Summary: Bucky isn't a flirt. He's a tease. A menace. And he's everywhere.
Word Count: Over 2.6k
Warnings: Flirting, pet name (sweetheart), teasing, tension, sexual chemistry, breeding mention, swearing, humor, slight feels, confessions of sorts, Bucky Barnes (he's forward and a warning, okay?)
A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, and it turned into a rambling, but I hope you lovelies like it anyway! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
It starts in the kitchen.
You walk in to find Bucky in mid-stretch, your jaw dropping like it just discovered the force of gravity. His shirt is missing, his sweatpants hung low. The handsome bastard flexes, legitimately flexes, when he reaches for something on the top shelf. Don’t ask what the color or content of the object in his hand is because you have no idea. And he just looks at you with a knowing smirk, like he was waiting for you to catch him.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
That was new.
He doesn't say it like it's a joke. Doesn't toss the endearment out casually. He says it like it means something. And you aren't sure what to do with that.
“You’re talking to me?” you ask, looking around. You, the newest member of the team. The one who had to earn his trust.
“Who else would I be talking to?” he asks in return, tossing the object between his hands and drawing attention to how long and thick his fingers are.
“Yeah, but… Sweetheart?”
“Yeah. That's what you are. Sweet,” he says like it’s obvious. “And you have a heart.”
You blink. Is the grump flirting with you? To be fair, it isn't fair to think of him as a grump. After everything he went through, he has the right to feel jaded, over it, however he wants to feel.
And it isn't like he was grumpy when you moved into the tower. He was… curious. Watchful. Almost like a cat trying to assess if you were a threat or not. Didn't stop you from being nice to him, and he was never rude in return while he warmed up to you. But he was never like this.
Until now.
“Would you prefer I call you something else?” He brushes by when you don’t respond, deliberately getting in your space. He’s huge, and you nearly tremble from the attention he’s giving you. “If not, I’ll just keep calling you sweetheart… sweetheart,” he adds right in your ear before leaving the room.
Your heart pounds. You have to brace yourself against the counter. Did you imagine that? Did he get hit with some weird pollen, or did you wake up in an alternate universe?
Sweetheart.
The word lingers in the air, thick and sweet, like his presence did. He doesn't call Yelena or Ava by any terms of endearment. He’s polite with them. Friendly now and then. Not that soft or intimate.
So, why you?
And you can't stop thinking about the way he used to watch you from across the room, silent and still. How his blue eyes would follow you like he was just to figure out a puzzle he didn't know if he wanted to finish. Now he brushes past you like he put the last piece in place.
Bob walks in and gives you a small nod and a shy smile. “Morning.”
You calm your racing heart. “Bucky called me ‘sweetheart',” you blurt out.
“Oh.” He’s silent for a moment before his smile widens. “Well, he did finally say you earned your spot here.”
You nod, smiling to yourself. He did say that, and it felt good. There was trust and respect now when he looked at you. “Still doesn't explain why he called me that.”
Or why he was preening like a peacock in his half-naked glory.
“Maybe he was being nice,” Bob muses, but there's happiness in his eyes that you don't see often.
Maybe he is. It’s harmless. Or maybe he’s just messing with you. Then again, maybe he isn't.
It escalates from there.
Bucky and Alexei are chatting after a mission when you walk by and give them a nod. The handsome super soldier waves you over with a bit of mischief in his eyes. You raise an eyebrow when he stands up and slowly unzips his leather jacket. Your throat goes dry and you’d swear the show is just for you, if not for Alexei sitting close by.
You don’t back up when he tosses the jacket away and gets in your personal space bubble, your thighs pressing together. Removing a single garment shouldn’t be as sexy as he made it out to be. It’s not fair.
“What’s up?” you ask, your voice high.
“We were talking about undercover missions.” He slips an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, letting you feel his hard body through his black clothes. “We’d make a good couple for one, right?” he asks Alexei.
“The best couple!” The Red Guardian shouts it so loud you wince. “You two? So good together. Beautiful babies in your future.”
Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Beautiful babies?” you repeat very slowly.
“Yes! A beautiful new generation!”
“What do you think?” You dare to sneak a look at Bucky when his grip tightens, his eyes dark. “You wanna practice making babies?” he asks so seriously that you sputter.
Because how does he go from casually stretching shirtless to asking you that?
He wants to practice “breeding” you? He wants to take you to bed? He wants-
John chooses that exact moment to make his presence known, complaining about one of the reports he has to do. It effectively ends the conversation and puts a sour look back on Bucky’s face when he lets you go. Your brain tries to catch up when you leave, feeling his eyes on you until you’re out of sight. You don't even remember why you’re going to the hall to begin with since all you can think of is him.
“What the hell?” you utter.
What is happening?
Bucky starts leaving blankets in every room so you don’t get cold, and they smell just like his cologne. He has snacks and water for you, too, so you don’t forget to eat or drink when you get wrapped up in tasks. No one else looks out for you like that.
He’s suddenly everywhere, too. Leaning in doorframes that you need to pass through, making sure to touch you when you walk by. Standing too close when you’re cooking something in the kitchen, letting his warmth envelope you. Yelena and Ava exchange looks and subtle smiles whenever he hovers.
“You going to taste test her cuisine?” Ava asks.
“I’d like to taste test something of yours,” he says low enough for you to hear, touching your waist when you inhale. He wants to taste you, too? “I’m happy to test anything she wants,” he tells Ava.
“I’ll bet you are,” Yelena mutters.
And he insists on sitting beside you, always. Debriefings, on the jet, everywhere. He tosses John out of a spot just so he can sit next to you. He turns his chair or body toward you, making sure you know he's paying attention whether you're speaking or not. And he hangs on your every word to the point where you squirm under his heated gaze.
The man seriously went from a cat who wasn’t sure if he could trust you to claiming you as his person.
“You know,” he begins, licking his lips, “I could listen to you read the phone book, and I’d never get bored.”
“Do… Do those even exist anymore?” you ask because you don't know what else to say.
His eyes crinkle when he laughs, and he places a hand on your arm, like he has to touch you. “You're funny, sweetheart.”
Warmth blooms in your chest, and you don't know what to do. It's not just the nickname and the teasing. It's the way he doesn’t break, appearing cool and confident. It’s the way he looks at you like you’re anchoring him to the present, like every word that comes out of your mouth is a lifeline.
And the hand on your arm, gentle and grounding but creating sparks like static under your skin. He doesn't touch most people. Not casually. Not like this. But he touches you.
You glance at his hand and back up at him. “You’re looking at me like I'm a game you're trying to win.”
“You’re not a game.” He tilts his head. “But I do feel like I'm winning when you're close by.”
It doesn't end there.
He starts lifting things that don’t need lifting. With one hand. Your chair instead of sliding it across the room. Your desk when you decide to move it to another corner. And you. Yeah, you. He tosses you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, chuckling as you shriek and protest.
“What?” he asks with amusement when you squirm. “Thought you needed help getting to the gym.”
Oh, the gym. You aren’t sure what kind of sounds he made before you showed up, but his grunts and groans when he lifts weights are nothing short of pornographic when you’re close by. And he doesn't look at his reflection when he exercises, barely breaking a sweat. Oh, no. He looks right at you.
And it doesn't go unnoticed by you that the others aren't there when you and Bucky exercise, which wasn’t the case when you first showed up.
“I can go for hours,” he casually states one day, and you almost trip over your own feet. “Can help you with your stretches, too… so you feel it nice and deep.”
You just about short-circuit. “Nice and deep, huh?”
“Nice. And. Deep.”
Sparring with him ends with you wet and frustrated. There is no reason for his hips to press against yours, letting you feel that he really is big all over. No explanation for why he pins your arms above your head and looks at you like he wants to devour you when you pant beneath him. And why the hell does he always smirk and leave you laying there wanting more?
It’s because Bucky Barnes is a fucking tease.
A fucking menace.
“I should shower.” He brushes his ridiculously gorgeous hair back and smirks. “You know, you could shower with me and save some water.”
Your legs almost give out. “Is that the only reason why you want me there? To save on a precious bill that you don't even pay?”
You want to hear him say the reason.
His eyes sweep over you. “Oh, I think you know why, sweetheart,” he answers, leaving you hot and bothered while he gets his bag. Like the fucking tease he is. “Maybe we can practice making those babies.”
Tease. Menace. Fucker.
“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face!” you call after him.
“I’ve had a brick to the face before. Don't recommend it!” he calls back.
You huff and lay out on the mat, high and dry. You laugh a little. What is he doing to you? What are you to him?
And tonight, the team is once again making themselves sparse while he sits beside you on the couch in the common room, his massive thigh pressed against yours, his arm casually tossed behind you like he owns the space and you. And, well, maybe he does. Maybe you want him to.
“Did you realize we’re wearing the same shade of blue today?” You glance at his shirt and then yours. “We’re in sync. A perfect fit.”
In sync, but he hadn't kissed you. A perfect fit, but he hadn't asked you out. This man was put here to test your resolve.
“What?” he asks when you shift toward him, his arm tightening around you.
“You drive me crazy, Bucky Barnes,” you finally say, narrowing your eyes at him.
He raises an eyebrow. “I drive you crazy? I’m just existing,” he replies, feigning innocence. “And right now, you’re staring at me.”
Maybe you are. Maybe you’re always staring. Because he makes you look. Because he started all this. And he better finish it.
“Don't you dare act innocent when you know what you're doing,” you hiss when he smiles. “Calling me ‘sweetheart’ and marching around shirtless like a harlot and the showing off with your muscles-”
“You noticed my muscles?”
“Talking about making babies with me.”
“Alexei made the first comment about that, but our babies would be adorable,” he says, and your heart swells.
“And the blankets and the snacks?” you question.
“As much as I want to be the one to keep you warm, I thought it might be weird if I held you all the time, so I left you blankets. And you need to eat and stay hydrated. I need you to take care of yourself while also letting me take care of you” he answers.
“You got me there.” It’s enough to make you swoon. He has to be an amazing dom. “But what about the dirty noises you make when you exercise and-”
“If you think that's dirty, you should hear me when I-”
You put a hand over his mouth, your cheeks hot. “And you talk about me staring at you, but you always stare at me.”
“Because you're pretty. You're so fucking pretty,” he whispers when your hand drops, bringing his hand to your cheek. “And you’re so smart. That's a reason I love listening to you.”
“Even if I just read the phone book?” you question.
“Even then,” he promises, his thumb moving along your skin. “And you're so capable. That’s a reason I love sparring with you.”
You giggle. “That's a reason?”
“That, and it’s hot as hell when you're underneath me,” he answers truthfully, making you feel like you're about to catch on fire. “But most importantly.” He takes a breath. “I trust you.”
Your eyes burn. You know he does, but hearing him say it reinforces it. “I trust you, too,” you whisper.
He chuckles, soft and low. “I'm so out of practice when it comes to wooing a dame. I’m not who I was before, but I’m somehow okay with that.”
You melt. “I think you’re great just as you are,” you tell him, making him softly smile. You’re happy that he’s okay with himself. He has every right to be. “So, you're trying to woo me? At the very least, you were certainly trying to get my attention.”
It hits you that maybe all of this is his version of a confession. Not grand gestures. Just… proximity. Attention. Flirting. Affection. Openings offered for you to follow him or maybe meet him halfway.
He nods.
“And the team knows?” you ask.
Another nod. “Yeah.” For the first time he almost looks sheepish. “We’ll have their support if we move forward.”
It means the world that they want him to be happy. Well, both of you. “Is that what you want? To move forward together?” you ask above a whisper, almost like you’ll jinx it if you say it too loud.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he breathes, slowly leaning in. Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds. This is it. He’s finally going to kiss you.
And you move back before his lips touch yours.
“Wooing involves flowers. I think I deserve them,” you tell him, ducking out of his grasp and watching as his jaw drops. “Then maybe we can talk about moving forward.”
He recovers quickly, and you see a flash of respect in his eyes. “You do,” he agrees, reaching for your hand before you can get up and walk away. “Can I take you out tomorrow night? Please? I’ll get you flowers.”
You want to do a happy dance because he finally asked, and you wonder if the team took bets on when this would happen. “Only if you wear those gray sweatpants,” you smirk.
He smirks back at you. “Knew you liked those,” he says, his forehead crinkling. “What will you wear?”
“I’ll surprise you.”
And for once, you’ll tease him.
Aww. I wonder what the date will be. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
A/N: This piece is part of the Sexy September Scribbles challenge, hosted by myself and @soelstress Sep 29th: Once we start I’m not gonna stop
The door had barely closed before you were in his arms, mouths colliding, teeth and tongues desperate. His bag hit the floor with a thud, forgotten, as his hands roamed rough over your body, tugging at clothes like he couldn’t stand the barrier.
“Mace-” you gasped, pressed against the wall, his stubble scraping your skin as he kissed down your jaw, biting just enough to make you whimper. "Jamie Baby,"
He broke away, breath hot against your mouth. “Careful, sweetheart. Once we start, I’m not gonna stop.”
The warning only made you clutch at him harder, grinding against the thick bulge in his jeans. His groan was ragged, guttural, as his hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you so your legs locked around his waist. You moaned into his ear when the press of him rubbed right where you needed it.
He carried you down the hall, stumbling into walls, half laughing, half growling, before dropping you onto the bed. His mouth was everywhere, your throat, the swell of your breast, his hands shoved your clothes out of the way.
When he finally pushed inside, the stretch made you gasp, your body clenching tight around him as he bottomed out. He groaned against your neck, holding still for a moment, trembling with restraint.
“God, I missed this,” he muttered, kissing you hard, hips beginning to move. His thrusts were deep, steady, each one wringing another cry from your lips.
Your nails scratched down his back as you arched into him, lost in the feel of him home, here, inside you.
“I told you,” he groaned, forehead pressing to yours as his pace quickened, “Once we start, I’m not gonna stop. Not ‘til I’ve fucked every minute I was gone outta you.”
✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and sgt-seabass
I just wanna see you bleed. Open you and set you free. (x)
pairing — bucky barnes x fem!reader
w/c — 9.7k
this is a dark fic. 18+ only.
listening to —♫disaster
part of the Vengeance AU
previous part - 𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅
warnings — bucky barnes is going through it, dark fic, the reader is having a hard time mentally (.... totally not self inserting heh), violence, slapping, spanking, use of a gun to threaten, non-consensual connotations and threats (nothing actually happens), mild mention of blood and injury, captivity, forced drugging via injection
a/n — sorry this took so long. depression is a bitch. thank you navy for putting up with my delays!
The thing about love is that it comes with risks. And the biggest risk of all is loss, for a heart that does not yearn for another never truly knows the meaning of catastrophic loss until grief visits them.
Love was still worth it to Bucky. Even with his wrenching heart and endless tears, the tenderness he shared with you was something that no one could steal or decimate. While the assailants had trashed your shared home, they could never take the memories - the feeling of your deft fingers brushing across his skin, the bright smiles you’d gift him, and the unwavering silent support that always held him upright.
Bucky was a man because you motivated him to be his best self. He was no longer a ghost, a nightmare, a mirage of misery - he was human.
You were gone. And there would be nothing stopping him from getting you back.
It had been three days since you’d been taken, and frustratingly, Bucky felt no closer to finding you than the day when he’d first found the ruins of the apartment. He’d moved back into the tower with Alpine, taking up refuge in his old compound apartment. It was kept the same, like he’d never left. And he felt the same as when he’d lived there last – lost.
The whole team had become involved in finding you. You were family to all of them. And no one gets away with fucking with the family of the Avengers.
Bucky sighed and impatiently tapped his foot against the floor as he waited in the meeting room with Steve, Natasha, and Sam. Tony had been working on a reconstruction of what happened in the apartment since the security cameras were somehow turned off before the assailant’s arrival.
It was a planned hit; that much was clear. But they needed the rest of the details of what happened to know what they were looking at.
The room was silent. What could anyone say that hadn’t already been said? Bucky’s friends had already assured him they’d get you back safely, but those were empty promises said just to stop him from throwing himself off the top of the compound.
Bucky stared at the blank white wall ahead of him while his mind spiralled. This was his fault. If you were dead, that blood was on his hands. He should have known of the threat – had some inkling that this was coming. But he was completely blind-sighted. There was no indication that there was an incoming attack.
“Move the table to the side so we have room,” Tony commanded as he entered, his usual quips missing – quips that always made you laugh and smile, brightening the room with your aura.
“Hello to you too, Tony,” Sam said, assisting Bucky and Steve in pushing the meeting room table to the side so there was some floor space for Tony’s visualisation tool.
“Do you think she’s alive? Could she have survived the attack?” Were the first words out of Bucky’s mouth, his voice strained from the amount of crying he’d been doing.
“Yeah, I think she’s alive. Are you sure you want to see this, Barnes? It’s… It’s pretty brutal, even for your standards,” Tony sniped, earning a stern look from Steve. Bucky didn’t care, though; it was a fair enough jab when he’d been the one to kill Tony’s parents.
“Real smooth, Tony,” Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms.
Bucky set the awkward air aside. They weren’t going to get anywhere otherwise. “I need to see it.”
