#Winter Soldier series

[koiponderingart]

The best of Winter Soldier: Of the many Winter Soldier/Bucky Barns paints I have done, these are my favorite.

Please feel free to find me on Ig: koipondering

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 66: Unspoken

Warnings: major character death, grief and loss, emotional distress, mature themes, angst, violence, mentions of blood, themes of self-sacrifice and acceptance, heartbreaking conversations, romantic tension and vulnerability, strong language, sexual themes

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Alice’s eyes snapped open, her head throbbing with the force of a brutal headache. She felt the weight of her body pressing against the ground, the familiar hum of battle still crackling in the air. For a moment, everything felt surreal, too disorienting to grasp, but then she heard it: Peter Parker’s voice, calling out to her.

“Miss Onyx!” he shouted, his tone panicked but familiar. “Get up! We need to move! The gauntlet!”

Groaning, Alice pushed herself up, her eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield around them. Her sword was lying just a few feet away, its blade gleaming faintly. She reached for it, gripping the hilt with steady hands. As she did, the ground shook beneath her, and she looked up just in time to see Thanos preparing for another brutal attack. He was fighting Wanda, her power nearly overwhelming him, but he wasn’t backing down.

Once she noticed what Thanos was about to do, she instinctively pulled Peter into cover, her body blocking his as she shielded the gauntlet with hew own. The barrage of energy blasts rained down on them, the air sizzling with heat and force. But just as suddenly as it started, the blitz stopped. Alice’s chest heaved, her senses on high alert as she cautiously looked up.

Then, she saw it – Captain Marvel, hurtling through the sky, ripping Thanos’s ship like it was made of paper. She couldn’t help herself. She let out a whoop, a triumphant shout that was both a relief and a declaration of victory.

“Fuck yeah, Carol!” Alice yelled, her grin fierce. “I bet the giant grape is shitting his pants right now.”

Captain Marvel’s descent was like watching a comet crash to Earth, and when Carol landed in front of Alice and Peter, a new sense of hope blossomed in Alice’s chest. She stood up, pushing Peter gently to the side, though he remained clutching the gauntlet.

“Hi. I’m Peter Parker,” he said, giving Carol a small, awkward wave.

Carol’s grin was infectious as she met his gaze. “Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?”

Alice straightened up beside Carol, smiling at her friend before giving a quick nod. “Hey, Carol. Glad you could make it.”

Peter shakily passed her the gauntlet, his hands still trembling. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that,” he said, looking toward the warzone.

But before Carol could answer, the ground rumbled again as Wanda appeared, flying beside Valkyrie, her Pegasus taking her through the air with terrifying grace. Wanda’s voice rang out, steady despite the chaos.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda said, confidence in her tone.

“She’s got help,” Okoye, who had joined them, spoke.

Pepper, Mantis, Shuri, the Wasp, Gamora, and Nebula followed, their arrival like a wave of reinforcements crashing down on Thanos’s forces. They stood ready for battle, determined to see this fight to the bitter end.

Carol began to push forward, flying through the Outriders, Sakaarans, and Chitauri with an ease that made it look effortless. Wanda and Valkyrie destroyed Leviathans in their wake, their power unmatched. Alice, too, was in motion, slashing through enemies, her sword singing as it cut through the air.

Ebony Maw was the next target. Alice’s sword met his chest with a brutal thrust, pinning him to the ground. As he gasped in agony, Alice leaned down, her eyes narrowing with pure fury.

“That’s for throwing me across the fucking field,” she muttered, twisting the blade for emphasis before pulling it free.

Just a few meters away, Alice noticed Corvus Glaive fighting with a Wakandan warrior. She didn’t wait for Corvus to get the upper hand on the struggling warrior. Her boots pounded against the dirt and shattered fragments of metal, and she barely paused to shout, “Leave this one to me!”. The Wakandan man gave her a grateful nod and stepped back, eyes wide as she stepped into the fray.

Corvus turned his blade-like gaze on her, a twisted grin pulling at his lips. “I ripped your head off once,” Alice snarled, dropping her sword on the ground, “I can and will do it again.”

He sneered, “No, you didn’t.”

Alice’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Let me refresh your memory then.”

Corvus lunged at her, his weapon slicing the air, but Alice dropped into a low roll, evading the deadly swing. Dust and dirt kicked up around her as she popped back to her feet and leaped onto Corvus’s back with a burst of speed. Her legs clamped around his shoulders, locking in tight, and her fingers curled under his chin, finding a grip.

Corvus roared, thrashing wildly, but Alice held firm, drawing on every ounce of strength she had. With a fierce, determined scream, she pulled, and the muscles in her arms straining as she wrenched his head backward. The sinews of his neck resisted, and he tried to throw her off, staggering backward, but she tightened her legs and twisted.

There was a sickening crack, and Corvus’s head ripped from his body with a grotesque, wet sound. His body crumpled to the ground beneath her, lifeless and defeated. Breathing hard, Alice landed on her feet, holding the severed head aloft before tossing it aside.

“Memory refreshed,” she spat, catching her breath as she surveyed the ongoing chaos, already searching for the next target. She wiped her hands off on her pants, the blood still dripping from her fingers, but it wasn’t until she heard a sharp intake of breath that she turned.

Okoye stood a few feet away, her wide eyes locked on the lifeless body of Corvus Glaive, his head lying discarded in the dirt. The look on Okoye’s face was a mixture of pure horror and absolute disbelief.

“Did you just-?” Okoye’s voice was strained, like she couldn’t quite process what she had just witnessed.

Alice, still catching her breath, gave a casual shrug, as if decapitation one of Thanos’s top warriors was no big deal. “Yeah. I did.”

Okoye blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. She finally settled on a deadpan, “I don’t know whether to be impressed or deeply disturbed.”

Alice shot her a grin. “Both is probably the right answer.”

Okoye could only stare, her face a picture of utter confusion and amazement. “You are a very, very strange woman.”

Meanwhile, Carol was streaking toward the van with the gauntlet, but the fight wasn’t over yet. Thanos was charging after her, but before he could reach her, he was stopped in his tracks by a blast from Pepper, Shuri, and the Wasp, knocking him back. Carol soared past him, but Thanos, now fully enraged, threw his double sword at the van. The weapon shattered the Quantum Realm tunnel, the blast sending Carol spiralling backward. The gauntlet slipped from her grasp, landing with a heavy thud on the ground.

Alice’s heart pounded as she sprinted across the battlefield, her boots pounding against the cracked ground. She’d seen Tony’s move, the way he’d tackled Thanos with everything he had, and now she was running toward the chaos, adrenaline pushing her faster. She didn’t know if it was the desperation or the sheer fury of watching Thanos almost win, but nothing was going to stop her from reaching him.

She reached the clearing just in time to see Tony being thrown in the air like a ragdoll, his body slamming against the dirt with a sickening thud. Her eyes locked onto Thanos, the gauntlet now on his arm, and she felt a surge of dread fill her chest.

The end was coming, and it was coming fast.

“No,” she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t have time to think, to hesitate. The world had gone quiet for a split second, the thrum of her heart drowning out everything else. She was already moving, charging forward, sword in hand. Her grip tightened, her breath steady.

Thanos’s fingers curled, and Alice’s stomach twisted as he prepared to snap his fingers. And then she heard it, Thanos’s voice cutting through the chaos.

“I am inevitable,” Thanos said, his voice dark and sure.

Alice reached him just as he snapped his fingers, and for a moment, nothing happened. Just a metallic “clink”. Thanos stared down at his hand in confusion, and his face twisted in horror as he realized the Infinity Stones were gone.

Tony Stark, now standing tall with the stones on his own hand, the power of them coursing through him, looked at Thanos one last time.

"And I… am… Iron Man.”

With that, Tony snapped his fingers.

Thanos’s army crumbled to ash, and Thanos, too, began to disintegrate. Horror filled his eyes as he looked around, watching his entire plan fall apart. He sat down, defeated at last, his form slowly fading from existence, his power, his dreams, evaporating into the void.

Alice’s feet seemed to falter with every step she took toward Tony. Her eyes were wide, her heart pounding, but nothing could prepare her for the sight in front of her. Tony, still laying amidst the wreckage, his right side a mangled mess of raw energy and shattered armour, was struggling to breathe. The very sight of him made her chest tighten in a way that felt like her ribs were cracking. Every piece of her screamed for him to move, to get up, to make some joke, something – anything – but there was nothing.

She couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, the hopelessness sinking in like a heavy weight that crushed her lungs. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground beside him, unable to look away from the slow, laboured rise and fall of his chest.

The power of the Gauntlet had destroyed him. There was no question now.

“Tony…” her voice broke, barely more than a whisper as she reached out, trembling hands hovering over him but unable to touch. She couldn’t bear to see him like this.

Bucky’s hand found hers before she could pull away, his grip firm warm. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was a quiet anchor, offering her the steadying force she needed. She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“He’s not…” Her voice faltered, and she could barely finish the thought. She didn’t wanna to say it. She couldn’t make herself admit it.

Bucky squeezed her hand tighter, his eyes full of silent understanding, and said nothing. He just stayed there, holding her, offering his support without needing to say anything more.

Peter Parker appeared then, soaring down from the sky with his webbing. He landed awkwardly beside Tony, his eyes scanning the fallen hero with disbelief. “Mr Stark?” he said, his voice trembling as he kneeled beside him, looking desperately for some sign of life. “Hey, Mr Stark? Can you hear me? It’s Peter. Hey. We won, Mr Stark – we won. You did it, sir. You did it.”

Alice couldn’t bear to watch as Peter’s voice cracked, his hands shaking as he tried to rouse Tony, his tears falling freely. She closed her eyes, her breath hitching as the overwhelming weight of it all settled in her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whispered, collapsing into Tony’s unresponsive form, his arms wrapping around him. “Tony…” His voice was barely a whisper, filled with so much pain Alice could barely breathe. He couldn’t lose Tony too – not like this.

Pepper arrived, kneeling beside Tony, her face etched with grief. Her hands shook as she touched his face, trying to hold onto him, as if touching him one more time might bring him back. “Hey,” she whispered softly, but Tony could barely lift his head.

“Hey, Pep…” Tony’s voice was a raspy murmur, so weak, but it was still him. Still the man who’d saved them all.

Pepper placed her hand on Tony’s Arc Reactor as Tony rested his hand on hers. She stared at his injuries, afraid of what was coming.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” She called the AI.

“Life functions critical,” the AI responded as Tony smiled with tears in his eyes.

“Tony,” she gently lifted his face so he could see her one last time.

Alice felt her heart tear in two. Her breath hitched as she watched Pepper say the words Alice knew were coming.

“We’re gonna be okay. You can rest now.”

And with that, Tony’s Arc Reactor flickered and died. The light that had once been a symbol of hope, of Iron Man, of all that Tony Stark had been, was gone.

Alice let out a strangled sob, her chest tight with a pain she couldn’t name. Bucky wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, but it didn’t stop the ache that filled every inch of her being. Tony was gone.

And then, in the midst of the silence, every hero who had fought beside him gathered around, kneeling in honour of the man who had given everything.

And there, on the battlefield, they all mourned together. For Tony Stark. For the hero. For the friend.

The air in the aftermath of the battle was thick with exhaustion and grief. Wakandan medics, led by T’Challa and Doctor Strange, had quickly opened portals and brough in advanced technology to check on everyone, making sure no one had injuries that couldn’t be mended. They cleaned up everyone’s wounds, patching up what they could, and offering the best healing methods they had at their disposal.

Alice had barely registered when the medics came to check her. She’d been lost in a daze of emotions – relief, pain, disbelief. The battle was over. They had won. But it didn’t feel like a victory. Not when they’d lost so much. Not when Natasha and Tony were gone.

Bucky had been cleared too, but he hadn’t left her side, his quiet presence a comfort that she wasn’t sure she could handle losing.

As the medics finished and left them both standing in the quiet aftermath, Alice turned to him, her voice soft but steady. “Come back with me,” she said, the words heavy with meaning. “To my place. In Harlem. We’ll just… be there.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his blue eyes scanning her face. But then he nodded, giving her a faint, sad smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

As they made their way to leave, Alice caught sight of Steve, standing off to the side, his arms crossed as he watched them. There was something in his eyes – perhaps a quiet understanding, a silent approval – as he looked at his two best friends. It wasn’t the usual Steve Rogers, always stoic and reserved; no, this was something else.

Alice could tell there was a flicker of something in his gaze – contentment, maybe even a hint of relief. He knew what Bucky and Alice had been through, both separately and together. How much they had carried, how much they had fought to get here. And now, seeing them finally find each other again, even after everything that had happened, it seemed to bring Steve some peace.

He smiled, though it was small, and the lines of his face softened, as if he was finally seeing something that felt right again in the midst of all the chaos. There were no words exchanged between them, but in that brief moment, there didn’t need to be.

Alice gave Steve a nod, her voice soft as she said, “We’ll be okay.” It was more for herself than anyone else, but Steve heard it.

Bucky, too, offered a silent acknowledgement, the quiet understanding between them all remaining unspoken.

And then, with one final glance at Steve, Alice and Bucky stepped out into the cool night, ready to find what they could in the stillness of her apartment, knowing that, in their own way, they had found each other again.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, watching them leave, before turning his attention back to the scene before him. But his mind lingered on Alice and Bucky, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace about what had transpired.

The trip back to her apartment was a blur, the weight of everything still hanging in the air. Alice had barely said a word, her mind too full of everything they’d just been through. They both needed space to process it, but she wanted him with her, wanted the warmth of his presence to anchor her.

Once inside, Alice could barely focus on anything beyond the overwhelming fatigue. She headed straight for the bathroom, wanting to wash away the blood, dirt, and remnants of battle that clung to her skin. The shower’s warm water felt soothing against her sore body, and she stood under it for a long time, letting it wash over her in silence. When she finished, she wrapped herself in a towel, her mind still swirling with everything that had happened.

