatable.” 

Valentina tossed a thin file onto the table. 

“There’s been a situation.” 

Every relaxed posture vanished instantly. 

Bucky leaned forward slightly. “What kind of situation?” 

Valentina crossed her arms. “A diplomatic one.” 

Which was somehow always worse. 

You opened the folder quickly, scanning the contents. 

Your stomach sank immediately. 

“Are you serious?” 

Yelena stole the folder next. “Ugh. Rich people.” 

“A prominent international donor claims sensitive intel was leaked during last night’s event,” Valentina explained. “Several government officials are already panicking.” 

John frowned. “Was something actually leaked?” 

“No,” Valentina said sharply. “But perception matters more than truth in politics.” 

Your eyes narrowed while reading further. 

“This source is anonymous.” 

“Correct.” 

“And somehow they specifically mentioned internal instability within the team.” 

Bucky’s jaw tightened instantly. 

Because suddenly the reporters’ questions from last night felt a lot less random. 

Valentina’s gaze swept across all of you carefully. 

“Which means either someone inside that ballroom wanted to damage public trust in this team…” 

Silence settled heavily. 

“…or someone here gave them a reason to.” 

The implication landed like a grenade. 

John immediately looked offended. “You think one of us leaked something?” 

“I think,” Valentina said coolly, “that public perception is fragile. Last night needed to be flawless.” 

Your shoulders stiffened automatically. 

Bucky noticed immediately. 

Of course he did. 

Valentina noticed too. 

Her eyes locked onto you next. “Fortunately, most of the media response has remained positive thanks to certain people maintaining professionalism.” 

The compliment somehow felt worse than criticism. 

You forced your expression neutral anyway. 

Bucky watched your fingers tighten slightly around your fork beneath the table. Tiny movement. Barely visible. 

But he saw it. 

Again. 

Something ugly twisted in his chest. 

Because suddenly he understood something very clearly: 

Valentina didn’t just rely on you. 

She used you. 

Used your perfection. Your composure. Your inability to stop carrying everything yourself. 

And the worst part? 

You let her. Probably because you thought if you stopped being useful for even one second, everything would fall apart. 

“Moving forward,” Valentina continued, “I expect everyone to remain especially careful around the press.” 

Her eyes flicked toward Bucky meaningfully. 

Bucky smiled humorlessly. “You mean me.” 

“If the shoe fits.” 

“It does,” Alexei whispered loudly to Yelena. 

Valentina ignored him. 

Then her attention shifted unexpectedly back toward you and Bucky together. 

Her gaze sharpened slightly. Assessing. Calculating. 

And for one horrible second, you had the distinct feeling she noticed something. 

Not everything. But enough. 

“Interesting,” Valentina murmured quietly. 

You immediately went on alert. “What is?” 

Her lips curved faintly. “Nothing.” 

Lie. 

Bucky leaned back in his chair slowly, eyes narrowing. 

Valentina picked up the folder again. “Briefing room. One hour.” 

Then she turned and left as abruptly as she’d arrived. 

Silence lingered for approximately three seconds after the door shut. 

Then Alexei pointed between you and Bucky dramatically. 

“She knows.” 

“She knows nothing,” you said immediately. 

Yelena looked deeply unconvinced. “Mhm.” 

Bucky rubbed both hands down his face. “Can we not do this right now?” 

John grinned. “Oh, we’re definitely doing this.” 

You stood abruptly, grabbing your plate before anyone could continue. 

“I suddenly remember why I prefer working alone.” 

“Because you’re emotionally repressed?” Yelena offered. 

You pointed at her warningly while backing toward the door. “I can and will throw this fork at you.” 

Bucky watched you leave the kitchen with far too much attention for someone supposedly annoyed by you. 

And unfortunately for him, Yelena caught that too. 

“Oh,” she said gleefully. “He is gone.” 

Bucky closed his eyes briefly. 

“I hate all of you.” 

---------------------------------- 

The briefing room was still humming with leftover tension when you left. 

You didn’t walk so much as escape. 

Your plate was half-forgotten in your hand, untouched food shifting slightly with every sharp step you took down the corridor. The fluorescent lights overhead felt too bright, too clean, too indifferent to the fact that your entire nervous system had just been set on fire in front of your entire team. 

She knows. That was the only thought looping in your head. 

Valentina’s smile. That pause. That look she gave you and Bucky like she was watching a story she hadn’t been told yet but already understood the ending of. 

She knows something is wrong. 

Or worse— 

She knows something is between you. Your grip tightened around the plate until your knuckles ached. 

“No,” you whispered under your breath, like you could correct reality with enough force. “No, no, no.” 

Because there was no “between you.” 

There couldn’t be. 

That was the problem. 

Your entire life was built on control. Precision. Predictability. Every variable accounted for, every outcome planned three steps ahead so nothing—nothing—could ever spiral out of your hands the way things used to. 

And Bucky Barnes was not a variable you could afford to miscalculate. 

Especially not after last night. 

Especially not after— 

Your thoughts snagged hard on the memory of the ballroom. His voice. The way he looked at you on the balcony like he could see through every layer you had ever built. The way your chest had tightened when he said you didn’t have to do everything alone. 

You stopped walking. 

The corridor blurred slightly at the edges of your vision. 

No. Absolutely not. 

You pressed a hand against the wall to steady yourself, breathing in sharply through your nose like you could force the world back into focus through sheer will. 

It didn’t work. 

Because now your brain had decided to replay everything at once. 

The champagne glass shaking in your hand. 

Valentina’s voice. 

Bucky’s expression when you said that line. 

You’re really good at making people regret caring about you. 

Your stomach lurched. 

“Stop it,” you hissed at yourself. “Stop thinking.” 

But your brain didn’t listen. 

It never did when you were like this—when the mask slipped too fast and there was nothing left to hold the structure in place. 

The hallway felt too narrow suddenly. 

Too quiet. 

Too— 

Your breath caught. 

No. 

No, you were not doing this here. 

You forced your legs to move again, faster now, nearly stumbling as you turned a corner and headed toward the stairwell instead of the elevator. You couldn’t stand the idea of being in a confined metal box right now. Couldn’t stand the idea of anything enclosed. 

Your pulse was too loud. 

Your skin felt too tight. 

The stairwell door slammed open harder than intended, echoing through the concrete space as you rushed inside. 

And that was when it hit you properly. 

The crash. 

Not gradual. Not subtle. 

Immediate, like a dam breaking. 

Your hand tightened on the railing as you descended one flight, then another, but it didn’t matter how far you went—the pressure followed you. It always did. 

You reached the landing between floors and stopped abruptly, breathing hard. 

Your fingers were shaking. 

“No,” you said again, weaker this time. “No, I didn’t— I didn’t mess it up.” 

But even as you said it, your mind supplied everything you had been trying not to think about. 

The reporter’s question. 

The leak. 

Internal instability. 

Valentina’s eyes. 

Someone inside the ballroom… 

Your throat tightened. 

It’s your fault. 

The thought didn’t arrive gently. It slammed into you with the force of a semi-truck. 

You had been distracted. Emotional. Not composed enough. Not careful enough. Not enough, as always. 

You were supposed to be the one holding everything together. 

That was your role. That was what made you valuable. 

And if you failed at that— 

Your breathing hitched sharply and your vision blurred. 

“No, no, no, no—” 

Your hand slipped from the railing. 

The world tilted. 

And suddenly you weren’t in a stairwell anymore. 

You were back at Valentina’s table. 

Back at that earlier version of yourself sitting perfectly still while someone yelled at you for not being perfect enough. 

The inner voice came roaring back, louder now, crueler. 

You messed up again. 

You always mess up eventually. 

They’re going to replace you. 

He already thinks you’re weak. 

That last thought landed like a blade. 

Your chest tightened so violently it hurt to inhale. 

You slid down the wall before you realized you were moving, knees hitting the ground hard enough to sting. 

Your hands pressed against your chest. 

You tried to breathe. 

You really did. 

But your lungs weren’t cooperating anymore. 

Everything collapsed inward. 

The ballroom. The cameras. Bucky’s voice. Valentina’s smile. The possibility—no, the certainty—that everything you had built was about to fracture because you had lost control for one night. 

A sound slipped out of you before you could stop it. 

Small. Broken. 

Then again. 

And then you were crying. 

Not neatly. Not quietly. 

It came all at once, like something inside you had finally given up pretending it was fine. 

You curled forward, forehead nearly touching your knees, trying to make yourself smaller like that would somehow stop it from happening. 

You didn’t hear the door at first. 

You didn’t hear footsteps. 

Not until a voice cut through the stairwell. 

“Hey.” 

You flinched so hard it hurt. 

Bucky stood a few steps above you, frozen in place like he hadn’t expected to find you like this. 

Like this. 

Your first instinct was immediate. 

Shame. 

You turned your face away fast, wiping at your cheeks angrily. “Don’t— don’t look at me.” 

Bucky didn’t move. 

“I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped. His voice lowered. “I didn’t know you were here.” 

“Clearly,” you snapped, though it came out fractured. 

You tried to stand. 

Your legs didn’t cooperate properly. 

That made it worse. 

“Go away,” you said, harsher now. “Just— just leave.” 

Bucky hesitated. 

He took one step down. 

Then another. 

“I’m not leaving you like this.” 

“You don’t get to decide that,” you shot back immediately, wiping your face again, furious at yourself for still crying. “I said go.” 

Silence. 

Then, quieter: 

“You’re shaking.” 

“I’m fine.” 

The lie was automatic. Useless. 

Bucky sighed, something heavy in it. “No, you’re not.” 

That made something inside you snap harder. 

“You don’t get to do that,” you said sharply, finally looking up at him through wet lashes. “You don’t get to stand there and observe me like I’m some problem you can fix.” 

Bucky flinched at that. 

For a second, just a second, he looked like you’d hit him. 

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said quietly. 

“Then what are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

That honesty made you feel worse. 

You pushed yourself up again, more successfully this time, though your hands were still trembling. “Well figure it out somewhere else.” 

Bucky’s jaw tightened. 

“Did something happen upstairs?” 

Your laugh broke halfway through. “Are you kidding me? Everything happened upstairs.” 

“You mean the briefing?” 

“You mean Valentina accusing us of leaking classified intel in front of everyone?” you snapped. “Yeah. That.” 

Bucky went still. 

Something shifted in his expression—something sharp, guarded. 

“Right,” he said. 

That tone. 

That tone made your anger spike again. 

“Oh, don’t do that,” you said immediately. “Don’t go all quiet and guilty like you had nothing to do with it.” 

His eyes snapped to yours. 

“What?” 

“You heard me,” you said, voice rising. “Because clearly someone did leak something. And clearly it was someone in that room. So don’t act shocked like you’re above suspicion.” 

Silence. Heavy. 

Then Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose. 

“I see.” 

That calmness was infuriating. 

You stepped closer without thinking. “Do you?” 

His gaze sharpened. 

“You think I did it.” 

“I think I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore,” you shot back. 

That landed. 

Hard. 

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was lower. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Fair enough.” 

Something about that tone—resigned, almost—made your stomach twist in an entirely different way. 

But you were too far gone to stop yourself. 