“Maybe you should wait outside, Buck—” Steve started, but Bucky raised his hand to shut him up.
“Don’t coddle me. I need to see it.”
Steve just put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze while Tony set up his small projection device.
Nothing could have prepared Bucky for the image that greeted him. There you were, or at least, an apparition of you. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he held himself back. What he couldn’t stop were the tears that welled in his eyes. What if this was the last time he ever saw you? You already looked like a ghost in the odd blue hue of the technology.
Bucky gulped, his breaths coming out thick as you started moving from the bedroom to the shower. It played out like a macabre movie. Three assailants entered the apartment through the front door.
“They had keys?” Natasha asked, and Tony nodded in response.
Sam partially looked away when the assault began, Natasha and Steve’s faces hardening while Bucky had tears tracking down his cheeks. You fought hard, and Bucky couldn’t feel any prouder. You were his light – his fire, and you fought with every morsel of energy you had.
Tony was right – the ordeal was brutal and cruel. These men didn’t just kidnap you; they tormented you. This was personal.
“Any forensics?” Steve asked, his voice shaky.
“None. Whoever they are, they’re professionals,” Tony leant against the table. “And they clearly have a vendetta. Any enemies that stand out, Barnes?”
“Hydra is always top of the list.” Just the mention of the name had everyone in the room shuddering. Hydra had already done so much damage.
“Hydra fell when S.H.I.E.L.D did. They’re gone,” Sam reclined against the wall, hand rubbing nervously over his jaw, the same spot Rumlow had got a good hit on him during their fight at the Triskelion.
“You’re naive if you think that would get rid of them.” Natasha walked up to the projection, zooming in on the word you’d written on the ground. Blonde. “Although I don’t remember any of our known enemies being blonde.”
“Pierce was blonde.” Steve suggested.
Tony shook his head. “He was grey. And I highly doubt he’d be breaking into an apartment, seeing as he’s got a bullet-sized hole in his chest. Plus, he was an old fucker.”
Bucky forced himself to watch the whole recreation, eyes not straying for a moment as he searched for anything he was missing. It was a carefully executed but merciless attack. Tony was right; it seemed you’d survive physically, but what about your mind?
Bucky could hardly bear to think about what they were doing with you now they had you alone.
With you passed out on the floor, Bucky watched as the men bundled you up in a sheet to carry your bloody mess of a body out in. “There were no drag marks?”
Tony shrugged. “Nope. They carried her.”
“Did no neighbours report anything?”
“It was early morning, so most had already left for work, and anyone who did see something aren’t coming forward. People these days aren’t keen on being a snitch since that puts a target on their backs,” Sam delivered sadly. To a degree, Bucky understood, but at the same time, he wanted to question every person in the damn building.
Realistically, his efforts would be better placed searching through viable intelligence sources. The more reliable the information, the better. These guys would have had to make some noise somewhere, and Bucky intended to find where.
“I’ll ask Maria to get the analysts onto where they might have gone. They’ll check every car that was spotted in the area if they have to. And we’ll see what we can get off the surrounding cell towers. If we’re lucky, they pinged off one of them. They can’t have just disappeared with her,” Natasha’s voice turned clinical. It was easier to be strategic without the emotional strings attached.
Steve nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Check all private flights and airspace as well. I expect they’ve left the country and gone somewhere harder to track. The fact they went to this effort and didn’t kill her outright means they have a use for her, which means she’s still alive.”
“Until that use runs out,” Bucky cut Steve off, his jaw twinging with how hard he clenched his teeth. “Then they’ll kill her.”
“We’ll find her before then, Buck.”
“We have to. She’s taken my heart with her.”
You’d been lucky in your life that you’d been sheltered from physical pain. You’d known grief, sadness, all the usual trials of life. But this level of absolute anguish was new.
You were thankful you’d gone this long not knowing what it felt like to fear an impending death.
What even was death? An endless nothing? A light at the end of the tunnel? A world where you’re reunited with all those souls that had already left? Either way, it was the cessation of suffering. You can’t suffer when you don’t exist.
Days had passed since your capture, and a routine had set in. In your dank, mossy-smelling cell, you ate, stretched, slept, shit, and brushed your teeth - a macabre rinse and repeat that had your mind dulling. You prided yourself in being creative, so having no stimuli apart from grey walls and odd smells was a special kind of torture.
Your captors left you alone for the most part. You only saw them when they delivered meals and your toothbrush, and even then, sometimes, they’d just slide the items through a small hatch in the bottom of the door, expecting you to return the items promptly.
Damien or Maddox would often leave with some snide remark, while Kage never said anything.
The thought of fighting back had crossed your mind, although you couldn’t do much with them watching, the blinking red light of a camera in the corner of your room a constant reminder that you were not alone.
Bucky would be closing in by now, right? Each time you heard steps coming to your enclosure, a morsel of hope would flourish like a blooming flower. And each time, those beautiful flowers had their heads sliced off. The disappointment was clear on your face each time, and a small whine would escape, normally ending in you devolving into a pit of tears.
Crying was the only solace.
As the days had passed, you began to fear the opening of the door, because you expected death with his scythe and billowing black mist to be there waiting to cut off your head, like the way your hope had been deflowered.
Today was the same as all the others. Pain, tears, and acute loneliness all present. You sat on your cot with your legs to your chest, bandaged feet resting on the mattress so you could cry against your knees. Your wounds were healing slowly, bloody bandages changed by Kage each day, while your heart continued to break.
The wall vibrated subtly as music began playing upstairs, the reverberations traveling all the way down to your cell. You were underground, that much you had gathered. After your dinner, you would hear the music begin to play. You weren’t sure what they were doing up there, but you never heard any additional voices, so you assumed your captors were alone. Although, there could easily be a thick layer of concrete separating your roof from their floor, so you just might not be able to hear it.
All you did know was the music normally meant it was time to try and sleep. You had no sunlight, so you had to rely on the meals and music as your clock. You could have an opposite sleeping schedule for all you knew, but the men never said anything of it, so you assumed your intuition was right.
With a heavy sigh, you lay down, covered in an oversized t-shirt and cotton panties. It was cold, but with nothing more than a thin blanket, so you had no choice but to shiver and bear it.
The vibrations in the wall made a white noise that filled the room, and you preferred that over the silence. You couldn’t hear the music, so you liked to try to imagine what song it might be based on the tempo.
You smiled to yourself as you placed your hand against the wall. Whatever it was, you knew Bucky would hate it. Deep bass beats were never his style. While you liked to imagine your boyfriend as John Wick, fighting along to electronic music, you knew the reality was far more grim.
Thinking of Bucky, your eyes started to get heavy, and you slowly fell asleep.
It wasn’t a peaceful slumber, but it was rest - something you tried to get every chance you could. You didn’t know when you’d need your strength, so you tried to reserve it.
And as it turned out, a situation requiring your strength was around the corner much sooner than you had expected.
The door to your cell swung open, and the loud sound had you shooting up with a squeak and wide eyes, no remnants of sleep in your mind as adrenaline surged through your veins.
Nothing could have prepared you for the sight you’d be met with.
It was Damien who spoke first as they entered. “We caught ourselves a new pet. I have to say, this one seems much less fuckable than you.”
“Bucky,” you gasped, mostly in disbelief.
It wasn’t the rescue you’d dreamed of. Bucky hadn’t come in guns blazing and a smile of relief on his face.
No, Bucky was slumped, his metal shoulder being carried by Maddox and the other by Damien, while his legs dragged across the floor behind him and his arms were secured behind his back. He was dressed in his tactical gear like he’d come with the intention to save you. His face was bloodied and ashen, his hair sickly sticking to his forehead, and to your horror, there was a muzzle placed over the lower half of his face. You’d seen a picture of Bucky from when he was a soldier when you’d accidentally walked into a briefing room in the compound, his face scattered among others you didn’t recognise. But seeing him like that in the flesh was something else entirely.
You jumped up from the bed, ready to run to him, but Kage was by your side before you could act. He placed his hand on your collarbone, warning you to stay in place. “Your face is priceless.”
You couldn’t even feel the pain in your feet, as if the wounds were never there, as you whimpered at the sight of your lover.
“Bucky, are you alright? Bucky. Oh god.” You tried to move, but Kage’s hand gripped your forearm painfully, his digits digging in and leaving divots. Bucky tried to speak beneath the mask, but only muffled sounds came out. “No, please, don’t hurt him.”
“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Maddox grinned, the pride clear as day on his face. “The mutt put up a fight, I’ll give it that. But it failed. That must really suck for you.”
They spoke like he wasn’t even a man. Not even a dog. Just an annoyance - a hindrance.
Damien and Maddox dumped Bucky on his knees a few steps from you. And that’s when he finally looked up. It was like he hadn’t wanted to accept that was your voice he heard, but once he set eyes on you, that was it.
The dams broke, and both of you resolved into tears. “No, this isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening.” Damien kicked Bucky’s back, sending him lurching forward, his cheek painfully hitting the concrete floor. The pained sounds that came from your boyfriend would haunt you for the rest of your life.
“Stop it!” You yelled, Bucky’s whimpers too much for you to handle. He was trying so desperately to speak, to move, but they’d beaten him badly and secured his metal arm away with vibranium cuffs.
It didn’t stop him from trying though. Bucky rose to his feet, swinging his weight around so he could roundhouse kick towards Maddox and Damien. Maddox was faster though, pushing Damien out of the way and catching Bucky’s leg.
There was a sick crunch when Maddox tripped Bucky’s stable left leg, his body buckling to the floor while Maddox held his right leg, allowing the joint at his hip to fold into an odd position before Bucky hit the floor on his side. He withered with a pained groan, while Damien took the chance to kick him in the stomach. It was like watching the most morbid film play out in front of you, and all you wanted to do was hold Bucky and tell him it was going to be okay. But the thing was, you never lied to him. And you had no plan to start now.
You tried desperately to wrench yourself from Kage’s grip, but instead he yanked your back to his chest, placing his arm across your belly so you were held uncomfortably against him. “He failed you. Do you think he still thinks this is all worth it? Or do you think he should have just left you to rot?”
It was the most Kage had ever spoken to you, as if Bucky’s mere presence brought out a vitriol he kept hidden.
You shook your head, desperate to reject the baseless accusations. Even with his mouth covered, you could see in his expression alone the love Bucky held for you. You would never stop believing in him, even in death. “He hasn’t failed me,“ you gritted out, tears tracking down your cheeks. “He could never fail me.”
A sense of realisation took over you, the cogs turning as you looked upon your beaten lover. You’d wished for him to rescue you, to take you away from the pain and shield you from any further torment. But in doing so, you’d denied that Bucky was vulnerable - that he was the human you so dearly loved - made of flesh and blood and so dearly mortal. By placing him on the pedestal of a hero, you denied him his sensitivities, his feelings. You’d made him impuissant through your view of him as an impregnable force. You forgot that he is but a thing of atoms and material, so easily broken.
It was due to your expectations that he lay on the ground before you, bleeding and crying. Because he knew you were waiting for him. And here he was - just not in the way you had hoped. Now, hope was but a bird with broken wings, ready for death and the conclusion of existence. It was time for it to be put out of its acute misery. And it was time for you to mature and take responsibility for your future.
“The only person who can save me is myself. It’s my path to take, not his,” your words came out shuddered, your hand raising to cover your mouth to try and hide your sob. It did little to muffle the sound as your eyes met the familiar cerulean blues. “Bucky. It’s fine.”
Damien pulled the muzzle from his face, and Bucky allowed a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in hours. “You have me, just let her go.”
Maddox laughed, shaking his head as he ruffled Bucky’s hair. “Trying to be noble, huh?” His fingers looped in the sweat-drenched strands, roughly pulling Bucky’s head back as he whimpered. “Do we look like we’re going to let her go?”
“She’s innocent in this, please,” Bucky begged, blood trickling down from his hairline as he squirmed on the cold floor. It was a painful, pitiful sight. “Keep me, but let her go.”
“Why would we when we can have some fun? She’s so pretty when she cries. The perfect toy for us to play with,” Kage husked, the hand on your stomach starting to dip lower towards your dignity.
You slapped his hand, an action which gained you a violent response. Kage threw you to your knees, the impact causing your bones to quiver and your cries to fill the room. You had to be strong, you had to be strong - the mantra didn’t help much as Bucky snarled protectively. “You touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you. I swear I’ll–”
“You keep running that mouth of yours, and it’s her we’ll punish,” Maddox gripped Bucky’s chin between his fingers, before spitting in his face.
“Please, I’m begging you. She’s just a normal girl, she’s innocent–”
“She’s not going to be so innocent when she has our cocks shoved down her throat.” Damien approached you, eyes raking your barely covered form. You stunk after days of not bathing, but that seemed like the least of their concerns.
“I can see why you picked her. She’s so much fun to have around.” Maddox forced Bucky’s viewline to you, arching his head on an awkward angle with the fingers tangled in his locks.
“You don’t own her,” Bucky rasped. “No one does.”
Maddox hummed with a shake of his head. ”That’s where you’re wrong. We all have our masters. Now we’re hers.”
"I will fucking kill you," Bucky snarled, trying to get off the floor, trying so desperately to fight. But he was easily subdued by Maddox in his weakened state.
Damien turned to your boyfriend with a smirk. "Not before we fill up each of her holes. So why don't you sit back and enjoy the show? Be a good boy now. Wouldn't want to have to muzzle you… again."
"We're going to enjoy breaking her," Maddox teased, his face getting close to Bucky’s, a staring contest of will beginning between the two. A contest that Bucky quickly lost when Maddox punched him in the gut. ”While you have your own appeal, I don’t fuck mutts.”
It was hard to process the scene playing out in front of you - the taunting, the threats, the hurt. It was too much to bear. You just wanted to be in Bucky’s arms again and have him tell you it was all okay.
But no, you had to be strong. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore. I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want.”
Kage held you firm, his free hand reaching up from behind to grab your jaw painfully. He didn’t speak, but you could feel his hot huff of breath against your ear, the remnants of a growl in it.
“You’ll do whatever we want regardless,” Damien commented, searching your face and soaking up all the emotion he could find.
Maddox left Bucky battered on the ground, but not without one more kick, this time to the underside of his jaw. Bucky’s head snapped back, a crack sounding as his teeth slammed together in the forced movement.
You screamed, Kage and Damien’s hands beginning to roam across your body, feeling you like you were theirs. But it was like you couldn’t even see the three men anymore - just Bucky. Your vision had tunnelled to the focus on the one thing you cared about.
“Bucky! Are you alright? Bucky, please!” You couldn’t look away as his head lolled sickly, blood pouring from his mouth and nose.
The hands keep moving over you, nausea roiling in your gut with each passing moment. But you still only focussed on Bucky. “Bucky, please. Bucky. You’ve got to get out of here. Somehow. Just go, please.”
The cell door was cracked open. He could logically make a run for it. But you knew he wouldn’t, not in his current state, and not without you. Maybe Steve was on his way? But you knew Bucky wouldn’t look so crestfallen if help was coming.
“Please, Bucky.” You cried, not even sure what you were asking for at this point, all you could do was scream his name.
The more you yelled for him, the more you chanted his name like the only prayer you knew, the more the world began to warble.
Bucky’s form began to waver, as did the rest of the room. Maddox, Damien and Kage had frozen in their assault, their skin rippling as your breath suddenly fell short.
What was happening? You couldn’t scream for Bucky anymore - you couldn’t do anything, as if your mouth had been glued shut.
As your tears fell and sobs bubbled from your throat, the world dissolved.
The nightmare was ending, allowing leeway for the real horrors to become apparent.
You woke for real this time with a jolt, your sounds muffled by the tape over your lips. You were sobbing just like you had been in your dream, and as you took stock of the room you quickly realised Bucky wasn’t here. It had been a horrible nightmare.
What was real, was Maddox towering over you, a roll of tape discarded on the ground and his gun to your head. He looked the angriest you’d ever seen, salivating and almost frothing at the mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
The tears started falling faster as you screamed against the tape, but it did little to quell Maddox. He forced each end of the tape down, the gun in his hand coldly pressing against your cheek.
“Say his name again, I dare you. I'm not going to cut your tongue out. I'll fucking rip it out,” he growled, his words mouthed against your face and over your bound lips. His spit smeared over your skin, the heat of it warming where the metal of the gun had cooled.
All you could smell, see and hear was him. It was an overwhelming sensation that had you wanting to escape.
You writhed, but you couldn’t get away from him as he caged you in, kissing over your mouth again in a show of control, not endearment. He could take what he wanted from you whenever he wanted. You screamed and squirmed, but Maddox held you in place before ripping the tape off, allowing you to finally breathe in the musky basement air. “This fucking mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
“W-What did I—“ Your heart nearly broke through your ribcage with how hard it was beating as Maddox forced the barrel of his handgun into your mouth, the metal sitting against your tongue and leaving a horrible taste.
The struggle stopped, and you looked into Maddox’s eyes. The malice was pertifying. It wasn’t the same look he’d had during the assault in your apartment; no. It was worse. He was going to kill you.
His thumb moved in one swift motion to click the safety off, his finger resting on the trigger. “Say goodbye.”
