Bucky Fic - Blog Posts

Saving Grace - b. barnes

pairing; winter soldier! bucky x gender neutral! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; slight sweating, mention of a weapon/injury

word count; 1k+

summary; when you find yourself at the mercy of the infamous winter soldier, the only target that’s ever managed to outrun him, you still feel sorry for him. he’s an individual who has no free will of your own, you on the other hand, have free will. that’s what leads to you doing something you didn’t expect you would do.

links; Marvel Masterlist | Masterlist

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Chaos.

That's the only word you could describe everything you saw around you. Ruin, blazes, destruction. All of this because you were the latest mission of a long list of names for the male stood in front of you.

Your team stood scattered around, as he drew closer to you. An emotionless stare burning into you as you stood your ground not ready to give up just yet. The faint static in your earpiece was jumbled with a response from someone but you didn't care to listen.

Your body grew tired as you contemplated accepting your fate. You heard the stories for as long as you could remember. A male soldier who was the best at crossing off names. HYDRA's top weapon. The legendary Winter Soldier. You, like many, believed him to be a myth. A story made up to scare young kids into following the right path because they didn't want to end up the same way he did. Only he turned out not to be a myth, he was very much real.

"Hey, (y/n), come on! Get out of there!".

The sudden loudness made you jump slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you forgot how long you had it. The creaking of leather coming closer drew you out of your daze.

This was the day you were going to die. Sure, you had those thoughts many a time before but the people who tried to kill you in the past? This guy made them look like amateurs. At best, a child would do a better job than them.

Your eyes finally locked with the soldier's as you continued to stand your ground. Hands dropping to your sides as your weapon thudded on the concrete. You were tired. Tired of running. Tired of trying to convince yourself that this was all some crazy nightmare and you'd wake up soon.

"Fine, you win. I'm tired of this bullshit. I'm tired of running from you!".

Not once did the assassin react to your words. His gaze remained fixed on the target that had spent so long running from him. Once your name was crossed off, HYRDA would be pleased. You should have been one of the easiest for him to kill but somehow, you were the hardest one. Managing to escape his attempts to thwart you time again until he cornered you in some little city not too far from where he was told you resided. It would be over in a matter of seconds but those last few seconds to you would be the most painful you had ever felt in all of your existence.

Letting out a shaky breath you closed your eyes, enjoying the blackness before it became one of the last things your mind had seen. The assassin's kills were anything but painless, being able to rid the plant of your existence in seconds. You had your typical regrets of someone in your position. Of the life you never lived, of the life you'll never get to live. Maybe if you hadn't spent the past few months on the run, you would have lived your life to the fullest ready to accept this day. Now that it was here, you didn't want to leave.

"Just get it over with, Winter Soldier! I'm sure HYDRA will celebrate in some sick and twisted way when~".

Something caused you to look over the metal shoulder as your eyes tried to fixate on something happening. You couldn't quite make it out but yet, down in your gut, you didn't have the greatest feeling about it. Squinting you saw the faint glimmer of what your team called the best weapon in your grasp. From talking to the people who had managed to survive a shot from it, you found them to be in pain many months after. Some of the pain strong enough to make them want someone or something to finish the job off.

Piecing things together in your head, your eyes widened in horror as your legs began to move. A loud shot being fired was all you heard as you rushed forward, managing to push the assassin out of the way. The hot metal of the bullet fired piercing your shoulder as you landed with a grunt, your breathing rate increasing as you gripped the wound, hissing out at the contact. You don't know what made you move but something told you to save the soldier.

Judging by the look in his eyes, your reaction had taken him by just as much surprise as you.

Looking down, a small smile tugged at the corner of the sitting figure’s lips as they leaned over, placing a soft kiss upon the other's forehead. It had been a few years since that incident and they couldn't thank you enough for taking the first steps towards their freedom.

Sure, Bucky still had the arm given to him by HYDRA but he was planning on replacing it as soon as possible. The final piece of his horrible past as a ruthless killer. He didn't know why you had done what you had done but he was thankful. You may have been the only person to escape him for so long but maybe it was for that reason alone you had.

Cliché or not, you were his saving grace and he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. Even if it killed him in the process.

Ominous mists || POV Bucky Barnes

Summary: Former Winter Soldier isn’t sure who he really is. Struggling with the dark past and the metallic voice in his head, he tries to recoup what he had lost.

Warnings: None at this point.

Words: 548

Authors: Beast

A/N: I’ve decided to create my first Bucky’s POV story, hope y'all enjoy it.

“Who do you think you are?” Asks the voice deep inside his head.

I don’t know who am I anymore, he thinks, grinning sadly. He looks down at his metal fingers and how they’re glistening in the setting sun as he stretches them slowly.

The wind blows him straight in the face but he doesn’t mind it at all. Practically, he likes it.

He spent another day by lurking along city streets, without any particular reason. He enjoyed getting lost in the street buzz. And Bucharest was an adorable place to be lost in. The streets were saturated with the remains of communism, although the renewed parts of the city were pulsating with modernized life.

Now, he was sitting at Dâmbovița River, leaning his back against an old linden. Unexpectedly, man shivers when the same voice as before says something loudly inside his mind.

“You’re nothing, just a piece of trash that nobody has ever needed,” voice is getting louder and louder with every second.

SHUT UP!, he shakes his head. You’re not real.

This time, however, the voice doesn’t seem to disappear. “Murderer. You’ve killed so many innocent people. Who do you think you are?

He gets up from the ground and hits the tree’s trunk with metal fist several times. I am not a FUCKING MURDERER!, he screams, he doesn’t pay any attention to few people that stare at him in disbelief.

But the voice gets only louder, spreading through his mind and reaching every single part of his body. "You’re nothing but Winter Soldier, serial killer, piece of trash, the unnecessary system bug which should be removed as soon as possible. But don’t ya worry, they’re coming for ya.”

He turns head around, his hood falls almost on his eyes. He’s afraid, like an animal that got into the hunter’s trap. Are THEY really coming after him???

“Are you okay, sir?” An old woman comes to him, tilting head aside a bit. “Do you need help?”

He struggles with a will to ran. He gently pushes the woman and goes ahead but sinks onto his knees after few steps.

“MURDERER.” The voice keeps humming. “MURDERER, MURDERER, MURDERER!”

He catches his head and with the corner of the eye, he can see how people take steps back as his metal limb is revealed. But he doesn’t care of them. Man only cares to get rid of that awful voice that is pounded somewhere to his brain. He wants to be deaf at all the screams he can hear in his mind and soul, the screams of people he has killed. And these metal clang of that fucking bionic arm! It tears his personality apart. He doesn’t know anymore if he’s a human being whether a machine without emotions.

But there’s a silver lining somewhere in his heart. A familiar male voice, he doesn’t recognize it but somehow it makes that nice warmth spreads across his flesh.

“… till the end of the line…”

At the same second, the metallic voice in his head tries to be louder to deafen the male voice. But he knows the male voice either way…

Man opens his steel blue eyes widely, the last rays of setting sun make them glisten with a comprehension. He screams.

MY NAME IS BUCKY BARNES!!!

Pandies🐼: @blue-dragon-ice @calkingwood @imidarogerson @grossograsso @thewildgardensstuff @irai-lauri @leven-and-ashley @la-verdura @bearded-steve-rogers @sebbystan-plantlover @atuckyismylife @krispyjellyfishzombie @personality-within @haseki-huricihan @choppedgardenwhispers @vroobelek @lattimelka @chris-beamz @hidden-secrets69 @side-blog-of-me @purepearls @i-am-margerita @volcanoxxx @kastrup-sofie  @mikkal-akasaki  @withoutashadowofhope  @radbluebirdeagle @marvel-fan-site  @smutloversblog  @buquete  @super-psycho-love69 @tanglesss @baysidewest @vegemania @philip-stan @chodiusmmm @subwaystunnel @tykorclint @dagger-dragger @kurant @nothing-can-least-forever @oxfordkipem @deliciousbouquet90  @tuptuptup @hellenna80  @karina-marina9 @latimeriaaa  @bratko @wurld89  @scott-evans  @kiss-me-rouge @ovonel-espaniol @dancing-tacco @ratugadhi @white-tiger-shangrila @peter-sommer @axn69  @eternal-life-awaits @mrs-laura-harmon @artsy-inside @gleeeeees @darkllaama @jatut @agawux @fuzzy-tigrrr @jrjohnsson2 @cassandbeast @maaargoshaaa @dontgetmewrongman @einexx @totorosbooty @whatever-thingswillgetbetta @humifiler @nwmtagsb @secretlygrantaire @kyloren-supreme-ben @yessy2012 @infinity-stones-seeker @thehappyspider

The ending was precious 💙

"My dog ate your christmas present”  || Bucky Barnes x reader drabble

Words: 774

Warnings: none

SUMMARY: Bucky’s dog ate the present for reader. Bucky had to invent something ad hoc.

Author: Beast.

A/N: Drabble written for @caplansteverogers writing challenge. I hope you don’t mind me changing the character I was supposed to write about.

Shit, shit, shit!” Bucky was running over his room looking for something, when Steve stepped in.

„Hey, pal, what’s up?” Captain asked.

Bucky only waved his hand slightly.  “I have a problem here…” James laughed nervously. “I mean, just look at this mess”  he pointed at the corner.

Keep reading

Tbt the time I told myself I wasn’t gonna simp for men more than twice my age and then immediately fell in love with Bucky Barnes

Heavy Tipper

Summary// Camgirl sites were nothing new to Bucky, but a familiar face has him tipping heavily and requesting a private chat.

Warnings// maybe angst?, fluff, smut, video call sex, some dirty talk, mutual masturbation, Camgirl work, some taunting, roadhead (aka m receiving oral while driving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation, kinda face riding?, couple bites, light choking kink (Bucky receiving), light aftercare, fluffy morning sex,

AU// DBF!Bucky x Camgirl!Reader

Note// this is filth and I’m not gonna say sorry for it. There’s around 4 smut scenes. Oops 😅

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Sure there was a twist of guilt in Bucky’s stomach when he had discovered your live cam show, one he had ignored when he clicked the icon and tipped- heavily.