“I have been cleaning up after disasters all night,” you said, voice shaking again. “Managing press, managing Valentina, managing you—” 

“That’s not what I asked you to do.” 

“I didn’t ask to do it, Barnes! It’s my job!” 

The words echoed sharply in the stairwell. 

Then silence fell again. 

And in that silence, your breath finally broke. 

You looked away quickly, swallowing hard. 

“I can’t afford mistakes,” you said, quieter now. “I can’t— I can’t afford to be the weak link.” 

Bucky’s expression changed immediately. 

Something softer. 

Something worse. 

“You’re not—” 

“Don’t,” you cut him off immediately, voice cracking again. “Don’t start with that.” 

He stopped. 

You pressed your hand against your forehead, trying to steady yourself. 

“I can fix it,” you whispered, more to yourself now. “I always fix it. I just— I just need to—” 

Your voice broke again. 

Bucky stepped closer slowly. 

This time you didn’t move away fast enough. 

He stopped a careful distance away. 

“I didn’t leak anything,” he said quietly. 

You froze. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. 

Bucky’s jaw flexed. 

“But I think I know who did.” 

Your head snapped up. 

“What?” 

He hesitated. 

For the first time, he looked genuinely uncomfortable. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally. 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Bucky—” 

“It doesn’t matter because it’s already done,” he said, voice tighter now. “And because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” 

A beat. 

Then— 

“I should’ve noticed sooner.” 

Something in his tone made your anger falter. 

“What are you talking about?” 

His eyes didn’t meet yours immediately. 

“I should’ve stopped it.” 

The implication landed slowly. 

Too slowly. 

And when it did, your breath caught. 

“…you?” 

Bucky didn’t answer right away. 

That was answer enough. 

Your entire expression shifted. 

“No,” you said immediately. “No, don’t— don’t do that. Don’t try to take responsibility just because I’m—” 

“I’m not trying to take responsibility,” he said sharply, finally meeting your eyes. “I did it.” 

Silence. 

Your brain stalled. 

“What?” 

“I was on the perimeter last night,” he said, voice controlled but strained now. “There was access I shouldn’t have had. I didn’t realize what I was carrying until after.” 

You stared at him. 

“Bucky…” 

“I didn’t mean for it to get out,” he said quickly. “But it did.” 

The stairwell felt too small again. Too tight. 

Everything you had been spiraling about suddenly collapsed into a different shape entirely. 

Not you. 

Not your failure. 

Not your collapse. 

Him. 

Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. 

“That’s why I didn’t say anything upstairs,” he muttered. “Because I didn’t want—” He stopped himself. Jaw clenched. “I didn’t want it to be worse.” 

You just stood there. 

Breathing unevenly. 

All the anger drained out of you so fast it left you dizzy. 

Then something else came up in its place. 

Something worse. 

“I thought it was me,” you said quietly. 

Bucky looked at you sharply. 

You swallowed. 

“I thought I messed everything up.” 

He went still. 

And something in his expression cracked slightly. 

“I didn’t know you were going to—” he started, then stopped. 

Your voice dropped. 

“I broke down because I thought I failed.” 

Silence again. 

Thicker now. 

Bucky looked like he didn’t know where to put his hands. 

Or his guilt. 

Or himself. 

“I didn’t mean for you to—” he said again, quieter. 

You laughed once, hollow. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I know.” 

Footsteps echoed suddenly from above. 

Both of you froze. 

Yelena appeared on the landing, leaning over the railing with immediate suspicion. 

“What is happening?” she asked. 

You wiped your face quickly, turning away. 

“Nothing.” 

Yelena stared at you. 

Then at Bucky. 

Then back at you. 

“…this is ‘something,’” she concluded. 

Bucky exhaled sharply. “We’re fine.” 

Yelena narrowed her eyes. 

“No,” she said. “You are both terrible at lying.” 

She stepped down fully now, taking in the scene properly. Your posture. Bucky’s expression. The tension still hanging in the air like smoke. 

Then she sighed dramatically. 

“Go,” she said to Bucky. 

He blinked. “What?” 

“Go,” she repeated. “Before you make it worse.” 

Bucky hesitated. 

His eyes flicked to you. 

You didn’t look at him. 

That seemed to decide it. 

“…I’ll check in later,” he said quietly. 

You didn’t respond. 

He left. 

The stairwell door clicked shut. 

Yelena waited exactly three seconds. 

Then she looked at you. 

“You are crying in stairwell because of metal man,” she said. 

“I’m not crying anymore.” 

“You were.” 

“…yes.” 

She nodded like this was data being confirmed. 

“Okay,” she said. “We fix.” 

“We are not fixing anything.” 

“Yes,” she said firmly. “We are fixing.” 

The next morning was quieter in a way that felt wrong. 

Not peaceful. Just absent. 

You didn’t go to the gym. You didn’t respond to emails immediately. You didn’t even turn on your usual playlist. 

You just sat at your desk staring at nothing, replaying everything with brutal clarity. 

Bucky’s voice. 

His confession. 

The realization that you had broken down over something that wasn’t your fault—but still felt like it had been. 

A knock came at your door. 

You ignored it but it opened anyway. 

You didn’t look up. 

“Hey,” Bucky said carefully. 

Nothing. 

He stepped in slowly. 

“I just—” he started, then stopped again. “I needed to say I’m sorry.” 

Silence. 

You kept your eyes on the desk. 

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. 

“I should’ve handled it differently,” he said. “And I shouldn’t have let you think it was—” 

Still nothing. 

He tried again, softer. 

“You didn’t mess anything up.” 

That finally got a reaction. 

But not the one he wanted. 

You stood abruptly. 

“I have work,” you said flatly. 

Bucky went still. 

“Okay,” he said carefully. “But—” 

You walked past him without looking at him. 

Not even a glance. Just silence. 

Like he wasn’t there at all. 

And that—more than anything—made him stop talking completely. 

Because he understood, suddenly, exactly what you were doing. 

Distance. Control. Survival. 

And he stood there watching you leave the room like he had no idea how to fix what he’d broken. 

Only this time— 

He knew it was his fault. 

--------------------------------- 

Bucky didn’t go straight back to the tower after he left the briefing room. 

He couldn’t. 

The words he’d said—what he’d admitted, what he hadn’t fully said out loud but had still laid at Valentina Allegra de Fontaine’s feet like an armed grenade—were still vibrating under his skin. He’d expected her to be amused, or annoyed, or calculating in that way she always was. 

Instead, she had just looked at him for a long moment, like she was deciding whether to cash in a debt or burn him with it. 

“You’re developing a conscience,” she’d said at last, almost pleasantly. “How inconvenient.” 

“I did what you wanted,” Bucky replied flatly. 

“I wanted results,” Valentina corrected. “Not guilt.” 

That had been the end of it. A dismissal wrapped in silk. 

He left before she could decide to make it worse. 

Yelena Belova was harder to find than she should’ve been, which meant she didn’t want to be found. That was fine. Bucky knew how to look for people who didn’t want to be seen. 

He found her on the roof. 

She didn’t turn when he stepped out into the wind. 

“You look like someone who stepped on a landmine and is still surprised it exploded,” she said. 

“Close enough,” Bucky replied. 

That made her glance over her shoulder at him. 

“Talk.” 

He hesitated. That was the worst part—hesitating like it mattered, like he didn’t already know what he was going to say. 

“I did something,” he said. “Something I shouldn’t have.” 

Yelena turned fully now, leaning back against the ledge. 

“That narrows it down to, like, everything you’ve ever done.” 

A humorless breath left him. “It wasn’t just in the past.” 

Her expression sharpened slightly. 

“…Ah.” 

Silence stretched. 

He didn’t fill it quickly enough, and that was answer enough. 

“You feel guilty,” she said. 

“Yes.” 

“Because of her,” Yelena added, and she didn’t need to say a name. 

Bucky didn’t deny it. 

That alone made something shift in her expression—not softness, not exactly, but recognition. 

“You like her,” she said, like she was testing the weight of the words. 

He should’ve denied it immediately. He knew that. He knew it the way he knew how to clear a room, how to break a neck, how to disappear. 

Instead, he said nothing. 

Yelena scoffed. “You’re terrible at this.” 

“I’m not—” He stopped himself. Because lying felt worse than silence. 

Yelena pushed off the ledge and walked closer, studying him like he was a problem she hadn’t been assigned but had decided to solve anyway. 

“If you hurt her,” she said quietly, “I will personally make your life extremely unpleasant.” 

“I know.” 

“That wasn’t a threat,” she added. “That was a promise.” 

A beat. 

Then, softer—almost annoyingly casual, like she hated the moment she was about to create: 

“…Do you want to fix it?” 

Bucky nodded once. 

“Then go,” she said. “Before you talk yourself out of it.” 

The common room was nearly dark when he found you. 

Only the dim city glow came through the windows, cutting pale lines across the furniture. The tower was quiet in that late-night way that always felt like it was holding its breath. 

You were on the couch. 

Curled slightly sideways, like you'd been reading and forgotten to stop. A book lay open on your chest, forgotten. One socked foot tucked under your knee. 

For a moment, Bucky just stood in the doorway. 

He’d faced down armies. 

This felt worse. 

“You’re staring,” you said without opening your eyes. 

Of course you were awake. 

He stepped in slowly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t,” you replied. “I was already awake.” 

That made something in his chest tighten. He stopped a few feet away. Close enough to leave. Close enough to stay. 

“I need to talk to you,” he said. 

That finally made you open your eyes. 

And there it was—that look you always had when you were trying to decide whether he was dangerous or just complicated. 

“Go ahead,” you said. 

Bucky swallowed once. 

“I owe you an apology.” 

A quiet beat. 

Then you sat up a little straighter, book sliding off your chest onto the cushion. 

“That’s new,” you said. 

“It shouldn’t be,” he replied. 

Your eyes didn’t leave him. “Why now?” 

Because I can’t stop thinking about you. 

Because I can’t tell if I ruined something I didn’t realize I cared about until it broke. 

Because I don’t trust myself around you anymore. 

Instead, he said, “Because you deserved better than what I did.” 

That landed differently. 

Your expression shifted—just slightly, but enough. 

“You don’t know what I deserve,” you said carefully. 

“I know what I gave you,” Bucky answered. “And it wasn’t fair.” 

Silence again. 

This one heavier. 

You looked away first, toward the window. “You always talk like that when you’re about to leave.” 

“I’m not leaving,” he said immediately. 

That made you glance back at him again, sharper this time. 

“Then what are you doing?” 

Bucky hesitated. Then stepped closer, just enough that he was within reach but not touching. 

“I need you to know I didn’t mean to put you in the middle of anything,” he said. “I didn’t mean for you to take the hit for what I—” 

His voice caught slightly on the words. 

You watched him carefully now. 

And then, quietly, you said, “That’s not new.” 

That stopped him. 

“What?” 

Your gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again. 

“I’ve had that happen before,” you said. “Someone does something, and I’m the one left standing in the wrong place.” 

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s not the same.” 

“It is,” you said, more firmly than before. “Just… different version.” 

A pause. 

Then, almost like you were testing him: 

“You didn’t do it on purpose. That doesn’t always matter to people.” 

The air between you shifted. 

Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Did they make you believe it was your fault?” 

A flicker in your expression. 