You closed your eyes, fear clutching your heart and what felt like concrete in your lungs. You didn’t want Maddox’s face to be the last thing you saw, so you thought of when you and Bucky had adopted Alpine.
She had been found on the streets as a stray, only a year old with matted hair and a little injured paw. You’d both fallen in love with her, and nursed her into the ball of chaotic floof she was today. You thought of the moment where you first brought her home. She stayed in her carrier after the door had opened, too scared to venture out. So you and Bucky sat on the floor, cuddling and talking while Alpine slowly came out, before sitting next to you both. It was so peaceful. Such a small moment changed the trajectory of your life. It was those pockets of happiness you cherished the most.
You waited for the bang, the flash, the quick pain before the nothingness. But it didn’t come.
Instead, you heard rushed steps and yells before Maddox was hauled off you, the brunette slipping the safety back on as he let the other two pull him back.
“What the fuck?” Damien snapped, a commotion starting.
But it was like water was in your ears as you stared up at the ceiling from your bed, the chain secured around your ankle rattling with the way your body couldn’t stop shaking. Your arms covered your torso, and it took you what felt like forever to open your eyes.
“She was calling for him! For that bastard!” Maddox yelled, and it was then you turned your head to look at him.
“What, so you were going to kill her? Mads! Stop! We just got her!” Damien grabbed Maddox by the shoulders, shaking him like it would bring him to his senses.
"One simple fucking rule. Don't ask to go back to him. She was wailing like a fucking banshee."
Kage was the only controlled one, ushering Damien out of the way so he could take Maddox’s face into his hands. “You’re not back there. You’re not being compared to him, not being tested on. Stop. You’re here, and you almost just killed her.”
“She. Called. For. Him,” Maddox said through gritted teeth.
Damien glanced over at you, and it made you curl a little closer to the wall. "She didn't mean to, Mads. You know she didn't. Just breathe. Come on.”
It didn’t stop Maddox from spitting on the ground, his breaths coming out in adrenaline fueled shudders. “That piece of shit. I bet he bragged to her. I bet she fucking knows everything he did and is playing stupid.” With Kage holding him, his sightline turned to you. ”You’re pretending like you have no idea what he’s done, aren’t you? You dumb fucking bitch!”
“You know that’s not what’s happening,” Kage quickly reasoned with Maddox’s face still between his palms. It was clear there was a brother-like bond between the three of them. It would be nice, if the context of the situation didn’t exist. If anything, it made you more scared of them.
The fear had your body feeling frail, and it took you a few tries before you could sit up on your cot. “W-Whatever I did… I’m sorry. I don’t k-know what’s happening.”
Even you were caught off guard with the weakness in your voice, but the apology did nothing to appease Maddox. In fact, it incited the flame again. He broke free of Kage’s hold, and you didn’t have time to defend yourself before he smacked you hard across the face, the sound resonating like a sick echo in the cell.
The pain came a few seconds later, a sharp sting spreading across your face as you sobbed.
“You fucking bitch. You think this is funny, don’t you? Playing the innocent act just so you can fucking laugh at me once I’m gone.” He was trying to goad you into something you weren’t. You wore no mask, obscured no part of yourself. You were just you. And in a world where so many people lied and deceived, you could understand where the line of thought had come from. But Maddox couldn’t be more wrong about you.
What was it he had against Bucky anyway? There was clearly history you were missing, some big piece of the puzzle that had been hidden.
You didn’t get a chance to respond before Damien was tugging him back, taking the gun from him and pulling him away. “Mads, you’re triggered. That’s enough. You’re not yourself.”
For a moment, you could swear there were unshed tears in Maddox’s eyes, but didn’t get the chance to tell before Damien had pulled him from the room, leaving you alone with Kage.
There was a long silence for a moment, just your cries as your hand rested on your throbbing cheek, with Kage standing by in thought. He looked to you, his icy stare not helping you calm down. “I’m going to have to punish you.”
You could still hear Maddox yelling as you rubbed your cheek, and when Maddox’s voice finally faded you curled your knees up to your chest, your sobs shaking you. Maddox would have killed you if they hadn’t intervened, but now you were going to be punished. It was cruel. “What did I do?”
“You broke a rule. You called for him. Subconscious or not, every part of you has to learn the consequences.” Kage rolled up his sleeves, crossing his arms. It was clear his conviction was settled, and there would be no point bartering. “First, you’re going to shower. You’ve pissed yourself.”
Fresh tears filled your eyes when you looked down and realised Kage wasn’t lying. The sheets stuck uncomfortably to your legs and panties, the hem of your shirt soaked. You weren’t even sure when it happened, having been so caught up in the nightmare and then Maddox’s rage. Your fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, head hanging so you didn’t have to look at Kage.
Part of you wasn’t even sure if you were humiliated. They’d stripped you so bare you didn’t have much left, not even the dignity that would be hurt from something like this. More than anything, you cursed yourself for not being braver.
You had to hold your own if you were going to survive.
Words failed you when Kage took your arm to stand you up, and you didn’t say a word as he released your chains started to lead you from the room.
It was a slow walk as you hobbled on your injured feet, but it was clear Kage had no intention of carrying you as he walked a few steps ahead. He’d let go of his hold, so confident that you’d follow him that he didn’t even look back. You knew he’d overpower you without even breaking a sweat if you tried anything, and you didn’t have the energy to fight.
You were surprised to see the underground was more than just your room, with a small hallway connecting you to a large shower room. You assumed there must be more cells, because there were multiple shower heads and a few random lockers. Almost as if it was a prisoner gym shower. It was odd, and you cautiously stepped forward.
Kage just ushered you towards the shower, crossing his arms as he watched you limp onto the tiled surface. You went to take off your bandages, but he cleared his throat and shook his head. Flustered, you moved to your shirt and underwear instead, turning away from him as you stripped bare and dumped the soiled clothing on the floor.
You cautiously stepped forward to turn the shower on, shuddering when the cold water began pouring out. There was only one tap, and no indication that the water was getting warmer, so you turned back to your captor. “There’s no hot water?”
There was no response from Kage, just a stare that told you all you needed to know, as if he was silently saying ‘get on with it’.
You shivered as you stood under the cold stream. When the water washed over your face, it was like you were back in your apartment all over again, and you let out a panicked gasp before stepping back.
The way your body shook wasn’t only from the cold.
With a bated breath, you glanced back at Kage. But he was no closer. He wasn’t going to pull you out, going to attack you, it seemed. The danger still loomed, memories of your assault fresh in your mind.
You returned to the water, washing yourself off as you could feel Kage’s gaze burning into you, as if he was studying each of your movements. He finally moved when the water shut itself off, pointing to a grey towel that was the same dull colour as the rest of the basement.
The last remaining water droplets blinked from your vision as you stepped forward, taking the towel and beginning to dry off. You glanced around, frowning when you saw there were no fresh clothes.
“Uhm… clothes?” You asked hopefully, to which Kage shook his head. It wasn’t surprising, but it was upsetting.
As you ran the towel across your skin, you couldn’t rid of the nagging question that was plaguing your mind. “Why didn’t you just let him kill me?”
“He doesn’t need the guilt,” Kage finally spoke, but his answer only made your brows furrow.
“Why would he feel guilty for getting rid of someone who doesn’t matter?” It was conflicting information. They’d said you were nothing while in your apartment, and had treated you as such. But of course, you weren’t given an answer. Instead, Kage began leading you back to your room, your waterlogged bandages making it hard to walk. “What’s my punishment?”
Kage doesn’t answer, instead leaving you alone in your cell. “Strip the bed. I’ll be back.”
You gently rubbed your cheek where Maddox slapped you as you stared at the open door. You could run, but that would just worsen the situation. And you were in no condition to make it far.
Your gaze shifted to the blinking red light in the corner, staring into the black lens before snapping out of it and beginning to strip the bed as you were told. You kept replaying the events in your head, but it just didn’t make sense. You didn’t know why Maddox was so furious, and why Kage and Damien stopped him before he did any real damage. There was clearly something you were missing, but you were too fatigued to notice.
You used the sheets to soak up any remaining moisture from the mattress, which was covered with some sort of dark waterproof fabric. Unsure of what else to do, you placed the sheets by the bed.
With the sheets on the floor, you sat next to them on the cold concrete, waiting until Kage came back in with fresh bedding. He held it out to you, waiting for you to approach him with an air of impatience. You hoped your punishment was a simple as making the bed, but you knew you were in for worse at the hands of these men.
It didn’t take Kage commanding you to put the fresh sheets on the bed, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. He let out a hum when you finished, before taking a seat. “Come here.”
You let out a shaky breath before you approached him. There was something so ominous about the blue shine to his eyes, like a full moon bearing its magnetic energy onto you. You couldn’t help but feel pulled towards him, like your legs moved before you could even think. When you got close enough, Kage took your wrist into his grip. There was a beat of silence for a moment before he yanked you down. You yelped as you fell, your stomach hitting his thighs as he bent you over his knees. It was a humiliating position. As if they hadn’t caused you enough shame.
As naked as the day you were born, you lay across his legs, your ass raised, and shoulders slumped. There was no escape. You were under no illusion that there was no way you could reasonably get out without help. And without Bucky, or any of your friends, you were stuck.
You felt as if you hadn’t slept at all, and tiredness nipped at the back of your eyes as you resigned yourself in his lap. He seemed pleased, a near silent grunt sounding as he rubbed circles over the globes of your ass.
When the first slap landed, you yelped, a sharp pain on your ass from the impact of his palm.
“One.” You heard him count under his breath, before the second spank hit. “Two.” Tears gathered in your eyes, small droplets hitting the ground below as the third hit landed. “Three.”
“Why?” You croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”
“Four.” Kage uttered, another slap hitting you and causing your body to jolt. Four. The counting continued despite your pleas, the pain worsening with each hit. He wasn’t holding back, and the pain began to elevate to the point where you felt as if your bones may shatter. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
“Please, I don’t understand. I’m sorry- I’m s-sorry I said his name. But I didn’t do it on purpose,” your words are mottled with sobs, and you turned back to look at him despite the way you had coiled around his thighs. “I don’t understand. Why do you hate him?”
Kage’s icy glare met yours. In just a look alone he conveyed so much emotion, far more than words could ever express. There was anger and hurt all broiled up in a stew of self-pity. Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine. His spanks didn’t stop, not even when your cries resounded off the walls like a ghoulish orchestra, your begs garbled with the agony coursing through you.
“Thirty,” he coldly said, his hand once against slapping against your abused ass. When he brought up his hand for another hit, he stopped. On his palm was little dots of blood. You whimpered at the sight of it, and his eyes narrowed. He’d been hitting you so hard he’d broken skin with the impact.
“Please, why? What’s going on?” You lamented, growing weary of his silence. “Just tell me. Why do you hate him? What did he do?”
Kage hit you again, more aggressive this time. You howled in pain as he held you still. His breaths came out in a huff as he calmed himself down. “Don’t act dumb. You’re his girlfriend. You know what he’s done.”
“I don’t!” You rebutted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Kage’s steel blue eyes flashed with something dangerous, his hand rubbing circles on your skin and smearing your blood across your flesh. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” You were genuine, and Kage’s eyes narrowed as he considered you. “I’m sure you did some research before taking me. I’m just a girl.”
”What, your boyfriend didn’t brag of the lives he ruined? How he ruined our lives. We’re orphaned freaks because of him. Because the Asset couldn’t just do his fucking mission. But he had no problem doing his job just fine when he trained us, when he beat us to a bloody pulp making us wish were dead. Over and over and over again. Hydra’s fist hits fucking hard. And he leaves behind nothing but lost souls.” It’s the most you’ve heard Kage speak, but what he’s saying makes no sense to you. “The Asset doesn’t care about the wreckage he leaves behind as long as he’s happy – as long as he can continue on with his pathetic life.”
Bucky ruined lives? The surprise and confusion on your face said it all. From what you knew, he didn’t do anything. He was a prisoner of war, he was a soldier, but his involvement with Hydra was news to you. The most you’d heard of the organisation was from reports when the triskelion fell. It was broadcast everywhere. “He didn’t tell me anything. I only know who Hydra are from the news.”
Kage let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "Stop lying."
"I'm not! I swear. He never told me. He doesn't tell anything about his missions either. H-He said he couldn't. That it was safer that way." You remembered the first time Bucky came home from a mission. He was covered in soot and a mess. Being naive, you asked him what happened, and it was then you realised it was better for you not to know. The horrors of the world were not for your eyes… until now.
Kage’s fingers gripped into the plushness of your ass. ”But you’ve been to the compound.”
“As a guest - a friend. Never when a mission was happening.” You sobbed, your brain spinning in circles at the new revelations. “I’ve been there for dinner or parties. Nothing else.”
His nails made divots in your skin as he gripped you. "You really had no idea?"
"No, I didn't. And I'm sorry. For all of you," you hiccupped. You couldn't lie about that. Losing family is never easy. "I didn't know."
Kage didn’t seem convinced. ”But you know of Hydra?”
You shrugged best you could over his knee. “Sort of. N-Not really. I just saw the news when those big helicopter things crashed - uh, helicarriers?” You let out a shuddered sigh. “The news said Hydra was behind it.”
His fingers eased, moving to rub over the sensitised skin. ”Did you read the documents that were leaked?”
You shook your head, tears dropping to the floor. “No, why would I do that? I didn’t need an existential crisis. I get stressed enough about everyday news, like a mugger or a cat stuck in a tree.”
"So he kept you in a bubble," he said after a moment, more to himself than to you. "If you're lying—"
"I'm not," you promised, almost dissolving into more tears. "I swear to you. All of you. I have no reason to lie to you."
There was a beat of silence while your mind ran a million miles an hour. Bucky was a prisoner of war, you knew that – the world knew that. But… he was with Hydra? You pursed your lips. There was no way he would have been with them willingly. He was a prisoner of Hydra, you surmised. He’d made comments in the past about never being in control until now – always being ordered around by someone else. Admittedly, you hadn’t taken it as literal. A soldier takes orders, but this – this seems entirely different. There’s no way Bucky would hurt someone unprovoked, not unless he was being controlled. The man you loved was no villain.
Kage broke the silence. ”Do you resent him for not telling you?”
A heavy sigh left you, pain still flickering up your spine from your abused ass. “It’s his story. I’m not the one who can decide when it’s time to tell it.”
"But he's the reason you're here,” Kage said as his hand ran up your back before reaching your shoulders, pulling you up and guiding you to sit in his lap.
You whimpered at the pressure on your bruised skin as you sat on Kage’s thighs. "Better me than another innocent person."
Kage’s face was close to yours, his breath fanning across your skin. ”You wouldn’t trade places with someone else?”
You tried to move back, to get some distance, but Kage held you firm. “No. I couldn’t bring myself to subject someone else to this kind of pain.”
He seemed to be searching for something in your eyes. "You don't like others hurting, do you?"
The question surprised you. "No, I don't. I've always tried to help others if I can."
Your answer has the air in the room changing, some of the coldness turning a bit warmer as Kage brushed away some of your tears. Your blood was still on his hands, and you eyed the redness of his fingers as he touched your face.
A tremble coursed through you when you heard footsteps approaching, and your attention turned to the doorway, where Damien emerged with a salve, some wipes and fresh clothes.
His expression had changed too. Where there was anger was now a new understanding. They really thought you knew what they’d been through, you realised. You glanced between the two men, uncomfortable and distressed. Their anger was ruthless, but you feared whatever this was more. Kage’s hands over your waist were firm, but with an edge of gentleness.
You didn’t want them to like you.
Maybe you should have just lied and said you knew. But that wasn’t you. You weren’t deceptive.
Kage lifted you easily, placing you face down on your cot, your face wetting the fresh sheets below you as you cried. The overstimulation of your body and mind hit like a freight train, and you sobbed like never before.
“Jesus, try to calm down. You’ll make yourself sick,” Damien tried to placate as he sat next to you, wiping away your blood before beginning to apply some ointment to your battered skin. “You really did a number, Kage.”
You glance over at the blonde, and he didn’t seem proud of himself. Quite the opposite. His jaw clenched. “Shut up.”
“Hey hey, I’m just trying to break the tension here.” Damien kept applying the ointment until your welts were covered. “You took your punishment well.”
You think he’s trying to compliment you, so you respond with your head buried in the sheets. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he quickly responded before finishing up.
Your mournful cries didn’t stop, and they only got worse when Kage and Damien finally left, leaving you alone. You dressed yourself in the plain tshirt and panties, before it all became too much and returned to the bed.
All your bottled-up emotions spilled out into the mattress. You screamed, your sounds muffled by the bedding, not stopping until your throat hurt and your voice was course.
The more emotion you let out, the more fatigued you became. And slowly, you began to pass out, crying yourself to sleep. All you could hope was this sleep was more restful, and less eventful than the last.
Thankfully, you didn’t dream this time. Your rest was no more than a limbo between horrors – horrors which seemed very intent on continuing, with Maddox stood with his arms crossed, watching you slumber as he leaned against the open doorframe. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
You nearly jumped through the ceiling in fright at the sight of him, your whole body flinching as you sat up, your bruised ass instantly sore from the movement. “You didn’t.”