But, the guilt had surpassed by the time he requested a private chat.

It wasn’t Bucky’s first time on a website like this one. Watching live camgirls to pass the time and relieve some stress was something he did more often than he wanted to admit.

The moment he saw a familiar face in a preview his mouth went dry. Fingers hovering over the mousepad of his laptop as he debated clicking the icon.

A part of him felt guilty watching someone he’d known for three years in such a vulnerable state over the internet. Especially since he was so close with your family that there wasn’t a family gathering he’d missed in that time.

Maybe that was why he kept clicking the tip button until you gave the camera a sweet smile and said goodbye, before he gladly paid the hundred and fifty dollars for a private video call.

The moment you’d accepted the request and saw the broad chest on your screen you knew something looked familiar. The flash of a dark metal left hand and the edge of a patterned throw blanket you recognized as one you’d gifted him on Christmas, making a smile crack across your features.

Bucky Barnes with his head just out of the frame, broad shoulders and thick arms hidden behind a long sleeved shirt.

The same sweet, handsome Bucky who lightly flirted with you every chance he had. The one who the closest you’d ever been to getting a glimpse of what he looked like naked was in his swim shorts in your backyard. Who was now paying to get off with you over a cam site.

He was so caught up in looking over the lingerie set that was different than the live show previously, that he’d forgotten you were there for only him and not a full audience. A soft laugh drawing his attention back. “Gonna let me see, stud?”

His heart plummeted to his stomach when the pet name dripped from your lips like honey. Something he’d heard from you multiple times over the three years he’d been friends with your dad. But- what hurt would it do if you did know it was him?

“Uh- yeah, yeah.” He stumbled over his words, making sure to keep his face out of the frame as he leaned forward to sit his laptop on the coffee table, lifting his hips enough to shove his sweatpants down.

You couldn’t stop the soft moan that left your throat when his hand wrapped around his thick shaft, mouth starting to water just at the sight. Tip an angry red and shiny with precum as he cleared his throat, a slight flick of his wrist twisting his hand up so he could run his thumb over his leaking slit. Spreading his precum to let his hand glide easier.

Bucky didn’t know where his usual confidence had went as he listened to the blatant filth you spoke. Everything stuck on his tongue as he watched your hands roam your soft skin. Legs spread wide so he could watch your fingers plunge into your cunt, wishing he could just bury his head between your soft thighs and never move.

“Need you to talk to me- what do you wanna do?” Your seductive tone tore through him, eyes hooded with lust as you looked at your screen. Taking in the way he tugged his cock, thighs tensing when he’d twist his hand just right.

“God, fuck- wanna stuff that mouth, pretty girl.” He grunted out, gritting his teeth to ground himself until you were finished.

A breathy moan sounded through his speakers, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. “Do ya’? Looks so heavy, stud. Don’ know if it’ll fit.”

“It’ll fit- pretty pussy looks so wet bet I could slip right it.” Bucky was almost choking on his words when your head tipped back in a drawn out moan.

Seeing him in a state like this one set your entire being on fire. Bionic left gently tugging his heavy sac as he furiously fisted over himself, your mind wandering of how his large hands would feel against your skin other than the touches that maybe lasted a little too long- but you still wished would last longer.

Or how those thick thighs would feel cushioned under you, his hips thrusting up into you as his long, thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Taking what he needed and more as he took you apart.

“S’close-“ you panted out, applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit to pull the coil in your core tight enough to snap. A breathless moan feeding into the mic and through his speakers.

“Look so handsome like this,” you breathed out, riding through the afterglow.

“S-shit- gonna make me fuckin’ come, sweet girl.” Bucky knew how pitiful the whine that pulled from his throat sounded, but he couldn’t help it.

He’d never imagined you’d say anything even bordering vulgar, yet here he was jerking off over a video call with you spilling dirty thoughts from your lips like it was a normal conversation. Talking him through a body tensing orgasm as his release coated his hand and clothed abdomen in thick spurts.

He cursed under his breath as he blinked his eyes open, seeing that you were sitting straighter in front of the camera with a proud smile.

“Hope to see you on here again, handsome.”

Bucky was going to try his hardest not to get too flustered over the belated birthday celebration at your dad’s. Having a beer with him in the kitchen when he heard the from door opened.

“Sorry, I’m late- happy late birthday, stud.” You chirped, gift bag in one hand as your free arm went around his neck for a hug.

“Thanks, sweets.” He chuckled, hand resting on your lower back as you pulled away. “We just ordered food. So, you’re not too late.”

“Perfect timing actually.” Your dad chimed, taking a long drink from his beer.

“This is for you.”

Bucky eyed the bag you held out for him before narrowing his eyes at you. “Thought we agreed on no gifts.”

“Like you can actually expect me not to bring you a birthday gift.”

Bucky’s close proximity was driving you nuts, especially after the night before.

His lingering touches and wandering eyes making your heart race over dinner, his breath fanning your jaw and lips nearly touching the shell of your ear when he leaned in to crack a joke.

As you stood at the sink washing the dishes, you could feel his body heat radiating into your back when he stood behind you. Towering over you as his heavy left hand landed on your waist and he leaned down to talk to you.

“Come out for a smoke with me?” He asked, a suggestive tone hidden in his voice.

“I don’t smoke, you know that.” You laughed lightly, turning to face him as his hand dropped back to his side. A smirk curling the corner of his lips.

“Keep me company.”

Nodding, you followed him towards the back patio. “I know you were the one in my private chat last night, Buck. The arm made it pretty obvious.” You said once you’d slid the patio door shut, Bucky glancing at you through his eyelashes as he lit his cigarette.

“You’re not mad?” He murmured, exhaling the grey smoke.

“Well… you single-handedly paid half of my rent last night, so.” You shrugged, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to tug him closer. Looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “How long have you been watching?”

“Last night was the first time.” He took another long drag from his cigarette, looking at the cherry at the end. “A part of me wants to feel bad, because of your dad. But… I can’t even force myself to. Like- I knew you were gorgeous, but goddamn you’re a fucking goddess.” He huffed out, heat burning your cheeks as you looked up at him.

“I mean… just look at you. So cute and precious, but you’ve got a filthy mouth on you, sweets.” Your stomach flipped at his words, large hands caressing your waist before slipping down to grip your backside. “I just wanna fucking ruin you.”

“Gonna tell me what you’re gonna do to me while we’re on my dad’s patio? During you’re birthday celebration?” You teased, slipping your fingers under the hem of his t-shirt to feel the taut muscles that laid under smooth skin. “Not something that someone would do to their best friend.”

He groaned quietly, leaning down to talk in your ear. “Don’t shame me for wanting to fuck you senseless. I’d make you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

You whimpered, quickly covering it with a light laugh. “Where was all that talk last night, stud? You were wrecked for me and I never even touched you.”

His grip tightened on your ass to pull you closer. “Keep running that mouth I’ll fulfill that promise of stuffing it.” His tone was low and sultry, plucking something deep in your core as arousal pooled in your underwear.

“You’re the one who paid for me to get you off. Bet you make the cutest faces when you come.” You tested, getting a huff in response.

“Let’s see if you can keep that attitude when I’m done.”

You were quick to gather your things and head to the door once Bucky had finished his cigarette. Poking your head in the living room door where you dad was watching the tv. “Buck is giving me a ride home. Saves me money on a cab.”

“Alright, hun. Be safe- drive safe.” He gave Bucky a pointed look as a heavy hand rested on your upper arm.

“Gotta be a responsible driver with such precious cargo.” He joked, pulling the front door open.

“Drive safe, I mean it!” Your dad called as you walked out, getting a thumbs up in response.

Anticipation bubbled in your stomach during the drive as you leaned your forearm on the armrest. Turned to face Bucky as your fingers danced along the seam of his jeans, gradually creeping closer to the hardened bulge until you caressed it through the straining fabric.

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightened when you gave him a light squeeze, chest heaving as he tried to focus on the road. “You’re already rock hard. Bet I could get you off before we even get to your house.”

He let out a dark chuckle, right hand moving from the shifter to prod at his belt and unfasten his pants. “Better get to work then.” He murmured, holding the back of your head as you slipped his erection out of the front of his briefs.

Bucky had to will himself to keep his eyes open when your lips wrapped around him, choking back a groan and gripping your hair as your head bobbed.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable, but the rewarding sounds that filled the small space made every second worth it. His hips rolling up slightly to push further into your mouth, left hand gripping the steering wheel so tight it would be surprising if there weren’t dents where his fingers were.

Luckily there was a red light when the swirling pressure started to crest higher, Bucky’s hand urging you further down in him until your throat constricted around him and hot spurts of his release flooded your taste buds. A drawn out moan vibrating from his chest as his head rested back against the headrest, riding out the aftershocks with gentle rolls of his hips until you pulled away. Cock still twitching as he grabbed your chin in his hand, smashing his lips to yours.

You traced your fingertips over his softening cock as his tongue slipped into your mouth, moaning at the taste of himself lingering on your tongue.

“Told ya’.” You smiled against his lips, his fingers digging further into your cheeks.

“Sweets, your pretty cunt probably can’t take me. Stop being a brat.”

Once Bucky had finally pulled into his driveway, you could feel a nervous twist in your stomach. Not one that made you want to back out, but one that added to the excitement that had your heart pumping since the talk on your dad’s patio.

“You’re clean right?” You asked as you guided Bucky’s shirt up, backing him to the bed as he slipped it off over his head.

“Of course.” He nodded, discarding his jeans and boxers before a hand pressed to the center of his chest urged him onto the bed. Laying on his back, propped on his elbows as he watched you strip the rest of your clothing off and climb on top of him as gracefully as you could. Sitting on his lower abdomen.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin as his hands caressed your sides, ghosting over your breasts to cradle your jaw in his fingers. Pulling your lips down to his in a sweet, tender kiss. Your hands exploring the expanse of his thick chest, feeling every dip under your fingertips as a shiver rolled down his spine from the delicate touch.