Not confirmation. Not denial either. Just memory. He felt something in him go still. 

“I would never do that to you,” he said. 

Simple. 

Certain. 

Like a vow he didn’t know he was making until it was already spoken. You studied him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, your eyes softened just a fraction. 

“You say that like it means something permanent,” you said. 

“It does,” Bucky replied. 

Something in your expression cracked—not breaking, not quite. More like pressure finally finding a release point. 

Your breath hitched. 

And then you laughed once, small and shaky, like it surprised you as much as him. 

“God,” you said, but it wasn’t directed at him. 

Then your eyes filled. 

Bucky froze. “Hey—wait—did I—” 

But you were already shaking your head quickly, like you were trying to stop yourself from doing exactly what you were doing. 

“No,” you said, voice thinner now. “No, it’s not—you didn’t—” 

Your hands came up briefly to your face, but it didn’t stop anything. 

Tears slipped through anyway. And you looked almost annoyed by them. 

“Thank you,” you said suddenly. 

Bucky blinked. “What?” 

“Thank you,” you repeated, more firmly this time, though your voice wobbled around the edges. “For saying that.” 

“I didn’t—” He stopped, because he didn’t know what he was trying to correct. 

You were crying harder now, but there was something else there too. A small, uneven smile pulling at the corner of your mouth like it didn’t know whether it was allowed. 

Bucky panicked immediately. 

“I did something wrong,” he said, stepping forward. “I shouldn’t have brought it up like this, I—” 

“No,” you cut in quickly, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “No, it’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” he asked, voice tight. 

You looked at him for a second like you didn’t have language for it. 

Then you shook your head again. 

“I just—” you exhaled sharply, like you were annoyed at yourself. “I didn’t expect someone to say that and mean it.” 

That landed harder than anything else so far. Bucky didn’t speak. He just lowered himself onto the couch beside her, slow, careful. 

Not touching yet. 

Waiting. 

She didn’t move away. A moment passed. Then another. 

Your breathing was uneven, but steadier now. The tears kept coming, quieter this time. 

Bucky shifted slightly, then, carefully, like he was asking permission without words, he delicately laid his flesh hand on yours. It was warm and grounding. 

You hesitated for only a second. 

Then leaned into him. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you like something fragile that had decided, against all odds, to stay. 

Your face pressed into his chest. He felt you inhale shakily. 

Exhale. 

Again. 

He didn’t say anything. Just held you. Bucky’s scent – a mix of cedar and something distinctly him – enveloped you like a blanket.  

Time blurred in a way it only did when neither of you were trying to escape it. 

At some point, your grip on his shirt loosened slightly and your breathing evened out. 

The crying slowed. Eventually stopped. 

But you didn’t pull away. 

Bucky didn’t either. 

When you finally shifted, it was slow. 

Careful. 

You tilted her head back just enough to look up at him. Your faces were close. Too close to pretend it meant nothing. 

Bucky felt it before he understood it. 

The shift. The recognition. 

Something mutual, and suddenly undeniable. His hand was still on your back. Your fingers were still curled lightly in his shirt. Neither of you moved. 

Then you leaned in first. 

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t uncertain. 

It was soft in a way that made Bucky’s chest ache. 

He kissed you back immediately. Like he’d been waiting longer than he wanted to admit. 

When you parted, it wasn’t far. Just enough to breathe. You stared at each other. 

Neither of you smiling yet. 

Like you were both waiting to see if reality would correct itself. 

Bucky spoke first. 

“I need to say something,” he murmured. 

Your eyes flicked over his face. “Okay.” 

“I think I’ve been trying not to feel something I already feel,” he admitted. 

Your expression didn’t change much—but your breathing did. 

Bucky continued, quieter now. 

“I care about you. More than I should.” 

A beat. 

Then honesty, fully out now: 

"I think I always have. I know I annoy you and, to be completely honest, you annoy me too, sometimes. I keep arguments going but never because I want to keep fighting. Because I want to have an excuse to keep looking at you. Because you’re the most amazing human being I’ve ever met. I’m in awe by you, just like everyone else. But, I don’t just want to be there with you at your best. I also want to be there when you fall apart so I can catch you. I’ll hold you forever and ever until you realize you don’t have to perform with me.” 

Silence. 

Your gaze dropped for half a second, then lifted again. 

When you spoke, your voice was softer—but steadier than before. 

“That’s not a good idea.” 

Bucky frowned slightly. “Why?” 

You let out a humourless, breathy laugh. Maybe it was more of a scoff. 

“Because I’m…” you gestured vaguely, like you couldn’t pick a single word that fit. “Too much. For people. For relationships. For… anything stable.” 

Bucky shook his head immediately. 

“No,” he said. 

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m constantly lying to everyone. My entire personality towards the public is an act. That doesn’t bother you? I’m...fake.” 

"No. You’re not. You’re a human. A human being paraded around like she doesn’t have value outside of promotional performances. But you do. You are incredible. You’ve just had to hide your exhaustion so much that it’s made you defensive and it’s left you thinking that, somehow, you’re not enough. But that’s not your fault.” he replied. 

That made you pause. 

Bucky stepped closer again, just enough that his forehead almost brushed yours. 

"You’re not perfect. But you’re still amazing.” he said quietly. “It kills me that you don’t see that.” 

Your breath caught slightly. 

“I’ve done things,” you said, like it was a warning. 

“So have I.” 

“I don’t make things easy.” 

“I don’t want easy,” he said. 

That silenced you completely. 

For a moment, you just looked at him. 

Like you were trying to find the point where this stopped being real. 

Then you whispered, almost frustrated: 

“You’re impossible.” 

Bucky’s mouth twitched slightly. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve heard.” 

Then he kissed you again. 

This time slower. 

Longer. 

When he pulled back, his hand stayed at your cheek. 

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” he said quietly. 

Your eyes softened again, just slightly. 

“I wasn’t doing it alone,” you said. 

A pause. 

Then, smaller: 

“…Not completely.” 

Bucky nodded once, like that was enough for now. 

It was. 

Eventually, you both settled back into the couch. Somehow still close. 

Still tangled in each other in a way neither of you seemed inclined to fix. 

At some point, exhaustion caught up with you both. 

And you fell asleep like that. 

You were found like that. 

Naturally. 

---------------- 

The next morning—or maybe later that same night, depending on how time worked in the tower—the rest of the Thunderbolts filtered into the common room one by one. 

Conversation died the moment they saw the couch. 

“Are they—” Bob started. 

“Don’t,” Alexei muttered immediately. 

Bucky was half on his side, one arm still around you. 

You were tucked against him like you belonged there. 

John made a low whistle. 

“Didn’t think the Winter Soldier did domestic bliss,” he said under his breath. 

“Shut up,” Ava hissed, but not particularly seriously. 

Then Yelena Belova walked in. 

She stopped. 

Looked. 

Took in the situation with one long, unreadable stare. 

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. 

Small. Rare. Real. 

“I’m happy for them,” she said simply. 

That shut everyone else up faster than a threat ever could. 

A couple of the others cleared their throats. 

“Yeah, uh—same,” Walker muttered. 

“Cool, cool,” Bob said, already backing toward the hallway. 

One by one, they drifted out, muttering, teasing energy dissolving into awkward respect. 

The room emptied. Quiet returned. 

Except they weren’t asleep. 

Not anymore. 

Bucky’s eyes opened first. 

Then yours. 

Neither of you moved. 

For a moment, you just stayed like that—caught, pretending you hadn’t heard any of it. 

Then your mouth twitched. 

“…Did they just witness our entire emotional downfall?” you whispered. 

Bucky exhaled softly. “Yeah.” 

A pause. 

Then you laughed. 

Quiet. 

Genuine. 

It filled the space in a way that made something in his chest loosen. 

“We are a disaster,” you said. 

Bucky hummed. “Yeah.” 

“On fire,” you added. 

“Constantly.” 

You shifted slightly, looking up at him again. 

“And they’re going to never let us forget this.” 

“Definitely not,” he agreed. 

You sighed dramatically. “We’re doomed.” 

Bucky watched you for a second. You started going on about how each of your teammates would torture you for this latest development. You were relaxed. The best part? You were smiling. Really. Not performative, not polished, not painfully perfected. Just...you. 

Bucky leaned in and kissed you mid-sentence. Cutting you off completely. 

When he pulled back, you blinked at him. 

“…I was still talking,” you said. 

“I know,” he replied. 

Your expression softened again despite yourself. 

“Insufferable,” you murmured. 

Bucky’s hand slid lightly along your side. 

“Yeah,” he said. “But you’re smiling.” 

And you were. 

So he kissed you again. 

A/N: hope you guys liked this it took a while lol ❤️

If you guys want some little spin-off one shots from this just send me a message with your request

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Drop The Act Part 2

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky x Reader, Enemies to Lovers

Part 1, Part 3

Summary: Bucky was constantly on your nerves. And you were on his. You were too perfect. Your smile was too polished, your voice too delicate, your words too calculated. The public loved you, and you Valentina's only way to keep the Thunderbolts out of hot water with Congress. But, what happens when you drop the act? What happens when you stop hiding your tears behind a candy cane smile?

Warnings: panic attacks, kiss, alcohol consumption (but no one's drunk)

WC: 3k

An hour later, your feet were killing you. You had spoken to senators, diplomats, CEOs, military officials, journalists, and three different socialites whose names immediately evaporated from your memory. 

You were beginning to feel like a decorative object instead of a person.  

Smile. Laugh. Tilt your head. Touch someone’s arm. Compliment their tie. Pretend their joke was funny. Repeat. 

You needed a break. Badly. You slipped out one of the side doors leading to an outdoor balcony overlooking the city. 

The cool night air hit your skin instantly. You closed your eyes. Breathed. 

Again. Again. 

The distant sounds of traffic below were infinitely better than the overwhelming noise inside. You leaned against the railing. Your chest hurt. Not physically. Just that familiar tightness. Like your ribs were shrinking around your lungs. You squeezed your eyes shut. 

Not now. Please not now. 

You heard the balcony door open behind you. 

Your spine straightened instantly. Mask back on. You turned. 

Bucky froze upon seeing you. For a moment neither of you spoke. 

“I can leave,” he said finally. 

You almost told him yes. Instead you sighed softly. 

“No. It’s fine.” 

Bucky stepped onto the balcony carefully, like approaching a startled animal. The city lights reflected faintly against his metal arm. You looked away before your brain could start being weird about how attractive he looked. 

Silence settled between you. Not comfortable. But not entirely hostile either. Which somehow felt stranger. 

“You hate these things too, huh?” you asked eventually. 

Bucky snorted. 

“That obvious?” 

“You look one bad conversation away from committing arson.” 

His mouth twitched. Actually twitched. You stared before you could stop yourself. 

Oh. 

That was dangerous. Bucky noticed. His expression shifted almost immediately back into guarded neutrality. You cleared your throat. 

“I thought you’d be inside avoiding eye contact with rich people.” 

“I was.” 

“So why’d you come out here?” 

Bucky hesitated. That alone caught your attention. Then he shrugged. 

“Needed air.” 

You hummed quietly. You both knew that wasn’t the full answer. But neither of you pushed. 