“Good.” He tilted his head, the anger he’d been sporting gone behind his normal demure expression. “So, I had a chat with the guys. Look, we thought you knew all about us. And now we realise you really are innocent in all this. We feel a bit bad about the whole situation, so we’re going to let you go home.”
It sounded like a foreign language as Maddox spoke, your heart skipping a beat. “You’re going to let me go?”
“Seems only fair. I think we’ve put you through enough,” Maddox shrugged nonchalantly.
“But you were so angry,” you cautiously observed Maddox. It felt like a trick, and it likely was one, but you couldn’t help the desire that smouldered in your heart. You could go home. More than anything you just desired to be comfortable in your own bed again, with your cat and the love of your life.
Maddox pushed himself off the doorframe and approached, the movement making you shuffle back on the mattress. He chuckled, shaking his head at your scurrying. “I have no intent of hurting you.”
“Surely you can’t blame me for being afraid,” you squeaked as he towered over you.
“Oh, not at all. I’ve given you more than enough reason. But here, truce?” Maddox offered his open palm for you to take, to help you stand. You stared at his hand for a moment, taking in the scarred skin. It looked like he held the sharp end of a knife more than once. They weren’t kidding about having been through pain.
Anxiety was a thick sludge in your throat as you placed your hand in his, allowing him to be a crutch for you as you got onto your feet. Your entire backside hurt like something fierce with each movement, but you tried to not show it too much on your face.
“Kage really let you have it, huh?” Maddox grinned, leading you out of the door and to the left, where Kage and Damien stood at the bottom of concrete stairs.
“Ready to go home?” Kage said as Damien took your free hand in his.
“Yes,” you blurted out honestly. “Are you… are you really going to let me go?”
“Of course. We may be assholes, but we’re not liars,” Damien chided, the warmth from his skin heating your hand.
“What about Bu– I mean, my boyfriend?” You questioned, making wobbly steps up the stairs towards what looked to be a basement door. Your suspicions were right - you were underground.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him. That’s our business to attend to,” Maddox grinned, but it was akin to a shark showing their teeth. There was danger in the way he spoke.
Distracted, you missed a step, but they were quick to catch you, all giving out a soft laugh before you made your way to the top of the stairs.
You had guessed that you were underground. What you hadn’t expected was that you were under a house. You emerged into an open-plan living room and kitchen with a rustic aesthetic.
“Do you like it?” Damien asked proudly. Clearly, he owned this place.
“... It’s nice.” You placated, taking your hand out of both Maddox and Damien’s grip. “I can.. just go?”
“Yes. Off you go. There’s a car outside waiting for you,” Damien said, and you could feel the soft rumble of a running engine through the floorboards.
You glanced back at the men, each of them looking expectantly at you. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before you turned around and bolted for the front door, despite your body hating every moment. Your feet were still healing, and with your bruised muscles, it was torture. But you wanted out. No, you needed out.
You reached the front door quickly, and when you turned the knob, your eyes went wide. It was locked tight. There were multiple bolts on the door, which all seemed unlocked, but when you looked down, you realised the front door had a finger scanner.
Reality began to set in when you placed your finger on the door and were met with a red flash and beeping. Access denied. “No... No, no, no. Not like this.”
You went to turn, but before you could, there was a sharp prick to your neck as one of the men plunged a needle into you. It became clear Maddox was your assailant as your legs went numb, and you tumbled to the ground with a gasp, seeing him standing behind you with dark eyes. Whatever the contents of the syringe were acted quickly, an odd floaty feeling spreading across your body as you lost control of your functions, your body stuck on its front on the cold hardwoods.
Their laughter became distorted as your brain fizzled, but you didn’t pass out. No, whatever they’d given you was keeping you awake, forced to watch as they circled your limp body. “She made it further than I thought she would with her injuries,” Damien smirked as he poked your side with his shoe.
“It’s cute in an utterly pathetic way.” Maddox used his boot to roll you onto your back before leaning down near your head. “Aw, is someone feeling a bit sleepy?” Unable to coil away, Maddox spit in your face with a cruel laugh. “C’mon, wake up, it’s playtime.”
Kage was next to torment you as you tried to roll yourself back onto your stomach to crawl away. His boot pressed painfully into your stomach, the steel tip digging in just below your ribcage. “Knock my foot away. Try it.”
You whined as you tried to use your arms to push him away, but you couldn’t. Your arms were like jelly.
“Mm, as fun as this is, we gotta move.” Maddox sighed as he straightened up, discarding the used needle out of your sightline.
You managed to get onto your stomach with Kage backing off, but all you could do was whimper as hands gripped your ankles, dragging you across the hardwoods and out the front door, your nose banging on the solid surface as you tried to dig your nails into the floor, but you had no strength left.
Your drool and blood from your now bleeding nose created a trail across the floor. At least if anyone found this home, there’d be evidence that you existed, your DNA staining the wood.
“Should we change her?” Damien asked, and from his voice, you could tell he was the one dragging you.
“She’ll be warm enough,” Maddox watched from the side as you were dragged to the porch stairs.
“God, she’s not going to piss in my car, is she?” Damien complained as Kage slung you over his shoulder, your body like a ragdoll, as he lifted you with scary ease.
“Just wrap a towel around her ass. It’ll do.” Maddox began putting bags in the back seat of the SUV parked outside.
Damien began to help him, but not without continuing to complain. “Just watch it. She already bled on my floor.”
Maddox laughed. “She bled all over her apartment and you didn’t even blink.”
“But that wasn’t my apartment,” Damien argued, a playful irritation in his tone.
They were having fun while tear droplets hit the gravel below you.
Maddox wasn’t giving up, though. ”You’re so materialistic sometimes, Dami.”
”When you pay for shit you can be too, Mads. Oh wait, you don’t pay for anything.”
”I’ve saved your ass enough times for payment.”
Kage sighed, his hand resting on your exposed ass. ”Would you two just shut up and help me get her in the car? I can do it myself, but then I’ll make sure blood and piss gets everywhere.”
Maddox sighed, too. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second. You leave the present in her cell?"
"Yeah. They'll find it."
You tried to speak, but only a groan came out.
"Try not to talk. It won't do you any good.” Kage said as Maddox helped him haul you into the trunk of the car.
”At first, we couldn’t get you to talk, and now you won’t shut up.” Maddox started to wrap a towel around your lower half. "Just put some music on and drown her out."
“You… lied…” You managed to get out amongst your drooling whimpers.
Kage leaned in, his hand caressing your cheek. “We didn’t. You are going home.”
“Just not to the home you hoped for,” Maddox chimed in, derisively patting your thigh. “Rest up, babydoll. There’s a long journey ahead of us yet.”
Kage and Maddox pulled back, and their faces were the last thing you saw before the boot was slammed shut, and you were covered in darkness.
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Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Female Reader
Summary: During a fun and relaxing afternoon, Bucky overhears someone making fun of your body. He doesn’t take too kindly to that.
Word Count: Over 2.9k
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, pet name (sweetheart for you, baby nicknamed Sprout), mention of stretch marks (they are beautiful), pregnant body shaming, threat of violence (not against reader), fluff, feels, domestic life, Steve and Sam are good friends, protective vibes, putting a jerk in his place (sorry if your name is Chet), Bucky Barnes (he's down bad and a warning, okay?).
A/N: What can I say, lovelies? I love a Bucky down bad and sticking up for you. Part of Soft Echoes, Strong Roots AU. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
It was meant to be a relaxing and fun afternoon.
Nothing major. Just a small gathering with a few familiar faces, some friends and agents, and good food. Maybe a few games, some music and conversations. Bucky only agreed because you batted your eyes and promised that you wouldn’t overdo it.
As if he could ever say “no” to you.
“You could smile a bit more, you know,” Steve teased, handing him a beer.
He scoffed, the bottle cool against his warm hand. “I am smiling,” he argued.
His general demeanor had improved since you came into his life. He liked to think he smiled more than he scowled most days. Well, at least he smiled more when you were around. Or when he thought of you, which was all the time.
So, yeah, his demeanor was much better.
“You only smile like that when you look at or think about your wife,” Steve pointed out, like he knew exactly what he was on his mind.
Bucky’s gaze softened immediately when he heard you laughing, watching you from where you stood a few feet away.
You were glowing.
A pregnancy glow, yes, combined with something warmer. The dress you picked somehow flowed while showing off the shape of your body perfectly. Your smile lit up your face and you had a hand on your belly like you’d done for weeks now without thinking. It was beautiful.
You were beautiful.
“Can you blame me for having a smile just for her?” Bucky asked.
“Not at all,” his best friend replied.
You shifted your weight before you took a seat, your smile brighter when you spotted Bucky watching you. He never strayed far from you. Didn’t even sip the drink in his hand. He had his eyes on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
You and Sprout.
Pride flickered through his chest when his gaze dropped to your belly. His wife and his baby. His family.
Everyone was waiting on you hand and foot. At least, they tried to. The moment someone tried to bring you a drink or food, he stepped in. He couldn’t help himself. Once you were taken care of, he went back to his spot. The perfect place to keep an eye on his surroundings since some old habits died hard.
And you just smiled, soft and bright.
Steve nudged him with his shoulder. “You deserve this, you know.”
Bucky swallowed hard. It didn’t always feel like he did. The past liked to seep into his mind at unexpected moments and make the world look a little darker. Depending on the day, he’d either hug you close or take you to bed to drown out the noise. Sometimes both.
And no matter what, you made the world look brighter again.
“So, you’re saying I deserved to knock up my wife?” he joked to deflect.
The blonde snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” he said, giving him a small smile. “Also saying you deserve this life.”
His chest tightened when you laughed at a joke Sam made, your head tipping back slightly and your hand going back to your belly. There was no fight to worry about. No past to haunt him. Just small precious moments like this.
His lips twitched upward when you found his gaze again, your love for him burning bright in your eyes.
He did deserve this kind of life.
“Thanks, punk,” he mumbled, clinking their bottles together.
“Jerk.”
You turned your attention back to Sam and Bucky pushed off the wall to move closer before a voice stopped him.
Something low and careless.
“Is that chair gonna break? Jesus Christ, she’s fucking huge. How many are in there?”
The thought of domesticity and peace left Bucky’s mind, replaced by something cold and dangerous.
You were blissfully unaware that some prick had just insulted your beautiful body, still smiling and enjoying yourself. As you should be. You only deserved good things. No one else around you seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere either.
But Steve stiffened out of the corner of his eye. He heard it. They both heard it.
Super soldier senses really were handy at times.
Ice took over the blue of his eyes, his head slowly turning to look at the fucker stupid enough to open his mouth and even breath the same oxygen as you. A new agent with a very punchable face who wore too much cologne. There was a good chance that you kept your distance for that very reason since some smells still overwhelmed you. The snickering prick certainly wasn’t a friend of his or yours. He was only “invited” because someone else thought it would be good for him to hang out outside of work.
That wouldn’t happen again.
“Better snag a brownie before she stuffs her face with the whole tray.”
My wife can have all the fucking brownies she wants, you fucking piece of shit.
The bottle in his hand began to crack. It would shatter if he kept squeezing. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
Not yet.
“You know that’s Barnes’s wife, right?” The asshole’s friend shifted uncomfortably. “She’s really nice, and he’s… well, he’s pretty protective of her.”
Bucky’s gaze flicked back to you, much softer, before looking at the soon-to-be-dead fucker again.
No. Can’t kill the guy. I have a wife and kid to think about.
The prick had the nerve to laugh. “So? Does that give her a pass to look like a whale?”
…He’s fucking dead.
Steve took the cracked bottle from his hand. “Want me to handle him?” he asked, his voice low.
He exhaled through his nose. Steve didn’t like bullies. Never had. But he knew why he was asking instead of just stepping in and taking care of it.
Because you were his wife. His to defend. His to love and care for.
This was his fight.
“I got this,” he replied, subtly nodding to where you were sitting. “Just keep an eye out for a minute?”
Steve nodded in understanding, positioning himself to block your line of sight without looking too obvious.
Bucky took deliberate steps toward the table, his movements controlled and measured. His jaw tightened the closer he got, his fingers itching to toss the guy out with his bare hands. He wouldn’t cause a scene out of respect for you.
But he wasn’t going to stay silent.
The atmosphere shifted the second he got to the table, the chatter ceasing immediately.
The prick, of course, had the nerve to smile.
“Hey, man! You-”
“You got something to say about my wife?” he asked, his voice as cold as his stare.
The man’s eyes widened, maybe from shock that he was overheard or that he was being confronted. “I… What?”
Had no problem using your words seconds ago, asshole.
“You were talking about her.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his eyes flat and unreadable. “My wife.”
The air shifted more, something cold settling over the surroundings as the guy sputtered to come up with an excuse.
“Say it again,” he ordered, placing his hands on the table and leaning down to his eye level. He made sure there was no warmth in his expression. “Where I can really hear you.”
The idiot swallowed and looked to his friend for help and found none; his friend was suddenly very interested in the beer in his hand. “Um… Barnes, I-”
“My wife, the love of my life, is carrying my child. Our child.” His lip raised in a small snarl and he leaned in enough that Agent Asshole had to back up. “And you think you can sit here and make fun of her? You think I won’t do something about it?”
“I-It was a bad joke,” he tried to reason.
Reasoning only worked with people when they were in a forgiving mood.
He wasn’t.
“Oh, now it’s a joke? You think you’re funny?” He smiled with no trace of friendliness behind it. It was likely how a wolf looked baring their teeth before sinking them into their prey. “You think I’ll laugh while you crack ‘jokes’ about my wife?”
The prick looked like he was a heartbeat away from pissing himself, which made Bucky question the hiring process for agents. This sort of “interrogation” was nothing. Child’s play.
Then again, how many agents could say they had the former Winter Soldier in their space?
“I-I really didn’t mean-”
“Don’t.” His voice dropped even lower. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
He glanced back and saw Sam looking his way, his eyes narrowing when he sensed the tension. Steve subtly shook his head. There was no reason to intervene. He was still in control.
Barely.
But you were still smiling, which was the important thing.
“You know what I see when I look at her?” he asked rhetorically, his chest tight. “I see the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
He smacked his hand on the table hard enough to make the bottles rattle and the guys flinch.
Sam, thankfully, chose to tell another joke at the same time and Steve cackled so the noise at the table wouldn’t draw your attention.
I really do have good friends.
“I’ll say it again. She’s carrying our baby. She’s uncomfortable and exhausted and guess what? She still walks into a room smiling and thinks of others first. And you sit here and act like she’s something to mock when she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His jaw clenched even as his heart swelled with pride. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
The guy shrank lower as every word washed over him.
Good.
Bucky stared at him for another long moment before something colder settled into place behind his eyes.
“Get up, Chet,” he ordered.
“Chet’s” mouth fell open. “That’s not my-”
“I know what your name is, and I don’t care,” he cut him off, straightening up. “Because you don’t respect my wife, so I refuse to respect you.”
A bright shade of red passed through his cheeks before he paled.
As someone who was stripped of his own agency for years, identity mattered to Bucky. Basic decency mattered. So, maybe it was a little petty to call him by the wrong name, but it was also a good way to put him in his place by letting him know he didn’t matter.
Chet, as his name was Chet to him now, got to his feet on shaky legs. “Sorry.”
“I’m sure you are sorry now, but it’s a little too late for that.”
Bucky clamped a hand on the back of his neck. To just about anyone looking over, it would’ve looked casual. Almost friendly. But they would’ve missed the firm squeeze.
“Move.”
The prick didn’t need to be told twice.
He guided him away from the table and made sure to smile as he did so. He shot his friend a quick glare for good measure, but at least he stuck up for you. That was the only reason he didn’t make him leave, too.
The chatter continued behind him, but he barely noticed it over the sound of Chet’s pounding heart and his own blood roaring loudly in his ears. But then he heard your laughter and he took a deep breath, picturing your loving smile and hand on your belly.
It kept him from snapping completely.
Once they were in the driveway, Bucky shoved him forward. Hard. He stumbled, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. He wished he could punch him for good measure, but he seemed like the type of coward who would cry and call the cops.
Even if they let him off with a warning, he didn’t want to add any stress to your plate.
“Christ, man,” Chet muttered.
“You stay the fuck out of my house and never come back,” Bucky said, his voice low and lethal as he stepped forward. “And don’t you ever disrespect my wife again.”
Chet nodded quickly. Too quickly. “I won’t.”
Bucky looked every bit like the Winter Soldier wrapped in civilian clothing when he added, “You’ll never speak about her like that again. You’ll never look at her like that again. And you sure as hell will never come near my family again.”
“I understand,” he swore, his voice cracking.
“Good.” Bucky’s nostrils flared as he looked him over one last time, disgust curling in his stomach. “And the next time you come across someone pregnant, maybe try showing them some goddamn respect.”
He looked down at his feet, avoiding his gaze and swallowing any excuse he had left to give.
Fucking coward.
Bucky pointed toward the street. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
The idiot practically ran to his car.
Bucky glared as he drove down the street, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck once he disappeared. He exhaled the remainder of his anger through his mouth, his hand moving through his hair. There was nothing to be upset about anymore. Agent Asshole was gone and now he could get back to you.
