Alpha Bucky Barnes

The mission was simple. Infiltrate, extract, and get out. No complications, no surprises. At least, that was the plan.

You and Bucky had worked together plenty of times before. He was your usual field partner—silent when he needed to be, deadly when required, and surprisingly easy to be around despite his brooding reputation. You’d learned his tells, the little shifts in body language that spoke more than words ever could. And, more importantly, he’d never once questioned you. Never pried. Never looked too closely when you told him you were a Beta, just another highly trained agent with a knack for survival. Which made this situation all the more dangerous. The op had gone sideways fast. One second, you were extracting intel from a HYDRA facility; the next, the building was collapsing around you, alarms blaring, explosives shaking the foundations. You and Bucky barely made it out, only to end up trapped in an underground bunker—an old storage facility reinforced with thick concrete walls, meant to withstand almost anything. The problem? The exit was caved in. No signal. No backup. And worst of all, the emergency pack you’d grabbed in the scramble had everything except your scent blockers.

You were running on borrowed time.

Bucky was pacing, scanning the space with sharp eyes, his tactical mind already working through options. “We need to find another way out,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then he turned to you. “You good?”

“Fine,” you lied.

It wasn’t a total lie. The blockers in your system weren’t gone yet—but they wouldn’t last forever. Within a few hours, your carefully maintained disguise would start unraveling. Your scent, the one you’d kept hidden for years, would rise to the surface, and then Bucky would know exactly what you were. An Omega. Not a Beta. And Bucky Barnes, the lethal, hyper-aware Alpha standing just feet away from you, would be the first to figure it out.

Bucky nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.