A surprised squeak left your throat when he rolled to hover over you. Soft lips and scratchy facial hair tracing your skin as he kissed his way down your neck and chest, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast until you let out a squeal and tried to squirm away.

“Sorry,” Bucky chuckled, soothing over the fresh mark with his tongue before continuing his path down. Pressing your thighs further apart as your twisted his short hair between your fingers. Heart thumping in your chest as he moved your thighs to rest on his shoulders and teased everywhere besides where you needed him.

“James, don’t tease.” You groaned, trying to buck your hips to meet his mouth before his bionic left arm draped over your stomach to hold them down.

“M’not teasing, just appreciating.” He breathed out, grazing his teeth along your inner thigh until a needy whine poured from your lips and you squeezed his hair.

You swore you were already teetering on the edge, that the moment you felt his warm tongue against your throbbing clit you’d turn to putty in his hands.

And you weren’t completely wrong-

But, Bucky wasn’t stopping at just one. His mouth not lifting from your cunt as you tried to squirm from his hold, aftershocks never seeming to stop the twitches of your body.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to push him away or keep grinding your hips against his sinful mouth. Lust blown eyes locked on the fucked out look on your face as he nuzzled his face closer, gently shaking his head as your fingers pulled his hair to the point of pain that only made his cock twitch against the mattress.

Your thighs squeezing around his head as you screamed out his name, another body writhing orgasm surging through you as you absentmindedly rode his face. The groan that vibrated against your cunt only adding to the shocks of bliss.

“Fuck, Bucky…” you panted, throat scratchy from the countless highs he pulled from you in less than an hour as he finally lifted himself from between your thighs. Lips shiny with your arousal as he gave you a cocky grin.

“Even sweeter than I imagined.” He breathed out, fisting over himself to relieve some of the ache. “Need’a minute?”

You nodded softly, leaning up to latch your lips to the base of his throat. Hand holding the back of his neck as he let out a content sigh when your other went down to trace along the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock.

“Seeing you tug your cock last night was the best thing I’d seen all week, stud.” You teased, the throaty chuckle that sounded from him making you clench around nothing as his hand replaced yours. Swollen head slipping through your folds.

“Still got that attitude.”

You gasped out when he fully seated himself in your oversensitive walls in a fluid thrust, a guttural moan filling your ears as you tried to adjust to the sudden stretch in the brief time he gave before setting a ruthless pace.

“This cunt is heaven-“ he groaned, gripping your waist as he sat up more. Watching how you stretched around him. His pace bordering brutal as you screamed out for him, hands gripping and clawing at whatever smooth, sweat slicked skin they could reach. Supple flesh of your chest bouncing with each punishing snap of his hips.

Your mind was a floating mess, only able to focus on the delectable pleasure that coursed through you from how perfectly he was splitting you open. Your eyes peaking open to watch his blissed out features- jaw slack to let almost pornographic moans fall out and chest slick with sweat as he fucked into you.

The soft clink of his dog tags being drowned out by the salacious sound of skin slapping and the squelch of your cunt. Your shaky hand reaching up to hook your fingers in the chain, tugging him down to you for a sloppy kiss. Swallowing moans and sharing breaths as your hand slipped up to wrap around his neck and apply a little pressure to the sides.

It took Bucky off-guard, but only added to the building pleasure in his abdomen. Managing to move his fingers to your clit as he found the spot in your walls that pulled the most reactions and fucked into it.

Over and over until an orgasm hit him so hard he thought he was going to black out for a moment. Holding himself up on his left forearm as he pushed as deep as he could and spilled into you. Your teeth digging into his bottom lip and nails carving down his back as you rode through your own.

Taking a minute to gather his bearings and blink away the stars in his vision, Bucky slowly pulled away. Heart beating so hard and fast he thought it would pound out of his chest if he moved too fast.

The shocks of bliss were still wracking through you as he slipped from between your thighs. Smooth metal and warm flesh hands caressing over your form as you draped your forearm over your eyes.

“You okay? Need anything?” Bucky silky voice was barely audible over the dull ring in your ears as you shook your head. Relishing in the way he was making over you as you came down from the final mind blanking high.

Gently massaging your thighs as he looked you over, so gorgeous and fucked out. Skin radiant with the post orgasm glow as you laid bare in front of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl. A hot shower will help.” He cooed, carefully helping you up and out of bed. Biting back a chuckle as you stood on wobbly legs.

But even the deep ache in your abdomen didn’t stop your teasing tone. “Knew you looked handsome when you come.”

Your body was still sore as you shifted around in the comfortable bed, the shower from the first round not stopping another two before both of you tapped out from exhaustion.

Bucky’s bare form was pressed in close from behind as you looked over your shoulder. Being met with a kind smile and those enchanting blue eyes as he laid on his side, propped on his elbow.

“Watching me sleep like a creep?” You teased as he grazed his knuckles along your upper arm. Earning a quiet laugh from him.

“Wore me out last night. Don’t think I’ve gone three times in one night in years.” He hummed, pressing his fingertips under your jaw for you to tilt your head back before tilting his head and locking your lips with his for a brief kiss. “Be nice if we could do this again.”

“Maybe we can.” You mumbled, barely shifting your hips to press against his half-hard cock.

“I think I have one more in me- what about you?” He suggested, hand going to grip the outside of your thigh.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Can just slip in how we are right now.” Bucky breathed out, hand slipping up to grope at your chest and erection pressing into your ass.

“What are you waiting for then, lover boy?” You purred, feeling his hand go between you before his tip prodded your already slick folds.

It was more intimate than the night before- hips slowly rolling into you as he grunted quietly in your ear. Gradually urging your front to the mattress until his sturdy frame was waving over your, stomach brushing your back as he started to grind into your ass. Staying buried deep to keep his tip pressed into the sweet spot furthest in your walls until you reached a breathless orgasm.

“Feels s’perfect being inside you. Don’ want anyone else now.” You whined at the slip of words, hand reaching back to grip the supple flesh of his ass as he filled you with his spend again before pulling away. Fingers grazing along your spine and a tender kiss pressed to your shoulder.

“You wanna be mine, sweets?”

—————

@duchessoftheheart @uhhnahhthnx @magicaleternal @cwbucky @marvel-3407 @thefallenbibliophilequote @goldylions @rbookgirl23 @missusbarnes-rogers @auriel187 @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @littlemissthistle @cupcakehinch @chunky-yet-funky @thegirlnextdoorssister @emmywinningengineer @spideysimpossiblegirl @treatbuckywkisses @simplyparker

SILVER ➳ BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

➳ summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can't stay away.

➳ pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader

➳ warnings: will feature smut, suggestive themes, angst, age gap; Reader is 20, Bucky is 30

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

C H A P T E R S

➳ one

➳ two

➳ three

➳ four

➳ five

➳ six

➳ seven

➳ eight

➳ nine

➳ ten

➳ eleven

➳ twelve

➳ thirteen

➳ fourteen

➳ fifteen

➳ sixteen

L I N K S

➳ spotify playlist

➳ the color collection masterlist

➳ If you love SILVER, check out my original fic on Wattpad; MY SWEETEST ADDICTION

When your fall in love with your flatmate

The second part of my fic: When your flatmate is a jerk

Warning: Smut, explicit sex

(Eng is not my first language.)

After patching things up with James you became good friends. In the end, nothing happened between you two, and you decided to bury in the back of your mind those feelings that your flatmate waked in you. If there was sexual tension between the two of you, you both decided to ignore it. That was easier than trying to figure out where that unusual relationship could lead. 

In the time you had been friends you discovered a playful and childlike James. When he genuinely smiled his eyes sparkled and he looked so soft that your heart could melt. Also the coming and going of women had stopped and on nights when the ex-soldier couldn't sleep you would set up a fort in the living room and watch movies until you fell asleep, ending up always waking up in your own bed the next morning.

Over time you had come to realize that what was really going on was not that James couldn't sleep but that he was afraid to do it. When he closed his eyes the war came back and nightmares haunted him. It only happened once but Barnes was very tired and you were watching a documentary which he found very boring. He fell asleep and before you knew it his body was shaking, his fists were clenched and he was sweating. You tried to wake him up and when you finally did, what you saw broke your heart, James' eyes tinged with terror. “Shhh, you are here.” you whispered trying to calm him down. You tried to touch him but he shunned you as if your skin burned. 

"I'll go take a shower..." he blurted out as if nothing had happened and before you could say anything else he disappeared. You never commented on what happened and James never fell asleep again. He always did something to prevent it and you were well aware of it. 

Sometimes you realize that James was still keeping secrets like the card you found while you were doing laundry. It was all wet and crumpled but still readable. It looked like a support group for war veterans. You were happy for him but also hurt that he didn't tell you anything about it. Well, it's not like he had to do it but still... You spent the rest of the day thinking about it, you wanted James to trust you in the same way you had trusted him by telling him about your life and problems. Yes, maybe he wasn't the same as you, but you weren't just flatmates, you were… friends… 

At dinnertime, you were distracted and Barnes was quick to notice. That night it was your turn to cook dinner and you had left the fridge open, you almost burned the vegetables you were cooking and it was impossible to keep a conversation with you. 

Those blue eyes could read you as an open book and he was pretty sure that something was off. "Anything happened today?” he didn't take long to ask you, beating around the bush wasn't his thing. You were so caught off guard that the plates in your hands fell off. You immediately bent down to pick them up and cut yourself on one of the broken pieces. 

“Fuck…” you sobbed on the verge of tears, not because it hurted, but because you realized that your friendship with James was not enough for you. He rushed over to you and before you could react he sat you on the counter and pulled out the first aid kit. He was nervous, you could tell by how quickly his eyes scanned your body for more cuts. 

"What's wrong with you today?" You didn't know how to answer him, whether to tell him the truth or leave it alone. You ended up bursting into tears, causing the blue-eyed man to panic even more. It was a childish, snot-filled cry. "Look at me." James pleaded, trying to calm you down "Tell me what's going on, please." With no idea what to do, he started rubbing your back and wiping away the tears that kept coming. Crying prevented you from speaking and you could only fall even more in love with the man in front of you. He was so worried about you that it hurt you not to be able to give him the answer he wanted. "Maybe are you… on one of those days?." he tried to ask gently, not wanting to offend you.  You couldn't help but laugh through your tears. 