Bucky, meanwhile, took his own shower in the bathroom next door. His movements were slower than usual, but Alice didn’t press him. She knew the weight of the battle had taken its toll on him, just like it had on her. The silence between them was comfortable, but not in the way it usually was. This time, it felt heavy.

After a while, they both emerged from the bathroom, feeling a little more human. Before changing into something comfortable, Alice gave Bucky the biggest sweatpants and t-shirt she had. Once she was dressed, she settled on the couch with a sigh. The quiet of the apartment was different tonight – no longer a sanctuary of peace, but a reminder of all they had lost.

Bucky sat beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. Neither of them spoke for a while. There was nothing to say that could make the pain go away.

Finally, Alice broke the silence. “You should come to bed,” she said softly, her voice raw with emotion. “Please. I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Bucky hesitated, but only for a moment. The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He nodded, squeezing her hand before they both stood. He didn’t say a word, but as they made their way to her bedroom, he kept his arm around her, guiding her gently.

Once they were both in bed, the room dark and still, Alice curled up beside him, her head resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. For a moment, they just laid there, the quiet of the apartment settling over them like a blanket. Even though they had won, even though they were together, there was still that heavy, lingering sadness in the air.

When Bucky spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “We’ll get through this,” he said softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Alice’s heart ached, and she nodded. “Yeah, you and me. Together,” she whispered back.

And with that, they both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, finding comfort in each other’s arms, trying to forget, even if just for a moment, the world that had been left behind. And, for the first time in a long time, Alice allowed herself to drift off to sleep, knowing she wasn’t alone anymore.

Bucky had stayed in Alice’s apartment for a few days now, and although the stillness between them was comforting in its own way, it was also heavy. They had both been through so much – the battles, the losses, the weight of the years that had passed. Everything was supposed to be different now, right? They had won. They had their lives back. But there was something in the way they were with each other that made Alice feel like they were still stuck in a limbo, uncertain of how to move forward.

It was the quiet moments that made her wonder if they were really moving forward at all.

At first, sharing a bed had felt natural. It wasn’t anything sexual – just two people trying to find comfort after everything they had been through. They didn’t need words to express what they felt. Just being near each other was enough. But over time, Alice found herself wanting more. Her thoughts turned to what they could be if they let themselves, what it might feel to hold him in the most intimate way possible.

She would wait for the nights when he was relaxed, when the tension seemed to face from his body. She would wear her most revealing pyjamas, nudge closer to him, just enough that she could feel his warmth, but not too much to make him uncomfortable. Her hand would inch toward his, the subtle movement meant to be an invitation, a gentle push toward the closeness they both needed. But every time she reached for him, he would either gently pull away or shift enough to create a space between them.

At first, Alice convinced herself it was nothing. He was exhausted. He was still processing everything that had happened. She understood that. But as the days stretched on, those small gestures – the ones that said more than words ever could – began to pile up. His eyes would never meet hers when she looked at him, and when she touched his arm or brushed against him, there was no reciprocation. It was like there was a wall, built from everything that had happened to him, to both of them, and no matter how much she wanted to tear it down, she didn’t know how.

One night, after they had shared a meal and talked about the small, trivial things that made the day feel normal again, Alice felt the same urge. They were sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, his arm resting on the back of the seat. She didn’t even need words. She just wanted to be close to him in a way that felt more real than the invisible barrier between them. The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a gentle glow across the room as Alice leaned into Bucky, her lips meeting his in a slow, passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, she moved to straddle him, her hands tangling in his hair, and she began to rock her hips slightly against him. Bucky’s breath caught, his hands instinctively finding her waist, holding her as desire surged between them.

For a heartbeat, it felt electric, an undeniable pull igniting between them. But then, Bucky stilled, his fingers tightening briefly on her hips before he gently but firmly lifted her and sat her beside him on the couch. The heat between them cooled in an instant, replaced by a tension Alice couldn’t quite interpret.

“I… I need a shower,” he mumbled hurriedly, not meeting her eyes as he stood up and made his way to the bathroom, leaving Alice flushed and longing, her heart sinking with confusion.

The air felt thick, suffocating. Alice’s chest tightened, her heart aching as she left for bed. The space between them was becoming more than just physical; it was emotional, and Alice could feel it growing wider with every passing second. She had tried so hard to be patient, to give him the space he needed. But with each quiet refusal, the doubt started creeping in. What if he didn’t want her? What if all this time, she had misread the signs? What if he couldn’t love her the way she loved him?

The next day, when Alice was feeling particularly raw, she decided to confront the silence that had settled between them. She had been avoiding it for as long as she could, but there was no more running from it. She had to know what was going on, what he was really feeling.

One evening, after a quiet dinner, Alice suggested they go to the rooftop to get some air and watch the fireworks that were being thrown that night. The sky had grown dark, and the city below them was alive with lights, but the distance between them felt more pronounced than ever.

They stood there, side by side, watching as the fireworks lit up the sky. It was a celebration of sorts – a tribute to the lives that had been restored, to the world that had somehow, against all odds, made it through. For a moment, Alice lost herself in the beauty of the lights, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Alice tilted her head, her fingers fidgeting slightly as she gathered her courage. She turned to Bucky, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her vulnerability. “Are we… okay?” she asked, her heart thudding anxiously.

Bucky glanced at her, his blue eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions – regret, affection, and worry. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as though the words he wanted to say were caught in his throat. “Yeah�� yeah, we’re fine,” he finally said, though his voice wavered, and the uncertainty lingered.

Alice’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she couldn’t help the frustrated exhale that escaped her. “Bucky, please,” she urged, leaning in a little closer. “I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. You keep pulling away from me, and I don’t understand why.” Her voice softened, the fear in her eyes evident. “I just… I just wanna know if you want this. Want me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and his hands turned into closed fists before he forced them to relax. He looked down, avoiding her gaze, and his fingers fumbled with the fabric of his shirt. “It’s just… I-I…” He took a deep breath, visibly struggling. “I just haven’t-”

Alice’s eyes widened, a teasing smile breaking through her worried expression. “Wait,” she interrupted, a note of disbelief and humour entering her voice. “Are you a virgin, Bucky?”

Bucky’s head snapped up so quickly that Alice almost expected him to get whiplash. His eyes went wide, and his face flushed bright red. “What? No!” he sputtered, his hands flying up in panic. “It’s not that!”

A laugh bubbled out of Alice, the tension easing ever so slightly, but Bucky groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Alice,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his palm, “you’re killing me here.”

Alice giggled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Hey, I had to ask! You looked so flustered.”

Bucky sighed, letting his hand drop as he shook his head, though his lips twitched upward at her laughter. “It’s just… I haven’t dated someone in so long,” he admitted, the humour giving way to vulnerability. He took a shaky breath, his eyes finally meeting hers. “And being in love with you… it feels like it’s the first time I’ve done this. The whole relationship thing.”

Alice’s playful grin softened as she listened, her heart aching at his honesty. Bucky continued, his voice low and sincere. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. It wasn’t what I intended, really. I just… I wanna do things right with you. You’re too important to me.”

Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall. Her smile grew gentle, and she reached out to take his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I… Bucky, it’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pressured you. Take your time. It’s totally fine, I swear.”

Bucky exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “I just… I wanna do this the right way, okay?” he repeated, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Alice’s heart felt like it might burst from the love she felt for this man. “I love you, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in that way she adored. “I love you too, Alice,” he said, and then leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, heartfelt kiss. The fireworks above seemed to echo their emotion, bursting with brilliance and joy as they held each other.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the warmth of being together and the magic of the night sky. The world felt a little less heavy, a little more bearable, as long as they had each other.

Then, after a few minutes, Alice’s curiosity got the better of her. She shifted slightly, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Hey, Buck?” she said, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice relaxed and content as he held her close.

Her grin widened. “You didn’t answer my question, though.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What question?” he asked.

Alice’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are you a virgin?” she asked, drawing out the last word dramatically.

Bucky groaned, his cheeks flushing again as he threw his head back. “What-no, Alice,” he protested, laughing despite himself. “I’m not a virgin.”

Alice burst into laughter, and Bucky couldn’t help but join in, the two of them giggling like teenagers, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. The fireworks continued to explode above, showering them in light, but nothing compared to the joy they found in each other’s arms.

As the laughter died down, the rooftop returned to a quiet stillness, the sky now painted with the remnants of the fireworks’ dazzling display. Alice and Bucky sat together, a comforting silence settling over them, though a new tension began to coil in Alice’s stomach. She leaned her head on Bucky’s shoulder, savouring his warmth, but the weight of a secret pressed down on her heart.

Bucky’s arm was wrapped securely around her, but he noticed the way her body tensed tightly. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

Alice hesitated for a moment, then forced a smile. “Yeah,” she replied, but the tightness in her chest didn’t ease. Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt nervously. She knew she had to tell him the truth, no matter how afraid she was of his reaction.

I have to tell him about what happened between me and Steve, she thought, her mind swirling with anxiety. The memory of her past relationship with Steve was something that she couldn’t keep from Bucky. He deserved to know, especially now that they were moving forward together.

But as she looked into Bucky’s kind, trusting eyes, the words caught in her throat. Not tonight, she decided. Not here, not like this. She swallowed hard and resolved to tell him after Tony’s funeral. It would be the right time, and he deserved to hear it directly from her.

Bucky watched her carefully, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. But for now, he let it go, gently squeezing her hand. They stayed there on the rooftop, holding each other as the stars emerged one by one, a silent promise lingering between them that they would face whatever came next together.

The morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains in Alice’s apartment, casting a warm, golden glow that spilled across the floorboards. The peaceful ambiance was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotion still gripping Bucky. Alice lay fast asleep in the bedroom, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, her breathing even and calm. Bucky had slipped out of bed with care, moving as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her. He left a note on the kitchen counter, promising he’d be back soon, though he hadn’t given a hint as to where he was going.

The streets were eerily quiet as Bucky made his way to Steve’s apartment. He took the familiar route, memories flooding his mind – memories of the war, of decades lost to Hydra, of everything that had happened to him and Steve. And yet, here they were, still standing, still breathing, and still fighting, even after everything. But Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling of something coming to an end.

When he arrived at Steve’s place, the door was already ajar. He pushed it open gently, stepping inside to find Steve standing by the window, his back to Bucky. Sunlight spilled over Steve’s shoulders, making him seem both golden and impossibly weary. Bucky’s heart tightened in his chest; he knew his best friend well enough to sense the gravity of the moment before a single word had been spoken.

Steve turned around slowly, his blue eyes meeting Bucky’s. There was a calmness there, but it was layered with something else – something Bucky hadn’t seen in along time: peace, maybe, but also a deep, aching yearning.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted softly, his voice steady, but his eyes shimmering with a bittersweet kind of resolve.

“Hey, punk,” Bucky replied, though his attempt at levity fell flat. There was no masking the heaviness in his voice. He stepped closer, searching Steve’s face. “What’s going on?”

Steve exhaled a slow breath, his gaze drifting out the window for a moment before he looked back at Bucky. “When I went back to the 70s to get the stone,” Steve began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I saw her. I saw Peggy. And right then… I knew what I had to do.” His eyes grew distant, like he was reliving that moment. “I knew that was my chance, Buck. My chance to finally have the life I’ve always dreamed about. The life I never thought I’d get back.”

Bucky swallowed, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. “Steve…” he whispered, though he couldn’t quite form the words that needed to follow.

Steve’s lips curved into a small, wistful smile. “And then, during the battle, when I saw you and Alice together,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly, “it just made me realize it even more. Seeing you two find each other again, seeing you be happy… it hit me, you know? I want that for myself, too. I need it. I deserve to be happy, to be loved. And Peggy… she’s always been my girl. My happy ending.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, the full weight of Steve’s words crashing down on him. He stepped forward, his boots feeling heavy on the floor. “What are you saying?” he finally managed, though his voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

Steve’s smile was sad, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Once I return the Stones, I’m gonna stay in the past. With Peggy. I’m not coming back this time.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the words hanging between them like a heavy, unbreakable truth. Bucky felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, his hands trembling slightly. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his emotions from spilling over.

Steve stepped closer, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Tell me I’m not making a mistake,” he pleaded, his voice breaking just a little. “Please, Buck.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, and he had to swallow hard before he could speak. His mind raced with memories – of Brooklyn, of alleyway scrapes and shared laughter, of the decades stolen from them both. But he saw something in Steve’s eyes that made his heart ache: a longing for peace, for a love he’d waited too long for. “No,” Bucky finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “No, you’re not making a mistake. You need this. You deserve to be happy, Steve. To be with Peggy, your girl, the love of your life.” He took a shuddering breath. “It’s just… I just got you back, and now I have to lose you again.” His voice broke, a tear spilling down his left cheek. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

Steve’s own tears finally fell, and he pulled Bucky into a tight embrace. They clung to each other, two brothers who had endured so much, their bond unbreakable even in the face of this impending farewell. “I know,” Steve whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m gonna miss you too, Buck.”

Bucky closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, memorizing the feeling of this hug, the warmth and strength of the only brother he’d ever known. “Damn it, Steve,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Why does it always have to be like this?”

Steve pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Bucky’s eyes. His hands still rested on Bucky’s shoulders, as if he were holding on for dear life. “I wish it didn’t,” he admitted, a tear slipping down his cheek. “But this… this feels right.”

They stayed that way for a moment, holding each other, the unspoken love and pain between them palpable. Finally, Bucky stepped back, wiping at his eyes. “Have you told anyone about this yet?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Steve shook his head. “Nope, just you. I’m planning on going to Alice’s apartment later this evening to tell her.”

Bucky managed a small, sad smile. “Hum, okay. I’ll make sure I’m not there so you guys can have some privacy.”

Steve looked at him, slightly puzzled. “No, it’s okay, Buck. You don’t have to go.”

But Bucky insisted, his smile widening just a fraction. “You two should talk alone. I know how close you are.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise, a realization dawning on him. “Oh, you know?” he asked, his voice soft. For a moment, he wondered if Alice had already told Bucky about their past relationship. “And you’re… fine with that?”