Where he belonged.
The second he walked back to the yard, his eyes found you automatically.
Still smiling, safe, and his.
He grabbed a couple of brownies from the tray before he walked over, giving Steve and Sam two nods. One to let them know everything was fine. The other to thank them for shielding you from that display.
They nodded in return.
You were his wife and family, but you were their family, too.
“There’s my handsome husband. I wondered where you went off to for a minute.” You smiled up at him when he approached, his heart skipping a beat. “You okay?”
Bucky stared at you in awe.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.
Up close, your glow was even brighter. You looked at him like he put the sun in the sky just for you. He would if he could. And your belly moved slightly under your hands, and he wanted to feel Sprout move, too.
“I should be asking you that,” he replied, his brows furrowing. “Are you okay? Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
He observed you carefully, looking for signs of discomfort or fatigue. The conversation with Chet and kicking him out didn’t take very long, but it felt like hours now being apart from you. Steve and Sam had been watching over you, but it wasn’t the same.
“I’m just fine,” you assured him, and he knew you weren’t just saying that for his benefit. “But you didn’t answer my question,” you added teasingly.
Always thinking of me.
“Yeah,” he murmured, gentler than he had spoken all day. “Everything’s fine now.”
You studied him for a moment, sensing something underneath the surface. He didn’t falter under your gaze. There was no need to.
“Everything’s fine now, which means it wasn’t fine before,” you guessed.
Bucky sighed. He should’ve known you’d feel that something was off. You were too intuitive for your own good. That was one of the things he loved about you. And part of him loving you was trying to protect you from harm, physically, mentally, or verbally.
But there was also no hiding from you, even when he did his best to shield you.
“Just… needed to throw some trash out,” he said carefully.
It was true.
Chet was trash.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Steve muttered into his drink, making Sam snort.
Before you could question him further, he set the brownies down and crouched slightly in front of your chair so he could rest a hand gently over your belly. He didn’t chastise Sam for snapping a photo, and he didn’t care who saw him like this. The two of you were his world and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
“Hey, Sprout,” he murmured, his entire expression softening. “You behaving for your mama?”
The baby kicked almost immediately beneath his palm.
He smiled wide, making him temporarily forget about the dickhead he just threw out.
“Sprout’s just fine, too,” you promised, placing your hand on his, your gaze thoughtful. “You sure you’re okay?”
He leaned up slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He remembered sitting on the couch and comforting you after the mean voice in your head made you doubt that you’d be a good mom. And how you didn’t think your stretch marks were pretty but he thought they were so beautiful. You were so strong and inspiring. His wife. The mother of his child.
He wasn’t about to ruin your fun and relaxing afternoon by telling you what happened.
But as much as he wanted to protect you, he would tell you later once everyone left because he refused to keep secrets from you. There was a good chance you’d cry. Not because of the cruel words spoken or hormones, but because he stuck up for you so fiercely. He would always stick up for his family.
And if you wanted him to punish Chet even more, he’d do it without question.
That was how much he loved you.
And he’d take you to bed later, kissing and touching every inch of you he could. He’d make you feel beautiful and cherished if any of your insecurities began to surface. He’d silence any mean voice in your head, hopefully for good, the same way you drowned out the horrors he experienced and made him feel loved.
I love you both so much.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered, glancing down at your stomach with so much love. “I’m better than okay.”
We all deserve to have someone in our corner. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Pairing: Taxi/Cab Driver!Bucky Barnes x Passenger!Female Reader
Summary: You’re Bucky’s favorite passenger. He knows your schedule by heart. The same day, time, and location. You’re kind. You talk to him like he’s more than just the man behind the wheel. You always tip well.
He can’t help but fall for you.
But he’s just a cab driver. You deserve better than that. Better than him. So, he keeps things professional… until you lean on him one fateful night when the world feels too heavy.
He doesn’t just want to drive you home anymore.
He wants to be someone you can come home to.
Word Count: Over 12.2k
Warnings: Pining, mutual pining, slow(ish) burn, a bit of idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst with comfort, slight jealousy, flirting, emotional breakdown, crying, insecurities, sick family member, Bucky Barnes (his POV and he's a warning, okay?)
A/N: @tavners suggested Bucky as a cab driver ages ago and the Barbie Dreamhouse helped bring him to life. Huge thanks to @miraclediviner for putting it together and for being patient and letting me submit this late and @stantastic-association for letting me participate. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The city sky was still light as Bucky pulled onto your street, a smile touching his lips briefly. Every week for the last three months he picked you up to take you to your brother’s apartment. Same time, same day without fail. He knew the route by heart. Could do it in his sleep.
Thursday had become his favorite day of the week thanks to you.
His favorite passenger.
Someone bright and soft during his long shifts and rough nights.
He came to a stop in front of your building, making sure he adjusted the heat so you wouldn’t be too cold. There was a blanket in the back just in case it wasn’t enough. He also changed the radio station to something he knew you’d enjoy but kept it low enough in case you wanted to talk.
He liked it when you talked to him.
“Do I look okay?” he asked himself, checking his hair in the mirror before he chuckled.
Bucky didn’t dress up a lot since he drove a cab for a living, but he tried to take a bit of pride in his appearance. Clean clothes and a subtle amount of cologne. Beard and hair kept neat, too, even with the bit of gray showing more in his chestnut strands these days.
He liked to think it gave him a refined look.
Something you might notice.
The steady hum of the engine grounded him as he looked at the door, his breath catching when you stepped outside. You paused on the top step, your gaze sweeping along the street as you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. Something warm bloomed in his chest when you spotted him and gave him that familiar soft wave and smile. He wanted to believe that smile was reserved just for him.
Get it together. You’re just her driver. Nothing more.
It didn’t stop him from hoping.
He straightened up when you made your way to the car and opened the door.
“Happy Friday Eve, Buck,” you said, sliding into the backseat.
The corner of his lips twitched at the familiar greeting. Not “driver” or “sir” or anything like that. Just Buck. Steve was the only other person who called him that.
It sounded right coming from you.
“You mean Friday Junior,” he teased, trying hard not to make a show of breathing in your scent.
There were plenty of passengers who practically bathed themselves in colognes and perfumes. It was enough to choke on before he aired out the cab. But not you. You always smelled so nice. So sweet.
Jesus fucking Christ. Get a grip.
“Same thing,” you teased back, slipping your shoes off and tucking your legs beneath you.
The first time you asked if it was okay for you to take your shoes off, he almost laughed. It surprised him more than anything that you cared enough to ask. Like you cared about his space and him. He didn’t mind as long as you were comfortable.
He always wanted you to feel comfortable and safe in his presence.
“We made it through another day,” you sighed.
“And your prize for making it through another day is spending time with me,” he joked.
You laughed, a soft sound like music to his ears. “Lucky me,” you said without a hint of sarcasm.
He cleared his throat, his heart skipping a beat. “Blanket back there and the heat’s on.”
“Thanks,” you said, adding above a whisper, “You’re so good to me.”
Bucky opened his mouth and closed it. “Just doing my job,” he said, the words bittersweet on his tongue.
“Well, I appreciate it.” You hummed a little as you dug through your bag. “And… I got something for you.”
He already knew what it was.
“Protein bar?”
“Protein bar,” you confirmed.
He made an offhand comment in the beginning about his favorite brand.
You surprised him by giving one the following week, and you have brought him one every week since then.
Part of him wanted to save the wrappers, but Sam shut that down by saying it was serial killer behavior.
Your fingers brushed his when he reached back to grab, a jolt running through his body and settling deep in his chest. “I think you’re too good to me,” he said.
It was a thoughtful thing for you to do.
“Just being a good passenger,” you said casually, but he caught the hint of affection there.
Something soft… and real.
Bucky glanced at you in the mirror, his gaze lingering longer than it should’ve when you covered yourself with the blanket and settled into the leather with a sigh. His chest puffed out a little, a sense of pride filling him since you used the blanket. He picked the softest and warmest one he had.
You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there.
“Heading to your brother’s place, or you gonna switch it up on me?”
“Same trip as always,” you replied.
Of course.
A visit to your older brother’s place on the other side of the city. Dinner. Helping your sister-in-law with some chores. Spending quality time with your niece and nephew.
Every Thursday.
He knew about your routine more than he probably should, but he couldn’t help but pay attention. It was nice knowing that you had family close by. Nice that you got to spend time with them.
Some nights though, you looked a little worn down by the time he brought you home.
He carefully pulled away from the curb and glanced in the mirror again, catching your eye. “How was your day?”
Bucky was polite to his passengers, but didn’t typically initiate small talk. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the people he transported. He did. But his job was to get people where they needed to go, not force them into conversations to fill the silence. If he sensed that they wanted to talk, he’d engage. Most were glued to their phones anyway. But not you.
Never you.
You groaned, your head falling back against the seat. “Work was a pain today. Short-staffed. Didn’t really get a full break. You know how that goes.”
He hummed sympathetically. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Don’t be. Not your fault,” you said with a small shrug. “On the plus side, we’re close to the weekend, and I can relax once I get home.”
“Glad you can still see the bright side,” he said.
It wasn’t always easy to do that.
“I try.” You lifted your head with a soft smile. “How are you?”
He swallowed hard. It was nice to have someone outside of his normal circle ask him sincerely how he was doing. “Not too bad. Some guy tried to correct my driving.”
You sat up straighter. “Are you kidding me? You’re the best driver in the city.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest from how fiercely you defended him. You stated it like it was a fact. He wasn’t one to brag, but he was an excellent driver.
“I want his name,” you added, narrowing your eyes. “I’ll handle him.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’ll handle him, huh?” he asked, turning his blinker on.
“Oh, yeah,” you answered, his heart racing faster.
“I appreciate that,” he said above a whisper.
You really were something.
“And if I can’t, Alpine can scratch him up for me,” you mused lightly.
A wide smile broke out on his face. “Al’d make sure he never messed with anyone ever again.”
Alpine, his beautiful white cat. He found her in an alley when she was just a kitten, trying to stay warm on a chilly day. One look in her blue eyes and he knew he couldn’t leave her there.
“My place isn’t much,” he warned her when he crouched down. “But it’s warm and I have milk.”
She curled right in his arms and tried to burrow her face in his leather jacket.
She became his partner-in-crime from that day forward.
The feline flourished in his apartment, making herself right at home and sticking by his side whenever he was around. He admittedly spoiled her with toys and such, but she deserved it. She was also protective of him, quick to hiss at anyone who got too close, and could imitate his grumpy stare well. He knew she’d adore you.
He certainly talked about you enough to her.
He talked about you with his younger sister, too.
“Becca messaged me a bit ago, too,” he said, smiling a little. “You know how she likes to check in and make sure I’m not living off just protein bars and stubbornness.”
Becca didn’t live as close as your brother did, but he visited when he could. She visited, too, between work and her new boyfriend. She seemed happy, and that made him happy.
“And here I am giving you protein bars. I hope she doesn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he promised. “She knows one extra bar a week won’t hurt.”
You smiled softly. “She cares a lot about you, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah,” he said warmly. “She does.”
And she liked that he had someone like you who cared, even when he tried to argue that you were just being nice.
“She isn’t just being nice, big brother. She cares.”
He liked to think so.
“Hey!” you said suddenly, leaning forward in your seat. “You know what I just realized?”
“What?”
“This is the thirteenth Thursday that you’ve driven me around.”
“Is that right?” he asked softly, knowing full well exactly how many Thursdays he had seen you.
Because he had been counting.
“That is right.” You settled back into your seat with a smile. “Feels like ages… and not long at all.”
It seemed like only yesterday to him.
He remembered the exact shade of blue you wore on the first ride, something pleasant against the harsh city lights. How you shivered when you slid into the car, and the smile you gave him when he turned the heat on. You were so beautiful. And kind.
The kindest passenger he had that day.
“Thanks for getting me here safely, Bucky! Happy Friday Eve!”
“Friday Junior,” he’d called after you like an idiot.
“Same thing!”
He was a goner.
Every week his crush grew stronger.
But every week he told himself he was just your cab driver and nothing more.
“Thirteen Thursdays,” he said. “That why you look so nice today?”
Your gaze flickered to your lap, smiling. “You think I look nice?” you asked gently.
His heart hammered in his chest. “Yeah. You always do,” he said honestly, willing himself to concentrate on the road.
Don’t make it weird. Don’t make her uncomfortable.
“Thanks, Buck,” you whispered.
He should’ve left it at that, but he didn’t.
“You sure I’m taking you to your brother’s and not some date?” he blurted out.
The air thickened in the cab, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Something uncomfortable twisted in his gut. He paid enough attention to know that there wasn’t a ring on your finger, and you hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend.
Not once.
But what if there was someone? What if one day you dressed up for someone else? What if you gave some other man that soft smile you always gave him?
His jaw clenched and he was thankful you couldn’t see his expression.
I have no reason to be jealous. She isn’t my girl. She can see whoever she wants.
I just wish it was me.
“A date?” Your laughter made its way to his ears. “Please. I’m very single.”
For a moment, all Bucky could hear was the sound of his heart slowing to a steady rhythm, effectively blocking out the moving vehicles around him. His next breath was easier, his grip loosening. It shouldn’t have been such a relief to hear that, but it was.
Single. Good. That’s good. Stay single. Stay away from bad guys. Stay… here. With me.
…I’m in deep.
“Haven’t dated in months,” you added.
That made him pause.
“Months?” he repeated. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, it’s true,” you said, quieter than before and gazing out the window. “Guess I haven’t caught anyone’s eye.”
Your words wiped out his relief. You didn’t have to say out loud that you were lonely. He sensed it. Recognized it.
It just didn’t make sense to him that you were alone. You were a catch. How were guys not lining up down the block to ask you out?
Your words also weren’t true. Because he was there and he saw you. Wanted you.
“Or… maybe you have,” he said carefully. “And they just haven’t said anything yet.”
A beat passed. “Maybe,” you said.
He tapped the wheel when he stopped at a red light.
Say it. Tell her. Tell her that she caught my eye. Tell her that she’s…
He sighed to himself, the cab feeling smaller than usual. He wanted to admit how he felt, but he couldn’t like this. It wasn’t right when he was in the driver’s seat and you were back there.
“And what about you?” you asked, turning away from the window. “You seeing anyone?”
He huffed out a laugh. “No.”
Women weren’t exactly fighting to date a cab driver.
“My ‘date’ nights are me, a book or a movie, and Al,” he told you. “That or kicking the guys out of my place once the pizza and beer are gone.”
You smiled. “Those sound like good nights to me.”
“They’re not bad,” he said casually.
As if the idea of a date night with you wasn’t painting a picture in his mind.
“You know,” you said, snuggling into the blanket more. “If you ever need anyone to critique your book or movie choices, I’m available.”
He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to trip over itself, but it did. “Yeah?” he asked, keeping his voice even.
“Yeah,” you said casually, but your eyes flicked to the mirror. “I mean, I’m sure you have great taste, but it doesn’t hurt to get my own confirmation.”
Bucky swallowed hard. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You smiled. “You better.”
The cab fell into a comfortable silence after that, but something shifted. You had given him an opening that would’ve been easy to take. But maybe you were just being nice. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.
Or it might mean everything.
He eased the car to a stop at your brother’s building minutes later. “Here we are.”
You slipped your shoes on and folded the blanket as best as you could. “Thanks,” you said, holding out the cash for him.
He reached back automatically to grab it, feeling that spark again when your fingers touched. He didn’t need to count it to know it was all there, along with a nice tip. You were generous.
Always.
“Anytime.”
You lingered when you opened the door. “Hey, Buck?”
“Yeah?”
“You look nice today, too,” you said.
It was a simple compliment, but it hit him square in the chest.
“Yeah?” he managed to ask.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling softly. “You always do.”
It was an echo of his own words to you.
Before he could respond, you slipped out and tapped the roof twice. “See you later. Drive safe.”
“See ya,” he whispered.
He didn’t leave right away. He watched as you made your way inside safely, his hand still clutching the cash. Glancing at the protein bar on the seat beside him, he exhaled.
You said he looked nice. Offered to watch a movie with him. Kind of.
But he was just your driver.
Nothing more.
“I’m in trouble,” he muttered.
By the time Bucky pulled back up to your brother’s building later that night, things felt quieter. But his mind didn’t. It was too busy racing with thoughts of you and wondering how long he could keep his line drawn in the sand.
You waved to him when you stepped outside, your steps a little slower. Your smile wasn’t as bright as earlier, but it was still soft and easy. It made sense. Family time after a long work day was tiring, even if it was nice.
“Hey,” he said once you got in.
“Hey,” you echoed, settling in.
“Good night?” he asked, easing back into the road.
“It was,” you replied, laughing a little. “But those kids wear me out.”
He smiled to himself. No way they didn’t adore spending time with you. “Sounds about right.”
“Did you have a good night?”
It was the best night because he got to see you again.
“Not too bad,” he answered.
You checked something on your phone and put it away. “Random, but I have a few extra dollars in my account, so I may do takeout for dinner tomorrow as an end of the week treat for myself.”
You could have takeout with me.
“Get those noodles from the place you like on 5th,” he suggested instead. “The number seven, right?”
