#falcon and the winter soldier x reader

[make-me-imagine]

Flowers and Courage

Plot: After Bucky fears he might lose his chance with you, he finally finds the courage to tell you how he feels.

Prompts: 'Secret admirer' + "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (a left over request from Valentines Day)

A/n: Sorry its so short and kind of sucks lol I had some trouble getting it down.

Words: 1.1k

-

Bucky was deep in thought as he sat at the bar, his hands slowly turning the glass in his hands as he thought about what to do. He wasn't sure how long he had been here already, but it felt like time had slowed down since he sat down to think.

He felt like he was in grade school all over again. Uncertain of how to tell his crush how he feels, so instead he just leaves them secret notes and candy.

But he wasn't a child anymore, and you weren't just a crush. He had never felt anything so deep and real for anyone before. And he had never found something so hard as he did confessing to you.

It was supposed to be easy, show up at your doorstep with flowers. Allow them to lead into a natural confession. But the second you opened your door, and your eyes cast over the flowers, causing a look of surprise over your face, he panicked.

"These were in front of your door." He said suddenly, feeling all courage he thought he had dissipate.

"Oh really?" You asked with growing curiosity as you took them. "I wonder if they were left at the wrong door."

Bucky felt disappointment and anger at himself wash over him as he held back on saying they were definitely for you.

That had happened months ago. And ever since then, it had become habit for him to hide how he felt. The coffees and flowers left to you randomly at work were thought of as kind gestures of a stranger.

When in reality it was Bucky. Showing his feelings for you the only way it seemed he could. Secretly.

He admired you from afar, adored you really. But was your friend up close, showing no real evidence of how he felt, or so he thought, and hoped.

Bucky thought it was fine, it could become the normal, it had become the normal. Until yesterday, when he overhead another agent talking to you, flirting shamelessly.

And then the man had the audacity to take credit for the flowers and the coffees, everything Bucky had done for you. This ass-hat had swooped in taken all the credit, trying to sweep you off your feet.

It infuriated Bucky, but he held back, not wanting to make a scene, or throw the man through a window.

So here he was, trying to find what courage he could through the anger to tell you once and for all how he felt about you.

Downing the last of his drink, Bucky slapped some money down and left, determination anchored in his heart as he made his way towards your apartment.

--- --- ---

As you pulled open your door, your heart leapt in you chest as you saw Bucky standing at your doorstep. You always felt that same wave of nervousness and butterflies when you saw him, even though you had known him, and been friends for years.

Your eyes cast down to his hands and you felt your chest clench. Flowers. Were they for you? Were they from him? Were they left at your doorstep again? Were they from the agent from work?

Out of all of those options, you hoped they would be from Bucky. Just like you had hoped they were the first time.

"Bucky, hi!" You greeted with a bright smile. "Come in!"

He smiled, but you could tell something was off, he seemed nervous, and that only added to your own anxieties.

As he stepped into your apartment he cleared his throat, handing you the flowers that had been in his hands, you noticed his knuckles were white as he gripped them before letting go.

"These are for you."

"Oh-" You hesitated for a moment "Were they left at the door step again?"

The first time this happened, when Bucky told you the flowers were left at your doorstep you were disappointed. But something told you they had really been from him. Maybe it was just you being hopeful.

Bucky shook his head and spoke, his voice softer than you had been expecting. "No, they're from me."

He saw your eyes widen as your face brightened up and he felt a wave of relief and triumph wash over him.

"Thank you, but- what are they for?" You asked cautiously, yet curious.

A thousand thoughts seemed to cross Bucky's mind in the span of a second as he froze, before he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

"They- uh, there-" he sighed before laughing dryly "I used to be better at this."

You smiled "Better at what Buck?"

He met your eyes and saw nothing but your familiar kindness, and a hint of encouragement, even eagerness.

"Confessing."

You felt as thought your heart stopped as your breath hitched in your throat.

Bucky continued before you could respond. "Those flowers from a few months ago, they weren't left on your doorstep, I got those for you too, I just...panicked"

You repressed a giggle "You...panicked?"

"I know." He laughed softly. "I don't know I just- I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same, and that it would ruin what friendship we had. So I kept it to myself. I left you coffees and flowers at your desk after that" he saw your face turn to realization "And yesterday I heard that douc- that guy tell you he did it, and it pissed me off. But I realized it was my fault, for not having told you earlier. So I decided to tell you. Because- because I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you. I care about you much more than I have anyone in my life. And I don't want to lose you or any chance I might have of being with you. "

He watched you closely as you looked down at the flowers, watching as a smile slowly spread across your face. "I knew he didn't leave them for me. He made it so obvious he was lying." You looked up and met Bucky's eyes "And honestly, I had a feeling it might have been you, but I was too afraid to get my hopes up. Because I feel the same about you Bucky, everything you said, I feel it too."

You saw a wave of relief and happiness cross his face as you spoke. Suddenly he stepped closer, reaching up and gently touching your cheek as he smiled. "I wasted quite a bit of time, didn't I?"

You shrugged as your grin widened "Nothing you can't make up for."

xx

Sorry it ended so abruptly, I literally could not get anything else out of my brain lol

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @alexxavicry, @witchygagirl

Marvel+Bucky Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @dominos-palast, @maellem, @readingwithatorch, @cauliflowertree, @writerfulltime, @cosplayingwitch, @sweetpeapod, @hoodedbirdie, @oliviah-25,

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #buck barnes imagine #marvel imagine #falcon #falcon and the winter soldier imagine #fatws #fatws x reader #falcon and the winter soldier x reader #captain america imagine #avengers imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This? - Bucky x Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

#bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #sam wilson #sharon carter #baron zemo #takes place in the falcon and the winter soldier #this had been going around in my head for DAYS!!! #1k #2k

[littleredwolf]

Sinful Sighs

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are like a couple of horny teenagers after completing a mission where feelings were revealed - continuation of ‘Hungry Eyes’.  

Warnings: 18+ content - MINORS DNI- blowjob, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, sex with protection, cursing - just pure smut for the sake of it. 

Words: 1,303

A/N: Okay so part 2 came along sooner than expected - I am a woman with needs and apparently writing saucy fanfiction is how I fulfil them these days! Please forgive any mistakes/cringe moments - this is my first time writing full on smut and boy, was it a struggle!

--

READ PART ONE [HERE]

The Quinjet had barely touched the tarmac before you and Bucky were barreling down its ramp and making your way into the compound, hands entwined as you marched towards the living quarters. 

“For the love of God, turn off your comms before you get to your room!” Sam called after you, prompting you to rip out your earpieces and leave them on a side table as you passed through the lounge. 

You couldn’t unlock your door quick enough, and you squealed excitedly when Bucky playfully slapped your ass and shoved you through it once you’d finally got it open.

His mouth was on yours in seconds, hands on your waist as he guided you backwards. You dropped onto the edge of the bed when you felt the mattress pressing against the back of your knees, looking up at the super soldier through lust-filled eyes as you began to undo his belt. He caressed your cheek with his flesh hand, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips as he watched you, groaning when you opened your mouth and began to suck on it - a taster of what was to come. His vibranium hand came up to clasp your hair, making you gasp in delight as he gently pulled on it to make you look up at him. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, his confession sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core. 

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” you purred as you finished unbuttoning his pants and began to remove them along with his underwear, licking your lips as your eyes settled on his throbbing erection. 

“And why’s that, doll?” He asked, indulging his curiosity. 

“So that I could have done this a long time ago,” you said, wrapping your hand around his cock and taking his full length into your mouth. 

Bucky inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on your hair, eliciting a moan from you that vibrated around his cock and caused him to buck his hips towards you. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, but you held steady and continued to work him into a frenzy, licking and sucking and drawing the most delicious sounds from him. 

He reluctantly pulled you away after a few minutes, and you whined at the loss of contact. 

“Lay back,” he ordered, taking off his shirt and watching you like a predator stalking its prey as you followed his instructions. He dropped to his knees once you were in position, and you sucked in a breath as he began a trail of kisses that started from the inside of your ankle and led up to your inner thigh. 

Lifting the skirt of your dress, he took a moment to admire your underwear before hooking his fingers in the waistband and sliding them down, tossing them aside and continuing his path of kisses. 

You whimpered as he reached your slick folds, and you felt him smile wickedly against them before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your hands flew to his hair, nails raking along his scalp as you rolled your hips to meet him, soft moans passing your lips that spurred him on. 

Gripping your hip and holding you in place with his vibranium hand, Bucky added his flesh hand to the assault on your pussy, sliding a finger inside while his thumb circled your clit alongside his tongue. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as his finger curled up and rubbed against your sweet spot, speeding up your impending orgasm. 

“That’s it, doll,” Bucky groaned, his breath ghosting over your pussy and adding to the sweet sensations. “Come for me.” 

It was all the encouragement you needed and within seconds your pussy was squeezing around his fingers, back arching as your moans filled the room. 

“Good girl,” Bucky praised once you were finished, removing himself from between your legs and licking your juices from his fingers as he climbed onto the bed. “Sweet as a peach.” 

The lewd act made you bite your lip, and at Bucky’s command you moved up the bed to lay back against the pillows, spreading your legs and allowing him to position himself between them. He kissed you deeply, needily, and you eagerly parted your lips for him when he teased them with that skillful tongue of his, drawing more moans from you as he trailed more sloppy kisses along your jawline and neck. Your hands returned to his hair as you thrust your hips up to meet his cock, aching to have him inside you. 

“Please, Buck. I need you,” you whimpered, looking up at him with pleading eyes. A look of uncertainty crossed his face as he hesitated a moment, and you didn’t need the ability to read minds to know what he was thinking. 

Reaching over to your nightstand, you opened the drawer and pulled out a condom, smiling reassuringly up at him as you ripped it open and reached down to roll it over his cock. He groaned at your touch, and when you were done he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“If you change your mind about this, let me know and I’ll stop,” he whispered, and you cupped his face to make him look at you. 

“Not gonna happen,” you replied. 

It was all the reassurance he needed, and with a searing kiss he lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you. You gasped as he slowly pushed himself all the way in, filling you completely, and he paused only a moment for you to get accustomed to the feeling before pulling away and repeating the motion. 

Your soft moans turned to heavy pants as Bucky began to move faster, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer with each thrust while his mouth set your skin ablaze with every kiss to your neck, face and chest. 

You squeaked in surprise when he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders so that he could go deeper, and waves of ecstasy rolled over you as he brought you to the brink over and over again, the room filling with your exclamations of pleasure and encouragement for him to keep going. 

You lost count of how many times you came while Bucky fucked you, your pussy squeezing his cock and drawing the most explicit sounds from him. It didn’t take long for him to reach his own release, and his cries of pleasure joined yours as you both climaxed for the last time.  

You whined at the loss of contact when he pulled out to dispose of the condom, but he was back by your side in a matter of seconds, pulling you into his tight embrace and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he planted soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

“I can’t believe we haven’t done that sooner,” he murmured, his breath against your ear giving you goosebumps. “You’re fucking amazing.” 

Your cheeks reddened and you laid your head on his chest to hide the fact. 

“Says you,” you scoffed, and now it was his turn to blush. “At least now we know, we can make up for lost time,” you mused, and he hummed in agreement, the rumbling of his chest vibrating against your ear. 

“Well, the sooner we get started, the better,” he stated, and you lifted your head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Really!? Already!?” 

“Perks of being a super soldier, doll,” he smirked, and you giggled as he nudged himself into you to show his returning hard on. 

“FRIDAY - add condoms to the shopping list,” you announced to the AI as you reached over and pulled another from the nightstand. You had a full box in there, but something told you they wouldn’t last long. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #the winter soldier #fatws #falcon and the winter soldier #avengers #sebastian stan #bucky barnes smut #spicy content

[urdepressedslut]

Just Like That

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: While you two were supposed to be repairing Sam’s boat, you end up giving Bucky head instead.

♡ Warnings: SMUT, blowjobs, deepthroating/face fucking, slight praise kink, literally no plot just filth

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into your lips, the way your tongue ran on the underside of his dick— tracing the bulging vein.

“Doll… oh my… fuckkk.” He moaned out, his flesh hand tangling their fingers into your hair.

You hummed, sending vibrations into his dick. The action had him gripping your hair tight, the slight pain from your scalp shooting straight to your core. The throb had you whining around his length.

“Making me feel s’ good baby.” He praised breathlessly, easing his grip on your hair— petting it down soothingly.

You flattened your palms on his thighs, pushing forward until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

His hips bucked instinctively, almost crying out at the way your throat was squeezing him. He grabbed the doorway of the boat, the wood splintering in his metal grip.

You pulled all the way off of him, before swallowing his entire length again— gagging as his head hit deeper in the back of your throat.

“S’ fucking good baby…” He whimpered, his head tilted back in ecstasy.

You snuck a hand down, playing with his balls, letting your other hand pump his length. You glanced up at him— spit leaking from your lips. You watched with lust filled eyes as he panted and whined.

“James… you’re so hard,” You purred, his head snapping down at you, “Bet you’re close, huh?”

He let out a pathetic whine as you squeezed his balls—his face contorted in pain.

“Words baby.” You demanded, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his head.

His hips twitched slightly, the sensation of your tongue massaging around his tip heavenly. He let out a deep moan, feeling your tongue lick over his slit.

“S’ close doll— just like that.” He praised, letting his fingers comb through your hair.

There was something about you kneeling before him, eyes glossed over with lust, as the tears trailed down your cheeks— that made him absolutely feral. The position was so submissive, yet you held all the power. He was melting at your touch— his body putty at your hands.

You pumped his achingly hard length, giving his tip kitten licks. With your free hand caressing his thigh, you could feel the muscle twitch under your palm.

“Gonna cum James?” You asked hoarsely, his hazed over eyes meeting with yours.

You captured his length again, deepthroating him until your nose was buried into the hairs at the base of his cock. You gagged again, the convulsion from your throat making him growl in pleasure.

“Oh… that— keep doing that baby fuck…” He begged, his hips having a mind of their own, rocking into your face.

You whined around him, trying to breathe through your nose as he began to fuck your throat.

You reached around, grabbing handfuls of his ass— kneading the flesh. The action only made his thrusts deeper, his moans needier.

His thrusts were harsher, his needs a priority and if he had to use your face to chase his high— so be it. You on the other hand, we’re dripping. Your pussy was throbbing, him manhandling you making your entire body tingle— ache with desire.

He was nearly crying, his pants mixed with whines, getting impossibly close to the edge. You whimpered around him, his sounds only edging you on.

“Fuck baby… yes— you’re fucking mine,” He growled, his length growing impossibly harder at the image of you crying around him, “All mine.”

Your nails dug into the skin on his ass, your face drenched in tears, salvia leaking out of your mouth and down your chin. You gagged again, spurring him on further, his thrusts quicker. He grabbed your head, fucking your face with such force and suddenly he was pushing impossibly deeper in your throat, your jaw aching.

With an animalistic groan, he was spilling his seed down your throat. His breathing slowing, the waves of euphoria flowing throughout him. He stayed like that for a moment, relishing the feel of your throat around him.

At last, he released his death grip on your head. Slipping his cock from your throat with a hiss, his head sensitive. You gasped, panting in attempts to fill your lungs with the needed air.

With hooded eyes, Bucky gazed down at you with pleasure hazed eyes. His cock twitched at your flushed face, the tears tracks mixing with your spit— and his cum that had snuck out. Your eyes were slightly bloodshot, but as you gazed up at him— you were looking at him with such desire. You looked as if you were just getting started, and you wanted to devour him again.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered, voice hoarse.

He cradled your face, caressing your clammy cheek. He gently pulled you up, helping support your swaying state. You leaned into his palm, holding his gaze with adoration.

“I love you James.” You spoke into his palm, placing a kiss on his rough skin.

“I love you more baby.” He told you, wrapping his metal arm around your lower back, pulling you flush to him. “Now, let me return the favor.”

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #marvel imagines #oneshot #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #beefy bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws bucky barnes #literally ruin me #like pls i need him to gag me #i’m feral

[vigilante-3073]

Apology Flowers

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky buys you flowers.

TW: Fluff, nervous Bucky, pre-established relationship, lovesick Bucky.

Bucky stood in front of the flower stand, bright blue eyes running over all the colorful options. He knew that every flower had meaning, but seeing the sheer variety had him lost.

"Can I help you find something, Sir?" The elderly salesperson asked.

Bucky sighed, "Yeah, I could definitely use some help. I'm looking to buy flowers for my girl, but I'm feeling a little lost," He confessed with a small smile.

"Well, what's her favorite color, dear?" The woman asked.

"She really likes pink," Bucky said.

"Then we have a place to start. Is there a special occasion at all?" She asked.