"No..." you murmured, losing yourself in his blue eyes. "The problem…. is that I think… I'm in love with you." you confessed, terrified of losing the warmth of that man. James blinked a couple of times in confusion, he was still processing your confession. 

"Are you crying because you're in love with me?” He wanted to be sure of what he had heard. You just nodded, unable to repeat those words. "Do you want to kill me with a fucking heart attack?" he breathed in relief. He cradled your face in his hands and put his own at your eye level. "You idiot..." he pressed his forehead to yours. "I thought something bad happened." You were so close that his scent surrounded you and his breath when he spoke brushed your cheeks. 

"I think falling in love with a flatmate is bad enough..." You tried to fake a smile but you only managed to make a grimace. 

"But what if that flatmate is also in love with you?" he whispered in your ear before burying you in his arms, unable to meet your gaze. Your heart was racing and the tears stopped, suddenly your face turned red and your palms started sweating. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? 

"You're shaking..." Barnes let out a small laugh and you noticed the weight of his head on top of yours. 

“Whose fault do you think it is?” You tried to free yourself from his embrace but his strength far outweighed yours. Then you realized that your face was at the level of his chest and his heart was racing. "You don't look any better..." you answered back. "And that's your fault..." he sighed. 

Argh... You wanted to see his face so badly. Lose yourself in his blue eyes... Kiss him... "Let me see your face..." you begged. Your hands scratching his back weakly. You were desperate to feel all of him. Then you had an idea... You were still sitting on the countertop and you took advantage of the situation to wrap your legs around him and close the little distance that remained between you. 

"Don't play with fire, y/n." he gasped as he brushed against you. 

"But you just said…" you put your arms around him, trying to win him over. 

"If it were up to me I'd make you mine right now..." you noticed how her voice sounded desperate. "But then there'll be no turning back..." You understood what he meant because it was the same fear you had. But it was even more painful not to have it than to try and have it not work. "You're not going to lose me, whatever happens between us." you let him know. "But we can’t stay like this forever…" you scoffed at the situation. 

Your words had an effect and James' grip relaxed, you could finally look at him... His pupils were dilated and his mouth slightly ajar. "Fuck, you're beautiful." he smiled tenderly. His big hands slid over your back, one ended up on your waist and the other on the back of your neck. "I'm going to kiss you..." he announced "And you're not going to be able to get rid of me from now on.". A nervous laugh escaped you "Is that a promise or a warning?"  James lost all the little willpower he had left and crashed into your lips. "A promise for sure." his kisses were eager and intoxicating, your whole body reacted to him. There wasn't a nook that didn't crave his touch. 

You both clung to each other as if you were afraid the other would disappear at any moment as if even all the time in the world wasn't enough to quench the longing you had for each other.  “Fuck…” you both gasped into each other's mouths, which caused you to grin like dorks at the coincidence.  That kitchen was getting too small and the clothes were starting to get in the way. 

“Is this all we are going to do?” You said burying yourself in James' neck, leaving little kisses. Your hands slipping under his clothes, enjoying the heat emanating from James' body. You couldn’t wait anymore.

“What else do you want to do?” Barnes teased you by squeezing your thighs and bringing you even closer to him. You knew he needed you as much as you needed him, his erection wasn’t going unnoticed under his jeans. You tried to touch it but James stopped you by grabbing your wrists. “What's the hurry? I asked you a question.” he smiled mischievously. 

“But you know exactly what I want.” you gave him your most powerful puppy eyes.  “And you want it too…” 

You were not lying, he was craving for you since the day he almost lost you for that jerk, the day that he almost kissed you but he chickened because you made him feel something for the first time since he left the army. “You have no idea…” he sighed in defeat. After all the shit and madness he saw in the war, you were the light at the end of the tunnel, so beautiful and special that he was afraid to ruin it, to end up hurting you. 

He kissed you with so much tenderness that took you by surprise as if you were to break into his arms. You could feel his love in every kiss, you didn’t need to hear those words. He was telling you with all his body. Without stopping kissing you for a second, he took you to your room. It was the first time he crossed the threshold while you were awake, hundreds of times he had taken you to bed but never like this. You lost track of time and space, all you could think about was James, his blue eyes, the jaw that clenched every time one of your clothes fell to the floor. With his mouth, he worshiped every part of your body and while you were still standing in front of your bed he knelt before you and sunk his face into your stomach. Your smell was addictive, your skin tasted like honey. He continued down until he reached the edge of your panties. Your wetness did not go unnoticed, you had been dreaming about it for so long that for a second you were terrified to think it was all a dream. But the little kisses and nibbles inside your thighs made it clear you weren't dreaming. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. He didn't think twice and threw off the cloth that separated him from your core. You gasped, the image of James between your legs was more than you could ever imagine. “You are perfect…” he purred less than an inch from your cunt and you could only bury your fingers in his hair, biting your lip in anticipation. He gave you a last look before taking care of your needy clit, her eyes were completely black. 

“Fuck.” He knew what he was doing. His tongue traveling up and down between your lips, focusing on your clit. Your wetness helping him when his fingers decided to join and help in his aim to make you cum like never before. 

You could no longer stand on your feet, your legs were shaking too much and James' body could no longer hold you up. He stopped leaving you hungry but it didn't take him long to put you on all fours on the bed and bury himself again between your legs. In that position you couldn't see him but you could feel his hands on your ass caressing it. “Please, James…” you moaned. You wanted to feel him inside you, ending with that feeling of longing. 

“Again without asking properly.” He turned you over like it was nothing and sat down on the bed. "Maybe you want to show me what you want to do." You didn't even think about it for a second, you laid him down on the bed and got on top of him. You knew how to play too. 

***

His calm breathing gave you peace, you felt a certain pride in thinking that maybe his nightmares knew that someone was watching over his sleep and had decided to give him a truce, at least for that night. A tender smile came over your face, James sleeping like a baby was an image you could burn into your forehead and never tire of.

"Do I have something on my face?" his still half-asleep voice was low and somewhat raspy.

You felt embarrassed, you didn’t expect to be caught drooling over him so soon, at least not at the beginning of your relationship. Wait… Relationship? Was it real? You and he were a thing? Would James be a long-term relationship guy? His track record didn't play in his favor, but the night before he had told you he loved you too. That had to mean more than a one-night stand. 

“Morning.” you murmured a little bit anxious, your own thoughts running like crazy, but then he kissed you on the forehead, sweet and slow. 

“Morning.” he smiled at you, his eyes full of love. “Hope you slept well…”

Then you realized there was shyness in James' words, you weren't the only one who felt vulnerable at a time like that.

“Better than ever.” You smiled back and gave him a quick kiss on his lips. 

“That makes two of us.” he seemed to relax and in that moment you knew he was not playing, that was real. “Oh, now that I remember. I wanted to tell you last night but things got out of hand.” he squeezed against his chest. “I'm going to start a veterans' support group. I ran into a friend from then and he told me that he was running one.” 

You didn't expect him to tell you, in the end, last night was all due, a little bit, to that. You felt stupid. If only you had given him the time... Well, maybe you wouldn't have ended up in his arms and surrounded by his scent. 

“You deserve it.” your hand found his, and intertwined fingers. 

“Yes… I think it’s time to face the past and focus on my future.” he kissed you again this time on the nose. You were excited to face the future with him…

The Greatest Gift of All

(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

*

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town. 

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky. 

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning. 

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out. 

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast. 

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

*

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief. 

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being. 

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now? 

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

*

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life. 

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

*

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them. 

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition. 

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her. 

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

Piece of art 💓🦇

unsolved masterlist

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse.

(Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, horror/paranormal elements

Disclaimer: no plot just vibes <3 it's just another banger dynamic that i loved and therefore had to write a garbage fic about. This is, in no way, a literary masterpiece so just be warned.

Here’s my Ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Small Circles

Summary : Bucky Barnes is still getting used to modern dating… and hates that you have to work with your exes.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x vigilante!reader (she/her)  / ex!various MCU anti-heroes/vigilantes x ex!reader

Warnings/tags : jealous!Bucky. Bi!Reader Hurt/comfort. Injury, references to violence, sex references. Reader used to be an anti-hero, and also used to date a lot of anti heroes. Angst/Fluff!!!!

Word count : 7.7k

Note : Retroactive jealousy is very common, and I definitely struggled with it when I first started dating my partner. I don’t really see it solved healthily in fiction, so I thought I’d write about it. I just finished moving in, so I will resume my series writing soon! And please, if you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes didn’t talk about his exes.

For one, they were from a time when women wore red lipstick like armour and wrote love letters to the men who might not make it back home. Two, in the 1940s, talking about past relationships was basically the equivalent to hanging your dirty laundry out in the street— and not just because most of them ended with him shipping out to war. Sex and feelings simply didn’t belong in polite company.

But here he was, in the 21st century, trying to navigate dating after missing eight decades of social evolution— trying to keep up with you. 

And god, he hadn’t stood a chance from the moment you first met.

You were the first person he met post-pardon that didn’t look at him like the sum of his past. Sam introduced you at a bar in D.C.—nothing fancy, just three tired veterans nursing drinks and pretending the world wasn’t still spinning out of control.

“She’s an old friend,” Sam said. “Used to serve with me in the air force. Then she went off grid and disappeared to be an antihero—”

“Vigilante,” you corrected, scoffing.

“Whatever,” Sam rolled his eyes, “But she’s retired now.”

“You’re prettier than the photos.” You gave Bucky a once-over. “Grumpier, too.”

He blinked, thrown off by how casual you were, and before he could respond, you leaned in and asked, “You always look like someone stole your puppy, or is that just for special occasions?”

Sam just laughed and walked off to grab another round, leaving Bucky staring at the woman who didn’t flinch when he said “Winter Soldier” like it was some contagious disease.

