Nexi On The Run

Bucky x reader

You made me hate you

Summary: Y/N has lost everything. Her only family. What happens when the man who had killed her sister is now a part of the avengers and they have to work together?

Series status: in progress

Last updated: 26.03.2025

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part 10

Bucky x reader

Warnings: swearing, a bit of fluff, nothing particular in this part

Summary: Y/N and Bucky got back to the compound and after some pretty INTENSE mission they can’t stand each other once again… or can they?

A/N: So sorry for the delay guys but my master degree won’t write itself (unfortunately). Hope you all enjoy this part! Also please let me know if I had tagged You properly 💃

Masterlist

The compound was quieter than usual when we arrived, but maybe that was just my perception. Everything felt muted, dulled by the thick fog of emotions I was trying desperately to suppress. The moment I stepped off the quinjet, I felt the weight of Bucky’s presence beside me like an anchor, dragging me down into a sea of confusion, guilt, and something else I couldn’t quite name.

Part 9

Bucky x reader

Warnings: smut (finally), NSFW, a lot of emotions, fighting, arguments, swearing

Summary: It is the day after the incident with Y/N. Bucky and Y/N got into another fight 😈

A/N: Wow my first ever written smut. I got to say it was really hard even though it’s not that long. I need to get better at describing sex scenes guys I know that 😎 also sory for the delay but school has started 😑but don’t you worry… we are barely in the middle of the story 🫡 enjoy!

Masterlist

The first thing I registered was pain. A dull, throbbing ache pressing against my skull, radiating down my spine. My limbs felt like lead, heavy and uncooperative as I stirred.

I inhaled sharply, the scent of antiseptic soap and crisp hotel linens filling my nose. The dim glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in golden light, casting long shadows across the walls. I blinked, my vision swimming as my mind struggled to orient itself.

Something was wrong.

Memories of last night flickered like a broken reel of film—fragments, disconnected and hazy. The ball. The mission. Sokolov. And then…nothing.

My fingers twitched against the sheets, a surge of unease creeping up my spine. My body felt foreign—sore in places that hadn’t been sore before. My knuckles stung, my muscles ached like I’d fought a battle I couldn’t remember.

A voice. Low, urgent, familiar.

I turned my head towards the sound, my breath catching as I saw Barnes standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. His back was rigid, shoulders squared, tension radiating from every inch of him.

“I don’t care what the fuck you thought would happen, Fury,” he growled, voice razor-sharp. “You didn’t tell me she was compromised.”

Compromised?

“What do you mean you didn’t know, how is that even-”

My stomach twisted. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, the movement sluggish and unsteady. Bucky’s free hand was clenched into a fist at his side, his jaw tight, eyes dark with something I couldn’t place.

“She attacked me,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more strained. “No hesitation. No recognition. The same fucking way I used to—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply.

The same way I used to…

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. My heart pounded against my ribs as the pieces slotted into place, slow and merciless. The scar behind my ear. Sokolov’s knowing smirk. The words—the words I didn’t even remember hearing.

And yet, I had obeyed them.

A cold, suffocating weight settled over me. My pulse roared in my ears. My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.

I had attacked Bucky. I had tried to kill him.

The realization left me reeling, a sharp, jagged wound in my chest. I forced myself to sit up fully, swallowing past the lump in my throat. My whole body trembled.

“Barnes,” I croaked, my voice hoarse.

He stiffened, slowly lowering the phone from his ear. I watched as he ended the call without another word, slipping the device into his pocket before turning to face me. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—

God, his eyes.

They were exhausted. Guarded. But underneath it all, there was something else. Something raw and painful and too damn familiar.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick, heavy with the weight of what had happened.

“What the hell happened last night?” I finally forced out. My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Bucky’s jaw ticked. “You don’t remember.”

It wasn’t a question.

I shook my head. “Not after Sokolov invited us to his private quarters.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “He knew who we were. Knew who you were.” His gaze flickered to me, something like regret flashing across his features. “He said something. A set of words. The same ones Hydra used on me.”

I went still, nausea rolling through me in sickening waves.

“And I—” My voice cracked. “I responded? How, I mean what… How the fuck is that even possible?! What did Fury said? Let me talk to him. I want to speak with him right now!”

I was in such shock, I didn’t know where to start. Call Nick? Hearing their conversation, he didn’t know much either. So what was I supposed to do then? What the fuck happened, and how did it come to this? What did NEXUS do to me?

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, studying me like I was a puzzle he wasn’t sure how to solve. “You were gone, Y/N. Your eyes were empty. No hesitation. No mercy. Just a mission.”

I flinched.

The room felt too small, the air too thin. I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, that I couldn’t have—

But I knew better.

The scars NEXUS had left behind were deep. Deeper than I ever allowed myself to admit. And now, it was undeniable.

I was just like him.

Bucky must have seen the horror on my face because his own expression softened—just barely. “I had to knock you out,” he said quietly. “It was the only way to stop you.”

I nodded numbly, unable to find my voice.

