#duke bucky

[elixirfromthestars]

My Dearest

Pairing: Duke!Bucky Barnes x Lady!Reader (Regency Era AU — Bridgerton Inspired ) 

Summary: On the night of Lady Maximoff’s ball you find yourself in the gardens, troubled by your emotions. As if by fate, the rain pours down reuniting you with the one who is the very object of your troubles.

Word Count: 3k

Warning(s): heartbreak / angst / longing / implications of cheating / rejection / creative liberties for this era (yes I did do research, but bear with me if there are any inaccuracies in this piece of fiction 🤍) / a surprise cameo / female reader

a/n: This little piece has been in the works since I got into the Bridgerton series. Binge-watching the spinoff Queen Charlotte this weekend gave me the motivation to finish this piece. Thank you for reading! 🤍 Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ❤️

for ambiance 🌧️

Your fingertips poked at the surface of the water in the fountain. Unstemmed red carnations danced along the water to the rhythm of the ripples. The faint music of the ballroom was ever so slightly drowned out by the stream pouring from the fountain at the center of the garden. You were sitting on the edge of it, hoping to ease your nerves with some fresh air. You wished you had brought a coin with you to throw in the fountain and wish your worries away. 

Wishes, however, were for children and the fairytales they believed in. You were no longer a child nor were you in a fairytale—much to your dismay. Your father made sure you knew of this, reminding you of your duties at every possibility. As the only child of the one and only Earl L/n, you were expected to marry into a higher status. Your mother, on the other hand, wished for you to marry for love and nothing more. 

You thought you had found both—you almost had both. 

Unfortunately, the one you truly desired broke your heart before he even fully had it. You pushed the thought of him away, for he was the very reason your emotions were an entangled mess. 

You looked down at your ball gown, its baby blue color muted by the lack of lighting in the approach of nightfall. You tugged at the ends of it lightly, wanting nothing more than to be at home wearing your nightgown instead. One of your favorite romance novels in hand, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. You always dreamed of having your own happily ever after, and for a while, you thought you had. A love story any poet would be over the moon to muse over. 

You were sadly mistaken.

A few droplets of rain plopped themselves onto your arm. You scanned the sky above you, the once royal blue evening turning a smoky grey. A clear sign it would soon start to rain. It was only a slight drizzle, making you realize a few of those fallen droplets weren’t from the clouds above, but from your very own eyes. 

You couldn’t let the prince see you like this.

You rose from your spot and searched the garden for a place to compose yourself. In the near distance stood a greenhouse decorated with overgrown ivy, obstructing the view of the inside. A perfect place to hide away from your troubles and the rain.  

You lifted the ends of your ball gown, making sure to not muddy or tear any part of it, as you made your way to the greenhouse. You stepped inside, immediately enamored with the various flora surrounding you. You knew Lady Maximoff treasured her garden, but never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up the breathtaking view before you.

You strolled along the path, taking it all in. The rain started to come down in a pour, ridding any outside noise from coming through. Thus making it harder to hear the footsteps that were approaching you.

“ Y/n? My dearest, what are you doing here?” You froze in your spot, recognizing the voice of the one who broke your heart. You turned to see James Buchanan Barnes the Duke of Brooklyn standing a few feet away from you, drenched from head to toe. It seems he too was caught in the rain. 

“ Your grace, my apologies. I did not know you were here. Please excuse me,” you attempted to remove yourself from the situation, but he wouldn’t let you. Stopping you by your hands, holding them delicately. 

A frown overtook his features,“ Why do you address me so formally? Have we not grown past this?”

You swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell on this topic of conversation for long,“ We did, but like anything that grows, there comes a time when it withers. We have withered.” 

You yanked yourself from his grasp, his mouth parting in disbelief, “ Y/n, what are you saying? Is this because of the prince? Have you indeed traded your love for me for the status he can bring you?” He threw the accusation in your face with such disdain you felt as though he had struck you. 

A rage bubbled within you. 

“ How dare you? Do you truly think so little of me? I would have given up the world for you. You, however, would never have done the same,” you turned to walk away again and he swiftly maneuvered his way in front of you, blocking your path. You felt tears prickle at your eyes, but you forced yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“ I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. It is only that you have been so cold toward me lately, and I do not understand why. At tonight’s ball, all I wanted was to have you in my arms once more and instead, I had to stand there like a fool watching you dance with the prince. I left for the gardens when the incessant rumors of a marriage between you two were all anyone could talk about,” his eyes searched yours for an answer, resentfulness lacing his every word. 

You looked down, not being able to meet his eyes, “ I do not have to justify myself to you. And those rumors. . .are not rumors. I believe the prince should propose any day now.” By the end of your sentence, you feigned what little confidence you had left and fixed your posture, ready to face James with a steady gaze. However, as soon as you met his eyes you found yourself taking a step back. 

James looked at you like he had taken a bullet to the heart.

“ And what of us? My dearest, I do not understand what I have done wrong. Tell me, so that I may fix it. I cannot bear to lose you,” his hand reached for yours to pull you in closer. You side stepped his advances, his hand recoiling at your relentless rejection. 

You took in a deep breath, a sigh escaping your lips,“ You already have. The moment you decided to entertain other women while claiming your heart was mine. I am the fool for believing your grace was honest about courting me.” Irritation crept its way back into your heart at the memory. 

This caught his attention as he stared at you with a puzzled expression,“ Is that what this is about? Y/n, you must know that was merely for diplomacies—for business. ”

You bit the inside of your lip to refrain from insulting the man in front of you. “ Then that is what I was then, merely a means to a business transaction between you and my father. Did you think I would not find out? My father would have never invested in that mine of yours if it were not for him believing we were courting. It was no coincidence that as soon as the papers were signed you were seen with Lady Natasha alone in your home,” you paused for a moment, realizing you had raised your voice at James, causing you to take a deep breath before continuing, “ You should be grateful my father is not holding you to any responsibilities since he is now focused on assuring I become royalty.” 

James’ fists were clenched at his sides,“ How could you doubt my honor? How could you ever doubt that my heart is anyone's but yours? My business with Lady Natasha is nothing but a misunderstanding. I swear on my honor.” 