Instead, you talked and talked through the night. At one point, he was talking about his brainwashing, and you just leaned your elbow on the bar, eyes on his metal hand, and said, “I’ve done worse.”

It was the first time someone didn’t try to talk him out of his guilt. You didn’t say he was “more than his past.” 

You didn’t try to fix him. 

You just looked at him and recognised the survivor with blood under his nails and scars that never faded.

That night, he walked you home. It was supposed to be a formality, but you talked the whole way, about the desert missions you and Sam survived, about the ops you ran without orders, about why you quit the military, and the blurry line between heroes and people who did what had to be done.

“Why’d you retire?” he asked at your door.

“After the Blip, I helped the Avengers out. Did some good. Got tired of seeing my hands stained red, even when it was for the right reasons.” You shrugged.  “Figured if I couldn’t die, I might as well live. Got a nice place. Set up offshore accounts. Now I make pancakes and talk to my plants.”

He smiled. 

“What about you, Barnes?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe. “You ever get tired of the life?”

Fuck, he hadn’t flirted in decades. He wasn't even sure if he still knew how anymore. 

But with you, it was easy. It was awkward at first, sure, but you laughed every time he stumbled, and you never once made him feel like he was too broken to try.

He brought you flowers a week later. 

Tulips. 

He had said he read somewhere that they meant forgiveness. You didn’t ask who he was forgiving.

“I’m not afraid of your past,” you told him one night, sitting on the floor of your living room after Sam convinced him to take you out on a date. “Not when I’ve got one that would make priests faint.”

He looked at you then, and the walls he’d spent so many years building fell all at once, because you weren’t someone he had to hide from. 

You weren’t afraid of the blood on his hands, because you’d seen it on your own.

So you became a couple. 

Three years later, he still couldn’t believe how easily you loved him.

You were loud where he was quiet, open here he was closed— a perfect balance. 

You called his name like it wasn’t borrowed from another lifetime. And for the first time, he wasn’t just surviving— he was healing. 

He was planning a future. 

With you.

And then… Sam had to drag you back into the field.

That’s when everything started to unravel.

See, Sam had said it would be one mission.

"Just a quick assist," he told you, sliding a file across the table while Bucky sat beside you, arms crossed and already suspicious. "No big commitment. We just need someone who knows how to hit hard and get out clean. I know what you’re capable of,” Sam leaned back and crossed his arms, “And this has your style written all over it.”

“This isn’t just a mission,” You raised an eyebrow, flipping through the folder and studying the requirements. “This is a clusterfuck.”

“That’s why we need you,” Sam fogged. “Come on, for old times’ sake.”

You said yes. 

Later that night, Bucky looked at you like Sam had handed you a grenade. “You’re retired.”

You smiled sadly. “It’s just one job, Buck.”

And at the time, you meant it. 

You really did. 

You had an house together, the pancakes and the plants. 

You had Bucky. 

You had a life.

But then you got out there again—suited up, boots in the dirt, heart pounding like it used to—and it was like a switch was flipped in you.

Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

You weren’t craving chaos or the violence. Not anymore. 

Unlike your antihero days, you didn’t kill this time. You’d made that choice before stepping onto the field. You weren’t going to be the person who solved problems with blood anymore.

But the mission lit something inside you all the same.

Perhaps it was control. Perhaps it was purpose. Or clarity. 

The world didn’t make much sense most of the time, but in the field, you knew exactly who you were.

So when you came back home after that mission—Bucky could already see it in your eyes.

“You’re going back,” he said flatly, watching you drop your gear in the hallway.

You shrugged, breathless, hair stuck to your forehead. “I mean… yeah. I missed it. But I’m not that person anymore, Buck. No killing. Just in and out. Recon only. You know the drill.”

Bucky didn’t answer. 

Because part of him was proud. You’d stepped back into that world on your terms.

But another part of him… was afraid of who you were behind the mask.

—

The first sign was Matt Murdock.

It was your and Bucky’s first mission together since you’d unretired. Sam had assigned a simple intel grab in Hell’s Kitchen. You needed a legal inside man, someone who knew the network by heart, and Sam had said, “You still got a contact in New York, right?”

That’s how you and Bucky ended up across the table from Matt in his firm, the three of you tucked into a room that smelled like paper and secrets.

From the moment you walked in, there was chemistry— it wasn’t active, nor was it inappropriate, but it was present. 

Bucky could see it in the way Matt tilted his head to the sound of your laugh, how your posture relaxed like muscle memory. It was subtle, but it was there.

“You told him,” he said with a small smile. He could hear it in Bucky’s heartbeat. “About my… other job.”

You glanced at Bucky, who was stiff beside you. “Yeah,” you said. 

Matt hummed. That told him more than it should. “You must be serious about him, then.”

You just nodded, infuriatingly calm and confident. “I am.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t trust himself to, especially because Matt’s voice was too casual when he added, “We used to be a thing, her and I.”

It wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t even smug. But it was there. As far as Bucky was concerned, it was a punchline with no joke attached.

You shrugged as the meeting wrapped, grabbing your jacket. 

“His job and crime fighting? No time for me,” you whispered an explanation on your way out. 

But it was the way you said it— the lack of apology. It was the way you weren’t surprised your old flame was part of the mission. 

“You never told me he was your ex,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. 

“We never had to meet any of my exes in retirement,” you shrugged.

That night, Bucky lay awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling while your body curled toward his. 

But all he could think about was Matt fucking Murdock—Daredevil. Lawyer by day, masked vigilante by night. Another man who had kissed you, fought beside you, known you in a world Bucky still wasn’t sure he fully belonged in.

What the hell.

This was the first time you’d fought side by side. The first time he saw how natural you were when the mask slipped back on. And suddenly, Bucky was wondering if he was the only one still trying to catch up.

—

The conversation about Yelena came over coffee. 

It was one of those late mornings, with sunlight spilling through the window of your kitchen, his metal fingers on your knee. You were sitting close, like always, thighs touching under the table, his hoodie drowning your body in a sense of safety. 

Bucky was scrolling through contacts Sam had floated for upcoming intel work, casually tossing out names. “Yelena Belova might be a good person to reach out to for our next mission. She’s low-profile, knows how to stay off the radar.”

He didn’t even look up when he said it, but you froze, coffee cup hovering in the air, just long enough for him to notice.

“Well… yeah. I haven’t seen her since…”

His head tilted slightly. “Since what?”

He tried to keep his voice neutral. But it came out just a little too sharp, like it scraped on the way out.

You hesitated, a little sheepish. “Since Paris. There was a caper. Messy one. We got out clean, but… one thing led to another.”

Oh.

He knew you were bi, so that wasn’t a surprise. But he never expected that knowledge to ever come with knowing names, too. 

Another sip of coffee wouldn’t fix the knot in Bucky’s stomach, but he took one anyway. It gave him something to do besides look at you—at the woman he’d fallen in love with, who kissed him in the dark and said “I love you” every night.

He nodded pretending it was fine. Pretending it didn’t sting.

But it did. Because it was another name from the same small, bloodstained circle of vigilantes and morally gray heroes. 

He didn’t realise how many people you’d still work with were the same people you’d trusted with your body before you ever handed Bucky your heart.

You were experienced. Not in a shameful way, but you'd lived. You’d fought and fucked and fled and loved in all the places Bucky had never dared go. And now you were here—his—but he couldn’t stop that stupid thought in the back of his head:

Where do I even fit in the story?

You reached for his hand, your thumb brushing the metal knuckles like it was second nature. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple, voice soft.

“She didn’t mean anything long-term,” you reassured him.

He wanted to believe that settled it. He wanted to lean into you, like he always did, but he froze—just for a moment. It was a childish, stupid insecurity rearing up where your warmth used to melt it down.

And Bucky hated that, even now, three years deep in love with you, he still sometimes felt like the last one to the party.

—

Then came London, and of course, Moon Knight.

It was supposed to be a clean extraction—intel swap, quick in and out. You and Bucky were working in sync like you'd done this a few times now. 

There were no hiccups, until he showed up.

You spotted him across the plaza first— casual clothes that you knew could turn into a divine suit any second, and a woman at his side. You froze instinctively, and Bucky felt it immediately.

The guy was weird in that charming, cryptic way, like he might shake your hand or break your nose, depending on what time of day it was. And you smiled at him. 

“London is always full of surprises,” you said as the man approached. You turned your attention to the two people now standing before you.

“Who am I talking to?” you asked, casual on the surface, but your eyes scanned him like they used to.

“Relax, it’s Marc.” The man gave a small, tired smile. “This is Layla.”

“Layla,” you repeated. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’re married,” Marc added.

“Good for you!” You beamed genuinely. “Seriously, never thought I’d see the day. This is my boyfriend. Bucky— Marc and I used to… date. A lifetime ago.”

Bucky gave a tight nod, hands in his pockets. “Of course you did,” he muttered under his breath.

Marc caught it. So did you. You shot Bucky a really? look, but Layla just laughed, clearly unfazed. She greeted you like she’d known about you already, because you were clearly another name Marc had mentioned.

“So… does he still talk to Khonshu in the bathroom?” you asked Layla with a crooked grin.

“All the time,” Layla said dryly. “Once, I came in to see the bathtub trashed. He said it was because of Khonshu. At least Tawaret isn’t that demanding.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, we weren’t all superheroes with government contracts,” Marc added, trying to joke, but there. “Some of us were just bleeding in alleyways hoping the gods were paying attention.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a dig. He also wasn’t sure how to respond. Was there a polite way to talk to your girlfriend’s ex who serves a moon god and still too-casual wife who served the goddess of fertility?

You tried to smooth it over, looping your arm through Bucky’s. But he was still stuck on the fact that you had dated this man—this strange, fractured vigilante with too many voices and a ring on his finger now. You’d been part of his chaos once, too.

And that he hated that Layla was okay with it, hated that Layla was secure— because fuck, if it didn’t make him feel bad. That’s who he should be. 

He shouldn’t be bothered by any of this. But he couldn't help it, he was.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel like he was the only one trying to learn how to stand still while everyone else had already danced through the fire and survived.