Bucky chuckled softly, though his heart still felt heavy. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, the sincerity in his voice clear.

Steve felt a small sense of relief, though a bit of surprise lingered. “Oh, okay,” he said. “How do you think she’ll react?”

Bucky took a moment, his mind drifting to Alice’s smile, her laughter, and the strength she carried in her heart. “Honestly,” he said, his voice warm and genuine, “I think she’ll be happy for you.”

Steve's expression softened, a mix of hope and gratitude crossing his features. “Thanks, Buck. That means a lot.”

Bucky hesitated, a nervous edge creeping into his demeanour. He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a deep breath before meeting Steve's eyes. “Speaking of Alice,” he began, his voice faltering for just a moment, “I’ve been thinking about something. Actually, a lot.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” he asked, his concern for his friend momentarily pushing aside the heaviness of their conversation.

Bucky swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his next words. “I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open slightly as the words sank in. For a moment, the room seemed frozen, the significance of Bucky’s confession wrapping around them like an invisible force. “You… you want to marry her?” Steve echoed, as if he needed to hear it again to truly believe it.

Bucky’s heart pounded as he shifted uncomfortably under Steve’s gaze. He nodded, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve thought about it for a while now. She even noticed I’ve been acting strange. Ever since we got everyone back… she’s my home, Steve. The way she makes me feel… it’s like, even with everything we’ve been through, there’s hope. A future.” His voice trembled, raw with honesty.

Steve’s initial shock melted into a slow, warm smile, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Bucky,” he said, his voice filled with genuine affection, “that’s… that’s incredible.” He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, his eyes shining with happiness. “I’m so proud of you. And so happy for you both.”

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, a relief flooding through him. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “You think it’s a good idea?”

Steve nodded, his grin widening. “Absolutely. Alice is one of the strongest, most loving people I know. And you… you deserve this, Buck. You deserve to be happy and to build a life together.” Steve’s expression softened, a wistful glimmer in his eyes. “If anyone understands what it means to have found love after everything we’ve lost, it’s me.”

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and he looked away for a moment, trying to steady his emotions. “You really think I can make her happy?” he asked quietly, vulnerability seeping through his tough exterior. “After everything… the things I’ve done, the things she’s seen… she still deserves better.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “Hey,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering, “Alice chose you. She’s seen all of you, the good and the bad, and she still loves you. That’s real, Buck. And I know you’ll make her happy because you love her with everything you have.” Steve paused, his expression turning serious. “You’ve come so far. You’ve fought so hard to be the man you are now. You’re more than worthy of this, and don’t you ever forget it.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, and he found himself blinking back tears. “Thanks, Steve,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That means everything, coming from you.”

Steve smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. “So, when are you planning to ask her? Got a big, romantic plan?” he teased lightly, trying to add a bit of levity to the conversation.

Bucky chuckled, some of the tension easing from his frame. “I don’t know,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, it’s Alice we’re talking about. She’s not one for grand gestures. I want it to be… simple but meaningful. Something that shows her how much she means to me.”

Steve nodded, his eyes alight with understanding. ��Knowing her, she’ll probably appreciate something heartfelt more than anything flashy. Just be yourself. Speak from the heart.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a genuine smile, the kind he didn’t often show. “Yeah,” he agreed, feeling a bit more confident. “That sounds like something she’d like.”

Steve’s expression softened with warmth. “She’s gonna be so happy, Buck.” His voice grew quiet. “And knowing that you two have found each other again… it makes all of this a little easier for me.”

Bucky swallowed, his gaze locking onto Steve’s. “We’re gonna miss you, you know,” he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. “But I understand. I really do.”

Steve’s eyes misted over, and he pulled Bucky into another hug, their bond speaking louder than words. “I’ll miss you too,” he whispered. “But knowing you’re happy, that you have a future with Alice… that makes this goodbye a little more bearable.”

They stayed like that for a moment, two brothers in arms, holding onto each other and the life they had fought so hard to reclaim. Finally, they pulled apart, both looking a little steadier, a little more resolute.

“Promise me you’ll take care of her,” Steve said softly, his voice full of unspoken love and trust.

Bucky’s gaze was fierce, his blue eyes blazing with a protective intensity. “Always,” he vowed. “With everything I have.”

As the evening settled over Harlem, the warm glow of streetlights spilled into Alice’s apartment, painting the walls in a golden hue. The day had felt long and surreal, filled with the quiet echoes of mourning, victory, and the crushing reality that they’d never be the same again. Alice stood at the kitchen counter, fiddling with a mug of tea she hadn’t touched, her thoughts a tangled mess of relief, grief, and worry.

Bucky had kissed her on the forehead before leaving. “I’ll grab us some pizza from that place you really like,” he’d said, the tenderness in his eyes almost enough to settle the unease in her chest. Almost. Alice had nodded, watching him walk out of the door, the click of the lock echoing in the silence that followed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, trying to make sense of the ache she couldn’t seem to shake. The war was over, but not the pain. Not yet.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and her heart skipped. “Coming,” she called, placing the mug down and heading to the door. When she opened it, she found Steve standing there, dressed in casual clothes that somehow seemed too normal, too ordinary, for someone who’d carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Hey, Ali,” Steve said gently, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Steve,” she whispered, surprised. “Hey. Come in.” She stepped aside, and he walked in, his movement deliberate, as if he were carrying something fragile. As he passed her, Alice’s brows furrowed. Something about him seemed… different.

They stood in the middle of her living room, and odd, heavy silence hanging between them. Steve’s hands fidgeted, an unusual nervousness tightening his jaw. Alice’s worry spiked. “Is everything okay?” she asked, voice soft but tinged with concern.

Steve’s eyes found hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. He had always been her steady anchor, the man who carried too many burdens but never wavered. But now, he looked vulnerable, like a man who’d made peace with something he hadn’t dared to hope for in a long time. “Alice,” he began, his voice breaking slightly. “We need to talk.”

The air grew thick, and Alice’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. “Okay,” she said cautiously, gesturing for him to sit. They settled on the couch, side by side but worlds apart. Steve turned slightly to face her, and the intensity in his gaze nearly unravelled her.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “And I need you to hear me out, okay?”

Alice swallowed, her throat dry. “Okay,” she whispered.

Steve took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging. “When I went back to the 70s, I saw her. I saw Peggy.” His voice cracked, the pain and longing so raw it made Alice’s chest ache. “And for a moment, if felt like all the years, all the fighting, all the loss… it just fell away. I saw the life I could have had. The life I’ve always wanted.”

Alice’s eyes welled up, and she reached out instinctively, her hand resting on his. “Steve…”

He gave her a small, pained smile, covering her hand with his. “Alice, I’ve always been the man out of time,” he continued, his voice wavering. “I’ve tried to make peace with it, but I can’t. I’ve given everything, and now… I need to take something back. I need to be with her.”

The words sank in, and a tear slipped down Alice’s cheek. She wanted to be happy for him, to be relieved that he’d finally get what he deserved. But the thought of losing him again shattered something deep inside her. She had already lost Natasha and Tony. She didn’t want to lose Steve too. “You’re… you’re staying in the past,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glistening. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m staying with Peggy. I can’t keep being the man out of his time, Alice. I need this.”

Alice’s breath caught, and she tried to hold back the sob rising in her throat. “But we just… we just won,” she choked out. “We just got everyone back together, Steve. You’re my family. How… how am I supposed to say goodbye?”

Steve’s face crumpled, and he reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt, her heart shattering with the realization that this was goodbye. “I know,” he whispered, his own tears falling. “I know it’s not fair. But you’re strong, Alice. You’ve always been so strong.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I’m strong because I had you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be strong without you.”

Steve placed his hands over hers, his thumbs brushing her tears away. “You don’t have to be strong alone,” he said. “You have Bucky now. And he loves you more than anything. You two are gonna take care of each other. Promise me you’ll take care of each other.”

Alice sobbed, nodding even though it felt like her world was falling apart. “I promise,” she whispered. “But it’s not gonna be the same.”

“No,” Steve agreed, his voice thick. “It won’t. But you’ll be okay. Both of you.”

They stayed like that, holding each other. Steve eventually pulled back, his own face streaked with tears. “You know,” he said, his voice cracking but a smile tugging at his lips, “when I saw you and Bucky together, I knew you’d be okay. I knew you’d finally found the happiness you deserve.”

Alice let out a shaky laugh, her tears still flowing. “He means everything to me,” she whispered. “But so do you.”

Steve’s smile grew, even as his eyes remained sad. “And you mean everything to me,” he said. “I’m so proud of you, Alice. Of the person you’ve become.”

She took a shuddering breath, trying to etch every detail of this moment into her memory. “I’m proud of you too,” she said, her voice raw. “For everything.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history pressing on them. Finally, Steve stood, his movements slow, like he was reluctant to leave. “I’ll see you again, you know,” he said, his smile soft. “In another time.”

Alice nodded, her heart breaking but her love for him burning brightly. “In another time,” she echoed, her voice trembling.

And with that, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on hers, filled with a love that would never fade, even across decades. Then he turned and walked out the door, leaving Alice to stand there, the echo of their goodbye ringing in her ears.

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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masterlist

[pascaloverx]

As It Was (S2)

Chapter Twelve

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Summary: You have a bold idea that obviously leads you and Bucky into an argument. Who doesn't like a wedding?

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

"That's the craziest invention you've ever had, Melisa. Did your ex-husband agree to this whole strategy?" Sam asks after you tell him your plan to capture Steve and Killian.

"What makes you believe I told him before I told the four of you?" I speak confidently that they will see things as I do.

"To recap, do you want to be bait in a fake wedding; making two dangerous men come after you?" Yelena seems to have understood the premise of my genius plan.

"Yes, this marriage will make them want to burn the archives. Despite my father's evidence, the fact that they tried to kill me makes everything worse." The reality is that I can't run away forever. Not knowing when something might happen to you or someone you love.

"What if they don't show up? Are you going to marry Barnes again?" Sam says it like it's the most unlikely thing in the world, considering I was married to Barnes once.

"Whatever, it's better to take a risk and not work out, than to do nothing and live in fear." I say, determined to make this weak team help me capture the man who killed my father and the man who almost killed me.

"I agree with Melisa, living in fear doesn't do any good. Not to mention that her marrying Bucky isn't the end of times. We'll be there to protect the engaged couple after all." Wanda speaks, trying to seek support in her wife's eyes, but Yelena seems unsatisfied.

"This could go very wrong, you could die, we could die too because Barnes won't accept this and we will have to do it without his cooperation. So if everything goes wrong he will take it out on us." Sam's right, Barnes will probably be pissed at them and if I survive at most I'll get two weeks without sex as punishment.

"But if we don't do anything to help Melisa, these two cowards will haunt her life. My friend spent months in a hospital bed and wants her peace back. I think we should give her that." Dave he says with authority, trying to show himself as a supporter of this plan. I hug him gently.

"Give what, to whom?" James Barnes came out of his eternal bath wearing a robe. Look, I didn't tell him about the plan but I know he's going to hate it.

"His ex-wife had an unusual idea to solve a problem. We're trying to figure out if it's worth trying." Yelena responds to Barnes, who looks confused.

"Funny, my ex-wife hasn't said anything to me in the days we've been together. At least nothing about this plan." You know that weird feeling like you're going to get fucked? I'm feeling it now.

"That's because she didn't feel you were ready to accept that plan." I say quietly as if I wished I didn't have to say anything.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much does Melisa put herself in danger in her plan?" He asks, clearly speaking to the rest of the group.

"Nine." Exactly everyone says it together, as if they were synchronized. Barnes looked at me as if to say, now you know why I don't like his plan.

"Baby, there's no way I'm going to agree to this plan. You at least suggested being bait to catch the two mother fuckers that almost killed you and I." It's funny how he says this minutes before grabbing me by the waist and kissing me on the cheek. 

"I'm not going to give up on the plan, Barnes. I love you and I respect you. I would like you to respect my plan and follow it. But if you don't, I'll go through with it without you." I said looking into the eyes my ex. I know he wants the best for me but I can't live in this way forever. 

"Do you want to end up like your father?" He responds sharply and I move away from him. I think we went back to the beginning of our relationship again. He wants to have the last word and I want to do what's best for me.

"Better to end up like him, than to live a life of fear and cowardice. If you don't understand me, that's your problem. But if you love me that much, you should support me and protect me. It was exactly for this reaction that I didn't tell you the plan." I say this hoping he will say something, say he will accept the plan or that I can't count on him. But I get silence. In fact, he left the house that was once ours and left without saying a word. 

"I changed my mind, I'll support you in this. If you need a new fiancé, I'm available. Now I'm going to go and see where your husband went." Sam says kissing my cheek and going after Barnes.

"I still think this plan is crazy but if you're willing to fight Barnes over this, it must be important to you. Count on me, for any plan you have." Yelena says giving me a look of support. I am grateful for her decision to help me.

"These idiots and I are going to help you. Either way we're going to get Steve and Killian. One way or another." Wanda says hugging me and then saying goodbye. Just me and Daven left.

"Wine and ice cream?" Dave says, throwing himself on the couch and turning on my TV. You nod your head, hoping that some movie will take your argument with Barnes out of your mind. To think he was so angry that he came out in a bathrobe. It's even funny. 

[barnesnatts]

New look at Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes in Marvel's THUNDERBOLTS.😍🫶🏻

[arkadiastackie]

sam & bucky are just a better duo than steve & bucky ever were. you either get it or you don’t

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just What I Needed 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: In an effort to evade a creep, you walk head first into Bucky Barnes. (short!reader)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: based on this

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You keep to yourself. You mind your business. It can be hard in the city where there's always a horn honking or a voice hollering. You know how to get by. How to get through.

Head down, feet moving, just don't stop. The rush of the city tunnels around you, you among the masses unnoticed, forgotten. The way you like it. It's better to be invisible.

The subway is crowded, as it always is. There's a busker playing their guitar out of tune at the other end, an argument across from you, and the ceaseless chatter of a man on his Bluetooth side-eyeing his neighbors. You keep your hands on your crossbody bag and stare at the floor. There's dirty and gum and something wet you don't want to wonder about.

