Seb Stan - Tumblr Posts

I just found my favorite pictures of him

“I don’t know, I’m Romanian alright, just give me a break.”

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

My baby B. B.

the worst monsters are those we bring with us

Sebastian Stan as Nick Fowler

Instagram: _idealart

Support✨: BuyMeACoffee

Lavender & Honey ➳ Sebastian Stan

➳ a/n: it's been so long since i've written for sweet Sebastian... and i believe this had been sent to my ask, but i can't find it! i hope you enjoy, though. this brought warmth all over me and i adore it. enjoy!

➳ summary: After a long day at work, you come home sore. Sebastian knows just what to do; lavender and honey baths always do the trick.

➳ warnings: none except pure fluff! 💙

➳ pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

➳ masterlist | the color collection | wattpad

When you walked through the doors of your shared home, releasing an audible groan as you set your things to the ground. Work had been nothing short of tiring, causing your muscles to ache, and your body to crave the satin sheets of your bed. Just as you tossed your keys into the empty bowl on the table, footsteps padded across the hardwood floors. Moments later, your eyes were greeted with oceanic blues and short dark hair. His smile spread across his features, his eyes studying you momentarily.

“There you are,” Sebastian’s voice called to you. You hummed as the sound wrapped around your ears like pure velvet. Shuffling awkwardly, his eyebrows knitted when he noticed your limping. “Oh, baby,” He met you in the middle. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugged you to his massive frame. Your arms instinctively swung around his neck as he cradled the back of your head to his hard shoulder.

Your face turned to bury into the cotton of his grey t-shirt, your hands falling lazily to his sides when he started to rub tender circles into your back.

“Don’t stop,” You moaned through a tight hiss.

He chuckled quietly, his lips falling to press a sweet kiss to your lips. Your eyes remained closed as you savored the taste of your Romanian beau, his blue eyes set on you. “Head upstairs,” He said, patting your sides. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Just listen to me, sweetheart,” He smiled with a promising note.

Giggling quietly, you turned around and started to make your way up the staircase. You crossed the threshold of your shared bedroom, the scent of his cologne and your perfume mixing through the air. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sebastian’s frame appeared shortly after, and he instantly aimed for the bathroom. Laying back against the fresh set of sheets you had put on the bed last night, you curled yourself inward, the scent causing a yawn to form.

You had fallen asleep within the time it took Sebastian to draw the bath and come find you. When he entered the bedroom, he heard your peaceful slumbers. Walking over to your dresser, he pulled it open and retrieved your necessities, ensuring to grab your favorite pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts that you chose to sleep in. Moments later, your shoulder was being shaken gently, his lips pressed to your ear.

“I know you’re tired, beautiful,” He sighed. “But come on, I ran you a bath. It’ll help with the soreness.” He whispered. Your eyes slowly opened, your vision blurry. You allowed Sebastian to snake his arms around your body and pry you from the bed before he walked into the bathroom with you clinging to him tiredly. Like a zombie, you changed out of your clothes, awakening at the chill of the bathroom. It brushed across your heated skin, your breasts and untouched core meeting the crisp air. Sebastian smiled widely, that familiar glint pooling in his eyes. He couldn’t help himself - he thought you were delightful. His lips came forward to press to your neck, pulling a soft moan from your lips. Tangling your fingers through his hair, his sensual lip work on your pulse point had your stomach turning a flip.

Sebastian slowly peeled his own clothes away from his body, his toned exterior greeting yours. As you drew in a deep breath, your airways were hit with the familiar scent of lavender and honey, which happened to be your favorite. Guiding you towards the bath while still pressing sweet kisses to your neck, Sebastian and you were soon settled into the steaming hot water. Your boyfriend and you both released tasteful moans at the feeling.

Once his back was settled to the tub, Sebastian wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to his chest. Your eyes rolled at the feeling of his arms encasing you, pouring hot water over you in the process. Humming, Sebastian’s smile widened at the adorable sounds you made.

“You needed this, didn’t you, baby?” He cooed into your ear, swaying you back and forth gently. The rocking motions were enough to induce sleep again, but you were trying your hardest to remain present.

“Mmhm,” You responded with your lips pressed together. Sebastian smiled, feeling as you turned over in the water. With the ability to curl against him, he held onto you, his laugh lines appearing as you nuzzled into his chest. He kissed the top of your head, his hands massaging into your lower back where the pain originated. Basing his strength on the noises that were consistently being pulled from your mouth, his handiwork was proven effective. He heard you begin to snore within fifteen minutes, causing him to laugh and roll his eyes.

Getting you out of the tub was a slight hassle, as once you were disturbed from the warmth of his chest and the water around you, he reassured you that you’d be cuddled to him within a moment’s notice. Helping you get dressed, your head forehead fell against his abdomen where he stood in front of you. He tangled his fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, which happened to be a mistake. You were giving into sleep quicker than ever, your desperation to be curled against him all the more pushing forward.

Once you were dressed and settled in bed, Sebastian slipped in beside you. Pulling you on top of him, your arms reached around to hold onto his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your own tired kisses to his throat. Dancing his fingertips across the skin of your back, Sebastian brought a sense of calm and relief over you.

Lavender and honey always did the trick on you, but it was more so because you had the best boyfriend in existence.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, drool falling from the corner of your mouth. Sebastian chuckled, hugging you close.

“Of course, baby. You deserve it.” His voice assured you. “Now, go to sleep, beautiful. You need it.” Kissing the top of your head, you smiled and wrapped your legs through his.

His providing warmth and comfort had you seeing stars.

He was the true definition of perfect.

➳ tagging: @high-functioning-lokipath @eclecticlokibytomhiddleston @spidyyparker @nervousbiscutzonkslime @kiolabean @caritobbg @lynnettes-stuff @na-nou83 @straightforwardly @tiredmamamac @herpes-free-since-05 @ellerosie2332 @stuckybarton @peachsteven @moonshooter @holdmytesseract @l0st-in-reality @lassie-bird @wander-lustbabe @captain-asguard @xfirespritex @inas-thing @primadxna-girl @harrietbarnesblog @a-laufeysonlanablakelee @marvelgirl0515 @haroldpotterson @blackberryblossom @stephv213 @asgardianprincess1050 @pandaxnienke @abaristasbabble @highly-functioning-mitochondria @rach2602 @my-river-lilly

Freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ You’re under arrest for being so lovely. Copy this message to 10 other blogs that you think are beautiful and deserve it. Keep the game going and make others feel beautiful! (no pressure tho!) 💙💜

Awww you're sooo sweet, anon. 🥺💗 Thank you so much for this ask!!!

you are rly nice and ur pfp is great!!

Thank you sooo much for the ask & the compliment, @matchalattegreen !!! You're sooo sweet! 🥺💗

sebastian stan as a husband material

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🎁🎁🎁

Frank Iero and Sebastian Stan went to the same school at the same time?

So I was wondering if Frank would be on that like “notable alumni’ part of google for where he went to college (he wasn’t because he dropped out) so I was scrolling through and saw then Seb went to the same school. I couldn’t remember just how old he is but I was thinking - he’s probably around the same age as Frank right? Seb is a little younger but because of when in the year they were born they’d be in the same year or a year apart. So… until Frank dropped out to be in MCR Frank Iero and Sebastian Stan went to the same college at the same time. It’s honestly so weird to think they could’ve passed each other in the halls of the music building or something like that.

Knowing that I'll never be able to hug Sebastian Stan really hurts

you don't understand... I'm OBSESSED

“stop trying to figure a way out of this… and do what you’re told”.

SEBASTIAN  STAN  as  NICK  FOWLER   |    THE  355

Sebastian Stan as Mickey Henry

MONDAY 2021 | dir. Argyris Papadimitropoulos

cursed

summary: Bucky is trapped with you after activating a curse, and the time you spend together waiting for it to be broken proves to be quite revealing.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +2k

warnings: nothing i think, just a few mean words maybe. also, English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes!

note: i don't think i like the way this came out, so i'll probably re-write tomorrow morning. there's just something that still doesn't fits me. but if you like it, please let me know! i really love reading your comments, it's kinda inspiring. <3

The hallway was silent as Bucky turned the corner, having spent several minutes walking from his own room. Tony, Natasha and you had just returned from a mission with not very good news, considering that the one you wanted to capture had easily escaped by setting a rather clever trap for you, which was the least you could expect from a sorcerer.

However, that was all Bucky heard. Steve had communicated with him as soon as they had all arrived, informing him that they would be in the meeting room and that he should also attend as there was an important matter to discuss. But Bucky wasn't too concerned about that, and instead asked him about you.

“Oh,” Steve had blurted out, confused by Bucky's strange need to know about you; normally he was quite reserved and discreet, “She's not coming, she's in her room. But don't even think about-”

Bucky suddenly felt strange, agonising nerves coursing through his body. Had something happened to you? Were you hurt? No, you would have been taken to the medical wing. Then again... you might as well have come from there. Worry bloomed in his chest and he felt dizzy for a few seconds. Seconds in which Steve continued to talk to him about something, maybe about the meeting, but about what Bucky hadn't heard at all.

“Okay. Thanks, Steve!”

And he hung up on him.

Immediately, Bucky started on his way to your room in the Complex, which wasn't too far from his. For some reason, the closer he got, a sense of anticipation grew in his chest in a rush. He had never stopped to think about it, neither at that moment nor the other bunch of times it had happened to him, ignoring the feeling as if it were a normal, everyday occurrence.

Now, he approached your room, whose door was ajar, and he could clearly hear you insulting someone from a distance.

His metal hand lightly touched the door, moving it without making a sound. He watched you with your back to him, your hands in your hair and your posture tense and irritated. You let out a sigh, rather sharply, for which Bucky arched an eyebrow.

Bucky approached, and with his blessedly quiet footsteps as quiet as a butterfly's flutter, you didn't notice he'd come in and gotten so close until you felt a hand rest on the skin of your forearm.

You tensed.

A hand, it was touching you.

You turned suddenly, at the same time gripping the wrist of Bucky's right hand with a little more force than normal. The man was a little taken aback, frowning at your rudeness and, moreover, at the hostile way in which your gaze rested on his.

You didn't let go and simply stared at his raised eyebrows and strangely defensive posture. He seemed too surprised to formulate a word.

“What the hell did you do?” you hissed angrily and between your teeth, in a tone that sent a shiver up and down Bucky's spine. Suddenly, he felt cornered and helpless in a corner with no way to defend himself.

“What do you mean, what did I do?” he asked in confusion, his face contorting in shock the tighter you tightened your grip on his wrist.

Bucky feigned to pull his hand away, to try to wriggle away from your predatory stance that made him feel disarmed and helpless. You had never seen him in such a... savagely wrathful manner. His thoughts turned to your last conversation, to the last time you saw each other, trying to decipher whether he had done something wrong. Or if, during the days you were gone, he did something that could cause you to be so defensive of him.