"No, not really. I had to go out of town for a few days on short notice and didn't get to say goodbye before I left," Bucky said.

It wasn't necessarily a lie, he did have to leave town on short notice. The poor woman didn't need to know that he had been traveling the world with Sam Wilson to stop a terrorist group.

"That's very sweet, there's not many men like you around anymore," She mused, scanning the options.

"Don't I know it," Bucky muttered.

"Ah," She said suddenly, locating what she had been looking for.

The woman gathered multiple pink and white flowers together, tilting the top of the assorted bouquet towards Bucky.

"How's that, dear?" She asked, Bucky smiled.

"It's perfect," He said.

....

Bucky made his way down the hallway towards the small apartment that he shared with Y/N.

He took a deep breath as he tucked a hand into his pocket to pull out his keys.

She would be pissed and he knew that he deserved it. Bucky had practically disappeared, no calls or texts to explain anything.

He had only sent one: 'With Sam. Be home soon'

Then his phone died. And that was a few days ago.

Bucky slid his key into the lock before opening the door and stepping into the apartment.

"Doll, you home?" He called.

Y/N appeared around the corner quickly, rushing over to meet him.

"Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick," She said, pressing herself against his chest as she hugged him tightly.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, careful not to crush the bouquet.

He felt like he could finally relax for the first time in days. Bucky hadn't realized how much he missed her until she was in his arms again.

"I'm so sorry, doll. Sam and I got caught up in something big and I couldn't just leave him," Bucky said.

She pulled away, cupping his cheeks and inspecting the bruises and cuts littering his skin. He had hoped they would heal more before seeing her again.

"I'm gonna kill him," Y/N muttered.

"I'm okay," Bucky assured, thumb brushing across her hip gently.

Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled, "Bucky, what happened? Why didn't you call me?" She asked.

"My phone died," Bucky stated.

She huffed, "You are so lucky that I love you as much as I do," Y/N said.

"I brought you flowers... I know it doesn't make up for what I did, but I'm really sorry" He said, holding the bouquet up for her to see.

She took the bundle from his hand, smiling softly as she sniffed the petals, "Thank you, Bucky," Y/N said.

She rose up onto her toes, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

Bucky leaned forward, chasing her lips as she pulled away. He slid his arms around her waist, "Kiss me like you missed me?" He asked.

Y/N's smile widened, hand resting on the side of his neck with her thumb resting along the curve of his jaw as she brought his lips to her's.

Bucky moved his lips against her's, his hands sliding under the material of her t-shirt to rest against her bare skin.

Bucky thanked his lucky stars for whatever he had done right in his life to deserve someone as amazing as her.

He hoped that the small velvet ring box hidden away in the back of his drawer would show just how much he loved her, but that's a story for another time.

Y/N pulled away, "I need to put these flowers in some water. Why don't you hop in the shower and I will meet you there?" She proposed.

"I love you so damn much," He mumbled.

"I love you too. Now go before I change my mind," She smiled.

Bucky pressed another quick kiss to her lips before he released her, making his way down the hallway in the direction of their bedroom.

Bucky Barnes loved his woman.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #falcon and the winter soldier #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes

[super-marvel-dc]

Bucky: Who the fuck broke the toaster?

Y/N: It was Sam.

Steve: It was Sam.

Natasha: Sam broke it.

Sam:

Sam: ...yOU PROMISED-

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier #sam wilson x reader #the falcon x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Kate: What did you get Yelena for her birthday?

Y/N: I got her a dog.

Kate: Really? Me too!

Sam: I also got her a dog!

Bucky: Looks like we had the same idea.

Y/N: Scott, please tell me you didn’t get Yelena a dog as well.

Scott: I got her a dog!

[cuts to Yelena surrounded by dogs]

Yelena: THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!

#source: tik tok #kate bishop #kate bishop incorrect quotes #hawkeye #yelena belova #yelena belova incorrect quotes #black widow #avengers x reader #sam wilson #sam wilson incorrect quotes #falcon #captain america #bucky barnes #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #winter soldier #scott lang #scott lang incorrect quotes #ant man #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

[ramen-flavored]

Captain America wouldn’t approve of these fireworks scaring my dog

#marvel #disney plus #mcu #disney+ #disney #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #steve rogers #captain America #Sam Wilson #the falcon and the winter soldier #steve rogers x reader #Sam Wilson x reader #captain america x reader #the Fourth of July #july 4th #fourth of July #independence day #4th of july #fireworks #Chris Evans #anthony mackie #avengers #anti fireworks #the Avengers #anti Fourth of July #dog #dogs of tumblr #dogs #ramen-flavored

[kaznejis]

Love is lost on you- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sam hummed, eyeing you as he nodded slowly, “He’s been to therapy, gone on a date with some girl apparently.”

Your heart stuttered, eyebrows shooting up as you failed to hide your expression from Sam- the shock and subsequent heartbreak present in your features. “Oh,” you spoke slowly, refusing to meet Sam’s eye, “Yeah, well, good for him.”

A/N- I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing! Please feel free to send any requests for Bucky- I have a lot of free time right now. :) 

Word count: 3,862

Read it on AO3!

“Have you seen Bucky recently?”

Your lips twisted at Sam’s question, a lump forming in your throat at the name. Whilst you loved spending time with Sam- breakfasts, jogging together, late night drinks; the topic of your relationship with the Winter Soldier remained a taboo, an unspoken topic that lingered within every etched line of your conversations. You tended to skirt around his questions, opting to forget the time in which Y/N L/N and Bucky Barnes had been the pinnacle of a dynamic duo; both inside and outside of the battlefield. Constant speculation surrounding your relationship made you popular within the public eye, even as active fugitives- the perfect, star-studded friends-to-lovers trope, the bad boy and the good girl next door. Natasha had joked about the two of you being a couple- just to appease the general public who had kept up with any of your appearances.

Bucky had laughed in her face, mocking the idea of even being seen with you, ridiculing the idea of recognising what you believed to be true. You had laughed too, as sincerely as you could with the swirl of rejection in the pit of your stomach. You had realised then that despite your prayers, your wishes, you and Bucky Barnes would never be more than friends.

Sam was the only avenger you were constantly in contact with, having both opted to remain in Washington- you would join him in visiting Steve every now and then; now a dwindling old man, a shadow of the former super-soldier you had looked up to. He remembered very little of his time with the Avengers, the wide span of time his life had consisted throughout caused memories to intertwine and muddle together. But he still laughed, still carried that jovial optimism he carried towards life; you could only smile along, holding his hand as he lived out his final days. You envied Steve at times, he had known exactly where he belonged and had taken the chance to go there.

You hadn’t quite worked out your place in the world post-Avengers, post superhero glory.

Maybe that was why you had clung to Sam, meeting with him regularly and joining him on outings to his hometown; he felt the same way. You couldn’t blame him when he gave away the shield- it was too much of a responsibility, a burden to hold for the rest of his life as he would constantly live in Steve’s shadow. You understood, you couldn’t fault him for it- but part of you knew it would have landed in the wrong hands.

“No,” you shook your head, running a finger along the rim of your beer bottle as the new ‘Captain America’ pranced around on the bar’s television above you. “Why, have you?”

Sam hummed, eyeing you as he nodded slowly, “He’s been to therapy, gone on a date with some girl apparently.”

Your heart stuttered, eyebrows shooting up as you failed to hide your expression from Sam- the shock and subsequent heartbreak present in your features. “Oh,” you spoke slowly, refusing to meet Sam’s eye, “Yeah, well, good for him.”

Sam hummed again, a blatant smirk upon his lips as he drank from his beer bottle, “There’s something else.”

“Go on.”

“He’s coming down here, to help confront the flag smashers issue,” his voice faded out as your heart thudded, “And to probably cuss me out for letting the shield go.”

“He’s coming here? Bucky’s coming here?” your voice wobbled slightly, your facade of strength instantly fading at the thought of being in the same room as him, seeing his face, smelling his scent. It was a feeling you’d once been accustomed to, seeing him everyday- sparring with him in the gym, fighting alongside him, collapsing into his arms as the both of you had faded back into existence- gripping the sides of his face, foreheads connected as you’d cried. Your lips had collided on that fateful day, tears mingling together as you’d gripped at each other, holding fistfuls of his long hair in that Wakandan jungle. You had thought that was it, it was finally happening. But then the portals had opened, the fight had ended and the clarity of the situation had become all too real- Tony and Natasha were dead, Steve was no longer the young super-soldier he had been only seconds earlier. Bucky had left then, disappeared without a trace leaving the kiss you had shared merely adding up to the heat of the moment.

It had broken your heart, more so than the day Bucky had laughed at the thought of a relationship. You had finally grasped it, everything you had ever wanted- you were alive, you had won, you had Bucky. But within minutes it was over, rendering you helpless, empty, alone. You had been left with nothing post-blip, no family to return to, no home to return to. You joined the billions that simply rode the wave of life, unable to return to their previous selves; unable to gain back the years upon years lost to Thanos.

Sam had continued to eye you, pity sitting deep within his eyes, “You know, maybe now could be the time to discuss what happened between you two.”

You shook your head once again, a sardonic chuckle erupting from your gut, “I don’t wanna do that to him, Sam.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You literally just said that he’s been on a date, I don’t want to disrupt his life now with reminders of the past. He’s put it all behind him and I respect that.” You continued to work in favour of America, utilising your skills in order to aid the government. You and Sam had co-ran multiple military focused missions- threats were ever prevalent, so at least you could be occupied on that front.

Sam sighed, rubbing at his forehead, exhaustion prevalent within the crease of his brow, “Well, the two of you better not be awkward as hell the whole time, we have a mission to complete.”

Smiling, you raised your beer bottle to clink it against his, a toast to whatever was to come. “Can’t make any promises.”

-

You pitied Sam, sitting on the other side of the plane, grasping at any semblance of a coherent conversation in order to escape the thick tension within the air. It was awkward as hell.

Bucky had stormed over to the two of you, opting to ignore you entirely and cuss Sam out for losing the shield. You had been too stunned to acknowledge him- his once long locks had been chopped, replaced by cropped, buzzed hair with the slightest fluff on top. Your body practically yearned for him as you took in the tight leather, light stubble and dominant demeanour he now wore- the quiet, isolated Bucky that you had rescued and harboured was no longer present; he had been replaced by a real soldier- all hard muscle and perfected accuracy. You had stood to the side of Sam, switching between avoiding Bucky’s gaze and gawking at his new appearance. Upon the chance that he had taken to try and acknowledge you, you had already walked away- much to Sam’s dismay as he side eyed the both of you the entire walk towards the plane. Despite Sam’s endearing attempts to include you in the conversation, you had merely hummed and nodded- too nervous to engage with this new Bucky Barnes.

So, now, you sat side by side in the back of the plane- waiting, begging, for the instruction to jump. As soon as it did come, Sam was gone- practically leaping from the plane as he flew towards the target. Bucky had faltered, glancing back at you momentarily as you had remained stoic; refusing to meet his gaze as you checked your weapons.

He cleared his throat, glancing downwards from the exit of the plane, “We got any chutes?”

“It’s too low.” Joaquin replied from the opening, gripping the handle as he remained stable. Bucky glanced back at you once again, a tinge of worry present in his features as he calculated the expanse of the drop before you. You rolled your eyes back, crossing your arms as you waited for him to jump. Clicking his tongue, he nodded- before throwing himself from the plane.

“Impressive,” you snorted as he screamed, grinning at Joaquin who attempted to stifle his laugh, “Good thing I thought to install gliders in my stealth suit instead of opting for a leather jacket.” At that you swan-dived from the entrance, allowing your suit to expand and form makeshift gliders. With feline-like precision, you landed on your two feet beside Bucky, splayed along the grass.

“Well, that was majestic.”

You scoffed, turning to jog after Red Wing as it began to lead the way to Sam’s location. Though, before you could; a weighted hand grasped at your sleeve, “Whoa, whoa. Hold on.” Bucky gasped, presumably exasperated from the fall, “Are you gonna talk to me or are you giving an old friend the silent treatment right now?”

Scoffing, you snatched your hands from the metal arm- an action only possible with his allowance, “What do we have to talk about, James?”

“Oh- come on Doll, James, seriously?” your heart sped at the nickname, your cheeks filling with heat as you turned your face away from Bucky, beginning the long run through the forest. You heard a sigh behind you, to which you ignored, you had nothing to discuss with him. He had obviously moved on, with no intention of using this meet up as a chance to potentially rekindle what had about to have been- right person, wrong time and all. But instead he had gone on a date. He had probably bought her flowers, drinks, and put on a nice outfit for her. The thought made your stomach churn, the polar opposite of butterflies swarming in your stomach. Jealousy. Out of curiosity, you just wanted to know who she was- check that she was a viable replacement, made him happy, was good looking and all. Though you couldn’t ask Bucky about it- why should you care anyway? The two of you had kissed once. Bucky probably didn’t even remember it, you thought to yourself.

The two of you jogged in silence; the heavy weight of what lay between you creating a dark cast upon your conscience. You well and truly pitied Sam. The Falcon came into view within the warehouse, crouched behind a shelf and watching the targets. As him and Bucky argued petulantly, you observed the group ahead- they were just kids. All young, fighting for what they believed was right; you saw a mirror image of your own young self. You watched as they entered the trucks- Sam scanned the trucks before realising that a hostage was potentially present within one of the vehicles. You swore, sprinting after Sam and Bucky.

“Wait!” you shouted, causing the others to come to a halt; both sharing confused looks, “Sam I need you to lift me so we can get extra eyes from the sky- I’m not as fast as the two of you on foot and I’m definitely not about to make James give me a piggyback.” Sam nodded, ensuring that he could lift you and fly at the same time- but not before sharing a confused look with Bucky, mouthing ‘James?’ to which Bucky only shook his head, shrugging. The two of you flew off, allowing you the opportunity to unholster your handguns and deliver a number of shots to the top of the truck.

“Drop me off on top!” you yelled up to Sam as you watched Bucky be thrown from one van and dragged to the top of another. His super-soldier strength inflicting damage upon each vehicle.

“Are you serious?” Sam shouted from above, “You’ll get yourself killed, look at them holding Bucky back right now.”

“Do it Sam.” you ordered, squirming in his arms until he deposited you on top of the trucks to which you instantly unclipped your throwing knives, depositing two into the necks of the two soldiers holding Bucky back. Though- it only angered them, allowing them to turn their attention to your human form. You swore, your hair whipping in the wind as they advanced towards you.

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled, fighting against the men holding him down, “Y/N, no!”

Delivering a fatal kick, the soldier finally reached you, grabbing you by the hair and slamming you into the top of the truck. Screaming, you mustered every tactic you’d ever been taught: elbows, legs, arms- any brutal bone was thrown against the soldier pinning you down. The man tutted, his anonymity within the mask only increasing your terror as cold eyes glared down at you. You realized that you had become used to fighting alongside super soldiers instead of against them.

You heard Bucky’s yell before you felt the impact of the floor- the trucks speeding away as you laid at the side of the road; each breath hitching with the intense pain within your body. Gritting your teeth, you rolled to your knees and crawled to the roadside; only to lose momentum and roll into a ditch. The fall would have been fatal if not for the protection of your suit- but the high velocity impact had still broken a number of bones. Licking your lips, the taste of acrid copper prevailed as you began to cough up flecks of blood; turning only to see that the grass around you was stained red.

“Shit.” your vision blurred dangerously- the pain merged into an unfocused haze, rendering your ability to identify your injuries useless. Fading in and out of consciousness, you listened to the wildlife around you and thought of Bucky. He would never know the origin of your anger- only remembering the cold mirage you had enacted towards him; opting to ignore him instead. Sobbing, you prayed for anyone, anything to find you; for Sam and Bucky to break free from the soldiers and come and find you, save you. You would apologise then- talk to Bucky, talk to him about whatever he wanted to say to you. It didn’t matter if you were just friends, if you met his new girlfriend- you just wanted to see him again.

Blood stained your chin at that point; the coughing and choking a constant motion as you couldn’t muster the strength to sit up; to allow your throat some reprieve. Your leg felt wrong, broken in different places and bent backwards at the knee. As your vision faded, you only thought of Bucky.

-

“Shit, shit Y/N,” a gust of wind hit you as the whoosh of wings closing sounded above, “Buck! I’ve found her, she’s over here.”

The sound of knees hitting the ground beside your head could be heard next, the impact causing your head to jostle, “Doll? Y/N, can you hear me, tell me you can hear me.” warmth surrounded you as you felt your head being lifted into a lap, a rough sleeve gently wiped the blood staining your chin, “Come on Y/N, don’t do this to me. Wake up.”

“Get her in the truck.” A foreign voice sounded, deep and arrogant in its timber.