The wind brushed against your bare shoulders. You resisted the urge to rub your arms. 

Your anxiety was climbing steadily now. Too much stimulation. Too many people. Too much pressure. 

Your thoughts were beginning to race.  

You should go back inside.  You couldn’t go back inside. You needed to go back inside. Your breathing became slightly uneven. Bucky noticed instantly. 

“You okay?” 

The question startled you. Because it sounded genuine. Not mocking. Not irritated. Concerned. 

You hated that. 

“I’m fine.” 

Lie. 

Bucky leaned against the railing beside you. 

“You’re squeezing that champagne glass hard enough to break it.” 

You looked down. Your fingers were trembling around the stem. 

Damn it. You loosened your grip immediately. 

“I said I’m fine.” 

“And I said you’re not.” 

Your head snapped toward him. 

“What exactly is your goal right now?” you asked sharply. “Because if you’re trying to start another argument—” 

“I’m not.” 

The sincerity in his voice stopped you cold. Bucky looked uncomfortable. Not angry. 

Uncomfortable. Like he didn’t know how to continue this conversation. That was new. 

“You’ve barely stopped moving all night,” he said quietly. “And your breathing’s weird.” 

You stared at him. Nobody noticed things like that. 

Nobody.  

You looked away quickly. 

“I’m just tired.” 

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. The city lights painted silver across his profile. 

“You don’t have to do this alone all the time, you know.” 

The words hit you like a slap. Your defenses shot up instantly. 

“You think I can’t handle myself?” 

Bucky blinked. 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“It’s what you implied.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

You laughed bitterly. 

“There it is.” 

“There what is?” 

“That look.” 

Bucky frowned. 

“What look?” 

“Like I’m some fragile little thing seconds away from breaking.” 

“That’s not—” 

“You think because I get stressed sometimes I suddenly can’t lead this team?” 

Bucky’s expression hardened. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

“Then what exactly are you saying?” 

“I’m saying you don’t have to act perfect every second of your life.” 

The sentence sliced straight through you. Your chest tightened painfully. You laughed again, quieter this time. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Then explain it to me.” 

Your eyes snapped to his. And there it was again. 

Concern. Real concern. 

Something in you panicked. Because anger, you understood. Arguments, you understood. 

This? This was dangerous. 

“You know what your problem is, Barnes?” 

Bucky’s jaw tightened. 

“What?” 

“You think because you can brood dramatically in corners and glare at people, it somehow makes you more honest than the rest of us.” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“You think everything I do is fake.” 

“I think you hide behind performance.” 

“At least I perform correctly.” 

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them. 

Bucky’s expression went flat. Cold. 

“You know,” he said quietly, “you’re really good at making people regret caring about you.” 

Your breath caught. 

Silence. Heavy. Awful. Bucky looked like he regretted saying it immediately. 

You looked away first. Because suddenly your eyes burned. 

God. 

You hated this. You hated him. You hated how he saw too much.  

The balcony doors opened abruptly. 

“Ah!” Alexei boomed. “There you both are!” 

You stepped back immediately. 

Mask on. Smile up. Perfect. 

Alexei looked between the two of you suspiciously. 

“Why do you both look like divorced parents at school recital?” 

“Goodnight, Alexei,” you said flatly. 

Bucky actually laughed. A real laugh. Low and rough and warm. 

Your stomach did something profoundly irritating. Alexei pointed between the two of you. 

“You see? This is chemistry.” 

“There is absolutely no chemistry,” you and Bucky said simultaneously. 

Alexei gasped dramatically. 

“Ah! Same sentence at same time. Even more chemistry.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Bucky muttered something under his breath in Russian that Alexei seemed delighted by. 

“Valentina is looking for both of you,” Alexei announced. “Apparently some governor wants photos.” 

You inhaled slowly. Back to work. You straightened your posture automatically.  

Bucky watched the transformation happen in real time. 

The tension vanished from your face. Your smile returned: elegant and controlled. Like the conversation on the balcony had never happened.  

-------------------- 

The ballroom swallowed you whole the second you stepped back inside. 

Music drifted through the massive space alongside the constant hum of conversation and clinking champagne glasses. Everywhere you looked there were politicians smiling too widely, donors pretending to care about humanitarian causes, and cameras flashing like tiny explosions. 

Your smile settled back into place automatically. Bucky hated how immediate the change was. 

One second you had been sharp-edged and breathing unevenly on the balcony. The next, you were gliding across the marble floor like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t looked seconds away from either yelling at him or crying. 

Maybe both. 

“Governor Mitchell is near the stage,” you told Alexei smoothly. “Valentina wants the photos done before dessert service starts.” 

Alexei sighed dramatically. “Ah, yes. More smiling. This is true burden of heroism.” 

“You’ve had six appetizers and three glasses of champagne,” you deadpanned. “You’re surviving.” 

“I suffer bravely.” 

Bucky stayed quiet beside you while the three of you moved through the crowd. 

His mind kept replaying the balcony conversation on an endless loop. 

You’re really good at making people regret caring about you. 

Jesus Christ. He hadn’t meant to say that. Well—part of him had. But not like that. Not with the way your face had fallen afterward. The worst part was that he wasn’t even sure it was true. 

Because the more Bucky thought about it, the more he realized you didn’t push people away because you enjoyed it. You did it because you expected them to leave eventually anyway. That realization sat heavily in his chest.  

You stopped suddenly beside one of the photographers near the stage. 

“Governor Mitchell should be arriving in a minute,” you said politely. “Do you need the whole team together?” 

The photographer brightened instantly at the sight of you. “Yes, please. Miss Valentina wanted group shots and individual pairs.” 

“Perfect.” Your smile never faltered. “We’ll make this easy for you.” 

Of course you would. You somehow managed to make being micromanaged sound graceful. Bucky crossed his arms while you organized people with practiced ease. 

“John, stop glaring.” 

“I’m not glaring.” 

“You look like you’re being held hostage.” 

“I am being held hostage.” 

“Yelena, please don’t threaten the press.” 

“I only threatened one.” 

“You threatened three.” 

“Details.” 

You turned toward Bucky last. Your eyes met his briefly before sliding away. 

“Barnes.” 

“What?” 

“Try to look approachable.” 

“I am approachable.” 

You stared at him. 

“Right now you look like you bite.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“That’s exactly the issue.” 

Alexei barked out a laugh loud enough to turn heads. The photographer looked deeply stressed. 

“Can we maybe get everyone closer together?” he asked nervously. 

Yelena immediately shoved John sideways. “Move, dollar store Captain America.” 

John muttered something under his breath while stumbling closer. 

You stepped into the center automatically. Of course you did. The cameras loved you there. You were the polished centerpiece tying the entire dysfunctional group together. 

Bucky took his place beside you reluctantly. 

Too close. 

He became aware of ridiculous things instantly. 

The soft scent of your perfume. The bare skin of your shoulder inches from his arm. The faint shimmer of silver against your collarbone. 

Annoying. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” the photographer called. “Could you maybe put a hand on her shoulder?” 

Bucky nearly choked. 

Your posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. 

“No,” both of you said immediately. 

The photographer blinked. “Oh.” 

Alexei wheezed with laughter. 

“Maybe just stand normally,” you said tightly. 

“Right. Yes. Great idea.” 

The photographer snapped several pictures while the group attempted varying levels of cooperation. 

Yelena looked bored. John looked irritated. Alexei kept trying to flex. 

And Bucky— 

Bucky became painfully aware that your arm brushed his twice during the photos. Entirely accidental. Entirely harmless. 

His pulse still jumped both times. 

Idiot. 

Then Governor Mitchell arrived. The older man greeted you immediately with obvious enthusiasm. 

“There she is,” he said warmly. “The woman keeping this entire operation functional.” 

You laughed softly. “That’s generous.” 

“It’s true.” He shook your hand. “Your relief initiative in Latvia has been extraordinary.” 

Bucky watched your expression shift into that polished warmth again. 

Gracious. Charming. Controlled. 

You thanked the governor modestly while effortlessly steering the conversation toward funding allocations and reconstruction efforts. 

And somehow everyone around you listened. Really listened. 

Bucky understood why. 

You had this terrifying ability to make people feel important. Seen. Like every word they said mattered. 

It was strategic. But it was also genuine somehow.  

That contradiction drove him insane. 

“Now, photo!” Governor Mitchell announced. 

The photographer repositioned everyone quickly. This time the governor insisted you stand beside him while the rest of the team filled in around you. 

Unfortunately for Bucky, that still placed him directly at your side. 

Again. 

The governor smiled brightly toward the cameras. “Perhaps Sergeant Barnes can smile this time?” 

Bucky deadpanned. “This is my smile.” 

The governor laughed. 

You pressed your lips together hard like you were trying not to. 

Bucky caught it. 

That tiny almost-smile. 

And suddenly he wanted to see a real one. 

Not the perfect media-trained version. 

A real one. 

Dangerous thought. 

The cameras flashed rapidly. 

One photographer called for another pose, and before Bucky could react, the governor rested a hand lightly against your back to angle you toward the cameras. 

Bucky’s jaw tightened instantly. 

You didn’t seem bothered. You were probably used to it. 

But something ugly and possessive still twisted low in his stomach. 

Absolutely ridiculous. You weren’t his anything. Hell, half the time you barely tolerated him. 

The photos finally ended after another painful ten minutes. 

The governor wandered off toward a cluster of donors, and the rest of the team dispersed almost immediately. 

You exhaled quietly the second the cameras stopped flashing. 

Your smile vanished for half a second before returning when another senator approached. 

Bucky noticed. Of course he noticed. 

“You should sit down,” he said suddenly. 

The words surprised both of you. 

You looked at him strangely. “Excuse me?” 

“You’ve been wearing those heels for hours.” 

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Were you staring at my shoes, Barnes?” 

“No.” 

“You just happened to develop concern for podiatry?” 

Bucky scowled. “Forget I said anything.” 

But you looked at him differently for a moment after that. Softer. Confused. 

Then someone called your name again. 

And the moment disappeared. 

— 

By the time midnight rolled around, you were running entirely on muscle memory and spite. 

Your social battery had died approximately two hours ago. 

You had smiled so much your face physically hurt. 

Your champagne glass had long since been replaced with water because you knew combining exhaustion, anxiety, and alcohol would end catastrophically. 

You were currently nodding through a conversation with a defense contractor whose cologne was strong enough to violate several international laws. 

Across the room, Bucky looked equally done with existence. 

He sat in one of the lounge chairs near the wall while Yelena aggressively stole olives from his plate. 

His tie had loosened slightly. 

His hair was messier now. 

And somehow he looked even more unfairly attractive than before. 

You looked away immediately. 

No. 

Absolutely not. 

Your brain was not doing this tonight. 

The contractor finally wandered away after promising to “schedule lunch soon.” 

You immediately wanted to fake your own death. 

“Rough?” Yelena asked suddenly, appearing beside you like a tiny terrifying phantom. 

You accepted the fresh glass of water she handed you gratefully. “I’m going to throw myself into the Hudson.” 

“Reasonable.” 

You drank half the water in one go. 

Yelena studied you for a second. 

“You and metal man had argument.” 

You nearly inhaled the water wrong. “What?” 