Why did I say that?
“That’s right.” You giggled. “Am I that predictable?”
He almost said, “I notice everything about you.”
“You’re not predictable,” he replied instead, easing his foot off the gas. “I just… pay attention.”
Because you’re… you.
It was quiet for the rest of the ride.
He glanced back a few times and saw that your eyes were heavy. He hoped you were able to relax more when you got back to your place. You deserved the rest.
A pang of disappointment hit him when he got to your place, the drive seeming quicker than normal. “Here we are.”
You stifled a yawn. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” You sat up, seemingly more awake now. “I have something for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You already gave me a protein bar.”
“Well, this isn’t from me,” you said, handing him a folded piece of construction paper along with the cash. “It’s from my niece and nephew.”
He opened it carefully, his heart melting on the spot.
A drawing of a car stretched across the sheet. It was lopsided with uneven wheels and windows that were too big. There were two stick figures inside. One in the back with a large smile that was clearly you. And one in the front with brown hair, blue eyes, and a small smile.
It was him.
There was a message in crooked letters above the car, surrounded by glitter glue.
BUCKY DRIVING AUNTIE! YAY!
His throat tightened unexpectedly. “That’s us?” he asked with a hint of disbelief.
You mentioned him to your family?
“That’s us,” you said affectionately, making him wonder if that was for him or your niece and nephew. “They wanted to thank you for always getting me there and back every week.”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “You… talk about me?”
“Of course, I do,” you said like it was obvious. “You’re part of my week.”
He folded it back up like it was something fragile, your words slowly sinking in.
You talked about him. Your family knew he existed. Your niece and nephew had never met him, but still made him a card like he mattered.
His heart felt full.
And he didn’t know what to do with that feeling.
“Tell ‘em I said thanks,” he said quietly. “Really.”
“I will,” you promised, hesitating when you reached for the door handle.
You waited long enough for him to look at you over his shoulder. Long enough that his heart thudded. Hope flickered deep within.
She feels something, right? It can’t just be me.
Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, but your eyes were soft. “I…” Your gaze flickered down before looking back at him, sighing a little. “I’ll see you next week, Buck.”
He exhaled, trying not to let disappointment show. Something passed between you. He felt it. It was real.
Or… maybe he just imagined it.
“Yeah,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Next week.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” he repeated. “And thanks again for the card and tip.”
You smiled softly before you got out.
He leaned against his seat and once again stayed to make sure you got inside safely. You didn’t rush inside when you got to the door. You paused instead and glanced over your shoulder at the door, like you were waiting for him. It was an opening. Maybe.
But he didn’t take it.
He kept that line drawn.
You waved before you went inside, and he closed his eyes, the quiet surrounding him once again.
His fingers brushed the construction paper in his lap.
Steve and Sam would flip when he told them about it. Hell, they already did whenever he talked about you. He could practically hear them now once he gave them the recap of tonight’s events.
Sam shaking his head and saying, “She gives you protein bars, offers to watch movies with you, her family knows about you, her niece and nephew made you a card, and you didn’t ask for her number?”
Steve, a little quieter but no less insistent, with, “Buck… you’re allowed to want something.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched. They acted like it was simple, like he could just ask and it wouldn’t change a thing. It would change everything.
He didn’t want to risk losing you or holding you back when he didn’t have you to begin with.
For now, he’d continue driving you where you needed to go and leave it at that.
Coward. Life’s too short.
He set the card aside and took one last look at your building.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m in big trouble.”
Bucky arrived a couple of minutes early the following Thursday.
He told himself it was habit. Being mindful of traffic. Not because he was eagerly waiting for you.
Not at all.
And you also weren’t the reason he spent ten extra minutes picking out a shirt.
Just because she said I look nice…
He made a mistake of checking the group chat he had with Steve and Sam while he waited.
Sam: “Be a man and get her number.”
He gritted his teeth, quickly typing. He almost regretted confiding in them about you. It would’ve been easier to keep his mouth shut.
“Fuck off, Samuel. I am a man.”
The dots appeared with both of his friends writing something back.
Sam: “OOH. Samuel. My full name. Hit a sore spot, huh?”
Maybe he did.
Stevie: “Just go at your pace, jerk. We got your back.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
“Thanks, punk.”
He put his phone away and smiled just a little. They were good guys. Had been with him through thick and thin. Brothers.
Sam definitely acted like an annoying brother in the most supportive way.
And as much as he adored Becca, he didn’t want to bother his little sister with his lack-of-relationship woes. She had enough on her plate. He’d be just fine.
Eventually.
His attention snapped in your direction when you left your building and everything else faded away.
There you were again.
The same familiar sweep of your eyes along the street before you found him. The soft smile. The small wave. How you always looked incredible no matter if you dressed up or down.
Like tonight, you had on the same soft sweater you wore last month. It reminded him of comfort. It also made you look gentle in a way that made him want to take care of you.
The instinct hit him harder than before.
Yeah. I’m royally fucked.
He straightened up as you walked closer, his brows furrowing. You were still smiling at him, but your steps didn’t look as light as normal. There was tension in your shoulders.
“Happy Friday Eve, Buck,” you said, unfolding the blanket with extra care.
There was a touch of weariness in your tone under the warmth.
It would’ve been easy to miss if he wasn’t paying attention.
“You mean Friday Junior,” he said automatically.
“Same thing,” you murmured.
“Your brother’s place?” he asked gently.
“Same trip as always,” you replied just as gently.
He looked at you in the mirror after pulling away from the curb. You were already gazing out the window, relaxed but not completely. His chest tightened when he spotted the slightest frown on your face.
It didn’t belong there.
Is she okay? Was work extra rough?
He waited a couple of blocks before he asked, “Long day?”
Bucky didn’t want to push if you didn’t want to talk, but he did want to make sure you were okay. If something upset you, he wanted to fix it. If someone upset you, he wanted to handle it.
Let me help however I can.
“Yeah,” you replied after a second. “Long week, actually.”
“Those are the worst.” He tapped a finger on the wheel. “Becca always tells me to take a breath and not let the week eat me alive.”
“That’s good advice.” Something soft and a little sad flickered in your eyes. He didn’t know if his words triggered a memory, but it felt important. “Especially coming from a sibling.”
“It is,” he replied. “Siblings just get it some days.”
You hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything else.
He bit his tongue. It was times like this when he wished he wasn’t driving. He wanted to turn around and give you his attention. You deserved it.
“Would it make you feel any better if I said you look nice today?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
That brought a smile to your face. “It does make me feel better,” you said, your tone almost back to normal. “Thank you.”
He smiled back gently, the sound of the engine and low music filling the space for a moment. It didn’t fix your long week, but he was glad the compliment helped. He’d consider that a win.
“You look nice, too.” You craned your head to look at him. “I really like that color on you.”
His pulse jumped. The usual ease was coming back, the cab lighter. And you noticed his shirt.
I chose well.
“Oh, this old thing?” he teased, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Really brings out my eyes.”
You giggled. “It sure does.”
He stole another glance at you when you looked out the window again. You were tired, but you were okay. Still warm. Still you.
He felt like he could breathe again.
“Hey,” he said after another block, reaching into the console. “I, uh… made you a list.”
“A list?” Your eyebrows went up. “What kind of list?”
“Movies. Some I like. Some I think you’d like,” he clarified, passing it back to you before he could change his mind. “You did offer to critique them.”
“And you’re taking me up on it?” You gasped, putting a hand to your chest. “I’m both shocked and flattered.”
“You should be,” he deadpanned before grinning.
You smiled, a little tired but genuine. “The first title has a star next to it.”
“Because it’s my favorite and a good one to start with.”
“Did you get Steve and Sam’s seal of approval?”
He scoffed. “They’d like it. Enough oldies for Steve, and Sam has somewhat decent taste in recent stuff… but he’ll never know I said that.” He coughed into his hand and added, “They’ve heard about you.”
You smiled. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, I talk about more than I probably should.” He shrugged, but his left foot lightly tapped. “You’re a good passenger.”
And I’m just your driver.
Your smile faltered, just for a second, before you smoothed it over with a laugh. “And you’re a good driver.” You scanned the small piece of paper once more. “You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”
Warmth rushed to his cheeks. “You should see the book list I’m making for you,” he muttered.
He valued your opinion, and the lists were a way for you to think of him between rides. A way to keep you two connected. Maybe it was selfish that he wanted you to have him on your mind.
But maybe it wasn’t.
“You’re making me a book list, too? Oh, I can’t wait for that.” You folded it neatly and put it in your bag. “I’ll watch the first movie tomorrow night.”
Another Friday night with no date? I wish I could man up and change that.
“I expect a full report next week,” he teased.
“You got it, Sarge,” you teased back.
His breath caught. “Sarge?” he repeated. “You remember my military ranking?”
Sergeant Barnes.
It was mentioned only once, just like the protein bars. A passing comment and nothing more. But you listened.
You remembered.
“Of course, I do.”
The same thing you said about mentioning him to your family.
He blinked rapidly, trying to steady the emotions stirring inside him as he drove. You continued to surprise him with your soft words and smiles, making him feel special in your eyes. You undid him in ways nothing or no one else could.
“Here we are,” he said minutes later.
“Thanks, Buck.” You gathered your things before you stopped, your inhale sharp. “Oh… you kept it.”
He followed your gaze to the dashboard. Your niece and nephew’s card was proudly on display. It was a beautiful reminder of you.
“Of course, I did,” he said, trying to play it cool. “It’s a nice drawing.”
“That’s really sweet, Buck.”
He shrugged a little, but heat crept up his neck. “It deserved a front and center spot.”
Your gaze softened more. “They’ll think you’re the coolest guy ever when I tell them.”
They made him feel cool by giving him the card.
“Guess I’ll have to try to live up to that.”
“You already are,” you said without missing a beat, passing him a protein bar with the cash.
His heart pounded in his chest. Another thoughtful gesture. More words that made him feel good.
Say something. Do something.
But he didn’t.
There was a small pause before you sighed and got out, the door gently closing behind you. Tap. Tap. The familiar rhythm against the roof should’ve felt normal and comforting.
But why did it feel like you were disappointed?
“See you later,” you said. “Drive safe.”
“See ya,” he exhaled.
He watched until you went inside, half tempted to hit the dashboard since he chickened out. He held himself back. There was no sense in taking his frustration out on the car. He could hit a punching bag later.
Maybe he could knock some sense into himself, too, and man up.
“Should’ve said something,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Some of the frustration at himself faded when he looked at the card. He imagined your niece and nephew were the kind of kids who loved when the garbage men came by every week or drivers dropped off packages. They’d probably have a blast riding around in his cab, cheering him on for driving you around. If Becca ever had kids, they’d likely be the same way.
He wondered, briefly, if you’d ever meet her, and the thought didn’t scare him the way it should.
But what would your brother think of me? Would he think I’m good enough?
At the end of the day, didn’t it matter only what you thought and saw in him?
His phone buzzed.
Sam: “Well??? We’re waiting.”
Bucky stared at the message before typing back. “Dropped her off. Didn’t ask.”
Three dots appeared immediately. He didn’t want to look. Didn’t need the additional salt on the open wound of his self-doubt.
But he looked since he was a glutton for punishment.
Sam: “Man, if we can even call you that, you're killing me! I’m gonna lose the bet.”
Bet? What fucking bet?
Stevie: “There’s no bet. You’ll do it when it’s right.”
Sam: “Don’t make me get Becca and Sarah involved. I’ll do it.”
He tucked his phone away and shook his head. Tough and gentle love. He needed both.
And he needed just a little more time to convince himself to erase the line he had drawn.
The next passenger he picked up, a man complaining about the state of the economy, didn’t shift his focus fully away from you. The restaurant he dropped him at seemed like a nice one to take you to, something quiet and romantic. A couple of women he drove after that mentioned an acoustic concert in the park, which made him picture you leaning your head on his shoulder while listening to music together. Every passenger was like that, managing to tie something back to you.
He still got everyone where they needed to go safely since that was the job.
He just couldn’t stop thinking about you.
By the time he arrived to pick you up again, the city lights had taken over the streets. He spotted you immediately, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm. You looked about the same as when you went in. A little more tired, but okay.
And you still gave him a smile when you got in.
Smiling like she’s happy to see me.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied, double checking the heat. “Kids wear you out again?”
“You know it. They had so much energy tonight, and I almost stepped on a lego when I was chasing them around.”
“Occupational hazard of being a great aunt.”
“You know it.” You laughed a little. “They were also thrilled that you have their card up.”
That warmed his heart. “So, they think I’m cool?”
“The coolest.”
He smiled at the sincerity. He believed that they believed that. It was a feeling he needed to lean into more.
“Did you have a good night?”
“Yep. Just driving. Getting everyone where they need to go,” he answered.
And thinking of you. Always thinking about you.
He turned the radio up a notch after that instead of trying to fill the silence, letting you relax. For a moment, he pictured swaying with you. Minus the quick brush of your fingers, he hadn’t touched you in any way.
To hold you would be a gift.
“Hey, Buck?” you asked once he pulled up to your place.
“Yeah?”
You bit your lip. “I wanted to give you something.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his chest tightening in anticipation as you reached into your bag.
You hesitated before you nodded. “Yeah.”
Your hand shook a little when you passed him a small slip of paper with the cash. He unfolded it, blinking hard to make sure he was reading it correctly. He turned it over, too.
It was your handwriting. Your name. Your number.
You gave him your phone number.
His heart forgot how to beat before it thundered. He imagined this scenario for weeks, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the reality of it. He didn’t think the universe would be that kind to him.
“I just figured, this way you don’t have to wait until next week for my report on the movie. You could just text me and see what I think,” you explained, trying to play it off casually. “Or if you ever want to send me pictures of Alpine. Or you’re just… bored.”
His pulse roared in his ears. You wanted to hear from him. You gave him another opening while he kept mentally blocking the door with his foot.
You trusted him enough to want a connection outside of the cab and the rules he internally created and enforced.
“But you don’t have to,” you added quickly, reaching for the door handle. “I can wait until next week to talk to you and-”
“Wait,” he begged, trying not to panic. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn’t want to reach out. “I’ll, um… give you mine, too.”
You met his gaze in the mirror. He wanted to memorize how you looked at this moment. Hopeful. Beautiful.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
He found a pen and a receipt, making sure his writing was legible as he jotted it down. Your smile when he handed it over soothed his nerves. The smooth thing to do would’ve been to put his phone number on the movie list when he gave it to you earlier. But this was better.
This felt more right.
“Thanks.” You tucked it away like it was something sacred. “I’ll text you.”
He nodded, his throat tight. “I’d like that.”
You stepped out into the cool air, glancing back at him. The tension was almost completely gone from your shoulders. The glow from the street lamps made your eyes sparkle.
He couldn’t look away from you if he tried.
“Good night, Buck.”
“Good night.”
Once you were inside, he glanced at your number again, reading it until the numbers ran together. He reached for the phone to message the guys and Becca before deciding against it. Sam would lose his mind. Steve would tell him not to overthink it. Becca would be somewhere in the middle. He didn’t need that tonight.
He wanted to hang onto this just a little longer and let it sink in that it was real.
Besides, it was just an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t ask him out. He didn’t ask you out. He was still being professional.
But he did check his phone immediately when a new message popped up.
“Happy fourteenth Thursday. Thanks again for the ride.”
Still counting like me.
“Anytime. Get some rest. And let me know when you watch the first movie.”
A neutral message. Polite. Professional.
“I’m still in trouble.”
And he grinned like an idiot because of it.
You messaged him on Friday night.
He saved you under his contacts as MFP, my favorite passenger.
MFP: “Halfway through the movie.”
His fingers hovered over the screen. If he typed back too quickly, he’d look desperate. If he waited too long, he’d look aloof.
A full minute was enough time.
“And?”
He winced at himself. That was too short. Too blunt.
MFP: “They switched part of what happened in the book. Trying to reserve my judgement until the end.”
A sense of awe filled him. You read the book. Of course, you did. That made him want you even more.
But he couldn’t say that.
“I didn’t like the switch at first either, but keep watching. Trust me.”
MFP: “I trust you.”
That made his breath catch.
He scratched behind Alpine’s ear, smiling when she purred. “She’s watching it and texting me. That’s good, right?”
She meowed happily.
He put the movie on, too, in the hopes that he wouldn’t keep checking his phone.
You messaged him again an hour later.
MFP: “My score: 8/10. Adventurous, heartwarming, and visually stunning. I see why it’s your favorite.”
He smiled, typing out, “Dinner and tell me more?”
He deleted it and started over.
“8/10? I’ll take it. What didn’t you like besides the book switch?”
MFP: “A one point deduction was for the book switch. Another deduction for the bad wig. I mean, a huge budget like that and they couldn’t give the lead some good hair? Tragic.”
Bucky chuckled. “You make a good point. It was pretty bad.”
MFP: “But movie wise? So far, so good for your taste.”
That was a win in his book.
You didn’t message him again until Saturday night.
MFP: “Is brinner an acceptable choice on a Saturday night?”
He smiled immediately.
“Brinner is an acceptable choice every night.”
