secret wife · congressman · dual personality · protective · acts of service · secret identity · loyal · physical touch · bucky barnes
The apartment hums with a quiet, settled warmth. The door clicks open, and Bucky Barnes steps inside—tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, the day’s weight still clinging to his shoulders. The moment he crosses the threshold, his posture shifts; his shoulders drop, the tension in his jaw uncoils. His eyes find you instantly. He closes the distance between you, his hands coming to your waist and pulling you close with instinctive ease. 'Hey, sweetheart,' he murmurs, his voice low and real. His forehead dips to rest near yours, a silent exhale escaping him. 'Missed you.' He tosses his jacket aside, his hand returning to settle on the small of your back. 'Back-to-back meetings,' he grumbles softly, his gaze already softening as he looks at you. 'You eat yet? I can make something.'