#bucky barnes is queer

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Destiny Bond

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Non-Binary Character, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The Government offers Bucky a clean slate if he marries a mutant of their choosing. Can a match motivated by survival ever work out? Arranged Marriage AU

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 7883

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E)  Angst, arranged marriage reluctance, implied incentivised breeding, smut, praise kink, spanking.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Largely written for the Build-a-Bucky bingo, hosted by @buckybarnesevents! This was an utter delight to write. Thanks for the inspiration! For our Bug. Our muse, our superhero, always.

Prompts fulfilled: - ‘Destiny Bond’ – Dick-or-Treat; - ‘Mutual Pining’ – Any Fandom Goes (Kink) @anyfandomkinkbingo; - ‘Hurt/Comfort’, ‘Bucky’s Trigger Words’, ‘Accidental Love Confessions’, ‘Backyard Cookout’, ‘Wrong Number’, ‘Friends to Lovers’, ‘AU: Arranged Marriage’, ‘Space’, ‘Mutual Masturbation’, ‘Spanking’, ‘Possessiveness’, ‘Praise Kink’ – Build-a-Bucky Bingo (May) @buckybarnesevents (Completionist achieved! :D)

Read it below or on AO3 here. Adorable divider by @plum98! Cards at the end <3

Stevie adjusted my tie, and I swallowed dryly.

“So… You excited?” he murmured, raising his eyes to mine as he earned a weak, wordless chuckle. “Yeah… Probably not how you envisioned it, huh?”

“I mean, I figured I’d probably get married in the fifties. Just, y’know… A century earlier.”

“And to someone you know,” Steve added, his voice low, and I grinned feebly.

“Yeah, well. We can’t all be as lucky as you and Tony,” I teased affectionately, making my best man’s cheeks flush pink.

“I’m glad we tied the knot before all this pressure started,” he admitted, barely audible as he spoke in a nervous whisper, and I could only nod in response around the lump in my throat.

Six months after Tony and Steve married, there was a huge push to increase the number of mutants and superpowered individuals; concerns were constantly growing about extraterrestrial invasion, and the government made no secret of the view that we were now needed more than we were feared. Financial incentives were offered for marrying a partner of their choosing – but it wasn’t money that had me signing up for the program two years on. I was approached directly, far from everything I knew, with a promise that my record would be wiped clean if I participated. I would be repatriated. I could go home.

The only other super soldier was already married – to someone not physiologically altered, to boot, and not to mention a lack of biological compatibility to bolster our numbers without outside influence; Steve had been contacted several times for requests to be used as a glorified stud horse, and he always refused without hesitation. There was nothing they could offer that would make him accept.

So I was important, apparently.

They wouldn’t tell me who I’d be making this vow with – all I was told was that they were a natal mutant. I didn’t know their abilities, their age, their likes, dislikes… I didn’t even know their name. The only piece of information I had was that they were non-binary and assigned female at birth; reproduction was the goal here, after all.

Nobody ever bothered to ask my sexuality, or if I cared about the gender or sex of my partner. If they had, I’d have told them I was open to anyone – gender didn’t matter me, nor the package it came in – but I was horrified that they failed to as much as consider the issue, and had a deep fear that I would fly directly in the face of their own attraction. This was going to be hard enough without further complications.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Steve murmured, gently pulling me from my thoughts.

I nodded slowly, glancing at the reflection staring back at me, pale and wide-eyed. “I need to come home, Stevie. I’ll do anything to make that happen.”

He simply nodded back, smoothing his hands over my shoulders gently. “In that case… Let’s go get you married, Buck.”

Steve and I talked quietly as we stood before the registrar. Tony sat in the front row, acting as our second witness -evidently, the government watchdog sculking at the back of the room to make sure everything proceeded legally didn’t count.

The registrar cleared his throat, drawing our eyes, and Steve offered me a weak smile as the door opened.

I blinked in surprise, gawping at the sight of the small bundle of nervous energy striding up the aisle with less-than-traditional pace.

A small bundle that I’d met several times before.

They came to a halt in front of me, looking equally shocked, rocking on their heels with their hands in their pockets. “… Fancy seeing you here.”

“You… You’re wearing cargo shorts,” I noted faintly, and they grinned.

“I’m always wearing cargo shorts.”

“You’re wearing cargo shorts to your own wedding.”

Their grin grew wider, and they shrugged, trailing a palm down the overshirt laid over a cartoon tee. “I got a new shirt, at least.”

I took in the black plaid, and shook my head fondly. “I appreciate the effort?”

They snorted, fingers flexing nervously. “So… Let’s get hitched, I guess.”

I could only nod silently as the registrar began to speak, deaf to the words as I stared at all 5’4” of the mutant before me. We’d run into one another a few times; they lived a little upstate, just outside of the city, and sometimes our territory – and our marks – overlapped. If pushed, I’d have labelled the quick kid a friend.

And now my spouse, I suppose.

Both registrar and my betrothed were staring at me expectantly, and I blinked, panicked. “Sorry- what?”

“Say ‘I do’, Buck,” Bug teased, nervous smile flickering slightly.

“Oh- yeah, of course. Happy to. I mean, I do,” I added quickly, flustered by the attention, and their face split into a grin once more, this one tinted with relief.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York and the U.S Department of Superhuman Relations, I now pronounce you man and spouse. You may kiss.”

I licked my dry lips lightly, shifting closer, waiting until they leant in a little to brush my mouth tentatively over theirs.

When I drew back, they were adorably pink, eyes diverted shyly from mine.

While I spoke to the witness from the DSR, making sure everything was above board, Bug’s attention was drawn to their cell, a soft frown of focus pulling on one side of their mouth. “It’s good to have you back, Sergeant Barnes,” he concluded with a weak smile. I simply stared at the hand offered to me with a scowl before turning away, determined to make my disdain evident.

Steve was still eyeing Bug with surprise – and something akin to relief that had me cocking my head curiously, earning a small smile when he noticed. “At least it’s someone we know?” he ventured uncertainly, and I shrugged.

“Better in some ways… Worse in others,” I muttered back, gaze straying to the mutant once more. They were still staring down at their phone, the frown now shifted into a smile, tapping briefly before sliding the device into their pocket and meeting my eye with a shy shrug.

“Wrong number,” they offered, waving a hand dismissively, and I nodded, only distantly unconvinced – but it was no business of mine. “So… Now what?” they broached, teeth finding their lip, fingers knotted in front of their abdomen.

“The DSR pays for a fancy hotel as well as the ceremony,” I noted, and winced when their cheeks flamed. “That- I, uh… I-I just meant… Room service. On their dime. All we can eat. I didn’t- There’ll only be one bed, but I- I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a problem, just-”

“All we can eat sounds nice,” they interrupted softly, offering me a reassuring smile, and I sighed in relief, grinning back.

Maybe this will be… Fine.

I hope.

We were congratulated as we checked in – Mr. and Mx. Barnes.

I’m married.

I have a spouse.

“I can’t believe I’m married,” they muttered as I scanned our keycard, seemingly reading my mind. “I didn’t think I’d ever get married, honestly… Just seemed like a whole lot of effort for a piece of paper.”

I shrugged a shoulder – wincing subtly at the pain where flesh met metal – nudging the door open and stepping aside to let them enter first. “I don’t know. Honestly, I thought I would someday. Not quite in these circumstances, admittedly,” I chuckled, following them in and leaning against the door uncertainly as it closed behind us. They looked around with wide eyes, seemingly captivated by the extravagance, and rushed to the window with a gasp. I blinked as they vanished, reappearing with their nose pressed to the glass, wriggling with excitement.

“We can see the whole city from here!” they exclaimed, fingertips drumming on the frame, the wide window offering a cinematic view, and I laughed.

“I always forget how quick you are…” I murmured, shaking my head. The first time I’d run into them, they’d been gone before I’d fully registered them leaning over my mark, trussed up and secure. It wasn’t until later that I learned that they’d arrived before me – unsurprisingly – and was about to turn him in to the police, but my presence startled them, and they fled; I handed the mark to SHIELD, but my mind wandered frequently to the fast bundle of nervousness until we came across each other again, several months later. They almost ran into me as I tackled my mark, skidding to a halt with a squeak of surprise, big brown eyes wide and startled.

Eventually, we’d exchange timid smiles, and then chatted once or twice.

And now… This.