Another stop comes, the rail squealing below, and another horde gets on as only a few bodies leave. The passenger next to you swaps for another. You make yourself smaller. One more stop.

The man smells like body odour and weed. You try not to make a face. You only tuck your chin down and take deliberate breaths.

His arm presses against yours. He leans in and you feel him looking you over. You clasp tightly to your bag and bite down. Is he eyeing you up to rob you? You lift your eyes a scan around quickly. Would anyone bother to stop him?

He startles you as he rubs his knuckle against your skirt. The plaid wool in shades of brown, tan, and a dusty pink. Your brown stockings perfect complement the piece. He continues to move his finger, slowly crawling to your hem. You shift and stand as your stop is called out by the automated voice. Thank god.

You rush over to join the rabble forming for escape. You don't dare look back. You're nearly crushed between the passengers and as good as carried out onto the platform. You get your footing and quickly spin in the right direction.

You pass through the turnstile and your bag catches on the bar. You turn back to untangle it. There's a man coming up. You recognise his tattered cuff. It's the same guy who say next to you. Is he following you?

You unhook the bag and twirl, hurrying away before you can get the answer. You try not to run, not wanting to antagonize him. Or draw any other unwanted attention. Your soles hit the pavement and slip on the first step. You grab onto the railing and take the stairs in a flurry of steps. You're breathless as you reach the top. A whistle comes behind you and a laugh.

"Hey, honey, why don't you wait up. That's a nice skirt," he calls after you in a grizzly voice.

Oh no! You can't stop, but you can't lead him to your work. That's a recipe for disaster. Never let them know where you live or where you frequent. That's what you read online. For all your efforts, it's never happened to you before. Maybe some wandering shadows in the dark steeped in paranoia, but never this.

Your throat burns dryly as your heart hammers. You pass by a couple, a man and woman in business attire. They're entirely blind to you. You give another woman a desperate look but she's tapping her Bluetooth and sighing. Please, someone help. The whistling continues.

"Kitty, kitty," the man taunts.

The smell of exhaust and street meat mingle in a sickening lure. You search around. You think of stopping at the new stand and signalling to the vendor for help. He's clutching a dollar bill and ranting at a customer. No help.

Why do you spend your time reading all those LetsNotMeet stories online? This is horrifying. No cops. The one day you need them and they're just not there.

A man steps up to the hot dog cart ahead of you and checks his watch. You notice the odd metallic glove he wears on only one hand. He might not be better than the one following you but you're out of options.

"Oh, hi," you as good as run into him. He grunts and looks down at you. "Sorry, I'm late," you stutter out the words and send him a wide-eyed pout. "You didn't order without me, did you?"

His brows furrow as you grasp onto his sleeve. You lower your voice as you stand on your toes, "please, pretend you know me."

The wobble in your throat nearly draws tears to the surface. His expression softens. He dips his chin subtly and brings his hand up behind you, ushering you closer to the hot dog cart.

"Two, Mikey," he holds up as many fingers. "Usual for me, and uh, what are you getting, doll?"

You glance over at the man as he stops by the news stand, squinting over at you as he fidgets endlessly. You turn your attention to the man behind the cart. "Um, just relish and... ketchup, thank you. Oh, and please."

The man beside you steps closer, "I see the guy, don't worry, doll. I got you."

You tremble, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do."

"All good," he presses his hand to your back as he keeps you close.

The vendor, Mikey, hands you your hot dog first. "You didn't say you were on the market, pal. My sister's looking." He kids.

"Ha, funny, Mikey." The man beside you says and takes his own order. "Come on, there's a bench."

He guides you further down the street to the bench near the pole. He sits first, then you do. He's calm as you're ready to combust.

"I'm so so sorry," you murmur. "I saw... I don't know."

"It's alright," he drawls and he pulls back the wrapper, "Bucky. You, doll?"

You look between him and the man who wanders closer to the hot dog cart. You swallow and look to your saviour. Well, so far. You give your name.

He nods and bites into his hot dog. You do the same if only to stave off the awkwardness. What were you thinking? You've gone and ruined his life too.

You wince as you sense the creep lurking nearer and nearer. Why won't he stop?

Bucky takes the napkin away from the bottom of the wrapper and wipes his mouth. He curls the wrapper over his hot dog and offers it to you. "Hold this for a sec, alright, doll?"

You take it in confusion. He stands and cracks his knuckles. That shiny glove isn't a glove. It's his hand.

As the creep get closer to the bin a few feet from the bench, Bucky grabs him by his jacket. He shakes him and snarls, lifting him to his toes. He growls but you can't make out his words. The man who followed you goes pale and wriggles. Bucky lets him go. The errant passenger staggers off, nearly stepping into the path of a taxi.

Bucky returns and sits down casually. He holds his hand out and you give him back his hot dog. You stare at your own.

"Thank you. You didn't... have to..."

"That guy was a really cretin." He shrugs. "Can't complain for buying a cute girl a dog."

"Oh, uh, yes, thanks. Again. That's... I have change."

You reach for your purse and he clucks, "don't go and do that. My mom didn't raise me like that."

"Uh, yes, sorry. I wasn't meaning to be... ungrateful."

"Don't gotta be sorry," he sits back.

You bite into your hot dog and silently chew. You were hungry before but it isn't bad. Especially for street meat. Your eyes fall to his hand. He wiggles his fingers.

"It's an upgrade, really," he extends his metal digits to show you.

"I... wasn't meaning to stare."

"It is what it is," he crumples up his wrapper. "Just gotta deal with people hounding me."

"Hounding you?" You tilt your head.

His cheek dimples, "you don't... don't know who I am?"

You think and shake your head. "Sorry, sir."

"Sir? Please," he waves you off. "It's fine."

"Bucky... that's your name." You remember what the vendor called him.

"Sure is," he replies.

"I never heard... no, I don't know," you push your lower lip out.

"Kinda refreshing," he drawls. "Well, doll, thanks for the lunch date," he stands and rolls his shoulders, "want me to walk you to wherever you're headed?"

"Oh, no, I can't ask for that. It's just a block down."

"I don't mind," he says.

You stand and nibble on the last of the bun. You swallow. "Please, I... I'm okay." You look down and up again, "thanks to you."

His mouth curves, just a little, "if.... you really feel like you owe me, which I'm not saying you do, but... maybe I could get your number."

You flutter your lashes. He's asking for your number. Wow. You don't think anyone's ever done that.

"Yeah uh," you press your hand full of bun to your purse and pull open the zipper. You slip out your phone and unlock it. You hold it out to him, "sorry, I can't... type."

"No problem, doll," he accepts it and keys in his number. "Bit of advice, though," he reaches to slide the cell back into your bag, "don't be handing this out to just anyone." He zips up the bag. "I could've been down the block by now."

You make and O with your lips, "oh, I'm..."

"Don't be sorry," he insists. "I'll call you."

"Sure."

"And you'll answer?"

"Of course," you make a face.

"Just wanna make sure," he says. "You have a good day. Oh, and the next time you got some creep on your heels, call me."

You nod and try to smile. You're still a bit shaky but you feel better. You think you can trust him. He saved you after all.

💘

The water spits at you and you back away from the stove. You adjust the dial as you squeak. That burner is crooked and the flames lick ravenously at the small pot. As you try to keep the fire under control, your phone buzzes. Usually there's a short vibe but this is incessant.

You scramble to grab it before the call times out. You tap answer before you can check the ID. You huff breathlessly, "hello?"

"Doll? Everything okay?" The familiar voice greets with concern. It takes a moment to click. It's been a few days since your run-in.

"Yeah, I'm... cooking dinner," you put him on speaker as you go back to the stove.

"Ah, I'm interrupting," he intones.

"It's... okay," you place the phone carefully against the toaster and let it stand. You grab the bag of noodles and pour them into the water. It splashes you and you cheep again.

"Doll?" He rasps.

"I'm fine. Just... clumsy," you affirm. You don't know what to say.

"How are you doing?" He asks. You're happy for his guidance.

"Okay. Tired. How about you?"

"Better now I'm talking to you. Sorry, I couldn't call sooner. I was out of town. Work." He explains.

"Oh, it's... it's fine. Everyone's busy."

He snorts softly, "you are too much, doll. Just too... too much."

"I am?" You wonder. 

The line scuffs as he moves around, "you're not afraid of me, are ya?" He asks. "Did you look me up then?"

"Afraid? Uh, no. No, I didn't..." To be honest, you tried to forget running from that guy from the subway.

"No? Most girls... not that I know many, they do. Don't stick around long."

"Um, right, er, I didn't... look you up. I just... I've been working."

"Course, doll. I know. You're a good girl. It's why you found me. To keep the bad guys away," he cooes.

You stir the noodles with a wooden spoon. You stare at the phone, trying to unravel his words.

"So, I was thinking, tomorrow, Friday, you busy?"

"Not after five," you shrug.

"Perfect. I was thinking something fancy for the first date."

You're quiet as you scrunch up your brow. "Date?"

He laughs, "why'd you think I asked for your number?"

You sniff, "mm, I thought maybe you were being nice."

He thinks that's funny too as he chuckles once more.

"Oh, I can't wait to be nice to you, doll. And more," he purrs. "I'm sure you'll pick out something real special to wear too."

"I... I'll find something," you eke out as your heart flutters. 

A date? You're really not prepared for that; just like that guy on the train.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you, doll," he promises. "Just like I did before."

[guardianjameslight]

I love the difference between Alexei's viewing of Bucky in MCU:

In What If S3, he's like, "He's not even a real Russian."

In Thunderbolts, he's like, "It's the Winter Soldier. That guy, so cool. "

[five-milfs-and-a-twink]

Next Captain American movie needs to be Sam and Bucky just trying to keep that heroic little shit by the name of Joaquin Torres alive.

He would 1000% remind them both of Steve.

but especially Bucky who had to deal with pre-serum righteous chihuahua Steve.

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[shybluebirdninja]

Ownership

Summary: You agreed to one night, but Bucky has other plans, making it clear he’s going to keep you—and he wants you carrying his baby.

Pairings           : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Note               : non-consensual behavior, forced pregnancy

The air in the room is heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky stands in the doorway, his massive frame dominating the space, eyes dark and predatory. He’s watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. It’s unsettling how calm he is, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he knows exactly how this is going to play out.

“Why you standin’ over there like you got a choice, doll?” His voice is low, gravelly, and it hits you straight in the chest. “C’mere.”

You hesitate, trying to remember the rules you both set. One night. That’s it. But the look in his eyes says different. There’s no way you’re walking out of here without something much heavier hanging over you—without him making sure his mark on you is permanent.

“I said, come here,” Bucky’s tone darkens, a rough edge creeping in, and your body reacts before your brain does, your feet moving toward him. His metal arm reaches out, pulling you flush against his chest, and fuck, the heat coming off him makes your pulse race.

“I’m not letting you go, y’know that, right?” His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “This ain’t some casual thing. You’re mine. And I’m gonna make sure you know it.”

His hand slides down your back, rough fingertips brushing against the bare skin under your shirt, making you shiver. He smirks when he feels it, gripping your waist harder, like he owns every inch of you. In his mind, he does.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Shh,” he growls, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Make sure it sticks this time. You’re not walkin’ outta here without somethin’ of mine.”

You can feel the power in his body as he presses against you, the steel in his grip, and the raw desire pouring off him in waves. You try to push back, but his grip tightens, his metal hand circling around your throat—enough to hurt, enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“You agreed to one night,” he whispers, lips dragging over your skin, teasing. “But I’m not a man of half-measures, sweetheart. You’re not leaving here until I’ve put a baby in you. Until I know I’ve claimed you for good.”

Your heart pounds, his words sinking deep into your bones.

“You... you don’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t gotta do a damn thing. But I want to.” His lips curl into a smirk, and he lifts you off the ground like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the bed. The room spins for a second, and then you’re beneath him, pinned by his weight, his hands already working to pull your clothes off, rough and demanding.

His lips crash into yours, claiming, devouring, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss as his tongue pushes past your lips. His hands grip the waistband of your jeans, yanking them down without a care, shredding any barriers between you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, running his hands over your now-bare thighs, squeezing, as if memorizing the shape of you. “Gonna ruin you, doll. Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

You’re panting, barely able to think straight as his mouth trails down your body, his breath hot against your skin. His metal arm holds you in place, cold against the burning heat coursing through you, while his other hand grips your thighs, spreading them apart like it’s his goddamn right.

“You like this, don’t you?” he teases, voice dripping with that rough, dominant tone. “You like the way I fuckin’ own you.”

His fingers tease you for only a second before he thrusts them inside, rough and unrelenting, stretching you out in a way that makes you arch your back, a cry ripping from your throat.

“Bucky!”

“That’s right, baby,” he smirks, his fingers working faster, deeper, curling inside you just to hear you scream again. “You’re fuckin’ mine.”

He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with himself, pushing into you with a rough, demanding thrust that has you seeing stars. Every muscle in his body is taut, coiled with tension, and you can feel how fucking hungry he is for you. The pace is slow at first, teasing, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he loses control.

“You think I’m gonna let you go after this?” he growls, his hips snapping against yours, hard and rough. “Nah, baby. You’re stuck with me. Gonna fill you up until you’re pregnant. You’re gonna carry my kid, and I’m gonna make sure of it.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips, the way your body responds to his every move. He’s relentless, his pace brutal, pounding into you like it’s the only thing that matters, and in this moment, it is.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. “So tight. You’re gonna take every fuckin’ inch of me, and you’re gonna thank me when I’m done.”

You can barely breathe, barely think as he keeps thrusting into you, harder, deeper, making sure you feel every inch of him. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make you mine in every fuckin’ way. You’re gonna carry my kid, and you’re gonna love every second of it.”

You can feel yourself unraveling beneath him, your body tightening around him as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You shatter beneath him, your body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you like a wave, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He just keeps fucking you, riding you through your orgasm, determined to make this last.

