Reader x Bucky Barnes Oneshot
Summary: Stark assigned Bucky to watch over you during a small assignment. Unexpectedly, the two of you are forced to stay on the mission longer than expected. smut,and a little mischief.
Author’s Note: still new at writing, here’s some Bucky fluff I wrote at 5am ✦
You took your days off very seriously. The work of a Shield agent was not for the weak, and it was extremely rare to be at Stark Tower with nothing to do on a Tuesday night. In fact, it felt way too calm.
Deciding to make the best of your time you grab a can of beer from the communal fridge knowing you hadn’t bought it but, hey, no one was around, you cracked it open and took the first sip. Immediately, the shuffle of heavy footsteps approached.
“Hey, Stark asked me to-” the tall brunette started.
You made eye contact with the tall and muscular man standing in front of you.
“Is that my beer?” He said while pointing at your hand.
“Um…” caught red-handed, still in your pajamas, and suddenly very aware of it. Bucky raised an eyebrow, tone calm, expression unreadable. “You can just ask next time.”
“Right, sorry, just thought no one was around,” you said quickly, clearing your throat and setting the can down on the marble counter.
Of all people to interrupt your quiet night, Bucky Barnes wasn’t who you expected, but you couldn’t exactly say you minded. You’d been working with the team for months, but the two of you had never really talked. Trying to shake off the awkwardness, you asked, “So, what brings you here unannounced?”
“Stark wanted you to pull some intel on the Hydra hideout we found yesterday,” he replied, voice low and steady. “He sent me to go with you.”
You blinked, trying to process. “Wait- you mean now? It’s an empty hideout. What does he want me to do, Barnes, interrogate dust?”
Bucky seemed uninterested by your mediocre jokes. “Orders are orders.”
You scoffed. “Right, so Stark knows the room is empty, and you’re here as what- my babysitter?” He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t call it that.”
“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”
“Look, you have a track record of getting yourself into trouble,” he said, eyes flicking from your pajama pants to your bare feet. “I can see why Stark’s concerned.”
You raised a brow. “Are you judging my choice of sleepwear, soldier?”
Bucky’s lips twitched, almost a laugh. “Just saying, might not be field-appropriate.”
“Oh, so you do look,” you teased, grabbing your jacket from the counter.
He sighed, shaking his head, that small grin still there, annoying, magnetic. “Come on, doll. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can get back to stealing other people’s beers.”
Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “Whatever. I’m changing, and we’re wrapping up this mission in like thirty minutes max.”
By the time you got ready and headed to the garage, Bucky was leaning against a sleek black motorcycle, gloved hands tucked in his jacket pockets. Your eyes traced the back of his hands, the way his muscles shifted under the jacket, the relaxed broadness of his shoulders. Blushing, you forced your gaze down.
He noticed. “You’re staring,” he said, voice low, teasing but calm.
“I’m… not,” you said, brushing past him as you swung your leg over the seat, pressing against his back longer than necessary.
“Hold on tight,” he said, revving the engine.
“Gosh, if I die in this thing, I’m haunting your body,” you warned, arms squeezed around his waist. “I’d expect nothing less,” he murmured, almost soft this time.
The warehouse loomed ahead, old and rusted, metal walls streaked with grime, windows broken and boarded.
“This is it?” you asked, voice disbelief more than curiosity.
“Yes, ma’am.” He produced a small, sleek key, pressed it into the lock, and the door swung open with a soft click. A musty scent of dust and old paper greeted you.
“Stark wants us to grab whatever looks important.”
You stepped inside, coughing slightly. Boots echoed on bare concrete, sunlight streaming through shattered windows, dust dancing in the beams. Old files, stacks of paper, and broken computers lay scattered.
“Random files… really, this is my assignment?” you muttered. “Damn, lame-ass missions should come with a warning.”
Bucky’s gaze swept the room. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s work. Sometimes the boring stuff matters most.”
You rolled your eyes. “Please do not give me a Steve Rogers motivational speech right now. Doesn’t suit you.”
“Noted.” He smirked, subtle, infuriating.