You scoffed, “ Your honor means nothing to me. Your reputation of being the most prolific Rake in town precedes you. I should have believed everyone when they warned me.” His lips formed a tight line, an impatience overtaking him, “ You should know by now my darling, I do not care what others whisper in the shadows. You are all I care about, and if that is what you truly think of me then—you wound me.” 

You shook your head, ready to retaliate once more with your words when he swiftly made his way to you and held you by your shoulders. “ I love you. I am certain what fuels this frustration and hatred toward me is the love you feel for me,” his voice was gentle, his features softening. His eyes held you in your place, as your body longed to be closer to him. A mere touch and a part of you was already screaming at you to forgive him. 

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at each other’s eyes not saying a word. You had no strength to pull away from his grasp, “ Your heart will move on. It will find love in another,” your response was reduced to a whisper by the end. You weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself with your words. 

He shook his head, “ My dearest, the heart here has no say. I cannot say I love you with all my heart for it will one day stop beating. I love you with my entire soul, for my love for you will live on with it for all eternity. I am forever bound to you.” James’ declaration tugged at your heartstrings. 

“James. . .” his name dropped from your lips in a pleading whisper. Whether that was for him to stop or keep going—you weren’t sure anymore. You were left speechless. Any protests or rebuttals that were initially in your mind were gone with one declaration. He pulled you in closer—if that were possible—and embraced you, planting a passionate kiss on your lips. You returned it with as much intensity.  

You melted into each other, the reciprocated love burning into you. This one kiss ignited within you all of the feelings you were trying so desperately to extinguish. James tasted of wine and smelled of sandalwood, a combination you found strangely addicting. 

One of James’ hands slipped down your back, your own gravitating to the nape of his neck. He pressed his body against yours, a small gasp escaped your lips allowing him to deepen the kiss. The continuous kisses he bestowed upon you grew needier by the minute. If his words weren’t getting through to you, he wanted to make sure his lips did. 

His mouth moved down to your neck, continuing to show his devotion to you. Your body betrayed you as it leaned to the side giving him easier access. You held in a breath at the sensation. It was evident no one could make you feel the way James does.

This was the opposite of what you had been striving for these last few weeks. Your father made it clear to you how important it was for the family for you to rise to the status of a princess. The prince had been kind and charming, but he was no match for James. You knew there was no argument to be had with your father since now that a prince was interested in you, there was no way in hell he was going to accept a Duke as his son in law. You didn't care and figured that in time he would forgive you once he realized how in love James and you were. You hoped he would see what your mother saw and accept this path to your happiness. 

That was before the incident.

  A month ago you took a carriage ride to James’ home accompanied by your Lady’s maid Kate. The purpose of this escapade was to confide in James over your father’s intentions. Unbeknownst to you, his true intentions would be brought to light instead. 

Your carriage was merely a block away when you spotted them. They were laughing as James’ footmen escorted both him and Lady Natasha inside. There was no one else in sight and no one else entering the home with them. This meant they were in there alone and unchaperoned. Only impatient lovers would resort to such means knowing a scandal could break out if they were caught.

You clutched at your chest, overwhelmed with the way it ached. You felt as though James had come up to you and ripped it out of your chest, exposing it to everyone to gawk and laugh at. To laugh at how stupid Lady Y/n had become in thinking the biggest Rake in town had truly, madly, and deeply fallen in love with her. 

Kate took you in her arms and ordered the coachmen to take the long way back home. You sat there, crying into her shoulder throughout the entire journey. You vowed that day to never fall for James’ charms ever again.  

The memories of that day hit you full force and knocked the air out of you. Your body caught up to your brain and with as much strength as you could muster you pushed James off of you. He looked shaken by your reaction, staggering back almost tripping over a cluster of purple hyacinths. 

With your anger at his betrayal still fueling you, you lifted your chin in the air and spoke your final words to him,“ You cannot water what has already withered and believe it will come back to life.” 

You didn’t bother to look at him this time, knowing too well the expression on his face was one that would make your resolve crumble in an instant. You quickly turned and ran out of the greenhouse and back into the garden. The rain was still coming down in a pour, soaking you from head to toe. Tears were streaming down your face and the ends of your ball gown were now covered in mud. In spite of that, you continued to run to the furthest part of the garden closest to the carriages and farthest from Lady Maximoff’s manor.

You were yearning to be home—to be in your mother’s arms and bask in her comfort. To have Kate prepare you the warmest cup of tea and sugary scones to indulge in. Anything to remove the taste of wine and the smell of sandalwood that was now deeply imbedded into your senses. This in hopes to forget the events of tonight ever happened. 

“ Miss Y/n, you are soaked to the brim, we must get you home. I shall fetch the Marchioness at once,” your coachman draped a blanket from the servant’s quarters over your shoulders and helped you into your carriage. You hugged it tightly against you as the coachman walked away to get your aunt, the Marchioness of Syracuse. You had completteley forgotten she was the one who accompanied you tonight. How were you going to explain your current state to her? 

“ Miss Y/n?”

That voice—you know that voice.  It belonged to the person you least wanted to see at this moment. A lady should never let a prince see her like this. 

“ Your Highness, I beg of you not to look in the carriage. I was caught in the rain and I am not proper,” the door of the carriage was wide open, the prince’s emerald green attire coming into view. You angled your body so that he could only see the bottom half of your ball gown, hiding your face from him. 

“ Your wish is my command, my lady,” he stood by the entry of the carriage facing froward, his side profile visible to you. Your shoulders relaxed, relieved he didn’t have to see you at your worst. His personal attendant was beside him, holding an umbrella above him to ensure his royal highness was not touched by the rain. 

“ I must thank you for bestowing upon me the pleasure of dancing with you tonight. I regret we did not get to spend more time together. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress,” he complimented you, bringing a smile to your face. “ You flatter me, your Highness—thank you. I will make sure to not get caught in the rain next time, so that our dances may continue.” You made light of your situation, bringing out a soft chuckle from him. 

“ No matter if there is rain. I would gladly charge right into the storm of it if it meant I could have you by my side,” he stated, a warmth overtaking your cheeks. Any flirtations coming from another man other than James were foreign to you and flustered you easily. James’ flirtations were inviting and expected, while others were far from it. They felt wrong to hear and to accept. In doing so, it was as if you were being disloyal to James. 