When he finally lets go, he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you, and you can feel the hot rush of his release as he fills you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough and breathless. “Now you’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (i) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky’s birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa….

word count: 6.6k

warnings: its just fluff, secret birthday planning & a lot of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. i’m thinking of making it a three part series.

masterlist | next part

Steve Rogers looked across the table at you, arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. The room felt warm and quiet despite the weight of the conversation, the faint hum of Stark Tech monitors filling the silence as your words lingered in the air.

Sam Wilson sat across from you, leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in mild skepticism, but there was something softer in his expression—something almost amused.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sam began, tilting his head toward you. “Your brilliant idea for Bucky’s birthday is to—what—borrow Tony’s time machine, go back to the 1940s, and hang out with his family?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the edge of the table. Your voice had a determined edge, but your eyes betrayed a flicker of nervous energy. “I mean… think about it, Sam. When was the last time Bucky had a real family celebration? A moment where he wasn’t running from Hydra or fighting for his life or—” you paused, chewing your bottom lip—“feeling like he’s some kind of burden on the people around him?”

Steve straightened in his chair, his sharp blue eyes shifting from Sam to you. There was a stillness to him, like he was processing your words as if they were mission intel. “You’re not wrong,” he said finally, his voice calm but measured. “But it’s not exactly simple. Time travel isn’t… well, it’s not just a weekend getaway.”

“I know that,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he could build up steam. “I know it’s not simple, Steve, but it’s worth it. You know what this would mean to him. To see his mom & sisters, Steve. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as well, as a slow grin spread across his face. “Y’know,” he said, pointing a finger at you, “I thought this idea was crazy at first, but now I’m starting to think you’re just crazy enough to pull it off. The question is, how do you convince Stark to hand over the keys to his fancy time machine?”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan for that,” you said, brushing off Sam’s teasing tone with a wave of your hand. “Tony owes me. Big time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” You smirked, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression. “Let’s just say it involves a highly classified Avengers mission, a stray cat, and one very expensive pair of Tony’s sunglasses.”

Sam barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Okay, now I definitely want to know.”

“It’s not important!” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. “The point is, I can get Tony on board. But I need you two to back me up. He’s not going to go for this unless he knows it’s not just some ‘sentimental whim.’” You air-quoted the words dramatically, your voice dropping into a passable imitation of Stark’s dry tone.

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that said he was almost convinced but still holding out for the catch. “Let’s say you get Tony to agree. How exactly are you planning to make this work? The timeline has rules. You can’t just drop in on the 1940s like it’s a costume party.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that. Look, I’ve been thinking this through. We’d be careful. In and out, no interference with the timeline. Just… a quiet visit with his family. Maybe a week, max. Enough time for him to have a real birthday celebration. I mean, wouldn’t you want that if you were in his shoes?”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze settling on a spot on the wall. For a moment, the room went quiet. Sam exchanged a glance with you, his humor softening into something more thoughtful. Steve’s voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but firm. “Yeah. I would.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out across the table, your hand brushing against Steve’s. “Then you understand why this is so important. He’s been through so much, Steve. We all know that. He deserves to feel important.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re laying it on thick. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re whipped for the guy.”

Your face went red, but you didn’t back down. “Of course I’m whipped for him Sam, I’m in love with him. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Steve and Sam both froze, their expressions caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

Steve blinked, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, his voice low, “I can’t argue with that.”

Sam recovered first, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re really pulling the romance card, huh?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your voice. “Are you in or not?”

Sam laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m in, I’m in. You had me at ‘time machine.’”

Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “But we do this by the book. No cutting corners, no unnecessary risks. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said quickly, your eyes bright with excitement. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.”

“Alright, so what’s the next step? Do we just march into Stark Tower and ask Tony for a favour.” Sam clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Because I’ve gotta say, I don’t think the guy’s gonna go for it without some serious persuasion.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’ve got a plan.”

Later that evening, the three of you stood in Tony’s lab, the soft glow of holographic displays casting blue light across the room. Tony Stark was pacing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” he said, stopping mid-stride to look at you. “You want me to loan you my multi-billion-dollar time travel machine so you can throw a birthday party in the 1940s?”

“Not just a party,” you corrected, your tone matter-of-fact. “A family reunion. For Bucky.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You know, when I built this thing, I had slightly higher ambitions in mind. Like, oh, I don’t know, saving the universe?”

“This is saving the universe,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “His universe.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s important, Tony. For Bucky. He hasn’t seen his family since the war. This would mean everything to him.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You people really know how to tug at the ol’ heartstrings, don’t you?”

Sam smirked. “Comes with the territory.”

There was a long pause, and then Tony shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But if you break it, you buy it. And by ‘it,’ I mean the space-time continuum.”

You beamed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room had brightened. “Thank you, Tony. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving you off. “Just don’t make me regret it. And keep Rogers out of trouble while you’re at it. Don’t want him to end up fighting someone in the alley.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He had a feeling this was going to be one birthday Bucky would never forget.

That evening, the living room of the Avengers Compound had never felt so cramped. Steve sat in his usual spot, his arms stretched over the back of the couch, trying to look casual while his stomach twisted with the weight of your not-so-secretive plan.

Next to him, you perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, your knee bouncing nervously as your eyes flicked between the TV and Sam. The movie playing on the screen was some action flick that none of you were actually watching—except maybe Bucky, who was obliviously sprawled out on the recliner, munching on popcorn.

Steve couldn’t help but glance at Bucky every few seconds, half expecting him to suddenly leap up and call their bluff. It was a ridiculous fear, considering how utterly relaxed Bucky seemed, but it didn’t stop Steve’s heart from racing every time Bucky so much as turned his head.

Sam, seated on the armrest of the couch, leaned over toward you and murmured under his breath, his tone just loud enough for Steve to catch. “So, what’s the next move, mastermind?”

Your lips twitched into a quick, nervous smile as you shot him a sideways glance. “We need to talk to Strange,” you whispered, your voice low but brimming with determination. “But we have to be careful. Bucky can’t know. Not even a hint.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and slouched slightly, doing his best impression of someone who actually cared about the car chase on the screen.

“Can you two stop whispering?” Steve whispered yelled, though his voice lacked any real authority. He reached for the remote, fiddling with the volume button and turned it up. “If you’re going to conspire, at least don’t do it two feet away from him.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “What do you want us to do, Steve? Write notes and pass them like we’re in fifth grade?”

Sam smirked, leaning closer to you. “I mean, it might be safer. He’s got super-hearing. For all we know, he’s—”

“Sam,” Steve cut in, his tone warning, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not helping.”

Bucky, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him, let out a low chuckle at something on the screen. Steve froze, his eyes darting to you, and you looked like you were about to jump out of your skin. Your eyes flicked back to Sam, then to Steve, your expression screaming this is impossible.

“Alright, alright,” Sam said quietly, lifting his hands in surrender. “Let’s just get out of here before you two have a nervous breakdown. We can go talk to Strange.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the excuse to move things along. “Good idea,” he said, standing and stretching like he’d just remembered an urgent errand. “We’ll, uh, be back in a bit, Buck.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked casually, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You froze, your face an open book of panic, and Steve jumped in before you could flounder. “Oh, uh… just running an errand. These two are just tagging along for backup.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, finally turning his attention away from the movie to look at you. “Backup? For what?”

“Moral support?” you stated hesitantly.

Sam snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement before he covered it up with a cough.

Bucky gave you all a skeptical once-over but eventually shrugged, settling back into his chair. “Whatever. Just don’t die out there.”

“Got it,” you blurted, grabbing Sam’s arm and practically dragging him toward the door. Steve followed, his stomach knotting tighter with every step.

The three of you didn’t speak until you were outside and halfway to Steve’s SUV.

Sam finally broke the silence with a low whistle. “That was smooth. Real smooth.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks still flushed. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Sam replied, grinning as he climbed into the back seat.

Steve rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door for you to get in & sit, his patience already wearing thin.

Once you were on the road, the tension in the car started to ease, though Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line. You sat beside him, fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you stared out the window. You looked nervous but determined, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Steve studied you for a moment, his mind drifting to all the times he’d seen that same look on your face. It was the look you got when you were planning something big—something you believed in with your whole heart. He couldn’t help but admire you for it, even if it made him nervous.

“So,” Sam said, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his seat, “what’s the game plan with Strange? You gonna sweet-talk him like you did with Stark?”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the window to look at Sam. “I don’t think Strange is the ‘sweet-talk’ type.”

“Good point,” Sam said with a grin. “So what’s the backup plan? Bribery? Begging? Threats?”

“None of the above,” you said firmly. “I’m just going to explain the plan and hope he understands.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No clever strategy? No emotional appeals? You’re really putting all your eggs in the ‘logic and reason’ basket?”

Steve cut in before you could retort. “She’s right. Strange isn’t the kind of guy you can manipulate. He’ll respect honesty.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. You were stubborn, sure, but you were also smart—smarter than you gave yourself credit for sometimes.

When you arrived outside the Sanctum Sanctorum, you were the first to get out of the car, despite the nervous energy radiating off you. Steve followed close behind, with Sam bringing up the rear, muttering something under his breath about “mystical nonsense.”

Stephan Strange greeted you at the door, his expression unreadable as always. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, the red of his cloak catching the door light in a way that made him look almost regal.

“This better be important,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I don’t have time for casual visits.”

You stepped forward, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. “It is important. I promise.”

Strange raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the two men behind you. “Alright. Come in.”

The inside of the Sanctum was just as strange and imposing as Steve remembered. You seemed unfazed, though he noticed you glancing around with a mix of curiosity and awe.

“So,” Strange said once you were seated in his study, “what’s this all about?”

You took a deep breath, your hands resting in your lap. “I want to use the time travel machine Tony built to take Bucky back to the 1940s for his birthday.”

Strange blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “That’s… specific.”

“It’s important,” you said quickly, leaning forward slightly. “I just want him to have a chance to see his family again. To know they’re okay. And I promise we won’t do anything to change the timeline. No interference, no big disruptions. Just… a visit.”

Strange studied you for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re asking me to approve a plan that involves traveling to the past and interacting with people who are supposed to remain unaware of future events. Do you understand how delicate this is?”

“I do,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’ve thought it through. The only thing I plan to do is explain to his family what happened to him—why he disappeared. They deserve to know he’s okay, even if they never see him again. And when I bring him there, it’ll just be for a week. A chance for him to see his family once.”

Strange’s gaze flicked to Steve, then to Sam, as if gauging their reactions. “And you’re both on board with this?”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my birthday, but if it makes Bucky happy, I’m all for it.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It’s risky, but I trust her. She won’t let anything happen to the timeline.”

“You’re lucky I’ve seen weirder requests.” Strange said letting out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. As long as you stick to your word and don’t try to rewrite history, I won’t stop you.”

Your face lit up, and Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. Strange wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, but he’d clearly seen something in your determination that convinced him.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Strange waved you off, his tone dry as usual. “Just don’t make me regret it. And for the love of all things sacred, don’t try to save Barnes from falling of the train in the past. You’ll just make things worse.”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly. “This is about giving him something good now, not changing what’s already happened.”

“Good,” Strange said, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Now get out of my Sanctum before I change my mind.”

As you walked back to the car, your steps were lighter, almost bouncing. You turned to Steve and Sam, a wide grin on your face. “That went better than I expected.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, thanks to your sales pitch.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t lose your smile. For the first time all day, you felt a genuine sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this plan was going to work.

Okay, see the thing was Steve had witnessed his fair share of devotion in his lifetime. He had seen love in wartime letters clutched tightly in trembling hands, in quiet glances exchanged across rooms, and even in the sacrifices people made for each other on the battlefield.

But nothing—not in the 1940s, not in the decades since—compared to the sheer, shameless fervor of your love for Bucky Barnes.

He leaned back against the counter of the kitchen, arms crossed, as he watched you chatter animatedly with Sam and Natasha, your eyes alight with that unmistakable spark. You had this way of talking about Bucky that made it impossible not to notice the utter adoration woven into your every word.

It wasn’t just love; it was full-blown, unapologetic obsession.

“And then,” you said, your hands moving wildly as you recounted some small, undoubtedly inconsequential moment, “he just sat there, all broody, like he was single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. And I said, ‘Bucky, you don’t have to pretend to be a tortured poet every time it rains!’” You grinned, clearly delighted with your own story. “He didn’t laugh, of course, but I swear I saw his lip twitch.”

Natasha smirked, sipping her coffee. “Sounds like a real charmer.”

“Oh, he is,” you said, beaming as though Nat’s comment had been an actual compliment. “You just have to get past the murdery vibe, you know? It’s all part of his charm.”

Sam snorted so loudly that Steve thought he might choke on his drink. “Murdery vibe? That’s the phrase you’re going with to describe your boyfriend?”

“It’s accurate!” you insisted, unbothered by the teasing. “You just don’t understand him the way I do. Beneath all that scowling and brooding, he’s—”

“A ray of sunshine?” Natasha interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” you said brightly, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, again. “He’s my sunshine.”

Steve suppressed a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved you—he really did—but hearing you wax poetic about his grumpy, perpetually unimpressed best friend was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t the first time, either. In fact, it was a near-daily occurrence.

What astounded Steve the most, though, was how far you were willing to go for Bucky.

Time Travel.

Literal time travel, just so Bucky could have one good birthday with the family he’d lost decades ago. Steve wasn’t sure if it was romantic or utterly insane—probably a mix of both. Either way, he couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“So,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “how’s the time travel plan coming along? Did Strange give you the green light?”

“Green as it gets,” you said, practically bouncing in your seat. “He said it wouldn’t mess up the timeline as long as we’re careful. I mean, no big hero moves, no trying to rewrite history, and definitely no saving Bucky in the past.” You paused, your face briefly clouding with thought. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, but you know… rules.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Man, you really would mess with the space-time continuum for him, wouldn’t you?”