“Yup, I’m a zoomer,” they agreed readily, fingertips drawing invisible patterns on the glass. “… I guess that’s why they paired us, huh? I mean, we all know what they want. And if your abilities are passed on… That’d be an impressive kid. Fast, strong, quick healing, basically immortal…” They frowned a little, eyes lowering briefly. “I never really wanted kids, either…”

My mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, heat rising in my cheeks at the implication. “I- There’s not… The incentive is only for marriage, I mean-”

“No, but everyone knows that’s what they want. They all but came out and said it; all that stuff about increasing the superhuman population?” They shrugged, gaze still on the ground several floors below, a distant sadness flickering across their expression. “They can’t pay us to have kids – it’s even more unethical than what they say they’re doing. Paying us to be their breeding cattle for an entire generation of soldiers is apparently a little too far.”

I blinked at their callous tone – this mild-mannered, sweet little critter, who I’d never heard speak viciously of anyone. It was a shock to hear them so vehement, hands clenching minutely against the glass. “If you hate it so much… Why did you sign up?” I broached softly, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch them with interest.

They shrugged timidly, pulling out their cell to glance at the screen once more. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“They forced you?” I clarified, stunned, and they shrugged again.

“Not like you’re thinking. I… Had debt. A lot of debt. I was about to lose my apartment, could barely afford to eat most days… The day job just wasn’t paying enough, and running around at night isn’t exactly earning me a mint, either. I did it for the cash.”

“Did you get it?” I prompted softly, and they sighed with relief, eyes flicking to mine as they raised their cell pointedly.

“Transferred the money within minutes. All my debt has been wiped, and I’ll get a stipend every week for… Well, as long as we’re married, I guess. More than I need, for sure. It’s solved all my problems.” They offered me a weak smile, and I returned the gesture.

“I know what you mean. I was expatriated; that’s why you haven’t seen me in a while. I had to leave the country. They found me and told me that if I agreed to sign up, I could come home.” I glanced around myself, and my smile became a little more genuine. “I missed New York.”

Their head bobbed in agreement, gaze shifting back to the window. “It’s a good city. I’ve moved around a lot, but I’ve never been in one place for so long. I could get used to being here.” They repeated the motion, head jerking rhythmically, and I cocked my head with a grin at the unique behaviour.

“Well, we’re kind of tied into it now, aren’t we?” I chuckled, earning a confused glance from the mutant in the window, and my brow furrowed. “They gave us an apartment. Didn’t you know that?” They shook their head and I let out a soft laugh. “Okay. Well, the idea is that either one of our apartments would be more comfortable for one than the other – level footing, y’know? Plus, there’s space for those kids they’re pushing for…” I rolled a shoulder, looking down thoughtfully. “It’s pretty much directly between my place and the edge of the city, so… That’s nice, I guess?” I ventured, earning a weak nod.

“It’ll be nicer than mine, I’m sure,” they agreed readily, before glancing to me. “… Your shoulder hurts, huh?”

I blinked in surprise, metal fingers tensing automatically. “I… I guess, maybe a little. How did you know?”

“You roll it a lot,” they shrugged, returning to their invisible sketches on the glass. “I figured it must be painful. Is there a way to make it easier?”

I looked down at the black and gold vibranium, created for me after I’d sought refuge in Wakanda at Steve’s suggestion. I’d earned more than an arm in my time there – I’d also been decommissioned, freeing me at last from the trigger words that activated me as a mindless soldier, obedient and suggestable.

I still refused to hear them, of course. Just in case.

“It… Comes off, I think? Or at least, it has. Never done it myself, though.”

They turned to face me fully, one eyebrow arched. “Wanna give it a shot?”

My stomach tensed, fingers moving automatically to the seam where flesh met metal, probing uncertainly. “I… I’m not sure…”

“Can I look?” they ventured softly, stepping a little closer, hesitating when I frowned anxiously. “I- I don’t have to, I mean- I just-”

“It’s okay,” I chuckled, taking in their wide eyes and nervous twitching. “I can show you.” My hands moved to my collar, and I unbuttoned slowly, throat bobbing with apprehension. This wasn’t a part of myself many people had seen – nor did I think I’d be taking my clothes off in front of Bug, at least not anytime soon. They shifted to sit beside me timidly, hands knotted in their lap, eyes flicking to and away from me shyly until my shirt dropped to the bed, and they finally took me in fully, staring openly until I felt my face flush minutely. “What?”

They turned red, gaze lowering immediately, and wriggled with embarrassment at having been caught. “I- You’re… Very pretty. Objectively speaking,” they added quickly, cheeks blushing darker. A moment later, however, they were distracted by the metal of my arm, fingertips reaching out to trail along the rivulets that made up the individual plates. “Wow… This is amazing…”

“It is,” I agreed readily, shifting my arm to make the plates move, earning a surprised gasp. “Shuri – she’s this kid in Wakanda, real smart – she worked hard as hell on it. It’s way better than the old one; it hurts less, too.”

Humming curiously, their hand travelled upward, and I winced minutely as they brushed against my skin, earning a muttered apology and quick redirection. When their fingertips probed along the back of my shoulder, we both froze at the feel of the small button, eyes meeting uncertainly. “Should I?” they offered softly, and I swallowed, shaking my head.

“I- I’m okay. It’s not so bad, honestly,” I replied with a soft smile, forcing myself to ignore the pain of nerve and vibranium knotted together, the constant stimulation from the attached limb causing endless, searing shots of fire through my shoulders and ribs. They nodded back, eyes darting around the room distractedly, and I chuckled under my breath as their stomach rumbled audibly. “So… Room service?”

We settled with unexpected ease into our life, content to share a space and our time. We went on patrol together, my senses and their speed pairing well – perhaps the government had gotten something right after all. I offered them the main bedroom, taking the larger of the other two. It was clear that the program truly was all about reproduction; both spare rooms were made up as nurseries, and I had to wedge my bed in between a crib and a changing table, unnerved by this decorating for a child that was unlikely to ever exist.

Two weeks into our new routine, we decided to invite some folks over, have a cookout in the backyard and introduce Bug to the team. I prompted them if there was anyone they’d like to attend, but they simply shrugged, moving on the conversation quickly.

Some of the team had met them before, a crossing of paths similar to our own, albeit less frequent. They’d never exchanged more than a polite smile or a formal nod, and they relished the opportunity to speak with this quick bundle of nervous energy. Everyone got on well, and I found myself watching with a smile on more than one occasion as they chuckled with my nearest and dearest.

Steve caught my eye and grinned, cocking his head inquisitively, but I simply blushed lightly and looked away.

Sure, they were sweet, and pleasant to live with. They didn’t tidy up often, but they didn’t really tend to make too much mess – and they made an incredible sweet potato curry. It was… Nice, having someone to come home to.

I could see myself being quite content to do this forever.

But the idea of being with them, in that way, the way we were expected to be...

Well. Wouldn’t that be something – to actually fall in love with this person I’d been pressed, all but blackmailed, into marrying? A coincidence indeed. Fated, almost.

But they showed no indication of wanting anything more than our platonic comfort, and I accepted that. We lived in companionable peace, even if we had started spending more and more of our time together, talking about our lives and our abilities, watching crappy TV shows until we laughed so hard our faces hurt. Despite the adorable appearance and quirky mannerisms, they could be filthy as anything, mahogany eyes flashing with amusement whenever they landed a quip with expert timing. We ribbed each other in affectionately devastating ways, and I loved it.

It took eight months for me to began to wonder what happened next.

I’d been passing by their room on my way back to bed after a restless night, padding silently by the cracked door, the darkness inside implying their unconsciousness.

Until I heard a soft sigh that brought me to a halt, head cocked.

I was no stranger to the scourge of nightmares, and reached out a hand to push the door a little wider, wanting to clarify before I entered to comfort or wake them.

My throat ran dry at the sight of them sprawled across their bed, sheets tucked around their waist, their head back and lips parted – and one hand moving slowly between their legs. My cock stirred at the sight – an automatic reaction to an erotic display, I told myself firmly – and I gulped as they let out another quiet whine, free hand curling in their dark curls as their hips twitched. Surprise and curiosity held me fast, watching for a moment as their legs inched further apart and their breath came faster.

Then their head turned, eyes finding mine in the low light, and I froze.

“I-I- Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, I was just- I walked past and I heard- I thought you were- I-” My stammers came soft and useless, and they offered me a shy smile.

“I couldn’t sleep either. ... You can join me if you want.”

I nodded automatically, then blinked, stunned. “I... Huh?”

A low chuckle, and they shifted a little, creating some space beside them. “It’s hard to find something to get off to since porn was banned... Might be nice to have something to watch, if you’re up for it.”