You would have to keep reminding yourself there is nothing more to be disloyal to. 

“ You’re too kind, your Highness. I am not sure it is worth catching an illness over this weather for a dance,” you responded, trying to keep your voice gentle and light. You didn’t want any negative emotions to take charge just yet. They could do so once you were in the privacy of your bedchambers. 

“ For me it is. You are worth it, Miss Y/n,” the prince had never confessed his love to you, but with this sentence, it was clear his feelings toward you were much stronger than you had previously believed. Many proposals were given on attraction alone—to have a proposal based on love was the rarest of blessings. 

You stilled in your seat, his words making your heart skip a beat. From the bottom of your heart it was clear to you, you were not in love with this man. Nonetheless, you thought, maybe in the future you would. Maybe if you tried hard enough your heart could move on even if your soul refused to. 

“ Oh! Prince Loki, your highness, what a pleasure to see you here with my niece. . .” your aunt arrived just in time, saving you from having to respond. Your mind wandered off, your aunt’s voice and the prince’s getting lost in the background as they spoke to one another. 

You draped the blanket over your head to cover the stream of tears that refused to stop flowing. If you pretended to be asleep than you could avoid all of your aunt’s pestering questions on where you had snuck off to while the prince was waiting for you. 

No, you did not love Prince Loki.

Yes, you were in love with James Barnes the Duke of Brooklyn.

However, for the sake of a love lost along with fulfilling your duty, you would have to learn how to love another. 

Rake:  A rake is a 19th-century term for a womanizer or a man who flaunts their exploits with women and avoids any real romantic attachments.

[my-lady-of-the-various-sorrows]

I didn't know I needed a Regency AU with Bucky Barnes, but I need and now I need more. This is fantastic!

It Started With A Smile Series Masterlist

[Bridgerton AU]

Warnings: strictly 18+, TRIGGER WARNING: threat of non-con/SA but Bucky comes to the rescue, reader has a physical altercation with someone but is not injured. Violence, homophobia (not from Bucky or reader), angst, it’s set in a different AU to the show so there aren’t direct spoilers for either season, historical inaccuracy, slight age gap is implied although exact ages are never mentioned (everyone is over 18), sexism

Main Masterlist | Taglist | Library

Duke!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: At the start of the new social season, Lady Whistledown predicts this will finally be the year solitary Duke James Barnes finds a wife. After a chance meeting at Lady Danbury’s ball, can you and the Duke overcome all obstacles thrown in your path by his scandalous past and your overbearing mother insistent against your match?

Last Updated: 19th September 2022

Part One (7.0k)

Part Two (10.6k)

Drabble (1.0k)

Part Three (coming soon)

[winterarmyy]

Against All Odds | Part I

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 8.1k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)

P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.

He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation. 

Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library.

They always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.

She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence. 

And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.

Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.

"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.

Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"

Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."

Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"

Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."

Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.

"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.

Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.

"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."

Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.

Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family. 

Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.

The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.

As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.

When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.

There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.

When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time. 

The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.

Could the rumors about him be wrong?

"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."

Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.

“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.

As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.

The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.

Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?

The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.

The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.

The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.

Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile. 

The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.

As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.

The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.

Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”

Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.

“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.

“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.” 

His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.

As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.

Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.

With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.

Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.

Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.

Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her. 

Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.

His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.

Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.

Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.

It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed. 

Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.

Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs. 

She admired his body as much as he did of hers.

But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.

A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart. 

Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.

But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.

“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.

Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.

So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.

Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.

It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core. 

When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.

“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?” 

She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.

Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.

Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied,  “Yes, please”.

Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.

“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.

The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again. 

The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure. 

His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue. 

“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything. 

Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.

Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.

And that is exactly what happened next.

The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.

He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”

Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.

Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.

Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.

Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.

“You’re doing so good, my dear.”

“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”

“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”

“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction. 

Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.

“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.

With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.

He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”

Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.

“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.

Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.

“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”

As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.

Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.

"My Dearest Y/N,

I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.

Yours always,

Bucky"

The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.

Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.

However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.

The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.

Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them. 

The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.

She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.

A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."

The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.

She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?

She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.

As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.

Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.

"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."

"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."

Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.

Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.

As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.

Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar. 

The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.

Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.

And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.

“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.

Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.

As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.

"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.

Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.

“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”

Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”

Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.

Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.

“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”

Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”

Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.

Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.

Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.

Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.

Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Mz. Bitch's Masterlist

Started: 2/24/24 Last updated: 2/8/25

Due to inline link limits, please click on the story name to start reading and follow the chapter links. Thanks little darlings! Love y'all!

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes *One shots Sex Pollen My Alpha Got Nothing On You +parts Movie Night Please Come Back Vibranium & Stainless Steel Shy Dream Girl A little help from my friend Angry baby? Throw It in the Dishwasher +parts The Boss +parts I.T. Time to Heal A Very Cutesy, Very Demure Halloween Regrets & Apologies Quite a Workout +parts Overheard Oh Sister Let's Go Down Little Sea Storm I may be a real bad boy...but baby I'm a real good man +parts Zhihn moya Flirty A Bumpy Ride +parts Fire! Lots of Love +parts Things Are Not As They Seem It's Been a Long, Long Time La Muerte Deja Vu Soldat Blood and...Balsam? Slow, Sexy Mornings Moody Bucky Made of Dreams One bed +parts *Series Breaking the Class Ceiling **Finished Bucky Barnes is a middle class clerk. He needs to marry well to take care of himself and his father. Y/N Y/L/N is the heir to a millionaire fortune, who is blunt, no-nonsense, flirtatious, and looking for a partner. Everyone is vying for her hand. Can Bucky ever win? Pretty Pointy Smile **Finished Bucky was born different, and has been judged for it ever since.  His father has had enough and sells him to the circus.  The acceptance and love of his newfound family, and the beautifully fierce ringmaster, help him realize he’s not the monster everyone else made him out to be. Sugar Mama **Finished Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by.  The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight.  Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love.  She has a proposition for him. Marriage of Convenience **Finished Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her.  But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband.  Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects?  Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help… The Temptation **Finished Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants.  So why does this fallen angel tempt him so?  You cannot serve two masters.  Will he choose God, or his heart? Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons **Finished Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of.  A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has.  Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Stranded **Finished Tossed overboard and lost at sea, Bucky washes up on an uninhabited island.  Injured, lost and scared, with little to no wilderness training, he fights to survive.  But is he really alone? The Fuck Up **Finished Bucky fucked up.  A few times.  Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Naughty Nanny **Finished Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought. Run, pretty girl, run **Finished Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray.  The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives.  Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with.  Will they make it before she goes into labor?  Or at all?