You turned to him, your expression dead serious. “In a heartbeat.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the sound low and amused. “Y’know, I’ve seen people go to some crazy lengths for the people they love, but this…” He gestured vaguely, as if words couldn’t quite capture the enormity of your plan. “This might take the cake.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “Steve, if you could go back and give Peggy one more dance, wouldn’t you?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, his chest tightening as the image of Peggy Carter flickered in his mind. He didn’t answer right away, but you didn’t push him. You just gave him a knowing look, your eyes full of understanding.

“Alright, fine,” Nat cut in, breaking the heavy silence. “Let’s not get all sentimental. You still have one problem, genius. Tony Stark. What’s the plan for getting him on board?”

“We already got Tony on board,” you said smugly, folding your arms as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You? You convinced Tony Stark to let you borrow his precious time machine?”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “I just told him it was for Bucky’s birthday, and he rolled his eyes and said, ‘Fine, but if you break it, you’re paying for it.’ Honestly, I think he secretly likes the idea. He’d never admit it, but you know how he is.”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Sam, her expression halfway between impressed and incredulous. “I can’t believe Stark fell for that.”

“Oh, he didn’t ‘fall for it,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just pretends to be all grumpy and detached, but deep down, he’s a big softie.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Man, I think you’ve got a thing for grumpy guys.”

“Only one grumpy guy,” you said, your smile softening. “And he’s worth it.”

Steve looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t used to seeing someone care about Bucky like this—someone who saw him as more than just the Winter Soldier or the guy with a past too dark to talk about.

You saw Bucky. The real Bucky. And you loved him for it.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony strolled in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “What’s all this about me being a softie?” he asked, his tone dry as he leaned against the counter.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re a grumpy softie. Big difference.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, I’d revoke your time-travel privileges.”

“Softie,” you said, waving him off.

Tony smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention to Steve. “So, Captain Sentimental, are you ready to supervise this little field trip? Because I am not cleaning up any timeline messes.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?”

Tony looked you over, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re really doing all this for Barnes?”

You nodded, your eyes shining. “He deserves it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, his usual sarcasm melting away. “Well, good luck, sunshine. Try not to get too lost in the 1940s.”

As Tony left the room, the conversation drifted to logistics—timing, equipment, and all the little details that needed to be ironed out before the mission. But even as you talked, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said.

Sunshine.

Steve glanced at you, watching as you leaned over a map on the table, your brow furrowed in concentration. You might not have realized it, but Tony was right. You really were a ray of sunshine—Bucky’s sunshine, in the darkest corners of his life.

And for that, Steve couldn’t be more grateful.

A few hours later, Steve sat on a folding chair, leaning back slightly as he gazed at the clear night sky. The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint hum of the compound below and the soft rustling of the wind.

Beside him, Bucky nursed a beer, his metal fingers absently turning the bottle in his hand, the soft clink of metal on glass barely audible. Sam was sprawled out in another chair, his legs stretched long, an empty bottle balanced precariously on his knee.

The silence was companionable, broken only by the occasional sip or the muffled sound of Sam muttering about how the stars weren’t visible like this back in D.C. Steve let himself relax for a moment, the crisp air cool against his skin. But, as usual, his thoughts wandered to you and your relentless energy over the past few weeks.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head toward Bucky, “your girlfriend is disgustingly obsessed with you.”

Bucky choked on his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed the wrong way. “What?” he said, laughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Steve smirked, taking a sip from his bottle. “I’m just saying. It’s impressive, honestly. I’ve never seen anyone so… determined to adore someone.”

“Yeah, man. She’s got it bad. Like, embarrassing bad.” Sam laughed outright, his deep chuckle rolling into the night.

Bucky leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head, the grin softening into something fonder. “She’s been like that since day one. But hey, I can’t say much—I’m just as bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Sam said, raising his bottle in mock toast. “Two of you are a real power couple of mutual obsession.”

Bucky just chuckled, his eyes flicking up toward the sky as silence fell over the group again. Steve let it linger, his thoughts wandering to how Bucky’s face softened every time you entered a room, or how his mood lifted when you were around. It was a strange thing to see—the hardened Winter Soldier so easily disarmed by one person—but Steve couldn’t deny how much you had changed Bucky.

Maybe even saved him.

After a few minutes, Bucky spoke up, his voice quieter now. “She’s planning something, isn’t she?”

Sam, mid-sip, choked on his beer, his coughing fit loud enough to make Steve wince. “What?” Sam rasped, pounding a fist against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, keeping his face neutral despite the mild panic rising in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Bucky turned to him, his expression amused. “Oh, come on, Steve. She’s been vibrating with energy for weeks. Every time she looks at me, she lights up brighter than the damn sun. She’s up to something.”

Steve fought to keep his expression steady, his mind racing for an answer. He couldn’t exactly tell Bucky the truth—that you were plotting a time-traveling birthday reunion with his long-dead family. Instead, he opted for the simplest approach: deflect. “Could be just a coincidence.”

Wow Steve well done, what a deflect. Idiot!

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, because her suddenly acting like a kid on Christmas has nothing to do with the fact that my birthday’s coming up.”

Steve’s lips twitched. He wanted to feel annoyed at how sharp Bucky could be, but mostly he was impressed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. Maybe she’s just excited.”

Sam cleared his throat, raising his hands as if in surrender. “Listen, man, I love my life, so I’m not spilling anything. But if she’s planning something, it’s probably just a good old-fashioned birthday party. Cake, candles, maybe some embarrassing speeches. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve nodded, grateful for Sam’s quick thinking. “Exactly. Nothing big. She probably just wants to make it special.”

Bucky studied them both for a moment, his blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I know she’s up to something.”

Steve exhaled, letting some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Bucky didn’t know. Not really. And as long as they kept playing it cool, he wouldn’t find out until the time was right.

That was when they heard it: your voice, ringing out from somewhere below, loud and unmistakable. “Baby! Come down, I need your help with something!”

Sam froze, his bottle halfway to his lips, before glancing at Bucky with a grin that was entirely too pleased. “Baby, huh?”

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She had to call you that now?”

Bucky’s grin stretched wide, his expression a mix of amusement and pride. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, his voice louder than yours. “I’ll be down in a minute, babydoll!”

Steve closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. A six-foot-three super soldier—grumpy, broody, intimidating Bucky Barnes—was casually calling you “babydoll” in front of them like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sam, predictably, couldn’t contain his laughter. “Babydoll?” he repeated, his voice cracking with amusement. “Man, I’ve heard it all now.”

Bucky shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “What can I say? She likes it.”

“And you like her calling you ‘baby,’” Steve added, his tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“Damn right I do,” Bucky said, standing up and stretching. “You two can sit up here and laugh all you want, but I’ve got a girl waiting for me. Try not to get too jealous.”

As he disappeared down the stairs, Sam turned to Steve, still grinning. “You know,” he said, shaking his head, “for a guy who used to be Hydra’s deadliest weapon, he’s real soft now.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got someone who loves you like she does.”

Sam nodded, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s good for him.”

Steve looked out at the stars, his mind drifting again. He couldn’t help but agree. For the first time in a long time, Bucky had someone who saw him—not as a soldier or a weapon, but as a man worth loving. And that, Steve thought, was the best gift anyone could ever give him.

Somewhere in 1946, Brooklyn.

The modest brownstone on Brooklyn’s east side stood in quiet defiance of the bustling world around it. Mrs. Winnifred Barnes—Winnie to her late husband and close friends—sat at the small kitchen table, her hands folded tightly together, a pot of tea growing cold on the counter. The house was too quiet now, emptier than it had ever been. Rebecca was at school, and though she tried to keep the chatter alive when she was home, it couldn’t fill the void left behind by James.

Her boy.

It had been several months since the letter arrived, stamped with the insignia of the United States Army. The words blurred in her mind even now, but the message was clear: Missing in Action. Presumed Dead.

Her James. Her troublemaker, her beautiful boy with his wide grin and steady blue eyes. Gone. And no one could even tell her how, or where, or if he’d suffered.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers curling tighter. Every time she thought she had no more tears left to cry, the ache returned, fresh and sharp as ever. But this time, something else lingered—a strange sense of unease, like the air had shifted. It was quiet, but not in the usual way.

Something was coming.

The knock at the door startled her. It was brisk, not hesitant like the neighbors checking in or the pastor bringing by a casserole. Winnie frowned, wiping her hands on her apron as she rose. Her steps were measured, careful, as though the visitor might vanish if she approached too quickly.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a sight that immediately threw her off balance. The young woman standing there looked as though she had stepped out of some dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

Your clothes were strange, fitted in ways Winnie couldn’t quite comprehend, and your hair was loose and flowing in a style that seemed almost scandalous. But it was your eyes that caught Winnie most—a peculiar mix of softness and urgency.

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked, your voice steady but kind.

Winnie hesitated, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Who’s asking?”

You smiled faintly, “I… I need to speak with you. It’s about James.”

Winnie’s heart clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. “James?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“May I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle but insistent. “I promise it’ll make sense. I just need a moment of your time.”

Winnie hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping aside. Something in your voice—or perhaps the way you said James’ name—demanded trust, though it made no sense at all.

The kitchen felt smaller with you standing there, your presence filling the room in a way Winnie couldn’t quite explain. She gestured toward the table, and you sat down without hesitation, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Winnie remained standing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as though bracing herself.

“What do you know about my son?” Winnie asked, her voice firmer now, tinged with suspicion. “The Army already sent their letter. Unless you’re here with new information—”

“I am. There’s something you should know.” you interrupted, your eyes meeting Winnie’s with unwavering determination. “I know this is going to come as a shock but Mrs. Barnes, James isn’t dead.”

The words landed like a bombshell, shattering the fragile quiet of the room. Winnie felt her knees threaten to buckle, but she forced herself to stand tall. “What did you say?”

“He’s alive,” you said softly. “It’s a long story, and I know it’s going to sound… unbelievable. But I promise you, every word is true.”

Winnie sank into the chair opposite you, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain you could hear it. “You’d better start talking, young lady.”

You nodded, your hands tightening briefly on the edge of the table before you began. “When James fell from the train, he survived the fall. But… he didn’t come home because Hydra found him first.”

“Hydra?” Winnie repeated, frowning.

“They were… they are… a very bad group of people,” you explained, your voice tightening. “They were part of the war, working in secret. When they found James, they… they took him. He was badly injured—he lost his left arm—but they didn’t care about helping him. They used him.”

Winnie’s throat went dry, her chest tightening painfully. “Used him? For what?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your words pressing visibly on your shoulders. “They replaced his arm with a metal one. And then… they brainwashed him. They erased who he was and turned him into someone else. They forced him to do terrible things—things he would never have done if he’d had a choice.”

Winnie stared at you, her hands trembling. “You’re telling me… my boy’s been alive all this time, and he’s been… tortured?”

“It’s worse than that,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “They put him in cryo-freeze, a kind of suspended animation. It keeps the body from aging. They would wake him up every now and then, make him do their missions, and then put him back on ice. He was never in control, Mrs. Barnes. Not once.”

The room seemed to tilt, and Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand. If all this is true, why hasn’t he come home? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

“He couldn’t,” you said softly. “Not until recently. But now… now he’s free. He’s safe. And I wanted you to know that.”

Winnie shook her head, disbelief and hope warring in her chest. “How do you know all of this? Who are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m from the future. From 2025.”

Winnie stared at you, waiting for you to laugh, to smile and admit it was all some elaborate joke. But your face remained serious, your eyes filled with an honesty Winnie couldn’t deny. “The future,” she repeated faintly.

“Yes,” you said. “I know how it sounds. But it’s true. I came back to tell you about James because… because you deserve to know.”

Winnie leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. None of it made sense, and yet something about your voice, your demeanor, made it impossible to dismiss you entirely. “If you’re from the future,” she said slowly, “then tell me something else. Tell me about… Steven Rogers.”

Your expression softened. “He’s alive too.”

Winnie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No.”

“He is,” you said, your voice gentle. “He survived when he put the plane down in the water. They found him 70 years later, frozen in the ice, but alive. Just like James.”

Winnie felt tears welling up in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. “They’re both alive,” she whispered. “My boys are alive.”

“Yes,” you said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “And they’re together. Living in Brooklyn. James is free, Mrs. Barnes. He’s been pardoned for everything Hydra made him do, and he’s a hero now. People love him.”

Winnie’s breath hitched, a sob breaking free from her chest. She clutched your hand tightly, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “He’s safe. He’s happy.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Winnie allowed herself to believe it. Her boy was alive. And somehow, impossibly, everything was going to be okay.

Winnie’s hands, now resting limply on her lap, still trembled with the weight of what she’d been told. She didn’t know where to begin. What question could possibly make sense of the impossible? How could you, so composed and confident, sit there and tell her these outlandish, earth-shattering truths as though they were simple facts?

Her James.

Alive. Free. Safe.

But at what cost?

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. Your voice was patient, a warm balm against the storm raging in Winnie’s chest. “I know this is a lot to take in. If you need me to explain anything again, I’m happy to.”

Winnie blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus. Her hands twisted together in her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “You’re telling me my son’s been alive all this time… suffering, being used like some kind of—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, unable to finish the thought. “How could anyone do that to him?”

Your face softened, your expression filled with sympathy. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “Hydra is… they were ruthless. They didn’t see him as a person. They saw him as a weapon. But he’s not like that anymore. He’s found his way back to himself.”

Winnie’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know all of this? You’ve never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

To Be Continued….

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 67: Forever

Warnings: major character death, grief and loss, emotional vulnerability, light sexual themes, mental strain

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

The atmosphere around Tony Stark’s lakeside cabin was thick with a sombre quietness, broken only by the soft rustling of the trees and distant murmur of the lake’s gentle waves. The sky, a pale canvas of grey, seemed to reflect the collective sorrow of those gathered.

Pepper stood at the edge of the porch, her eyes brimming with unspoken grief, symbolized so much – love, loss, and the legacy of a man who had changed the world. As the group of loved ones watched silently, Pepper took one last look at it before gently lowering it into the water. Resting atop the wreath, framed against the greenery, was the arc reactor – Tony’s first. The words etched beneath it, Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart, seemed to carry a weight of their own now.