MFP: “I knew you’d understand. I can eat while I watch the second movie on the list.”
“I bet you’ll give it a 7/10.”
MFP: “We’ll see if you’re right. Hope you're having a good weekend.”
He reread that statement twice. It felt measured. Careful.
“You, too.”
He read the message again after sending it.
Maybe it was another message that was too short.
And it was too late to erase it.
You sent him a photo of a white cat on Sunday.
MFP: “Is this Alpine’s doppelganger?”
He chuckled. The image wasn’t too far off but Alpine was prettier. He was a bit biased when it came to his feline.
“There’s no cat like Al.”
MFP: “I believe it. And you were right, but the way. 7/10. I deducted two points for the one terrible accent.”
He tilted his head and laughed again. He had almost forgotten about the bad accent. It was amazing how one actor or actress could throw off an entire scene.
“Much deserved deduction. Al would approve.”
MFP: “I’m honored.”
He didn’t hear from you for the rest of the day.
It was his turn to message you first.
“Hope you have water and caffeine to get you through Monday.”
He stared at it after sending. Maybe that too personal. Maybe it wasn’t enough.
MFP: “Do I have to have water?”
He laughed, picturing you scrunching up your face.
“Need you to stay hydrated.”
Because he cared.
MFP: “But what if I try to live on stubbornness like you?”
You’re too good to live on stubbornness.
“Still need water.”
MFP: “Yes, Sarge.”
Oh, that did something to him.
MFP: “But only if you drink some water, too.”
“I will.”
He would for you.
He didn’t hear from you on Tuesday.
That was fine. You were busy. You had a life outside of him. And he didn’t want to bother you.
But he checked his phone more than he should have.
You messaged him first thing on Wednesday.
MFP: “Is it Friday Eve yet?”
Relief hit him faster than he expected.
“Almost. You surviving?”
There was a delay this time. Long enough for him to notice.
MFP: “Barely, but I’m trying.”
He frowned a little.
“Hang in there.”
He hesitated before adding another message.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was another pause.
MFP: “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
He stared at it longer than he meant to.
Something about it felt different. Quieter. He could’ve been imagining it.
He sent one more message before he could stop himself.
“Can’t wait.”
He meant it.
Even if something told him tomorrow would feel different.
Bucky waited at the curb as patiently as he could, checking his hair three times. Just like every week before, he looked forward to seeing you. But this felt different because the texts had been good overall. Almost effortless.
Almost.
Tonight could be a turning point.
Bucky checked his phone again, even though he told himself he wouldn’t.
Sam: “You better not fumble this now that you got her number.”
Stevie: “Ignore him. Just be yourself.”
He huffed under his breath, locking the screen.
Like it’s that easy.
He turned his attention back to your building, his heart sinking the moment you stepped outside.
The usual sweep of your gaze didn’t happen since you were looking at your feet. You hardly seem to notice or care that your bag slipped from your shoulder. When you finally lifted your gaze, you looked worn out in a way he had never seen before.
It was like someone took the light inside you and dialed it down.
Everyone had bad days. That was a normal part of life. But this was you.
It didn’t sit right with him at all.
“Happy Friday Eve,” you stated with a dim smile, hugging the blanket against your chest like a pillow. Your fingers trembled just enough that he spotted it.
“Friday Junior,” he said because that’s what he was supposed to say.
Same thing.
You didn’t say it.
You looked out the window, your jaw tight enough that he could see the tension in your neck. There was no teasing either as he drove. No references to any of the messages between you, like brinner or the bad wig or accent from the movies. No jokes about staying hydrated or calling him Sarge.
There were no comments on anything.
Just the kind of silence that for the first time felt off between you two.
Something was wrong.
I fucked this up, didn’t I?
He thought back to every message he sent like he could figure out the exact moment things flipped.
He responded in a timely manner. He initiated at times so it wouldn’t all fall on you. They weren’t overly flirty but they weren’t cold either.
Maybe you expected more and he let you down.
Or maybe he leaned in too far with the “can’t wait” message and now you were pulling back.
“Hey, um…” He cleared his throat, his grip shifting on the wheel. “If I said something wrong, or if I upset you with one of my texts…”
“What?” Your head snapped toward him, your brows pinching. “Buck, no.”
He blinked, surprised at how quickly you shut that down when his mind was screaming at him. “You sure?” He bit the inside of his cheek. “You just seem off, and I didn’t want it to be because of me.”
He was sure he could handle just about anything but that.
He didn’t want to lose the one bright part of his week because he misread a moment or sent the wrong text.
“Buck,” you said, even gentler this time. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His shoulders dropped. “Really?” he pressed, needing to be absolutely certain.
“Really. I like talking with you… a lot,” you promised, a shallow breath leaving your lungs. “I swear, it isn’t you.”
The weight in his chest eased enough for him to breathe but not enough to feel okay since your voice cracked. You liked talking to him, which was good. Better than good. But if he wasn’t the issue, it was something else. Something you weren’t telling him.
It worried him.
“Can I ask you something?” you asked softly.
“Yeah. Anything,” he said honestly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this.” You paused to consider your words. “Why do you drive?”
He inhaled. It wasn’t unusual for you to ask about him. But most people didn’t care enough to ask why he did this job.
You weren’t most people there, were you?
Your gaze was back on him instead of looking out the window, waiting patiently for his answer because you wanted to know.
Like Becca said… you care.
“I guess the easy answer is having a flexible schedule, getting decent money on the right nights, and it beats being in an office with some boss hounding me.”
You gave him a knowing, very small smile. “And what’s the real answer?”
He took a breath. “You remember I served in the army.” You nodded in acknowledgement. “When I got out… there was no clear objective. No structure.” His voice stayed even, but quieter. “It was just… a lot of noise.”
He stared at the taillights in front of him, lost for a moment.
His smile had been wrong for days when he got out. Everything seemed like too much or not enough. And the world didn’t slow down just because people couldn’t keep up.
“I had my friends. My sister. I wasn’t alone,” he said like it mattered because it did. Not everyone had that support. “But it still felt like I was supposed to be doing something… and I didn’t know what that was.”
You didn’t interrupt or rush him, so he continued.
“But this?” He gestured around the cab. “It gave me something again.”
A sense of purpose. A mission.
“I have an objective… orders,” he explained, tapping the dashboard. “I pick a passenger up and I get them from point A to point B. That’s the job.”
You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“And how I get you there? That’s on me.” He tapped his chest. “If the weather’s bad, I take it into account. If there’s awful traffic, I adjust. If my usual route is blocked, I find another way.”
“So, it gives you a sense of control,” you mused. “You know what you have to do, but you choose how you execute it.”
He nodded. You seemed to understand. Not everyone did.
“It’s simple in a good way. Discipline and structure with adaptability.” He ran a hand along the wheel, smiling to himself. “I know what I’m supposed to do. I know I can do it well.”
He glanced at you in the mirror, vulnerability shining in his eyes.
“And at the end of the ride… I get someone where they need to go. Safely.”
He paused, the sounds of honking horns and engines surrounding him. It was strangely comforting. But the most comforting thing was your presence and tender expression.
“And sometimes… that’s enough,” he finished.
“It is. It matters,” you insisted, gently but firmly. “More than you think.”
You make me feel like I matter.
“I do my best.” The words came out nonchalantly but he meant it. “I can’t control what others do when they’re on the road, just like they can’t control me. But if something does happen, I fix it.”
Your expression shifted. “And if there’s a time that you can’t fix it? You can’t control what’s happening?”
Bucky stilled before he realized it. That didn’t sound like you were talking about driving. He had a good read on people, but he couldn’t read between the lines of this. Couldn’t figure out why you were asking that.
What needs fixing?
“I just keep driving,” he finally answered. “Like Steve always says… We have to move forward.”
You shifted in your seat. “I guess it’s all we can do,” you said more to yourself than him. “And for what it’s worth, you really are doing a great job,” you added.
He inhaled sharply. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You help people every time you drive. You don’t just drive well. You do it safely, like you said,” you pointed out, giving him a small smile. “I always feel safe when I’m with you.”
Those words landed in the middle of his doubt in himself, threatening to tear it apart. There was trust within your compliment. It was pure in an impure world.
“Good.” He had to swallow to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
You smiled again, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
His chest ached. Every smile seemed to take more effort than it should, like you were chipping away little pieces of yourself. He hated that.
He hated that he couldn’t shoulder the weight still pushing you down, even just a little.
“Here we are,” he said once he stopped, quieter than before.
“Thanks, Buck,” you said, handing over a protein bar with the cash. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that you upset me.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, turning around as best as he could so he could see you. “You don’t have to do that with me.”
There was no reason for you to apologize when he was the one overthinking.
“But are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, searching your face for the answer your lips may not say.
Lean on me if you aren’t.
Something passed in your eyes and then it was gone. “I will be,” you assured him.
His stomach dropped when you took the blanket with you, like you forgot you were holding it. You clutched it like a lifeline as you walked away from the cab. He watched you go, reaching for the door handle. You disappeared into the building before he could follow, which he had never done before.
You weren’t okay.
For the first time since he met you, he had no idea how to fix it.
But something told him he was about to find out.
By the time he came back, he was tense. He told himself you just needed time with your family tonight. That whatever was on your mind eased with some laughter and familiar warmth.
It had to have helped.
…Right?
His heart didn’t sink when he saw you.
It cracked.
You had the blanket around your shoulders, trying to hold yourself together as you put one foot in front of the other. The look of sadness on your face wasn’t fleeting or light. It was the kind that settled in your bones.
What the hell happened?
You forced a smile when you met his eye and it twisted something inside him painfully.
Don’t do that. Please, don’t do that.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you replied, your voice thin.
He didn’t drive off right away, giving you a moment to get your bearings.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t slip your shoes off or tuck yourself in. The blanket stayed around your shoulders like an afterthought. Your breaths were too measured. Too careful.
He held the wheel so tight that his fingers ached.
You were a heartbeat away from unraveling.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The city bustled around like normal, but nothing inside the cab felt the same.
The air felt even heavier than earlier. The silence was too loud.. Louder than any word you ever spoke.
And you simply stared ahead like you were bracing yourself for impact.
His teeth snapped together, trying hard to keep himself in check. His job was to get you home safely. If you wanted to confide in him, he’d listen. But you didn’t have to lean on him.
He was just…
Your breath hitched on the next turn.
He made it three more blocks before he couldn’t take it anymore.
Fuck this. I’m not just your driver.
He switched lanes and turned down a road he had never taken on your route before. It was familiar to him, of course. Away from some of the noise. It had a soothing view, too.
Exhaling through his nose, he stopped the car and turned to look at you.
He recognized pain when he saw it. Had lived through it. He couldn’t recall ever seeing you look so fragile.
It’s okay to break with me.
“Hey,” he said carefully because you needed something gentle. “I know you said you’ll be alright… but you’re not.”
“I will be,” you said quickly, your lower lip trembling. “I have to be.”
“Hey…” he whispered again.
You don’t need to be strong tonight.
You shook your head automatically, your next breath shaky. “I don’t want to dump this on you.”
“You’re not dumping anything on me,” he promised, needing you to believe him. “You’re hurting.”
Your eyes filled and you tried to blink the moisture away.
He didn’t think when he got out of the cab, his body moving on instinct at the sight of your tears. He got in the back with you, leaving you enough space so you wouldn’t feel cornered. His hands rested on his knees, making sure not to touch you since he didn’t know if that would help or make things worse.
But he wanted to be there for you.
“Please, let me help,” he begged, his voice thick. “Even just a little.”
That did it.
A sob burst from your chest, your hand coming up to cover your mouth and failing to keep it in.
His heart stopped, his fingers curling to hold himself back from hauling you into his arms.
You hastily wiped your tears away that fell, like it would hide them. Your shoulders shook the more you tried to hold them in. Another broken sound escaped, the threads inside you slowly pulling apart.
“He’s sick,” you whimpered. “My brother…”
Your words were like a punch to the gut.
Oh, no…
“He has been for a while. They thought he was getting better, but the last couple of weeks have been bad,” you admitted, your face crumbling. “He barely made it through dinner tonight before he had to lay down.”
His jaw tightened in that helpless way when grief felt too close and overpowering.
“And the kids… They don’t get why their dad is so tired or why their mom looks so sad when she thinks no one’s looking.” You hiccuped, the sound raw. “And I’m trying to help when I can. I’m trying to be strong for everyone, but I’m scared and… I can’t fix this.”
His throat went tight.
“And if there’s a time that you can’t fix it? You can’t control what’s happening?”
It all made sense now.
The nights where you looked a little worn down. Your smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. Your light dimming. The talk earlier tonight.
While he had been overanalyzing his interactions with you, you were carrying this.
Alone.
And he couldn’t fix it for you.
“I help cook, clean, make the kids smile, but I don’t know what to do anymore,” you whimpered, looking at him with teary eyes. “It hurt for me to smile tonight.”
Trying to smile through pain was one of the hardest things a person could do.
“I’ve been holding this in and I… can’t anymore.”
Bucky couldn’t keep staying behind the line he drew.
Not anymore.
His arms went around you without another thought, strong and steady, pulling you in like it was the most natural thing in the world. You clung to him, your fingers curling in his shirt as you sobbed painfully into his neck. He closed his eyes, willing whatever being was watching over them to feed some of your pain into him.
Don’t do this to her. Give it to me. I can take it.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, cradling the back of your head as your cries continued. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t say it was okay because it wasn’t. But he was there. Solid and real. Nothing else mattered except you.
“He’s my big brother. He’s a good guy. He’s supposed to be okay,” you choked out between sobs. “But he isn’t, and I can’t make it any better.”
He pressed his cheek to your temple. He knew how afraid Becca had been when he served and how relieved she was when he came back. If he were to get sick now… If anything happened to him…
“You just need to love him,” he whispered against your ear. “And you do. You have such a big heart.”
You cried harder, making him hold you closer.
“Just let it out,” he urged, rubbing your shaking back.
Minutes passed before your cries eventually slowed to small sniffles. Your body slumped against his, the tears wearing you out. And he held you through it all, letting you feel his warmth and comfort.
You lifted your head slowly, your cheeks wet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for that,” he said, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “Sometimes saying it out loud makes it more real and it opens up the floodgates before you’re ready.”
Like me being a coward about my feelings for you.
You leaned into his touch briefly. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” you said, your voice wrecked.
“You’re not.” He pulled back enough to really look at you. “You never could be.”
You searched his face, your lip trembling again. “Am I doing enough?”
Your grief already cut open his heart, but your question made him feel the blade all over again.
“You’re doing more than enough. You’re showing up for everyone. That matters,” he swore to you, echoing some of your earlier words as he held you tighter. “More than you know.”
Your eyes shimmered again, but the tears didn’t fall.
“And you can lean on me whenever you need to,” he added, giving you a tender smile. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
You smiled back faintly. “Thanks, Buck.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Anytime.”
You let go of his shirt, but didn’t make an effort to move out of his arms. He didn’t move either, taking a second to breathe with you and memorize how it felt to hold you. He’d keep you in his embrace all night if he could.
“Can I just...” You glanced down, your fingers absentmindedly tracing a pattern on your thigh. “Can I say something?”
“Anything,” he answered, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders.
Say whatever you need to. I got you.
“Seeing you… talking to you,” you began. “I always look forward to it.”
You lifted your gaze, somehow more exposed and vulnerable than your earlier tears.
“It’s the best part of my week,” you admitted.
Bucky froze completely.
You exhaled shakily, like you said too much.
“I didn’t want to fall apart in front of you,” you went on while his brain was scrambling to catch up. “But everything felt heavy and I just… I felt safe enough that I could. So… thank you. For that.”
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Your words flowed through him, filing every crack he couldn’t seal shut himself.
I’m the best part of your week?
Not work, your friends, or even your family?
Me?
Since the beginning, he told himself to stay in his lane and keep things simple. To be professional. Driver and passenger. That was it.
But you were here in his arms, trusting him enough with something so raw and admitting that he was the one thing that made your week a little lighter.
Him.
And he was still acting as if there was a line he shouldn’t cross?
His thumb brushed your shoulder. You looked to him for comfort tonight. You needed him in a way.
Maybe you wanted him, too.
If that were true, what the hell was he waiting for?
Don’t rush her. Don’t make this about me.
“I appreciate you telling me that,” he whispered once he found his voice. “Let’s get you home, okay?”
You nodded, your energy spent as you shifted from his hold. He felt the loss immediately, the cab feeling colder. But he didn’t linger, as much as he wanted to.
He moved back to the driver seat grudgingly and started the engine.
You weren’t too far from your place, but he drove a bit slower and checked the mirror more than he needed to. You had your legs curled up now, your eyes heavy but open. Not distant or shut down. Just tired.
You had a good reason to feel tired.
But you also gave him a smile when you caught him looking the last time. A small, real one. Because you felt safe.
You’re safe with me.
The lights didn’t seem as harsh when he turned onto your street. The breeze wasn’t as strong. The world seemed to realize you needed little wins after breaking down.
Neither of you moved right away when he parked.
“Hey.” He turned slightly in his seat, your expression glassy but more clear when you handed him the money. “I’m gonna walk you to your building tonight.”