He was old-fashioned. He didn’t know how to joke about weird missions with exes or that time you almost died in a tomb under the Nile.

You, on the other hand, just kept moving forward. 

And Bucky loved you—but in that moment, he felt like the odd one out in a room he hadn’t realised he was still learning to walk through.

—

Then Nebula arrived on earth, as she always did every couple of years. It was a routine visit.

She talked to Sam for a while to exchange intel, but after that… the lines between work and play got blurred.

Sam had dragged you and Bucky to a rooftop bar, insisting that even people with kill counts needed to let loose. Nebula was tagging along. She wasn’t the nightlife type, but she was making an effort to try Earth customs.

So, there you were, nursing a coke, while Bucky was ordering himself another drink. 

He was watching you across the room, laughing at something Sam had said when Nebula slid in next to you.

She said no greetings. No small talk. Just a hand on your thigh and a blunt, “Are we doing this again?”

Bucky could hear that, thanks to his enhanced hearing.

You choked slightly on your drink, startled but not shocked. You swatted her hand off gently, not unkind, but firm.

“I have a boyfriend now,” you said with a smile. You tipped your head toward Bucky’s direction. “Long-term.”

She blinked, entirely unaffected. “What’s that like?”

Bucky was across the room, eyes fixed on you. His knuckles were white around his glass.

Later, when you were alone again, Bucky asked, “You…  and her?”

You curled up beside him on the couch, his vibranium arm slung heavy over your shoulders. You kissed his jaw once, then the corner of his mouth. “It was during the Blip, when she went to Earth a lot more,” you said casually, “Long-distance didn’t work. It… happened a couple times. Nothing serious.”

Bucky didn’t answer right away.

Nothing serious.

The words sat in his gut like a stone.

That was what got him. Not that it happened. Not that you’d been with someone else. He knew—internally, logically—that he wasn’t your first. But that phrase stuck like a splinter under his skin.

Nothing serious.

You said it so easily. That sharing a bed, even briefly, didn’t matter as long as it wasn’t long-term.

But Bucky came from a different world. One where people didn’t talk about past lovers. Where something like a hand on a thigh meant you were hers.

And now here he was—three years in, in love with a woman who kissed him like he hung the moon and yet casually mentioned flings with alien assassins.

He didn’t say anything that night, but pulled you in closer and let you fall asleep on his chest.

But he stayed awake long after, staring at the ceiling.

You were his peace. 

But when it came to your past, he felt like a stranger in your house. 

—

That month after, you came home flushed with mission energy, shedding your jacket before the door had even shut.

“She’s still as annoying as ever,” you said, grinning. “Yelena. She hasn’t changed. Made me climb five flights of a condemned building instead of going around because it was ‘more fun.’ See, this is why it would have never worked out between us.”

You were buzzing— adrenaline and nostalgia glowing in you. Bucky didn’t match your energy.

He stood in the kitchen silently as he rinsed a mug. You didn’t notice at first. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t think anything of it until he set the mug down so hard, it cracked down the middle.

“You ever gonna tell me how many of these people you’ve actually slept with?”

You froze mid-step. “What?”

He turned, tense as a live wire. “Every time we go out in the field, you’ve got history with someone. Is there anyone we’ve worked with who hasn’t had a piece of you?”

Whoa. Where did this come from? 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He didn’t back down. “I’m serious. Daredevil. Moon Knight. Nebula. Yelena. I can’t take two steps into a mission without watching someone look at you like they already know how you sound in bed.”

You blinked, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” he snapped. “I’m—”

“You are,” you cut in. “And possessive, apparently.”

He didn’t deny it. “I just— I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t eat at me. I walk into a room with you and wonder who the hell knows you better than I do.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling. “You never told me this bothered you.”

“Well, I didn’t know half this shit until the last few months!” he barked. “Because you’re so damn casual about it. ‘Oh yeah, we hooked up a few times,’ like it’s a joke—like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Because it didn’t, Bucky!” you shouted back. “Because none of them were you. None of them lasted. You’re the only one I gave three years of my life to, and you’re standing here acting like I cheated on you with my past.”

He didn’t respond. 

And something inside you broke a little.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” you said, smaller now. “Erase it? Lie? Pretend I lived like a nun until you came along?”

“I want to not feel like I’m sharing you with half the damn underground,” he looked down, teeth grinding.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Then maybe you should’ve picked someone from your own century.”

That landed like a slap. 

You shook your head. “We’ve got an early mission tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Without waiting for another word, you grabbed a pillow from the couch and walked down the hall.

You slept in the second bedroom that night.

You didn’t cry. But god, it hurt.

And Bucky sat awake in the kitchen for hours, guilt and resentment twisted in his chest like barbed wire, because he knew none of what he said was fair. 

But the feelings he felt were still real. And they were starting to rot.

—

In the morning, you two were so quiet still that every small sound felt amplified: the click of your knife sliding into your boot, the zip of your jacket, the dull thud of your holster being strapped across your chest.

Your movements were efficient, muscle memory from years of knowing how to armour up always kicking in.

Across the room, Bucky stood still, with his gear slung half-forgotten over his metal arm. His eyes were rimmed with red, dark bruises blooming underneath from a night without sleep, but he had a job to do, so he was awake anyway. 

“Y’know…” He finally said. “You didn’t have to sleep in the other room.”

You fastened the last strap on your thigh holster and glanced at him. “Didn’t feel like pretending we were okay.”

You saw it—the slight flinch in his muscles, the way he looked down like the floor might offer a better answer than anything in his own damn head.

“You think I don’t know we’re not okay?” he said, quieter this time. “You think I didn’t lay awake wishing I could take it back?”

“Then why’d you say it?” you snapped, finally turning to face him. 

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed it immediately. He had no excuses.

“You didn’t ask. You never asked.” You shook your head, biting down the lump in your throat. “You just… threw it in my face like it was supposed to shame me. Like I was a toy being passed around!”

He stepped forward, desperate now. “I wasn’t trying to shame you, I— I was pissed, okay? I was stupid. I saw the way Matt looked at you, and then Nebula, and—Christ—Marc—”

“They were my exes, Bucky!” You raised your voice, “what do you want me to do? Never speak to them again? I would have no help in this line of work!”

“Doesn’t matter!” he snapped, frustration boiling over. “BecauseI feel like I’m just the guy keeping your seat warm.”

You stared at him, throat tight. “That’s what you think I’m doing? Killing time?”

“No,” he said, gentler now. “No. I know you love me. I know.” His voice cracked. “But I come from a time where no one talks about this kind of stuff. Where men didn’t have to wonder how many people their girl used to patch up in back alleys and kiss between fights.”

“Well guess what, Bucky,” you said, voice trembling. “I didn’t get the luxury of going to swing bars and holding hands on Coney Island. I got blood and war and figuring out how to survive without falling apart. I didn’t know I was going to make it past 25. And then you came along. You—you, James—you made me realise some things last. And now you're throwing it in my face because what? You didn’t like the guest list to my past?”

He looked like you’d shot him.

But there wasn’t time to let the silence fester again—your comms buzzed with an urgent ping from Sam.

The mission. 

You turned toward the door.

“Let’s just get through today,” you said, voice brittle. “We’ll figure the rest out after.”

You walked out first.

And this time, Bucky followed—not because he knew what to say, but because even after everything, he couldn’t stand not being by your side.

—

The op was supposed to be easy.

But nothing was easy when you were angry.

You and Bucky moved like soldiers, but not like partners—not like you usually did. 

You were out of sync, one heartbeat off, one glance too short. One command left unsaid because your pride wouldn’t let either of you speak first.

That got you ambushed.

Suddenly, you were ducking behind crumbling concrete, the walls of the building already groaning as a blast from beneath shook the foundations.

Gunfire rained down the stairwell.

Bucky shielded you without thinking, metal arm flashing as he tore through two men, fast and efficient—but not fast enough.

A stray bullet lodged  itself in you.

You screamed.

“Goddammit!” you hissed, hand pressing to your shoulder as blood spread fast. “Fucking—shit!”

Bucky was already beside you, crouched low, blue eyes wide and terrified. “You’re hit.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

You leaned against the wall, blood soaking through your suit too fast, pooling in your glove as you applied pressure. Your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stay upright. 

“We have to move,” you growled, pushing off the wall. “Extraction’s too far, comms are jammed.”

“Then tell me where to take you,” Bucky said, already moving to sling your arm over his shoulder. “You’re losing blood.”

You paused, teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurt. You did know someone in the vicinity. “You’re gonna hate this.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You guided him three blocks through the back alleys of the city, stumbling past broken windows, flickering lights, and blood left behind like breadcrumbs. You turned down a shadowed stairwell, and at the end of the corridor was a steel door. 

You raised your good hand and knocked: four slow, two fast.

A secret code. 

Bucky stiffened beside you. “You have a safehouse down here?”

“Not mine…” you mumbled under your breath. 

The door swung open, and there he was.

Frank Castle.

Bucky had heard about him— The Punisher.

He looked at you. Then at Bucky.

Then at your shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

“I know,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “Let me in.”

Frank stepped aside immediately, grabbing you by the waist like it was second nature. Bucky’s hand was still on you. Neither man let go.

“Nice to see you, too,” Frank said with a worried frown.

Bucky followed, staring at Frank like he was a ghost come to life—except this ghost had callouses, bruises, and knew your name too well.

“You’ve got him on speed dial?” Bucky bit out.

You sank down on the battered couch as Frank pulled out a med kit and started cutting through your gear. “I said you’d hate it.”

Frank smirked without looking up. “Still dramatic, huh?”

“She’s bleeding,” Bucky growled, stepping in. “Maybe shut the fuck up and do something useful.”

“Relax, soldier.” Frank didn’t blink. “I’ve patched her up worse.”

Bucky's jaw twitched. "Worse?"

You groaned. “Please. Not now.”

But it was already too late— you could smell the testosterone and unfinished history. 

Frank’s hands were on you. Bucky’s heart was in his throat. He saw the way Frank looked at you— like he knew what your skin felt like already. 