A part of me had always feared this. That no matter how far I ran, no matter how much I fought to be something else, something better—I was still their toy. I was a kid. I couldn’t do much more back then right? Or maybe I just don’t remember it.

I sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky murmured.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Isn’t it?” My voice wavered. “I spent so long thinking I’d escaped them. That Fury saved me. That I wasn’t like you.” I met his gaze, something breaking inside of me. “But I am, aren’t I?”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “Don’t,” he said sharply.

“Don’t what? Face the truth?” My voice rose, frustration bubbling up in my chest. “I tried to kill you, Barnes.” My throat tightened. “What if you hadn’t stopped me? What if—”

“You think I don’t get it?!” His voice cut through mine, rough with barely contained emotion. “You think I haven’t spent years asking myself the same fucking questions?”

I fell silent, staring at him.

His hands clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven. “I know what it’s like to wake up and realize you’ve done something you can’t take back. To look at your hands and wonder if they’ll ever be clean.” His voice dropped lower. “I know what it’s like to hate yourself for something you had no control over.”

A lump formed in my throat. I hated how much sense he made. How much I wanted to believe him. I hated how much I still tried to isolate myself from him. I hated how he saved me. I hated how at that moment I was the freak. The monster. I hated him for being right. And I hated him for how much his eyes were filled with concern about me.

I inhaled sharply, forcing the words out. “How do you live with it?”

Bucky’s gaze softened, his voice quieter this time. “One day at a time.”

Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to steady my breathing.

One day at a time.

I wasn’t sure if I could do that.

But for now, it was all I had.

Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face. When he finally met my gaze, there was hesitation in his eyes—like he wasn’t sure how to say what needed to be said.

“We’re heading back to the Tower.”

I blinked. “What?”

He exhaled, shifting his weight. “We’re done here, Y/N. Fury’s already arranging for an extraction. We leave in an hour.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended, my pulse kicking up. “We still have a mission. Sokolov—”

“—is already three steps ahead of us,” Bucky cut in. “Again in case you were not listening. He knew who we were. He knew who you were. That means this op is compromised. We’re compromised.”

I clenched my jaw, anger flaring in my chest. “So what? We just tuck tail and run?”

“We regroup,” he corrected, voice tight. “We get answers first.”

I shook my head, shoving the covers off and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My whole body ached, but I forced myself to my feet. “No. We don’t have time for that. We finish what we started.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ll kill them for this.”

The words left my lips with a venom I barely recognized. A deep, burning rage coiled in my chest, thick and suffocating. Sokolov had turned me into his puppet. He had cracked open something inside me that I had fought so hard to bury. And I wanted him dead for it.

Bucky stepped closer, shaking his head. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking just fine.”

“The hell you are!” His voice rose, raw with frustration. “You were just fucking brainwashed, Y/L/N! You really think you’re ready to walk back into the lion’s den?”

“I don’t have a choice!” I shot back. “They did something to me. They still have a hold on me. And no one even knew this. Not even Fury. And I am not going to sit around and wait for it to happen again.”

“So what, you think killing them is gonna fix it?”

“Yes!” The word burst from me like a gunshot, my breath coming fast and shallow. “Because if I don’t end this now, they’ll keep coming back. They’ll keep proving that I’m not in control of my own fucking life and that they can take everything away from me again.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. “You are in control.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I attacked you.”

“And I stopped you.” His voice dropped lower, but it was no less intense. “Because I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it feels like. That urge to burn it all down, to erase every trace of what they did to you.”

I swallowed, my throat tight.

“But listen to me,” he continued, stepping even closer. “Killing them? It won’t make it go away. It won’t erase what happened. And it sure as hell won’t fix you.”

I hated how much I wanted to believe him. I hated how his words cut through the haze of anger, piercing something deeper inside me. Something raw and broken.

I clenched my fists. “I don’t need to be fucking fixed!”

Bucky’s eyes softened, just barely. “I know.”

The silence between us was thick, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. My pulse pounded in my ears. I hated this. I hated feeling weak. I hated that he was right.

And I hated him for knowing exactly what I was going through. Especially him. But now I wasn’t so sure that it was him who caused me the most pain.

Anger and frustration warred inside me, twisting into something ugly and desperate. My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed his collar, yanking him closer.

His hands immediately went to my wrists, not pushing me away, just holding me there. His breath was warm against my skin, his scent familiar, grounding. His gaze burned into mine, searching, waiting.

Something snapped.

I surged forward, crashing my lips against his.

Bucky froze for half a second—just long enough for me to question everything—before he kissed me back just as hard. His hands moved to my waist, gripping tight, like he needed this just as much as I did. Like we were both drowning, desperate for something real to hold onto.

The kiss was a battlefield. A war of anger and desperation, frustration and need. Teeth clashed, tongues fought for dominance. It was messy, raw, unrelenting.

I hated him.

I needed him.

I gasped against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled me closer, impossibly close. His grip on me was firm, grounding, keeping me from spiraling into the dark abyss clawing at the edges of my mind.

