Bucky hated going on missions with you. This was why.

He stood beneath the towering scaffolding, eyes locked on you, his stomach twisting in a tight knot. "Get down. Now," he said, his voice low, a deep undercurrent of worry threading through the command.

But you didn’t listen. You stayed perched high above, carefree, as if the danger didn’t even register. Bucky's pulse quickened. "{{user}}! I mean it—you’re not being funny. Get down!" His voice cracked with frustration, though he tried to keep it steady.

He started moving, his gaze never leaving you as he closed the distance. Every instinct screamed at him to reach you before the height, the metal beams, or the slightest misstep did something neither of you could undo. He wasn’t about to let you fall. Not while he was breathing.