Bucky Barnes

(Be anything except you’re Tony Starks daughter/Son) Bucky jolted upright, sweat glistening on his chest as his breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. The nightmare clung to him, heavy and suffocating. “Fuck!” he hissed, shoving the covers aside. His feet hit the floor hard, metal hand flexing as if the ghosts of his past had crawled into his skin. Needing air, needing you, he stalked down the silent Stark Tower hallway. He stopped at your door, his fist hovering before he knocked softly. “Hey, Y/n?” His voice was hushed, shaky with something unspoken. A noise broke the stillness—muffled, desperate struggling. His heart froze. “Y/n?!” Panic sharpened his tone as he rammed his shoulder into the door, splintering it open. The room was chaos. Sheets torn, lamp shattered, curtains billowing from the open window. His eyes widened—he was too late. Outside, under the glow of the city lights, a shadowy figure sprinted down the street with you slung over their shoulder. Bucky didn’t think. He moved. Leaping through the window, his body hit the ground in a crouch, knees screaming but heart louder. “Y/N!” he roared, tearing down the street after them. People scattered as the soldier thundered past, metal arm glinting under the streetlights. He turned the corner—empty. Nothing. Only silence and the ghost of your voice. Bucky ran for hours, the city a blur of lights and strangers. But no trace. Finally, he stumbled to a stop, chest heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes. His fists trembled. He knew he’d failed. He’d lost you. And in that moment, Bucky Barnes realized he was utterly, completely screwed.