When we finally broke apart, our breaths were ragged, our foreheads pressed together. My chest heaved, my body burning. Bucky swallowed hard, his hands still on me.

Neither of us knew what to say. The terror in his eyes was even greater than in mine. He leaned slightly toward me, searching for approval. And he found it.

Our lips met again. This time, the kiss was even more intense.

The tension between us was suffocating. It has been for months, a constant push and pull, venom-laced words thrown like knives, glares sharp enough to cut. I fucking despise him—his arrogance, his brooding silence, the way he looks at me like I’m nothing but a thorn in his side.

But then? Bucky Barnes was pressed against me, his breath ragged, his body taut with something that feels dangerously close to surrender.

“Tell me to stop,” he growls, his voice like gravel, rough and unsteady. His metal fingers dig into my waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. Like he’s afraid I might slip away before he can make sense of this madness between us.

But I didn’t tell him to stop.

Instead, I gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down, crashing my mouth against his once more. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s war.

He groaned into the kiss, and I swallowed the sound, biting down on his bottom lip just to hear him hiss. His hands moved—one gripping the back of my neck, tilting my head just the way he wanted, the other pressing flat against my lower back, shoving my flush against him. Every inch of him is solid heat, coiled tension, and I hated that it made my stomach tighten with something dangerously close to need.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against my lips, his mouth trailing down my jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Always running your mouth, always getting under my skin—”

I shoved him back, just enough to look into his stormy blue eyes, both of us panting. “Right back at you, Barnes.”

Something flashed in his gaze—a challenge, a promise—before he surged forward, capturing my lips again. It’s even hungrier this time, rougher, like he’s trying to consume every angry word, every insult I have ever thrown at him. His hands roam, fingers gripping, tugging, pulling, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ruin or worship me.

My hands weren’t idle either. I fisted his hair, yanking his head back just enough to scrape my teeth against the strong line of his jaw, relishing in the way he shudders. His control is slipping, and fuck, I love watching him come undone.

Bucky let out a dark chuckle, his fingers tightening on my neck, his thigh slipping between mine as he shoved me back against the wall. His voice is low, dangerous, dripping with something possessive. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You’ve been looking at me like you wanted to tear me apart since day one.”

I shivered, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “Then do it.”

And so I did—dragging him back to me, bruising kisses and desperate touches, both of us losing ourselves in this battle where neither of us wins, but neither of us wants to stop fighting.

I wanted to take control. I tried—unsuccessfully—to pin him against the wall. Barnes only chuckled before gripping my thighs and lifting me effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing. I kept forgetting just how far I still had to go to reach Winter Soldier’s level. Fuck him.

He threw me onto the bed and, in one swift motion, pulled his shirt over his head. Fuck. His broad shoulders and chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. The way his scars merged into the metal of his arm fascinated me. But before I could think about it for longer, Barnes was already on top of me.

His right hand moved slowly—first over my breasts, then down my stomach, my thighs. And finally, he slipped his fingers beneath my panties. I gasped, pleasure shooting through me. Before any other sound could escape my lips, he crushed his mouth against mine again.

His fingers moved faster, rubbing me just right. Fuck, it felt good. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, as if he had known me—known my body—forever. I needed him. Right now. Nothing else mattered. No thoughts, no emotions, only desire.

As if he could read my mind, I felt his body shift. And then—I felt him. His thick, throbbing cock stretching me open.

"Oh my god," I cried out. My eyes rolled back, head pressing harder against the edge of the bed. My nails dug into his back as I pulled him closer.

I hated him. I wanted him.

We moved together like we had done this a thousand times before. Somehow, he knew exactly what I needed, exactly how to push me further. God knows how the fuck he knew that. He started fucking me harder, his gaze dark with raw, animalistic hunger. I felt his hands everywhere—in my hair, around my throat, gripping my thighs. And I wasn’t any better. I didn’t know where to hold onto him, didn’t know what to grasp. We just wanted more. More with every passing second.

It was raw, heated, and fucking messy. But it was amazing.

His breath grew heavier, his thrusts deeper, rougher. And with one final push, a deep groan tore from his throat as he came inside me.

For a moment, we just lay there in silence, the only sound in the room was our ragged breathing.

What the fuck did we just do? What the hell just happened? Could I not go a single day without making a mess of things?

Neither of us spoke. How could we? What the hell were we even supposed to say? Had we just gone from enemies to fuck buddies? No way.

Then, my phone rang.

Fury.

God, I hope he didn’t put any cameras in here for the mission.

"Agent Y/LN, everything is arranged. You can return now—I’ll explain everything when you get back."

I put the phone down, barely managing to wrap a blanket around myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barnes was already dressed, his gaze fixed on the floor, his expression unreadable.

"Let’s get back," I said coldly.

Part 8

Bucky x reader

Warnings: physical fights, swearing, fighting, general angst

Summary: Y/N’s past is catching on

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this part so let me know what you think. If you want to be on my taglist to this story, write me a message or just leave a comment🧚🏻‍♀️

Masterlist

The first night passed in tense silence. Bucky lay on the floor, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The polished marble was unforgiving, but he refused to share the bed (as did I) —pride was colder than the floor beneath him. Across the room, I shifted restlessly under the pristine white sheets - both too stubborn to speak, too haunted to sleep.