I swallowed again, cock twitching insistently in my sweatpants, letting out a weak nod. “Yeah, that... That’s true... Guess they did it to try and get the newlyweds to fuck, or something... Less likely to have fun on their own, I guess?”

“Buck?”

“Hm?”

“You’re rambling... Join me or go away, your hovering is distracting.” They shot me a grin as they spoke, affectionate and reassuring, and I nodded again, footsteps hushed as I crept into the room. Their hand began to move again as I stood at the edge of the bed, my arousal evident, hesitating.

“What... Should I... Undress, or-?”

They licked their lips a little and nodded, eyes trailing over my chest and down to the straining in my pants. “No objection here. However you’re comfortable...”

I nodded back, feeling shy and excited as I tugged my shirt over my head, shivering minutely at their eyes on me as I hooked my thumbs in my waistband. Their gulp was audible as I dropped my sweatpants and straightened, and I smirked, sliding in beside them as they moved the sheets from my spot. Metal fingertips caressed the aching outline of my cock briefly, their gaze locked on my hand with rapturous attention, and I let out a quiet groan as I slid my boxers down my thighs, the cool night air soothing on my pulsating length.

“Jesus, Buck... Is everything about you impressive?”  they breathed, heart fluttering audibly, and I snorted, fingers wrapping around my cock slowly as it twitched once more.

“I suppose it’s... Fine,” I replied with a smirk, heat shooting through my veins as their hand shifted a little quicker, lip slipping between their teeth.

“That thing would split me open,” they breathed - but there was no horror in the words whispered with halting breath, a shudder traveling through their body as their hips twitched. I groaned and gripped myself a little tighter, head falling back, their eyes on me making a typically unremarkable event infinitely more arousing.

“You reckon?” I murmured, brushing my thumb over my leaking tip as they nodded firmly.

“I’m not sure I’d be able to take it all... It’s so thick...” My moan of pleasure at their words was almost embarrassing, but I was too enraptured to care, hand curled around my length eagerly. They grinned, inching minutely closer until their leg brushed mine. “Oh... That’s your thing, huh? Being told how huge your cock is? God, I don’t think my tight little pussy could handle you...”

The whimper that eked between my teeth brought a blush to my cheeks, but I was too far gone to care much, hand moving quickly as my cock pulsed with desire. “Fuck- God, it’s been so long since I had a pretty cunt wrapped around me... Can’t remember the last time I had this cock buried in an eager throat...”

They mewled, back arching, and my grip stuttered as they fumbled under the blankets, a low buzzing distracting me from my impending climax. I could see the moment it touched them, their pupils flaring in the dim light – and even more obvious was the moment it slipped inside them, a deafening whimper bursting between their parted lips, tipping their head back as they writhed. “Oh, God – fuck, I can’t- I’m going to-”

I grunted my agreement as I worked myself desperately, my timing aligning with theirs as we shared the moment, their whines and moans of ecstasy spurring me on until they cried out, the delicate arch of their back as they sobbed their pleasure tipping me over the edge.

We lay in silence for a few minutes, each panting and trembling, as reality began to seep into my serotonin-soaked brain, the space between us feeling as if an impassable canyon rather than a foot.

What now?

“Okay, well... Thanks, I guess? I hope you manage to get some sleep now,” they murmured, tucking the sheets up to their chin with a yawn. I blinked in surprise and nodded, shifting upright.

“I... Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning,” I replied hesitantly, grabbing my clothes where they lay. I felt their eyes cut to me in the darkness as I stood, but I didn’t dare look back, seed still cooling where it had landed on my chest.

When I slipped between my own sheets a few moments later, clean and confused, I found myself unable to shake the feeling of their eyes meeting mine in the darkness, the way their leg brushed mine under the security and secrecy of the sheets.

Somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t help but want to reach out across the empty expanse beside me.

We avoided each other when we woke the next morning- the only indicator that they were even around was an empty coffee cup left in the bottom of a freshly cleaned sink. I chewed my lip uncertainly as I worked my way through a bowl of flakes, mind whirring.

Are they staying away from me? God, that could make things awkward... It was a lot of fun, but maybe it was a mistake? They seemed to kick me out pretty quick...

As if on cue, they sauntered into the room, looking unexpectedly unabashed and calm as they smiled at me. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

I blinked in surprise, pausing with my spoon halfway to my mouth. “I- uh... Not too bad, thanks. You?”

They stretched their arms overhead, and I swallowed dryly, carefully diverting my eyes from the half-inch of skin that showed from under their shirt. “Pretty good, in the end. Hey – it’s Tony’s party tonight, right? Are we still going?”

Nodding slowly, I lowered my gaze to my breakfast, feeling clumsy and wrong-footed. “Sure. If you like.”

Tony held a party every year the day before his and Steve’s anniversary – the day itself was just for the two of them, but they also wanted to celebrate with the team; the billionaire needed no excuse to host, after all. Liquor and laughter would be flowing freely, and it sounded like exactly what I need to avoid the uncomfortable conversation that was sure to arise at some point.

“Sounds great!” they replied readily, rolling a shirt over their shoulders. “I have a few calls to make today, but I’ll be back around three, if you want to head over together?”

I nodded silently, my eyes still on my food, perturbed by just how... Fine they seemed.

Like it never happened.

But my mind was filled with their whimpers and whines, the way they trembled as they filled themselves, their pants and groans as their back arched and they found their release...

I want it to happen again, I realised abruptly, and my gaze shot up to find myself alone in the kitchen, mouth half open to say as much.

They were quiet on the drive over to Stark Tower – though that was nothing unusual. Despite how many times they’d interacted with the team since the wedding, they still got anxious. They never said as much, but I could see it in their constantly shifting eyes, the way they wrapped their arms around themselves as if fighting to hold their nerves at bay. It was endearing, really, that they still got so shy and apprehensive around the group until they’d settled into the company.

“Doing okay?” I murmured as I pulled into the lot under the tower, earning a brief nod.

“Doing okay,” they assured me quietly, foot tapping out a staccato beat against the floor. I offered them a reassuring smile, uncertainly returned, and climbed from the car, an eye-wateringly expensive bottle of scotch in hand. Tony drank far less than he used to, for certain, but he still had an appreciation for the finer things in life – and he’d certainly taught Steve to appreciate a well-aged whisky.

“So, Tony and Steve; they were married before all this?” they asked, pulling their overshirt a little closer around themselves as waited for the elevator.

“Yeah. They’d been on the team together forever, but Steve was too... Stuck in his ways.” I grinned to myself with a shake of my head, fondly remembering the night Steve had sat before me, shaking and terrified, head bowed as he muttered his secret – one I’d been suspecting since we were kids, of course, but that made me feel no less honoured. He’d talked about discrimination and hate crimes and murder; he knew that most of those wouldn’t do him much physical harm, in the long run, but he hated the idea of being despised by anyone for simply being who he was.

I’d sworn to shield him as best I could – but I admit, my jaw hit the floor when he confessed that the man he had feelings for was none other than Tony Stark. But, true to my role as his best friend, I’d investigated tentatively, probing for any indication that the feelings were reciprocal. In the process, I’d been teased mercilessly by more than one member of the team; it seemed my investigating wasn’t quite as tentative as I’d hoped, and rumours spread quickly that I was the one lovestruck over the billionaire. I refused to out Steve like that – but in the end, the gossip was beneficial. Tony had heard the rumours through the grapevine and pulled me aside, oddly serious as he confessed that there was no chance for us, and ‘do you think Steve would be up for joining me for dinner sometime?’.

Eight months later, they were engaged, and married before they’d hit two years. It had seemed somewhat quick at the time, but Tony had never shown willing to settle down before, and his enthusiasm made it seem so very right. In the end, it was good they’d moved as swiftly as they had; both had – largely - avoided the harassment aimed at the superhuman community thanks to their pre-existing commitment.

And now it was three years later, and they were just as blissfully happy now as they were on their wedding day.

The elevator opened, jarring me from my thoughts, and my face broke into an automatic grin at the gathering of my nearest and dearest, laughing and chatting with affectionate camaraderie.

“Buck! Hey, man. And you brought the Buglet, huh?”

I offered Tony a half-wave, glancing at my spouse beside me, who simply blushed shyly. “Hey, Tone. Happy anniversary. Got you something.” I offered the scotch with a dramatic flourish, and he gasped theatrically.