“You two…” Bucky started, then stopped. His voice was dangerously low. “You fucked, didn’t you?”

Frank looked up. “We didn’t bake cookies.”

Bucky surged forward. “I swear to God—”

“Both of you!” you barked. “Enough!”

Frank didn’t flinch. He just scoffed under his breath and turned back to your shoulder, grabbing a syringe from the med kit and tearing open a pack of gauze with his teeth. 

“Didn’t realize you were dating the Winter Soldier,” Frank muttered, injecting the numbing agent into the skin around your wound. “Last time I saw you, you were with that blonde Widow chick. Got a thing for Russians now, pretty girl?”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a second. Pain, exhaustion, and frustration welled up inside. “Shut the fuck up, Frank.”

“I’m not Russian,” Bucky snapped before he could stop himself.

Frank glanced over his shoulder. “That’s not what I heard.”

Bucky stepped closer, chest heaving. “You want to test what I’ve got in common with the Red Room, Castle?”

“Easy,” Frank shook his head, “just sayin’. She always did have a type.”

That almost did it.

Bucky’s fists curled at his sides. His breath came faster. He saw red— and for a split second, he was ten seconds away from tearing Frank’s smug face off. 

But then… he heard your soft whimper. It was a hiss of pain. Your head tipped  back against the couch, eyes fluttering as the blood loss started to catch up. 

And suddenly, Bucky remembered why he was here. What really mattered.

You.

He was at your side in an instant, kneeling by the couch as Frank packed the wound and started stitching. You were grunting, your fingers twitching for something to hold.

Bucky took your hand.

You gripped him like he was the only thing tethering you to this world.

Frank worked without saying much after that. The tension between him and Bucky didn’t fade—it settled like a landmine they both agreed not to step on. For now.

“Got anything for the pain?” Bucky asked, looking toward the dingy kitchen.

Frank jerked his chin. “Cabinet over the fridge. Bottles labeled in red are painkillers. Other colors are mine.”

Bucky found what he needed. Got the pills into you with a cracked water bottle. He sat by your side while you slowly went limp under the weight of the drugs.

You passed out with your head in his hands. He brushed the hair from your face with a touch so gentle it made Frank’s heart ache.

—

An hour later, Bucky stood at the tiny sink in Frank’s dimly lit bathroom, water running red as he scrubbed blood from his hands. 

The cracked mirror above the sink showed him a version of himself he didn’t like: wild eyes, tired lines on his forehead, and blood smeared up to his wrists.

This was your blood.

He gritted his teeth, pressing his palms harder under the water like he could scrub away his sins, like he could rewind time just by cleaning fast enough.

You got shot because we weren’t focused. He thought to himself. Because I couldn’t shut my mouth. Because I couldn’t let go of the past. Because I just had to pick a fight.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

You had every right to have a past. You told him, over and over, that you chose him.

But it hadn’t been enough in the moment. 

And now…

Now you were unconscious on Frank Castle’s couch with stitches in your shoulder, and he was standing in a stranger’s bathroom washing away the evidence of his own failure.

He slammed the faucet off and leaned heavily on the sink, breathing hard. For a moment, he just stared at himself. The blood was gone, but the shame still clung to him like a second skin.

“Get a grip,” he said to his reflection.

He grabbed a towel and dried his hands.

Behind him, the door creaked open. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Frank.

“You done crying in there, Barnes?”

Bucky met his own bloodshot eyes in the mirror and took a deep breath. When he stepped back out, Frank was already cracking open two beers— one slid across the counter toward him like a peace offering.

“Don’t drink on missions,” Bucky said, even though alcohol didn’t give him anything to work with. 

“We’re not on a mission anymore.” Frank shrugged.  “You’re in my house. She’s breathing. “Take the fuckin’ beer.”

Bucky hesitated, but still sat down.

He cracked it open and drank in silence.

Frank leaned back, arms crossed, smiling like he’d already written this whole scene in his head.

“So,” Frank said. “How’s that working out for you?”

Bucky shot him a sideways glare. “You mean her?”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “No, I meant your bloodstained fashion choices. Yeah, I mean her.”

Bucky drank again. “Fine.”

“That right?” Frank said, not buying it for a second. “Cuz she showed up bleeding out on my doorstep and you looked two seconds from throwing me through a wall.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You didn’t exactly help.”

Frank’s grin widened. “What, calling you soldier? That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

Bucky didn’t answer. 

Both of them drank.

The air between them stayed hot, but not explosive. 

Frank looked toward the back room, where you were still out cold. The lines of his mouth softened slightly, the smirk dying in the corner of his mouth.

“She still talk in her sleep?”

Bucky glanced at him. “Sometimes.”

“Used to scare the shit out of me. She’d mumble names. Codes. Orders. She’d say something about Wilson or about how Riley’s in danger. Good ol’ air force PTSD,” Frank nodded, “One time she said my name and thrashed so hard I thought she was gonna kill me in her sleep.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“She doesn’t talk.. about you,” Bucky said finally. His voice was low, eyes locked on the floor. “I didn’t even know you two…”

Frank shook his head. “Didn’t bake cookies,” he echoed.

“Yeah. Got it.”

They let another beat of silence fester.

“You loved her?” Bucky asked, even though he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“I did,” Frank took a sip, but didn’t look at him. “Still do. Not the same way, though.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around the bottle. “What the hell does that mean?”

Frank finally looked at him. No sarcasm now, just tired honesty.

“I don’t know if she told you about my… past. But after all that happened to me, I didn’t think I was capable of it again. I was half dead. Barely human. And then she showed up and saw through all the bullshit. And she stayed.”

Bucky was listening. Processing.

“She taught me how to feel again. Real shit. Not just rage. Not just grief.” Frank rubbed the back of his neck, like the memory itched. “She used to tell me I wasn’t broken, just dented. I believed her.”

“So what happened?”

Frank leaned back, eyes on the cracked ceiling.

“She fed my flame and I fed her violence. I knew if she kept me around, she’d forget what peace felt like. So I ended it.”

That made Bucky’s stomach twist. He hated how much of that felt familiar. 

Frank glanced toward the couch where you were still curled in sleep, bandages soaked but holding. “She deserves better than that.”

“She deserves someone who doesn’t get jealous of her past,” Bucky muttered.

“You and me both,” Frank chuckled under his breath. “I used to hate that I shared an ex with Red,” Frank admitted. Bucky could just assume he was talking about Daredevil. “But it’s a small world. Small circle. Vigilantes fuck around. You think we go home to nice houses and clean sheets?”

Bucky said nothing. Because now, you did. 

“How long you two been together?” Frank asked, casual.

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Just watched the light shift across the floor as the old ceiling fan spun overhead. Then, finally, “Three years.”

Frank’s eyebrows lifted. “Three?”

He let out a low whistle and took a sip. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s like… eight decades in vigilante time.”

Bucky didn’t smile, but nodded once.

“Congratulations,” Frank tilted his beer toward him in a mock toast. “Longest relationship I ever seen her in. Not that I was taking notes or anything, but…” He grinned. “I knew all the flings. None of ‘em made it past a year. Most of them burned out around month ten.”

Bucky shifted, fist clenched, but not as harsh as before. “I’ve met a few of them. Or… worked with ‘em.”

Frank chuckled. “Bet that’s fun.”

“Not really.”

Frank scoffed. “Y’know,” he said, “you don’t gotta worry about me. Or any of the rest of us.”

Bucky looked at him sideways. “Yeah?”

Frank nodded toward the living room, where you were sleeping under a threadbare blanket, one leg hanging off the side of the couch.

“She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t love you. Still a bit of a dick when she’s mad, but who isn’t? She chose you. That woman’s got trust issues deeper than the fuckin’ ocean, but she lets you near her when she’s bleeding?” He shook his head. “That’s something, man.”

Bucky’s hand curled loosely around the bottle. “Doesn’t stop the way it feels sometimes. Like I’m… following ghosts.”

Frank leaned against the counter, arms folded, studying him. “You’re not a ghost to her.”

“Feels like I am.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

That hit a little deeper than Bucky expected. He looked away.

“You’re not me,” Frank said finally. “And that’s a good thing.”

Bucky blinked. Looked up.

Frank gestured between them. “You know what I gave her? Rage. Like I said, we fed each other’s worst instincts.” He took a breath. “You give her something I couldn’t: Peace.”

Bucky scoffed, a bitter little noise. “Peace? You should see the way we’ve been acting lately?”

Frank shrugged. “Fights happen. Especially with her.” He smirked. “But she came here because she trusted you to carry her when she couldn’t stand. That’s what counts.”

Bucky  took a sip of the beer, but didn’t really taste it. He still felt the heat of the moment in his chest.

Frank tilted his bottle toward him again. “You love her?”

“More than anything.”

“Then hold on to that.” Frank’s voice was sincere. “Cause’ if two broken people can get their shit together and still choose each other every damn day, that’s more than most people get.”

They sat in silence for a while, before eventually, Frank raised his bottle one more time. “To the girl who survived all of us.”

Bucky hesitated—then tapped his bottle gently against Frank’s.

“To the girl who made us feel human again,” he said.

They drank.

In the back of the room, you shifted in your sleep, muttered something under your breath, then went still again.

Frank leaned back. “Think she’s gonna be pissed when she finds out we bonded?”

Bucky found himself a smile— just a little. “Probably.”

—

The pain was dull when you woke up—  more like a memory than a wound, pulsing behind your bones in sync with your heartbeat. Your shoulder throbbed under tight bandages.

You cracked your eyes open, vision swimming in the dim light. The ceiling was warped and water-stained, familiar in the worst way, lit only by the flicker of a busted lamp somewhere in the room. The air smelled like old cigarette smoke, sweat, and gun oil.

You remembered where you were. Frank Castle’s safehouse.

You felt a body pressing against your side. 

Bucky.

He was crouched beside the couch, looking like he’d been glued to your side for hours— maybe longer. His hair was a mess, flattened in places from where he’d run his hands through it on repeat. 