As the wreath slowly drifted on the water’s surface, Alice stood at Bucky’s side, her hand tightly clutching his arm. She had been numb for day, the grief still too fresh, too raw. But here, at the funeral, surrounded by those who had loved Tony in their own ways, she felt the weight of her loss settle deeper into her chest. Tony had been more than a friend, more than a mentor. He had been family, and now, he was gone.

Her fingers tightened around Bucky’s arm, seeking the comfort of his presence. His warmth was a grounding force for her – something she clung to, needing it more than she ever had before. She didn’t look at him, afraid that if she did, the flood of tears she had been holding back would break loose. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the wreath, watching it float out farther into the lake.

Pepper stood still, her eyes fixed on the retreating wreath, her face a mask of quiet grief. Beside her, Morgan’s small hand rested on her mother’s, her tiny fingers gripping with the innocence of someone who couldn’t fully understand the depth of the loss. Happy Hogan stood close by, his face twisted in pain, his hand resting on his knee as if steadying himself from the weight of the world. Rhodey stood next to him, his posture rigid, but his eyes – eyes that had seen so much – were soft with sorrow.

The rest of the gathering stood in silent reverence. Steve, Peter, and May were a little apart, Steve’s broad shoulders slumped in quiet mourning. Peter’s face was pale, his eyes reddened, as if he had been holding back tears for days. May stood beside him, her arms wrapped around him, trying to shield him from the weight of it all. Thor’s presence loomed largen than life, his eyes cast downward, remembering the friendship he had shared with Tony. Beside him stood Bruce and Doctor Strange, both trying to make sense of a world that felt a little less bright without Tony in it.

Wong was nearby, his face unreadable, but his posture stiff as if he were holding himself together by sheer will. Scott and Hope stood together, their fingers intertwined, their eyes distant, as if they were trying to find some sort of peace in a world that no longer made sense. Janet, Hank, and Peter Quill stood with them, all of them quietly reflecting on the man who had meant so much to each of them in different ways.

The rest of the gathered team was just as solemn: T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri stood together, their stoic faces betraying no emotion, but their eyes sharp with the grief they couldn’t hide. Clint, surrounded by his family, was quiet, his hands gently brushing over his children’s shoulders. Wanda, standing near Bucky and Alice, her eyes filled with sorrow and understanding, had her head slightly tilted in remembrance.

The rest of the Avengers, their allies, and friends – Sam, Harley, Ross, Maria, Carol, and Nick – all stood in silence, a unified front of strength, love, and loss. Their silence spoke volumes, each person lost in their own memories of Tony, the moments that had shaped them into who they were now.

Bucky’s grip tightened on Alice’s hand as she trembled slightly beside him. He felt the weight of her grief like an anchor around them both. His presence was all she had to hold onto right now, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

And as they all watched the wreath drift further into the lake, time seemed to slow, the finality of Tony’s death settling over them like a blanket they couldn’t shake. No words were spoken, none needed. The quiet sorrow of the group was enough to say everything that needed to be said.

The wreath – Tony’s legacy – slowly faded from view, as the ripples in the water carried it farther away from shore. It was the end of an era. The end of a life that had touched every one of them, in ways they would never forget.

But as the wreath disappeared into the distance, Alice stood there, with Bucky at her side, knowing that the love and lessons Tony had shared would remain with them forever. The heart of the world’s greatest genius was still out there, beating in the people he had left behind. And as long as they kept fighting, kept living – Tony would never truly be gone.

The following morning, some of team’s members gathered again by the lake. It was quiet, sunlit by the lake, where the makeshift Quantum platform had been assembled. The grief of Tony’s funeral still hung heavily over everyone, and the sombre mood persisted, a silent reminder of everything and everyone they had lost.

Alice stood close to Bucky, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The faint breeze carried the scent of the lake, rustling through the leaves in a soft, almost mournful whisper. She hadn’t gotten much sleep after the funeral, and her exhaustion clung to her, making everything feel just a little heavier. The words Bruce and Steve exchanged seemed to float in the air, echoing in her mind.

Bruce, standing beside the controls, tried to maintain his composure, but a flicker of sorrow broke through as he turned to Steve. “Now, remember – you have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them,” Bruce said, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.”

Steve nodded, his face calm but resolute. “Don’t worry, Bruce. Clip all the branches,” he assured, his voice carrying the steadiness of a man prepared for whatever lay ahead.

Bruce swallowed, his jaw tightening before his next words slipped out. “You know, I tried,” he confessed, his gaze dropping to the ground. “When I had the gauntlet, the stones… I really tried to bring her back.” His eyes lifted to meet Steve’s, shimmering with unshed tears. “I miss her, man.”

Steve’s expression softened. “Me too,” he said, his voice quiet but full of shared pain. The memory of Natasha, gone but never forgotten, settled heavily in the space between them.

Alice stood a few steps behind Bruce and Steve, her heart clenched in anguish. Natasha had been more than just a fellow Avenger to her. She had been her best friend, a sister in every way that mattered. Alice’s hands balled into fists at her sides as she struggled to keep herself composed, but a single tear slipped down her cheek, betraying the wall she had tried to put up.

“I miss her, too,” Alice murmured, her voice cracking slightly. The grief, raw and relentless, pulsed in her chest, and for a moment, she had to steady herself. Natasha had been the one she had leaned on during the darkest times, and now, without her, Alice felt the aching void even more deeply.

Sam stepped forward, his concern etched across his features. “You know, if you want, I can come with you,” he offered, his voice gentle.

Steve smiled, grateful but resolute. “You’re a good man, Sam,” he said, his voice warm with affection. “This one’s on me, though.” He glanced over at Bucky, who stood just a little apart, watching the exchange with a pained intensity.

Cap walked over to his oldest friend. For a moment, it was just the two of them, standing on the precipice of yet another goodbye. Steve’s smile was small, tinged with sadness and understanding. “Don’t do anything stupid ‘till I get back,” he joked, the familiar line carrying the weight of all their shared years.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “How can I?” he replied, his voice cracking. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” They embraced, a hug that spoke of years of friendship, loss, and a love that transcended even time. Bucky’s voice trembled, his hands clutching Steve’s back. “Gonna miss you, buddy.”

Steve pulled back, his eyes glistening. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” he promised, his voice soft, full of hope he wasn’t sure he believed. Then he turned to Alice, who had been silently watching, her heart breaking with each word.

Steve pulled her into a tight embrace, the familiarity of their bond wrapping around them. His voice was gentle when he whispered, “In another time.”

Alice’s breath hitched as she clung to him, the tears she’d been fighting stinging her eyes. She managed to whisper back, “In another time.” The words were a promise and a farewell, a dream of a life that could have been different.

Steve stepped away and moved toward the Quantum platform, donning his suit with a determined air. He hefted Mjölnir, a sight that still took everyone’s breath away, and gave them one last nod.

Sam shifted nervously, glancing at Bruce. “How long is this gonna take?” he asked, worry lacing his voice.

Bruce adjusted the controls, his hands shaking. “For him? He replied. “As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.” His voice wavered, but he pressed on, calling out to Steve, “Ready, Cap? Alright. We’ll meet you back here, okay?”

Steve, with a final, confident smile, replied, “You bet.”

Bruce’s voice was steady, even if his heart wasn’t. “Going quantum. Three, two, one-” But Steve didn’t reappear. The pad remained empty, a stark reminder that time was slipping away.

Bruce’s face fell, his confusion evident. “Where is he?” Sam demanded, his voice rising with panic.

Bruce frantically worked at the controls. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his eyes wide. “He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.”

Bucky’s eyes shifted, staring at the empty spot on the platform. Sam stepped forward, his fear evident. “Well, get him back,” he insisted, voice thick with urgency.

“I’m trying,” Bruce replied, his hands fumbling with the equipment.

Sam’s desperation broke through. “Get him the hell back!” he shouted, his voice echoing.

Bruce turned sharply, his own frustration spilling over. “Hey, I said, I’m trying!”

A heavy silence fell, broken only by Bucky’s voice, calm but weighted with the grief of yet another loss. “Sam,” he said softly, drawing his friend’s gaze. Bucky’s expression was grave, but there was a trace of acceptance, a deep understanding that maybe Steve’s journey had ended where it needed to.

Alice stood still, her heart pounding, a silent prayer forming on her lips. Her fingers brushed Bucky’s, seeking any kind of solace as they waited, breath held, for what would come next.

Sam’s footsteps slowed as he approached Bucky and Alice. The two of them stood side by side, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. The morning sun painted streaks of gold across the clearing, casting long shadows over the grass. Bruce followed closely behind, his heart sinking with the realization that something had changed, something irreversible.

There, sitting on a worn log by the edge of the lake, was an old man. His face was lined with age, hair silvered and eyes gentle but tired. Yet, despite the years that had clearly passed, there was no mistaking who he was.

Bucky glanced at Sam, his voice low but resolute. “Go ahead,” he encouraged, his words soft but filled with understanding. Alice managed a small, hopeful smile at Sam, nodding to urge him forward.

Sam took a deep breath and stepped toward the old man, who looked up with a familiar warmth in his eyes. The gravity of the moment pressed heavily on Sam’s heart as he spoke. “Cap?” he asked, his voice trembling with a blend of awe and concern.

Steve Rogers, older now but unmistakably himself, smiled at Sam. “Hi, Sam,” he greeted, the simple words filled with a lifetime’s worth of wisdom and peace.

Sam hesitated, trying to make sense of the scene before him. “So did something go wrong, or did something go right?” he asked, the question tinged with worry and hope.

Steve’s smile deepened, lines crinkling around his eyes. “Well, after I put the stones back, I thought, maybe I’ll try some of that life Tony was telling me to get,” he explained, his voice rich with the echoes of long-past adventures.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat, and his chest ached with emotions he wasn’t sure he could express. “How’d that work out for you?” he asked, his voice quiet but earnest.

Steve’s eyes softened even further, a look of contentment settling on his features. “It was beautiful,” he replied, his voice a whisper, as though he was holding the memories close.

Sam swallowed hard, forcing a smile through the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m happy for you. Truly,” he said, and he meant it. Despite the loss he felt, he couldn’t deny Steve the happiness he had found.

Steve nodded, his gratitude apparent. “Thank you,” he said, the words simple yet sincere.

Sam’s smile wavered as he spoke, his voice sightly cracking. “Only thing bumming me out is the fact I have to live in a world without Captain America,” he admitted, the grief of losing yet another guiding figure pulling at his heart.

Steve’s eyes twinkled with a familiar mischief. “Oh, that reminds me,” he said, reaching to his side and bringing out the shield. It gleamed in the sunlight, a symbol of hope and responsibility. “Try it on,” he urged, holding it out to Sam.

Sam hesitated, glancing at Bucky. Bucky met his eyes and gave a small, encouraging nod, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. But before Sam took the shield, his gaze flickered to Alice, who stood beside Bucky. She was watching the scene unfold, her eyes full of understanding and quiet strength. Sam could see how much Natasha and Tony’s absence pained her, but in this moment, she and Bucky were both pillars of resilience, connected to the legacy of Steve and what the shield represented.

Sam felt the weight of the decision. In his mind, he knew that both Alice and Bucky would have been fitting choices to carry on Steve’s legacy. Alice had the unwavering courage and fierce loyalty that Captain America stood for. Bucky, having fought his way back from the darkness, had a depth of resilience and history with Steve that made him equally deserving. Moreover, they both had the super soldier serum running through their veins.

But the nod from Bucky and the supportive look from Alice were the permission Sam needed. It felt right, in a way that was both humbling and empowering. Taking a breath, he stepped forward and accepted the shield from Steve, feeling the weight of it both comforting and intimidating.

“How does it feel?” Steve asked, watching as Sam ran his fingers over the familiar surface.

Sam’s voice was thick with emotion. “Like it’s someone else’s,” he said, the burden of living up to Steve’s legacy hanging heavy in the air.

Steve’s response was gentle but firm. “It isn’t,” he said, his words an affirmation that Sam was the right choice, that he had earned this.

“Thank you,” Sam said, his voice breaking as he tried to convey his gratitude. “I’ll do my best.”

Steve’s smile was full of pride. “That’s why it’s yours,” he said, reaching out to shake Sam’s hand. Their grip lingered, a connection that spoke of shared respect and trust. Sam’s eyes flickered downward, catching the glint of a wedding ring on Steve’s hand.

A soft, curious smile spread across Sam’s face. “You wanna tell me about her?” he asked, the question light but laced with genuine curiosity.

Steve’s expression softened into a private, knowing smile. “No,” he replied, his voice gentle, “no, I don’t think I will.” The words carried a quiet finality, but also a sense of peace. It was a story Steve wanted to keep for himself, a piece of his life that was his and his alone.

Bucky and Alice stood a little apart, watching the scene unfold with mixed emotions. Alice’s hand found Bucky’s, squeezing it as they both absorbed the moment. There was loss, yes, but also the sense that everything was as it should be.

Later that evening, Alice and Bucky found themselves back at her apartment. The space felt warm and familiar, but a heaviness hung in the air, the events of the day still pressing on their hearts. Alice set her keys down on the small table near the door, her fingers lingering as if grounding herself to the present moment. Bucky closed the door behind them, the soft click sounding louder than usual in the quiet apartment.

They stood there for a moment, absorbing the silence. Then Alice finally broke it, her voice a mix of emotions. “Steve really did it,” she said, her eyes distant, still replaying the moment Steve had handed Sam the shield. “He really chose to live that life Tony always talked about.”

Bucky nodded, his expression conflicted. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice gruff. “I guess he finally got that dance with Peggy.” He rubbed a hand over his face, the weight of the day visible in the tension of his shoulders. “I just… I never thought I’d have to say goodbye to him again. Not like that.”

Alice’s heart clenched. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “None of us did,” she murmured, her own grief mingling with his. Steve had been a constant in her life, a steady presence through chaos and war. Seeing him as an old man, knowing he had chosen a different path, left an ache that was difficult to articulate.