But you didn't allow him to pull his hand away. It became a game of tug and pull, where you wouldn't let him leave your touch even though it seemed like you'd rather have him more than a mile away, or not see him again for days at a time.

“What are you doing?”

“Me?” you replied incredulously, and your expression grew much more quizzical if that was even possible, “What are you doing, you big idiot? Did you think it was fun to come and do that?”

“Do what?” Bucky replied, but for some reason he felt he was only making things worse with his questions, digging his own grave, “I just wanted to come and see if you were alright.”

“Oh yeah? And do I look okay to you? Do I look okay to you with this?”

You squeezed his wrist once more and Bucky cringed under your gaze. Okay, this exceeded any outlandish situation he'd ever been in before today.

“I don't understand what's wrong with you, but I didn't do anything wrong,” Bucky tried to defend himself, but his words felt like he was trying to put out a fire with a piece of cardboard, “If you're upset about the donuts, it was Clint who ate them. And I found out when they were out of the fridge. Or I would have stopped it, I swear.”

You frowned, your grip softening a little.

“Clint ate my donuts?”

“Isn't that why you're upset?”

“No, you idiot! It's because you're here... touching me! How did you even think of that?”

Bucky couldn't make sense of your exaltation. Since when was him doing that bad? He tried to think back to something he might have done wrong to suddenly want to chase him away like that, but there was nothing....

You let out a snort and kept a firm grip on his wrist, which was still on your forearm, his hands wrapped around it in fear.

“I think Steve must have been pretty clear when he told you.”

What?

“When he told me what?”

You arched an eyebrow. Steve hadn't told him? No, he said he would talk to him to tell him as soon as he left your room, as well as informing him about the emergency meeting they were going to have with the rest of the team.

“Bucky!”

An exalted exclamation from the aforementioned. Steve. You and Bucky turned to see the blond standing in the doorway, watching Bucky's grip on your forearm. A forbidden grip at the moment.

“What did you do?” he spoke again, this time in a reproachful tone, “I told you she was cursed, Bucky!”

Cursed?

“The sorcerer they were facing captured her. He cast a spell on her saying that, the next person to have contact with her, however fleeting, would fall into a deep sleep as they drifted away from her touch.”

Oh.

Oh.

“The meeting we called was to inform everyone, and because Tony decided to call Strange, but you,” he pointed at him with narrowed eyes, “I told you earlier on the phone because I knew you'd come running and be reckless. How the hell didn't you listen to me?”

Bucky didn't answer him. The truth was, he had a habit of not listening to what Steve told him, especially when it came to not doing something. Sometimes he did it on purpose, sometimes he didn't, like this time.

“Now,” you took your turn to speak, in the same tone of voice, reprimanding him just as Steve had, “you can't let go of me until Strange gets here.”

Bucky nodded his head once, not looking you in the eye. A sense of shame came over him, and for the first time he decided he had listened to Steve.

---

You had sat on the floor of your room minutes later. Steve had left, telling you FRIDAY or Tony would let you know when Stephen arrived, and warned Bucky again what would happen to him if he ever let you go.

But there was no need, it had already been made abundantly clear to him.

Now you were in a rather awkward silence. You kept looking angry, and every time your annoyed gaze met his, Bucky would direct it elsewhere in the room, pretending that your posters were something to admire or that the trees outside the window had some profoundly interesting mystery to solve.

But he didn't dare speak to you.

That's why you decided to take pity on him.

“Sam told me that on Saturday you accompanied him to see a game.”

Bucky looked sideways at you, crestfallen. His throat made a sound of affirmation before he looked down again.

“I didn't know you liked football,” you continued.

“I don't,” he finally replied. He let out a sigh and his hand on your forearm tensed slightly, “I just wanted him to leave me alone. That was the only way.”

“Yeah, you know Sam's always badgering you with outlets to irritate you, but he never expects you to actually accept, do you?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at you.

“Just the same, it was a nice gesture that you decided to go along with him.”

“It wasn't an at-will decision, I was tired of him asking me every few minutes if I wanted to go to a club or climb a mountain,” he blurted out gruffly, his features retracting in annoyance, “I was overwhelmed. He coerced me indirectly.”

You let out a chuckle at his choice of words, and you found the sulky way in which he tried to defend his stance of not putting up with Sam and his presence under any circumstances too funny.

“I think deep down you enjoyed it.”

Bucky let out a snort, followed by a wry laugh. He shook his head and his gaze returned to the trees.

“There's nothing fun about going to a bar to watch a simple football game. We didn't even have to go out, we have a TV here.”

You curved your lips into a smile, watching his frown.

“So you applied the law of ice to him.”

“What he deserved.”

“What he deserved for wanting to get along with you?”

“For screwing with me. You said so yourself.”

You let out a laugh, now strangely nervous at his meek way of getting irritated when it came to Sam. Ever since Falcon had told you that he'd dragged Bucky to watch a game with him after weeks of bugging him about it, you couldn't stop a thought from running freely through your head: if you'd asked him, would he have said yes? You had a good relationship, or at least you thought Bucky tolerated you, but you didn't know if he'd go so far as to agree to a date with you.

Especially knowing what that meant or, to your misfortune, that he would ignore it altogether.

His tense posture prevented you from asking him that question.

“Maybe you would have felt more comfortable on the mountain.”

Bucky took a deep breath, as if to imagine the scenario for a moment.

“I think it would have been better with anyone else.”

Your heart leapt.

“Anyone?”

Bucky shrugged.

“Steve, probably.”

“Oh,” you blurted out heavily, your shoulders slumping noticeably.

Bucky watched you in the silence, his eyes deliberately scanning the features of your face. He then decided to take the initiative to start the conversation this time.

“So, someone cast a spell on you.”

No, not like that, you idiot.

You frowned, shaking your head slowly in a nod.

“Yes, a sorcerer,” you replied sarcastically and amused, a smile dancing on your lips.

Bucky nodded.

“With magic,” you let out a laugh, “And it was my first time in case you were wondering too.”

Bucky sighed. His metal hand moved to rest behind his neck in a nervous gesture.

“I'm sorry, it's just that we hardly ever spend time alone. This is... weird.”

You scowled at him, again, and Bucky jumped in place running over his words.

“I didn't- I didn't mean it that way. I meant that- that we hadn't been the two of us before... like this, and we don't know each other. I mean, we do know each other, but we don't know each other very well, and this-this...”

The smile you flashed shut him up, pursing his lips in a frustrated gesture.

“Even if it wasn't like this before, I did look for moments to have alone time with you,” he blurted out suddenly, surprising himself.

You watched him frowningly, your shoulders squared with the tension of uncertainty. Your chest puffed out with a deep breath in surprise at his words.

Bucky wasn't lying. You mean, he would never say something like that just to say it.

Wouldn't he?

“Are you serious?” you couldn't help but ask.

Bucky licked his bottom lip, suddenly feeling the room shrink around him.

“Yes,” he blurted out, feigning a nonchalant tone, shifting his shoulders to emphasise his intent.

Suddenly, you felt bold, and decided to take the risk.

“So, if I had invited you instead of Sam, would you have said yes?”

“Of course,” Bucky replied without hesitation.

Your eyebrows rose, surprising you for what felt like the third time that afternoon. Bucky was watching you expectantly, nervous and looking rather out of place.

“Then maybe we could go out this weekend,” you suggested, unsure and testing a possibility.

Bucky didn't respond instantly, and with each passing second, the atmosphere grew a little more tense, or at least you felt that way. When your smile had almost disappeared completely, Bucky began to shake his head in assent.

“As long as it's not to watch a game,” he joked, and you felt your shoulders lighten once more.

You let out a laugh.

“I was thinking more like a restaurant.”

“A restaurant sounds good.”

“Thai food?”

“Okay.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes locked on yours. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the huge grin that wanted to plaster itself on your face, and Bucky's grip on your forearm suddenly felt more familiar and less rigid.

“Hey,” Tony's voice echoed through the speakers, “If you two are done flirting, Strange is here. He's heading over there right now.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but the fact that Bucky only smiled openly and spontaneously brought a warmth to your chest that made you feel more comfortable. And now you had a date with him.

Wow, who knew? All it took was a curse.

disappear

summary: when you disappeared from Bucky's life, he felt he had lost everything, until he realised that your presence was not the only thing that had disappeared.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: +3k

warnings: just a little sadness at the beginning, but wait for it!

note: i don't know what got into me, but apparently my dream is gone and my head is racing with these writings. anyway, thanks for the support and enjoy!

Bucky spent weeks wondering why. Had he done something wrong? Had something he had said upset you so much? Had he become rude to you? He simply couldn't find a reason, and spent many nights just staring at the ceiling thinking that he was the cause of all his problems.

Because what other reason would you have for leaving if it wasn't himself? Maybe he wasn't enough, or you probably got tired of trying to understand him. Surely you found someone more stable, more alive, and you saw no reason to believe that Bucky deserved an explanation. Maybe he didn't even deserve that.

The only thing he had back was silence. The stormy silence that had been cured by nights spent together, talking, watching movies, doing whatever and coordinating so much that Bucky could only think you were made for him, and he was made for you.

But in the end, it seemed like he was the only one who thought that. Because you didn't hesitate for a second, when you surely had the chance, to walk out the door and never come back. You didn't even take your things with you, you just disappeared from his life without any kind of explanation.

The first few days were the worst. Confusion and denial took over his body so much that he went out every night to walk around the city, just to hope that he could find you somewhere, and that you could explain to him what the hell had happened, or what he had done wrong that had made you run away from him.

No one in the team seemed to know what had happened. They hadn't heard from you since the last time they'd been together, all having dinner at Stark's house. The last time Bucky had seen you. He couldn't get in touch with any of your family either, the only thing he knew about them was the city they lived in, but they used to move all the time.

After a while, hopeless and disillusioned, he had finally resigned himself. Something had gone wrong, or something had been missing, but he had failed your relationship. And he spent weeks like that, blaming himself for your surprising and inexplicable escape, and no one could ever change his mind. He withdrew into himself again, only coming out on missions or for the bare necessities; his presence souring as the days went by, hurt and pained by what you had done.

Bucky wanted to believe he didn't deserve it, but over time he came to believe that he did.

"Hey, Buck," Steve's voice woke him up, and he had to lift his head to look at his friend standing next to him, "We're heading back to the Quinjet now, you coming?"

Bucky watched him, sitting at one of the tables in the coffee shop in the city, the city where your parents lived. Or at least, the one he thought they lived in. Just thinking about it again, about you, about what had happened, fanned the flame of disappointment and the pain felt as fresh as the moment he realised you weren't coming back. Rubbing salt in the wound fell short of the feeling he felt at the mere remembrance of your abandonment.