“Get away from her,” the voice above you snapped, “we don’t know the extent to her injuries yet- we may not be able to lift her.”

“We need to get her to a hospital, Buck,” a voice that sounded like Sam’s spoke, “there’s still a heartbeat, we’ve got a chance.” Throughout the conversation above you, a trembling hand had caressed your face; smoothing the blood-matted hair away from your face and distracting you from the pain throughout your body. The hand was calloused but gentle- the feeling of it against your cheek vaguely familiar in your unconscious state. You faded in-and-out of consciousness from there, an ache resounding throughout your body as you were lifted and held against a firm chest; warmth radiating through the harsh material. Sweet nothings and comforts were whispered into your ear as the body stayed close, the hand firm against the side of your face; creating a comforting pressure. Reminding you that you could still be alive.

Eventually, you woke- the harsh lights of a hospital room blinding as your eyes adjusted; the last thing you had seen being the country roadside. Coughing, you retched at the sandpaper texture to your throat. A straw was quickly coaxed towards your mouth, Sam’s worrisome eyes staring down at you. You sipped from the straw, blinking as you truly adjusted to being conscious.

“Hey there,” Sam spoke as he gave you a watery smile, his eyes filling with tears, “We thought we’d lost you for a minute there.”

“Can’t lose me that easily,” you croaked, smiling at your best friend and reaching for his hand; to which he obliged.

“Thankfully not,” Sam laughed shakily, his gaze still clouded with emotion, “Y/N, I was the one to see you first and- we really didn’t know if you were going to make it. I mean there was so much blood and your leg-” you squeezed his hand tighter, you were alive, you were okay. Sam’s vision darkened suddenly, his hold on yours tightening. “You should have seen him Y/N.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you cocked your head at Sam, “Who?”

“Buck, he- the soldiers held him up so he watched as you were thrown. The scream he let out I- I’ve not seen him lose it like that during a fight in years, not since-”

“The Winter Soldier.” you finished, turning your gaze to your hands. Sam could only nod.

“He cares about you, Y/N. So much. He held you to his chest the entire journey here and we practically had to tear you from his arms when we arrived.”

“Why isn’t he here now then?

Sam’s face took a different cast then, one of confusion. “I- I’m not sure actually, he said he wanted to give us some space?” You reflected his look of confusion.

“Is he still in the hospital?”

“I assume so, it wasn’t too long ago that he left,” Sam stood then, giving you a kiss on the cheek and jogging towards the door- still in full Falcon gear, “I’m gonna send him in.”

It was only a number of moments later that Bucky rounded the entrance to the doorway, his expression stricken as he froze- staring at your opened eyes, at your steady breaths. A beat passed and he sighed, moving to occupy the vacant seat that Sam had been sitting in only moments earlier. “Hey, Doll.”

“Buck,” you sighed, reaching for his twitching hand that lay at the edge of your bed, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, a glint of anger and confusion in his eyes, “I’m okay? Y/N I watched you fall from a moving truck.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat straight; wincing slightly at the pain, “I was just say-”

“No, Y/N,” Bucky snapped, “you shouldn’t even have been there in the first place, I mean what were you thinking, jumping onto a truck and taking on super soldiers that were holding me down.”

“Wow, thanks-”

“Seriously. This easily could have been prevented if your boyfriend hadn’t agreed to carry you 100 feet into the air.”

“My what-”

“I mean, come on, surely he should have your best interests in mind. The whole thing was reckless from the beginning, if I was in his position I wouldn’t have brought you.”

You sat, shell shocked, Bucky thought you and Sam were together, “Is that why you weren’t here when I woke up?”

Bucky nodded then, hurt in his eyes as he scrubbed at his stubble, “Yeah- I mean, I wanted to, you know, give you space. Let you work things out I don’t know-”

You cackled, laughing right in his face- leading to an entirely unattractive coughing fit to which Bucky was forced to clap you on the back. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you chuckled, wiping at the tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared at the silly man before you, “Bucky, me and Sam aren’t together.”

Bucky paused, seemingly halting in his tracks as he gaped at you, “What?”

“We aren’t together.”

“But-” he shook his head, having seemingly lived a lie for however long he’d believed this, “but you two have been so close I mean- every time I talk to Sam he mentions things the two of you have been doing and you’re just so close and in tune with each other I thought-”

“We’re just friends Buck,” your mouth twisted, the clarity of the situation hitting you, “Why do you even care anyway? You have a girlfriend.”

“Oh for goodness sake.” Bucky was laughing now, standing and opting to pace the room, his face filled with mirth as he continued to scrub at his stubble, “I do not have a girlfriend.”

“Sam told me you went on a date.”

“Sam told you- yeah and he conveniently missed the part where I did that in an attempt to get over you.” Bucky threw his arms up then, his expression defeated as he spoke. You could only stare back, lips pursed, eyes wide.

“Get over me?”

“Yes.”

“But, I thought-” you shook your head, “after the battle, you-you left and we never spoke again. I thought you regretted what happened. I thought-”

“Every waking moment is spent thinking about that kiss, Doll,” Bucky sighed, circling the bed to sit back at your side, taking your hand in his, “I was mourning, my best friend was gone and I knew he was going to do it but I just- I would never be ready for it, you know. Sam found me later and he was telling me all of these stories about you and- God, I’m so stupid- I presumed that the two of you had gotten together so I kept my distance. I mean, I was so in love with you that I didn’t want to ruin that for you even despite what had happened between us and- I’m so sorry Y/N.”

Tears trickled down your cheeks as you stared at the ridiculous, gorgeous man before you; you laughed again, softer and tearier this time as you reached to grab Bucky’s face, mirroring the action that he had done to you during your unconscious state, “We are so ridiculous.”

Bucky laughed too then, moving to sit at the edge of your bed and tuck the loose hair behind your ears- his cheeks were crumpled; red with embarrassment and love and longing. He leaned forward then, careful in respect of your injuries, in order to capture your lips between his. This kiss was different from your first, it was slower, less urgent- your thumbs tracing figure-of-eights into his cheeks as you didn’t carry that same weight of uncertainty as you had last time. You smiled against each other's mouths, hands trailing each other’s bodies- the back of his head, his cheeks, his back, his neck, the brass of his metal arm.

You finally felt complete, like you knew where you belonged.

#bucky barnes x reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes #falcon and the winter soldier #extremely self indulgent #sam wilson #marvel #thunderbolts #use of the doll nickname iktrrrr

[rocketrhap3000]

hint dropped

summary: while looking at rings online, you accidentally click a “send a hint” feature addressed to Bucky’s email, despite never having that conversation with him and not even knowing whether or not that’s something he wants, but his reaction surprises you :)

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long holy macaroni

warnings: topic of marriage, mentions of sex, a wee bit of angst + miscommunications, reader is kinda insecure, otherwise this is pure silly and soft fluff lol 

my main masterlist

You hadn’t intended for it to go this way. Really, you hadn’t. 

When Wanda had told you about the website, you only meant to look at rings for fun. But the more you started looking, the more you could picture the rings on your finger, and the more you could picture your wedding day with Bucky, and the more you could imagine your entire future together.

It’s cliche, but Bucky Barnes makes you the happiest person on the planet.  

However, in just over the year you’ve been together, marriage has never been something you and Bucky have ever discussed, so you really had no idea of his perspective on this whole topic. You thought the idea would scare him, judging by his reactions to anything to do with weddings, including when you invited him to be your plus one to your cousin’s wedding just a month prior.

“I don’t know why people enjoy these things. It just seems so stressful,” he told you in your hotel room after the rehearsal dinner, which, to be fair, was completely valid. 

Your cousin had been freaking out the entire afternoon, her soon-to-be groom was stressed out seeing her so anxious, and neither of them seemed happy at dinner whatsoever. So, you couldn’t figure out if Bucky was talking about the chaos of the preparation and ceremony and all the work that a wedding entails, or the actual commitment of marriage itself. 

Deep down, you know that you and Bucky are truly in love; he makes you feel extremely loved and cared for, and you could never question his loyalty to you. But a part of you is still just so scared to bring it up. You’ve only been dating for barely over a year, and you don’t really know about any of his past relationships. 

Is a year long enough for Bucky to know whether or not he sees a future with you?

Sadly, those doubts didn’t discourage you from looking at rings. They should have, though, because then you wouldn’t have this problem. 

The website’s supposed-to-be-cute ‘drop a hint’ feature didn’t have a second confirmation screen, and Bucky’s email is one of the default fill-ins on your laptop. So when you accidentally clicked his email into the box, it was sent before you could even realize what you had just done.

Doubts and fears flood your mind. He’s going to think you're too much. He’s not going to want to commit this early on. He’s not nearly into the relationship as deeply as you are. 

Scrambling through his desk drawers in search of his own laptop, you only realize your search is pointless when you hear Bucky walking through the main door. He’s just getting back from a meeting with the team. He obviously has his laptop with him. 

“Honey, I’m home,” his chipper voice calls out your favorite, cheesy way for him to announce his arrival.

You hurriedly sort the drawers of his desk back in an attempt to restore them to how you found them before racing out of his office to meet him in the front entryway.

“Hi, Sweets,” he whispers with a smile, pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Have you checked your email lately?” you ask frantically, accidentally ignoring his loving act. 

“Wow, what a greeting,” he jokes, then chuckles as his thumbs rub gently over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you say sheepishly, reaching your hand up the back of his neck and giving him a real kiss - longer and more meaningful - to make up for it. He smiles and hums against your lips, enjoying the contact just as much as you are. “How was it?” you ask quietly, rubbing his shoulders and glancing at his tired eyes. 

“Mm, boring,” he mumbles, keeping you from going too far. “Glad I can spend the rest of the day with you,” he answers, pulling you back in and kissing your temple. 

“So have you?” you ask, again, completely ignoring his affection towards you.

“Have I what?” he frowns, clearly confused. 

“Checked your email,” you finish. But the second the words come out of your mouth, you feel bad. You don’t mean to dwell on the topic, but quite frankly, it’s the only thing that you can think about. 

“Uh, no. Not recently,” he chuckles again. “Why do you ask? Should I check my email?”

“No! No reason!” you exclaim, parting from him. 

“Must be some reason if that was the first thing you asked me when I walked in the door,” he jokes. 

You ignore his remark, turning the other way and walking towards the living room. 

“(Y/n),” he calls, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to him. “Why do I need to check my email?” he asks in a whisper while a goofy smile dances across his lips. 

You hope he can’t feel your hands shaking and your pulse beating like a drum. He looks expectantly at you with those big baby blues, and your heart aches. 

“It’s nothing!” you finally say. 

“Sweets, if it takes that long for you to say it’s nothing, then it’s something,” he smiles worriedly. 

Bucky’s witty. Too clever for his own good. And for yours, too, since he knows you better than you know yourself. So you think of an excuse. 

It’s not a great one, but it will have to do. 

“Well, I was thinking you should probably empty your spam,” you mutter.

“My sp— Sweetheart, what?” he laughs.

“Yeah apparently there’s a spam virus going around infecting peoples laptops,” you mumble, and Bucky looks so confused. “Here, you can go get changed and unwind! I’ll do it for you,” you smile, trying to act natural, but you are far past that by now.

“I know I’m not great with technology, but I’m pretty sure Stark Tech is pretty impenetrable,” he chuckles, rubbing a hand over your cheek. 

“Well, let me check anyway?” you offer, reaching to take the backpack off of his shoulders. But Bucky doesn’t let the straps slide off. 

“You are being really weird right now, Sweets,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands, pulling them off his shoulders, and tugging them behind him, lovingly forcing you into a hug.

“No I’m not,” you whine quietly, leaning your forehead on his chest. 

“Yeah, ya are,” he laughs again, pulling your head up to meet your eyes and kissing your nose. “I am gonna go shower and change, and you are more than welcome to join me if you’d like,” he invites softly with a wink. 

And as desperately as you want to get that email out of his inbox, you know any further attempts are futile. You’ve made him suspicious now. He’s going to find that email no matter what. 

“I’ll stay down here,” you shake your head and swallow thickly.

“Something really must be up,” he frowns teasingly. “You never turn down shower sex.”

You know he’s just trying to get you to smile, but it doesn’t work. You stay silent. But Bucky reads you like a book.

“What’s this all about, Sweetheart? What’s got you so upset?”

“I’m fine,” you shake your head again. 

“You’re obviously not fine. I know something’s buggin’ you. But I’m not gonna pry. At least not until later,” he pokes your side, causing you to curl into yourself. 

“Stop,” you giggle, trying to hide your smile. He does as you say, taking his hands off of you the second you ask him to. 

But you lean into him again, resting your chin on his shoulder and sighing before pulling away and looking at him. He cups your face in his spacious hands, letting his thumbs run over your cheeks. 

“You know I was just teasing about the shower sex thing, right? You don’t ever have to make an excuse to me.” he whispers. You nod in his hands. “And you know I love you so much, right?” You nod again. 

“I love you, too,” you mumble back nervously against his lips. 

“I’ll be back down soon,” he promises, then laughs lightly. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not joining me. I really do need to actually shower.”

With another kiss to your forehead, you watch as he turns around and heads for the bedroom to shower and change.

You know Bucky. He’s curious. And you weren’t exactly subtle in trying to get ahold of his laptop. You know he’s going to check his email the second he gets into the bedroom. So instead of sulking about it, you busy yourself with starting on some dinner for the two of you.

But, maybe he won’t check his email. Maybe he won’t even find out. Maybe it went straight to his junk inbox where it got lost among dozens of other emails and will delete itself in 30 days. Maybe it didn’t even send. Maybe it will all be fine.

~♡~

Half an hour later, you’re still deep in the spiral of anxiety over this stupid email fiasco. Alpine makes an appearance in the kitchen, brushing up against your leg before leaping up onto the kitchen stool to let you know she’s in need of some love, and also bringing you a little comfort. You give her some scratches while deep in thought, wishing she could give you advice on how to deal with this situation.

However, your train of thought is interrupted when you hear Bucky’s footsteps echo down the hall, until he’s standing right behind you, arms slinking around your torso to hold you close. The white cat leaps down from the seat and scurries off to the living room, as if to give her mom and dad a moment alone. 

“Smells good,” he compliments, pressing a kiss to the space just behind your ear. 

“You smell good,” you sigh as you inhale a wave of his aroma - a mix of your lavender laundry detergent, and the oaky fresh scent of his body wash. Then, turning around in his grasp, you lean off of him just enough to hand him a plate of food. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he murmurs, and the two of you head to the living room with your plates of dinner to watch the next episode of the series you’ve been watching together.

But once you’re settled on the couch with dinner in your laps and the tv going, you still can't find it in you to draw your thoughts away from the email. He’s had to have seen it by now, right? He had to have checked when he went to shower. Why hasn’t he brought it up yet?

You glance over at him, his dark hair is still damp yet fluffy and curly, and his cheeks are still rosy from the hot water of his shower. He’s just too cute. If you weren’t so anxious about the current situation, you would’ve snuggled right up with him and let yourself zone out to the tv.

Bucky smiles when he catches you staring at him, clearly lost in thought again, then leans over to kiss your nose. You shake your head and scoff bashfully before he grabs both of your finished plates to set them on the coffee table. Next, he’s pulling you into his side as his arm rests behind you, sighing contently. 

“So…” he starts off with a kiss to your temple. “My laptop is, indeed, virus-free,” he finishes quietly. 

Your stomach drops. 

You knew it. He found out. 

“Yeah?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You sit up from his embrace, taking a sip of water from your glass on the table as an excuse to space yourself from him just a little.

“Yeah,” he confirms, placing a hand on your back and rubbing gently. You glance back over to him just briefly as he continues. “But there was something else that caught my attention,” he smiles, tilting his head. 

“Oh?” you query, settling back against the couch, but further away from him, as you turn back to stare blankly at the tv screen, trying your best to play dumb for as long as you can.

“Darlin’,” he starts, and you think you might pass out because of how fast your heart is beating. ”Why was there a... catalogue... for wedding rings with the caption ‘take a hint!’ in my inbox?” he laughs lightly. 

“Mm?” you barely respond, your voice hardly coming out. “No clue.”

“Oh, really?” he smiles. “That... wouldn’t be what you were trying to hide from me, would it?”

He waits a second, knowing you’re pretending to not hear him, then grabs the remote to click off the tv. 

“Sweets,” he chuckles lightly, gently turning you to face him. 

Tears begin to burn at the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s wrapped in barbed wire. You swallow hard, finally making eye contact with Bucky. 

His eyes are soft and understanding, shimmering with a certain sparkle that always brings you so much comfort. You know he loves you so much. 

“Is this what you were freaking out about?” he asks again softly. 