“I have ears.” She shrugged. “Also Alexei said your tension could power small city.” 

“Alexei says a lot of things.” 

“Yes. Unfortunately.” 

You glanced toward Bucky despite yourself. 

He was already looking at you. 

Again. 

Your stomach flipped unpleasantly. Yelena noticed immediately because of course she did. 

“Oh no,” she said. 

“There is no ‘oh no.’” 

“There is absolutely ‘oh no.’” 

“Yelena.” 

“You are both idiots.” 

“Thank you for your insight.” 

She grinned. “You’re welcome.” 

Before you could argue further, Valentina appeared beside the two of you. 

“It’s nearly over,” she announced briskly. “One final round with the press downstairs, then we leave.” 

You nodded automatically. 

Valentina’s eyes scanned over you critically. 

“You still look composed. Good.” 

Something in your chest tightened. 

Bucky appeared behind Valentina then, expression instantly darkening at her tone.  

You noticed. 

And weirdly…that made the tightness ease slightly. 

The final press appearance felt endless. 

More cameras. More questions. More smiling. 

At one point a reporter asked if internal conflict within the team threatened operational efficiency. 

Before you could answer, Bucky spoke flatly beside you. 

“If we killed everyone we disagreed with, none of us would still be here.” 

Several reporters laughed nervously. 

You stared at him in horror. 

Bucky looked entirely unapologetic. 

You smoothly stepped in before Valentina could combust. “What Sergeant Barnes means is that strong teams challenge each other. Different perspectives make us more effective.” 

Bucky muttered, “That sounded nicer.” 

You resisted the urge to elbow him. Barely. 

Finally—finally—the event ended. 

The second the doors closed behind the last reporters, the entire team visibly deflated. 

John immediately started complaining about his shoes. 

Yelena stole leftover desserts into napkins for later. 

Alexei hugged three random diplomats goodbye like they were lifelong friends. 

And you… 

You were exhausted down to your bones. 

The ride back to the tower was quieter than usual. 

Thank God. 

You sat near the far end of the vehicle with your head leaned lightly against the window, staring out at the city lights passing by. 

Your heels had been abandoned beside your seat twenty minutes ago. 

No one commented on it. 

Bucky sat across from you. 

He tried not to stare. Failed repeatedly. 

You looked tired in a way he hadn’t seen before. Not just physically. Deeply. 

Your eyes were half-lidded. Your posture had lost all that perfect rigid control. 

For the first time all night, you looked... 

Human. 

The realization hit him strangely hard. 

The tower finally came into view just after one in the morning. 

Everyone shuffled out with varying levels of exhaustion. John disappeared toward the gym muttering about stress workouts. Alexei loudly declared he required “victory ice cream.” Yelena threatened to stab anyone who spoke to her before noon tomorrow. 

And then somehow it was just you and Bucky standing in the elevator together in exhausted silence. 

The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead. 

You leaned back against the wall with your eyes closed briefly. 

Bucky watched your fingers flex tiredly at your sides. 

Then your knees wobbled. Just slightly. 

But he saw it. 

His hand moved before his brain caught up, fingers wrapping carefully around your forearm to steady you. 

You froze instantly. 

So did he. 

His metal hand was warm against your skin. Solid. Careful. 

Not hurting you. Never hurting you. 

Your eyes lifted slowly to his. 

Too close. Way too close. 

Neither of you moved. 

The elevator continued upward in silence. 

“You should sleep tomorrow,” Bucky said quietly after a long moment. 

You blinked like the sentence surprised you. 

Then your defenses flickered weakly back into place. “Bossy.” 

“Hypocrite.” 

A tiny exhausted smile tugged at the corner of your mouth before you could stop it. 

Real. Small. But real. 

And Bucky felt something shift catastrophically in his chest. 

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Drop The Act Part 1

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky x Reader, Enemies to Lovers

Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Bucky was constantly on your nerves. And you were on his. You were too perfect. Your smile was too polished, your voice too delicate, your words too calculated. The public loved you, and you Valentina's only way to keep the Thunderbolts out of hot water with Congress. But, what happens when you drop the act? What happens when you stop hiding your tears behind a candy cane smile?

Warnings: panic attacks, kiss, alcohol consumption (but no one's drunk)

WC: 3k

Pure hatred. That was the only way to describe what was between you and the former Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes had hated you since the moment he walked into the Thunderbolts’ tower. 

You had been there since the beginning, and you didn’t appreciate Bucky coming in and disturbing the peace. The tower had been your home for over a decade, and now you were here as the de facto team leader of the New Avengers – there was no way you were calling it ‘Avengerz” no matter how much Alexei tried to convince you.

You had been going back and forth between your apartment in New York and underprivileged countries around the world where you worked to provide help and resources to millions of people around the world. 

This was something Bucky hated about you. Not that you did charity, obviously, but how polished your public-facing personality was. To the media, you were this bright, caring, generous, and – by all means – perfect person.  

That’s what Bucky hated. It was all a lie. Sure, you cared about the people you helped, and you certainly had a passion for it. But everything about you was too calculated. While you were kind and patient in interviews and profiles, you were brash and sarcastic to your teammates. In Bucky’s opinion, your conduct towards him and the Thunderbolts was bossy and rude. He was probably right. At least to some degree.  

That was Bucky’s main grievance.  

Your problem with him, however, was quite different. You knew that Bucky’s past was by no means his fault, but that didn’t erase the skills he’d learned in HYDRA. That, combined with the fact that he had a tendency to ignore your orders and go off on his own in missions, made him a liability in your eyes. You had been burned before by a cocky, wilful insubordinate, and you kept a close eye on Bucky because of it.  

Bucky liked to poke holes in your plans and orders, and it annoyed you to death. He might’ve occasionally hit the nail on the head and saved a few missions from disaster, but mostly he just did it to fire you up. To put it simply, Bucky was annoying and disobedient – two things that you did not tolerate as team leader.  

Anyway, yeah. Bucky didn’t like how perfect you seemed to everyone else, and you hated how he got under your skin. 

So, an event organized by Valentina as a publicity stunt after a successful mission where Bucky pretty much saved your ass was a recipe for disaster.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You stood motionless staring at yourself in the mirror in your bedroom. Your hair was softly curled, and one side was pinned up with a barrette your mother had given you as a child. Your lips were shiny and full and, combined with your mascara and gentle blush gave you a delicate glow.  

Your dress was floor length and strapless. It was a deep blue that complimented your complexion perfectly. The satin was sheer and smooth against your skin, and it made you feel like you were wearing the softest (albeit thinnest) blanket ever. Your shoes were strappy silver two-inch heels, and your toenails and fingernails were painted matching shades of silver.  

You looked majestic.  Like someone had manifested the summer night sky into a person.  

You knew what was coming next. Three hours of reporters, rich and slimy benefactors and memorized speeches. Three hours of showing off to the world so Valentina wouldn’t go off on you after the party for not fulfilling your role to perfection. You remembered the last time that happened.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“How could you mess this night up so royally?!” Valentina yelled in anger – mainly at you.  

You were having an off night, but as the sole Thunderbolt who could manage to charm an entire room out of their congressional votes and check books, that was not allowed to happen. You were the only one who could do what Valentina needed to maintain a modicum of sanity – public approval. If the media or the government flipped their current opinions on the Thunderbolts (which was begrudging toleration) then it would be Valentina’s head on a platter – and she would gladly drag you all down with her.  

Valentina continued to aggressively berate you while the rest of the Thunderbolts stood by silently watching. But you were zoning out. Your eyes became blank and there was no hint of the smile you had been struggling to maintain on the dance floor mingling with Senators. Your gaze was burning a hole through the table you were sat in front of and your mind was racing. ‘You messed up. You’ve done this a million times. Why aren’t you good enough yet? Huh? You’re an idiot. Incapable.’ your inner demon was screaming at you louder than Valentina. ‘You aren’t cut out for this. Why haven’t you quit yet? Your teammates all probably think you’re incompetent and useless. Might as well let those tears out because they all think you’re weak already.’ 

It was probably right. You had not been able to pull it together out there. Your smile had fallen with every passing minute, and your voice was losing its soft and innocent tone, becoming irritated and sharp. It was all your fault.  

Bucky was used to ignoring and acquiescing Valentina’s criticisms, so he was hardly paying attention to her latest rant. What he couldn’t ignore, however, was the way you were handling it. He tried to tear his eyes away from the way you looked like you had disassociated from the room and were fighting some internal battle that was far fiercer than any he had ever seen. Your foot was tapping rapidly on the ground, and your hands were shaking in your lap. Your bottom lip was beginning to quiver, and your eyes were becoming glassy with the hints of a waterfall, barely contained behind the dam of your desire to keep your dignity.  

Bucky didn’t want to care that you looked on the verge of a mental breakdown – but he did. Bucky didn’t want to repress his primal urge to run over to you and pull you into a bear hug until you were ok again – but he did. Bucky didn’t want to feel a pit in his stomach at the sight of your pain – but he did.  

Bucky didn’t want to admit that these feelings were probably a sign of something deeper and more important...so he didn’t.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You blinked rapidly, pushing that memory to the furthest corner of your mind. You lifted the corners of your lips, practicing your smile for the night.  

‘You can do better.’ the voice in your head echoed loudly.  

Within the next minute your teeth were showing in a smile that would fool anyone, your shoulders pulled back, and your throat cleared for hours of smooth-talking and forced flirtatious banter.  

You were ready - you had to be.  

You turned from the mirror to grab your silver clutch from your bed, took one last look at yourself, fixed a stray strand of hair on your face and confidently strolled out of your room.  

You spent the elevator and cab ride listening to your calming playlist through your ear buds and trying to keep your breathing and heart rate even. The playlist had been growing since you first joined the Avengers and realized that that team would be raising your anxiety levels severely. Now, it was a perfectly curated mix of delicate instrumentals, soft pop, and poetic indie music. You had it down to a science.  

The taxi pulled up outside the venue and you gulped at the sight of the stairs leading up to the convention centre. There were photographers and reporters galore, with lights flashing and mics reaching into people’s faces as if personal space was a thing you locked in your closet before coming. 

You paid the taxi driver generously before stepping out of the cab. Your heels clicked down onto the pavement, and you held your head high and plastered on your million-watt smile before strutting into the lion’s den.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You made it through the vultures with practiced ease, smiling for the cameras and answering the reporters with the answers Valentina had drilled into you a few nights ago running through your mind.  

Your smile was already making your cheeks ache but you would get through it. You always did. 

Once you made it inside the building and taken a ticket from the coat check, you made a discrete beeline for the bar. There were more people than usual that night, and that meant more work for you covering your teammate’s blundering awkwardness around public figures.  

You ordered a glass of champagne from the bar and you sat there for a minute, taking small sips and assessing your tasks for the night. 

Boom. 12 o’clock - Senator Jameson who has been an avid supporter of the team, though admittedly not of Valentina and more of you. You had managed to charm him into convincing the majority of his delegates to continue their support of the Thunderbolts. All it took was you running your hand up and down his arm and a well-timed wink in his direction while he was giving a speech. You would be sure to talk to him. 