"Go on, I'll catch up," he replied to Steve, who only pursed his lips and gave him a nod.

Bucky watched them leave, immersed in the storm of sensations he thought he had learned to tame months ago.

He looked down at his milkshake and sighed. Although a part of him, long before he had arrived in this city, believed he would feel hopeful about being there, the truth was that he had plenty of desire and reason to run.

But his body felt too heavy, and if he didn't believe there was a chance then he had no reason to be in a hurry.

He came out a couple of minutes later. The weather in the city was hot, which you always complained about because you couldn't wear a blazer for too long before you started hyperventilating or turned into a portable sauna. Bucky surveyed the buildings, feeling a strange, unwelcome familiarity run through his body.

He began to walk away from the cafeteria and closer to the team's rendezvous point to get back to Washington.

But he stopped a few moments later

At the intersection, everything seemed normal enough, at least as normal as it could be in a congested city like that. Nevertheless, he sensed something strange in the air, as if the wind carried with it the ill omen of an impending disaster.

He scanned his surroundings keenly and shrewdly, alert to register every strange movement and ready to defend himself if necessary.

But there seemed to be nothing to worry about, unless he considered a woman's fallen shopping bag across the street a threat.

Bucky watched her figure, his hands tingling with unfamiliar anticipation. He began to feel the need to walk towards her, to see her, to touch her... but no. He stopped in time. It had already happened to him several times to go after a woman who looked exactly like you, but only earned a reproach, a bad look and disappointment. It had been a long time since he had stopped looking for you, and he wouldn't start looking for you now.

But the woman turned away just as Bucky was about to continue on his way, and he froze in place.

It was like a mirage. There was no way in the universe that anyone could look that similar... no, it was impossible.

Bucky clasped his hands, his breathing quickening in anticipation of events. He felt a tingle run through his body, and he didn't know if it was the product of surprise or fear. Despite the high temperature of the city, Bucky sensed a chill and his body shrank, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. The pain in his chest, the one he hadn't felt in months, had just returned fiercely, stealing his breath as he couldn't tear his gaze away from the woman who had entered that building.

He didn't even hesitate when he started jogging in the same direction.

He had begun to hyperventilate even before he picked up his pace, gripped by his fear and his expectations. If it was really you, what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to act? Was he supposed to look angry? Was he supposed to ask for explanations? Did he still have the right to do that?

He went up the stairs two at a time, not even knowing on which of all the floors you had probably stopped.

But he didn't have to try very hard to find out. On the fourth floor, at the end of the corridor, you were standing in the doorway. Bucky felt his breath taken away. It had been so long...

Your hair was long, much longer than the last time he'd seen you, with slightly lighter ends and slight waves that ended at the small of your back. You no longer wore rings, your fingers, on the door frame, were empty of them. Yet you were still dressed in the same way he knew: casually formal, but not uncomfortably so.

Bucky felt he was seeing a version of you so familiar, yet at the same time so unfamiliar and alien to what he remembered. It was strange to him that he could tell how much he knew about you just by seeing you from afar.

Suddenly, without warning, you turned around, closed the door and started walking in his direction. You didn't realise anyone was there until you reached the middle of the corridor.

Your little smile faded, the same smile you always gave him from afar or on the nights you spent together, knowing and mischievous, but as soft and loving as only you could make it, and Bucky felt his heart faint.

A thousand scenarios ran through his mind. You walking back down the hall, him following you and ending up in an argument. You, trying to ignore him and him claiming you for what you'd done. You, walking away, ignoring his suffering, leaving him behind as you had done months ago, totally insensitive and oblivious to the agonising life you had forced him to live since you left.

Bucky imagined it all in those few seconds when you were looking into each other's eyes, you with a confused expression and Bucky surely with a sour and frightened expression, but he definitely didn't imagine what, in the end, came out of your mouth.

"Hi," you smiled at him, as if it was nothing.

Bucky felt himself short-circuiting.

"Are you looking for someone?"

He watched you, and couldn't even decipher what he was feeling, nor what was going through his mind at the moment. Your gaze on his wasn't rude, it wasn't contemptuous, it wasn't scornful; you were looking at him the same way you did when you first met: with your relaxed, gentle, curious features. And how the hell was he supposed to act in the face of that?

"Wait," you blurted out suddenly, your eyebrows raised and your smile widening into a very peculiar joy, as if you had just realised something, but it couldn't be what he was thinking. Why were you still smiling? "Are you Mark, the one from Tinder? Because if you are, let me tell you, you look very, very different. Although I don't think Sophie would mind in the same way."

You let out a laugh, and a feeling that Bucky thought was gone bloomed in his chest again. Adoration.

But he couldn't answer you. He didn't understand what the hell was going on.

"Are you Mark?" your corners turned down and you arched an eyebrow.

"Y/N," Bucky blurted out, as if he'd just seen a ghost.

Your face contracted in confusion.

"Do I know you?"

Suddenly, Bucky felt a discomfort sweep through his body. He didn't even stop to consider the situation fully, his mind was already scheming the thousand reproaches he wanted to make to you for leaving him. For leaving, and taking everything about him with you.

"I don't know what you're doing, but it's not funny," his voice came out rude and curt, reflecting the anger that mingled with the jumble of thoughts that were creating a dilemma in his mind.

"Excuse me, but I think you've got the wrong person. I... I don't know you."

"Of all the things I thought you might say to me, if we ever met again, I didn't think you'd stoop so low."

Your eyebrows rose in surprise and indignation. Bucky knew that look all too well.

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but I'm not going to let you talk to me that way."

"You don't know who I am?" Bucky exclaimed incredulously, "So that's how fast you forget two years together, huh?"

"But what are you talking about?"

Bucky was about to refute again. He came within an inch of blurting out everything that had been rattling around in his head for the past few months where his only company had been his shattered mind and deteriorating heart. He was angry, he was sad, he felt disarmed and vulnerable, his head was filled with words of hatred, resentment and bitterness... but he couldn't get a single word out. Not when you looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

Not when he'd noticed you clasping your hands at the sides of your body, leaning slightly forward, resting your weight on your right leg and scowling so hard it looked like it might stay that way forever. No, Bucky knew you well enough to be able to deduce the truth just by facing you, and at that moment, in addition to being angry, you were defensive, scared and confused.

But he couldn't understand...

"You don't... remember me?" was what came out of his mouth, trying to make sense of the conjectures his mind was coming up with. He hadn't even meant to say it, thinking out loud guilelessly.

"I think I said quite clearly that I have no idea who you are."

Your face, hardened with anger, remained fixed and determined looking in his direction.

Bucky felt like he looked like jelly, trembling and fragile.

Then, suddenly, your gaze softened. You opened your hands and settled into a more communicative position, more open to civilised talk.

"What is your name?"

He felt the sting of tears welling in his eyes.

"Bucky."

"Bucky," you repeated, savouring his name on your lips just as you had the first time.

His pulse jumped into a frenzy, and he had to clasp your hands so that the trembling in them would stop distracting him from thinking about the possibilities.

You were there. You really were there in front of him.

"I..." you spoke again, this time looking more nervous, "Well, I don't know how to tell you this tactfully, considering no one seems to have told you before. So I'll just say it. I lost my memory."

You lost your memory.

But... what the hell?

You must have sensed the big question mark on Bucky's face, because you hastened to add, "Three years ago I was in an accident on my way home. A truck hit my car for running a red light. I was in a coma for over four months and, when I woke up, I didn't remember what I had done with my life for the past five years. I didn't remember many people who claimed to be my friends, and I had a hard time re-adjusting to the routine I had already established."

You paused, waiting for the man in front of you to weigh and process the information.

"For my recovery, I came to live with my parents and decided to stay when I finished. They never mentioned anything about you. Do you live around here?"

"I live in Washington," Bucky replied automatically.

"Washington," you cocked your head, recalling the information your parents had given you, "Well, they just told me I used to live there before the accident, nothing beyond that."

Bucky was dumbfounded, trying to comprehend, analyze and correlate the facts only to realize that yes, there was no way you were lying to him just to get him off your back. And though he wanted to focus on the flood of guilty feelings that washed over him at the thought of spending months cursing your name only to find out now that you'd been in the hospital, Bucky could only focus on the last thing you'd told him.

Your parents hadn't told you about him. Absolutely nothing, not even about the rest of the team you'd fraternized with so much. Bucky would have preferred to say and believe it was a surprise, but it wasn't really.

Your parents never hid their contempt for your relationship with him. In the beginning, when you moved in with him, they called you every three days just to try to convince you to move back home with them, saying that a good-for-nothing like him couldn't give you what you needed, let alone what you wanted. You never listened to them, obviously, but those situations stayed in his head for a long time, and intensified after you disappeared from his life without a trace.

And now it made sense.

You hadn't abandoned him. You had an accident, you lost all your memories of him, and your parents took advantage of that heartbreaking situation to finally achieve their goal: to separate you from him for good.

And it hurt. It hurt like bloody hell. Not just what they'd done, but Bucky had spent days blaming you, cursing you, believing you'd gone to someone else who could give you more than him, finally succumbing to your parents' desire. And no, it wasn't possible for Bucky to know something like that had happened, but it hurt him that it hadn't been long before he'd begun to think the worst of you, as if you didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt.

Bucky looked up, not quite sure when in the midst of his musings he had lowered his gaze, and rested his eyes on your wary gaze. Even without knowing him, you seemed genuinely concerned.

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, "I have no idea why my parents didn't tell you."

"I can figure it out," he muttered bitterly.

You let out a snort and your expression quickly changed to anger, "I'm going to talk to them about it. I can't believe they were so inconsiderate."

Bucky couldn't help but let out a chuckle. You had changed, but not by much. You still looked like a little girl throwing a tantrum when you got mad, and him saying that about you definitely used to piss you off too.

"Did we know each other a lot?" you asked, the anger fading from your features to give way to intrigue.

"We lived together."

Your eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"And my parents never considered telling me?" you exclaimed, sceptical.

"I'm not surprised," Bucky commented, a bitter smile creeping onto his face, "They never approved of our relationship."

Your head jerked up, expressing a denial of your parents' behaviour.

However, the information you had just gained felt overwhelming. A few seconds ago, the knowledge you had of the five years wiped from your memory was that you had lived with your parents most of the time, and that you had recently moved to Washington shortly before the accident. Honestly, you found it surprising that your parents would lie to you just to keep you away from a man you apparently used to really love.

And just the thought that he must have spent all those months believing you had abandoned him, it made you feel an emptiness in your chest that surely didn't compare to the emptiness he must have felt, and only because of a deception. It's not as if you were now trying to get back together with him just by knowing that, you don't remember him, but you were sure that if he had known that, it might have been a little more encouraging, either to move on and forget your relationship, or to build a new one. But your parents wouldn't let you make that decision.

