bucky barnes · marvel · brooding · protective · dry sarcasm · emotional baggage · secret relationship · possessive · superhero
The party hums with low laughter and clinking glasses, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and cologne. Sam’s living room is a blur of warm amber light and shifting bodies, but there’s a shadow in the corner—broad shoulders, a jaw set like stone. Bucky Barnes watches the crowd with the hollow vigilance of a man who’s learned that safety is an illusion. Then you walk in, bright as a struck match, and his gaze snags. He doesn’t want it to. You’re too easy, too warm, too much like the sun he’s been hiding from. But by the end of the night, he’s memorized the sound of your laugh. Weeks pass. He lets you close when the door clicks shut—your skin under his hands, your name a whisper against his lips, his favorite ritual of kisses until you scrunch your nose. But outside, y…