You nod hesitantly, chest tightening with panic. 

“I didn’t mean to send it to you!” you exclaim, choking back tears.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he laughs softly, reaching out to cup your face with his right hand.

“So… so you’re not mad?” you say as your bottom lip wobbles.

A tear rolls down your cheek when you blink and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

“Mad? Sweetheart, of course not,” he coos, swiping the tear from your cheek. “Why in the world would I be mad?” 

Your chest immediately feels lighter and your head stops spinning once you recognize he’s not upset at all.

“I don’t know,” you answer bashfully and with a sniffle. “We’ve never really talked about it. And we’ve only been together for a year. I mean, that’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. So I didn’t know how you felt.”

“Felt about what?” he asks sweetly, slightly tilting his head in confusion.

“Getting married,” you answer quietly, casting your gaze to your lap.

“(Y/n),” he begins, lifting your face to get you to look up at him. When you do, his ocean blue eyes stare right into yours, and another great wave of comfort washes over you. “I want it all with you. Everything.”

“Everything?” you ask shyly. 

“Yes, everything,” he chuckles. “Plenty more dates. An engagement. A beautiful wedding. An incredible honeymoon,” he leans forward to kiss you slowly, and you giggle giddily when he pulls away. “And maybe even a kid or two. Or maybe just a dog or another cat. I know Alpine would make the best big sister. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. I want it all with you, Sweetheart,” he repeats. 

“You do?” you sniffle again. 

“Of course I do. I absolutely see a future with you, (Y/n). I couldn’t imagine it without you.  I’m so sorry that I made you think otherwise.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head, placing a hand on his cheek. “You know how I overthink.”

Well, still. I should’ve been more direct with my feelings,” he turns his head to kiss your palm. “How long have you been worrying about this, Sweets?”

“Bucky, it’s really okay,” you assure him. “I’ve always kind of wondered, but it really wasn’t until this morning, when I was… looking at rings,” you admit.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “But will you let me know if there’s a style or a specific ring that’s caught your attention? I just gotta know. Just… for future reference,” he winks slyly.

“I mean, there are a few I liked,” you shrug shyly.

“Well, let me see!” he says, jumping from the couch to run and grab his laptop.

“Bucky,” you laugh, trying to get him to stay, but he’s far stronger than you are, and he breaks away, grabs his laptop, and sprints back to the couch to secure you in his embrace in a matter of seconds.

“Show me,” he softly demands, clicking on the link from the email, which pulls up the website as he hands the laptop over to you.

“Okay,” you giggle as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him as you scroll through the choices to find the one that caught your eye. “There was... this one.”

“That’s gorgeous, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “So many to choose from, too. You’d look perfect with any of ‘em.”

“Bucky,” you smile bashfully, and a giddy heat settles on your cheeks at his compliment.

“It’s true!” he insists, then hums before speaking up again. “So... on a completely unrelated note...” you see a playful smirk form on his beautiful face. “What is your ring size... and where’s your dream vacation destination?”

Laughter escapes from your chest - relieved that the entire situation has been resolved and you had been worried for nothing. 

“I guess I’m not sure of either just yet,” you reply, and Bucky laughs along with you.

“Well, let me know when you have an answer. ‘Cause I can’t imagine making my girl wait much longer,” he whispers the last part, and your heart flutters in your chest, prompting you to shut the laptop, set it on the coffee table in front of you, and snuggle up with Bucky, wrapping your arms around his strong frame.

“I love you, Bucky,” you murmur into his chest. 

“I love you most, Sweetheart,” he echoes, kissing the top of your head and already starting to plan how he’ll ask you to marry him. 