Occasionally, the rustle of fabric broke the quiet as me or him turned, chasing sleep that never came. We were trapped in memories, anger simmering beneath exhaustion. The weight of unspoken truths pressed down on us like the too-thick hotel air.

"You still awake?" I muttered into the darkness, voice strained. I don’t know where that question came from.

"What do you think?" Bucky shot back without moving.

Silence stretched once more, taut and unforgiving. Neither of us dared acknowledge the real reason for our insomnia—shared grief, tangled with resentment. The clock ticked on.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning came too quickly, the soft glow of dawn spilling through the curtains. We were already up when the alarm blared, shadows under our eyes and tension stiffening every movement.

The mission briefing replayed in their heads as they dressed in uncomfortable silence. Undercover. Married couple. Business deal. NEXUS contacts - simple in theory, a minefield in practice.

By the time we reached the bustling market district—a known hub for NEXUS affiliates—they looked the part. I wore an elegant yet simple dress, something sleek enough to scream wealth without drawing unnecessary attention. Bucky, reluctantly, had swapped his usual tactical gear for tailored slacks and a crisp shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, his metal arm concealed beneath a synthetic skin cover.

“Hold my hand,” I muttered as we exited the car, dread pooling in my stomach.

Bucky hesitated, then clasped my hand—warm, solid, unfamiliar. “Let’s just get this done.”

We moved through the market like shadows, smiles plastered on our faces, every touch calculated. To the outside world, we were the Thompsons—new money, ambitious, and eager to strike a deal with some rich assholes.

It didn’t take long for NEXUS eyes to find us. A man in a charcoal suit, sharp-eyed and lean, approached as we pretended to browse handcrafted jewelry.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” he said smoothly. “I hear you’re looking for exclusive merchandise.” So they have been watching us after all. Nicely done, I thought to myself.

Bucky smiled—a rare, cold expression. “We don’t waste time chasing rumors. Show us you’ve got something worth buying.”

The man’s gaze flicked between us both, calculating. I leaned into Bucky’s side, feigning affection while my heart hammered. Let this thing be over as soon as possible.

“Follow me,” the man finally said, turning on his heel.

Hand in hand, me and Barnes followed him into the labyrinthine heart of the market—the mission is truly beginning, with trust stretched thinner than ever.

The man in the charcoal suit led them through the bustling market, weaving between stalls laden with silk scarves, intricate glasswork, and the fragrant smoke of sizzling street food. Every step deeper into the labyrinth heightened my awareness—eyes watching from shaded corners, whispered conversations halting as they passed.

Bucky squeezed my hand briefly - the only sign he was just as on edge. Our fake smiles never faltered.

Finally, the man stopped outside a narrow, unmarked door tucked between a spice vendor and a shop selling antique rugs. He rapped twice, waited, then rapped three more times. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room. A single table sat in the center, flanked by two guards whose bulk barely fit in the space.

“Sit,” the man instructed, gesturing to the table.

Bucky pulled out a chair for me, the perfect picture of a doting husband. I sat gracefully, though every muscle was coiled tight. He followed, posture relaxed but eyes sharp.

“Talk fast,” Bucky said coolly. “We’re busy people.”

The man chuckled, pulling a sleek tablet from his jacket. With a few swipes, an image flickered to life on the screen—a cylindrical device, unassuming save for the faint red glow along its seams.

“The Whisper,” the man said, voice laced with pride. “Looks like nothing. Acts like the end of the world. One device, one city gone. Silent. Clean. No radiation, no trace.”

My blood ran cold.

“Demonstrations?” Bucky asked, his tone flat, but I knew him well enough (unfortunately) to catch the tightness in his jaw.

The man smiled, teeth flashing like a shark’s. “Not here of course. But our employer will be at the Ball tomorrow night. Impress him, and maybe you’ll get a private viewing.”

I leaned forward, playing the part. “We’re not here to dance. We’re here to buy.”

“Then you’ll want to put on your best shoes,” the man shot back, standing. “We don’t sell to just anyone.”

We finally got some sleep this time. After the market we haven’t spoken to each other. Not one word. I guess it was for the best. Both of us focused more than ever.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stood in front of the hotel room mirror, adjusting the emerald green gown that hugged my form like it had been stitched onto my skin. The satin pooled at my feet, the high slit revealing toned legs honed by years of training. The deep neckline was daring but tasteful, every inch of the dress screaming money, confidence, control. But inside, my stomach twisted into knots.

I hated this. Hated the pretense, the lies, the way the mission forced me to slip into an old skin I thought I'd shed years ago. The girl who could smile while planning a kill, who could flirt while counting exits. The girl I swore I'd never be again. I resigned from these kinds of missions for a reason. I just wanted something simple. Something calm. I hated this. I hated Nick for doing this to me.

