You're injured on a mission, someone has enough medical training to help out...
Warnings: Flirty Bucky (godess help us all)
Word Count: 550ish
Bucky Masterlist
“I don't think your hand needs to be there -”
“One, how do you know? You can’t see. Two, is there anywhere else you’d like me to put it?”
“Bucky -”
“I’m concentrating,” he cut in, calm but firm. “Hold still.”
The hand on your inner thigh held as tight as your breath felt.
A rogue bullet - so close to you you’d heard it graze the back of your leg.
Now you were bent over the edge of a table, pants shoved down to your knees, while Bucky crouched so close you could have sat on him, with a med kit balanced on one knee.
His left hand held your thigh still, while his right worked to clean the half-inch gash the bullet had left behind.
The sting of antiseptic burned, and you flinched.
“Hey,” he said sharply. “Don’t move. You want an ugly scar on your ass?”
“It's not on my ass.” You scowled, blinking back tears, but stilled under his grip. His tone wasn’t harsh, just firm.
The doorway creaked.
Yelena leaned against the frame, chewing on a protein bar, her smirk wide as the Grand Canyon. “You nearly done? We gotta move -”
“Five minutes, Lena,” Bucky replied without looking up. His voice was tight, focused, his eyes locked on the wound.
She looked at you - tactical pants around your knees, your teeth sunk into your lip, Barnes crouched with his face level with your bare thigh and ass.
“Just a flesh wound, rybka,” you muttered casually.
She winked. “Even so, I bet Barnes is happy to have your peach in his face.”
“Lena -” You warned.
Her laughter echoed down the hall as she sauntered away, leaving you red-faced and Bucky maddeningly unbothered.
His mouth quirked at one corner, just enough to betray amusement. “Peach, huh?”
“Don’t -” You hissed through your teeth as the needle pricked.
“Don’t what?” His gaze stayed fixed on the wound, voice low and steady. “Don’t agree with her? Don’t notice you’re shaking?”
“I’m not -”
“You are,” he murmured, knotting the stitch tight. His hand flexed against your thigh, warm and deliberate. “Hold still, doll. Last thing you want is me slipping when I’m this close.”
Your stomach flipped. You clenched your fists against the table, every nerve alive.
Finally, he tied off the last stitch and leaned back, but his hand lingered a second too long, his thumb brushing once against the inside of your knee.
You turned quickly, grappling for your pants. His eyes lifted to yours, blue and unyielding, still crouched before you like a knight on bended knee.
“You’re good to go,” he said evenly, calm as ever, like his hand - and needle - hadn’t just branded your skin.
Then his mouth tipped into something sharper. “Hope your friend in Costa Rica doesn’t mind a scar on his dance partner's ass.”
The words punched hotter than the antiseptic.
“Why would he?” You countered stubbornly.
For the first time all night, Bucky looked rattled. Just for a heartbeat. Then he smiled like he knew exactly what were doing.
“Anyway, it's not like he’s going to see it. And it's not on my ass.”
“No?” His brow lifted, finally rising to his feet. “No one’s gonna see it?”
You forced a steady breath, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Not unless I want them to.”
His smile spread slowly, wickedly, like a secret he’d already claimed. “Guess I’ll take that as a challenge, doll.”
You scoffed. “As if you're looking at my ass ever again.”
“Twice now. And trust me, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying to memorise the view.”
By a landslide (it was the title, wasn't it? 😅) this one won the poll. Though, I have to warn you... there is no end in sight just yet for these little escalating events, so the title does not mean resolution, my loves 😈
Bucky Barnes x gn!reader
Warnings: Liberal use of Sabrina Carpenter's disco banger Tears, Bucky's super soldier hearing.
Word Count: 620
Bucky Masterlist
I should do an escalating events list 🤔
Towel | Toothpaste | Peaches | First Aid
Super soldier hearing was something Bucky had long learned to block out.
Unless he needed to listen, he didn't.
Everything lumped into a background thrum, no specifics, no honing in.
But there was one thing he couldn't stop hearing, a lilting voice singing along to the radio - constantly.
The tune, no problem. Some disco beat, catchy as fuck. But the words escaped him entirely.
Leaving the gym, he took the stairs down to the laundry room, following the sound.
“- being a responsible guy,” you sang as you folded with your back to the door. The music sounding tinny from your phone sitting on the dryer. “Treating me like you're supposed to do, tears run down my thighs.”
Sorry, what? He frowned, freezing in the doorway.
“I get wet at the thought of you, uh huh,” you continued, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other, from the clean bundle to the neatly folded pile.
His mouth went dry, his hand clenched at his side.
Memories of late, dark nights in his room filtered through. Of when he hadn't blocked out every sound. Of when he'd honed in, past Bob's room and his gentle, soft snores, to your room.