“Just what I’ve always wanted! How did you know?” Tony exclaimed. Bug snorted loudly before covering their mouth in surprise, cheeks flushing crimson – but Tony simply reached out to pet their head adoringly. “Good to see you again, little one. Make yourself at home; this is always an event to remember. Eat, drink, and celebrate. Today’s for living, you know?”

Steve appeared by his side as if from nowhere, arm around his husband’s waist and an affectionate kiss to his stubbly cheek. “And each is better than the last with you, sweetheart,” he purred, earning an adoring sigh from Bug.

“You two are so cute,” they crooned, head tipped to one side as they smiled. “It’s nice to see folks so in love. Too much of marriage is just business these days.”

I winced minutely, but nobody seemed to notice – except Steve, whose eyes bore into mine intensely. “… Hey, Bucky, wanna come check out what we did with that en suite I was telling you about?”

It was a poor excuse, and Tony’s arched eyebrow more than gave away the flimsy lie, but I nodded anyway, falling into step behind my friend as he led the way through the throngs to his bedroom, offering nods and smiles of gratitude to his well-wishers until he closed the door against the noise, turning to face me. “… Well?”

“‘Well’ what?” I rebutted stubbornly, jaw set, and he rolled his eyes affectionately.

“You know exactly what, Barnes. What’s going on with you and Bug?”

I shifted uncomfortably for a moment before dropping onto the bed with a sigh, flopping back with a hand over my face. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you mean you-”

“Look, that- there was this… Thing, last night. Something happened, and now it’s like nothing happened, and I don’t have any idea what’s happening.” I sighed again, palm scrubbing over my skin frustratedly. “I don’t even know how to bring it up.”

He sat beside me quietly, one hand reaching out to rest on my shoulder gently. “… Can I say something?” I moved my hand to look at him, nodding weakly, and he offered me a small smile. “I’ve never seen you like this. So… Focused on someone else, like you move around them like they’re the centre of your universe. At some point, you started to orbit them. I don’t know exactly when you started to fall for them, but… I think you are.”

“I think I am,” I agreed, my voice barely audible, the acknowledgement settling into my chest heavily. “I… I think I am. Fuck.” My hand pushed through my hair as the full weight of the realisation hit me, air driven from my lungs, a deep and uncertain fear burrowing into my marrow. “What am I even supposed to do about that?”

“The only thing you can do, I suppose,” he noted softly, and his smile widened just a little as met my eye. “You talk to them, tell them how you feel. It may go badly… Or you may get everything you ever wanted.” His gaze flicked to the picture on his bedside table, the captured moment of his and Tony’s kiss during the wedding ceremony, and his grin became adoring and tender. “It’s a good way to live.”

Steve and I stayed in his room a little while longer, his polite listening acting as a sounding board for me to hypothesise how I wanted to approach the matter with my spouse. Half an hour later, the door opened, and I had a tentative plan and a modicum of confidence.

Until, that is, I spotted them leaning against the kitchen counter, head tipped sweetly, a soft smile playing on their lips.

And an archer standing far too close for my comfort, leaning in a little as he murmured to them.

My muscles tensed automatically as his hand found their arm and they laughed softly, inching nearer, less than a foot between their bodies. The sight froze me to my spot – but Barton’s hand shifting to rest on their hip thawed me, and I moved quickly, jaw set, and metal fingers clenched.

“What’s going on over here?” I muttered through gritted teeth and a forced smile, though the strain in my voice was evident.

Clint’s hand dropped and his eyes flicked uncertainly, but Bug simply chuckled. “I’m just getting to know the team a little better...”

Every minute detail of my plan was fully wiped from my mind, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’m leaving. Come if you like.”

Their expression turned from happiness to confusion as they nodded their agreement, shooting Clint one last, apologetic glance. “Uh... Sure, Buck. Of course.”

The drive back was silent and faster than it had any legal right to be. I could feel Bug’s tension beside me, my clearly heightened emotions making them uncomfortable, but I couldn’t force myself to calm down. The sight of his hand on their hip replayed endlessly in my mind, forcing my foot down harder on the gas, as if I could outrun the memory.

I have a lot of experience with that.

By the time I pulled up outside our apartment, the atmosphere was palpable, and they’d retreated into themselves uncertainly, arms wrapped around their waist as they shuffled inside.

I could only move through the home we shared with frantic, frustrated energy, searching for something to burn away this fury and convince me that no, I don’t need to go back and rearrange Barton’s face.

“Buck?” they offered tentatively, still stood in the middle of the living room. “Are... Are you okay?”

“Who the hell does he think he is,” I muttered, pushing a hand through my hair as I came to a stop in front of them, eyes darting in my endless quest for relief, “putting his hands on my spouse like that?”

They blinked in surprise and stepped closer, anxiety fading into confusion. “Clint? Look, Buck, I was flirting too, okay? If you’re worried that he was harassing me or something-”

“He shouldn’t have been flirting with you at all!” I snapped, gaze finding theirs at last. “You’re married, for God's sake.”

“I mean, technically, but it’s not like we’re married, y’know?” they replied, rolling their eyes. “It’s just business. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Yeah, well, I do!” I growled, stepping closer. “I don’t want to see you flirting with other men, do you hear me?”

They raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. “What interest is it of yours what I do? I mean, last night was fun, but I’m your spouse in name only, right? This was a transaction, Buck, it’s not like you’re in love with me or anything!”

“What if I am?!” I snarled, hands tightening by my sides. “What if seeing Clint’s hand on you made me want to rip off his fingers one by one and never let anyone touch you again? What if I want to be the only man with his hands on you? What then?”

The adrenaline left me as their eyes grew wide, and I slumped my shoulders, turning my head away. “I... Look, I didn’t want to do it like that... I wanted...”

What did I want?

There was a plan. A calm, civilised conversation.

But isn’t this more... Me? An accidental declaration borne of fury and jealousy? Threats and violence and anger?

They deserve more than to be shackled to m-

“I didn’t think you felt that way, too,” they murmured, interrupting my spiral, moving closer to put a hand on my arm, unphased by the tightness and the metal under their skin. “I... Just wanted to feel wanted. After you left last night...”

“I thought you wanted me to go,” I breathed, unable to tear my eyes from their fingers clenched against the vibranium as they shook their head fiercely.

“No! When you got up I wanted to ask you to stay, but I didn’t- I couldn’t... I didn’t know how.” They sniffed, and my gaze cut to theirs quickly, finding unshed tears lining their lashes and glistening in the low light. I moved to cup their cheek quickly, thumb brushing to catch a tear as it fell.

“Hey now... It’s okay. I’ve got you, little one,” I whispered, offering them a weak smile. “I’ll never leave again, not unless you tell me to.”

Without warning, they crushed themselves to my chest, arms tight around my waist as they burrowed in. I blinked in surprise, my grip careful as I returned the gesture, pressing a gentle kiss to their hair. “Buck?”

“Hm?” I replied, cheek resting on their head lightly.

“Will you take me to bed?” They looked up shyly, and I took them in, enraptured – the big brown eyes, the cheeks flushed minutely with embarrassment, the lip pulled between their teeth in their uncertainty – and my heart ached.

“I’d be honoured,” I breathed, fingers moving to tip their chin up lightly. Our only kiss before this had been cursory – transactional, as they’d said. But now, when my mouth met theirs, my veins burnt with the need of it all, sweetness quickly dissolving into a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. They whimpered in surprised delight as my hands found their ass to lift them easily, their own arms snaking around my waist to press themselves closer, calves braced against my lower back. A low groan escaped me as their fingers entwined in my hair, and I kissed them deeper, my pace fluid and fast as I carried them through to my bedroom.

“I’ve never been in here,” they breathed as I dropped them back onto the bed, their legs still clinging tightly to me. “Six months, and I never got past the doorway...”

“Well, we’re gonna make up for lost time,” I murmured, peppering kisses over their throat, eliciting a pitiful mewl and an arch of their back.

Oh... So that’s what it feels to have you do that against me. Delicious.

My hands found their waistband, fumbling for the belt. Heat rose in their cheeks as I met their gaze, but they nodded encouragingly, lifting their hips to let me remove the trademark shorts. “Hm. Interesting... Not what I’d have expected,” I breathed, trailing one fingertip lightly over their cotton-covered hip, surprised and pleased by the lack of skin covering the panties permitted. They blushed deeper, and I grinned, dropping to my knees between their thighs to trail gentle kisses along the inside of their leg. Another whimper, and their fingers found my hair once more to tug needily.

“Please, fuck...”