Behind me, Bucky adjusted his tie, watching me through the mirror. Though I pretended like I hadn't noticed that. The black suit was sharp, perfectly tailored, but it wasn’t the clothes that caught me off guard. It was the way he looked at me—like he was seeing something he didn’t want to acknowledge?

"You clean up nice," he muttered, voice gruff.

I met his gaze in the glass, forcing an awkward smile that didn’t even reach my eyes. "Don’t get used to it."

The words were sharp, but the air between them crackled with something else—resentment, history, and the aching weight of things left unsaid. He looked away first, grabbing his jacket with a frustrated sigh - “Let’s get this over with.”

The ride to the venue was silent, the hum of the car engine - the only sound between us. I stared out the window, watching the glittering city blur past. It felt surreal—like I was floating outside myself, watching someone else step into the role of a woman who had everything except peace.

“Last chance to back out,” Bucky muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

She snorted, shaking her head. “Not my style. Besides, I’d hate to leave you alone with all these charming criminals.”

Bucky didn’t smile. He never did when the stakes were this high.

The ballroom was a glittering sea of gowns and tuxedos, laughter and champagne masking the undercurrent of power plays and whispered threats. Couples twirled across the marble dance floor, their movements practiced and polished. Live strings played a sultry melody, the kind designed to lull people into false comfort. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across marble floors and the air hummed with whispered deals. They knew how to cloak business in elegance, and tonight, power moved in silk gloves and diamond necklaces.3

My heels clicked softly as they crossed the threshold, Bucky’s hand firm on my back. To the world, we were power and beauty incarnate—ambitious, rich, untouchable. But I could feel the tension radiating off Bucky, I could see the slight tick in his jaw every time someone glanced our way.

“We’re being watched, again…” I murmured, tilting my head as if I was admiring the chandelier.

Bucky’s lips barely moved. “Good. Let’s give them something to see.”

He didn’t wait for my consent, for my anything—just took my hand and led me to the dance floor as the band shifted into a slower waltz. The moment his arm slid around my waist, I stiffened.

“You’re tense,” Bucky muttered, guiding her into the first turn.

“Maybe it’s because I’d rather dance with literally anyone else.”

“Funny. You’re still holding on tight.”

Our eyes met—blue clashing with mine. For a moment, the hate softened, replaced by something rawer, older, harder to define. There was history there, tangled and bruised, too complicated to unravel in a single dance. Then the music swelled, and the moment shattered.

"Eyes on the prize," I reminded, forcing a smile as I leaned into him, the picture of devotion. "Our buyer's watching." - “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” - a smooth voice, with a hard russian accent interrupted as the song ended. A tall,slightly older man with silver hair and eyes like cut glass stood at the edge of the floor. “My name is Peter Sokolov.” - I stiffened, I knew this name from somewhere, could it be…- “Please join me in my private quarter. I heard that you were here about something very specific. Something close to my heart. Let’s talk business.” He pointed out the path leading to the massive steel doors. The whole time, Bucky held me firmly by the waist, guiding me just a few centimeters ahead of him. Behind us, we could both hear the deep, heavy breathing of Sokolov. That name. In that moment, it hit me. One of the last names on my list. One of the last people I swore to get revenge on—for everything they did to me. To us. I couldn’t let it show that I recognized this man. The mission was still ongoing, and I had to give it my absolute best.

After a moment, we finally reached a large room, covered entirely in expensive wood and marble. The alcohol scattered on the table was probably worth more than the entire ballroom. Fucking criminals.

“Please, have a seat.”

It was just the three of us in the room. Probably even his crew didn’t know exactly what was being traded here or what they were guarding. Everything was top secret—each person knew less than the next. But this time, we were speaking to the boss. The fucking king of this whole shit-show.

The plan was simple. Make the deal, gain access to the destructive machine, secure it, and blow this entire joyride to hell—including the “President’s” head.

“I assume I’ll finally be discussing the details with you?” Bucky asked firmly, sitting down.

I decided to play the role of the uninterested wife, strolling around the room and admiring the old books arranged on the wooden shelves.

Sokolov sat down across from Barnes, occasionally glancing in my direction. I could feel his disgusting gaze on me. I wanted to kill him right there and then. My rage was growing stronger, but I knew I couldn’t compromise the mission. Not now. Not when we were so close.

They talked for what felt like an eternity—price, location, access key, and all the other bullshit details Barnes was undoubtedly better prepared for than I was. His composure amazed me. I’d never seen him this professional.

“Why don’t you join us?” I finally heard from behind me.

“Ah, yes, excuse me. This collection is truly fascinating,” I said, finally sitting down with them at the table.

“So, you like reading, darling, huh?” His slick smile disgusted me even more.

“Yes, definitely,” I replied. “I’ve got a similar collection at our house, don’t I, honey?” I turned my head to Barnes.

Suddenly, Sokolov’s smile faded. He sat up straight. Something was wrong. For a moment, I thought I’d said something out of line, but then he focused his attention on Bucky.