Because little did you, or even Bucky, know that your little technology mishap was just the encouragement he needed to get that ring, plan a romantic getaway, and propose, starting off a beautiful future together.

~~~

a/n: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed it, i would love to hear your feedback and would greatly appreciate a reblog! 💘🫶

#bucky barnes #tfatws #marvel #avengers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier #the white wolf #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan

[kaynothanks]

On His Collar | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader

Warnings: bucky’s one jealous boi, lil bit of violence, no smut which (for me) really is surprising, smooching, being caught

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands off you and your brother notices

Word-Count: 12.3K

With a nervous gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you were only half-aware of your leg's relentless fidgeting. Your eyes remained affixed to the world beyond the car window, the landscape blurring as the vehicle, courtesy of Zemo's orchestration, sped on. Vague details of the city drawing closer had filtered through to you via documents and whispers; the scant knowledge of its shadowy dealings enough to stir an unsettling churn within your chest. From a distance, Madripoor was breathtaking, its myriad lights flickering through the rain's swift descent, captured momentarily on the glass before you.

This fleeting illumination conjured memories of a night several months prior, when a call in the deep, silent hours had pierced your tranquility. Urged by his voice, laced with an unspoken desperation, you hadn't hesitated. Your car had cut through the sleeping city of New York, a beacon in the dark, drawn to alleviate his turmoil. The lights of that night, though bearing a resemblance to the ones now stretched before you, held a beauty tinged with a personal touch, perhaps making them appear even more enchanting.

You released a breath tinged with anxiety, your fingers idly tracing the edge of the scant dress that, for reasons unknown, Zemo had at his disposal. The material, with its thinness and the overlay of silver glitter, chafed against your skin, a constant reminder of its presence. However, the knowledge of Zemo's opulent wealth lent you the perspective that this barely-there garment might indeed possess a value surpassing the collective worth of your entire wardrobe.

"You good?" came your brother's voice, close enough to stir the air by your ear, pulling your attention sharply towards him.

For a fleeting moment, you found yourself studying him, ensnared in your own whirlpool of anxiety. The furrow of worry etching deep between his brows sent a sharp pang through your heart. Witnessing this, a desperate plea bubbled within you, a silent yearning for him to cease his endless vigil over you—to halt his attempts at shielding you from every conceivable harm, to stop viewing you through the lens of perpetual childhood, to simply cease the worry that seemed to etch itself into his very being. The thought of being the source of such profound distress, such tangible sorrow for him, was more than you could bear. Heaven knows, the troubles you'd landed yourself in, the predicaments from which he'd extricated you time and again, were countless, far beyond what your fingers could tally.

Sam was the epitome of the brother everyone should be blessed with. From the tender years of your childhood, he had been the figure you looked up to, the beacon that guided many of the choices that had shaped your life. And in the wake of your father's passing, his protective instincts didn't just increase; they surged, enveloping you in a steadfast, unwavering care. He was your rock, your constant, in a world that seemed all too ready to shift beneath your feet. Always there, without fail.

Your decisions often found themselves at odds with his views, sparking debates that seemed as endless as they were passionate. A vivid memory that stood out was when you announced your intention to follow in his footsteps and join the Marines. What ensued was a marathon two-hour discourse, laden with reasons he believed painted a vivid picture of why the military was a mismatch for someone like you. You had absorbed every word, every concern, yet your resolve had remained unshaken. In hindsight, the wisdom woven into his admonitions might have merited deeper consideration, a realization that dawned on you with greater clarity once you found yourself deployed to the turbulent south.

It was there, amidst the chaos and the distance from home, that you began to truly comprehend the depth of Sam's anxiety for your well-being—a sentiment that became reciprocal as concern for your family gnawed at you. Sarah, battling to keep the family business afloat while nurturing two young boys in Sam's absence, became a focal point of your worries. Meanwhile, Sam's life, veiled in the secrecy of countless missions, left a chasm between your shared experiences. Often, he returned with stories he couldn't share, silences that spoke louder than words, deepening your understanding of the burdens he carried and the protective shield he tried to extend over you from miles away.

Had you heeded his words, the tapestry of your life might have been woven with different threads, perhaps even brighter hues. Imagine a reality where you had chosen to stand by Sarah's side, absorbing the tranquility of domestic life rather than the chaos of battle. In that alternate existence, your path would never have intersected with the harrowing battlefield against Thanos. Your presence in the thick of that fight was nothing short of serendipitous, a stark coincidence born from a casual visit to him just as the alarm bells of invasion clanged their ominous toll.

The details of your unexpected journey to Wakanda are shrouded in the mists of adrenaline-fueled urgency, a memory blurred at the edges by the sheer intensity of facing an extraterrestrial threat for the first time. It was an initiation by fire into a reality far removed from anything you had ever known or imagined.

Yet, amidst the whirlwind of chaos and the blur of combat, one memory stands etched with crystal clarity—the visceral sensation of teetering on the brink of oblivion. The cold brush with death is an experience that lingers, a stark reminder of mortality that paints every moment with a sharper contrast, a memory that forever shapes your understanding of life, resilience, and the fragility of existence.

You had weathered the storms of human conflict, battles steeped in the folly and hubris of mankind, but never before had you faced a legion from beyond the stars, intent on culling half of all life in the universe. In the shadow of such an unfathomable threat, your own mortality had seemed inconsequential, dwarfed by the incalculable lives teetering on the edge of annihilation. Driven by a newfound recklessness, a fiery resolve to make a difference, you had abandoned the post Sam had painstakingly chosen for you. You had forsaken safety, charging headlong towards Thanos, the architect of doom.

To him, you were but a speck, a mere human too insignificant to warrant attention, and he had dismissed you with the ease of one swatting away an irritating fly. Yet, with your firearm spent, desperation had lent you audacity. You had launched yourself onto his colossal frame, a knife clutched in your fist, the last vestige of your defiance. You were acutely aware of the invincibility that his skin professed, an armor no earthly might had pierced with lasting effect. But ambition—or perhaps the raw edge of survival—drove you to attempt the impossible: to excise one of the gleaming Infinity Stones from its gauntlet perch.

And in that breathless moment, as your blade kissed the surface of the gauntlet, Thanos's fingers curled into a fateful snap.

The universe hung in the balance, suspended on the cusp of his action and your audacious defiance. Time itself seemed to stand still, awaiting the outcome of a confrontation that had spiraled far beyond the realms of imagination.

When consciousness reclaimed you, five years had vanished into the ether, and you awoke to a world that had moved on without you. The sight that greeted you was your own veins, pulsating with an uncanny luminescence, casting a ghostly glow over the skin they webbed. Your body, once a familiar vessel, now refused the basic command to rise, leaving you sprawled and powerless on the ground. If only you had heeded Sam's directive, you mused bitterly, you might have remained untouched by this curse, spared the constant, gnawing anxiety that now made a den in your heart. Fear had become your unwelcome shadow, looming over you with endless "what ifs." The thought of unintentionally unleashing harm, of your very essence becoming a cataclysmic force capable of leveling cities, was a nightmare that played on an endless loop in your mind.

Through it all, Sam had been your anchor in the tempest, steadfast even as you spiraled into a mire of self-distrust. For three agonizing months, he had nursed you through the turmoil of accepting this altered existence, an existence marked by an estrangement from your own being. Comfort in your own skin had become a foreign concept, an elusive state that you feared might elude you indefinitely. Nowadays, every flicker of your fingers was accompanied by a torrent of anxiety, a silent battle waged between mind and heart. With each throb of your pulse, a cacophony of fears whispered the possibility of harming the one constant in your life—your brother. This new reality was a labyrinth with no visible exit, a path you tread with trepidation, haunted by the potential havoc you could wreak with a mere gesture, a thought, a slip of control.

You took a deep breath, your fingers nervously adjusting the sleek black leather gloves that now served as a barrier between your touch and the world, a precaution against the inadvertent destruction your mere contact could cause. For a fleeting moment, your gaze drifted to him, taking in the precise way his ebony locks were coifed, a style so meticulously arranged atop his head. The shortness of his hair, a detail so starkly different from before, still felt alien to your eyes. Catching his gaze already fixed on you, a silent exchange that spoke volumes, you redirected your attention back to your brother, mustering a smile tinged with awkwardness. "Of course. Stop worrying," you whispered, attempting to lace your voice with reassurance, even as your heart wrestled with its own tempest of concerns.

"I'm your big brother," he reminded you, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness as if introducing a fact that might have somehow slipped your mind. "That's my job," he added, a declaration of his unwavering role in your life.

Gotta be a real thankless job, you mused silently, the thought echoing wryly within the confines of your mind. "How haven't I fired you yet?" you quipped back, a teasing lilt in your voice as you nudged him gently with your elbow, inviting a moment of light-hearted banter between the gravity of your shared experiences.

His response was an exaggerated gasp, a playful act that drew a slight, amused smile across your face. Without missing a beat, he turned to the conspicuously silent super-soldier beside him. "Ey, Bucky," he called out, seemingly plucking his next words from thin air with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did I tell you about that one time, when Y/n was seven and she peed—"

"Oh my god, Sam, stop!" The words flew from your lips as you reached out to silence him, your hand slapping his shoulder before trying to cover his mouth, a futile attempt to stem the flow of embarrassing tales. Your cheeks flushed with a warmth that radiated from the deep-seated embarrassment of the memory, vivid as if it had happened just yesterday, rather than years ago.

"I apologize for interrupting your camaraderie," Zemo's voice, laced with a hint of formality, cut through the air from the front seat. His eyes found yours in the rearview mirror, carrying a mix of apology and inevitability. "Unfortunately, my driver can proceed no further."

Zemo was the first to emerge from the vehicle, setting the tone for a swift exit. Sam was quick on his heels, nearly leaping from the car at the sight of Bucky preparing to disembark. The super-soldier merely rolled his eyes at the urgency, a silent testament to his annoyance, before he too followed suit, stepping into the open air.

Left alone for a brief moment, you lingered in the cocoon of the car's interior, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The unease knotted in your stomach, a familiar harbinger of doom, seemed to grip tighter with each passing second. Yet, as you prepared to step out into the uncertain world beyond the car's confines, a flicker of hope dared to whisper through your thoughts. Perhaps, just this once, the ominous premonition that twisted your insides would prove false. Maybe, after a stretch of relentless storms, a moment of calm awaited you. With that fragile hope cradled in your chest, you ventured forth, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Navigating the bustling streets of the city, your senses were on high alert, eyes darting left and right in a mix of wariness and awe. Every sound, every blur of movement was cataloged, an overwhelming flood of stimuli as you endeavored to absorb the essence of the place. Ahead of you, the three men moved with a purposeful stride, seemingly indifferent to the sensory overload that ensnared you. Or so it appeared, until a momentary glance to the side caught Bucky mid-observation, his head subtly angled in your direction. The instant he realized he'd been noticed, his gaze snapped forward, a silent admission of his watchfulness.

A small, knowing smile played on your lips as you continued your exploration, your attention now on the eclectic mix of individuals that populated the streets. Their attire was a vivid tapestry of the city's culture and complexity, each person a unique thread woven into the larger fabric. In this context, Zemo's insistence on changing your clothing became crystal clear. Clad in your usual cargo pants and top, you would have stood out starkly, a beacon of foreignness in this richly diverse crowd. It would have been akin to parading around with a neon sign branded "idiot," announcing your outsider status to every discerning eye. His foresight, though begrudgingly acknowledged, spared you that unwitting declaration of naivety.

In the mosaic of your life, Bucky Barnes occupied a space that was both vivid and complex, interwoven with threads of intimacy and shared secrets, away from the prying eyes of your overprotective brother, Sam. Your connection with Bucky had evolved, nurtured by the clandestine moments and deep conversations that unfolded in the quiet corners of New York's bustling cityscape.

It began with chance encounters, two souls adrift in the vastness of the city, finding solace in the understanding gaze of the other. These meetings grew in frequency and depth, transitioning from fleeting to intentional, as you both sought the comfort and understanding that seemed to elude you elsewhere. The shared experience of navigating a world that often felt too constricting, too demanding, became the foundation of your bond.

Your relationship with Bucky was a tapestry of silent understandings and whispered confidences. There were evenings spent in his modest apartment, where the glow of the city lights barely filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a soft luminescence. Here, amidst the shadows, you shared parts of yourselves that had been carefully guarded from the rest of the world. Bucky, with his guarded heart and weary eyes, found in you a kindred spirit, someone who could see beyond the Winter Soldier to the man who was still standing beneath.

These moments of vulnerability were your secret, a world built for two, where words were often unnecessary. You had memorized the layout of his apartment, the contents of each cupboard and drawer, not through any explicit intention but through the natural intimacy that comes from shared spaces and shared silences. It was in the way you could wordlessly hand him a glass of water from his kitchen without having to ask where he kept his glasses, or how the two of you could sit in comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts yet together.

Yet, this closeness was kept hidden, a chapter of your life unread by Sam. Not out of deceit but from a desire to protect this fragile connection from external judgments or expectations. With Sam's protective instincts, your relationship with Bucky was a delicate balance, a treasure trove of moments and memories that you both guarded fiercely.

The complexity of your relationship with Bucky was not defined by labels or expectations but by the depth of connection and mutual understanding. It was a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most profound relationships are those that exist in the spaces between words, in the comfort of silence, and in the shared experiences of two souls navigating the world side by side.

The inexplicable flutter in your heart whenever Bucky was near often left you questioning your own sanity, yet there was something undeniably captivating about the way he made you feel. The warmth that crept into your cheeks as you reminisced about a lazy afternoon spent in the park was a testament to this. It was a simple moment, really—Bucky's admission of his aversion to text messaging because he preferred the sound of your voice had somehow managed to send your heart into a delightful somersault. In that instant, you understood the unspoken pact between you two: to keep the depth of your connection hidden from your brother.

This secret camaraderie you shared with Bucky was treasured quietly, a series of moments and feelings kept just between the two of you. Bucky, too, found solace in your presence. The way you looked at him, with eyes filled with genuine affection and understanding, offered him a tranquility he had long thought was beyond his grasp. Your smile was like a beacon to him, urging him to open up about his past, his fears, and his dreams, despite the darkness that shadowed much of his history. Yet, of all the things that drew him closer, it was your laughter that he cherished most.

Your laughter wasn't restrained or demure; it was the kind that bubbled up from deep within, unfiltered and infectious. Those moments when you would laugh so heartily, throwing your head back without a care in the world, were the ones that Bucky held dear. It was in these bursts of genuine joy that he saw the lightness of being, a stark contrast to the battles and burdens he carried. Your laughter, free and unabashed, symbolized a purity of happiness that Bucky admired. It reminded him that amidst the complexities of life, there existed simple, unguarded moments of joy worth cherishing.

In the twilight of Bucky's life, where happiness seemed more a memory than a possibility, the moments he shared with you illuminated his world with an unexpected joy. Time and again, he teetered on the brink of asking you to intertwine your lives officially, to step beyond the unspoken boundaries of your secret affinity and declare it openly. Yet, each time the words perched on the edge of his tongue, ready to leap into the abyss of possibilities, the thought of Sam cast a long shadow over his resolve.

Sam, the steadfast pillar of your family, was a friend to Bucky in every sense except in name, for their camaraderie was too complex and layered for simple labels. Bucky was acutely aware of the fierce love Sam harbored for you, a protective and encompassing love that was both admirable and intimidating. He knew of the cherished photograph Sam carried in his wallet—a tangible reminder of the bond shared between you, your sister, and his beloved nephews, a snapshot of the life Sam fought so valiantly to protect.

And it was the thought of Sam, with his unwavering loyalty and brotherly love, that stayed Bucky's confession. He was painfully aware of the turmoil that would ensue should Sam discover the depth of his feelings for you. Bucky could almost feel the weight of Sam's betrayal and anger, for in his heart, he knew that his affection for you crossed lines that Sam might never forgive. This tension, this fear of fracturing the fragile truce they had built, kept Bucky silent, trapped in a limbo of longing and loyalty, where his desire to claim your heart battled with his respect for the brother who would view such a confession as the ultimate treachery.

As Zemo led the way, weaving through a throng of onlookers whose eyes darted with a mix of curiosity and caution, the air buzzed with hushed whispers that all seemed to echo the same question: "Is that the Winter Soldier?" Yet, if only they could see beyond the infamy and the scars of war, they'd find Bucky. This was the same Bucky who had once called you in a panic, deep into the night, baffled by the modern conundrum of ordering a television online. The same Bucky who shared with you his playlist of favorite songs, tunes you never expected to enjoy, yet found yourself playing on repeat. And this was the Bucky who, in an earnest attempt to teach you to dance, ended up with you standing on his feet, both of you moving in a clumsy but heartwarming harmony across the floor.

Arriving at the bar, you edged closer to Zemo and Bucky, the latter noticing your approach and subtly shifting to grant you more space. "Good evening," greeted the bartender with a nod towards Sam, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger."

The effort to suppress a grin was Herculean as the nickname filled the air. Your brother, Sam, for all his bravery and skill, was many things, but a master thespian he was not. Tonight, he was to embody Conrad Mack, or "Smiling Tiger," a persona draped in notoriety and whispered about in the darkest corners of the criminal underworld. Knowing Sam's theatrical limits, the anticipation of watching him navigate the guise of an African gangster tinged your apprehension with a thread of amusement, painting the night ahead with the promise of unforgettable moments.

"Plans have shifted," Zemo interjected smoothly, answering on behalf of Sam, who tightened his lips in an attempt at solemnity. The sight was almost comical; Sam's expression ventured into the realms of absurdity. "We have business with Selby tonight."

A cloak of skepticism draped over the bartender's demeanor, his eyes—a mix of inquiry and caution—peered from behind the substantial frames of his glasses. His visage, half-obscured by a beard, seemed out of place in this den of shadows and whispered secrets. One could easily mistake him for a tech wizard from the polished corridors of Stark Industries rather than a keeper of this clandestine establishment.

"The usual, then?" the bartender queried. Sam, lips still tightly sealed, offered a single, determined nod, his posture shifting slightly with unease. With practiced ease, the bartender turned to retrieve a jar housing a deceased equatorial spitting cobra, laying it out with a certain reverence on the cutting board before you. He wielded a knife, expertly slicing the serpent open to extract its heart. This he placed in a shot glass, to which he added a dash of Triple sec, a measure of gin, and a squeeze of finger lime, concocting a drink that teetered on the edge of the exotic and the macabre. Sliding the glass towards Sam, the air was momentarily thick with anticipation.

"Ahh," Zemo exhaled, a chuckle threatening to breach his composure. "The Smiling Tiger, your favorite." The room hung in a momentary suspense, the bizarre ritual highlighting the lengths to which one might go to blend into the shadows of this underworld.

As you reluctantly redirected your attention away from the unsavory scene, your eyes found solace in Bucky's gaze. The moment of eye contact with the super-soldier was like a silent pact, conveying volumes in the briefest exchange. “I think the next part’s worth watching.” His suggestion was delivered in a hush, his voice a soft, enticing caress against the delicate skin of your neck, sparking a cascade of warmth that pooled in the pit of your stomach. You darted a quick look around, half-expecting the assembled throng to notice this intimate exchange. Yet, their attention remained steadfastly on the notorious figure of the Winter Soldier, allowing you a sliver of privacy in the crowded space.