Perfect. Off the dance floor, a group of millionaire young men who would fall into your seductive traps faster than moths spiraling into a porch light. You were recalling all of their parents’ names and positions when you conveniently made eye contact with one of them who looked to be the youngest of the group. You tilted your head with a soft smirk. He blushed wildly before looking down at his shoes. You, however, walked out of his line of sight before he worked up the courage to look up again. 

This night would be long, but at least it wouldn’t exert too much energy. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Bucky hadn’t spent much time perfecting his appearance - he was too distracted thinking of you.  

That was strange. Why was he thinking of you? 

As hard as he tried to deny it, he was worried about you. Last time you had been to one of these events it had ended with Valentina yelling at you for nearly ten minutes straight, and with him hearing your weak sobs all night through his bedroom walls. 

Bucky couldn’t get a lot of sleep normally, but there was no way he could’ve slept when you sounded like you were crying your eyes out till sunrise.  

Bucky was tugging at his suit sleeves to try and cover his metal arm more even though it would never happen. He had tried to ask Valentina if he could wear gloves, but she swiped them off him before he entered the event.  

Bucky was certainly making progress in being less ashamed of his arm, but in big events like this, his nerves and insecurities increased.  

Bucky arrived twenty minutes late. Not because he wanted to. Because he had spent seventeen of those minutes sitting in the backseat of the town car Valentina arranged, staring at the reflection of his metal hand in the tinted window and debating whether he should tell the driver to turn around. 

Public events exhausted him. The noise combined with the lights were a dizzying pair that never failed to suck all the energy out of him as soon he stepped into a party.  

It also didn’t help that whenever Bucky seemed to be defying the odds and maintaining a civil conversation with someone, he would let his gaze wander and see people tucked into corners, whispering into each others’ ears while pointing and staring at him, utterly failing at subtlety. He hated how they looked at him. 

Some with fear. Some with fascination. Some with pity - he hated pity most of all. 

The moment he stepped out onto the carpet leading into the convention centre, camera flashes exploded around him like gunfire. Consequently, Bucky’s shoulders stiffened instantly. 

“Sergeant Barnes! Over here!” 

“Bucky, can we get a statement?” 

“How are things going with the New Avengers?” 

“Are the rumours true that there’s tension inside the team?” 

“Can we get a picture?” 

The questions slammed into him one after another. 

Bucky forced his jaw to unclench. Smile. Don’t glare. Don’t look like you want to disappear. He barely remembered to wave. 

A photographer shouted for him to raise his vibranium arm higher. Another asked him to “do the superhero stare.” 

Bucky wanted to walk directly into traffic. Then he saw you. 

You stood near the entrance to the ballroom with a champagne flute balanced elegantly between your fingers while a circle of wealthy donors hung onto every word leaving your mouth. 

And somehow—somehow—you looked effortless. Like this was natural. Like you belonged here. Your smile was warm and bright and devastatingly convincing. 

You laughed softly at something one of the men said, placing a hand lightly against his forearm. The guy nearly forgot how to breathe. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course. You were good at this. Too good. 

You noticed him then. Your expression didn’t falter for even half a second, but Bucky caught the microscopic narrowing of your eyes before your polished smile returned. 

“There he is,” you said smoothly to the group. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” 

You crossed the ballroom toward him with perfect posture and measured grace. 

Bucky hated how pretty you looked doing it. He hated it even more when his chest tightened. 

“You’re late,” you murmured under your breath the moment you reached him. 

“You’re welcome for showing up at all.” 

Your smile widened for the cameras nearby. 

“Remember to smile.” 

“Remember to mind your business.” 

Your eyes flashed. 

“There are reporters five feet away from you asking if the team is falling apart. You are my business tonight.” 

Bucky bit back a retort. You reached up suddenly. His body locked. 

Your fingers brushed the lapel of his jacket, adjusting it slightly. The movement was quick. Professional. Entirely innocent. So why the hell did it feel like someone had struck a match beneath his skin? 

“You look tense,” you said quietly. 

“I am tense.” 

“No kidding.” 

You leaned closer without warning, lips barely inches from his ear. 

“Relax your shoulders before the reporters start asking if you’re preparing to assassinate somebody.” 

Bucky stared at you. 

You smiled sweetly at a passing senator while stepping away. 

“Try not to threaten anyone for at least thirty minutes,” you added. 

Then you vanished back into the crowd. And somehow Bucky was even more irritated than before. 

— 

You were exhausted already. The event had only been going for forty minutes. 

Forty. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling. Your social battery was rapidly deteriorating. And Bucky Barnes was making everything worse by existing in your peripheral vision. Every time you looked up, there he was. Standing near the walls. Looking deeply uncomfortable. Scowling at anyone who approached him. 

A billionaire’s daughter had tried flirting with him ten minutes ago and nearly ran away when he responded with a flat, “Okay.” 

You should not have found that funny. Unfortunately, you did. You took another sip of champagne while speaking to Senator Jameson. 

“Yes, reconstruction efforts in Sokovia are progressing well,” you said smoothly. “We’ve partnered with local organizations to make sure resources are actually reaching communities directly.” 

“And you’re overseeing all of that personally?” 

“As much as I can.” 

The senator looked at you with something dangerously close to admiration. 

“You’re remarkable.” 

You smiled politely. 

“That’s kind of you to say.” 

You had heard every variation of that sentence imaginable. 

Remarkable. Inspiring. Elegant. Brilliant. Perfect. 

If only they knew. 

The conversation continued while your attention drifted. You scanned the room automatically. 

Yelena was stealing miniature desserts from passing trays. Alexei was loudly telling a story to a cluster of diplomats who looked both entertained and frightened. John Walker looked one minor inconvenience away from punching someone. And Bucky— 

Bucky was watching you. 

Your eyes met across the ballroom. His expression shifted immediately. Like he hadn’t expected to get caught. You looked away first. Your stomach twisted. 

Annoying. He was annoying. That was all. 

“Miss?” Senator Jameson asked. 

You blinked. 

Right. Conversation. Focus. You slipped seamlessly back into character. 

— 

Bucky didn’t understand you. That was part of the problem. Actually, maybe it was the entire problem. He understood most people eventually. What motivated them. What scared them. What they wanted. Humans were predictable. 

You weren’t. 

One minute you were cool and composed, charming entire rooms full of people who would probably sell their own families for political leverage. The next minute you were snapping at John for leaving classified mission files in the kitchen. 

You spent your free time in war zones and refugee camps. You donated ridiculous amounts of money without telling anyone.  

You slept maybe four hours a night. You carried the weight of the entire team on your shoulders and acted like asking for help would kill you. 

And underneath all that polish was something frantic. Something tightly wound. Bucky had noticed it months ago. The tiny signs. 

The way your fingers trembled when you thought nobody was paying attention. The way your smile vanished the second conversations ended. The way you always exhaled shakily before interviews. The dark circles under your eyes after bad missions. 

You looked like someone constantly seconds away from collapsing. But nobody else seemed to notice. Or maybe they did. Maybe they just didn’t know what to do about it. 

Bucky definitely didn’t. So instead, he argued with you. Picked fights. Questioned your plans. Because somehow anger was easier to handle than concern. 

Pathetic. 

“Barnes.” 

He looked over. Valentina stood beside him wearing an expression sharp enough to cut glass. 

“You look miserable.” 

“Good observation.” 

“Fix it.” 

Bucky laughed humorlessly. 

“You invited me here.” 

“And you represent this team whether you like it or not.” 

Valentina glanced across the ballroom toward you. 

“Try taking notes from her.” 

Bucky’s jaw tightened immediately. 

Of course. Of course, Valentina would compare him to you. 

“She’s handling six conversations at once while making everyone in this room feel important. Meanwhile you look like you’re planning a prison escape.” 

“Maybe I am.” 

Valentina ignored him. 

“She’s carrying this entire event.” 

Something unpleasant twisted in Bucky’s chest. Because she was right. You were.  

And you looked exhausted doing it. 

A/N: Part 2 and 3 will be up in literally a few mins and once they are I'll link them in this post

[buckybarnesisbbg]

You're Gonna Go Far

Pairing: FoundFather!Bucky x Daughter!Reader

@livramentosgirl this is for you! <3

WC: ~3k

Warnings: nothing much there's mostly fluff, bit of angst in the flashback

-------------------------------------------------- 

This is normal conversation, babe 

It’s all fine 

Making quiet calculations where the fault lies 

----------------------------------------------------------- 

You took a sip of your water and watched the other girls do some cool-down stretches. Practice had just finished and everyone was knackered. You were captain of the squad, and you had worked them hard today. World championships were just two weeks away.

You had competed in worlds four times since you were eleven, but you’d only won once. Now, you were seventeen, and this was one of your last chances to compete.  You constantly rotated girls in and out of your squad – you'd been captain for almost three years now and you knew what kept the team running – but some girls had been there since the beginning. 

You watched one of your best flyers perfecting a stunt with her two bases and a back spot. You intensely studied her form in her liberty. It was as close to perfection as you could get. At least, that’s what you thought. The girls trusted your judgement and knew you would never sugar-coat their quality to them. If something was wrong, you told them and you instructed them on how to fix it.  

You nodded at the flyer as she walked off with her parents. You dismissed all the other girls and they all exited by their parents’ sides. You helped pack up the last of the equipment with your coaches. They thanked you for the assistance but told you to go home and get some rest.  

You grabbed your gym bag from the changing rooms and pulled out your phone. 5:45. It was Thursday which also meant it was yours and Bucky’s turn to cook dinner. You quickly jogged out to the parking lot and into your car. You turned the radio to a station playing some slow indie songs and pulled out of the lot onto the street. The drive home was quiet and while you hummed along to the music you thought about everything you would need to go over in practice tomorrow.  

You only had 8 practices plus one extra tumbling clinic for you and your fellow tumblers before you left for Los Angeles for the world competition. Everyone had the routine down cold; every step and skip, every jump and twist. Everything was choreographed and drilled to perfection. The thing was that every team would be like that. They would also have rehearsed and practiced for over a year on their unique routines, so yours had to stand out.  

You could remember countless times you’d vented or brainstormed ideas with Bucky (more like you just rattled off cheer terms he probably never understood but nodded along anyway). You smiled thinking about all the competitions where your nerves had been settled instantly by finding Bucky’s loving eyes in the crowd. Bucky was the strongest support you had in this world. All the other girls relied on their parents to comfort them when they fell, or to ease their anxiety before performances. You didn’t have parents – you had something better. 

Bucky. 

You were wandering aimlessly around the city when he found you. Not Bucky, but Steve Rogers. It was just after the Chitauri attack. Your apartment building had collapsed and you had somehow survived.  

You were only seven years old, and watched your parents get crushed by rubble right in front of your eyes. You were crying and sniffling with your arms tucked in front of your stomach, looking for someone who could help you. You heard some metal clashing and talking from around the corner so you took your chances.  

You saw Captain America and Iron Man trying to clear the streets for civilians to get through. You remember the children being held in their parents’ arms and being held while they cried or slept. You turned your head and glanced back at your apartment building.  

Your cries began to come louder and harder as you cried out for your mom. It didn’t take long for Steve’s super soldier hearing to pick up soft sobs and cries for help coming from a hundred feet away. 

 He turned and saw a meek, helpless girl on the street. He quickly ran over to you and knelt down in front of you.  