Fuck. My scar. Behind my ear. They did something to me while injecting that fucking serum. Back when I was a kid. I barely remembered that scar. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

But then, he only looked at Bucky and smiled. And that’s when I heard it. Those words. Those fucking words. I knew them. I knew I knew them, but I didn’t know they had anything to do with me.

BUCKY’S POV

“I see…” Sokolov said. “You played your part well, but you forgot one tiny detail. NEXUS never forgets its projects.”

He stared straight into my eyes—so intensely I thought I was about to get punched in the face or that fifty guys would suddenly jump out of the closet.

But he just kept talking. The words poured out of his mouth like a twisted poem.

“Желание (longing).”

There is no fucking way, I thought. But he kept going:

“Ржавый (rusted).

Семнадцать (seventeen).

Рассвет (daybreak).

Печь (furnace).

Девять (nine).

Добросердечный (benign).

Возвращение на родину (homecoming).

Один (one).

Товарный вагон (freight car).”

I don’t know why I waited until he finished. I was—how do kids say it now?—too stunned to speak. No time for jokes. No fucking time for thinking. He knew who we were.

“You need to do your research more carefully, old man. Those fucking words don’t work on me anymore.” Like I said—no time for thinking. I punched him immediately.

I shed my second skin, and my vibranium arm was already exposed. I hit him with such force that I was sure he’d die right there, but I couldn’t compromise the mission. I had to stay focused. The mission was everything. Until it wasn’t.

I grabbed Sokolov by the collar, but he just smiled. His laughter grew louder and more maniacal, ringing in my ears like a ticking bomb.

“You need to do your research more carefully, old man,” he hissed back, mocking my words.

“These weren’t meant for you,” he added, glancing quickly over my shoulder.

“Kill him, soldier.”

“What the fuck are you eve—” I didn’t even finish. I felt a powerful blow straight to my cheekbone. I was sure fifty men had magically appeared. But what I saw was far worse.

Y/N. Her eyes—lifeless. Her face—expressionless. No emotion.

“Y/N… what are you…”

Another punch. Fuck. She was strong. She was fucking trying to kill me. I tried to scream at her, but I knew exactly what state she was in. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified. I couldn’t hurt her. For fuck’s sake, we were on this mission together. But how was this possible? The same words. The exact same words that had once controlled me. Were they working together? So many questions, so few answers. Fuck. Again. No time for thinking.

I had to pull her out of this state somehow.

“Agent Y/L/N! Listen to me—you’re not yourself! Try to remember who you are!”

Pointless.

Y/N lunged first, quick and precise, aiming a punch at my ribcage. I deflected it with my vibranium arm, the impact echoing like a gunshot. Without missing a beat, I countered with a hook, forcing Y/N to duck and sweep my legs. I stumbled but didn’t fall, twisting mid-motion to grab her collar and slam her against the wall.

“Please, don’t make me hurt you.”

With a sharp knee to my stomach, Y/N broke free, spinning into a roundhouse kick that caught my jaw. I staggered back, wiping blood from the corner of my mouth. The glint in my eye shifted from warning to determination. We clashed again—a blur of fists, kicks, and raw strength. Sure, my training made me precise and powerful. But Y/N’s agility and unpredictability kept her one step ahead. The room bore the brunt of our battle—chairs overturned, glass shattered, walls dented by missed strikes. Finally, I caught her wrist mid-punch, twisting her arm behind her back and pinning her to the floor.

We were both breathing hard, sweat and bruises blooming like battle scars.

I knew I had to put her out. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But she started slipping from my grip. With one harder blow to her head, Y/N collapsed, unconscious. Fuck.

What the hell just happened?

Sokolov.

Part 7

Bucky x reader

Warnings: all the same: angst, swearing, fighting and arguing, a lot of it in this part!

Summary: First mission together, yay🥲 And one bed?!? Who would have thought 🙋🏼‍♀️

A/N: so this part is a bit longer than usual but I wanted to make them finally be alone for a bit 😊😊 (not sure if that’s a good thing for them - yet😈) enjoy!

Masterlist

The walk to the conference room was slower than usual, each step weighed down by the dread pooling in my stomach. Sam, of course, was still smirking like he knew something I didn’t.

“Cheer up,” he said as we rounded the corner. “Maybe Fury just wants to give you both medals for not murdering each other this week.”

“Or maybe he wants me to murder you instead,” I shot back, forcing a grin I didn’t feel. My heart raced in my chest, an unease that had been building ever since I left Barnes' room that night. Something was coming. I could feel it.

The door to the conference room slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the familiar sight of Steve, Natasha, Tony and Barnes already seated at the table. My eyes flicked toward Barnes automatically. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. Tension clung to him like a second skin.

I dropped into the chair as far from him as possible, not missing the way his shoulders tensed when he realized I was there. Steve glanced between us with an expression that hovered somewhere between concern and resignation.

Before the silence could stretch further, Fury entered the room, his long coat billowing slightly as he walked. The air shifted immediately—the man carried gravity with him.