It wasn’t a question or suggestion.
Should’ve been doing that since the first night.
“I’d like that,” you uttered.
“And you can take the blanket,” he offered when you started to fold it. “If you want.”
“Really?” Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh, my God. I took it with me earlier. I’m so sorry.”
Bucky had to smile at the way you looked genuinely distressed, like you had done something unforgivable.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “You had a lot on your mind.”
You hesitated, but didn’t set it down. “Are you sure I can take it with me?”
“Yeah.” His gaze softened. “I put it back there so you’d be comfortable, and it kinda defeats the purpose if you don’t use it.”
He wouldn’t be there to hold you tonight if you cried again, so the blanket would have to do. It was a small piece of comfort. A small piece of him.
Warmth filled your eyes. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he replied, meaning it in more ways than one.
He stepped out first, going to your door to open it. He didn’t rush you as you gathered your things, letting you go at your pace. He understood how the body lagged sometimes after everything spilled over.
And his hand was already outstretched to help you out if you wanted it.
You took it.
Instead of the usual spark when your fingers touched, something steadier and grounding moved between you both.
It felt like your hand belonged with his.
It feels right.
He helped you out and fell in step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. Your thumb brushed his skin, making his grip tighten a fraction when he glanced at you. Faint exhaustion lingered in your body, but you weren’t as tense. Your breathing had evened out.
The hurt was still there, but you were safe.
You made it to the door, the light above it casting a glow over you, but you didn’t reach for the handle or let go of his hand.
The soft good nights usually happened at the car, but not tonight.
“Thank you for tonight,” you said above a whisper.
He nodded, everything from the last few weeks pressing into his mind.
Sam on one shoulder. “Be a man and get her number.
Steve on the other. “You’re allowed to want something.”
The teasing. The smiles. The protein bars. The card your niece and nephew made. The movie list.
How you quietly gave him your number. The careful texts. The deeper talks.
The way you trusted him and broke in his arms tonight.
The way you said he’s the best part of your week.
The way he was done pretending that there wasn’t something there between you.
Time to erase the line for good.
He kept your hand in his, refusing to retreat into neutral territory. “I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. “I was thinking.”
You gazed at him expectantly.
“I know things are… a lot right now,” he said, trying to be careful and not add pressure when you had so much on your mind. “With your brother and everything.”
Your grip tightened on the blanket, but you nodded for him to continue.
“And I’m not trying to…” He huffed a little, almost frustrated with himself. “I’m not trying to make things harder for you.”
That was the last thing he wanted to do.
“You’re not,” you said, stepping closer. “You never could.”
That gave him just enough courage to keep going, taking one last deep breath.
Just say it.
“I just… I don’t want to keep pretending that I’m just your cab driver anymore. Not after tonight,” he said, his forehead almost touching yours. “Because you’re the best part of my week, too.”
Your breath caught enough that he felt it.
“So. When things feel less heavy, or you just need a break…” His heart was pounding now. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
He didn’t breathe as the question hung in the air.
Opening up and asking you out wasn’t going to magically erase the pain or worry you felt. It wouldn’t fix what was happening with your brother. But you didn’t need to go it alone.
You stared at him, almost like you were afraid he’d take the offer back. “Dinner?” you echoed.
“Yeah. Dinner. With me,” he said, his voice low. “No meter running or route. Just… us.”
Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.
“Because I want to see you outside of the cab.” His thumb brushed your knuckles. “I want to critique movies and books with you and eat pizza or noodles or brinner and just talk. I want Al to finally see my favorite passenger in person.”
A small laugh escaped you, the sound like sunlight appearing after a storm.
“But only if you want, and only when you’re ready.”
You stared at him for a long moment before you smiled, one that reached your eyes for the first time tonight.
“I’d like that,” you said
The rush of relief hit him so fast it almost made him lightheaded. You wanted to have dinner with him. You wanted to see him outside of the weekly routine.
“Yeah?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yeah,” you replied, tender and certain. “Is… tomorrow too soon?”
Bucky blinked, genuinely thinking he misheard you.
Tomorrow?
His heart stuttered. He expected an offer to check your schedule or something weeks down the line. But not this.
“Tomorrow?” he repeated breathlessly.
You nodded, a tad shy. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re free… and it’s not too fast or anything?”
Too fast?
I’ve been waiting fifteen Thursdays now for this.
“It’s not too fast.” He shook his head, a faint, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. “It’s actually kinda perfect.”
“It is?”
“It is,” he said, more certain. “Tomorrow’s great.”
Tomorrow meant you wanted this. Not just someday down the line, but now. Even with everything going on.
“We can keep it easy,” he said, his thumb moving over your knuckles again. “Whatever you’re up for.”
“Movie?” you suggested, a small hint of your usual warmth slipping back in. “And noodles?”
He laughed. “Number seven?”
“Number seven,” you confirmed, your smile widening.
“Alright. Noodles and a movie at my place.”
“It’s a date,” you whispered.
A date.
You were still standing close. Close enough that if he leaned in just a fraction… God, he wanted to kiss you. More than anything.
The two of you took an important step. He finally stopped being a coward. You didn’t hold everything in.
But he didn’t kiss you.
Tonight wasn’t about that.
His forehead, however, did intentionally brush yours this time.
“I’ll text you,” he murmured.
“I’ll be waiting.”
And I’ll be counting down the minutes.
You squeezed his hand before finally stepping back, his blanket tucked against your chest. “Good night, Buck.”
He memorized the way you gazed at him, basking in that glow. “Good night.”
You slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. There was no drop in his stomach. No nerves.
He didn’t have to wait for another Thursday to see you again.
He finally turned back toward the cab, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically process what just happened.
Dinner and a movie.
You wanted to spend time with him.
“Jesus,” he muttered happily under his breath as he slid back into the driver’s seat.
His gaze drifted to the backseat, landing on the empty space where you had been curled up just minutes ago, his blanket wrapped around you, trusting him with something rough and fragile.
When he picked you up tomorrow, you could sit in the front beside him.
His phone buzzed, his heart picking up before he even saw your message.
Of course, it was you.
MFP: “Curled up on the couch with your blanket. Thanks again. For everything.”
It gave him peace of mind knowing you made it into your place safe and sound since he only walked you to the building door.
“Thanks for letting me help.”
He made a difference tonight.
He almost set the phone down when another message popped up.
MFP: “My brother was awake when I reached out.”
He held his breath. Was he okay? Did something happen?
“Yeah?”
Three dots appeared long enough that he sat up straighter.
MFP: “I told him we’re having dinner tomorrow, and he said he’s looking forward to meeting the guy who keeps me safe every week.”
He reread the message until the screen went dark.
Your brother, the one you were terrified for, wanted to meet him.
Becca would want to meet you.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to ground himself. Something earnest and dangerously close to overwhelming spread from his chest, the card on the dashboard staring at him. It brought a smile to his face.
“I’d be honored to meet him. I’ll have to make a good first impression.”
As a big brother, Bucky sensed and respected that he would be a bit protective of you.
MFP: “You already have.”
The additional layer of assurance did wonders.
MFP: “Get some rest tonight, okay? Happy Friday Eve.”
There it was.
Soft, familiar, and you.
“You, too. And it’s Friday Junior.”
MFP: “Same thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, happiness filling him to the point where he thought he’d float away.
He shot off a quick message to the guys and Becca. “Got a date tomorrow night. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
With a smile, he put the phone away. He could already see Sam losing his mind and Steve would try and fail to act subtle about it. Becca would demand every detail after. He’d wait until later to see and hear their stunned reactions.
For now, he was going to drive and get a few more people where they needed to go.
But not before taking one last look at your building and picturing you curled up with his blanket.
Fifteen Thursdays.
Fifteen weeks of watching you slip into his cab with tired eyes, soft smiles, and sweetness that made a difference in his day. Fifteen weeks of falling for you in steady increments. Fifteen weeks of chances he almost let slip by because it took him some time to feel brave.
And tonight he erased the line he drew in the sand for good because you mattered more.
You let him see you and it was a beautiful thing.
“Tomorrow,” he said again like a promise, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.
Tomorrow there wouldn’t be a meter running or rearview mirror glances. No pretending it was just another ride. It would just be you and him.
He was counting down the minutes.
And for once, he didn’t feel like he needed to second guess any of it.
Whew! Did we make it? This isn't the end for these two. It's very much a beginning. Would love to hear your thoughts!
Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Female Reader
Summary: You are tired, which is the norm for you nowadays, and share a sweet moment with Bucky.
Word Count: Over 1.8k
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, pet name (sweetheart for you, baby nicknamed Sprout), stretch marks (they are beautiful), mention of serum, tiredness, fluff, feels, domestic life, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Lovelies, I have been exhausted for some time now and this popped into my head for Soft Echoes, Strong Roots AU. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You stretched out on the bed with a small sigh, ready to put the day to rest. It was peaceful in your room with no appointments or demands to take up your time. Bucky would join you once he shut everything off and double checked the locks. It was such a small domestic and protective thing and it brought a soft smile to your face.
This was your life. Your home. Your family.
You were already half asleep when Bucky settled behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You were surprised you weren’t out the moment your head hit the pillow. His arm slid around your waist automatically, his palm resting on your stomach protectively. He exhaled against your neck, his chest solid and warm against your back.
Everything felt right when he held you like that, his presence wrapping around you as naturally as the blanket keeping you warm.
“You feeling okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his thumb brushing the curve of your belly like he was trying to memorize the feeling.
You hummed in response, not quite opening your eyes. “Hmm. Just fine.”
The room felt more calm and quiet, like the world and time itself slowed down for the two of you.
Well, three of you.
“Not hungry?”
“You made sure we ate plenty,” you answered.
“Good.” Bucky nuzzled your skin, drawing a small laugh from you when his stubble tickled you. “And now you need rest.”
“That’s why I’m already in bed,” you teased.
“Good,” he said again.
The last few weeks had been chaotic. Not bad, thankfully, but busy in a relentless way. Appointments and every day life stacked on top of you until you felt stretched thin. Your energy seemed to go just as quickly as it came. Some days you felt like you were chasing the clock, always a step behind when your body was working overtime to accomplish everything. You just couldn’t seem to keep up.
Bucky noticed.
Of course, he did.
It was in the way his brows pinched when he looked at you, cataloguing every yawn and when your shoulders slumped. His voice softened whenever he said your name, the sound soothing when exhaustion seeped in. He began to carry you around without you asking, leaving no room for argument. He tried to take things off your plate, too, even when he had his own things to do.
“You’re gonna run yourself into the ground at this level, sweetheart.”
“Bucky, I’m pregnant. Being tired comes with the territory. That’s just how it is.”
You said that because you believed it. Because you had to be strong and prove you could handle it. Life wasn’t about to give you a pass because you two decided to have a baby.
But Bucky saw through that.
“I’m your husband and the father of our child. You can lean on me instead of trying to do it all by yourself. Just like I lean on you some days.”
The words carved their way into your heart and didn’t leave.
Because he was right. Some days when the world felt too heavy, he looked to you for support. You were there for him without question. And he was there for you, too.
It wasn’t out of obligation to give and take nor was it the kind of thing where you kept score. It was out of love and devotion, something that made you both stronger. Neither of you had to carry anything alone anymore.
The truth of that eased something in your chest you hadn't realized was there until you exhaled.
“Guess what?” he asked, his voice light and breaking through your thoughts.
“I thought I was supposed to be resting, not talking,” you replied, giggling again when his teeth nipped your skin. “Okay, okay. What?”
“We should be getting the pictures tomorrow.”
You smiled happily. “Really? That’s great!” you replied, your baby moving around as if they felt how excited you were.
A bright light within the business was the recent maternity photoshoot. The weather had been perfect, you wore a beautiful dress, and Bucky smiled so much in and out of the photos you were certain his cheeks ached. He already picked out the space on the wall where he wanted them hung up and there was an empty frame on his desk waiting for the right picture. He was so happy.
You both were.
“I know they’re going to be perfect,” he said quietly, chuckling under his breath. “And Sprout’s been busy today. Kicking like they’ve got somewhere to be.”
Your smile widened and you shifted just enough to press back against him. “I think they get that from you.”
Your baby must’ve picked up his old dancing skills because they did a fantastic number on your bladder earlier in the day.
At least you made it to the bathroom in time.
He huffed under his breath. “Hey. I was a perfectly calm kid.”
You opened your eyes and turned your head just enough to give him a look over your shoulder. He smiled and your heart beat faster. His blue eyes softened when his fingers traced your belly again, touching one of your stretch marks through your shirt. He traced it like it was something sacred.
You both bore life-changing marks on your skin, your bodies telling stories that only the two of you would ever fully read.
“You keep touching them,” you whispered, not accusingly. More like awe.
“I do,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your neck and shifting your body so you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder. “I know you don’t think they’re pretty, but they’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
You blinked, only semi-surprised. “Really?”
Bucky always found a way to make you feel beautiful and desired. Whether it was through his actions or words, he never wanted you to doubt yourself or how much he craved you. You were certain he would do that for the rest of your lives. But since you got pregnant, he took it to another level of worship.
Not that you would ever complain about having his attention and focus.
“I mean it. Your body is changing because our baby is growing and it’s so beautiful. We made this. You and me.” His fingers moved again, tracing each mark with intention. “I’ve seen a lot of things. Stuff I wish I could forget. But this?” He let out a shaky breath, his hand pausing to cradle your stomach tenderly. “This is the best thing I’ve ever been part of.”
Your throat tightened. Your eyes watered. Damn hormones kept making you emotional. Except it wasn’t the hormones at all. It was just you in love with this man.
A man who loved you and your baby with his entire being.
“How are you so perfect?” you asked.
His nose scrunched when he laughed, the sound making your heart feel full. “Sweetheart, I’m so fucking far from perfect.”
You took his face in your hands, refusing to let him think of himself as anything less . “Bucky Barnes, listen to me.”
“I always listen,” he swore, solely focused on you. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
It took you a second to speak since having his full attention was overwhelming in the best way. “You are the best husband and provider. And not just because you fix the sink and bring me ice cream and validate my feelings when I’m insecure. You love, take care of, and respect me. You remind me that I don’t have to go it alone,” you said, your gaze affectionate when he leaned into your touch. “And I know you’ll be the perfect father.”
“You think so?” he asked after a moment, his voice thick.
“I know so,” you said.
He quickly closed the small gap between you, kissing you so deeply that it stole the breath from your lungs. “Thank you.”
Your heart beat wildly. “You have nothing to thank me for,” you said, your face twisting at the particularly hard kick in your stomach and making Bucky frown slightly. “Our baby really is a mover.”
Along with his dancing skills, you guessed your baby would have his agility and strength. You were thankful they hadn’t kicked through your stomach. Your husband may have gone off on someone who suggested it could be a possibility thanks to the serum. They hadn’t looked you in the eye since, much to your better half’s satisfaction.
No one would ever look out for you more than him.
“Hey, Sprout. Your Mama’s been working extra hard lately. Growing you takes a lot out of her.” The fondness in his voice was enough to make a tear fall. “She’s magical and stronger than I’ll ever be, but we need to make sure she gets enough rest for both of you. Maybe we can start with gentler kicks? Can you do that?”
The kick under his palm was much softer, like they understood.
His eyes lit up and your chin wobbled. He looked so happy. You knew some days he still couldn’t believe he got to have this, but no one deserved it more.
“They really can understand me,” he said in awe.
“Of course, they do.”
They loved the sound of his voice.
“Thank you, Sprout,” he whispered, sliding down the bed enough to kiss your stomach. “You get some rest, okay? We love you.”
You sniffled when he moved back up to hold you again, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss. “And did you, a super soldier, seriously call me strong? And magical?” you asked so you wouldn’t ugly sob from how sweet he was being.
“You are strong and magical. Sprout agrees,” he said gently but firmly before he kissed your tear away. “But even the strong and magical need rest.”
You stifled a yawn, your eyes slipping shut. You did need the rest. “Will you be here when I wake up?”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He nuzzled your neck again and kept you close. “I love you both so much.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “We love you, too.”
“And I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to deserve this,” he admitted quietly. “You. Sprout. All of it.”
Your hand covered his and your baby rolled beneath his palm, both of you leaning into him and seeking to comfort him before his thoughts spiraled. “You already have,” you assured him. “Trust us.”
You and Bucky built a life and home together, one that he more than deserved. You were partners in life and love. That love extended to your baby and would only continue to grow.
Tonight you didn’t have to think of anything beyond the walls of your bedroom. You could simply rest in his arms and let everything else be. And he’d watch over you while you slept like the hero he was.
And a man in love.
I hope you lovelies all have enough spoons, get the rest you need, and have someone to lean on. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.
Word Count: Over 1.5k
Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.
You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.
Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.
He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.
“Give me his name.”
“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”
“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”
You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.
He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.
Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.
He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”
The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”
Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”
The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”
Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.
There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”
The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.
“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”
“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”
Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.
The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”
“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”
The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”
Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”
His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”
“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”
“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”
“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”
The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.
“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”
Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.
“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”
“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”
The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.
“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”
“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”
“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”
The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.
“Love you.”
His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”
He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.
But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.
Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