“Hey, kid. Where are your parents?” He asked gently.  

You merely turned back to the destroyed apartment complex. His lips dropped into a deep frown and he put his hand on your shoulder. “What can I do with her?” He thought to himself. Meanwhile, your tears were still flowing freely and you showed no signs of stopping.  

Steve had no other option but to bring you back to the tower to make sure you had no medical problems and find a place for you to go. “Can I pick you up, sweetheart?” He inquired. You nodded quickly, desperate for someone to help you and hold you.  

He scooped you up like you weighed nothing and carried you over to where Iron Man was now talking with Natasha Romanoff. Both immediately noticed the small girl in Steve’s arms and raised curious eyebrows.  

“We need to help her. I can’t leave her here.” 

Over the next few months they monitored you in the tower for injuries that didn’t really exist – they were just finding ways to extend your stay. Everyone quickly became attached to you, even if you didn’t speak much.  

Bruce came with you to your parents’ funeral and held you while you cried that night. Natasha made you food and bought you clothes. Tony cracked dad jokes that made you smile – after a few weeks. Thor let you braid his hair when you couldn’t sleep.  

They were your new family.  

And when Bucky joined, he found what he longed for before the war. A kid. A daughter, specifically. You helped Bucky come out of his shell even if you didn’t realise it. Bucky cared for you and was so gentle with you, it felt like he was your own father.  

Your father was probably a good man – you honestly didn’t know much as he never paid much attention to you. He was constantly busy with work and never had time to drive you to school or dance lessons.  

Bucky did all that. He helped you find and nourish your passion for cheer. He got you to your squad meetings. He came to your competitions, starting from the local area, to citywide, to state level, all the way to worlds for the first time when you were eleven. He was always there to cheer you on and pick you up when you fell.  

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The tower came into view, and you pulled into the underground garage, exhaustion finally beginning to settle into your bones. You killed the engine and sat there for a second, hands resting on the steering wheel while the song on the radio faded into another. 

You were tired. Not just physically, but emotionally too. 

Worlds always did this to you. It consumed your life for months straight until every thought in your brain was counts and choreography and deductions and timing. You loved cheer more than anything, but sometimes the pressure of it all felt suffocating. 

Still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because cheer gave you purpose. And Bucky gave you the strength to keep chasing it. 

You grabbed your bag and headed upstairs. The second the elevator doors opened, the smell of garlic and onions hit your nose. 

“Smells burnt,” you called out as you walked into the kitchen. 

“I resent that,” Bucky replied immediately. 

You grinned. He stood by the stove in a black t-shirt and grey sweats, wooden spoon in hand while Sam leaned against the counter eating shredded cheese directly from the packet. 

“You’re supposed to be helping,” Bucky muttered. 

“I am helping,” Sam argued. “Moral support.” 

“You’re eating the ingredients.” 

You dropped your bag beside the couch and laughed quietly to yourself. Some things never changed. Bucky looked over his shoulder the second he heard you fully enter the room, and his entire expression softened immediately. It always did around you. 

“How was practice?” he asked. 

“Good.” 

“That means terrible.” 

You sighed dramatically and wandered over to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. “We’re good, Buck. I’m just being picky.” 

“You’re always picky.” 

“Because I have to be.” 

He hummed knowingly at that. 

Bucky understood you better than anyone else ever could. He knew the difference between your “I’m fine” and your actually being fine. He knew when you needed advice and when you just needed someone to listen. 

“You eat enough today?” he asked casually. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, dad.” 

Sam snorted loudly. 

Bucky pointed the spoon at him. “Don’t start.” 

“You literally sound like a suburban father.” 

“I am a suburban father.” 

Your chest warmed instantly at that. 

Neither of you ever really talked about it outright. Bucky had never officially adopted you, but he didn’t need to. Everyone knew. The team knew. The Avengers knew. The coaches knew. 

Bucky Barnes was your dad in every way that mattered. And you were his kid. The thought alone made something ache softly in your chest. Because this season was ending. 

And with it, a huge part of your life. 

— 

The next two weeks flew by in a blur of training. Practice after practice after practice. 

Your muscles constantly ached and your wrists were permanently wrapped in athletic tape. Every day after school you drove straight to the gym and didn’t leave until almost six. Then weekends became full eight-hour training days where everyone survived entirely on caffeine and protein bars. 

But somehow, your team kept improving. The routine got cleaner. Sharper. More confident. And for the first time all season, you started believing you could actually win this thing. 

By the time you arrived in Los Angeles, your nerves were practically vibrating beneath your skin. 

The convention centre was packed wall-to-wall with athletes and coaches and screaming fans. Music echoed through every hallway while teams rushed around in matching warmups. 

The second your team walked into the practice arena, all the younger girls nearby stared at you in awe. 

You tried not to notice it. But your teammates did. 

“Oh my God,” one whispered. “They know who we are.” 

“They’re staring at you specifically,” another teased. 

You scoffed. “No they are not.” 

A tiny girl in a sparkly practice uniform suddenly approached you nervously. She couldn’t have been older than nine. 

“Excuse me?” she squeaked. 

You turned immediately. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

Her eyes widened at the nickname. “Can… can I have a picture with you?” 

Your entire team collectively melted. 

“Of course you can.” 

The girl beamed so hard you thought she might explode. Her mom quickly took the picture while the kid rambled excitedly about how she’d watched videos of your team online for years. 

“I wanna fly like you someday,” she said shyly. 

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. 

You crouched slightly to her height. “You will.” 

And you meant it. Because suddenly you saw yourself in her. 

Small. Nervous. Hopeful. Desperate to belong somewhere. 

Bucky always told you that people needed someone to look up to. Someone who made impossible things seem possible. 

Maybe that was you now. 

The realization sat heavily in your chest the entire day. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Finals night arrived quicker than you wanted it to. 

You stood backstage in full uniform while adrenaline coursed violently through your veins. The arena beyond the curtain roared with noise. 

Your teammates stretched beside you while coaches gave last-minute corrections nobody would actually remember. 

You flexed your fingers repeatedly. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Then panic started creeping in anyway. 

What if you fell? What if someone got hurt? What if all your years of competing ended with failure? 

Your stomach twisted painfully. 

“Hey.” 

You looked up instantly. Bucky stood near the entrance to backstage with an event wristband around his wrist and concern written all over his face. He’d probably bribed someone to get back here. 

You practically collided into him the second you reached him. His arms wrapped around you automatically. Safe. Warm. Home. 

“You okay?” he murmured. 

You nodded against his chest even though it was a lie. “Just nervous.” 

“That’s normal.” 

“What if we mess up?” 

Bucky pulled back enough to look at you properly. “Then you mess up.” 

You frowned immediately. “Great pep talk.” 

He smiled softly. “Kid, listen to me.” 

You did. Always. 

“I watched you work for this your whole life.” His voice stayed calm and steady. “And not once have I ever been prouder of you than I am right now.” 

Your eyes burned instantly. 

“You already made it,” he continued quietly. “You survived things most people never could and still grew into someone kind. Someone strong. You care about your team. Those girls trust you.” 

He squeezed your shoulder gently. 

“You already won.” 

Your chest physically hurt. Bucky had this horrible ability to say exactly the right thing every single time. 

You swallowed thickly. “You’re gonna make me cry before I perform.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You laughed shakily. Then the announcer called your team name. Your teammates immediately erupted into screams beside you. 

It was time. 

Bucky leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead. “Go show them who you are.” 

--------------------------------------------- 

We’re overdue for a revival 

Spent so long just getting by 

That’s the thing about survival 

Who the hell, 

Who the hell likes living just to die? 

--------------------------------------------- 

The lights were blinding when you stepped onto the mat. 

Thousands of people filled the arena seats, but your eyes immediately searched for one person. 

And found him. 

Bucky sat front row beside Sam and Sarah and half the Avengers, all wearing shirts with your team name across the front. 

Bucky noticed you instantly. Then he smiled. Your nerves disappeared. The music started. 

Everything after that became instinct. Count after count after count. Sharp motions. Tight formations. Controlled breathing. 

Your body moved automatically while adrenaline flooded your veins. The crowd screamed after every tumbling pass. 

Then came the stunt sequence. The hardest part of the entire routine. 

You climbed into your bases’ hands and rose into the air. 

One. Two. Pull. 

Perfect liberty. 

The arena exploded. 

You heard your coaches screaming somewhere in the distance. Then dismount. Transition. Pyramid. 

Every single thing hit. No falls. No bobbles. No deductions. And by the final count, you knew. 

You knew. 

The music ended and your entire team froze in the ending pose before immediately collapsing into screaming chaos. 

“Oh my God!” 

“We hit zero!” 

“We actually hit!” 

You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe while girls tackled each other into hugs. One of your teammates was already sobbing hysterically. 

You looked into the crowd instantly. Bucky was already standing. Clapping harder than anyone else in the arena. His eyes looked glassy even from a distance. 

And suddenly your own vision blurred too. 

— 

Awards felt like torture. 

Every team stood crowded together on the floor while nerves buzzed violently through the air. Girls held hands. Some prayed. Others cried before results were even announced. 

You stood between your co-captains with your heart hammering painfully hard against your ribs. 

Third place was announced. 

Not you. 

Second place. 

Still not you. 

Then— 

“And your 2026 world champions are…” 

The pause nearly killed everyone. 

Your team grabbed onto each other violently. 

“Phoenix Elite!” 

The arena erupted and you genuinely blacked out for a second. Your teammates screamed so loudly your ears rang while everyone jumped and cried and collapsed into one giant hug. 

You felt tears spill down your cheeks immediately. 

World champions. Again. Your final season. 

You did it. 

Medals were placed around your neck while cameras flashed everywhere. Younger athletes stared at your team like you were superheroes. 

And honestly? Maybe to them, you were. 

You searched the crowd desperately until you found Bucky again. This time he looked openly emotional. 

His hands covered his mouth briefly before he shook his head and laughed to himself like he couldn’t believe it. 

The second athletes were dismissed from the floor, you sprinted toward him. He caught you effortlessly as you nearly launched yourself into his arms. 

“We did it!” you cried. 

Bucky laughed breathlessly while holding you impossibly tight. “Yeah, baby. You did.” 

You buried your face into his shoulder. “I’m gonna miss this.” 

His grip softened slightly. 

Cheer had been your entire life for years. Long practices. Competitions. Road trips. Injuries. Victories. 

And now it was ending. Bucky pulled back enough to look at you. 

“You know something?” he asked quietly. 

“What?” 

“You’re gonna go far.” 

The words hit you harder than they should have. Because for so long, you’d been terrified of what came next. Life after cheer. Life after this version of yourself. 

But Bucky looked at you with complete certainty. Like there had never been a doubt in his mind. 

And maybe there hadn’t been. 

“You think so?” you whispered. 

“I know so.” 

Your eyes burned all over again. Around you, the arena still buzzed with celebration and music and noise, but suddenly everything felt quiet. 

Safe. 

You thought about being seven years old and alone in the rubble. You thought about Steve carrying you to the tower. Natasha braiding your hair. Thor making you laugh. Bruce comforting you after nightmares. 

And Bucky. Always Bucky. 