Pretty P.A. **Finished Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion model agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.  The Gorgon **Finished The village nearest the mountain by the sea has a generations-old tradition of offering sacrifices to the monster in the mountain to gain favor and keep its wrath away from the people.  Every person starting from the age of 15 has to take a turn in making the journey up the mountain to the mouth of the cave once a year to drop off the gifts…and it’s a journey that some never come back from.  Y/N took her turn when she was 15, and now the rotation has come back to her again.  If the gift isn’t given by the autumn solstice, there’s no telling what harm the creature will wreak onto the people.  With a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in her way, will she make it to save her and her people?  Can a monster have a heart? Dreamboat **Finished Y/N, her brother Steve, and his best friend Bucky all moved out West for a new start after Y/N was almost caught up and hurt in a rival gang fight.  Steve wasn’t in shape to fight in the war, but Bucky was drafted.  While out West, Y/N finds herself in trouble again from the local bar owner.  Steve is suddenly drafted for an experimental division of the army, but leaving Y/N alone isn’t an option.  Bucky comes home needing help, and Steve comes up with a crazy compromise.  Sweet Pumpkin **Finished Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself.  He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended.  Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Yes Mama **Finished Bucky Barnes has made quite the name for himself in the underground mob boss world.  But he’s not the boss.  Just the face of the Family. 

A Pirate's Life for Me **Finished Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew on the Armored Star are the most fearsome pirates in the known world.  They’ve given the British fleet a run for their money as they try to free the enslaved and take from the rich, but they could have never guessed how the British empire would retaliate against them.  When a new pirate ship appears and lays waste to all in its path, will Bucky and his crew be ready for the wrath of a woman scorned?

The Witch and The Doctor **Finished Bucky thought he could make a difference, getting a medical license and trying to change people’s minds.  But the 1600s New World is a harsh place with cruel people.  After being accused of witchcraft he makes a run for it, facing the dangers of the woods and the rumored witch that lives within them.

Sugar & Spicy Books **Finished Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

The Professor's Aid **Finished Bucky has one last year left of college.  He has tutoring/teacher’s aid credits he needs to fill to graduate, no matter the subject.  He applies to be the Women’s Studies professor’s TA, thinking maybe he can skate by easily, until he meets the no-nonsense, large and in charge, pretty as sin professor who is hotter than expected.

Marriage Problems **Finished They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Peter Parker *One shots Emotional *Short Series Tasty **Finished Peter just wanted to have one night of fun.  Then that night of fun almost killed him.  Now it won’t stop haunting him.  And he’s loving it. 

*Series The Young Duke **Finished Queen Y/N is running out of time.  At 35 years old she has to marry and make an heir to the throne, but all suitors so far have been unsatisfactory in one way or another.  Duke Peter Parker is the young Duke of Queensland, and his family is on the brink of ruin due to his parents’ failures and famines throughout the years.  He needs to find an advantageous marriage to save his family’s estate, so when an invitation from the Crown comes, he jumps at the opportunity.  Will it be a match?

Steve Rogers *Oneshot Sex Pollen An Evening Stroll

*Series My Queen **Finished Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother.  He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Fortuna Major **Finished Steve Rogers came home from World War II shell shocked and overwhelmed by the place he once called home.  After losing his mother he and his injured best friend Bucky decide to find a quieter, slower way of life to heal from the war.  They head out west until they hit Fortuna, California, and get jobs in the lumber industry.  Steve comes across a local lodging for miners and lumber workers, and falls head over heels for the female owner who takes no man’s shit. 

Stucky *Oneshot Three's Company

*Series Emerald Hallow **Finished Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good. And he's not the only one who smells it...

Actors

Sebastian Stan *Series A Patient Man **Finished Sebastian swore to never fall for another co-star again. Until Y/N drops into his life.

[uselesssomebody]

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 (18+)

the do's (rules & information):

readers must be over 18 reading these drabbles

all works will be under or roughly a thousand words

thirty-one days of smut drabbles

ten days are open to requests for the kinks

ten days will include dark content (will be properly tagged)

five will include a dominant reader

the don'ts (what i am not interested in writing):

i only write fem!readers, with all involved characters being over 18

the kinks i'd appreciate you don't request are anything to do with anal penetration, bodily fluids (besides blood and cum), and certain dom/sub dynamics like age play or ddlg

otherwise, ask away, and i'll see if i'm comfortable writing your request!

the kinks and the characters

october 1: shower sex w/ frankie morales

october 2: ball worship (dom!reader) w/ eddie munson

october 3: sex pollen (dark) w/ din djarin

october 4: consensual non-consent (dark) w/ miguel o'hara

october 5: threesome (ffm) w/ marc spector & layla el-faouly

october 6: requested kink & character

october 7: breeding kink (dark) w/ duke leto

october 8: somnophilia (dark) w/ eddie munson

october 9: mutual masturbation (dom!reader) w/ steven grant

october 10: threesome (mmf) + double penetration (in one hole) w/ frankie morales and santiago garcia

october 11: titfucking w/ javier peña

october 12: requested kink & character

october 13: exhibitionism w/ poe dameron

october 14: dacryphilia (dark) w/ joel miller

october 15: temperature play (dom!reader) w/ din djarin

october 16: phone sex w/ jack daniels

october 17: corruption kink (dark) w/ dio morrissey

october 18: requested kink & character

october 19: edging (dark!dom!reader) w/ basil stitt

october 20: recording/blackmail (dark) w/ jonathan levy

october 21: mask + glove kink w/ jake lockley

october 22: hate + mirror sex w/ javier peña

october 23: cockwarming (dom!reader) w/ steven grant

october 24: requested kink & character

october 25: overstimulation w/ jake lockley

october 26: size difference w/ miguel o'hara

october 27: knife kink (dark) w/ bucky barnes

october 28: free use (dark) w/ joel miller

october 29: sex toys w/ natasha romanoff

october 30: requested kink & character

october 31: period sex/blood kink w/ santiago garcia

the characters (you guys can request)

from stranger things, i write for eddie munson, robin buckley, billy hargrove or steve harrington

from marvel, i write for bucky barnes, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, jake lockley, marc spector, steven grant, layla el-faouly and miguel o'hara

from star wars, i write for poe dameron, or din djarin (the mandalorian)

from triple frontier, i write for frankie morales and santiago garcia

miscellaneous oscar isaac characters i write for include basil stitt, jonathan levy, duke leto, kane and orestes (agora)

miscellaneous pedro pascal characters i write for include joel miller, javier peña, jack daniels (agent whiskey), dio morrissey

if you want to request another character, don't hesitate! i will see what i can do.