"I'm really sorry, Bucky."

"It's okay, it's all right, love."

Bucky blurted out the nickname he called you by most of the time without even realizing it, until he watched your face contract in surprise and discomfort.

"I didn't- I didn't mean it like that," he tried to excuse himself, "I mean, maybe I did, but it's not at all appropriate right now. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you smiled at him through tight lips, and Bucky mimicked you.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, and though you certainly didn't remember anything of your time together, a warm feeling formed in your chest.

"So, we lived together."

Bucky smiled, "Yeah, we'd been together for ten months when we moved in."

"How long were we together?"

"Two years and three months."

You raised your eyebrows.

"Wow, that's definitely my longest relationship."

Bucky let out a laugh and you sheepishly joined him.

You played with your fingers, lacing and unlacing them in front of you, a nervous gesture that Bucky was quite familiar with. He was about to tell you that he could go away, leave it at that, and wish you a good life, but you beat him to the punch.

"How about we go down to the cafeteria?" you suggested, leaving him speechless for a few moments, "I mean, to talk. I guess you spent a bitter time not knowing the truth, I think the least you deserve is a little time."

At the time, Bucky didn't understand how he could have ever even considered that you would do something with the sole intention of hurting him. He got more hurt himself as time went on.

"Well, if you're comfortable with that, I'm fine with it. But if you want me to leave, that's okay too. I'll understand."

"No," you exclaimed quickly, "I don't have a problem. On the contrary, I have a lot of questions, so I hope you have the afternoon off."

Bucky remembered Steve and the rest of the team, making a mental note to write to him that he would return to Washington later.

His mouth widened into a smile, as you began to walk further towards him, heading for the stairs.

"As long as you need."

bittersweet feelings (1)

summary: you have to deal with the harsh truth after Bucky arrives from one of his missions.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

warnings: nothing i think, just you know English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes!

words: +2.5k

note: hi! I've been feeling physically unwell since I last posted and have been in bed, but today I was finally able to get a moment of calm and lucidity, so, enjoy and hope you like it!

also, i've been working on a series that I want to publish soon, but I don't know why I always find it difficult to do all that planning. anyway, I really hope I can bring it to you soon! thank u for all the support!

part 2

part 3

Admiring Bucky Barnes from afar has become too much of a challenge in recent days. Before, you were wrapped up in papers, essays, final exams and projects due, locking yourself in your room at a time or living in your university library, simply too busy to wander your eyes over the sprawling figure of Bucky strolling around the Complex. Ironically, he always spent more time there when you weren't there.

But now, completely free of academic responsibilities and banned from going on missions at Fury's whim, you had a lot more time to wander the halls of the Complex, especially in the gym where the man with the metal arm used to spend most of his time. Many times (if not all the time) you felt like a lousy attempt of a stalker, and you was almost 100% sure that he realised what you were doing but preferred not to say anything so as not to embarrass you. And that was much more embarrassing.

But did that stop you? Absolutely not.

He'd cut his hair a few days ago, and although you loved the way his hair looked on his shoulders and the way it blew in the wind every time he walked, as if he were a model on a bloody photo shoot, you shamelessly admitted that you had quickly grown to love his new style. Because, honestly, did something look bad on Bucky?

Your hands moved indiscreetly across the table, crumpling the paper between your fingers that you had previously been reading, as you watched the aforementioned man's shoulders shake after hearing Sam Wilson say something about Scott's card game. You moved your eyes scanning his entire face, trying to memorise the expression on his face as he smiled so openly, as he almost never did in public.

“Am I interrupting your crazy stalker moment?”

Tony's voice startled you, and you turned your head so sharply to look at something other than Bucky that a slight twinge of pain made its way from the back of your neck to your right shoulder. You grimaced and watched the millionaire sit down next to you on one of the black chairs that were spread out in the first floor cafeteria. Ahead of you, a large glass door separated you from one of the side exits of the Complex, where Bucky and Sam had stopped to talk and, surely at first, discuss the mission Bucky had just returned from.

“I'm not a crazy stalker,” you told him dismissively, but your nerves were eating you up inside. Even though you knew you weren't entirely discreet, you still weren't ready for someone to tell you that you were too obvious for him not to know anymore.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Tony commented sarcastically and you felt a quick pang of fear inside your chest, “I was just coming to tell you that Fury made the decision to send you to Milan with Steve the other week.”

Your gaze finally shifted away from Bucky's figure, closer and closer to where you stood, to Tony and you frowned at him in extreme confusion.

“What? So soon?”

“Isn't that what you wanted? To go back to the camp?”

“Well, yes, but I thought his tantrum was going to last much longer.”

Tony let out a laugh and proceeded to open the packet of peanuts in his pocket, “If he hears you say that, consider yourself fired, kiddo.”

“Then it's a relief that no one heard me say it,” you smiled innocently at Tony, who only gave you a tight-mouthed smile in return.

“It's just a recon mission. Steve thinks there's an empty HYDRA base you can investigate, and you're pretty nimble with that non-digitized document review stuff.”

“You mean I'm good at reading physical documents?”

“You know what I mean, eagle eyes. There's nothing you're missing.”

“Ow,” you croon with a smile, “Thanks for the compliment, Stark.”

“You're welcome. Now, don't go freaking out. Barnes is walking this way.”

He then stood up and planted himself in front of you, as your heart did a wild flip and you felt him pause for a second, before resuming his march at an unnatural pace. You didn't even know if it was possible for a heart to beat that fast. You felt sweat beading on your hands and started to breathe through your mouth as you felt the nervousness take over your whole body.

“What?” you exclaimed, staring at him, sitting uncomfortably in the chair across the table they had shared.

“I told you not to freak out, you're only going to make it worse.”

You narrowed your eyes at him with a frown. Next, you took about three deep breaths to try and calm your frantic heartbeat, before Sam's figure - and consequently Bucky's - appeared in your field of view to the side of Stark's body. The man gave you a look with an arched eyebrow, as if to ask you to behave yourself, which was an exaggeration.

That was an exaggeration. You spent a lot of time with Bucky! Even when you two were alone you didn't feel as nervous as you did at moments like this.

When your gazes met, you could barely return the smile he gave you before you turned your eyes to Sam, who had just spoken but you hadn't gotten to hear everything he'd said because your head was in the clouds.

“...and that you're going back to the camp with Steve. How long since you've been out? Almost four months? You must be anxious.”

You just nodded, looking at him through tight lips.

Tony rubbed his eyes in an exasperated gesture.

“I could ask Fury to let me tag along,” Bucky's voice reached your ears like a forbidden delicacy. It had been several days since you'd last heard it and it was like a gift from the gods, “Lest he bore you with his awkward silences.”

“We don't have awkward silences,” you grumbled quickly, not knowing exactly why you were getting defensive. Tony raised his eyebrows at you and you shrugged in place, “I mean, we talk about a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky's jocular tone didn't do much for your nerves and sanity, “Name a topic you've been talking about for more than three minutes.”

You pursed your lips and stared at his perfect face, uninjured by the mission, as you conjured up memories of your conversations with Steve. Your almost non-existent conversations.

Your cheeks flushed as you realised he was right, but you weren't going to let him win you over this time.

“One time, we talked all night about a movie.”

“If you're going to say you talked about Lord of the Rings, that doesn't count,” Sam spoke with a half smile on his face.

“Why not?” you grumbled quickly, watching the grimace in his face.

“He talks to everyone about those movies. It doesn't even feel like a conversation anymore, it's like a monologue.”

“Careful, Sam,” Tony spoke up after several seconds, “She likes those movies too.”

“Hey! They're good movies.”

“Good for a nap,” Sam let out a laugh.

You watched Bucky pursed his lips and looked down at the floor, holding back a chuckle.

“They're entertaining,” you muttered with a frown.

Sam pointed at you, his eyebrows arched and his corners raised in a playful grin.

“Well, that's it,” Bucky interrupted whatever Sam was going to say, “You know what they say, to each his own.”

“I'm with Barnes on this one,” Tony spoke up, resting one of his hands on Barnes' shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. Bucky watched his hand and then the millionaire's face with an arched eyebrow, but Tony quickly turned his attention away from Bucky to Sam, “Speaking of Steve, he asked me to tell you to look for him in the main room. He said something about a pending conversation.”

Tony put his arm around Sam's shoulders, leaning part of his body to lead him to walk with him out of the cafeteria. They promptly struck up a conversation on their way out of the cafeteria, and you felt your hands shake once you realized you were alone with Bucky after a couple of weeks of not being able to talk properly with him.

You turned your head away from where the two people who had accompanied you a few seconds before were leaving, hearing the creak of a chair being dragged in front of you. You watched Bucky move his body into a sitting position, settling his forearms on the table and his eyes fixed on yours. Settling into the chair, you gave him a tight-lipped, tense smile. Act normal.

“So the boss finally gave in,” the black-haired man said, his lips curling as he interlocked his hands.

You nodded your head slightly, “It was quicker than I thought. I thought he'd never let me back in the field.”

“And can you blame him? You sure scared the soul out of his body,” Bucky arched his eyebrows, and the mere memory of what happened gave you a feeling of irritability.

You grimaced, “Oh, it wasn't a big deal.”

“It wasn't a big deal? Honey, you threw yourself at those people all by yourself.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, like you did every time he called you names when you were alone. He never did it in public, and it was something you didn't try to think about very often.

“So what? This was all unnecessarily dramatic,” you tried to say in the most neutral tone of voice possible as you crossed your legs under the table.

“There were twenty men,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Do you think me incapable, Barnes?” you arched an eyebrow, speaking with courage.

“No, of course not,” he quickly replied, his gaze softening, “But you disobeyed a direct order from Natasha and put your life at risk. You know how Fury is with you, he cares too much about you.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your back fall against the back of the chair, “But I'm not made of porcelain. I'm as good as Nat, she trained me herself!”

“But Fury didn't see her grow up.”

Well, he had a point and rightly so. You had grown up with the boss, who had practically adopted you, which was one of the reasons he used to be overprotective or refuse you to do some things because he thought it was for the best. And that fact had also helped you form fraternal bonds with all the Avengers until you were old enough and capable enough to be a part of them.

Well, you saw everyone as a nice family except Bucky. And that was a big problem.

You watched him through your eyelashes with an almost imperceptible pout.

Bucky gave you a beautiful smile, the kind that could light up an entire city, “Honey, I understand that it bothers you, but the position you put Fury in at the time, or everyone for that matter, made it hard for him not to make the decision he did. Maybe he overstepped, I'm not denying that, but he was scared.”

“There were other ways...” you started to renege again.

“And would you really have listened to him?” he inquired without wiping away his smile. It amazed you how lenient he could be with you, when with the rest of the world he was a hermit and sulky most of the time.