He’d tried - God, he’d tried - to tune you out before. But he could still map your nights by sound alone.
A barely there whimper, the rush of a relieved sigh. A moan, stifled by cotton. He knew it by heart. He could hear your restless tossing and turning, the drag of your hand under your pajamas.
… And then the frustrated sign of a release that barely scratched the surface, like even your own hand wasn’t enough.
“- tears run down my thighs.”
When you dropped a pair of underwear, he stooped quickly to pick them up.
You looked down, confused to see him.
“Oh - thanks,” you said, reaching for the fabric in his hand. “You're stealthy, didn't hear you come in.”
He didn’t move right away. His thumb brushed against the fabric - barely there, but deliberate. His gaze was still on you.
“Are those really the words?” he asked casually.
You blinked, thrown off. “What?”
“That song. About…” His jaw flexed, his mouth working like he was choosing each word carefully. “About being… wet -” he stopped himself, eyes dragging over you like he already knew the answer.
You laughed, a little high-pitched, fumbling to brush him off. “It’s just a song, Barnes.”
“Huh. It's catchy.” he said after a pause, his voice low and steady, “Y’know sometimes it’s not the words that stick. It’s the sounds.”
He didn’t look at you when he said it, just smoothed a hand back through his hair.
“Super soldier hearing, right?” you said breezily, but there was a rough edge in your voice.
He finally looked at you then, the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth. “Depends what I decide to tune in to.”
Your throat bobbed, your pulse jumped at your neck, and it made something feral twist in his chest. He wanted to push. To tell you exactly what he’d tuned in to. To watch you squirm. But he bit it back.
The air between you thickened, the tinny beat of the song suddenly sounded ridiculous in the background.
“Such as?” You challenged at last.
“Bob snores,” he shrugged. “Ava listens to some pretty weird podcasts.”
He watched your hands flutter nervously. Bob and Ava's rooms were either side of yours.
“And me?”
The question sliced through him.
“No complaints.” He said smoothly. A lie, because there were plenty of complaints - none of which he’d ever say out loud. Not yet.
You folded another shirt with far more precision than necessary. “No complaints, huh? Sounds like you’re not listening hard enough.”
It was promised, and here it is! I had an absolute ball writing this one! 😂
Ain't no party like a Thunderbolt party 🥳 Flirty AND competitive Bucky is a lethal combination!
A Series of Escalating Events | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (reader wears a bra & is jokingly referred to as girlfriend)
Warnings: kids party games - musical chairs, pop the balloon, Pictionary, scavenger hunt, competitive Thunderbolts, flirty Bucky.
Word Count: 992 (a liiiiittle longer because I was having too much fun!)
“What do you mean Bob's never had a birthday party?”
“Exactly that,” Ava insisted. “Never.”
“Well we need to fix that?”
And you did. With a kid's birthday party, more specifically.
Party food, bouncy pop music and games.
Alexei was manning the playlist during musical chairs. It was down to three - you, Bucky and Walker.
“Get ready, boys,” you grinned, positioning yourself like a Quarterback, knees bent, feet wide.
You needed to take Bucky out. Or more realistically, you needed John to take him out for you.
You could see Alexei itching to hit pause, John side-eying Bucky…
Then the music stopped, John threw himself into the nearest chair, shoving Bucky out of the way, you launched into the space between them…
And straight onto Bucky's lap.
You'd moved so fast, you nearly fell right over him, but an arm caught your waist and held you tightly.
“Not this time, sweetheart,” he laughed easily.
You scrambled off, but not before you caught the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
John won, to Bucky's obvious frustration.
“Don’t pout, Barnes,” Yelena smirked. “You’ve still got a chance at glory. Time for the team games!”
“Oh god,” Ava muttered.
“I am judge, jury, and executioner!” Alexei bellowed proudly, dragging balloons out of a trash bag.
Yelena pointed decisively. “You’re with Barnes, Ava, and Walker. Bob - stick with me.”
“You’re goin’ down, Starr,” you grinned.
“Don’t get cocky, Walker,” Bucky added, rolling his shoulders. “You’ll choke before round two.”
He smirked in return, “I'm already sittin’ on a win, Buck, you're girlfriend is gonna be drying your tears later.”
“Kiss my ass, Walker!” You threw your middle finger up in his direction.
You lined up as Yelena barked the rules: balloons, then Pictionary, then a scavenger hunt. First team to finish all three rounds wins.
“Rule is no hands or weapons,” Yelena declared. “Use anything else. Go!”
The room exploded into chaos. Walker immediately tried to body slam a balloon, missing completely and sprawling flat on his face. Ava howled with laughter.
“You're on my team!” He yelled, his pride wounded.
“It's MY team, actually!”
“That's why you're not gonna win, Walker - so selfish!” You cried with glee.