notes

guys i know i haven't written in like 1200 months but i wanna get back into the mood with the short smutty stuff

besides, i've never done kinktober and every other one i've seen bangs so hard i simply couldn't resist

side note - dark fics will be only available on my adjacent dark blog: @darkuselesssomebody, but will be linked on this masterlist. if you wanna read the dark drabbles and future dark work, give it a follow!

i am also willing to take non-kinky & halloween themed requests, so if you have any, let me know!

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

[starkandthewaynes]

I don't know what to write

[tinglingfuckingsensation]

Rosie's Big Send-Off

Hello @blood-suits-and-tears, merry hbowar christmas to you! I was inspired by your reunion prompt, your fanart of the boys and your love for Rosie, Kenny and Brady especially. Rosie's such a great character, and his love for music inspired me to make a playlist (some background information for the songs I chose is in the tags). And because he also was an amazing person in real life, and I'm so impressed that he actually took part in the Nuremberg trials, I wrote a little fic tied with the playlist, about the guys organizing a sendoff party for him. I hope you enjoy it✨The fic itself is under the cut!

Rosie

The letter comes late October. Rosie's been waiting for it, feeling like he's been sitting on hot coals. He rips the thick envelope open in the stairway, unable to wait until he's back upstairs in his small apartment.

There's a whole slew of documents, forms and pamphlets, but the most important information is right on the first page. On the 5th of January 1946, he's supposed to be back on German soil, to assist in the upcoming Nuremberg trials.

There's a ticket for the ship taking him to Europe, departure date the 15th of December. He'll miss all of the end of year festivities then, but he'd expected as much. Rosh Hashanah had consequently been filled with as many gatherings and family dinners as possible, his mother set on making the most of the time he spent at home.

It had been good to see everyone again, but he could admit he was glad it was over and he could return to the privacy of his Brooklyn apartment. Return to his work. There was so much to be done, and be done well, and Rosie looked forward to the chance to prove himself.

Rosie hums a tune as he takes the rickety stairs up to his apartment on the top floor, two steps at a time. He's been working towards this for months, has been preparing extensive reviews and depositions along with the other assistants to the prosecutor. He was ready. He feels the same swoop in his stomach as he did getting into a B-17, thrumming with adrenaline and ready to do what was asked of him.

With a hum and a twirl he allows himself because nobody's watching, he moves to his record player. He pulls out the Artie Shaw recording Pappy and the other guys from his crew had gotten him for his birthday back in June.

The first person he calls is his mother. She had been both anxious and proud when he had told her about his plans, and she had doted on him even more than usual while he was visiting. He had caught her, more than once, staring at him with shining eyes, and when he'd finally left, once Yom Kippur had passed, she had hugged him so tight his ribs had creaked.

She cries on the phone, as expected, then hands him over to his father, and then his sister, and it takes an hour until he can hang up the phone.

He calls Harry next. They've been keeping in touch, at least a phone call every week, and Rosie's been down to visit to meet Jean and their newborn son. Harry's as excited as Rosie thought he'd be, starts talking a mile a minute.

"Rosie, that's great! I knew they'd ask you to go, they know there's no one better to get these sons of bitches. It's a shame you're missing the holidays though!" He pauses for a moment, but before Rosie can say anything, he continues.

"We should get together before you leave, who knows how long you'll be gone. Maybe ask some of the other guys too, while we're at it, what do you think?"

"That sounds fantastic, Harry, but I'm not sure I have the time to set that up before I go."

"Oh, no, leave it to me, I think I already have an idea. You just tell me a date that works for you, and I'll take care of the rest."

Rosie laughs, and agrees. It would be good to see some of the other guys from the 100th again. They've all been keeping in touch through letters and the telephone, but apart from Harry, Rosie's only seen John Brady again, who lives in upstate New York.

Rosie dials Kenny's number next, hopes he's fast enough before Harry catches him. While he's getting put through, he swaps out the record for Duke Ellington and flops down into his armchair for his chat with Kenny.

Kenny's slow Arkansas drawl is as pronounced as it ever was over the phone, and fondness wells up inside Rosie at the honest joy in Kenny's voice when he tells him the news.

"No way! I can't believe you're going back so soon. And by ship, too. You don't think they'd let you fly a plane over there? Would be a lot faster than the ship, I'll tell you that."

"At least it's a cruise line and not one of the crew ships." Rosie laughs. Kenny had told him and the other pilots all about the cramped quarters on the ships bringing the ground crews and other personnel to England.

"Yeah, pays off to be a fancy lawyer and all I guess" Kenny teases, and Rosie can't contain his smile as he rebuffs it with a mild "hey now".

They talk for the better part of an hour, until Ken gets called for lunch by his mother.

"Harry's gonna call you later, I think." Rosie says before they hang up. Ella Fitzgerald has gone quiet on his record player, and he feels his stomach grumble. On a whim, he decides to go out for lunch. It's too fine a day to spend it inside, so he slips on his coat and makes his way back out the door.

For late October, it's unusually warm, and he makes his way through the park to get to his favorite lunch spot, a small Italian restaurant just off the main street. He passes a group of buskers playing at the exit of the park, and he decides to stay a while, finds a bench to sit and listen for a spell.

He leans his head back and looks up at the blue sky as he listens to the music drift by. The band has a saxophone player, and Rosie's reminded of John Brady again.