You sighed. Yep, you could be pretty stubborn when you put your mind to it.

“Well, the important thing is that he finally realised his mistake,” you blurted out with an amused grin. Bucky frowned and pointed the index finger of his metal arm at you.

“I think you missed the point of our little debate.”

“No, no... I understand, Bucky, I do. But Fury have to trust my skills a little more. I could against all of them! It was a spectacle.”

“But you're not always going to come out on top, sweetheart. At some point someone can catch you off guard, and that's what Fury's afraid of.”

“Well, it'll have to happen at some point. Unfortunately, I'm not invincible,” you agreed and admitted what he had said, because he was certainly right, with a tight-lipped smile.

You thought Bucky would be amused, or at least agree with you, but he merely bowed his head, frowned and tensed noticeably. You noticed that his expression suddenly hardened, and it frightened you that you had said something that would have angered him.

“What?” you asked fearfully.

He looked up from the table to look at you again, waking up. He gave you a smile, but a stiffer, harder and committed one. Your chest tightened, “It's not.... It's nothing. Just try to be careful next time, more cautious if necessary. You know, strategist.”

“Yeah, I know, I don't risk it if I don't think it's necessary.”

“That's my girl.”

You froze for a few seconds, just watching him, before your face heated up into an all too violent blush. He'd never said anything like that to you before... but you certainly didn't balk at the possibility that he might again.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you smiled shyly at him.

The sound of the cafeteria doors swinging open distracted the man in front of you, but you kept staring at his profile, gawking and surely with heart-shaped eyes. How was it possible that you liked him so much? Even though it had been a while since you last spoke, it seemed that your feelings for him had only grown three times his size.

Then, you heard it:

“Bucky!”

A woman's voice in the distance.

Confused, you turned your gaze in the direction of the voice, which came from the same place Bucky had been watching for several seconds. She was the one who had opened the doors so frantically, then. You frowned at her from a distance, unable to recognise her figure or features; it wasn't usually easy for you to forget the faces of people you knew, and you certainly didn't know this woman.

However, when you turned to ask Bucky, the half-smile on his face gave you the answer without words. Your chest tightened and you clenched your hands so as not to show the abrupt change of mood you had just gone through when he turned his face and fixed his eyes on yours. All without erasing that smile.

That smile he had on his face for her.

“I guess you'll have to go with Steve to schedule everything about the mission.”

You nodded, uncomfortably, not looking away.

“Fine. In the meantime, I'll go on my date,” he crooned, and the burning you felt intensified so much that it felt like you couldn't pass saliva without straining. But you smiled at him, your lips curving awkwardly and your face reluctant to show a feeling you didn't experience.

“Wow, I thought I'd never hear you say something like that.”

“Life is full of surprises, honey,” he said smiling as he stood up, “Do you want me to walk you to the living room?”

“No, don't worry. I'll be there in a minute,” you replied quickly. It was the first time since you had met him that you wanted him to leave you alone for once.

“All right. Good luck with the old man.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your- your- your date.”

You hated the way your voice betrayed you, but Bucky didn't seem to pay too much attention to it as he waved goodbye to you and started walking in the direction of the woman waiting for him outside the cafeteria doors. You felt your chest tighten as you sighed deeply and a couple of tears welled up in your eyes.

Damn it, at what point had all that happened?

patient zero

summary: you get an unknown virus, and Bucky is there to comfort you while you get the cure.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +1.5k

note: no warnings this time, just enjoy some fluff before i get in those episodes where i write heartbreaking things <3

It seemed like the room was spinning, shaking you until you felt again that urge to vomit that you hated so much. Your forehead, your hands, your back, you were completely covered in a thin layer of sweat even though the place you were in was quite cold. To counteract the effects, or so you had heard Banner say.

You hadn't moved from the corner you had made your new home since you entered the pod, mainly because moving involved a whiplash of pain throughout your body. It felt like your skin was burning, like you were on fire, and like your bones were breaking every time you tried to move. Just breathing was being a torture for you, and there were even moments when you purposely stopped inhaling in order to calm the physical agony you were going through.

You knew everyone was doing their best, but at that moment you just wanted to be able to hit them all so that they would hurry up even more.

You looked at your hands in your lap, one of your legs folded against your chest and the other stretched out on the floor. They were pale and trembling violently, and sweat glistened on each of your fingertips. You clenched them tightly, suppressing the exclamation of pain that wanted to come out of your mouth as you did so. It felt like you had hundreds of tiny needles embedding themselves in you at the same time.

“Don't move,” you heard Tony's voice, distorted through the speakers in the room, “We're almost there.”

You tilted your head to look at the mechanic with his back to you, with Banner in front of him and Dr. Cho on either side of him. The three of them were really focused on what they were doing, but from the distance you could barely decipher what it was.

They were making a cure, you heard from your subconscious.

Ah, right, the cure for the damn disease you'd caught and for which you now looked like a sack of jelly-like bones cowering from the world in one corner of the quarantine pod.

The mission was going well. They had captured the henchmen of the woman they were looking for and, although she had tried to escape, you had managed to tackle and handcuff her. Seeing her sitting on the floor against the wall, you remembered how you informed Steve that you had captured her and where you were. And just as you declared victory, the woman played her last ace up her sleeve.

“Next time, make sure you check the hands of whoever you capture,” she had said, and then you noticed a silver cylinder with a red button on it, which she obviously pressed without stopping to think about it.

The next thing you heard was the hissing and movement of machinery, and then a mist began to fill every space in the place. Although you tried to get out, it had already reached you and your throat quickly felt scratchy.

As you felt you were about to vomit your soul out, the woman added, “If you don't have the antidote, it's quite lethal. And, unfortunately, the cure stopped being produced a couple of months ago. Enjoy your last hours, child.”

And so you were locked in a glass capsule while the others tried to create an antidote before you died in agonising pain.

Just how you wanted to spend your weekend.

“Where is she?” you heard an agitated exclamation, and quickly recognised the voice.

“Bucky,” you said breathlessly.

You heard Tony's voice, scolding you surely, as you tried to move from the corner to get closer to the pod door. But you didn't move a foot when Bucky entered the lab. You watched his static figure for a few seconds in the doorway, blurry because you couldn't even see properly anymore, before he started moving to approach the side of the glass you were standing on.

“Honey, no, no, no, no,” Bucky repeated, his face contorting in concern, “Don't move, sweetheart. Hold still. That's it, like that.”

Getting back to your corner was martyrdom, but with Bucky's presence it felt a little more bearable.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, having to strain to even speak properly, “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“It's okay, Y/N,” he assured you sweetly, his gaze sweeping over every part of your face as if he wanted to know how bad your pain was, “What matters now is that you stay as you are, try to move as little as possible. You have to save your strength.”

“I know,” you mumble, your breath escaping quickly, “I'm trying, but it hurts all over just breathing.”

“I understand, honey, but you're a strong woman. I know you can handle this.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself,” you commented with an attempt at a smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, one of us has to look out for you, and considering how little you care about your well being, that has to be me,” Bucky mimicked your smile although he fared much better.

You inwardly cursed that your vision was blurry and you couldn't get a good look at his features, or the beautiful smile he had just given you.

“What are you saying? If I care enough about myself.”

Bucky let out a short laugh, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I have to make sure you've eaten or that you haven't gotten into some trouble by being distracted.”

“But those other times are very few. I don't need you as my babysitter,” you complained.

“Honestly, sweetheart, I don't know where you'd be right now if you didn't have me running after you.”

You let out a laugh, instantly regretting it as whiplash of pain shot through you from your chest to your lower back, and past all of your legs. Then a reflection of the pain began to throb in your head.

“Easy,” Bucky mused, stepping closer to the glass, “Tony's almost done.”

“Yes, kiddo. Hang in there a little longer,” you heard the aforementioned's voice, this time a little more agitated than last time.

You weren't even aware of how long it had been since you had inhaled that unknown substance until that moment, but it had felt like an eternity, especially locked in with that constant pain.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Bucky spoke again. You looked up with difficulty as you took a big breath in through your mouth. For a moment of lucidity, you could observe his worried features once, his restless glittering eyes resting on every part of your face to make sure you weren't going through too much unbearable pain, “Remember what you wanted to tell me this morning? Before you left?”

You frowned, but quickly remembered that moment before you boarded the Quinjet with the others, your body jerking in nervousness and your hands clasped together so your fear wouldn't show.

“Oh, yes, I wanted to tell you that I love you,” you blurted out without thinking too much. Well, that had been easy, why were you so scared before?

Bucky felt the sound in the whole place stop for a few seconds. He watched your face, pale and completely oblivious to his anguish, unconcerned but discreetly contracted in a pain you were trying to hide. You were leaning with one of your shoulders against the white wall, as close as possible to the glass in front of him, who was sitting in a metal chair opposite you.

Your words echoed in his head, as if he had to repeat them to feel that you really meant them. He would never admit how much his breathing had quickened with your statement, or how fast his heart had begun to beat, or the warmth that had planted itself in his chest when you said... that.

He felt different. Like he had found something he didn't even know he was looking for; something he longed to have; something he felt he had been missing for a long time.

He felt different. He felt... at home.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Bucky mused, nervous for the first time, watching you closely with your eyes closed and breathing steady.

“I know,” was your reply.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and then frowned. Suddenly, he was fully aware of the noise of his surroundings, hearing Banner asking for a needle and Tony exclaiming that he had it in front of himself on the silver tray.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Your lips curved unconsciously into a smile, which you tried to wipe off in time because of the pain it caused you.

“Don't give it too much thought, Buck. The important thing is that we've already said it, and before my death.”

“You're not going to die,” Bucky exclaimed quickly, his hands coming to rest in front of the glass.

“No one's going to die tonight!” Tony imprecated as he moved through the lab.

Bucky watched him get a white suit, surely to enter the capsule and avoid any possible contagion. A sigh of relief left him when he saw that Bruce had the antidote injection ready.

He turned his gaze to yours, finding you squinting to get a good look at him. A smile escaped his lips. You moved once more, causing a grimace of pain on your face that Bucky wished he could erase by pulling you into his body, but he knew that would only cause you pain. Just standing there watching you suffer was proving to be martyrdom.

“Do they have the cure yet?” you asked weakly.

“Yes, Y/N.”

“And what's taking them so long?” you raised your voice, intending for the scientists to hear you. Your chest vibrated in pain and you brought one of your hands to where your heart was.

“Try putting on one of these suits in less than three minutes. It's a Guinness record,” Tony spoke as he walked past Bucky, heading towards the double doors of the pod.

“Then I seriously won't die tonight,” you mused, staring at Bucky's blurred figure.

“No, honey.”