I glanced up, a devilish smirk tugging at my lips. “Mm. You’ll get what you need, little one. But first... You’ve been bad, and you need to be punished.”

A quick, eager nod had me flipping them over, ass offered willingly. I shifted their underwear down patiently, swallowing back a moan at the sight of the wet fabric, and smoothed a palm over their soft, unblemished skin. “You moved... Six inches closer to him. I think one per inch should suffice...”

They started to nod, but cut the motion short as they let out a moan when my hand met their ass, leaving a faint red mark in its wake. I smiled to myself as goosebumps erupted over their skin, hips pressing up minutely, silently begging for more.

You enjoy this, hm? Interesting...

The second slap met more firmly and they yelped, but their hips rose again, encouraging and pleading. It appeared I’d found their sweet spot, and the last three came in quick succession, leaving glowing skin in their wake – and a thin thread of wetness to their thighs as they squirmed happily.

“Thank you, Sir,” they breathed, and my heart about stopped. I flipped them quickly and all but tore their underwear from their legs, dropping to my knees and dragging them closer to bury my face in their sweet, leaking cunt rapturously. The act earned me a deafening moan, hips jerking to press me closer as I lapped at them ravenously. “Fuck! Fuck, Buck, just like that- oh God, please...”

Fingertips probed questioning at their wetness, and they whined their assent, shifting nearer with a feral desperation. Their breath hitched as two fingers worked their way inside them, the only sounds to be heard my soft moans and the erotic melody of my hand moving inside them, until they found their voice once more. “Please – Buck, fuck, I can’t- I-I need to- I’m going to-”

“That’s it, baby,” I purred, leaning back just far enough to murmur under my breath. “I want everything you have before I fuck this pretty little pussy and make you scream.”

My words sent them over the edge as my lips wrapped around their clit, fingers working eagerly against their walls as their wetness spread steadily along my wrist. Their cry made my already aching cock pulsate, and I groaned against them as they cried out, pressing themselves desperately against me as their pussy clenched frantically around my hand.

I lapped lovingly at their fluttering cunt as they trembled through the comedown, soft whines and whimpers spilling from their parted lips, fingers shifting from clenching to caressing weakly. “Oh, God...”

A quiet purr radiated in my chest, my tongue passing one last time over the length of their slit before my lips brushed slowly over their abdomen, shifting patiently higher as they trilled under their breath. “Good?” I murmured, kissing them tenderly, grinning when they could only nod weakly in response. One hand reached out, and their eyes widened infinitesimally as their palm pressed against the straining in my jeans.

“Please...” they breathed, fingers tensing against me, and I offered them a teasing grin.

“Sure you can take it?”

They nodded eagerly, hand curling against my length needily. “I- I’m gonna do my best…”

With a soft groan, I shimmied down my jeans, barely getting them to my thighs before I was moving on to my boxers. Their quiet whining and wide eyes were incensing, and as I teased my tip against their slick cunt, their pupils flared with lust, drawing me in until I pressed closer as if hypnotised, moving my lips to theirs and sinking into them in slow unison. Their soft whimper sounded against my mouth as I buried myself inside them inch by inch – but as I paused, a hand found my hip, their whines ratcheting up a notch as they pulled me closer insistently. “Don’t stop – don’t stop, please…”

My mouth found theirs more firmly as I bottomed out, shuddering at the feeling of them stretched around my length, my breaths coming short and sharp as I resisted the urge to fuck them without mercy. Their legs wrapped around my waist and their back arched, lips and eyes wide. “You okay?” I breathed, kissing along their jaw as they nodded eagerly.

“Feels so good… So full…” they whimpered, fingers curling against my spine. “Please – fuck, please, Buck…”

I shifted slowly and they groaned, head tipping back in ecstasy as I moved inside them. “You feel so good, baby… So tight wrapped around me like that…” I breathed, nipping lightly at their ear, and they squirmed happily. “Oh, you like that, baby? Like being told how good you are – how amazing you feel?” They nodded shyly, and I grinned, rolling my hips a little faster. “You take it so well – so beautiful while I’m splitting you open like that…”

“Please,” they whined again, tugging insistently at my hips as their calves gripped me tighter, back arching. “Please – fuck me, Buck. Let me make you feel so, so good… Make me feel so good…”

My hips snapped forward and they moaned in pure joy, fingernails digging into my skin frantically as I set up a fast, hard pace, moving to tangle a hand in their hair and press my forehead to theirs, the other hand shifting to caress their clit with devoted eagerness. The wordless whines and begs that spilled from their lips only heightened my need, their desperate pants spilling over my lips as their body tightened once more. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. You’re so good for me. I want you to come for me, sweetheart. Make that perfect pussy hold on so tight while I fill you up… Such a gorgeous, flawless critter…”

They gasped and cried out immediately, back arching, hips rutting frantically as their muscles clenched around me. The unintelligible whimpers and pleads, the way they clenched around me; it was enough to break the strongest of men, and I groaned as I emptied myself inside them, face finding their throat to burrow desperately.

I lay panting with my head on their shoulder, one leg hooked over theirs, their fingers caressing my hair tenderly.

“I love you, you know?” I murmured, pressing soft kisses along their throat, and they hummed happily.

“I love you too… Y’know, I think signing up for that program may have been the smartest thing I ever did.”

With a laugh, I leant up on my elbow, catching their mouth with mine in an act of utter devotion. “Back at you, sweetheart.”

[incorrectcompoundnotes]

Sam: You know it’s legal now, right?

Bucky: What is?

Sam: Being gay

Bucky: Oh. Good for them?

Sam: …That’s all you’re gonna say?

Bucky, holding Steve’s hand and sharing food with him: Yeah, why? I ain’t gay.

[everyoneisgayandtrans]

[manichewitz]

straight men will write stories where two men choose each other over women over and over and again and the narrative will continuously emphasize the bond between the two men over all other emotional connections…and then get confused when queer people relate to that for some reason

[hurtspideyparker]

Never forget:

Steve Rogers was a theatre kid, starred in movies, wore micro shorts and tights everyday on stage (Bucky: You're keeping the outfit right?), and lost his virginity to a groupie

Bucky Barnes is a nerd—eager to go to the Stark Expo science exhibit, read the Hobbit books as soon as they were released—and was also a great dancer. 1940s dating culture involved a lot of dancing, and good dancers got dates

[punkbarnes2]

Happy #pridemonth babies, celebrate pride wherever you are, all queer experiencies are beautiful and valid, don't forget to support your queer friends and p*nch h*m*phobes These are hard times, but we will thrive, we always did 🏳️‍🌈💕

[buckymilf]

this parallel was my roman empire

screencap credits to @suburbanlegends-tv

[reveryfics]

Slow Dancing

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x male reader

Summary: it's nearly three in the morning, you and Bucky dance across the living room under the candle light as soft tunes play.

A/n: Something short and sweet. Requests open.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The antique grandfather clock in the hall chimed three times, its deep tones echoing through the quiet house. Moonlight, pale and ethereal, streamed through the sheer curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light. The cozy living room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of a few strategically placed candles, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn wooden floor.

A melancholic melody, a timeless jazz tune, drifted from the old, well-worn record player perched on a vintage side table. The needle occasionally skipped, a momentary stutter in the smooth flow of the music, but the rhythm continued, a comforting heartbeat in the stillness of the night.

Bucky, his face etched with a lifetime of stories, held his husband close. Their bodies moved in perfect synchronicity, a practiced dance born from countless evenings like this. His husband, a picture of contentment, rested his head against Bucky's chest, a soft sigh escaping his lips. The steady thump of Bucky's heart, a comforting rhythm against his ear, mingled with the music, creating a lullaby of love and peace.

Bucky, his gaze fixed on the shadows playing on the walls, whispered, "Remember the day I married you? As handsome as ever."

His husband chuckled, his head still nestled against Bucky's chest. "Could say the same for you, James. Just a little less rugged." He teased, his voice a low rumble.

He loved everything about Bucky, the gruff exterior that masked a heart of gold, the way he always insisted on certain traditions, a holdover from a bygone era, a time before the war, a time before... everything. It was how Bucky showed his love, a stubborn insistence on the past, a way to cling to a semblance of normalcy in a world that had tried to shatter him.

The record skipped again, the music faltering, but they continued to dance, their movements fluid and effortless. Bucky gently dipped his husband, a slow, graceful motion, before pulling him back close. It was a ritual, this nightly dance, a cherished tradition born from the joy of their wedding day. Every weekend, without fail, they would pull out the old record, the one that had played during their first dance, and dance beneath the soft glow of candlelight, lost in the magic of the moment.