It's a friendship Rosie hadn't expected. He had not gotten to know Brady very well back in England before he went down over Germany. It had been Harry who had told Rosie that Brady was going to see shows in New York City from time to time. Harry had told him, at length, what a talented saxophone player Brady was, and how surely he and Rosie would get along like a house on fire considering their shared interest in music.

"You know I won't be able to make it to Minton's for a while yet, so I know you're in need of a jazz buddy. Go meet him for one of the shows he goes to, I'll call to give him a heads up."

The venue had been small, when Rosie finally went, but the music was fantastic. John Brady had kept up a running commentary on each musician, music instrument and patron, and Rosie had to stifle his laughter in his hand more than once at Brady's astute observations.

By the end, after the fifth encore, the concert had turned into an impromptu jam session, the musicians riffing off of each other and pushing each further and further. Rosie and Brady had both danced and laughed more than they had for ages before.

The next time Brady was in town, he called Rosie up beforehand to tell him to come along, and it became a habit after that. They often had drinks together until late into the night, relishing the opportunity to talk to someone who understood, without many words, what they had seen and what they brought back.

The buskers take a break, and Rosie's pulled back into the present. His stomach growls, so he rummages for some quarters in his pockets to drop them into the hat the singer is walking around with, and he thanks him with a smile and a nod.

As he walks away towards the restaurant, the saxophonist picks up another tune, and Rosie has to pull himself together to not break out into a little dance. Life is good today.

Kenny

Being back home on the farm still feels surreal sometimes. Kenny still wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, woken by the unshakeable feeling that lives would be lost if he didn't get up right now, get to work on the planes, get them ready for the day's mission.

He doesn't always manage to go back to sleep, too often caught up in the memories of waiting, waiting for crews and planes that would maybe never return.

It's a good thing there's always work to be done on the farm - chicken to feed, fences to mend or machines to repair, and the work helps to return back to the present, focus on his hands instead of getting lost inside his own head.

It also helps that he's been staying in touch with the guys, at least a phone call a week. He hears from Bucky, Harry and Rosie the most, but he has a letter from Crank waiting for his answer and a postcard from Jack, sunburnt at the Grand Canyon, hanging on the fridge.

Rosie's sent him some music recommendations too, and although Kenny's not much for Jazz usually, he can admit that the slow tones of Baby Face Willette's music can be soothing when he's too wound up.

His mother fusses over him like she always has, and he knows his father checks in on him each night after he goes to bed, knows he sometimes lingers at the door if he thinks Kenny's sleeping. It's good to be back home, he thinks, but he still misses the guys.

He sometimes marvels at how despite all the bad things that happened, the war has left him with friends he would never have met otherwise.

And to think, he marvels as he hangs up the phone after Rosie's call, he even knows one of the lawyers who'll bring Germany's highest remaining Generals to justice.

It doesn't take an hour until the phone rings again. It's Harry, of course.

"You heard?" He says as a greeting, and Kenny confirms with a hum, unable to suppress a grin. They both know Harry already has a whole plan formed, and Kenny considers getting a pen and a piece of paper to take notes when Harry launches into telling him what he's thinking of.

The plan doesn't sound half bad, Kenny has to admit. A reunion party for the 100th in the beginning of December, combined with a send-off for Rosie. Only, and Kenny feels almost bad to bring it up, they don't have a venue, and the whole thing's just over a month away.

"You have a point of course, but you're in luck. I just happen to know a highly decorated Air Corps Major who loves a good party and knows some people in high places. And more importantly, I know a charming young aircraft mechanic who happens to be his favorite."

It takes a moment to sink in, and then Kenny groans.

"That's your plan? You're making me call John Egan and hope he'll get us a place to set up the reunion? You sure your fatherly hormones haven't cooked your brain?"

"It's worth a try, at least."

"And you want me to call him?"

"Come on now, I know you two talk all the time. You know more air force gossip than half of the intelligence officers."

"Yeah, but that's just because Bucky's responsible for most of it", Kenny snorts.

"So you'll talk to him? I'll call Brady in the meantime, ask if he'll sort out the music for us."

"And all the other guys, make sure they'll come, right?"

"You bet. Tell Bucky to call Buck though, I'm sure they're on the phone with each other every day anyway. And call your boys too, give them the heads up."

John Brady

"Johnny, it's for you! Harry again", Johnny's mother calls from downstairs. Johnny lowers the saxophone from where he had just lifted it from his case, and makes his way downstairs.

His mother's hair is slowly turning gray, he notices. Mrs. Brady has always been a force of nature, her brown hair always bound back tightly, but the war had left unmistakable traces on her. She squeezes his shoulder when she hands over the phone and retreats to the kitchen, her steps slow and careful.

"Harry, what a surprise. I was expecting your call next week at the earliest. You miss me?"

"You know I do, Captain." Harry says warmly, and Johnny's lips curve into a little smile. Harry's not been his navigator for years now, in fact outranks him now, but he figures some habits were hard to kick.

"I've got a mission for you, Johnny, if you're willing. Listen, I'm not sure if Rosie told you already, but…"

"It's a little short notice, Harry, but I'll see what I can do", Johnny promises once Harry's explained everything. "I'll call Waterbury, see if we can get the Century Bombers together. I've missed playing with them, and I hear they made quite the name for themselves."

"I knew I could count on you. Listen, Lewis says to make sure you play some Artie Shaw, at least the Chant. I think it has some kind of special meaning to their crew. You think you could make that work?"

"I'll give it a try, at least." Johnny says.

After the call finishes, he returns to his saxophone. Before the war, music had been his whole life, and he'd always dreamed of becoming a bigshot musician one day, play in a big band and eventually as a solo artist. Now, he can't fathom the thought of travelling across the country, sleeping in a new bed each night, or in cramped tour buses.

No, he's glad to be home, and although he's not quite sure what he'll do with his life quite yet, he knows these dreams would remain firmly in the past. It'll be good to get together with the guys again, and play together, too.

He picks up the saxophone. Back in Stalag Luft, there had been some old instruments, and if he's being honest, it's probably what got him through. He remembers playing for the guys, his fingers frozen stiff, to take their minds off the letters that hadn't arrived for weeks, the news from outside that were so hard to get by, and the hunger that was a constant companion.