Turning back towards your brother, you endeavored to steady your racing heart, to cloak the fluttering butterflies that Bucky's nearness had unfurled within you. But it was akin to trying to calm a storm with whispered words; Bucky's heat enveloped you, a comforting yet unnerving presence. Then, almost imperceptibly, he edged closer, a mere shift that breached the scant distance between you. His chest hovered just shy of touching your back, a whisper of contact that electrified your senses.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up, muscles tensing, heart thundering against your ribcage as if seeking escape. The air seemed to thicken, each breath a labor through the heightened tension that his proximity wrought. The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with a heat that was both foreign and intoxicating. A shiver coursed through you, unbidden, as you fought the urge to lean back into him, to seek solace in the strength of his embrace. His presence, so close and yet so restrained, left you teetering on the edge of something profound, a precipice overlooking a maelstrom of uncharted emotions and desires.

The atmosphere in the dimly lit, cramped space was charged with an uneasy anticipation as Sam steeled himself to down the concoction before him – the alcohol mingling with the snake's heart in a display of grit and resolve. Standing beside him, you could almost taste the bile rising in your own throat at the thought, empathy for Sam's predicament tangling with your own visceral reaction. It was in this moment of vicarious revulsion that you felt it—a touch so light, so fleeting on your arm that it could have been mistaken for a trick of the air, save for the deep, intrinsic knowledge that it was Bucky. His touch, though minimal, carried with it a warmth and a reassurance that seemed to cut through the tension of the moment, grounding you.

This gentle caress, lost to anyone else's perception, was like a beacon to your heightened senses, which seemed to come alive with a fervor that only Bucky's presence could ignite. It was a silent communication, a shared moment amidst the chaos, confirming that his attention was riveted not on the grotesque spectacle unfolding with your brother but on you. And then, without need for visual confirmation, you sensed the subtle shift in his posture, the lean of his body just close enough for you to catch the light inhale as he discreetly breathed in the scent of your hair. The intimacy of the action, hidden in plain sight, had your eyelids fluttering close, teetering on the edge of surrender to the sensation.

But the moment was shattered by the intrusion of a new, deep voice, unfamiliar and brusque, pulling Bucky's gaze away from you for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The voice belonged to a tattooed biker who had sidled up beside Zemo, breaking the spell that had cocooned you and Bucky in your private world. Yet, even as Bucky's eyes momentarily flicked to the newcomer, assessing and then dismissing him as a threat, his hand lingered on your arm, a silent vow of protection and an unwillingness to completely sever the thread of connection between you.

When the biker had disappeared back into the throng of the bar's patrons, Bucky's voice, low and resonant, brushed your cheek, "A Power Broker, really?" His breath was a warm caress, a contrast to the cool air of the bar and the cold reality of their mission.

Zemo's response was a shrug, nonchalant yet laden with the weight of their precarious position within this den of intrigue and danger. "Every kingdom needs its king. Let's just pray we stay under his radar." The words were a stark reminder of the peril that shadowed their every step, yet, for a fleeting moment, the only truth that seemed to matter was the connection between you and Bucky, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that thrived even in the heart of danger.

As your brother subtly leaned in, distancing himself from the ears of the surrounding strangers, his voice carried a note of quiet inquiry, "Do you know him?" His gaze was sharp, the weight of leadership and concern pressing upon his features, a look you knew all too well.

Zemo, ever the enigmatic figure, glanced briefly over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the teeming masses of Madripoor's underworld. "Only by reputation," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of wariness. He continued, his tone lowering to match the gravity of his words, "He is judge, jury, and executioner in Madripoor." The way Zemo articulated the roles imbued them with a sense of dread, painting a picture of a figure wielding absolute power over life and death in this lawless land.

As Sam prepared to step back, blending once more into the crowded backdrop of the bar, his gaze inadvertently fell upon Bucky's hand, a subtle yet intimate gesture resting gently on your arm. The silent question was evident in the arch of his brow, a wordless probe into the nature of the connection he had just witnessed. Despite the many shared battles and secrets between you, this particular nuance of your relationship with Bucky remained veiled from Sam's knowledge. He knew of the camaraderie, the shared jokes, and the mutual respect; what he had yet to grasp was the depth that lay beneath those surface interactions.

Caught under the weight of your brother's scrutiny, you felt a compelling urge to divert, to shield the budding complexity of your relationship with Bucky from any further inquiry. With a practiced nonchalance, you reached for the glass that had mysteriously found its way before you—its contents unknown but suddenly invaluable as a means of distraction. The glass felt cool against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through your chest, fueled by Bucky's proximity and the intensity of your brother's gaze.

Without granting Sam the acknowledgment he sought, you lifted the glass, the liquid inside catching the dim light of the bar in a fleeting dance of shadows. With a resolve born of necessity, you downed the contents in one swift motion, the liquid tracing a burning path down your throat, a physical manifestation of the turmoil swirling within. In that moment, the intricacies of your heart's desires, the silent yearnings, and the whispered dreams shared in the quiet with Bucky were drowned in the sharp bite of the drink. There was no love life to dissect, you reasoned, at least not one that could be neatly explained or openly acknowledged under the watchful eyes of your brother. This was a complexity you were not yet ready to unravel, preferring instead the sanctity of ambiguity and the solace found in the unspoken.

From the periphery of your vision, the subtle yet unmistakable shift of the crowd's focus toward your group sent a ripple of tension through the air. Zemo, breaking the mounting silence, uttered something in Russian, his voice a sharp command that instantly put Bucky, who loomed protectively behind you, on high alert. Your grasp of Russian might have been rudimentary at best, but the gravity carried by the word "attack" pierced through any language barrier, sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze darted anxiously between Bucky and Zemo, then to the increasingly hostile encirclement of men.

In a moment driven by instinct more than thought, your hand found Bucky's arm, a silent plea for restraint, an acknowledgment of the heavy burdens he bore and the battles you wished he wouldn't have to fight again. Yet, as the hand of an adversary reached for Zemo, intent on aggression, Bucky's protective instincts overrode any hesitations. The mission's success, the preservation of your collective guise, demanded action.

With a fluidity born of countless battles, Bucky intercepted the stranger's hand, wrenching it into a grim contortion of pain before hoisting him by the collar. The air was punctuated by the thud of the man's body crashing to the ground, a clear signal to the onlookers who, rather than stepping in, recoiled to the safety of the crowd's edges. Their initial shock quickly gave way to the modern reflex of capturing chaos on their smartphones, eager to document the return of the Winter Soldier.

Another assailant lunged forward, driven either by bravado or foolishness, only to meet Bucky's calculated fury. A swift strike to the chest paired with a debilitating kick to the shin sent the man staggering, a prelude to the crushing force of Bucky's elbow against his back. But Bucky was far from done; he delivered a final, forceful kick to the assailant's stomach with such power that the man was propelled backward, colliding with another would-be attacker and sending them both sprawling to the ground.

In those tense moments, Bucky transformed the immediate vicinity into a no-man's land, a clear warning to any who still harbored thoughts of joining the fray. The message was unambiguous: the Winter Soldier, though cloaked in the guise of Bucky Barnes, remained a formidable force, his actions a blend of precision and power that left no room for doubt or defiance.

The melee unfolded with relentless ferocity, each blow landing with a chilling finality. Amidst the chaos, Zemo's unexpected touch on your waist snapped your attention sharply to him, an unwelcome distraction amidst the turmoil. His fingers were cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the skirmish that raged a mere breath away. Holding a shot glass, with another stationed invitingly before him on the bar's counter, Zemo seemed almost nonchalant, as if the violent ballet unfolding around you two was mere background noise.

You could only hope that Sam's gaze was entirely consumed by the spectacle of the fight, lest Zemo's audacity earn him a swift and severe reprimand—the kind that involved a painful reconfiguration of his hand's anatomy. And, should Sam's protective instincts flare up, your carefully maintained cover would be shattered in an instant.

"So," Zemo initiated casually, offering you the glass while securing his own. His demeanor was eerily calm, a man unfazed by the chaos, his curiosity piqued by personal intrigues rather than the potential dangers that lurked in your immediate vicinity. "How long have you and James been seeing each other?"

His question caught you off guard, a blunt intrusion that left you momentarily flustered. "Excuse you?" you retorted, the sharpness in your voice mirroring your surprise.

He downed his shot in one fluid motion, a satisfied exhale following the liquid's descent. "Oh," he dismissed with a nonchalant wave of his hand, a gesture that belied the keen observation behind his words. "Your brother might be wearing blinders, but I certainly do not. It's been quite evident that Barnes has scarcely glanced away from you all evening."

You found yourself grappling for a response, the unexpected scrutiny leaving you unsettled. "Well, uh," you stumbled over your words, grappling for composure. "It's just what he does—staring." Your gaze dropped to the shot glass cradled in your palm, its contents suddenly more appealing than the conversation. With a swift tilt of your hand, you emptied the glass, the liquid courage coursing through you. Instinctively, you braced yourself for whatever probing questions Zemo might pose next, bolstered now by a fleeting rush of boldness from the alcohol.

Zemo's attention subtly shifted behind you, a prelude to his hand sneaking once more to your waist. A wry smirk played at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear with a whispered directive, "Get ready." Immobilized by a sudden rush of surprise, you found yourself momentarily unable to react, your mind racing to process the unwelcome proximity.

As you regained your composure, indignation fueling your resolve, your hands began to rise, intent on removing his intrusion. Yet, before you could act, a familiar and comforting warmth enveloped your back. A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as a low, protective growl resonated from behind you, a primal sound that spoke volumes of the tension filling the air.

In the blink of an eye, Zemo's hand was forcibly removed from you, Bucky's intervention swift and silent. The warning in Bucky's eyes was unmistakable, a clear message that brooked no argument. His grip on Zemo's hand tightened, a silent demonstration of his protective instincts. The strain was evident as Zemo's face flushed, a crimson wave ascending his neck in stark contrast to his paling face, a vivid testament to the discomfort and possibly fear induced by Bucky's ironclad hold.

Observing the intensity of the moment, you placed your hand gently atop Bucky's, seeking to diffuse the tension. "It's okay," you whispered soothingly, a plea for peace. "Let him go." Your voice, though soft, carried the weight of your concern, hoping to coax Bucky back from the brink of further conflict.

With a grudging release of pressure, Bucky acquiesced to your request, albeit with a distasteful grunt. He allowed Zemo the mercy of an unbroken hand, a testament to his respect for your wishes. The moment, charged with silent confrontations and unspoken bonds, highlighted the deep connection between you and Bucky, a bond that transcended mere words, resonating with loyalty, protection, and an unyielding sense of unity.

The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy cloud that seemed to weigh down every breath, until the bartender's voice sliced through the silence with the precision of a well-honed blade. "Selby will see you now," he announced, effectively diffusing the charged atmosphere. As you were ushered down the dimly lit corridor by a group of stern-faced men, the arrangement was strategic: Zemo leading, followed by Sam, with you nestled securely in the middle, and Bucky bringing up the rear, his vigilant gaze ensuring no threat would find its way to you unnoticed.

In a fluid motion born of protective instinct, Bucky's fingers found your wrist, gently but firmly pulling you aside into the seclusion of the shadowed alcove. The dim light played across his features, casting deep shadows that sculpted his face with an intensity that was almost breathtaking. His rugged attractiveness, framed in the half-light, struck you with a force that made your heart flutter. "Are you okay?" you found yourself asking, drawn into the complexity of emotions that danced within his eyes. It was clear he was wrestling with his own turmoil, yet his proximity to you, so near that the soft flutter of your eyelashes could have brushed against his cheek, seemed to both unsettle and anchor him.

“Next time he grabs you like that—” He cut himself of, jaw clenching.

As you laid your hand against the solid warmth of his chest in a comforting gesture, a ripple of tension eased from his frame. "It's okay," your whisper broke the intimate silence between you, your gaze lifting to meet his. "I'm okay, promise. He was just trying to get under your skin."

His eyes, a mirror to his soul, roamed over your features with an intensity that felt as though he was memorizing every detail, every curve, and contour, before finally settling back into your gaze. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" His voice, soft yet filled with an emotion that resonated deep within your chest, enveloped you in a warmth that went beyond the physical closeness. In that moment, amidst the shadows and whispers of danger, a connection forged in the crucible of shared experiences and unspoken understanding deepened, transcending the chaos of the world outside.

Your smile, blossoming in response to Bucky's unexpected compliment, was abruptly cut short by Zemo's call for the Winter Soldier, reverberating ominously off the walls. A mutual sigh of resignation passed between you and Bucky. With a bite to your lip, signaling the gravity of the interruption, you took a hesitant step back, murmuring, "We should go."

Bucky's response was a tight nod, the muscles along his jawline tensing visibly as he too made the difficult choice to distance himself. The atmosphere shifted palpably as you entered Selby's domain. She was ensconced regally in an armchair, her fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against its worn fabric, embodying the calm before the storm. "You should know, Baron," she began, her voice cool and measured, "people don’t just come into my bar and make demands."

Zemo, unfazed, countered with equal calmness, "Not a demand, an offer."

Selby's demeanor hinted at a mix of curiosity and caution as she observed the changes in her domain and the players within it. "A lot has changed since you were here last," she remarked, her gaze sliding over Bucky with undisguised interest. "By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?"

Zemo, settling himself before Selby with a nonchalance born of confidence, merely shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "People like us always find a way, don’t we? I'm sure you've already figured out what I am here for."

Selby, her attention never straying from Zemo, extended a languid finger toward your brother, her voice taking on a teasing, almost flirtatious tone. "You're taller than I'd heard, Smiling Tiger," she purred, her grin sharp as a knife's edge, before shifting her focus back to Zemo. "What's the offer?"

"Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum." Zemo's command hung in the air, heavy with implication. He rose, his movements deliberate, as he made his way to where Bucky and you stood in a silent vigil. The audacity of his next offer sliced through the tension like a cold blade. "And I give you him," Zemo gestured towards Bucky with a chilling casualness, "along with the code words that control him, of course." His fingers dared to trace a path along Bucky's jawline, a presumptuous gesture that hinted at possession. "He will do anything you want." You moved your hand to brush against his, blocking the view with your body, not wanting your cover to blow, also not wanting Bucky to blow up because of the over-the-top trade Zemo was talking about, which he hadn’t disclosed with you "Now, that’s the Zemo I remember," Selby's voice curled with a mix of admiration and threat, her lips twisting into a grin that was as dangerous as it was pleased. "I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately." She mused aloud, nodding to herself as if affirming her own wisdom. "Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right." Zemo, with a nod acknowledging the compliment veiled as a critique, moved back to his chair, rejoining the precarious dance of conversation.

"The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor," Selby continued, her revelation hanging in the smoky air like a veiled threat. "Doctor Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank, or…" Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, her gaze sharp, "Or condemn, depending on what side you're on."

"Is Nagel still in Madripoor?" Zemo's question cut through the tension, his inquiry pointed and loaded with unspoken implications.

Selby stood, her movement fluid as a shadow, drifting behind Zemo. She was about to divulge the answer, a secret that could tip the scales, when the moment was shattered by the unexpected vibration of a cell phone. Sam's cell phone, ingeniously hidden within the confines of your bra, the only place deemed secure given the impracticality of the suit's tiny pockets. The room froze, a tableau of anticipation and dread, as all eyes darted towards you. The vibration continued, a silent herald of impending chaos, until, with a steadiness you hardly felt, you retrieved the phone. The caller ID flashed "Mom jr." — a code name for your older sister, Sarah, that now felt like a harbinger of disaster.

"Go on," Selby's voice was a command laced with curiosity and a hint of menace, her henchman already looming ominously behind her. "Answer it. On speaker."

With a nod, terse and devoid of any option but compliance, you swiped the screen, the green circle heralding a connection fraught with risk. Clearing your throat, an attempt to mask the torrent of nerves, you answered with a voice feigning confidence, "Smiling Tiger."

"...Okay." The brief silence that followed was thick with confusion, Sarah's voice betraying her bewilderment. "Why do you have his phone? Is he there?"

"Uh, yeah, yes, he is."

"Could I speak to him? It's urgent."

"Sure." You navigated the tense atmosphere with caution, aware of the danger that lurked in every corner. Approaching Sam, you offered the phone with a discreet, "Sir."

Sam accepted the phone, his throat clearing a precursor to the conversation. "Hello?"

"Hey, uhm, we need to talk about this situation. It's been driving me nuts."

"What situation are you talking about exactly?"

"Are you high? You know the situation. It’s the only situation me and you have."

"What situation, Sarah? Say it."

"The damn boat. And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank."

Sam's scoff was almost audible, a mixture of disbelief and humor. "The bank, yeah. Laundered so much money," he chuckled. "Yeah, they'll come around."

"If that’s the case, then why'd they dog you out, Big Time?"

"Yeah, you damn right I'm Big Time. You'll see when I have that banker killed." Your gaze flickered to Bucky, dreading the potential fallout from this precarious bluff.

"Cass! What did I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!" Sarah's exasperated outburst was unexpected, yet somehow, it underscored the normalcy of life's chaos — even when worlds apart, Cheerios could cause turmoil. "Sam, I'm sorry, let me call you back."

"Sam?" Selby's voice, sharp with suspicion, cut through the room. "Who's Sam?" Her eyes scanned the room, landing on one of her men as she gave the lethal order, "Kill them!" No sooner had the command left her lips than a bullet from an unseen sniper found its mark, sailing through the window to claim Selby's life with unerring precision.

As Selby's men, jolted by the sudden turn of events, scrambled to retaliate, the trio leapt into action, their movements a blend of desperation and determination, ready to confront the chaos unleashed by a single, ill-timed phone call.

Sam's movements were swift and precise, his elbow connecting with the gut of the assailant beside him with a force that spoke of urgency and desperation. In a fluid motion, he seized the man's weapon, leveraging his strength to send his adversary crumbling to the floor. Nearby, Bucky confronted another threat, an opponent armed with an automatic firearm. The bullets, however, were no match for Bucky's metallic arm. With an almost serene calmness, he raised his arm, the bullets ricocheting off the vibranium and falling harmlessly to the ground, their lethal intent nullified. With a swift, decisive movement, Bucky disarmed the gunman, the heavy thud of the weapon striking the assailant's head a grim punctuation to the confrontation.

Zemo, meanwhile, exhibited a different kind of strategy. He glided to the side, a ballet of avoidance, demonstrating a preference to remain on the fringes of the physical altercation. His demeanor suggested disinterest, a calculated decision to avoid the fray, yet you knew the truth. Zemo possessed skills honed by experience, a dangerous combatant by any measure, choosing discretion over engagement.

As for yourself, standing on the precipice of engagement, you too could have dismantled any adversary with ease, mirroring Zemo's restraint. Yet, it wasn't the fear of the fight that stilled your hand, nor the dread of physical harm. It was a deeper, more insidious kind of fear that gnawed at your resolve — the fear of responsibility. Sam had seen the toll it took on you, the anxiety that came with wielding your powers. He reassured you, time and again, that it was okay to hold back, understanding the weight that came with such immense power.

You had mastered control over your abilities, a feat that was as much for those around you as it was for your peace of mind. But control was a fragile thing, a constant battle against the possibility of a catastrophic slip. The echoes of the past haunted you, a stark reminder of the chaos unleashed during the battle against Thanos. The risk you had posed to your brother's life was a memory etched in the recesses of your mind, a harrowing reminder of the potential consequences of your powers. The burden of that day weighed heavily on your shoulders, a silent vow to never relive that helplessness, that guilt, again. Control could temper the power, but it could never erase the memories, the fears, or the haunting possibility of what could happen should it ever falter.

The moment unfolded before you with a surreal clarity, as if time itself had bent to accommodate the gravity of what was about to transpire. There stood Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, his figure exuding an aura of solemnity. With a hand stretched towards you, his voice cut through the chaos of your thoughts, delivering the harrowing message that Thanos was on the precipice of ushering in another war.

The ground beneath you felt unsteady, as if it too, shared in your tumult of emotions. Your body was a tempest of sensations, akin to being engulfed in invisible flames, an internal inferno that threatened to consume your very essence. Your hands, held out in front of you, became the focal point of your bewildered gaze. They glowed with an ethereal green luminescence, transforming your eyes into beacons of an otherworldly force. In that moment, you were a stranger even to yourself, your identity obscured by the overwhelming power that surged within you. You feared that even your brother, upon witnessing this transformation, would find himself staring at an unfamiliar figure, your familiar visage masked by an alien force.