Alpine, their snow-white cat, a majestic creature, observed them from his perch atop the velvet armchair. He occasionally rubbed against their legs, a soft, furry purr rumbling in his chest.

It was a simple moment, a quiet dance under the watchful gaze of the moon, yet it held a profound beauty. A testament to their love, a reminder of the joy they had found in each other, a promise of countless more evenings like this, filled with the music of their love and the warmth of their shared memories.

[queers-gambit]

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

a collection of varying Muses labeling Reader as "clingy".

featuring muses: Carmy Berzatto, mafia!Bucky Barnes, modern! and canon!Aemond Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, and Joel Miller.

"The enemy uses those things you're insecure about. Free yourself and take your power back by being secure in who you are - flaws and all," — The Day My Soul Cried: A Memoir by American award-winning playwright, producer, screenwriter, podcaster, advocate, Yvonne Pierre

status: active

-> will be updated accordingly

requests OPEN requesting rules and masterlist

"Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime," — Mineko Iwasaki, Japanese businesswoman, icon, and the most famous Geisha. author of Geisha, a Life

🍒 pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

God's Plan

your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. -> or being called clingy [during a fight].

word count: 3.1k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥺 hurt 🚫 no REAL comfort 🙊 general language and content warning 💍 established relationship 💣 relationship angst 😭 breaking up 🍄 toxic relationship 🐍 allusion to toxic family 🧠 kinda mental health 🔏 not edited

read here

part two: Two to Tango

the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

word count: 5.4k+

🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💔 small angst 🧸 small fluff ☠️ discussion of deceased family member 🙊 general language and content warning 💣 relationship angst 🔏 barely edited

cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

read here

🍒 pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader fandom masterlist: Marvel

Curiosity Killed The Cat

few weeks after rescuing you from a kidnapper, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become. -> or overhearing being called clingy.

word count: 5.1k+

🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🦋 modern AU 💸 mafia AU 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 brief depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🫠 description of self-destruction 🔏 barely edited

read here

🍒 pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

You Might Think It's Foolish

meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. -> or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

-> modern!Aemond

word count: 3.1k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥺 hurt 🚫 no comfort 💣 relationship angst 🐝 oneshot / stand alone 🙊 general language and content warning 🐍 toxic family 🍄 toxic relationship...? 🦋 modern AU 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

-> canon!Aemond

word count: 18.3k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥀 unrequited love 🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort 💣 relationship angst 👯‍♀️ BFF trope 🍒 author's favorite 🐝 stand alone / oneshot 🙊 general language and content warning 🍄 toxic relationship 🥂 alcohol mentions 💛 requires maturity and caution 🚺 misogyny 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 🫠 depiction of self-destruction 🍑 character with given nickname ⏳ AU timeline 🦻 eavesdropping trope ❗️ single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure 🚹 men 2️⃣ written after season two 🔏 not edited

read here

🍒 pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

Not All That Glitters is Gold

during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. -> or (publicly) discovering you're being called clingy by your man from someone else.

word count: 3.1k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💣 relationship angst ⏳ AU timeline 🙊 general language and content warning 🔏 barely edited

read here

🍒 pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

Save Me From Myself

( requested ) in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

word count: 1.9k+ rewritten word count: 6.5k+

⚠️ mild spoilers 🙊 general language and content warning 🥺 hurt 🚫 no comfort 🐝 oneshot (sequel requested and being written) 🛑 kinda abrupt ending 🕊 mentions deceased child (Sarah) 💔 angst 🧸 mild fluff 🎭 drama 🥰 little bit of romance 👴🏻 legal age gap 🫶 kinda forbidden love 🔞 romantically written characters aged 18+ 💣 relationship angst 🍭 kinda friends to lovers 😭 kinda a break-up? ♻️ friends to lovers to enemies 🤬 depiction of verbal aggression 🥂 alcohol consumption 💚 kinda villainized Tess 📍 specific warnings in fic ✝️ possible Lord's name in vain - i forgot to check 🧠 depiction / illusion to anxiety 🤡 feelings are hard 🧍 use of Y/N ❗️ REWRITTEN 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

🍒 pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

Pretty Boy Swag

your big ass family comes to town and hosts a town-wide family reunion. after they meet your boyfriend for the first time, your proximity is criticized, and when you try to fall back, Eddie's swift to your side again. -> or when someone else calls you clingy, you try to fall back but your man doesn't want that.

word count: 6.2k+

⏳ AU timeline 🐝 stand alone / oneshot 🙊 general language and content 🐍 toxic family 🎭 drama 🧠 depiction of mental health: insecurity, anxiety 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🧸 some fluff 🚬 drug use 🥂 depiction of alcohol use 💍 established relationship 🥰 romance 🛑 abrupt ending 🔏 not edited

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

french version here

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[negasonic9403]

I always forget how gay Captain America: The First Avenger is. Like Steve goes 30 miles behind heavily armed enemy lines for his best guy that's incredibly likely to be dead. That's a queer if I've ever seen one

[the-voice-beckons-below]

the last prayer

bucky barnes x deity reader (he/him, third person)

this is my entry for @elixirfromthestars ‘s cinema writing contest! it’s probably quite an out there prompt but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! (dialogue prompt used: “it’s okay, i’ve got you now”)

synopsis: a decade has passed since the initial capture of james ‘bucky’ barnes, who after so long is finally running out of time to save his humanity. which is why for some reason he makes the absurd choice to pray, and unbeknownst to him, wakes something dark and ancient.

warnings: torture, violence, hints to murder, angst (it’s bucky, very expected). it’s not super religious, reader is like a god the way loki or thor is buttt there’s a few more mechanics to it involving worship and dormancy.

wordcount: 3,045

there is no god.

not within hydra’s snare, not within the depths of torture and brainwashing that has now spanned across years.

hope has long since been abandoned, if there is a hell, this is it, there is surely nowhere worse than this.

so bucky doesn’t know why in the heat of it all, while clutching at the tethers he’s been desperately hanging onto, the fragments of who he was - is, where they try to pull him apart once more, that he suddenly decides to hopelessly pray.

he does it silently in his head, viewing himself opaquely from behind a looking glass as they beckon him to become a machine. it is clear that soon, he will be buried within his own body, that something mechanical will take over to do terrible, terrible things. bucky knows by now that there is no light at the end of this tunnel, only blood, only death, caused by hands that are somehow attached to him.

he isn’t ready for when they finally break him.

there is no answer, the assumption can only be correct as they strap him down tighter into that blasted chair and try to forcibly fry his mind. electricity fizzles and crackles all throughout his head, it will forever burn, even when he’s not in the chair he feels it, a phantom pressure seeping beyond his socket, that is hard to discern if it’s real or false.

the harsh truth echoes all around him, reverberates in his bones.

no one is coming to save bucky barnes.

well, bucky barnes died falling from that train, he died the second hydra sunk their claws in. he is continuously dying as they slowly dissect whatever is left, they are in real time, attempting to convert him into an object, into a machine without autonomy or control.

they are trying to take away what is innately human. his thoughts, his feelings, they will be scrapped and forged into programming, orders and targets.

so yes, it is very obvious by now that no one is coming to rescue him from this.

what he isn’t aware of, is how wrong he actually is. this time bucky has not been ignored, something has noticed the anguish plaguing him, and it listens with rapt attention. it hangs achingly on every word, every cry, that echoes from him.

it is heard by a previously dormant god stirring awake from the depths, for the very first time in centuries. he wakes up nestled between dusty and crumpled ruins, what might’ve been an altar in his name, there are no scriptures or scrolls, it seems that he has been forgotten until now. a deity who slumbered without a single follower or believer for an untold amount of years, suddenly awoken by the most desperate and profoundly broken plea he’d ever heard.

there is barely time to look around, for the environment to sink in. why had his final resting place been here? why was he forgotten? who was his last devotee? a million questions flood his long, awaiting, buzzing body. a fizzle creeps inside his gut the longer he waits, the more he lingers and doesn’t attend to that sharp, hopeless call.

the god doesn’t falter, he brushes any tiredness away, this is his first follower in a long time, and they need him.

the scene that greets him does not aid his protectiveness, it only trebles it. it is no wonder the call had seemed wrenching, what is being done is unfathomable, a contraption which from just one look seems sickening. restraining a man, holding him so tightly in place, and the thing lodged against the eye is horrific.