You trapped one between your back and the wall - only for Bucky to step in close, pinning you flat with his entire frame. His forearm braced above your head, his chest flush against yours, his breath hot at your temple.
Pop.
“Yeah John, gotta be a team player,” he added wickedly.
Your competitive streak won out, you had no time to think about his body bumping into yours, you lunged for another, pinning it between your stomach and the floor.
Across the room Yelena and Bob both bounced on balloons like rodeo champions.
His voice was in your ear again, his body sprawled over yours. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gonna move, or you want me to do all the work?”
Your pulse was racing faster than the game warranted.
“Keep going,” he murmured low, just for you. “I’ve got plenty of ideas how to break the rest.”
Pop.
With none left, you ran for the first of three huge sheets of paper hastily taped to the window. Alexei handed you a card.
You sketched furiously - what was meant to be a car ended up looking like a toaster on wheels.
Bucky leaned over your shoulder, so close you could feel the warmth of him crowding in. “That’s - uh - a TV? No? A tank? …Sweetheart, I don’t know what the hell that is.”
Your laugh broke out too loud, nerves spilling over. “It’s a car, Barnes. A car!”
“You sure?” His mouth brushed your ear as he murmured, “Looks like a bed to me.”
Your hand faltered. Heat rushed straight to your cheeks.
“Your turn,” you shoved the marker at him.
You hovered at his side. His drawing was rough, and yet you knew instantly.
“Spider,” you blurted.
He glanced at you, satisfied. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? That was one second!”
“What's next?” He looked to Alexei who passed you a piece of paper with a list of items.
twenty dollars
a sock
the third book from three different series
handcuffs
a blue rubber band
something pink
a blindfold
a knife
You scanned the list, already throwing your pocket knife into your designated pile. Bucky had added a twenty dollar bill and was pulling off a sock.
“I've got handcuffs -”
“I've got a blindfold -”
You both spoke in unison, blinked at each other, then grinned.
“Of course you do,” you said, arching a brow. “You get them, I'll get the blindfold, which isn’t nearly as interesting as you’re imagining.”
He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”
“Move, you two!” Yelena hollered from across the room. “We’re already halfway done!”
“Shit -” You ran for the hallway with him right behind you. “Get books!”
You reconvened, bumping into him as you skidded out of your room.
“I got a blue rubber band,” he huffed.
You skimmed the list, adding your items to the collection.
“Something pink,” he muttered, his eyes flicking around the room, searching.
Your heart lurched. There was nothing in sight.
Then you gasped, triumphant. Hooking your thumbs under your top, you slipped your bra down your arms in one smooth motion, tugged it free through one sleeve, and dropped the scrap of pink lace into his hand.
His jaw flexed, eyes darkening as his fingers curled around the fabric, warm from your body.
“Pink,” you said, breathless with victory. “Told you we’d win.”
Behind you, Walker let out a bark of shocked laughter. Yelena whistled.
But all you could feel was the heat in Bucky’s gaze, the way his thumb stroked once over the delicate strap before tossing it onto the pile.
“Winner, winner chicken dinner!” Alexei shouted.
Bucky leaned in, for only you to hear. “That’s one hell of a way to win a game, doll.”
You smirked victoriously. “I don’t hear you complaining.”
This was the winner! Either would have been an excellent choice tbh, I think you're going to love them both! Game Night will be posted on Wednesday 🤗
Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader
Warnings: none of note
Word Count: 666 😈
Escalating Events Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist
The mission had gone to shit.
Even worse, you'd been the lead, taking Ava and Walker with you.
Disappointed and frustrated with yourself, you hadn't even bothered going to say hello to anyone. You'd gone straight to your room.
You'd sat on the floor of the shower in tears, hoping the running water would mask the sound.
You didn't venture out until you knew everyone would be in their room. Sleep escaped you anyway, and you were hungry.
Dim light spilled into the hallway from further down, you cursed John for leaving it on.
It hadn't occurred to you that Bucky would still be up.
Sprawled on the couch with one arm behind his head and the other holding a worn paperback.
“Made you a sandwich,” he said quietly without looking up from the book.
You froze with your hand on the refrigerator door handle.
“You did?”
“Only just. It's fresh.”
“How did you -”
“Heard you give up on sleep, figured it was because you were hungry.”
“Oh.” That super soldier hearing again.
You took the plate over to the couch and sat at the opposite end, he shifted his feet to give you space.
“Heard it didn't go so well,” he said carefully.
You chewed thoughtfully around gem lettuce, turkey and mayonnaise. “S'a good sandwich. Thank you.”
He didn't push it. Just read on in silence.
Once you'd pushed the plate onto the coffee table, you waited, studying your hands.
He finished his page and set the book down on his chest.
“The floorplans were out of date,” you muttered, not looking up.