“Good. You’re all here,” he said, coming to a stop at the head of the table. His single eye swept over each of us, lingering just a fraction too long on me and Barnes.

Shit.

“We’ve got a situation,” Fury began, tapping the tablet he placed on the table. The screen lit up with grainy surveillance footage of a warehouse. Shadows flickered in the corners.

“This location was flagged two nights ago,” Fury continued. “Intel suggests remnants of NEXUS are regrouping. This isn’t just some wannabe faction. They’ve got resources, tech, and a list of targets longer than my patience.”

“Are we going in as a team?” Tony asked, sitting forward.

Fury shook his head. “No. This mission requires discretion. We’re sending in a pair of operatives who can handle themselves in hostile territory without making a scene.”

“Why the hell did you call us in for then?” Tony asked… politely.

“For emotional support, Stark, I’m glad you asked.”

My stomach dropped.

Please, God, no.

“Barnes and Y/L/N,” Fury announced, his voice firm, final.

The room froze. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then, simultaneously:

“No.” My voice cut through the silence just as Barnes pushed back his chair with a sharp screech.

“Absolutely not,” he growled, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were icy when they met mine, mirroring the outrage burning in my chest.

“I don’t have time for this.” Fury said, raising a hand to silence us both. “This mission isn’t about your personal issues. It’s about stopping NEXUS, before they get their claws into something bigger.”

“Send someone else,” Barnes snapped, his metal fingers digging into the edge of the table. “Anyone else.”

“No,” Fury said coolly. “You two are the best for this. Y/N, you know how they work. You have been studying them since you were a little kid. And you - he pointed his finger at Barnes - know how to operate in the shadows.”

“What if one of us kills the other before we get there?” I asked dryly, trying to mask the dread twisting in my gut.

“Then I'll have one less headache to deal with,” Fury said with the faintest hint of a smirk. "The plane leaves tomorrow at 0500. Pack light, move fast. And get your shit together." His eye landed on me, then Barnes, before he turned and walked out without another word.

He paused at the door, turning back with a slight smirk. "Oh, and one more thing. You'll be staying at a hotel near the mission site. Undercover as a rich couple looking to make a deal with NEXUS’S contacts. So, practice your loving gaze." He left before we could protest.

The room remained silent for a moment. I could feel the tension pressing against my skin like static electricity.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, shoving my chair back. I stood abruptly, my chest tight with frustration.

“No one’s thrilled about it,” Steve said gently.

I ignored him, turning toward the door.

Barnes beat me to it. He stalked past without looking back, his steps heavy, shoulders rigid. The door hissed shut behind him.

I exhaled shakily. My body buzzed with conflicting emotions—anger, dread, and something else I couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” Natasha said softly. I didn’t meet her eyes.

“I need air,” I muttered, and left.

“Well, so much for the emotional support I suppose.” Tony said to the rest with a wide smile on his face. “I hope Nick knows what he’s doing, otherwise it’s going to end really badly.”

_________________________________________________

I found myself at the nearest balcony I could find.

The air was crisp. The city stretched below, endless and oblivious to the turmoil in my chest. I gripped the railing until my knuckles ached.

Working with Barnes wasn’t just inconvenient. It was dangerous—not physically, but emotionally. That night in his room had cracked something open, and I wasn’t sure I could seal it shut again. And NEXUS? I had to experience them… all over again. What was Nick thinking?!

The door behind me cracked open and I tensed instinctively.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing out here?” Barnes’ voice was sharp and accusing.

“Getting away from you,” I snapped without turning.

“Yeah? Well, get used to disappointment,” he shot back. "Because we're stuck with each other."

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered.

“So I’m not the only one who needed a fresh air.” He exhaled a bitter laugh. "This mission’s going to be a disaster."

"We agree on something for once," I said through clenched teeth.

Neither of us moved, both too stubborn to be the first to leave. The hatred crackled like a live wire between us.

Just a mission. Just a cover. Just an absolute nightmare waiting to happen.

———————————————————————————

The ride to the airstrip the next morning was painfully silent. Sam tried to crack a joke as we boarded, but one glare from Barnes shut him up. The unease in my chest hadn’t loosened; if anything, it had grown heavier with each passing hour.

Once we got on the Quinjet the hum of the engines was the only sound as we sat on opposite sides of the cabin. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, arms crossed tight over my chest.

Barnes sat with his elbows on his knees, metal fingers flexing and clenching like he was imagining wringing someone’s neck. Probably mine.

"You always this chatty?" I muttered finally, trying to provoke him somehow. Maybe this mission would be over if I finally had an excuse to kill him? A girl can dream.

"Why waste my breath?" he shot back without looking up. "We both know how this is going to go."

"Yeah? And how’s that?"

"You’ll try to boss me around. I’ll ignore you. You’ll get pissed. We survive by some miracle, and then we go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist."

"Sounds like you've really thought this through."

"I like to plan for disasters," he said flatly.

I opened my mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. Not worth it. The next few weeks would be hell either way; no point burning what little patience I had left before we even landed.