whatever the plate attached to the right side of the face is, it’s certainly alive, spitting live sparks and light straight against skin. the person in the chair is biting down so hard that he’s surprised the other’s teeth aren’t cracking under the fierce pressure of their jaw locking. despite his caller’s mouth being firmly shut, the screams pouring out are barely muffled, they’re guttural, raw, and they make the god’s stomach twist even more.

it is nothing like he has ever seen before, and he has seen countless of lives, of mortals, their squabbles and war, their arguments and their loves. this surely cannot be the doing of humankind, it is too cruel, how can someone mutilate another in such a way?

but his eyes are not deceiving, there are humans in white coats roaming all around, ignoring the one so obviously in excruciating pain. they are used to it, that realisation alone makes his blood boil.

he cannot withstand it a moment longer, any previous silent acknowledgement to not meddle with mortals unwinds far from him. it doesn’t matter anymore, there is no religion in his name, it is just him and this one small devotee, soaked in pain and suffering.

so when he finally steps out of the shadows, now visible to the human eye, he doesn’t bother with politeness or pleasantries, those were already revoked at this point. there is no forgiveness, gentleness or compassion in the way he squanders the crowd surrounding the caller. it is a mess of screams, thick black clouds swamp the room, none of what occurs can be seen, but it undoubtedly violent, twisted, and permanent.

he just hopes if the soldier in the chair was watching, the smoke obscured it enough. to the god’s horror, the machine is still on, whirring and humming hauntingly. he doesn’t know what it is, what it does, but he strides towards it with panic anyway, and frantically rips it all off, searching for injury with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you now.” he means it, this stranger is just that, a stranger, someone he does not know, yet the urge to take care of the other is overwhelming. “can you speak? what is your name?”

the voice that answers him is gravelly, spoken by a spent and tired man, “m’bucky, my name, it’s…it’s bucky.”

it is clear that bucky is delirious, stuck in a heady haze from whatever just occurred, because it takes him a few seconds to register the mass of people are gone, that the thing speaking to him isn’t human, that he’s being touched by someone who might once again hurt him. it isn’t a surprise that he flinches, and then tries to scramble away, it’s like his entire body gets dunked in total fear.

the god moves back immediately, unable to help the frown overcoming his face, the last thing he wanted was to scare this bucky. thinking quickly, he changes tactics and crouches lower to the ground, akin to approaching a spooked animal, his hulking body looks awkward with trying to appear small. “you called for me. i will not hurt you.”

bucky’s steel eyes flash with confusion, then uncertainty, then anger. “that’s not funny. i don’t know who you are, but just get it over with, don’t fucking play with me.”

a part of him wants to huff, to scowl at the way a mortal is talking to him, but he can’t really find it within himself to care enough about it. this human is unique, an enigma that doesn’t even know itself. instead of frustration, he sinks deeper into patience for this new follower.

slowly, he reaches towards the soldier, watching carefully for any jerky movements or instinctual reactions, when all he finds is wary glances at his hand, he continues, softly pressing the pads of his fingers against bucky’s ear that is lightly bleeding. it is miraculous what gods can do, how much magic they have within just their very fingertips, in the next moment, the trickle of blood is gone.

it looks like there was no injury to begin with. he repeats the action around the man’s head, and even around the shoulder which is deeply scarred and yet seemingly still deeply painful and sore. after the deity is done, he leans back, intently watching bucky’s face.

his brows are furrowed, lips parted, he appears to be a breath away from an argument or accusation. his muscles are pulled taut, ineffably tense, the metal of his left arm creaks. “you’re fucking kidding me. there is a god…and it took you this long?” it comes out flat and the laugh that leaves bucky is humourless, a bark that’s full of venom.

he doesn’t know what to say, there isn’t much to be said. despite the words spoken, there is not just hatred in bucky’s eyes, there’s also relief, but it seems neatly tucked away behind anger. “there’s multiple actually,” he awkwardly stops that sentence at the look on bucky’s face, half disbelieving and the other half pissed off. “i’ve just been dormant.”

the man borders on a scowl, “what do you mean dormant?” there seems to be more movement in his body now, enough so that he squirms to get out the chair, but immediately falls to his knees when he does, the deity is there to catch him, keeping him relatively upright. bucky huffs at the touch, his body still a little slack, the god shudders from the heat radiating off the human and pulls back enough to give him space. its been a long time since he's felt any warmth.

“i haven’t had anyone pray to me for a long time. so, i was dormant, asleep, unable to wake up until someone woke me. you did.” it's a clipped admission, like he is covering up how raw the reality actually is.

there’s a pause, a breath of confusion, “i did?”

he nods back to bucky, “you did." he then hesitantly adds, "i am sorry that i couldn’t come sooner.” there is a guilt that claws at his chest, bubbling up straight to his throat, where he is unable to swallow, “but i’m here now, and no one will hurt you, not while i’m here.”

he guides bucky far away from the chair, and then uses his magic to take them somewhere even farther, absent from the effects of time and humanity. it is extremely void-like, an ocean of ink that spans an unfathomable distance, yet it is not cold. more than anything it is comfortable, peaceful, if you focus hard enough you can hear the distant tweets of birds or the hustle and bustle of brooklyn.

atleast that’s what bucky hears, it’s a place designed to be safe, reminiscent of home. “why save me? could’ve just left me there.”

“i wouldn’t have.” its the truth, “and you needed me. you called for me.”

“i still don’t get it.” he scowls, but it holds almost no malice, he stares up at the god, eyes searching for something, for a hint of betrayal or bad intentions.

the skepticism finally washes off bucky’s face, whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it, he is probably too tired to keep his guard up, he’s been doing that for years. this place has the sounds of brooklyn, when he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear his ma’s voice, gentle, coaxing in his ears to rest. he’s been solely burning on reserves that haven’t existed, fighting against a force that was bound to always beat him, until a god decided to fight in his corner, which is still incredibly hard to wrap his muddled head around.

“you should rest.” the god speaks again, gaze flickering to bucky with an emotion the soldier can’t decipher. he settles down on his knees, huge body furling against the ground, and he watches bucky absentmindedly.

there is still that strange expression coated on the god’s face, almost like the start of a goodbye, close to fond and sad.

“where do i slee-“ before bucky can even finish, there is a bed conjured right in front of him, obscenely big compared to the cramped bed he used to sleep in, the apartment in brooklyn he shared with steve, with chipped walls and its slightly stale air. this bed would cost a fortune, he feels odd even stepping towards it. the question of how it appeared lingers on his tongue, but he’s too exhausted to question it, a god is right next to him, he doesn’t have the capacity to think about what a god can’t do. “oh.”

he still hesitates to clamber into it’s mountainous duvet and circle of fluffy pillows. even though the deity healed parts of him, there is still an awful ache that weighs him down, it’s like any sort of pain is clinging to him, whether it’s imaginary or not. subconsciously it feels like a trick, it can’t be safe can it? he’s not safe from hydra anywhere, they will always find him, he is just property-

“rest.” the god repeats, firmly, but almost faltering. “you’re not needed yet, i’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“hey now-“

bucky doesn’t even have time to question that sentence, the moment his body sags onto the bed, it feels like coming home. there are inklings of steve, his ma, his siblings, brooklyn, everywhere and everyone he has ever loved, he hears them faintly, he smells them distantly. it is enough to lull him to sleep almost instantaneously, so even though he wanted to narrow his eyes and demand what that statement meant, he cannot. his mouth fills with cotton, his body weights what feels like tonnes, he is warm, he feels safe.

his eyes droop as he melts into the duvet, it is warm, comfortable, such a contrast compared to the agonising frost of cryo. there is a semblance of peace that nestles into his worn bones, it’s the first time in a long time that he can breathe, exist, without an abnormal amount of pain. in this odd bed, in an incomprehensible realm, bucky slips into a soft slumber.

bucky barnes has a larger purpose, he cannot just go back to brooklyn, he is needed, decades in the future. he will wake up to find his best friend was presumed dead and yet was somehow found, buried in a block of ice. somehow him and steve will have survived, and they will find each other again. both of their families will be mostly long gone, as well as everyone they ever knew, but they will have each other.

and bucky barnes will have avoided the reality where he got moulded into a killing machine, ruined beyond comprehension that he forgot who he was entirely. there is still a lot of work to do in this version, the man is still traumatised, may forever be wounded by what was done to him, and there is no guarantee in the future that hydra won’t get him again and finish the job, but atleast for now, he is alright. he is asleep.