“I'll have more time to listen to you say you love me,” you commented with a smile, “And you'll have to get used to hearing it from me, because I'll repeat it until you're tired of it.”

“I don't think I can get tired of you telling me you love me, sweetheart.”

“That's good. That's... very good,” you blurted out forcibly.

“Okay, couple in love, injection time.”

Bucky watched you grimace as Stark knelt down beside you and took your arm as gently as he could, but it didn't stop you from still feeling a rush of pain.

“I'm not going after bad guys with biological weapons again.”

Tony let out a laugh, “Chances are you won't be getting out of here for a while. We need to see how your body reacts and if there will be any side effects.”

“What, aren't those studies supposed to be done first?”

“You wanted us to go through all that while you were here agonising over your death?”

You didn't answer the millionaire, but only because a sense of peace had just washed over your body, making its way through every part of you. You felt like you were lying on a cloud, when you were probably settled in the worst possible position.

“Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to stay with me?”

“Always, sweetheart.”

mixed feelings (2)

summary: the second time you found out about one of Bucky's appointments, it hurt no less than the first.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +2.5k

warnings: i think this is angsty and mention of some bad words, and also you know Englist is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes!

note: you can blame your eyes tell (bts) for the way this turned out, because i had definitely planned something a bit different, and totally less sad than this. but still, hope you enjoy and thank u for the support!

part 1

part 3

The mission with Steve wasn't too bad. A pile of physical files to go through and upload, hoping to find a lead on who you'd been looking for for weeks, half discarded and half scattered in a room in the Complex waiting to be reviewed. And while Bucky and Sam were right when they said you and Steve had silences, this time they weren't awkward, just moments when the two of you were focused on your pile or files, and filled the silence from time to time with questions or funny comments. It was a little different than you thought it would be, and you made a mental note not to allow yourself to be talked down to again.

The only one that left you wondering of your few conversations, was the one you had on the way back, in one of the agency trucks, with Steve sitting across from you in the back of the car:

“Have you talked to Bucky lately?” he had said, his hands clasped in front of him.

You frowned at him before replying, “Yeah, we talked a bit before we left.”

Steve merely nodded, his gaze turning back to the landscape you were leaving behind, with the mountains and their white peaks and the breeze that heralded autumn. You stood watching him, waiting for him to say more, but he kept his words to himself as if he had gotten all he needed to know.

“Why?” you couldn't help but ask.

He turned to watch you out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze, shrugging a shoulder, trying to downplay his sudden curiosity to know something about you and Bucky. Steve had always kept his distance from his friend's relationships, and he'd especially kept his distance from you, so it struck you as odd that he decided to ask now.

“Nothing specific. I just wanted to... know.”

And there the conversation died, mainly because you could quickly deduce that he wasn't going to say anything else no matter how many times you asked. But the thorn of doubt hadn't been able to leave your head for the past three days, incessantly wondering what it was that he really wanted to know, as you sifted through document after document from the large pile you had brought back from the empty facility. Steve accompanied you from time to time, and you were sure he noticed your glance at his figure from time to time by the half-smile he gave you but never turned to look at you.

Suspicious.

“Y/N,” you heard your name in the distance. You turned your head, noticing Melissa, one of your roommates, one of the three with whom you shared the flat you were now in.

Everyone in the Complex had gone out, they just had things to do and you definitely had no plans to stay there locked in your room or wandering the halls alone. When you told Carla, another one of your roommates, she promptly asked you to go, as they were cooking a big dinner and not to celebrate anything specific, just to spend a Friday night comfortably and all together, and surely at the end they would watch a horror movie.

These moments were one of the reasons why you had decided to maintain a constant visit to the flat despite almost living in the Complex. Your roommates didn't hesitate to include you in their plans at any time, no matter where you were or what you were doing, they would wait for you to arrive to start.

Except this time Melissa, Carla and Tim had already started cooking when you wrote to them.

“There's more cheese missing for the sauce, would you mind going to the shop?” Tim looked at you with a little pout.

“But don't go to the one on the corner,” Carla spoke next, her hands nimbly chopping a vegetable on the wooden board, “When you arrived, did you see that Mrs. Williams opened her own shop on the first floor, next to reception?”

You nodded to Carla, as you started to get up and made your way to the counter in front of the kitchen to take some of the money you kept for shopping.

“Buy her a pound of mozzarella cheese and a pound and a half of cheddar cheese.”

“What's the difference from the cheeses at the corner shop?”

“Mrs. Williams' nephew made the cheeses she's selling and honestly, they're some of the best cheese I've ever tasted in my entire life,” Carla praised and Melissa hummed in agreement with her.

“We pulled out some of the one we bought at noon, and it's like a heaven of sensations exploding in your mouth. Just delicious.”

Tim let out a laugh and trotted over to stop in front of you at the counter, “Imagine Melissa with the same expression as Remy from Ratatouille.”

You accompanied him with a laugh as Melissa watched you with narrowed eyes, “If I didn't have my hands full with this fruit, I'd strangle you, Jones.”

You watched Tim roll his eyes before continuing on with his assigned task in the kitchen.

With the money in your hands, you hurried to the exit with a smile on your face. Being in the flat with them was like restarting your day, if it had been a bad one, or completely sweetening a bitter day. You turned the doorknob to open the door and stepped out, just as you heard the jingle of the elevator stopping on your floor. You started to walk straight to the stairs, because it wasn't too far from your flat to the reception, but a sharp intake of breath stopped you.

You looked up as he mumbled your name, “Y/N.”

“Bucky.”

The explosion of emotions in your chest was indescribable, and your heart was beating so unabashedly fast you could hear it behind your ears. The nervous feeling you'd wanted to get rid of since that afternoon you'd talked to him had returned, as if you'd never practiced breathing exercises to avoid looking as panting and shocked as you did that time. All to avoid him noticing how much his presence around you affected you, how easily he altered your senses and how your body reacted unconsciously to his actions and his looks.

“Hi,” you said faintly as he stepped out of the lift and stopped in front of you with an indecipherable expression. Sometimes you wish you knew what was going on in his head, or you wished you were confident enough that he would decide to tell you that sort of thing once in a while.

“Hello,” he replied, totally oblivious to the revolution going on inside you, just because he was there, in the building you lived in. What was he doing there? And it couldn't be a mistake, he knew you lived there, “Are you on your way out?” he asked, pointing at you with the nonchalant gesture he always had, as if he was made of stone and nothing ever affected him.

You hesitated a bit before answering, “Yeah, I'm just going to get something. The guys are preparing a buffet for tonight.”

You didn't know how you managed to make your voice come out nonchalant and unconcerned, at least enough so that Bucky didn't notice the unease coursing through your body. He nodded, half-smiling a tight-lipped smile.

“Fury told me the mission was excellent. Besides the documents, did you and Steve find anything interesting to talk about?”

You sketch a smile freely, almost mimicking his amused gesture, feeling your shoulders loosen for a few seconds and a calmness dominate your mind, “Actually yes, we talked a lot about... uhm.... the weather, and the dust...”

Bucky let out a laugh, letting go of that part of him that was extremely self-conscious when there were too many people around him. His eyes narrowed in the most beautiful way, standing out with a twinkle you couldn't quite put a name to, and the corners of his lips forming your favourite curve of his face. As he watched you, you had the fleeting feeling that his eyes were telling you a million things, treasuring that moment just as you were doing. But just as quickly as that thought came, just as quickly it vanished. And, again, Bucky tensed his shoulders.

“Don't think about it too much, it's not personal. Steve has a hard time sometimes finding the words to talk to the person he likes.”

You didn't know why Bucky was so restrained if there was no... wait, what the fuck?

“What?” you exclaimed, surely with your eyes bulging and your brow furrowed. Your body tensed as you watched the gaze of the man in front of you turn wary and confused.

“What about what? Didn't he tell you?”

“Tell me-? Bucky, what are you talking about?”

“Well, Steve likes you. Probably from the moment he met you.”

You felt a ringing in your ears and the world reel for a few moments. You looked at Bucky's face without really watching, your mind miles away, at the little moments you'd shared with Steve, at the talks about movies, in the kitchen preparing anything, his attitudes on missions... his question when you were returning from your last mission.

But could he really have meant the same thing?

And why the hell wouldn't he mean the same thing?

Holy shit.

“I'm sorry, I thought he told you. But I didn't have time to ask him because I haven't seen him since you got back from the mission. It's like... he's avoiding me,” he added the last with his face contorted in confusion and disbelief, as if that was something impossible to believe, or as if Steve could never do something like that.

“No, well...” you interrupted yourself, your body jerking in unease as you stared anywhere that was Bucky's face, not really knowing what words wanted to come out of your mouth, “Steve didn't- he didn't tell me anything.”

Bucky let out a sigh, his body shifting slightly as he slipped one of his hands into one of his pockets.

“I should have known better,” he muttered, and now he was the one avoiding your gaze.

With your shoulders tense and your expression surely frizzled, your mind began to create a lot of conjectures that, if you said them out loud, you were sure would make no sense at all.

But Bucky, he was there, why else would he be there, in the building you live in?

“How long have you known?”

Bucky raised his gaze to meet yours. His eyes inspected yours for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, as if he wanted to discover something just by watching them, until he finally sighed before saying, “Not long ago, actually. Though I've had my suspicions for some time, he confirmed it himself a couple of weeks ago.”

Your brow furrowed.

“Is that why you walked away?”

“What?”

“Is that why you walked away from me, Bucky?” you repeated, grief searing your chest as the seconds ticked by without his response. A flame of hope flared in your chest, even though you had a feeling this wasn't going to end well, you refused to extinguish it, waiting, impatiently really, and scared, for the stupefied man in front of you to respond.

Bucky stirred, his chest rising and falling a little faster than normal, and his gaze dropped to various points in the hallway only to avoid looking at you as he replied, hesitantly, “No, I- I didn't walk away.”

Filled with sudden courage, you reproached him, “Don't deny it, Barnes. Coincidentally when I was at the Complex you were disappearing, even these last few days. Before perhaps I could say that our schedules crossed, but now?”

“Not now-” he hesitated, and your chest puffed out with anticipation. You knew it wasn't good but you couldn't stop now. You thought if you pushed him to the limit maybe he could say it, and you knew that wasn't the way, much less with him, but what he'd said had changed everything, and suddenly you found yourself with the wild need to hear something from him, something good, that would confirm everything you were thinking. But, “It's all the same Y/N, nothing has changed.”

You frowned at him, and clasping your hands together you ignored the pang of pain that spread through your chest, “Except everything changed, Bucky. You've been different when we're not alone. It's- it's impossible not to notice.

Bucky shook his head, his head shaking frantically, and for a moment you thought he was trying to convince not only you, but himself as well, “I have no reason to change just because I knew Steve liked you. Or are you assuming that knowing that bothers me?”