The movement of his fingers is familiar as they wander across the brass keys, and his mind clears as he focuses on his breathing. It's a song he's played a hundred times, back when he was playing in one of Bunny Berigan's bands from time to time. He had transcribed it from memory, back in the camp, to teach it to the others, had worked out the entire arrangement so it made sense with the instruments available to them.

There had been little else to do, for months sometimes, and he used to fill the long hours with trying to arrange more songs to play, let the other guys in his hut suggest songs. He pretended not to notice the way Bucky's eyes shone when he first played Blue Skies.

Hambone had requested Idaho from him, and they had howled with laughter at his attempts to sing the melody so Johnny could try and figure it out on the saxophone, and for an entire evening, they had not managed one decent note between them. They had figured it out finally, and Johnny transitions smoothly into the song and remembers Hambone told him it reminded him of home.

Rosie

The first thing Rosie hears is when he steps into the hotel lobby are the notes of Duke Ellington's G.I. Jive playing. He raises an eyebrow at Harry and Kenny, who came to pick him up at his apartment, and they answer with matching grins of excitement.

"I can't believe you pulled this off" Rosie says as he looks around the lobby. It's not the Ritz, but it's not shabby either, the understated but elegant decor speaking of a clientele used to luxury.

Before he can continue, John Egan steps into the Lobby. "There he is" he bellows, "man of the hour!", and he claps Rosie on the back.

"It's Bucky who got the location for us" Kenny says. "But he won't tell me how he did it."

Bucky laughs uproariously.

"Just because you'll tattle to Buck, and then I'll never hear the end of it."

"We won't tell him a thing, cross my heart" Kenny says and looks pleadingly at Bucky, who pretends for a moment longer and then folds with a put-upon sigh.

"Oh well, if you insist…" he leans closer, conspiratorially.

"So, there's this Colonel at my base, we go out for drinks sometimes. Family's loaded, owns a few hotels. Great leader, mediocre pilot but wouldn't admit to it. I dared him to buzz the tower on our next maneuver, see who could get closer. Wanted to do that one for ages. He didn't even get close."

"You didn't get into trouble?"

"We were the two highest ranking officers at the maneuver, Kenny. Anyway, I told the guys it's a learning opportunity. I'm sure they're still trying to figure out what they learned, but hey, it got us this place."

"And why can't we tell Buck? He would have done the same."

"Can't tell him I stole his move, can I?" Bucky laughs and they roll their eyes at him.

"Ready, fellas?" Bucky asks then, and before Rosie can ask, Kenny and Harry take him by the elbows.

"Eyes closed, Rosie, it's a surprise."

Rosie dutifully closes his eyes and lets himself be led into the hotel's ballroom. As they step through the door, Glenn Miller's in the mood starts playing, and Rosie can feel a smile breaking out on his face.

"Surprise!"

When Rosie opens his eyes, he can't help breaking out into a laugh. The whole room is decorated like the bar back at base in Thorpe Abbots, decals of planes on each wall, and a large one on the wall behind where the band is playing.

There's a banner hung a little lopsidedly, reading "Stick it to them" in large letters. Most importantly, however, everyone, including the women present, are wearing fake mustaches. When Rosie turns to the side, he sees Harry, Kenny and Bucky have put on some, too.

He doubles over, has to steady himself on his own knees so he won't fall over laughing, and he can hear the others join him.

"Welcome to your big send-off, Rosie" Harry finally says once they've quieted down a little. "We're all rooting for you."

"Yeah, get these sons-of-bitches, Rosie!", someone calls out, and then Pappy comes up to wrap him in a hug. It breaks the spell, and the guys all rush in, laughing and shouting over each other, while the band keeps playing.

The End

Tracklist: The Chant - Artie Shaw I Let a Song Go Out Of My Heart - Duke Ellington Sometimes I'm Happy - Al Casey Sextet Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman At Last - Baby Face Willette I Can't Get Started - Bunny Berigan Blue Skies - Ella Fitzgerald Idaho - Alvino Ray G.I. Jive - Duke Ellington In the Mood - Glenn Miller

[cultofsilly]

avengers dune au.. save me avengers dune au… ignore how ASS the art is ok… it was for sillies…..

heh little things about them ❤️❤️

~ Steve works for Duke Leto (Sorta like a bodyguard for Paul) escapes with him and lady Jessica

-Bucky was captured in part by house harkonnen (H & H…🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫)

-Nat is a Bene Gesserit

-Fury is a Menant

-Sam is sorta like gurney? yeah

-other avengers also work for house atreides ❤️ guys the shield logo is literally the same as the crest❤️

- my au is sorta set around the same time as winter soldier

I’m rereading dune again so I’ll ponder about it more probably.. I dunno what I should call Bucky cause he cannot be winter soldier no more💔💔 maybe something with the salusa secundus? I am NOT sure

- Sam & Nat joined the smugglers with gurney (they reunite yay)

-Hawat dies, fury does not

- Clint is also there ❤️ (comics version I kinda hate mcu Clint .. they took his charm AWAY)

- probably more to come I dunno.. I cannot stop thinking about them grrr

[worshipper-of-all-things-sexy]

Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie Funny Interviews Part 4

[elixirfromthestars]

A Carriage of Convenience 🤩💛

Hi!! ❤️ Thank you for asking!!

So this one is actually a prequel to My Dearest. Many asked for a sequel to it, but I really got inspired to write how Duke Bucky came into the reader’s life 🥺💖 Maybe redeem Bucky a little bit after the events of My Dearest 😂❤️

Viscount Stark hosts a lavish ball and the reader is there with her family. However, after receiving the news her father wants to marry her off, she decides to be a little rebellious that night. This leads her to meet Duke James 👀💞 (the carriage = forced proximity is all I’ll say 🤭💗)

This is still in the early stages of writing so this little snippet might get rewritten lol (most likely it will 💀):

“ A fine gathering Viscount Stark held, although I would say the music—” James started light conversation, but you interrupted him with a snip,” Excuse me, your grace.”

