How do you think they’d react if Bucky and Steve are out grabbing some food and the reader comes running up or nearby and grabs onto Bucky trying to get away from a creep?
those boys are ready to thrown down in .2 seconds
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You didn’t plan to end up sprinting down the street in the middle of Brooklyn, heart pounding like a war drum.
You’d gone out for coffee—a treat to break up the long afternoon—and that should’ve been it. One quiet latte, a walk home, maybe a podcast. Instead, you picked up an uninvited shadow halfway down the block. He’d followed too close, kept talking even when you ignored him, his voice cutting through traffic and the chatter of a dozen other lives that had nothing to do with yours.
You tried polite. You tried firm. Neither worked.
When his footsteps quickened, you ran.
And when you spotted a familiar pair of broad shoulders across the street—Bucky Barnes, silver arm glinting in the late sun, and Steve Rogers beside him, laughing at something—you didn’t think, you bolted.
“Bucky!” The sound tore out of you, breathless and panicked.
He turned instantly.
You collided with him a second later, your hands gripping his jacket, fingers clutching like he was the only thing keeping you upright.
“Hey, hey—doll, what’s wrong?” His voice dropped, gentle but urgent.
You couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “This guy—he’s—he’s following me, I—”
And then Bucky’s face changed.
That warmth vanished, replaced by something cold, razor-sharp. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you safely behind him while his other hand flexed—the metal one, catching the streetlight like a threat.
“Which one?” His voice was calm, but only barely.
Steve had already turned, scanning the street like the soldier he still was. It didn’t take long. The man who’d been chasing you slowed, seeing who you’d reached. Maybe he didn’t recognize the two Avengers at first, but the look in Bucky’s eyes made up for it.
“Hey,” Steve said, stepping forward, casual but deliberate. “Can I help you with something?”
The guy muttered something about a misunderstanding. Bucky took one step toward him. Just one.
The air changed.
The kind of silence that belongs on battlefields settled over the street. The kind that makes bystanders stop and take notice.
Bucky didn’t need to say a word—he just looked at the man, jaw tight, body still but ready. The creep stopped talking. Then turned and stumbled back the way he’d come.
Only when he was gone did Bucky breathe again. His shoulders softened as he turned back to you, eyes scanning your face.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
You nodded shakily, but your pulse still hadn’t slowed. “I—I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Steve said gently, stepping closer. “You did the right thing. Always come find us, alright?”
Bucky’s hand was already on your cheek, thumb tracing lightly just to ground you. “You did perfect. I got you.”
It wasn’t the words so much as the way he said them—low, sure, like he was anchoring you to the world again.
He led you to the diner’s outdoor table, slid his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders before you could protest. His palm stayed warm at the back of your neck while Steve ducked inside to grab some water.
“You with me, doll?”
You blinked, trying to focus on his face instead of the memory of the footsteps behind you. “Yeah. Sorry, I—just didn’t expect to—”
He gave a small smile. “Not exactly a coffee break, huh?”
That earned a shaky laugh from you, and he seemed to take it as a victory.
Steve came back out with a to-go cup and set it in front of you. “Here. Drink this. Bucky’ll walk you home, yeah?”
You started to protest. “You don’t have to—”
Bucky gave you a look that could’ve frozen a river. “Not up for debate.”
So he walked beside you, one hand in his pocket, the other brushing against your back every few steps like he couldn’t help checking you were still there. When cars passed too close to the curb, he shifted you closer to him. When you flinched at a sudden horn, his hand squeezed your shoulder gently until your breathing evened out.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked again once the apartment building came into view.
You nodded. “I just—thank you. Both of you. I didn’t even think, I just saw you and—”
“And you ran to me,” he said softly. Something in his chest tightened at that. He’d spent decades being the thing people ran from, not to. But you? You’d reached for him like safety itself.
“I’ll always come if you call, you know that?”
You looked up, eyes catching the fading light. “I do now.”
He smiled, small and real. “Good. Now, let’s get you upstairs. Steve’ll kill me if I don’t make sure you lock the door.”
Once inside, he lingered—checked your windows, asked if you wanted him to stay until you calmed down. You tried to insist you were fine, but he didn’t buy it. Instead, he leaned against the wall by your couch, arms folded, waiting until the tension finally bled out of your shoulders.
Only then did he say quietly, “Next time something like that happens—call me, yeah? Or Steve. Don’t ever try to handle it alone.”
You smiled faintly. “You’d come running?”
His grin was soft but full of promise. “Faster than you’d believe.”
Later that night, when Steve called to check in, Bucky’s voice was calm again—but you could still hear the edge in it.
“Yeah, she’s okay. He’s not gonna bother her again.”
Steve hesitated. “You didn’t—”
“Nah,” Bucky said, mouth quirking. “Didn’t have to. Guess the look did the job.”
“Still got that ‘terrify grown men with a stare’ thing going, huh?”
“Useful skill.” He paused, glancing toward the window where the city lights flickered. “She was scared, Stevie. Really scared.”
“Anyone would be,” Steve said quietly. “But she ran to you. That says something.”
Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just exhaled, soft. “Yeah. It does.”
When he stopped by your place the next day—ostensibly to “return your jacket”—you were already smiling when you opened the door.
“You could’ve kept it,” you teased.
He shrugged. “Didn’t smell like me anymore.”
You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you had shifted into something warmer. Something steadier.
“You feeling better?”
“Yeah,” you said honestly. “Thanks to you.”
He didn’t say anything for a second, just looked at you—really looked—and then gave a little nod. “Good. Means I did my job.”
You tilted your head. “What job’s that?”
His smile was small but sure. “Keeping you safe.”
And maybe it shouldn’t have made your heart beat the way it did, but it did. Because the man who once thought he didn’t deserve to protect anyone now stood in your doorway like he’d been born for it.
“Guess I owe you lunch,” you said softly.
He grinned, eyes crinkling. “Guess you do.”
And somewhere across town, Steve just shook his head when Bucky texted Can’t make training. Got plans.
Because even super soldiers know—sometimes the best kind of rescue ends with coffee, a second date, and a smile that finally makes it all worth it.