It was during this maelstrom of confusion and fear that Stephen Strange recognized the tumultuous energy you were channeling. With a wisdom borne of his experiences with the mystic arts, he extended not just his hand but an offer of guidance and mastery over the forces that now threatened to unravel you.

Amidst this turmoil, a familiar voice pierced the veil of your disorientation. Bucky's voice, imbued with urgency and concern, reached out to you, grounding you back to reality. "We gotta go." His words, simple yet laden with an unspoken promise of safety, beckoned you. As your gaze snapped towards him, you were met with the sight of his outstretched hand, a lifeline in the chaos.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you placed your palm against his, the warmth of his grip a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty that had gripped your heart. Led by Bucky, you began to make your way out of the building, each step away from the epicenter of your crisis a step towards reclaiming the self that had been momentarily lost in the eye of the storm.

As Zemo's directive to abandon their firearms behind echoed in your mind, a profound vulnerability washed over you, intensifying the uncertainty that already clouded your heart. The decision to venture into the unknown without the familiar weight of a weapon at your side left you feeling starkly exposed, each step on the pavement echoing your apprehension.

Amidst the chaos, the glow of countless phone screens caught your attention, their omnipresence a stark reminder of the digital eyes that followed your every move. Your grip on Bucky's hand tightened, a help in centering you amidst the swirling uncertainty, your fingers intertwined with his in a silent plea for reassurance. Bucky, feeling the tremor of your grasp, was confronted with an overwhelming pressure in his chest—a sensation so intense, it seemed as though his heart might shatter through his ribcage. The logical part of his mind suggested that releasing your trembling hand might alleviate some of his distress, disconnecting him from the tangible evidence of your fear. Yet, the thought of pulling you even closer overpowered him, a testament to the protective instinct that surged within him, despite the presence of his partner in crime at his side, equally eager to escape the impending peril and shield you from harm.

Out of the corner of your eye, a figure detached from the crowd caught your attention—a woman, standing apart with her hands mimicking the shape of a gun, playfully ‘shooting’ at your group. This macabre pantomime, juxtaposed against the sea of illuminated screens, shed light on the grim realization that you and your companions had been reduced to mere targets in a deadly game, surrounded by a multitude of unseen adversaries, each one thirsting for blood and the lure of a reward.

In the fraction of a second before you could advance another step, the air was pierced by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. An instinctive fear gripped you, catalyzing a reaction that tore you away from Bucky's grasp. You spun around, just as a barrage of bullets threatened to engulf your group in a lethal storm. Driven by a deep-seated impulse to protect, you extended your hands, your eyes instinctively closing as you tapped into a wellspring of power that had lain dormant within you for far too long. The air around you charged with anticipation, as if the very essence of your being had awakened to confront the danger head-on.

Upon daring to open your eyes, fearing the aftermath of your instinctual reaction, you were confronted with a surreal tableau: bullets suspended mid-air, frozen in time and space, an arm's length away, creating an eerie stillness in the midst of chaos. The sheer number of projectiles, hovering ominously close, sent a shiver down your spine, yet it was the sight of your own fingers, aglow with a radiant green luminance, that truly captivated you. It was a strange juxtaposition—how could something so ethereally beautiful harbor the potential for immense destruction?

Your fascination gave way to action as you turned your palm, the bullets beginning to dissolve into nothingness, disintegrating into a fine mist just before reaching your skin. The urgency to locate your assailant led your eyes to a figure, scant meters away, wielding a machine gun braced against a makeshift stand in the bustling market. With a focused gesture, you manipulated the now-liquefied metal, directing it with lethal precision towards the gunman. He recoiled, anticipating pain or perhaps even death, but instead, you targeted his weapon. The metal swarm enveloped the gun, rendering it inoperable, parts of its mechanism dissolving into oblivion.

The surrounding crowd, momentarily taken aback by the display of power, quickly regrouped, their initial shock transforming into twisted smiles as they once again raised their weapons. It was then that your brother intervened, his hand clasping yours with determined strength, pulling you back into the frenetic escape. The concept of a leisurely retreat was a luxury far removed from reality as you both dashed through the dense throngs of Madripoor, a city now teeming with adversaries drawn by the allure of a bounty. The streets, alive with danger, became a labyrinth as you navigated through the relentless pursuit, the weight of potential violence pressing against you from all sides.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam's grumble about his unsuitable footwear for their frenzied escape almost halted you in your tracks, the urge to chastise him for his complaint bubbling up fiercely.

"I'm wearing six-inch heels, you idiot!" you retorted, your voice slicing through the tension as you were half-dragged, half-ran, your form almost seeming to bounce off the pavement with each step.

Just then, the distinct growl of motorbikes escalated behind you, a clear sign that your pursuers were closing in with alarming speed. Instinctively, you twisted around, freeing one arm from your brother's firm grasp. A brilliant emerald glow enveloped your hand as you unleashed a force resembling a sonic boom towards your chasers. Glancing back, you witnessed the bikers caught in a surreal slow-motion, ensnared within the temporal anomaly you'd unwittingly summoned.

The urgency of your flight tapered off as your brother gradually decelerated, releasing your hand to take in the quietude that had enveloped the scene. Zemo, ever the observer, couldn't hide his admiration, stepping closer with a sly grin. "Quite impressive, if I may say so myself."

“You may not.” His commendation was met with a mutter from Bucky, barely audible yet brimming with protectiveness. Bucky positioned himself squarely between you and Zemo, effectively shielding you from the latter's view. Sam, meanwhile, appeared utterly bemused, hands perched on his hips as he oscillated his gaze between you and Bucky, bewildered by the sudden shift in dynamics.

"Okay, what—?" Sam began, only to be cut off as the moment teetered on the brink of unraveling.

"Well, isn’t this just perfect," a voice chimed from the enveloping shadows, laced with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Emerging into the dim light, a blonde woman approached with her gun poised, her stance radiating confidence and danger. Recognition flickered through your mind, delayed by the surreal context. Sharon Carter, the name finally clicked, associated with tales of Steve Rogers and his erstwhile entanglements. Sam's anecdotes, usually shared with a mix of reverence and jest, painted her in the light of a past fraught with complex allegiances, especially during the so-called Civil War—a term you found overly dramatic for what essentially amounted to a highly publicized skirmish among comrades at an airport.

"Sharon?" Bucky's voice cut through your thoughts, tinged with a blend of surprise and uncertainty. The Sharon Carter you'd heard of through scattered stories seemed far removed from the woman who now stood before you, gun in hand, in the underbelly of Madripoor. It was a reflection, perhaps, of how life's unpredictable currents could sweep anyone into unforeseen harbors.

Her gaze, sharp and unyielding, locked onto Zemo, the intensity of her scorn palpable. "You cost me everything," she accused, the words heavy with resentment. Sam attempted to interject, offering explanations that seemed to dissipate before they could reach her, lost in the void of her grievance. "I stole Steve's shield, remember?" she reminded, her resolve steel-hard, the weapon unwavering in her grasp. "I also took the wings for your ass," she directed at Sam, causing a ripple of tension to pass through you. The mention of sacrifices made—her actions for their benefit—underscored the gravity of her fall from grace. Her focus shifted momentarily to Bucky, implicating him in the web of consequences, before returning to Zemo with a disdainful flick. Finally, her eyes found you, registering your presence with a flicker of surprise. "No idea who you are," she stated, an admission that underscored the complexity of alliances and identities in this shadowy world.

With a determined stride, Bucky advanced towards Sharon, his every step a testament to his intent to defuse the tension that crackled in the air. He engaged her with words, his tone both pleading and firm, navigating through the storm of her fury. Eventually, her grip on the gun loosened, the weapon tucked away after an exasperated sigh, a silent concession to his efforts. Sharon then proposed an unexpected truce, inviting you all back to her sanctuary. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you; moments before, the cold metal of her gun had promised anything but hospitality.

Crossing the threshold into Sharon's abode, you were immediately struck by an array of art that adorned every wall and surface. The collection was staggering, a visual feast of masterpieces that seemed too authentic, too valuable to be merely decorative. You half-joked to yourself about the possibility of the Mona Lisa being tucked away in a corner, marveling at the fortune that surrounded you, captured in oil and canvas.

The offer of a change of attire came next, with Sharon presenting an array of elegant garments that seemed to glide into the room on a valet rod. The promise of shedding your current attire, particularly the torturous heels that had been your nemesis throughout the evening, was a relief. Barefoot, you approached the selection with eagerness, only to have your enthusiasm dimmed by the realization that the options available were far removed from your comfort zone. Accustomed to the simple reliability of sneakers and boots, the sight of such finery felt daunting, alien.

Facing Sharon, a hint of disappointment lacing your expression, you ventured a request, hoping for something more aligned with your sense of style. "Don't you have anything less... that?" The words hung between you, a polite plea for normalcy amidst the opulence that defined her world.

"Like what?" Sharon's question cut through the tension in the room, her gaze drifting momentarily over Bucky and his shirtless state alongside Zemo. The moment made your skin crawl slightly, an unwelcome distraction in the midst of the unfolding scenario.

"Jeans?" you ventured hopefully, trying to steer the conversation back to a more comfortable topic, despite the circumstances.

"We are going to a club in Madripoor," Sharon pointed out, as if the venue demanded a specific dress code that was far from your preference.

"Yes?" you responded, not fully grasping why your suggested attire wouldn't be suitable, your tone a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance.

After a brief pause, during which Sharon seemed to consider her response, she chose to bypass your suggestion entirely, moving past you as if you had become part of the room's extravagant background. Your frustration evident, you rolled your eyes at her dismissive attitude and turned back to the daunting task of selecting an outfit from the array provided. Among the lavish options, you managed to find flared leather leggings and a high-neck crop top with a singular sleeve—a rebellious choice that echoed your own style while avoiding the discomfort of another glitter-infested dress. As you began the awkward dance of changing into the leather pants without first removing your current dress, a subtle commotion caught your attention.

Bucky, ever the protector, had taken it upon himself to ensure your privacy. His large hand found Zemo's neck, not harshly but with enough insistence to pivot the man's attention away from you. However, it wasn't just Zemo's attention he was diverting; his own gaze, filled with an intensity you couldn't quite decipher, kept flickering back to you. Each look seemed to linger a moment too long, filled with an emotion he seemed to struggle to define, let alone express. With a visible effort, Bucky tore his gaze away, a stern resolve setting in as he forced himself to focus on anything but you.

Your brother went to lift his whiskey glass off the table when he spotted what was inside of it. A shiver ran down his as he fished out the little snake part and stood to throw it out the window. The expression on his face made you throw your head back laughing. He raised his brow at you in question. You lifted your hands. "I didn’t do it."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Because whoever did, is a genius." You were about to pull the top over your head when Sam pinched you in the side. "Ow, what the hell, Sam!" With furrowed brows, and the tight top stuck on your shoulders, you tried to kick him in the shin, though he moved back just in time; a broad grin rested on his face. "Too slow, sista," Sam teased, his playful nudge against your head causing your already precarious balance to falter further. With a grunt of mock indignation, you surged forward, aiming a determined chest-bump at your brother, eager to see him mirror your momentary imbalance. Your efforts were rewarded with a triumphant laugh as Sam was forced to step back, the shared moment of childish glee lighting up your features with a wide grin. This brief interlude of sibling rivalry whisked you back to those carefree days of your youth, where even the simplest acts of brotherly teasing felt like the grandest adventures. Back then, Sam could do no wrong in your eyes, the epitome of an older brother in the most magnificent form.

In the midst of your playful scuffle, you were secretly relieved that Sharon had exited the room. Her presence might have added a layer of self-consciousness to the innocent chaos. Although the antics might seem juvenile to an outsider, to you, they were a rare slice of normalcy—a cherished reminder of a life untouched by cosmic wars or Thanos' dread shadow.

As Sam busied himself with selecting an outfit, your struggle with the unyielding fabric of your top grew increasingly frustrating. The material, devoid of any give, clung stubbornly in all the wrong places. With your back to Bucky, a soft sigh of exasperation escaped you. "Buck?" The quiet call for assistance was barely above a whisper, yet it summoned his attention instantly.

"Need a hand?" His voice was close, filled with a gentle concern that made your heart flutter slightly.

"Yes, please," came your subdued reply, the momentary vulnerability feeling strangely intimate. Then, you felt it—his touch. The slight graze of Bucky's skin against yours as his fingers traced a path up your side, his touch delicate yet assured. He navigated the fabric with a tender precision, his fingers briefly pausing at the edge of your top before guiding it smoothly into place. The fleeting caress that followed lingered just long enough to ignite a shiver of anticipation, a warmth blossoming within you that craved the closeness of his embrace. His breath, a warm whisper against the nape of your neck, sent a thrilling chill down your spine.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, the compliment hanging in the air between you, charged with an unspoken emotion that seemed to draw you even closer, tethering your heart to his with an invisible thread of affection and longing.

"I absolutely agree," Zemo's voice cut through the tension, drawing an involuntary growl of annoyance from Bucky. With a gesture of mock surrender, Zemo backed away, his steps carrying him to the bar where three glasses of whiskey awaited their silent call to be savored. Bucky, feeling the palpable shift in the room's dynamics, reluctantly distanced himself from you, his departure leaving a subtle chill in the wake of his warmth. He reclaimed his seat on the sofa, a move you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment over.

Sharon chose that moment to grace the room with her presence, her arrival marked by the lively bounce of her blonde waves. She exuded a casual confidence, her tone light, yet probing. "So," she hummed, curiosity lacing her words, "How's the new Cap doing?"

Before Sam had the chance to form a response, Bucky's voice, laced with a mixture of disdain and resignation, filled the room. "Don’t get me started." His hands found each other, intertwining in an awkward dance as his gaze inadvertently met yours. Even in the simplicity of his all-black ensemble, accentuated by a blazer that lent an air of sophistication, Bucky looked effortlessly handsome, commanding the space around him with an understated elegance.

Sharon, undeterred by the tense atmosphere, pressed on, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Oh, please. You buy into all that stars and striped bullshit." Her pointed gaze shifted to Zemo. "Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend." With a fluid motion, she sank into the space beside Bucky, a deliberate bite of her lip following her words.

The action did not go unnoticed, drawing a frown from you, a silent testament to the unfolding dynamics. Bucky, catching Sam's eye, shared a moment of mutual understanding, tinged with a hint of disbelief. "Wow," he uttered, the word heavy with implication. "She's kind of awful now." His observation, though softly spoken, resonated with a mix of humor and a poignant undercurrent of nostalgia for times and alliances past.

As you momentarily extracted yourself from the animated discussion unfurling within the living room, your attention was ensnared by the relentless buzzing of your phone, a beacon of unchecked notifications. A myriad of messages from your sister painted your screen, a digital mosaic of concern and updates. "I'll be right back," you announced, your voice threading through the dense air of conversation that was currently monopolized by debates over the Flag Smashers. The name itself, a moniker you found both laughably juvenile and misleadingly innocuous, echoed in your thoughts as you distanced yourself from the discourse, finding solace in the quietude of the hallway.

Leaning against the cool, indifferent wall, you began the arduous task of sifting through the digital deluge, your fingers scrolling with practiced ease. It was then, amidst the solitude of your temporary retreat, that the ambiance subtly shifted, heralding the approach of another. The door opened with a hushed creak, and there he was—Bucky, his presence alone commanding your undivided attention.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice a gentle intrusion, as he navigated the space around you to claim his own against the wall opposite. His casual demeanor belied the concern etched into the furrows of his brow.

"Hey," you echoed, a mirror of his own greeting, yet laden with an unspoken acknowledgment of the weight he carried in his gaze.

"You alright?" His inquiry was simple, yet laden with layers of unvoiced thoughts and concerns. There was a palpable hesitation in his words, a reluctance to tread upon the terrain of your powers—a subject he knew stirred a tempest of emotions within you. “You used your powers.”

"I did," came your affirmation, your response punctuated with a grin that sought to mask the undercurrent of apprehension that had long shadowed your relationship with your own abilities. "I'm alright, though, really." Your attempt to reassure him—and perhaps yourself—was sincere. "It felt weirdly freeing to use them. To see how well I can actually keep control. They are still kind of scary, though."

As the words tumbled from your lips, Bucky bridged the gap between you, each step he took charged with an unspoken intensity. Suddenly, the world seemed to narrow down to the space that separated you, every detail of his approach etched into your memory—the way the light danced in his eyes, the barely perceptible tension in his jaw, the silent communication of his body language that spoke volumes of his concern and his undeniable pull towards you.

The proximity between you dwindled to a mere breath, a distance so trivial yet laden with a myriad of unspoken possibilities. The air around you thickened, charged with a palpable tension that sent your heart racing, your breaths shallow. The notion of closing the distance, of yielding to the gravitational pull that seemed to draw you inexorably towards him, flickered through your mind like a tantalizing promise. It was an effort to maintain your composure, to anchor yourself to the moment without succumbing to the overwhelming urge to bridge the final vestiges of space with a kiss that threatened to unravel both of you.

Pressed against the cool, unyielding surface of the wall, the intensity of the moment had magnified as Bucky's hands found their way to your waist, his grip tightening with a hunger that sent waves of anticipation coursing through your veins. His large, calloused hands, battle-hardened yet gentle, conveyed a sense of urgency as they dug into your flesh, pulling you impossibly closer into his embrace. The strength in his touch was paradoxically comforting, each finger imprinting a promise of protection and desire onto your skin.

The world around you had faded into a distant murmur, his presence engulfing you, drowning out everything else. Bucky's body molded against yours, his chest to your chest, his hips locked with yours in a dance as old as time. The pressure of his hands on your waist was both a claim and a caress, a testament to the depth of his longing. It was as if he was trying to merge two separate existences into one, to erase any space that still lingered between you.

As his lips moved with a tender ferocity against yours, you could feel the raw power of his emotions, restrained yet palpable. The sensation of being wholly desired, of being pulled into someone's orbit with such intensity, was both exhilarating and terrifying. His touch spoke volumes, whispered of need and want that had been simmering beneath the surface, now unleashed in the privacy of this shared moment.

The hunger in his grasp was matched only by the passion of your response, your own hands exploring the expanse of his back, tracing the lines of muscle and scars that told the story of his past. Together, you were adrift in a sea of heightened sensations, every caress, every kiss, every breath amplifying the connection that had been quietly growing between you. In that moment, with Bucky's hands anchoring you to him, you weren't just touching; you were speaking a language of longing, of mutual understanding and unspoken promises made in the quietude of hearts beating in unison.

A voice unexpectedly cut through the thick haze of the moment shared between you and Bucky. The abrupt sound of Sam’s voice, laced with surprise and a hint of disbelief, acted like a cold splash of reality.

“Someone care to explain what’s going on here?” he demanded, his tone piercing the bubble that had enveloped you and Bucky. The shock of being discovered, especially by your brother, sent a jolt through you, compelling you to break the kiss.

Oh, no.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes series #bucky x you #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

In Trouble » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: The reader is in trouble for talking to John Walker.

Warnings: implied Smut (18+), language, jealousy, possessive, kissing, pet names (doll, babydoll)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

Bucky’s hand tightened around the glass of whiskey as he watched John Walker approach his wife from the other side of the bar. He wanted nothing more than to beat John’s ass for even approaching you in the first place.

“Bucky?” Sam says.

“What?” Bucky says, not taking his eyes off of you.

“You ok?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” Bucky says.

Sam looked across the bar to see Bucky staring at John talking to you.

“She’s a big girl, Bucky. She can handle herself.” Sam says.

“I know. I just hate the thought of him talking to my wife, let alone being near her.” Bucky says.

Bucky’s jaw clenched when he seen John put his arm around your shoulders. That was the last straw for him. Bucky downed the rest of his whiskey before walking over to you.