the god will watch over, and will also be alone for around 60 years. no one will pray to him, he is quite sure of it, whatever happened with bucky was purely accidental, but he is glad it happened. his larger purpose is making sure bucky gets where he’s needed, and then after that? well, it will likely be dormancy, and this time, permanently. it is something he’ll need to make peace with, not now, but eventually.

after a few years, he momentarily departs from bucky, triple checking that the man is still comfortable and sleeping, and then heads to where he woke up.

it is still abandoned, desolate, it is in all, a sad sight. he meticulously checks everything, each compartment and nook is empty, ransacked. his gut twists with the realisation that they removed him from history, there isn’t a singular scroll or scripture. there is an urge to cry that wells within his chest, he has officially failed in his godhood, but it is fine, it has to be fine.

it may be hours or days that he spends wallowing in those ruins, raking over it what feels like a million times, committing the pathetic structure into memory, as if it might change for the better, or maybe because he won’t see it again. he has no plans to depart from bucky once more, there is no one else to visit, so he leans down, right next to the barren altar and presses a featherlight kiss to the cracked, carved stone. it is a goodbye for all those he failed, and all those who once followed him.

when he returns, bucky is still sleeping, but he has fidgeted with his metal arm, it glints and gleams, rippling with a hypnotising light. it is still strange to see, he doesn’t know whether to scorn it or admire it on the man knowing the way it got there must’ve been from a deep tragedy. there is a big chance he will never get the opportunity to ask how he got it, and a small pit of sadness swells within him.

despite it all, bucky is a vision, face messily framed by a brown mane, long eyelashes, slightly parted lips and his scratchy stubble. the scars on him are far from grotesque, they paint a picture so vivid he is unsure if he can look away. this man has survived, and in the future some day he will live again.

in all of his years existing as a deity, watching and observing lives but never living one himself, he lets himself yearn, for just one singular moment. what would it had been like? to chase fulfilment? perhaps love? it sounds odd, but the most emotion he’s ever felt is now, in the presence of being forgotten, but also protecting bucky. a part of him desires to inch closer to the man, to cradle him, or even weave his hand through that brown hair. he wishes to provide comfort for someone who’s been deprived of it for so long, but he sits perfectly still, and watches, just like he’s always done.

he has never been quite so attached to a singular mortal before. it could be because it’s the last one he might ever see, but that’s already false. there is something undeniably magnetising about this man, so, he finds himself quite lucky to be the one to watch over him for the next few decades.

it is a privilege to guard bucky barnes, he concludes.

divider creds: @strangergraphics-archive

author's notes (it turned into a huge rant be warned): if im entirely honest its been hard to write what ive wanted to write recently, partly because i felt obligated to cater to a wider audience. i put a lot of pressure on myself because i thought people wouldn't really read if i wrote a reader that was trans or used he/him. i am trying to get out of that mindset, and attempting to write whatever id like to, i think its just the people pleasing side of me being a little too incessant. this however was a step to writing what i wanted, and for that reason im really happy with it.

this is turning into an author’s ramble, if you’re curious on what happens to the god/what the god looks like in my mind, here’s the answer: some of the canon mcu events still did happen, the initial plan for the god was to watch over bucky for around 60 years, but bucky may have been needed by fate sooner. in any case, no matter when bucky wakes up, the god is expecting to go dormant, except i like to think that bucky doesn’t necessarily worship this god, but definitely remembers him, thinks of him in hard times, and in doing so the god stays alive, and dutifully (and excitedly) watches bucky’s life. he very predictably falls in love with bucky, but never takes action. the next time these two actually see each other would be after thanos’ snap, and when bucky blips, he ends up in the god’s realm. i imagine this time that bucky would refuse to sleep, insisting on knowing what’s going on in the world while he technically doesn’t exist anymore.

it would be such an interesting dynamic imo, bucky reuniting with this old god that saved him, knowing that he’s actually not forever dead because otherwise he’d be somewhere different, so he knows sometime in the future the avengers figure out how to undo the snap, and in the meantime he sets it as his goal to befriend this giant god who he only briefly got to speak to in what feels like a past life. i think by the end of it, when bucky gets snapped back, the god promises to visit bucky properly, because after five years of talking and keeping each other company, they’re quite close. this deity loves bucky fiercely, and bucky is probably a little taken aback when he realises, but eventually tries to show reciprocation.

can you imagine the faces of the avengers when one day this GIANT humanoid thing is walking behind bucky like a scary dog and they’re like tf is that??? are we just going to ignore that eldritch being hello???

that brings me to what i picture this god to look like personally, everyone’s interpretations upon reading will be different which i love!! i see him as huge in height, potentially multiple arms, shadow-like in the sense he’s pure black, his skin almost looks like a void, im imagining white eyes (perhaps multiple), and he’s both sharp and soft.

one last thing, i’d like to thank my one mootie for giving me the motivation to start writing more, you know who you are beloved!! (not tagging because i’m not sure if a he/him reader is your cup of tea but i wanted to do an end credits dedication to you mwah mwah 💕!!)

i said one last thing but i lied, im hoping i can maybe do one more entry for this challenge, it’s a great motivator and the prompts are simply amazing!! thank you so much EVERYONE who reads this at any point in time, it means the world to me <3

also song that helped to keep inspiring the fic was “about you” by the 1975

[mischa-leper]

I love these queers

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

while i will always love and appreciate the bisexual dean winchester agenda, i truly believe that if he was raised differently—or maybe if he grew up today instead—that boy would have been gay. like his love for women in a romantic/sexual context was always such a caricature and was continuously used as a symbol of masculinity that played against the roles assigned to him by his father growing up for the sake of suppressing any queerness he might exhibit. now whether that suppression was purposely written into his character or was a reaction to the character they had created, i’m not sure, but it’s there regardless.

i don’t mean to dismiss the love he felt for cassie or lisa, but particularly with lisa, i’m not sure he was ever in love with her, despite the fact that he did care for both her and ben. i get so frustrated watching the end of s5 because him going to her house and his perfect “apple pie life” being with her in suburbia genuinely came out of nowhere and i’ve never understood a) why it had to happen, and b) why it had to be lisa. but thinking about it in this sense, she was the closest thing he had in his life to everything he was raised to believe he should want by one john winchester, who lost his perfect wife, perfect family, perfect apple pie life and sent all of them down this path in the first place. so of course to dean, his happy ending would be with someone like lisa. but that’s the important part. someone like lisa, not lisa herself. he may have had love for her and he may have been able to picture a life with her, but it wasn’t necessarily because she was everything he wanted; she was a symbol of the things that tore his family apart and so to be with her felt like he was finally able to put some of it back together. and that makes me so sad for him because all of that is a result of the sense of responsibility ingrained in him growing up by john, not something he wanted for himself.

but back to his general attitude towards women, there was an excellent post that said he only acts like the typical womanizer he has a reputation for being around women deemed “stereotypical” by the misogynistic perspective. otherwise, he tends to take on a fairly brotherly role; he doesn’t tend to pursue any women he can “take seriously,” and is more intimidated or impressed by them than anything else. with the exception of cassie (which was pre-series and we never got full context for in the first place), he only ever pursued women with whom he would have a definitive ending—by that i mean women who he knows he’ll never see again or who would have a clearly defined role during the time they’re together that wouldn’t threaten the status quo. and yes these could also be the traits of a commitment-phobe or someone chronically on the move, but for one, sam doesn’t tend to do the same thing (see ruby, amelia, and eileen), and for two, given the things i mentioned already, it makes me consider it more of a result of him not actually being interested in women romantically.

his reaction to women when not purposely used as the butt of a joke or to perpetuate the “womanizer dean winchester” agenda is often so innately fraternal, caring in a way that doesn’t have any expectations behind it. and when there is a romantic context, so much of the relationship can be attributed to the way john raised him and the beliefs he has as a direct result; it’s never simply been built on the foundation of love.

every time he is dismissed as this macho het guy, it also dismisses so much of what makes him a wonderful character, and yes a lot of that is his queerness. so in a world where he didn’t grow up with roles and responsibilities that shaped him into someone he knew his dad hated and forced him to create this character for himself in order to survive? i think he would have been gay and he would have been okay with that.

[hurtcomforted]

That headcanon that all the double dates Bucky took Steve on were actually him helping out sapphic couples and having an excuse to spend time with Steve >>>

Ugh, now I need a fic about Bucky being very involved in Brooklyn's queer scene before the war

[punkbarnes2]

I've been obsessed with Orville Peck last couple days and someone once said that one of my Bucky drawings resembled him, so here's the big deal