“Hey,” he greeted, rough around the edges but laced with so much affection it you felt it more than you felt the wound. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, “You okay?”

Your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. You tilted your head just enough to brush your mouth against his in return, your voice barely above a whisper. “Mmhmm.”

Behind you, someone cleared their throat.

You glanced past Bucky, and there was Frank— arms crossed, watching the two of you with a look that wasn’t quite judgment and wasn’t quite amusement either. 

It looked like... approval.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, but shifted closer to you anyways. His hand brushed your hair back with the softest care, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“We gotta go, yeah, doll?” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You winced as you shifted upright, his hand already sliding under your good arm. You leaned into him without hesitation. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, trying to shake the fog from your head. “Just... give me a sec.”

You rested your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, letting the world settle, then pushed yourself upright again. 

“Thanks, Frank,” you managed, voice rough but sincere. “For the whole... keeping me alive thing.”

His mouth curved upward at the corner. “Anytime, pretty girl.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Bucky’s voice cut through the room— “Don’t call her that.”

But.. there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Frank’s brow ticked up, amised. “Relax, soldier. It’s a nickname, not a ring.”

“She’s not yours to nickname.”

You let out a low groan, rubbing your hand over your face. “Jesus Christ. I almost died and you two are busy measuring dicks?”

Frank huffed a small laugh. “Still got that attitude, I see.”

Bucky glanced down at you, brushing your knuckles lightly with his thumb. “Good. Means you’re still alive.”

Frank pushed off the doorway, “She’ll outlive both of us at this rate.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, his hand never leaving yours. “That’s the plan.”

You leaned against him, blinking up at the two men, brow furrowing as the realisation finally hit. 

These weren’t snide remarks. This was… banter. 

They weren’t trying to kill each other.

“What the hell…” you mumbled. “You two friends now?”

Bucky looked down at you, shrugging. “Had a long night.”

Frank smirked from across the room, raising an eyebrow. “And a few beers.”

You stared between them, utterly baffled. “The fuck did I miss?”

—

The drive back was a quiet haze of streetlights. You slumped in the passenger seat, curled toward the window, your shoulder still aching beneath layers of gauze. 

When he pulled up to your shared home, Bucky came around to your side before you could even try to open the door. He lifted you again like you weighed nothing and carried you into the apartment without saying a word.

He laid you gently on the couch, brushing the hair from your face as you settled back into the cushions. His fingers lingered on your cheek, “I’ll get your painkillers,” he said.

You let your eyes follow him as he crossed to the kitchen, retrieved a glass of water, and returned with a small pill in his palm.

“Small dose,” he warned, crouching beside you again. “We’re spacing them out.”

You took it, swallowed, then leaned your head back and sighed. You tilted your head toward him.

“So… you and Frank buddies now?”

Bucky snorted softly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“But you talked.”

“Yeah,” He confirmed. “We talked.”

You raised a brow, mildly impressed. “And you didn’t smash each other’s face in?”

Bucky chuckled. “Came close.”

You let a beat of silence pass between you. 

Then you finally said, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicked back to you. 

“I should’ve seen how uncomfortable you were,” you admitted. “I… I just didn't think the exes would be a sore spot.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He reached up, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I let all that shit build up. That’s not on you.”

“Still… I could’ve talked to you about all of it before I got back into the field.” You swallowed. “I… I just didn’t want you to see me differently.”

“I do see you differently,” he said quietly.

Your stomach twisted.

“But not in a bad way,” he added quickly. “Your past… is just that. Frank helped me see that.”

You blinked fast, trying not to cry. “But it keeps finding me.”

“I know,” he said. 

You gave him a sad smile and a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. You’re my now. You’re my future. You're it.”

His breath caught, and he looked at you like you’d just pulled him out of the deepest part of the ocean.

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and soft and sweet. It was the kind of kiss that tasted like forgiveness, because he was still learning what it meant to be loved out loud by someone so unfiltered, by someone with nothing to hide.

You stayed pressed againsthim for a long time, your hand in his hair, his forehead against yours.

Eventually, he pulled back and smiled faintly. 

He stood, walking toward the kitchen. “I’m making you hot chocolate.”

You blinked after him. “Are you serious?”

“You want marshmallows?”

“Obviously.”

He got up, and from the kitchen, you could hear Bucky moving around — the clink of the saucepan on the stove, the rustle of a cocoa tin being opened, the faint hiss of milk heating as he stirred. 

You sank deeper into the couch, letting the ache in your shoulder fade into the background.

Your eyes drifted half-shut, but then you heard it.

A ding from beside you on the couch.

You blinked, turning your head slightly, and there it was — Bucky’s phone lighting up on the cushion, his name glowing on the lock screen along with the preview of a new text.

Frank Castle.

Of course it was Frank.

Curiosity got the better of you, and your eyes skimmed the message: "If you wanna give your pretty girl a break and need someone who doesn’t pull his punches on a mission, give me a call, Barnes. And I’ll be there."

You smiled — part fond, part exasperated — and the warmth in your chest didn’t dim.

Before you could say anything, Bucky’s voice floated over from the kitchen, teasing, “You looking at my phone, doll?”

You glanced toward him, two mugs cradled in his hands as he walked towards you.

“Didn’t know you and Frank exchanged numbers,” You lifted your brows. “He says he’s offering his services.”

Bucky lowered himself onto the couch beside you, placing the mug carefully into your hand.

Bucky let out a quiet snort, shaking his head as he picked up the phone and read it for himself. His thumb hovered over the reply button, but he didn’t type anything right away.

“At least,” he muttered under his breath, “he’s now calling you my pretty girl.”

You leaned your head toward him, letting it rest against his shoulder.

“Damn right I am,” you mumbled fondly.

Damn right you are. 

–end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23

is that me on ur lockscree-

a/n: this turned out shitty i feel like, send requests i have a writers block rn

bucky barnes x reader

summary: you need bucky’s phone to see if your photos sent because he didn’t respond and you find a picture of you on his lock screen

warnings: flufffffffffffff, cuteness :)

it’s been around 4 hours or longer, you didn’t know anymore anyways.

you just sent bucky some pictures of things he might want later while you were shopping and asked him if he needed anything. he hasn’t responded.

you are now home in the comfort of your bed but not a sight of your man. you haven’t checked to see if he was in the office of the compound not wanting to disturb him if he might’ve been in a meeting.

you let out a long sigh and got out of the messy warmth and went to the kitchen wanting to make a snack so you got the milk out of the fridge and went to the large pantry looking for your cinnamon corn flakes as you were heading back once you’ve grabbed them you found bucky‘ phone on the counter.

confuzzled, you picked it up and found a picture of you, in bed, sleeping, hugging your stuffed animal, with your furrowed eyebrows.

and you giggled and snickered to yourself silently, it was cute how he put you as his lock screen, and you couldn’t help but smile even wider when you found another picture of you as his home screen, you definitely were going to tease him about it later.

as you unlocked it, easy access, you thought grinning to yourself and being lucky bucky never had a password and you went straight towards text messages.

and you found your pictures and text message in the new notifications. huh, how come he hasn’t opened it?

and you heard a voice behind you. “doll?” and you turned around quickly, startled.

”hi butterfly” you said smiling widely, remembering how you got to the nickname, bucky’s phone still in your hand. looking at bucky’ s tall tired frame smiling widely, back at you.

”when’d you come back, doll?”

“two, three hours ago, where were you?”

”oh, i didn’t know, sorry peach, i was in a meeting and when you still didn’t arrive i hit the gym with steve”

”it’s alright, just wonderin”

”missed me doll?” bucky said cheekily with a smirk on his fac as he slowly walk toward me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

”nope, ya miss me?” you stated back with your arms rested gently on his chest, looking up at him with a grin.

”that hurts, bullet in the heart, doll” bucky said as he acted out as if a bullet did hit him on the chest.

you laughed softly and said “i’m kidding i’m kidding i did”

”thought so!”

”that’s not fair” you said with a fake pouty face looking up at him with dog eyes

”alright, alright i missed you too”

”I knew it!“ you yelled squealing and rubbing it in his face with a small happy dance and bucky just watched in awe.

”you know what else i discovered today, buttercup?”

”hmmmmmm, i don’t know doll what” he feigned questioning

”i found something on your phone“ you said handing it to him as it was in your hand the entire time

”and exactly what was that?” bucky said knowing he had nothin to hide

”your wallpaper! its me!” you said teasingly an got tickled by large hands as you turned around to run from him knowing he was gonna chase you

”b-buckyyyyyyy” you tried to say, barely a known word had come out as you tried to stop his hands while squirming and laughing

”alright” he said, raising hIs hands in innocence, but your teasing wasn’t gonna stop even after.

”you have your wallpaper as meeeee” you screamed, running away from bucky and into your shared room, with him chasing after.

that followed with more tickles and more play fighting and eventually after exhaustion you both layed in bed with cuddles afterwards, both disregarding the unfinished cereal and sweaty gym bag.

“i don’t know why youre surprised with you being my wallpaper doll but i have no regrets or shame i’m doing so”

”ok, but it’s still cute of you”

Updated: 03/31/2021

Check out my 1k challenge!!!

Join my Taglist HERE!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!!

This blog is 18+ ONLY!!! Because I’m an old lady, I love to use bad words, and there’s just a ton of porn here. There will be an occasional dub-con or very dark fic. I do like writing fight scenes so there are going to be mentions of pretty graphic violence. I do my best to tag accordingly, and put content warnings on each of my fics but if you notice I’ve missed a warning anywhere, please DM me and I’ll fix it ASAP!!

I write reader insert fics for whatever I feel like, but it’s mostly Chris Evans, Henry Cavill, and Sebastian Stan characters. I will also probably have more wlw fics as well, so look forward to those! I’m up for anything! I do my best to keep descriptions of the reader as vague as possible to keep things inclusive, but will sometimes add descriptors of easily changed aesthetic things (i.e. tattoos, piercings, etc.). Again, if you have trouble fully immersing yourself in one of my fics due to a reader description, please let me know! I welcome constructive criticism.

Keep reading