Bucky looked own, absorbing her words. “It’s just…” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “Steve was the best of us. The world is gonna feel emptier without him.”

Alice’s hand slipped down to take his, their fingers intertwining. “But we’re still here,” she reminded him, her voice steady. “We’re here to keep fighting for the world he believed in. And maybe, with time, we’ll learn to carry the weight of his legacy in our own way.”

Bucky met her eyes, a glimmer of gratitude shining through the sadness. “I guess we will,” he said softly. He squeezed her hand, grounding himself in her presence, and for the first time that day, he felt a small spark of hope.

The days that followed were filled with an odd kind of quiet, the kind that spoke of bittersweet endings but also of hesitant new beginnings. Alice and Bucky stayed at her apartment, the space becoming a haven where they could both breathe, heal, and simply be.

Their first date was Alice’s idea, a classic afternoon picnic in Central Park. She prepared for it with a kind of giddy excitement, bustling around the kitchen, her hair pulled back with stray curls framing her face. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, watching her assemble the sandwiches and snacks she insisted were “the ultimate picnic essentials”. The sight of her so animated, so alive, made something warm bloom in his chest.

“You’re really putting a lot of pressure on these sandwiches,” he teased, his deep voice echoing softly in the small kitchen.

Alice spun around, a slice of cheese in her hand, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me, these aren’t just sandwiches, James Buchanan Barnes. They’re carefully curated, expertly assembled creations. A lot of love went into these.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine, and stepped forward to steal a piece of cheese. “Okay, okay, I’ll trust the sandwich expert. But if I’m not blown away, I’m holding you accountable.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was wide. “Deal.”

The park was drenched in sunlight when they arrived, the kind of golden light that made everything feel hopeful, almost magical. Alice chose a spot under a massive oak tree, spreading out a checkered blanket she’d brought along. Bucky helped her set up, though he kept stealing glances at her, marvelling at how her joy seemed to radiate from her. She wore a light blue sundress, and the breeze teased at its hem, making her laugh as she tried to keep it from flying up.

“Stop staring,” she said, catching him in the act and narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion.

“I’m not staring,” Bucky lied, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m… observing.”

“Uh-huh. Observing, my ass,” she shot back, but her cheeks flushed with a pleased warmth. She finished setting out the food and sat back with a sigh. “Okay, picnic feast is ready.”

Bucky joined her, and they shared the meal together, trading jokes and stories between bites. At one point, he picked up a strawberry and held it out to her, a playful glint in his eyes. “You trust me not to drop this all over your pretty dress?”

Alice leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He smirked, and in a rare, mischievous moment, pulled the strawberry away at the last second. She gasped in mock outrage, reaching for it, and the two of them burst into laughter as she finally managed to snatch the berry from his fingers. The carefree sound of their laughter blended with the hum of the city around them, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them.

After lunch, she convinced him to play frisbee, and despite his initial reluctance, Bucky found himself running and laughing alongside her. The frisbee sailed through the air, and Alice’s delighted squeals every time he managed to catch it made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time – pure, unfiltered joy. They played until they were both breathless, collapsing on the blanket in a tangled heap.

“You know,” Bucky said, looking up at the sky, “I haven’t had this much fun in… well, I can’t remember the last time.”

Alice turned her head to look at him, her expression soft. “I’m glad we did this,” she murmured. “You deserve fun, Bucky. You deserve happiness.”

He looked back at her, his heart aching in the best way. “So do you,” he said quietly, and she reached over to intertwine her fingers with his.

Their second date was more formal. Bucky, wanting to do something special, made reservations at a little Italian restaurant he’d heard about from Sam. It was a tiny, family-run place with fairy lights strung along the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything. When Alice emerged from her room in a sleek, black dress, Bucky felt his breath catch.

“Wow,” he said, unable to hide his awe. “You look… incredible.”

She smiled, a little shy but mostly pleased. “You don’t look so bad yourself, sergeant.”

The meal was delicious, and they talked about everything and nothing, savouring the food and each other’s company. At one point, Bucky’s hand found hers across the table, and he held it gently, tracing small circles on her skin with his thumb. “Do you ever think about the future?” he asked, his voice soft.

Alice tilted her head, studying him. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I try not to think too far ahead. Life’s thrown too many curveballs.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured, his thoughts drifting to the small, velvet box he had hidden in his jacket pocket. “I get that.”

But the weight of the box felt heavier than ever. He wondered if he’d find the right moment to ask her, if he’d ever feel like the timing was perfect.

The most intimate date was their sunset stroll along the Hudson River. The sky was a riot of colours, painted in hues of orange, pink, and deep purple. The river reflected the scene, shimmering like a liquid rainbow. Alice held onto Bucky’s arm, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I used to come here a lot when I was at the orphanage,” she said quietly. “Back then, when everything was… different. It’s strange, being here now and feeling like things might actually be okay.”

Bucky turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. “I like the idea of ‘okay’”, he replied. “I never thought I’d get a chance at it, but here we are.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. “Bucky… whatever happens, I’m glad we’re here. Together.”

He swallowed, feeling that familiar ache. He wanted to tell her everything, to drop to one knee right then and there, but nerves tangled his words. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her gently. “Me too,” he whispered against her lips. “You’ve changed everything for me.”

They stood there, the world around them fading away. Bucky knew he had the ring, knew he was ready to take the leap, but something about the quiet moments they shared made him hold back. He wanted to savour these days, to let their love unfold naturally.

And so, they kept building memories – each picnic, each candlelit dinner, each sunset stroll – becoming the foundation of something beautiful. Something they both hoped would last forever.

The following day had started perfectly. Alice had woken up to the sound of birds chirping outside her apartment window and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Bucky, ever the early riser, was leaning against the counter when she walked in, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, offering her a mug.

“Morning, grumpy,” she shot back with a grin, taking the coffee and planting a quick kiss on his lips.

They’d planned a low-key day – breakfast at their favourite café, a stroll through the park, and maybe a movie later. By the time they had reached the café, a tiny crack had already formed in Bucky’s good mood.

It started when they got to the counter, and Alice, eyeing the glass case filled with pastries, ordered the last croissant without thinking twice.

“You want anything else, Buck?” she asked cheerily, completely unaware of the slight twitch in his jaw.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Alice had happily bitten into the flaky pastry as they walked to the park, humming to herself while talking about some random theory she’d read online about how pigeons might be government spies.

Bucky nodded along, but inside, he was spiralling. She didn’t even ask if I wanted it. The last croissant. Doesn’t she know I love those?

He stayed quiet, thinking Alice would notice his mood shift. But as they reached the park and settled onto the bench, she still hadn’t said a word about it.

Now, the silence stretched between them like a taut wire.

Bucky’s inner monologue was relentless: We haven’t talked in 20 minutes. She hasn’t even noticed I’m mad. What could she possibly be thinking about?

Meanwhile, Alice was blissfully unaware, staring out at the ducks gliding across the lake. Her thoughts had wandered far, far away.

Could I fight a bear? I mean, I have the serum in me… But not a polar bear. No, those are basically monsters. But like a black bear? Yeah, I could definitely take a black bear. And a shark maybe. If I punched it in the gills, that’s the trick, right? Do sharks even have gills?

Bucky finally snapped. “Seriously, Alice?”

She blinked and turned to him, startled. “What?”

“What?” Bucky repeated, his tone incredulous. “Are you really going to sit there like nothing happened?”

Alice frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Uh, yeah? Did I miss something?”

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. “This morning! At the café! You ate the last croissant.”

Alice blinked once, then twice, before breaking into laughter. “Wait, that’s why you’ve been brooding all day? A croissant?”

“Not just a croissant, Alice,” Bucky said, his voice rising slightly. “The last croissant. You didn’t even think to ask if I wanted it.”

“Oh my god,” Alice said, covering her face as she tried to stifle her giggles. “You’ve been stewing about this for hours? Buck, I didn’t even realize! I’ll buy you a dozen croissants tomorrow, okay?”

“That’s not the point,” Bucky muttered, crossing his arms. “It’s about communication.”

Alice leaned back, still chuckling, and tilted her head to look at him. “Communication? About pastries?”

Bucky sighed, his frustration softening as he met her teasing gaze. “It’s not just about the croissant, okay? It’s – it’s everything. I just… I thought we’d share it, that’s all.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a warm smile. “Bucky Barnes, are you telling me you’re upset because you wanted to share a croissant with me?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Maybe.”

She reached over, resting a hand on his. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? But I kinda love it.”

His lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Just don’t eat the last one next time.”

“Deal,” she said, squeezing his hand. Then, after a beat, she added with a mischievous grin, “But just so you know, I could fight a bear.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“A black bear,” she clarified. “Not a polar bear. Those are demons.”

He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head, laughing despite himself. “You’re insane.”

“You love it,” Alice said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around her. “I do.”

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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masterlist

[pascaloverx]

As It Was (S2)

Chapter Ten

previous season next chapter

Summary: Lots of news in this new season, which will be full of several twists and discussions. And of course, lots of James Buchanan Barnes.

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

Waking up in a hospital bed is much more uncomfortable than it seems. In fact, at first I thought I was dead. But it was when I tried to move and felt a pang in my stomach that I realized I was alive. I don't know how happy or sad this makes me. Someone I believed was good cheated on me, someone I loved died and I have no idea where the hell my ex husband is.

"Thank God you finally woke up, I'm going to call the doctor but try to stay conscious for the next few minutes at least." Dave speaks happily as if he's been yearning for me to wake up.

A few moments later I was so confused that I didn't even notice a team of doctors and nurses entering my room, it was almost as if I were a rare specimen. They are analyzing my every mole, asking standard questions like do I see this or that, do I remember my name, and checking my moles as soon as they enter what appears to be my hospital room.

"Doctor, what happened to me?" I ask, fearing that they are analyzing me because something terrible is about to happen.

"You may be a little confused in the next few days, the shot you took hit your spleen, which resulted in complications in his surgery. You got on induced coma for a while so that we could guarantee a recovery. The exact time you were in a coma was six months. The good news is that your body has fully recovered, without any apparent signs of trauma. For any additional information, you can ask the doctor on duty or the nurse who will be responsible for the care of this ward." The doctor speak so seriously, I feel a little confused with so much information.

"Will I be released soon or will I have to stay here for a long time?" It's the only question I long for the answer.

"We have to keep you here for at least another day for further observations but probably tomorrow, you will be released and you can go home." He speaks subtly with precision. It's a relief knowing that I will soon be able to leave here if everything is okay with me.

Dave enters the hospital room a few seconds after the doctors leave, looking extremely relieved. I really want to hug him but you're afraid to make sudden movements.

"You look like you got hit by a truck but I'm so glad you woke up. Sam and the girls were just as worried as I was, wondering when you would wake up." Dave says sitting in the companion's chair next to my hospital bed.

"How is Bucky?" It's all you can think about, wondering how my ex-husband was, who risked his life because of me.

"You won’t like to know. I think for your recovery, it’s better if you know this later.” Dave says while holding my hand softly.

"I need to know how he's doing Dave. If you consider yourself my best friend, start talking." My authoritative tone must be more powerful now because Dave seems to want to obey me.

"Barnes is working..." Dave sounds so uncertain saying this like he's afraid of my reaction.

"What do you mean, working?" Something inside me says I'm going to get stressed in the next few minutes.

"His father figured that Killian and Rogers would betray him and made a dossier and secretly handed it in before he died. The FBI and national security had no doubts about Barnes' innocence so as soon as he recovered from his injuries, he returned to work. I think he even got promoted." Because this information doesn't surprise you, it reminds you why I ended up ending my relationship with Barnes.

"What a son of a bitch, how can he come back after everything we've been through...what about Rogers and Killian?" This I really hope that one of them is at least arrested.

"Both are on the run from the police, but they disappeared. Which is kind of good news." Dave talks trying to sound optimistic.

"They both have reasons to kill me. Which makes it even worse." Stress slowly eats away at me as I imagine how unbearable my life will be.

"We will be with you and Barnes will also take care of you. Rumor has it that you're going to have cops watching." Dave tries to calm me down, which somehow works.

"I think I'm going to need some time to adapt to this information but I'm glad I'm back." I say, holding Dave's hand tightly as I lie to his face. I'm not happy, I'm desperate. My father died, my ex husband is still the same idiot and there are two cruel men wanting my head. I couldn't be more fucked up.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Marvel + text posts

[arkadiastackie]

stucky fans may attack me for saying this but bucky has never been happier than since he became friends with sam

no shade or anything, i’m not saying bucky was never happy with steve, but he’s just better and healthier since sam became a significant part of his life

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts. 

"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue. 

"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes. 

You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun. 

"Right, right, sure," she scoffs. 

"That's a low blow," you hiss. 

"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary." 

"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer. 

"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it." 

"You are so dumb," you scowl. 

"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in." 

"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?" 

"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists. 

"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse. 

"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips. 

"Regretfully," you tweak your brow. 

"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka. 

"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem." 

"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst." 

"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom. 

You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits. 

As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon. 

"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp. 

"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored." 

You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door. 

You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home. 

You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.

You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills. 

You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant. 

Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute. 

You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her. 

"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.

She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh. 

"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help." 

"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew. 

You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat. 

Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual. 

You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month. 

The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh. 

You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you. 

You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.  

Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age? 

The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate. 

“Anj,” you approach the pool. 

“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses. 

“Why are we friends again?” You mutter. 

She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again. 

Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside. 

There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off. 

He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?” 

He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars. 

You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?” 

He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy. 

“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.” 

He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built. 

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?” 

He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down. 

“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead. 

Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it. 

“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him. 

There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly. 

Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks. 

“All done,” he says. 

The lid snaps shut loudly. 

You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile. 

He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do. 

“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.” 

He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle. 

“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you. 

His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking. 

Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour. 

You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.” 

She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles. 

“What?” 

“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look. 

“Whatever,” you shrug. 

“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you growl. 

“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks. 

You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?” 

“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?” 

“A bet?” 

“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts. 

“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer. 

“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...” 

You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting. 

“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction. 

“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.”