His suddenly defensive and haughty attitude, even though you knew it was one of his possible reactions, stunned you for a few seconds. You stared directly into his once soft, now hardened eyes, just to reassure yourself that he was there and wasn't going anywhere, even though you knew the illusion wasn't going to do any good. The fear that coursed through your veins you hadn't felt in quite some time, and the disastrous anticipation clouded your reason as his brow furrowed and he tilted his head as if he had just come to a conclusion.

“You think I like you, Y/N? And that knowing Steve likes you would make things a little different?”

Your lips parted, and suddenly you felt your mouth go dry. Bucky's blank expression as he said that pierced your chest like a dagger, his indifferent eyes fixed on yours, showing you your own agonised reflection from the bottom. You felt as if you had just fallen into a bottomless pit of sadness.

“I- no- I didn't mean it that way...”

“It doesn't bother me how Steve feels about you, Y/N,” he interrupted you in your poor attempt to pick up the central point of the conversation, and you felt like at any moment you might fall uselessly to the ground surrounded in your own tears and ache, “and it certainly hasn't changed anything either. I'm still me, we're still the same. If I want to get on with my life now or focus on aspects I hadn't thought about before, does that make me the bad guy?”

“No, Bucky, that wasn't what-”

He interrupted you again, “Then what's the problem?”

The hardness of his expression broke your heart, and you were sure he could tell the tears that had welled up in your eyes because seconds after he spoke, you couldn't see him clearly. His figure was a blur, an ambiguous interpretation of how little you felt you knew him at that moment.

It was already impossible for him not to know. That he didn't know how much you liked him, or how much you longed for him to let you love him without restraint. Situations that were only going to live in your head now, like a bad memory of a lousy moment that shook your world to its foundations.

“If you think something has changed, then the problem is with you. Because I don't feel that anything has changed. Not with Steve and not between us.”

You didn't answer him. You let a couple of tears roll down your face, witnessed by his impassive, apathetic expression, which didn't even flinch at the flood of feeling running down your face. He just stood there, watching, as you choked on your own breath.

“We're still friends, aren't we? I don't see why that has to change.”

With your hope shattered and your heart in your hand, you tried to say, “Maybe.... Maybe about that- about that, Bucky, I don't feel the same way-”

But the loud sound of a door creaking open stopped your feeble babbling. You didn't even feel the strength to try, as if his harshness had ruthlessly consumed all your resilience.

“Bucky,” you heard a female voice, and you didn't have to turn around to recognise it.

You watched Bucky's lips curl into a small smile, “Hey.”

You turned around to look at her, though you were fully aware you knew who she was, you felt the masochistic need to confirm it. But seeing her there, standing in front of her closed door, right next to the door to your flat, didn't do anything for you or confirm anything other than worsen the pain of the lump in your throat you were trying to conceal, because you'd already shown him too much and you couldn't give him any more if he was just going to toss it aside like a crumpled leaf that was no longer useful.

“Fine,” you said to Bucky, turning to the front once more. He scowled at you, but with a cautious, softened gesture, forgetting for a moment the defensive attitude he had adopted, “Then nothing has changed, and nothing's going to change.”

Bucky half-opened his lips, his face suddenly contracting in compunction, or so you seemed to have noticed. But no, he had said all that so sure of himself, so confident of his words, that it was impossible that he was now regretting it. And yet, if that were the case, you didn't want to hear it. Not now, not later, not ever, preferably. You'd heard enough.

“Good luck on your date, Bucky.”

And you continued on your way to the stairs, barely grazing his shoulder as you passed him. The lump in your throat was unbearable, and the burning in your eyes from the tears that wanted to come out to freely express your pain was insufferable. With every breath, your chest constricted painfully, and for a moment, as you descended the stairs, you felt that you would not be able to bear it; that you could not cope.

And that frightened you. To know the gravity of the power you had given Bucky over you, over your feelings.

But you couldn't do anything more than get over it. Whatever it took, but you had to let it go and put it behind you.

confessed feelings (3)

summary: Bucky finally confronts his thoughts and makes a decision.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

words: +3.5k (this is the longest i have ever written!)

warnings: some bad words? i think there are no warnings this time. i just want to say that this is more from Bucky's pov, all his considerations, and at the very end the reader appears. i really don't know if that's a bit tedious, or if this is what you were expecting, but i still hope you enjoy it!

note: thank you so much for all the support, it has been overwhelming in the best possible way! literally your words inspired me and I was surprised to write this third and last part so quickly, so here it is!

Part 1

Part 2

Bucky Barnes was sure of three things:

1. That he wasn't good with words.

Bucky was a disaster at finding the right words, and in any situation or at any time, not for any specific thing. His passive-aggressive attitude was the product of a myriad of bad memories and experiences that, little by little, dulled the light in his eyes. The man he was in the 40s definitely no longer existed, he had died the day he had fallen off that train. The man he was now was nothing more than a vague and poor attempt to recover what he used to be, but without finding the right path and making mistakes at every step.

And that wasn't wrong. I mean, it's human to make mistakes, he used to repeat himself; but as time went on he found it a better escape to withdraw into himself rather than take the time to give voice to his thoughts and engage in a lot of emotions that, after so many years, felt strange and not worthy of his time.

After spending years carrying around guilt, remorse and helplessness, Bucky had given up on trying to find a way to communicate in any other way than by staring at people, mostly with a frown on his face. He found it better for people to believe that he was angry, or that he was bitter, simply so he wouldn't have to deal with small talk about feelings and things that made him vulnerable and, consequently, an easy target.

2. He was also not very good at expressing his feelings.

That was obvious, it went along with the first point. If Bucky avoided everyday talk even with most of his peers, he would avoid talk about his feelings even more. For him, it was like trying to swim in the desert trying to reach an oasis; a constant feeling of suffocation and hopelessness. Talking about his feelings was touching an unfamiliar wasteland; it had been so long since the last time that he didn't even know how to handle it effectively. And he used to be a Don Juan, who knew?

If he wanted to make a simpler analogy, Bucky was pretty good with guns, pistols and rifles, even knives and switchblades, but swords? That kind of extremely big, loud and much shinier knife? No, too ostentatious and pompous for his taste, as well as being too indiscreet. If there was something he didn't like doing, or didn't like talking about, why would he waste his time trying? If Bucky didn't know how to use a sword, even though it would surely be as simple as a knife considering the skills he possessed, knew and was familiar with, then why should he feel obligated to do so? After all, it was his choice, wasn't it?

Or maybe he was simply avoiding it because he didn't want to realise how simple it was, just as he didn't want to know that he'd wasted so much time just because... he was afraid. Afraid of doing it wrong, afraid of failing, afraid of disappointing, afraid of losing control again because he didn't know how to handle himself.

But no, of course he didn't feel that way, that would be fucking crazy.

3. But he was particularly forthcoming when it came to you.

This... Well, this was a prime example of what happened when you gave Bucky a sword expecting him to walk across a desert without a drop of water. He was lost. He was doomed.

When Bucky didn't know something or didn't know where he was going, he hesitated, he fretted, he panicked, and most of the time he would rather run away than realise that the wasteland stretching out in front of him was really a green screen that his deepest fears had put in front of him to frighten him, to distract him, to keep him hidden.

But, really, there was nothing in front of him. Only the very fear he refused to accept.

And he knew that made him a coward. For God's sake, he could take on thirty men armed with a knife, but he couldn't tell the woman he liked that he'd be happy to take her out to dinner. But did that fact encourage him to take the risk? Absolutely not.

And Bucky hated himself for it. He hated the part of himself that refused to talk to you because it was terrified, and he hated even more having the ability and strength to face it.

“You told her what?” Sam's exclamation jolted him back to the stage he'd been on for a couple of minutes. His gaze refused to meet Sam's and instead focused on your figure, sitting in front of the kitchen counter talking animatedly to Steve while you ate your favourite cereal. And he knew he had no right, he knew he'd brought this on himself, but he couldn't help the burning in his chest every time you smiled at him the way you smiled at Bucky. It was fucking painful.

And was that enough of an impetus for him to finally speak to you honestly? No, absolutely not. Fucking coward.

“Bucky, have you lost your mind?”

The aforementioned let out a sigh, noticeably exasperated. He averted his gaze to begin counting the bubbles that were accumulating around the rim of the full glass of Coke he hadn't even tasted since Sam had put it in front of him.

Wilson, noticeably grumpy, pushed the soda out of his sight and planted his forearm on the table in front of them, leaning forward allowing Bucky to sense the irritability emanating from him. Honestly, Bucky didn't think Sam would take it seriously when he told him, just to get it off his chest, but the man had breathed in sharply with his eyes fixed on him, as if he could suddenly see and judge his every mistake.

So this is why, Bucky mentally told himself, I just shouldn't talk to anyone anymore.

“Look, man, I know you're older than me and I owe respect to my elders, but what the fuck was going through your head when you decided that doing that was a good idea?”

Barnes rolled his eyes, “It's not to make a fuss.”

“Oh, no, no. You're telling me that you like someone, but to really like her, for a relationship, and then you tell me that you dismissed her that way like she was a piece of old cardboard. And not only that, but that woman is Y/N!”

“I didn't dismissed her away like-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sam interrupted him, raising his index finger and wagging it from side to side in denial, “You have serious commitment and communication issues.”

“Can you hardly tell?”

Sam lowered his hand, leaning over his forearm to observe Bucky's hard, impassive expression.

“Why do you think it's wrong that you like her?”

“Steve likes her.”

“No, Steve liked her.”

“No, he likes her. What he said was to not make me feel bad, but I can read between the lines.”

“Then you have lousy reading comprehension, Bucky,” Sam shook his head, “Steve liked Y/N, past tense. He told you there was nothing wrong with you wanting to date her, why are you reneging and twisting his words?”

“I'm not reneging-”

“Bucky,” Sam exclaimed, shushing him, “The problem isn't with Steve or Y/N, you're the one who wants to believe that all this drama you put together is necessary. Why?”

I can't tell him, Bucky thought, he's going to judge me. He's definitely going to. And who wouldn't? I would if I were in his place. For a moment, it frightened him how easily his mind played with his stability, leading him to believe, as it always did, that the problem lay with the others. That the others didn't understand, that they would never be able to understand what he thought or felt. It didn't allow him to see how much simpler and more bearable things would be if Bucky talked about them, if he could communicate, in that way that so terrified him, with others.

“Why, Bucky?” Sam insisted, and a pique of unease ran through the aforementioned's body.

“Damn it, Sam, will you just drop the subject for the hell of it?” Bucky raised his voice, gripped by his emotions, but instantly regretting it.

“No,” Sam shot back in the same tone of voice, “It's not right that you're always thinking of yourself this way. It's not healthy, Bucky.”

“In what way?” he asked sarcastically, letting out a short, unfunny laugh.