Scanning piles of trashed documents, your eyes drifted to his metal arm, tracing the contours beneath his gloves. Suddenly, his deep voice stopped you.
“I can feel you staring.”
Blushing, you cleared your throat and pretended to look busy.
After hours of searching, you were ready to leave, stretching and rolling your shoulders. “Finally. Done. Can we go home now?”
Bucky approached the door. He fiddled with the handle. “Huh… that’s odd.”
“What’s odd?” you asked, expecting a joke.
“The door… it’s locked,” he said, calmly, deadpan.
You laughed. “Bucky… seriously? You’re joking, right?”
“Seriously. Not kidding.”
Suddenly you’re hit with a wave of desperation, you make your way up to the door and meet with Bucky who keep trying to twist the small key inside the lock.
”I keep turning it but it won’t budge” He mutters while twisting the key repeatedly. You shove him aside with your arms and attempt to twist the keys, except this time you push with so much force that the small key snaps in half. “You can’t be serious” says bucky with a blank expression on his face.
The next hour and a half was spent by searching for any way out of this old room, all proving to be useless attempts, the door wouldn’t break down, the windows were shattered but not enough to fit both of you, and just as you start to loose hope you hear a loud thud across the room.
You see bucky with a dusty box of canned beer.He shrugged, glancing around. “Well, might as well make the best of it.”
“Wanna get shitfaced? Meant to be my day off anyway.” You don’t know where the sudden confidence came from to even ask such a thing to your coworker, but given the circumstance you don’t know how much longer you had to spend in a room. Ever since you met Bucky you’ve had an interest in getting to know him, this had to be your best chance.
He raised a brow. “You’re serious?”
You both cracked open cans, laughter filling the musty warehouse, teasing, bumping shoulders, stealing sips from each other’s cans.
Then, slowly, deliberately, you found yourself inching closer. Your shoulder brushed his. Your leg grazed his under the table. Every accidental touch sent a thrill through you, every glance lingering too long. He leaned in, ever so slightly, and the heat radiating from him pressed against your side.
“You know,” he murmured, voice low, “I think you’ve been staring at me more than your drink.”
“Am not,” you said, though your chest betrayed you, pounding in time with your pulse.
Bucky’s smirk deepened. He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingertips grazing your cheek. “Not even close,” he whispered. The closeness made your knees weak. And then he kissed you. Slow at first, exploratory, teasing, testing boundaries you hadn’t even realized existed. Your hands found his jacket, clutching him closer, while his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against him. Each gasp, each murmur, was a spark, igniting a fire between you.
Your lips moved against his, hungry now, demanding, sliding over his in heated rhythm. He groaned softly, pressing his body against yours, fingers tangling in your hair. You moaned quietly, the sound muffled against his mouth, heart hammering as his hands traced every curve you could reach.
Before long, the heat became impossible to contain. Bucky’s hands slid lower, gripping your hips, guiding you onto the old wooden table nearby. The rough surface pressed beneath you, cold against your skin, while he loomed over you, lips and teeth marking your neck and collarbone. You arched into him, lost in the sensation of him, the taste of beer, the warmth of his body, the danger and thrill of being caught.
He kissed you with more need, hands roaming, and you couldn’t get enough,every thrust of his hips, every whisper of his voice pressed into you, driving you wild. The warehouse disappeared, replaced by the heat and friction of skin on skin, gasps and moans filling the space between the dusty boxes and broken crates.
Just as the rhythm deepened, a metallic click echoed through the warehouse.
“Stress signal,” Steve Rogers’ voice rang out, calm but wary. “Thought I’d check on you two.”
Both of you froze mid-motion, flushed, sticky with sweat and beer, scrambling to regain composure while still pressed together in the aftermath of your reckless, desperate lust.
Bucky muttered under his breath, smirk tugging at his lips. “Could’ve warned me you were coming, Cap.”
And that was how your day off turned into one very, very memorable mission.
#bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #fluff #slow burn #forced proximity #bodyguard x guarded #drunk confessions #friends to lovers #mutual pining #stuck together trope #comfort and tension #soft celestial aesthetic #nsfw #explicit #first kiss #heated makeout #warehouse sex