“It happens. That's not on you.”
“I pushed on anyway. I put them in danger.”
“Walker? C'mon, he puts himself in danger. And Ava can take care of herself.”
You sighed heavily. “Why'd Lena put me as lead?”
He didn't hesitate, “I told her to.”
He sounded so sure, so unwaveringly certain.
You looked up at that. At the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath fluttering the book pages. The curve of his bicep curling behind his head.
“I wasn't ready.” You hated how your voice wobbled.
“You are. But next time, if you want me to go with you, just say so.”
“Yeah?”
“No more crying in the shower.”
“You heard that?”
“Told you, I hear lots of things when I chose to.”
“I think we need to stop talking about the things you hear happening in my room.”
He smirked. “Now where's the fun in that, sweetheart? You ready to sleep now?”
You shrugged. You were, but you weren't. You wanted to sit right there with his knee nudging your thigh with each breath, with the tension you both refused to name simmering underneath you, threatening to drag you under.
“What're you reading?”
“Dr Zhivago. You ever read it?”
“Not for years. I tried reading it in Russian once.”
“Oh yeah?” He grinned, “how'd that go?”
“Badly. Don't ever ask me to translate - not that you'd need to. You'll just end up with a recipe for borscht.”
“Don't tell Alexei but I actually like his borscht.”
You mimed zipping your lips. “Mind if I sit here for a bit?”
He sat upright, stretching his arms up, his t-shirt lifting. “Of course not.”
Without you asking - without you needing to ask - he started reading aloud. “Their love was great. Most people experience love without becoming aware of the extraordinary nature of this emotion. But to them - and this made them exceptional - the moments when passion visited their doomed human existence like a breath of eternity were moments of revelation, of continually new discoveries about themselves and life…”
As he read, you moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes closed, lulled by the deep rumble of his voice.
His arm snaked around you, warming you up and pulling you to tuck in against him.
You woke up in your own bed. The blanket tucked tightly around you and his copy of Dr Zhivago on your nightstand.
Set in the same escalating events series as Towel and Toothpaste.
Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader
Warnings: none
Word Count: 556
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
Time off had been hard to come by. Valentina had you all out for days at a time, weeks even, in some cases.
Bucky had been with Ava in the mountains of Bulgaria for three weeks, you and Yelena had been down in Costa Rica for ten days.
Yours had by far been the better deal.
"- and this guy, this super hot guy, comes out of nowhere and starts spinning her -" Yelena pointed at you, "like she's on Dancing With The Stars. I don't even know where you learned to do that!"
"I didn't learn anything!" Your protest fell on deaf ears. "I spent most of the time treading on his feet!"
Ava gave you a look. "Oh please! Did you take your dance horizontal?"
You reached for one of the peaches she'd brought back from Bulgaria - bigger than a tennis ball - your hand barely fit around it.
Across the kitchen, Bucky looked up from writing his report.
"That," you took a bite, "is none of your business. Oh, shit!"
Your teeth pierced the fuzzy skin of the fruit and latched onto deep orange coloured flesh filled with juice.
"Told you they were good."
You sucked the peach to try and stem the juice before it ran down your hands but the thing barely fit in your palm.
Your tongue darted out to lick the trail from your wrist to your fingers.
You caught Bucky's eye, the blue of his engulfed by dark pupils. The intensity of his stare caught you off guard.
Heat flushed through you, sudden and sharp - a complete contrast to the peach in your hand. You swallowed quickly, but the sweetness lingered on your lips.
“Messy, huh?” Yelena smirked, tossing a napkin your way. You caught it without looking at her, your gaze locked stubbornly on Bucky.
He didn’t look away, he didn’t even blink.
It was a challenge, unspoken but scorching.
You raised the peach again, just to prove you could, and sank your teeth into it. Juice spilled past your fingers, sticky on your palm.
Bucky’s jaw flexed, his pen snapping down onto the table with a sharp click.
“Careful,” he said, his voice low, not for anyone else. “You keep making a mess like that, someone’s gonna have to clean it up for you.”
The air caught in your throat. Yelena kept talking on her way to the couch with Ava, but the world had narrowed down to the rasp in his voice and the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole.
You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “Maybe I don’t mind a little mess,” you managed. It sounded as light as the peach on your tongue, but felt shaky in your chest.
His mouth curved. Not a smile, not really. Something darker. Hungrier.
Before you could move, he was there - towering, close enough that his shadow fell across you. His hand closed gently over your wrist, steadying the peach still clutched in your palm.
Then, without breaking your gaze, he leaned down and sank his teeth into the fruit just above your fingers.
For one devastating second, his stubble brushed your fingers, his lips dragging too close.
He chewed, swallowed, and grinned like a wolf. “We adding this to the list of things neither of us is talking about?”