The rest of the flight passed in strained silence.

When the quinjet touched down just outside the city, we disembarked without a word. A black sedan waited for us, sleek and nondescript. Barnes tossed his duffel in the trunk with more force than necessary. I slid into the passenger seat without looking at him.

The drive to the hotel was no better. I could feel the tension radiating off him, the thick, heavy presence of his frustration tangling with mine. We didn’t speak until we reached the hotel entrance.

The building was obnoxiously luxurious—all gleaming glass and marble, with staff dressed like they belonged on a movie set. The hostess at the front desk greeted us with a bright smile.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson!" she chirped.

Barnes stiffened beside me. My stomach turned. "Yeah," I said through clenched teeth. "That’s us."

"We've prepared your suite as requested. Here is your key." She handed me a slim card with an embossed logo. "Enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, just let us know."

"Thanks," I muttered, snatching the card.

Barnes didn’t move until I elbowed him. "Come on, sweetheart," I said with exaggerated venom. "Let's go enjoy our romantic getaway."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he followed me to the elevator.

The ride up was torturously slow. When the doors opened, we strode down the hall in, again, tense silence. I swiped the keycard, pushed the door open, and stopped dead.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

The room was stunning, all polished wood and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline. But that wasn’t what had my stomach in knots.

The bed—the one, singular bed—was massive and covered in crisp white linens. Sitting dead center on the mattress was a folded piece of paper with bold, familiar handwriting.

"What the hell is that?" Barnes asked, stepping up beside me.

I grabbed the note and read it aloud:

"'Have fun. —Fury.'"

The paper crumpled beneath my grip as I clenched my fists. "That manipulative, one-eyed asshole," I hissed.

"Son of a bitch," Barnes muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. "He did this on purpose."

"Of course he did!" I threw my bag on the chair by the window with more force than necessary. "He thinks this is fucking funny."

Barnes paced faster. "This is exactly why I didn't want to do this mission with you."

"Oh, please," I snapped. "Like I'm thrilled about playing house with Tin Man over here."

He turned sharply to face me, his eyes narrowing. "You know what I’ve noticed about you? You never listen to anyone but yourself. It’s always your way or nothing."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, I never listen? Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that? You’re the one who can’t see past your own damn reflection."

Barnes’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. "It’s not about seeing past myself. It’s about you thinking you’re the only one with the right answers. You never take anyone else’s opinion seriously."

I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, because you always take other people’s feelings into account, right?"

He growled, taking a step forward. "I’m not the one who’s constantly barking orders without listening. You act like you’ve got everything figured out, and everyone else is just supposed to fall in line."

"Maybe if you’d ever considered what anyone else says for once instead of getting all up in your feelings, we’d get somewhere!" I shot back, my frustration boiling over. "But no, you’re too busy wallowing in your own self-righteousness, “I am a victim” shit, to notice anyone else!"

"You think I’m self-righteous?" He barked a bitter laugh. "You’re the most self-absorbed person I’ve ever met! You can’t see past your own agenda long enough to hear anything outside of it."

"Self-absorbed?" I snapped. "You’re one to talk! You think everything revolves around you, and you don’t even stop to think about how anyone else is trying to make this work. It’s YOUR way or nothing, Barnes!"

"I have to do it my way because your way is always ‘perfect’ in your mind!" His voice rose, the anger and frustration evident. "You’re so stuck on controlling every damn thing that you can’t even see you’re pushing everyone away!"

I took a deep breath, glaring at him. "You know what, Barnes? Maybe if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own damn ego, you’d realize I’m just trying to get shit done while you stand there acting like the world’s out to get you."

"Yeah, well maybe if you actually listened to the people around you, you wouldn’t have to do everything yourself!" He shot back, fists clenched.

"Fuck you, Barnes!" I snapped, voice seething.

"Right back at you, sweetheart!" he snarled.

We glared at each other, breathing hard. My hands shook from the adrenaline, from the sheer rage coiling in my gut.

The tension in the room shifted, from raw anger to something sharper, more dangerous. His eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a second, and that single glance sent a jolt of something electric through me.

I took a step back. "I'm taking the left side," I said, voice strained.

"Like hell you are," he growled. "I'm not sleeping next to you. I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"Perfect," I snapped. "Enjoy your hardwood honeymoon."

I grabbed my bag, stalked to the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me.

What the hell that argument was even about - I thought to myself. I didn't like the weird tension after we were done screaming at eachother. Pressing my back against the door, I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled shakily.

But beneath the fury and the dread, there was the cold, undeniable truth neither of us had said aloud yet: I fucking hated him. Not just because he was an asshole. Not just because we couldn’t be in the same room without fighting.

I hated him because of her.

My sister. My heart. The only family I had and yet somehow - we were here, pretending to be a loving couple, while the ghost of her clung to every word we spoke. She’d want me to hate him, right? To get revenge on the man who killed her… I remember her being so soft, even in that harsh environment. She was an angel. So forgiving. And yet I knew I could not forgive HIM.

I wiped my eyes roughly and forced myself to breathe.