The man who sat through every practice showcase. Every competition. Every breakdown in the kitchen after a bad routine. The man who learned cheer terminology just so he could understand you better. The man who loved you like you were his from the very beginning. 

Maybe families didn’t always happen the normal way. Maybe sometimes they were built slowly. Carefully. From grief and healing and love. 

Bucky brushed his thumb beneath your eye, wiping away tears that wouldn’t stop falling. 

“So,” he said softly. “World champion. What now?” 

You smiled through the tears. 

“I don’t know.” 

And for the first time in your life— 

That didn’t scare you anymore. 

------------------------------------------ 

If you wanna go far, 

Then you gotta go far. 

----------------------------------------- 

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Ook so random I saw your post abt song fics I LOVE song fics and it’s completely okay if not but maybe like a Bucky one and like sorry if this is specific I feel so bad ahhaha based off your gonna go far by Noah kahan and maybe like he found her on the streets when she was little or smth and took her to tower and all and they’re rly close like father and daughter kinda and she got into cheerleading not long after he found her and now she’s like 16/17 and like and it’s her last worlds comp and all and she’s been to worlds like for a few years in a row and stuff but this is the last one since they leave at end of season and stuff and her team get first and stuff and it’s all sweetttt and like all the little kids are watching being like I wanna be like that and buckys so proud and stuff also sorry this has genuinely turned into a yap ahha but yess Bucky and cheer is like two fav things combined plus Noah kahan AHAHHAHA 🤍🤍

omg I love that idea! i've never done anything like it before but i'll defo give it a go and I'll tag you when i post it ❤️ thx for the suggestion!

(i also don't know anything about cheer but we'll see what happens lol 😭)

[buckybarnesisbbg]

Song recs for fics?

Any songs y'all want to inspire some fics? Also any characters in mind?

[buckybarnesisbbg]

I'm Not Enough

Pairing: Bucky x reader, thunderbolts!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky was always insecure and you were always prepared to get him through it. But, seeing you getting cozy with Bob set him on a path there was no turning back on.

Warnings: no use of y/n, bit of swearing, angst with no comfort (sorry was in angstyyyy mode today), miscommunication, feelings of self-doubt, anxiety etc.

WC: ~2k

You were over. Your relationship was done. Bucky had ended it.  

Yours and Bucky’s relationship had definitely not been simple or traditional in any way – but it was yours. You seemed to orbit each other in perfect harmony. Bucky worshipped you and helped you to believe you were enough and that you were always capable no matter how much you doubted yourself. And you helped Bucky in his journey to overcome his past self and nightmares that still plagued him.  

Affection was normally displayed in quiet moments: a kiss on the cheek before a mission or a positive note left on the other’s desk when there was a ton of paperwork to do. Of course, there were also very dramatic moments, like the first time Bucky told you he loved you. Screaming across a battlefield during an epic fight with Thanos with the fate of the world in your hands was definitely not the time to be confessing your undying love – but it happened.  

Unfortunately, Bucky still had his insecurities. Bucky always thought you were too good for him, and that he could never be what you deserved. You did your best to make him feel safe and loved but sometimes his anxiety got the best of him. On those days you would let him talk and cry all his worries out and you would be there to reassure him and acknowledge his feelings. And when he didn’t want to talk, just sit and be, you would do that too. Spending the entire night with Bucky’s head lying softly on your chest while you ran your fingers through his hair.  

The fight happened after a training session with the rest of the Thunderbolts. Bucky was not having a great day mental health wise, but he was trying to get through training and he could vent to you all he wanted later. Every interaction with another human being (except for you) on that day seemed to be his last nerve. He could almost hear his sanity snapping every time Alexei asked where the spare punching bags were because he’d broken another.  

He was high strung and on edge, and seeing you helping Bob with his form when firing a gun at a silhouette target sent him into a downward spiral. His anxiety tumbled into a powerful thunderstorm of doubt and fear at losing you.  

Of course he knew you would never dream of cheating on him -you’d rather die than be unfaithful to a man who had such trust issues. But, seeing you with your hands on Bob’s hips to adjust his form, made him rethink your entire relationship. You were talking closely into Bob’s ear and and laughing quietly when he cracked his usual self-deprecating jokes.  

His breaths were getting shallower and sharper when Bob fired a shot and you enthusiastically hugged him when he hit almost dead-center. He stormed out of the gym, abandoning a sparring match with Yelena, ignoring her yells of anger and confusion. You noticed right away when Bucky sulked out of the gym, so you left Bob with John -who would no doubt hinder Bob’s progress with a firearm - but Bucky was more important.  

The hallway smelled industrial and commercial – definitely Valentina’s touch. It didn’t feel like the home you had come to know when the Avengers resided there. You caught up with Bucky who was pacing back and forth in front of the doors to the zen garden Bob had been intent on maintaining.  

“What’s going on, Bucky? You left the gym so quickly.” You asked, hoping for a straightforward and honest answer, but you were ready to coax it out of him with cuddles and forehead kisses if necessary.  

“It’s…it’s nothing, baby. It’s stupid.” He said, keeping his head down. His feet didn’t stop moving and his hand came up every seven seconds to run through his hair.  

You grabbed his hands in an attempt to stop his frantic pacing and grab his attention. His fingers stopped shaking and his shoulders relaxed and dropped an inch as soon as your hands were in his. But you weren’t out of the woods. 

“Please talk to me, Bucky. You promised to be more open. If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, I can’t help you.” You said in the most compassionate and loving tone you could muster. Not that it was forced – you obviously cared for him very much – but you were also tired from the days activities and not getting much sleep last night (another nightmare of Bucky’s resulted in you waking at 3 am and not getting back to sleep).  

“You-you were with Bob in there...and it just...” He couldn’t get a sentence out. He kept rethinking his words and hesitating. 

You let out a soft, tired sigh. It was also one of relief at this being a situation you could easily fix, and not something bigger like an anxiety attack or one of Bucky’s nasty migraines. 

But Bucky heard a different sigh. He didn’t hear the dedication and reassurance you had meant to convey with it. Instead, when your warm breath hit his face, he assumed you were annoyed and bored. Bored with him constantly bugging you with his crippling insecurities.  

His shoulders tensed once more and he quickly dropped your hands. You raised your eyebrows at his odd behavior. Normally, when you came to Bucky’s aid, he would gratefully accept – and he would never pass up an opportunity to hold you close.  

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.” He said coldly. He tried to walk past you, hoping to go up to your shared bedroom and get some sleep. He figured you would just go back to the gym, grateful for some time away from him. He knew he wouldn’t sleep well, if at all, without you by his side but he needed to remove himself from your clearly agitated presence.  

“Wha-Bucky? Bucky, where are you going?” You quickly caught up with him and grabbed his wrist.  

“It’s fine, doll. Just go back to training. It’s nothing, you don’t want to have to deal with me right now.” He kept his gaze locked on your sneakers and refused to look up when you asked him too. 

“What are you talking about, Bucky? I’m always going to be here for you.” 

That made him look up. “Bob would treat you better. You know it. I know it. He probably knows it. You should find someone better.” 

You had to keep your jaw from physically dropping at Bucky’s statements. He was so wrong. Bucky had always had his problems, but this was new. He’d never outright said you should leave him.  

“Bucky, I don’t want to be with Bob. I love you, Jamie. Only you.” 

Normally, those words would shake him out of whatever stupor he was in, but it wasn’t working now. 

“Doll, this isn’t good. I’ll only drag you down. I don’t know why you ever settled for me as long as you did.” His voice was rough and low.  

Alright, now you were getting angry. You had done everything you could to make Bucky feel like he deserved the world; that he deserved you. Why wasn’t it enough? 

You’d never told him, and you often thought it was stupid, but Bucky’s insecurities could make you feel insecure yourself. What were you doing wrong? Why weren’t you giving him the support he needed? There was always a gnawing feeling in your gut when Bucky had a new episode of doubts and tears. What could you have done to prevent him from feeling this way? Why didn’t you do it? What kind of awful person couldn’t make their own partner feel safe in the relationship? 

“Bucky, I don’t know what you need from me.” You decided to try and subtly voice your concerns. “I need you to tell me what you need, what you’re worried about, and I can try to help you.” 

“I’ve already told you, haven’t I?” His tone was getting more agitated and sharp.  

You responded accordingly, becoming blunter and defensive. “It’s not about Bob. It’s never been about you worrying about me leaving you for someone else. I’ve told you a thousand times how much I love you. How much it would tear me apart to not have you in my life. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” 

That stung. A small part of him wanted to pick you up in a bear hug and hold each other until the end of time. But he was too angry and too defeated to listen.  

“Doll, I...this has to end.” 

“What?” Your mouth ran dry and your eyes widened so big you thought they might pop out of your head. Your heart began to drum louder in your chest with anxiety. “No, Bucky. It doesn’t. I can help you with this. I’ve always helped you through this.” 

Bucky sighed and shook his head. “It’s not enough. You haven’t...haven’t helped me.”  

That certainly wasn’t what he meant to say. But his brain was shrouded grief and doubt and it was like he couldn’t hear the words coming out of his mouth. He was moving on autopilot; his only goal was making you realize you deserved better.  

“I haven’t helped you?” Your voice was small, meek, and on the verge of cracking. Your vision was clouding with unshed tears.  

“You can’t help me. You’ll never be able to help me.” Bucky meant this to say that he was beyond fixing, but this was not how you took it. You took it as him saying you weren’t loving or caring enough to help him. “Just leave, doll.” 

“Fine.” You were defeated and trying not to cry in front of him. “But don’t call me ‘doll’. You’ve ended this. Follow through. I can’t believe you, Bucky. I’ve tried so hard.” Your hands were shaking and tears were flowing softly down your cheeks, and you didn’t try to stop them. You wanted him to see the pain he was causing you. Maybe it would bring him to his senses. “I’ve tried so hard to make you feel safe and loved and secure. Every time you doubted my love for you it broke my heart that you couldn’t see that you deserve all the love in the world. Regardless of your past. I love you, Bucky. And I know you love me.  

Sooner or later, you will come back. You’ll realize what you’ve just done, and you’ll want to fix things. But it’ll be too late. You’ve broken us. You were our undoing. Not me. Don’t you dare come crawling back and beg for forgiveness. What you just said made me feel like shit. And you promised me you would always treat me with respect and admiration and kindness. You know I’ve never gotten that before you. No one has ever loved me like you. Why can’t you see that I love you? Why am I not enough for you, Bucky? I know you try and paint it as your insecurities, that you’re not good enough for me, but based on what you just told me...I’m the problem. I’m not good enough for you. Goodbye, Bucky. And don’t even think about chasing after me.” 

You turned your back to him and stormed off. You felt like you were floating on air and trudging through wet cement at the same time. Your senses were detaching and yet you were aware of every noise in a mile radius. You and Bucky were over.  

When you opened the door to your room you were panting and crying even harder, if that was possible. You slammed it behind you and broke. Your back hit the door and you slid down with sobs and shaky breaths and there was no sign of it ever stopping. You could sit there and cry forever. So that’s what you did. You sat there and cried.  

Because you had just lost the person you’d loved the most in the world. The person who held you and kissed you and hugged you and told you he loved you a million little times. He’d left you. Because you weren’t...enough.