“This is not gonna end well.” Sam mumbles to himself.

Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and kissed your cheek.

“Hey, doll. You miss me?” Bucky says.

“I was wondering where you were, Buck. Me and John were just talking.” You say.

“That’s nice. Thanks for keeping my wife company, Walker.” Bucky says, looking at John.

“Wife? Wait a second… you’re married to the Winter Soldier?” John says surprised.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him.

“Of course I am!” You smiled, leaning back against Bucky’s body.

“Ok. Well, I’m gonna go. It was nice talking to you.” John says, standing up and leaving.

Bucky chuckled as John practically ran away.

“You’re in so much trouble, babydoll.” Bucky whispers in your ear.

“What did I do?” You asked with a pout.

“You were talking to Walker and I think that deserves a punishment, don’t you think?” He says, lightly kissing your neck.

You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Take me home.” You say in almost a moan.

Bucky chuckled and helped you down from the bar stool. He grabbed your hand and lead you out of the bar.

“I want you naked the second we get home.” Bucky whispers in your ear.

“Yes, sir.” You practically moaned.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the avengers #avengers #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #husband!bucky #wife!reader

[littleredwolf]

The Sleepover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 1,740

Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while but he is yet to spend the night at her place. After breaking down barriers and allowing himself to drop his guard, Bucky soon decides it’s finally time to take the next step. 

Warnings: Mentions of Bucky’s PTSD/recovery 

A/N: This was inspired by the scene in TFATWS that shows Bucky waking up on his apartment floor. It’s such a visceral moment that sheds light on just how much trauma he carries with him, and I wanted to bring some lightness to that in the form of Y/N. Long story short, I just wanted our favourite super soldier to receive the comfort he so desperately needs and deserves.

--

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the unmistakable roar of Bucky’s motorcycle pulling up outside, and you launched yourself off the couch to greet him. The two of you had been dating for a little over four months now but tonight was the first time he was staying over and you were practically vibrating with excitement. 

You had met a year ago when you’d been paired together on a scouting mission in Bucharest, spending an intensive four weeks trailing a suspected arms dealer. After spending the better half of a month shacked up together in a dingy apartment, it was inevitable you'd open up to one another eventually. After months of skirting around your feelings and your friends encouraging you both to speak up, the two of you had eventually plucked up the courage to confess your feelings and the rest, as the saying goes, was history. 

Bucky had been a true gentleman from the very beginning and had confessed early on that he'd wanted to take things slow - it had been a long time since he'd courted a woman and thanks to his coloured past he'd all but given up on the prospect of love, so the concept of a relationship was one he still sometimes struggled to get his head around. 

You understood completely and had made every effort not to overwhelm him. You were fully aware of his trauma and the suffering he'd endured and endeavoured to provide him with a calm, safe space that allowed him to let his guard down in a way he was comfortable with.

Over the last few months he'd gotten much better with touch and now it was at a point where he practically craved it. Whether he was holding your hand, laying his head in your lap while you watched TV or wrapping his arms around you from behind while you were cooking dinner, Bucky loved touch and would always find an excuse to be near you or touching you in some way. You were more than happy to indulge his needs and fussed over him at every opportunity, joking that he was like an overgrown puppy when it came to affection.

You could have cried with how sweet he’d been when he’d kissed you for the first time - he was so careful as he’d tenderly pressed his lips to yours, as though expecting to break you, and in that moment it had dawned on you that he probably wasn’t used to being so gentle towards another human being. 

It was so fulfilling witnessing this once broken man rebuilding and flourishing in his new life, and you felt truly honoured that he wanted you to be a part of it. 

At the sound of a knock at the door your excitement grew to an almost immeasurable amount, and you took a moment to gather yourself before answering. 

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d gone to bed alone after spending an evening with Bucky, aching for him to be beside you, and although you understood and respected his reasons for not staying you couldn’t help the sting of loneliness that crawled in whenever he left at the end of an evening.

The sight of him standing in your doorway with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder was one you’d never dared to believe you’d witness, yet here he was, casually leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to answer the door. 

“Hey Buck,” you grinned, stepping forward to greet him with a kiss which he eagerly welcomed. Wrapping his arms around you, he guided you backwards into your apartment, dropping his bag and kicking the door to a close behind him. You were breathless when he pulled away, staring up at him in awe.  

“Wow, that was…just, wow,” you marvelled, completely lost for words. 

“I could hear your heartbeat so I thought I’d ease some of your nerves,” he smirked, and your cheeks reddened at his confession. 

“Dammit Barnes, I told you not to use your super hearing on me. What if I was in the bathroom!?”

“You think I haven’t heard you pee before?” His laughter - one of your favourite sounds - echoed around the room as you shot him a horrified glare, and he quickly pulled you into his embrace to ease your embarrassment. 

“I’m reconsidering this sleepover already,” you grumbled into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in his leathery scent. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. 

“Come on doll, why don't you show me where I’ll be sleeping.”

You immediately perked up at his words - which you suspected was his plan - and with a grin you grabbed his bag and led him to the bedroom to unpack.

–

The evening passed like any other - you cooked dinner, played some board games, and ended the night cuddled up on the couch with a movie - but instead of falling asleep in Bucky's arms like you usually did, you felt wide awake. 

Bucky switched off the TV as you began to tidy away your empty glasses and snacks, and an awkward silence hovered over the room as you both pondered how to navigate the rest of the evening. 

"So, sweetheart…what do you usually do at this point?" Bucky broke the silence as he came to lean against the counter beside you.    

"Well, usually, once you've left I go to bed," you replied, realising that the suggestion of going to bed may be misinterpreted and quickly adding, "but we don't have to do that yet if you're not tired." 

Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly. 

"It's okay, doll. I'm happy to go to bed," he murmured, trailing his hand down to entwine his fingers with yours and leading you to your room. 

You were already in your pyjamas so you slipped straight under the covers while Bucky walked round to the other side of the bed and began undressing down to his boxers. You couldn't resist a sneaky peek while his back was turned, and as soon as you gave in to your temptation you regretted it immediately - Bucky's chiselled body was truly a sight to behold and one you were sad to have to tear your eyes away from. 

"Would you like me to strike a pose?" Your boyfriend's playful voice broke your train of thought and you snapped your eyes to his, finding him smirking at you with his hands on his hips. 

You'd been caught red handed, and red faced! Your cheeks were blazing and you pulled the covers up to hide your face as Bucky crawled in next to you. The embarrassment quickly dissolved once he was laying next to you, your mind suddenly too preoccupied to care, and you turned to face him with a grin. 

"You're here," you said gleefully, melting into his open arms. 

"I'm here," he echoed, his smile mirroring yours.

With a tender kiss he pulled you closer, tucking you under his chin in a firm but gentle embrace, and soon you found the tendrils of slumber pulling you into the sleepy abyss. 

– 

A few hours later you were awoken by a cold breeze at your back, and you reached your hand out in the darkness, heart sinking when an empty bed greeted you. 

Had Bucky left? Had he changed his mind about spending the night? Had you imagined the whole thing? 

Your thoughts teetered on a downward spiral as you sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, but your insecurity quickly turned to confusion when you looked to your side and found that not only was Bucky missing from your bed, but his pillow was too. 

Eyebrows knitting together, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up to try and solve the mystery, but you didn't get very far before your foot bumped into something solid. 

Bucky. 

The super soldier sat bolt upright at your touch, wide eyes staring straight ahead, and for a moment you feared he'd forgotten where he was altogether. He soon came to his senses, however, shaking off any remnants of sleep and looking up at you with a sheepish expression. 

"I, uh…sometimes find it hard to sleep," he offered, fidgeting with the blanket he must have grabbed from the couch. "Sorry, I'm still kinda getting used to the idea of a comfortable bed." 

He chuckled dryly and your chest tightened at his doleful expression - here was this brave, strong man who had been through hell, and he was apologising!? 

That just would not do. 

"Oh, Buck," you cooed, sinking to your knees in front of him and holding his face in your hands. "You don't need to apologise for anything." 

His eyes met yours and you hoped he could see the love and sincerity in them. The guards he worked so hard to keep up slipped just a tiny bit, and he gave you a tearful smile as he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Kissing the top of his head, you turned and reached up to grab your pillow off the bed, setting it on the floor beside his before reaching back again for the covers. 

"You don't have to do this, doll. You won't be comfortable," he protested once he realised you were intending to join him, but you simply waved a hand to quiet him.

"We're in this together now baby," you softly reassured, adjusting the blanket so it covered the both of you. "I'm right here with you every step of the way." 

You kissed him deeply and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down with him as he laid back on the hardwood floor. By no means was it comfortable and you knew in the morning your back would be aching, but none of that mattered while you were at Bucky's side. 

He'd been fighting his demons for so long, and he'd likely be fighting them for a long time to come, but there was no way you were going to let him continue fighting them alone. 

Tucked tightly into Bucky's side, your head on his chest and the sound of his heart beating in your ears, you fell back to sleep with surprising ease, and neither you, nor Bucky, woke again until morning. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #winter soldier #avengers #sebastian stan #ptsd #trauma

[urdepressedslut]

The Collection

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky arrives home and panics when he notices you calling for him from your room, but upon entering— he realizes what you have been getting yourself into.

♡ Warnings: superrrrr fluffyyyy 🥹, slight panic, hints to paranoia, hints to PTSD, hints to bucky’s trauma, overall a comfort drabble

main masterlist

A/N: i have been adding to my own squish mallow collection and thought of this 🥰 i’m unhealthily obsessed with squish mallows

Arriving back at your shared apartment, Bucky couldn’t help but notice the amount of time xtra large bags on the kitchen counter. He furrowed his brows in confusion and wandered to the fridge. Opening it in inspection, he didn’t see anything new or added.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping…

He could hear faint shuffling from your shared room, and he couldn’t help but panic. His mind was brilliant at creating a problem from nothing. He was a professional over thinker— and sometimes it threatened to make his heart give out.

“Baby? I’m home!” He announced, shimmying off his jacket and making his way to the bedroom.

“James! Come quick— you gotta see something!” You said urgently.

He automatically thought the worst and all his suspicions were suddenly coming through. Visions of you hurt came to mind and he practically sprinted and busted through the door. The knob slamming into the wall with a loud thud.

“(Y/n)? You okay?!” He asked panicked.

His body relaxed at your calm state, only the look of confusion on your face. With a quick scan— he noticed there was nothing wrong with the room or you. In fact, if anything was different— it were the many new plushies on the bed.

Releasing a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in, and ran a hand through his hair.

“James honey— you alright? Just wanted to show you my new squishmallows.” You asked him worried, walking over to stand next to him.

Truthfully, if anything he was embarrassed that he’d let himself get in his head again. But after finding you perfectly fine, and organizing your plushies— which he found adorable— he felt fine. He was only happy that you were okay.

“M’fine baby, just thought you were in trouble is all.” He told you honestly.

You softened your gaze to him, grabbing his hand and hiding him to the bed. You gently pushed him down to sit, and he did so willingly.

“I didn’t mean to sound all panicky— was just excited to show you the new ones I got today!” You told him, smiling like the cheshire cat.

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands as he looked down at the medium sized squishmallows.

“You know— this is considered an addiction.” He pointed out.

You scoffed, waving him off like it was no big deal.

“Some consider it a hobby actually.” You defended.

He raised his brows in amusement, chuckling again when he saw you being so defensive. He thought you were adorable.

“You’re so cute.” He said out loud, causing your face to grow hot.

After all this time— he was still easily able to make you blush, flustered from his compliments.

You shook off the flush in your face, choosing to pick up a new squishmallow to show him. You held up a medium sized seal squishmallow, to which Bucky smiled at.

“This is a seal one, his name is Remmy.” You told him.

Bucky grabbed it from your hands, giving it a test hug and holding it while you grabbed another one. Next was a longhorn squishmallow, with a ring dangling from its nose.

“This is a bull one, his name is Shep.” You told him, giving it a hug and then passing it to Bucky.

You held back a giggle, Bucky holding the plushies to his chest an adorable sight. Such a tough man with these cute stuffed animals.

“I like his horns.” He noted, fiddling with the plushie.

You picked up the last one, being a bird squishmallow. You smiled wide as you looked at it, this one being your favorite.

“This is my favorite of the three. I think he’s a hawk or something, and his name is Sam.” You explained.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he started laughing, dropping the other plushies on the bed, he reached out and grabbed the hawk and inspected it.

“Sam, really?” He asked chuckling.

You nodded your head with a sly smile.

“Does our Sam know about this?” He asked again.

“Definitely not— but I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” You told him.

You two laughed at the goofiness and you ended up being pulled by Bucky into the bed. He wrapped you up in his arms and the two of you started cuddling— just melting into each others embrace. The squishmallows surrounded you two while you both drifted off to sleep.

Nothing felt more perfect, nothing felt more right than being in his arms.

“Love you baby.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you more James.” You mumbled into his chest.

TAGLIST: @billy-reads @potatothots @buckyb-stan @kmc1989 @silverfire13 @ghostofwinter @hanihoney88 @stilesofhannah @skittle479 @marvelogic @meetmeatyourworst @engie115 @wilsons-striped-ties @x209x @kandis-mom @l0kilaufeys0n7

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #buckybarnes #fluff #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagines #tfatws!bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #💗💗💗

[vigilante-3073]

Hold Me

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

PART 1

Summary: If you had the chance to save the one you love, would you take it?

Reader has the power to Teleport

TW: Angst, violence, blood, guns, denied feelings, love-hate relationship, super-soldier serum.

Musical recommendations: Can You Hold Me? By NF (Feat. Britt Nicole).

Bucky sat on the leather couch in his therapist's office in silence as she searched through his phone. He usually enjoyed the silence, but today it made him want to crawl out of his skin. Bucky turned his head towards the window, the sky was dark and it had started to rain outside. His bright blue eyes followed the raindrops dutifully as they rolled down the glass, Bucky had always liked the rain.

"Who is Y/N?" Doctor Raynor asked, looking up from his cellphone screen.

"My roommate," Bucky stated.

"You never told me you had someone living with you," She said.

"Because it doesn't matter," Bucky said. He couldn't stand Y/N and he certainly didn't want to take up a second of his therapy session talking about her.

"The two of you talk quite a lot. Almost every day by the looks of it... How did you meet this person?" Doctor Raynor asked, pressing the power button on Bucky's phone. She held out the phone to him and he took it, setting it down on the couch beside himself.

"Steve," He said, looking down at his hands.

"Do you know why Steve introduced you to them?" Doctor Raynor questioned, picking up her pen.

Bucky sighed, shifting in his seat, "No," He said.

"Can you tell me about Y/N?" She asked.

Bucky could feel himself getting frustrated, "I'm not here to talk about her," He snapped.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

"Why do you even care?" Bucky questioned, sinking back into the couch.

"Because you do," She replied.

"I don't care about her. She has made my life hell since the day I met her," Bucky said.

"How has she managed that?" Doctor Raynor asked, scribbling notes down into her book.

Bucky huffed, "She's just annoying," He shrugged.

"How so?" The Doctor pushed, not looking up from her notes. Bucky wanted to toss that notebook across the room.

"Can we talk about something else?" He asked desperately.

"Nope," She stated, looking up at him with a small smile. Bucky knew that there was no getting around her.

He sighed heavily, folding his hands in his lap, "She's always checking up on me... Texting, calling, forcing me into stupid conversations about my day and making terrible jokes," He listed.

"Does it feel overwhelming? Having someone check up on you, I mean," Doctor Raynor asked.

Yes. Yes, it does. Bucky thought bitterly.

"It feels like I'm being smothered... I know she means well, but it's just too much," Bucky stated.

"Have you told Y/N about how you've been feeling?" The Doctor asked.

Bucky sighed again, "No," He said plainly.

"Why not?" Doctor Raynor questioned.

"I don't want to hurt her feelings," Bucky muttered. And it was true, she was a good person, just overbearing sometimes.

"Huh, sounds to me like you care about her," Doctor Raynor said, closing her notebook.

"I don't," Bucky stated.

"Whatever you say," She smiled.

...

"Bucky!" Y/N cried, body colliding with his as she knocked him out of the way when the gunshot rang out.

The pair hit the suddenly sandy ground, rolling down the beach.

Bucky landed on his back with her body on top of him. He squinted up at the bright sky above them.

The leaves of palm trees rustled in the warm breeze, a few seagulls flying by overhead as the sound of ocean waves crashed against the shore.

"Where the hell are we?" Bucky asked, turning his head to see a large body of water with waves gently lapping at the shore.

They certainly weren't in Latvia anymore.

"I don't know," Y/N said, pushing herself up onto her knees with a grimace. She looked down at herself, "Shit," She muttered, Bucky looked up at her.

Y/N pressed her hand against her stomach, pulling it back to see her palm coated in blood.

Bucky sat up, looking down at her, "We need to get you to a hospital. Do you think you can portal us back?" He asked.

"Yeah, I-I think so," She stood up with Bucky's help, keeping her hand pressed against her stomach.

Y/N held onto his arm, closing her eyes as she tried to focus.

Nothing happened.

Y/N opened her eyes, "Bucky, it's not working," She said shakily, her eyes glossing over with tears.

"You can do this," Bucky assured, squeezing her arm reassuringly.

"Bucky, I'm scared," She mumbled, a single tear breaking loose and rolling down her cheek.

Bucky quickly wiped it away with his thumb, dread beginning to settle in his stomach when he noticed how pale she was getting, "I know. But you need to stay calm right now," He said.

"I don't want to die," She whimpered, gripping onto him desperately.

"You are not going to die. I won't let that happen, alright?" Bucky assured, cupping her cheek in his palm. More tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded.

"I need you to focus, sweetheart. Get us back," Bucky instructed.

Y/N would be going into shock soon.

Bucky watched her as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. He could feel her trembling in his hold.

Nothing happened.

Y/N opened her eyes again, "I can't do it," She mumbled tiredly, knees buckling underneath her.

Bucky stepped forward, catching her and gently lowering her down to the sand below.

He knelt beside her, "I need you to keep your eyes open, doll," Bucky instructed. His heart started to race as panic set in.

Y/N was going to die right in front of him.

"Stay with me," Bucky ordered, taking her hand. Her body slumped against his chest, "I'm sorry," She mumbled.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, sweetheart," Bucky assured, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't afford to break down right now, he needed to be strong for her.

"Can you hold me, please?" Y/N asked softly. Bucky nodded, carefully maneuvering her body into his lap with his arms holding her securely against his chest.

Her tired eyes stared out at the glistening ocean, "I certainly picked a beautiful place to die," She mumbled.

"You're not gonna die," Bucky choked out.

"It's okay. At least I'm with you," Y/N said softly.

She may have been a pain in the ass.

She may have been annoying at times.

But Bucky needed her.

Somewhere buried underneath all his fraudulent hate, he had fallen in love with her.

Bucky looked down at her as her grip on his hand went loose. Her eyes drifted shut, head leaning against his chest.

"Hey, Y/N. Y/N, open your eyes. Come on," He called shakily, tilting her head up to see her face. Bucky rubbed his thumb across her cheek, jostling her body in his arms, "Open your eyes," He pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes.

He could hear her heartbeat slowing in her chest. He looked up at the ocean, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Bucky knew that he couldn't save her on his own, but he'd be damned if he left her alone to die. His body shook as he sobbed, cradling her in his arms.

Bucky looked over as something reflective caught his eye in the sand.

A syringe of blue serum.

It must have gotten swept up with them when Y/N portalled them out.

The serum could save her life or kill her, but she was going to die without treatment regardless.

Bucky reached over, grabbing the serum from the sand. The serum would give her a fighting chance and that was good enough for Bucky.

He stabbed the syringe into her thigh, watching the blue serum move from the vial and into her bloodstream.

For now, he would sit on the beach and hold her in his arms while watching the tide roll in.

#bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #james bucky buchanan barnes

[super-marvel-dc]

Loki, visiting the squad: Hello, I just came to-

Loki: *sees Y/N shoving Bucky into the washing machine while Sam records, and Tony watches*

Loki: *Leaving slowly* something suddenly came up...

#loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #sam wilson x reader #falcon x reader #tony stark x reader #iron man x reader #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel incorrect quotes