“The way you make yourself believe that you don't deserve any good. That everything that happens to you, a product of your own actions, decisions and fears, is some kind of punishment for everything they made you do in the past. And now you'd rather believe that Steve lied to you, that he didn't tell you the truth when he told you that he was moving on from Y/N and dating someone else, all because you want to hold on to the idea that you don't deserve it. That you don't deserve her. But, in case you haven't noticed, you're not the only one you're hurting with those self-destructive thoughts.”

Bucky watched him with a frown, his face feigning an expressionlessness that tried to hide the terror he felt at the mere thought that it was so easy for Sam to dig through his actions to uncover his worst fears. He felt exposed, vulnerable, an easy target...

“Maybe I don't fully understand what you are going through with this transition, but what I do know is that you are not going to get anywhere by letting your fears take over. If you keep this up, there's going to be nothing left of you in the end. You have to come out, Bucky, you have to believe that you really deserve what you have now, what you can have,” he said, and pointed discreetly into the distance at you, where Natasha had joined the conversation.

Sam's eyes were fixed on his, with a determination and confidence that made him wonder - why was he really telling him all that? Did he really want to make him feel better, or was he just pretending because he really cared more about what you felt than what he was going through? The things he was saying... they weren't strange, but they weren't welcome in Bucky's mind. What was he saying? That his feelings were valid? That was something new.

He was probably free of HYDRA's control, free of the Winter Soldier, but he wasn't free of the fears and doubts, he wasn't free of his subconscious, which constantly found ways to make him believe that everything good in his life came at a cost. No one could be so happy in such a short time without paying a price for it. It was impossible.

Wasn't it?

“Dude, just... think about it, okay? I can realize it's hard for you to push guilt and fear away from your decisions, but you have to do it, Bucky. You have to start trying so you can start living again. Believe me, there are a lot of good things you are missing out on as you ponder whether you are worthy of the good things you feel. But you are, Bucky, you have to know that, you can't let doubt become your guide. You are more than that.”

Bucky knew how to spot a person's lies like a pro. The way they moved, how they breathed or if they were sweating, even the way the words came out of that person's mouth were leading clues to make him conclude that someone was lying to him. But Sam... Sam wasn't. His posture was tense, his gaze stern but determined, his breathing calm and slow, normal, his face free of layers of sweat.

Sam wasn't lying to him, he wasn't messing with his mind. No one was messing with his mind but himself, and that made him think that maybe, just maybe, Sam was right. It sounded crazy, his subconscious was denying the possibility through a tantrum, refusing to let him believe that what Sam was saying was actually true, and that little dilemma made him realise something:

“That sounds like a long way off.”

Sam sketched a half smile, resting one of his hands on Bucky's shoulder, “I know she'll understand. Or better, if you let her, she can come with you.”

---

Steve had spoken to Bucky days before you left with the blond on your first mission after four months. And he remembered it perfectly, as if it had been that very morning, as he weighed Sam's words and the reality of Steve's words. He had intercepted him at the gym, the place Bucky had designated as his personal therapeutic place, where he used to spend most of his days. He knew he wasn't going to find you there because at that moment you were with Natasha, both of you in the equipment room as you helped the spy prepare for her next mission.

Yep, Bucky was avoiding you and very blatantly not trying to hide it.

“Hey, Buck,” he recognized Steve's voice echoing through the gym.

“Steve,” Bucky greeted him back, barely turning to watch him nonchalantly enter the place.

“I hear you've been talking to Emily these days.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied nonchalantly, “She seems nice.”

“And what about Y/N?”

The pounding on the sandbag stopped abruptly as soon as Bucky heard your name leave Steve's lips. His brow furrowed and, coupled with the erratic rhythm his heartbeat had taken on, Bucky felt like this conversation wasn't going where he wanted it to.

“What about her?” he asked, suddenly defensive, and the blond didn't miss that.

Steve shrugged, cocking his lips, “I thought you'd try something with her.”

“I never said that,” he replied quickly with a frown, turning to look at his friend.

“Well, I assumed, after what we talked about last time.”

“You mean when you told me you liked her?”

“No, I mean when I told you that you didn't have to be self-conscious just because I told you I liked her before.”

Bucky didn't erase his gruff expression, but on the contrary, it intensified as he deciphered Steve's words that his subconscious knew, but hadn't allowed himself to parse the right way the first time.

“Whatever, Steve, she doesn't feel the same way,” the black-haired man turned his attention back to the bag, but didn't make a pretense of hitting it again. His mood had faded.

“You'll never know if that's true unless you ask her. What have you got to lose?”

“Time?”

“Please, Buck. I've seen you around her, she makes you feel good, comfortable.”

“She doesn't make me feel anything,” he exclaimed through his teeth, interrupting him, an angry flare flaring in his chest.

Steve sighed, finally deciphering his partner's reluctant attitude.

“You're scared of how you feel because she makes you think you really deserve it, aren't you?”

Bucky turned his face to look at him, but said nothing.

“She makes you feel like you deserve a chance. And now you don't believe it.”

Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, Steve easily noticing the dilemma inside him, but just as quickly as it came, just as quickly it went.

“She doesn't make me feel anything,” and he continued to pound the bag in front of him, harder and angrier than before, as if to make his decision clear.

Thinking about that conversation again made his stomach do a flip. It had taken him a long time to realise that his greatest fear was already a reality, that he had been wasting his time hiding behind a branch and being a bitter hothead because everyone already knew, everyone already knew him. The people around him knew more about him than he knew about himself, and even they knew that it scared him.

He hadn't even succeeded in trying to hide his fears from the world. All he had done was try to excuse his bad decisions behind them. Some soldier he was, huh.

Coming to that conclusion made him realise that you too were among that mass of people who knew him all too well. And now, two days after his conversation with Sam and sitting against the wall of the Quinjet returning to the Complex after a mission with you, Bucky still hadn't found the words to tell you all about the emotions that blossomed in his chest every time you were near him, or every time you smiled at him or told a joke that normally wasn't funny, but your sparkling eyes automatically brought a smile to his face that he didn't even bother to stop.

However, realising the truth did not mean that he was no longer afraid. On the contrary, he was terrified. Mainly because he knew you were going to be angry, and he didn't blame you, you had every reason to be. But he knew it would only make him more nervous and he wouldn't know how to handle his emotions in the environment. Now, time had run out for him. He could no longer postpone this talk with the excuse that he was still thinking. Besides, his fear was also justified in the future, in not knowing how to cope with a relationship, what commitment and trust were all about. Would he do it right? How did he know he wouldn't throw it all away the moment his insecurities took control of himself? Because of those doubts that wouldn't leave him alone, Bucky knew that the path he was taking now was one of vulnerability at its finest.

Your eyes, which at every turn tried to avoid his, had finally connected with his. Your expression was what it used to his, stoic and expressionless, and he definitely didn't like it. He already missed your smiling, animated gestures that contrasted too much with his, but in a beautiful way made him feel complete, even if he had spent days denying himself that just because he was scared.

“I...” he began, before you looked away again and they fell into another awkward silence, “I'm sorry. And I know you might not want to forgive me, and that's okay, I understand. I also know that you probably don't want to listen to me after- after what I told you, but I promise this will be the last you'll hear from me if you never want to see me again afterwards.”

You watched his clear eyes from a distance, his pupils slightly dilated that you could detail clearly thanks to your skills. He moved his thumbs over his clasped hands, in what you deduced was a nervous gesture you hadn't seen him make before, and you didn't know if it was because of that or the simple need to want to hear him, that you silently agreed without taking your eyes off him.

And Bucky understood, he was an expert at deciphering looks. Your looks.

“It took me a long time to realise that what everyone was saying was true,” he began, his gaze anchored on yours, “I've spent so much time locked inside myself with the memories, with the guilt, the remorse, the- the sadness, that now I feel like that's all I know. I can't acknowledge how you feel about me because I feel I don't deserve it, that's true. I can't accept that you love me even though you know what I did, that you know what I'm carrying on my shoulders, and that's something I'm going to have trouble getting rid of,” he watched your sad expression, “But I will, I know I can do it now.”

“And I'm going to apologise, probably forever, for trying to excuse myself behind lies just because I was scared. Steve was right, I'm terrified that you would make me feel like I deserve something good, just because I spent years believing I would live out a divine punishment for everything I did. I know better now, but... that doesn't make it any less scary.”

“My point is: I'll work on it. I mean, I want to. For you. For me. I want to accept what you give me openly and I want to have the ability to give you the same, and more, back. Because that's what relationships are all about, isn't it? Reciprocal affections. I know I'm going to make it, now I am... but I also know it's going to take some time, and I don't want to tie you down to the uncertainty of what may or may not happen in the future. However, it's your decision. But whatever you choose, I will always, forever, wait for you.”

Bucky watched you warily, his heart beating wildly and uncontrollably within his chest. At some point, he had leaned forward to get a better view of you, or simply to emphasize his words, so you could tell he really meant what was coming out of his mouth, and wasn't just getting the words out for the sake of it.

He noticed your flashing eyes, clouded in a couple of tears, and for a moment he paused to wonder if he had said something wrong. You didn't even answer him, and Bucky felt his body begin to sink into resignation.

You blinked a couple of times, trying to get a clear view of him, of his face and his expectant features. The hundred emotions coursing through your body at that moment left you in an ecstasy you couldn't describe, and you didn't really struggle to find what to say to him -you knew exactly what your answer was- you were simply stunned by the way he opened his heart and soul to you, knowing that he was entrusting you with something that, until moments ago, he treasured warily as his own and over which only he had power: his fragility, that vulnerable part of himself that he always hid from the world, exposed to you.

And you loved him. More than before, if that was possible.

You braced your hands to lift yourself off the ship's floor under his anxious gaze. You walked to close the space between you, and sat down again, this time, facing him. The way you looked at him made his world reel, wondering if he really had to go through so much to realise what he was missing; to realise that maybe he did deserve it.

Well, he had to erase that maybe, but he'd already said he was going to work on that, hadn't he?

“I can wait for you, Bucky. And I can walk you to the end of the world if you want me too.”

Bucky was the one who approached, knowing you were keeping your distance because you wanted to respect that he wanted to take his time. His hands, sheathed in his black leather gloves, cradled your face with a softness you could even feel through the rough material. A small smile took over his face, his eyes sparkling with the anticipation of a new possibility; a possibility in which he could be happy.

“Thank you,” he mused, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your hands wrapped around his wrists, holding him firmly but not too tightly, just to let him know that you were there, and that you were going to be there until he decided to walk away, if he did in the end.

His happy sigh brought a smile to your face, and the two of you stood together holding hands for the rest of the trip back to the Complex.

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the ones who asked to me to tag them: @ladyfallonavenger @wanniiieeee