He stopped you with a hand to your wrist. The touch was light as a feather. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear,” While avoiding me may be what you wish to do, I do believe you also wish to avoid your father. Especially when the scent of alcohol lingers on your person,” he whispers, low and smug. You swallow hard, and look up at him. He’s looking behind you in the direction you were headed.

wip game 🖋️✨

[theaawalker]

Steps to Write a Genuine Platonic Relationship

1. Establish the Foundation

Define Their Connection: Decide what brings these characters together—shared history, common interests, or a deep emotional understanding.

Set Boundaries: Clarify from the start that their relationship is non-romantic, avoiding any lingering tension that could be misread as attraction.

Give Them Complementary Strengths: Show how they support and challenge each other without romantic implications, emphasizing mutual respect.

2. Shape Their Role in the Story

Decide Their Impact: Determine how their bond influences the plot—do they solve problems together, serve as each other’s moral compass, or push each other toward growth?

Avoid Romantic Clichés: Refrain from using traditional romantic tropes like longing glances, accidental physical tension, or excessive jealousy.

Show Their Value Beyond Love: Let their relationship be crucial to the story in a way that isn’t reliant on romance or tension.

3. Build Their Dynamic

Use Natural Banter: Let them have inside jokes, tease each other, or share moments of camaraderie without any romantic undertones.

Create Moments of Deep Understanding: Show how they confide in one another in ways they wouldn’t with others, reinforcing their trust and emotional closeness.

Let Them Have Other Romantic Interests: This solidifies that their bond isn’t about unspoken attraction, making it clear that romance isn’t lurking in the background.

4. Define Their Chemistry

Make Their Interactions Unique: Ensure they have a specific energy that distinguishes their bond from romantic connections in the story.

Emphasize Loyalty Over Possessiveness: They can care deeply about each other without feelings of possessiveness or unresolved tension.

Show Physical Comfort Without Romance: Casual, platonic touch like a ruffling of hair, a side hug, or a reassuring pat on the back can reinforce their connection without romantic connotations.

5. Demonstrate Their Impact on Each Other

Let Them Grow Together: Show how they influence each other’s decisions, ambitions, or emotional development without needing romance as a motivator.

Create High-Stakes Moments: Put them in situations where they rely on each other, proving their bond is just as deep as any romantic relationship.

Allow Conflicts Without Romantic Resolution: If they fight, let their reconciliation stem from their friendship and values rather than an underlying romantic interest.

6. Develop a Satisfying Arc

Decide Their Long-Term Dynamic: Whether they remain lifelong friends, drift apart naturally, or take different paths, ensure their bond leaves a lasting impact.

Showcase Their Relationship’s Meaning: Highlight how their connection was vital to their growth, reinforcing the importance of strong, platonic love.

Avoid Unnecessary Romantic Subtext: Let them stand as proof that deep, meaningful relationships don’t need romance to be powerful.

Examples of Strong Platonic Relationships

1. Film/TV Examples

Frodo & Sam (The Lord of the Rings): A loyal, emotional bond built on trust and shared hardship.

Robin & Steve (Stranger Things): A brother-sister-like friendship that develops beyond a possible hetero-romance.

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes (Captain America): Sibling-like love based on support, teasing, and mutual admiration.

2. Literature Examples

Duke the Guarder & Dawn Demiss (The Guardians of Camoria series): A deep friendship based on emotional intellect, trust, and shared insecurities.

Jo March & Laurie (Little Women, after rejection): A lifelong friendship that remains strong despite romantic expectations.

Harry Potter & Hermione Granger (Harry Potter series): A close friendship built on trust, emotional support, and respect without romantic tension.

Follow || Like || Comment || Repost || My Novel ⇚⇚⇚

thank you @celestialgarden23 for the request :)

[winterarmyy]

Against All Odds | Part II

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.4k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.

A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.

“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.

“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”

Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears. 

Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry. 

He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.

It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive. 

Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace.  “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.

She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.

Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch. 

Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination. 

It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings. 

In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound. 

She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.

Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights. 

Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.

She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.

Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.

Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.

Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.

Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.

A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband. 

Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region. 

The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.

She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.

Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.

And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.

Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.

Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.” 

Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.

Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.

Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone. 

Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”

There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.

As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.

Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.

It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position. 

She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues. 

Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”

She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.

Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.

She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.

Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.

Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.

Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.

As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.

Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.

Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger. 

Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out. 

He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face. 

Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.

The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons. 

Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze. 

Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.

Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.

The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.

His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.

As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.

The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.

His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.

Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.

There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.

As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.

“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.

As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her

His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.

His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade. 

Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.

But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.

Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them. 

Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.

And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past. 

As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.

Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him. 

Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.

As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap. 

While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.

Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.

In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother. 

The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”

Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”

Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination. 

Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute. 

The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Y/N's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."

It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict. 

Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest. 

The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N. 

As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life. 

“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.

Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives. 

After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced. 

Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price. 

Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N. 

Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.

Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.

He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.

That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.

Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.

Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.” 

Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”

Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.

[rosepetalslibrary]

Caught up till Chapter 3. AMAZING SO FAR. Can not wait for the next update 💚💚

i could have chosen you (and yes, i would) - Masterlist

Summary: To form an alliance with another Kingdom, your father arranges a marriage between you and James, the duke of Barnes and best friend of King Steve I of a neighbouring kingdom, and you struggle to make a relationship out of your arranged union. Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, arranged marriage, medieval AU, fluff, eventual smut.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 on Patreon (5th of April on Tumblr) Chapter 3 on Patreon (12th of April on Tumblr) Chapter 4 on Patreon (19th of April on Tumblr) Chapter 5 on Patreon (26th of April on Tumblr) Chapter 6 on Patreon (3rd of May on Tumblr) Chapter 7 on Patreon (10th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 8 on Patreon (17th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 9 on Patreon (24th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 10 on Patreon (31st of May on Tumblr) Chapter 11 on Patreon (7th of June on Tumblr)

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"i could have chosen you (and yes, i would)" was posted on my Patreon in October 2022 and is fully posted on my page. To read it before anyone else, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and it helps me a lot during these hard times.

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Tag list is open!

[hemlock-dreams]

What's Spidys relationship like with the other NY bound heros?

Got a bunch of other hero asks so it's time for Ye Olde Lore Dump!

Johnny and H!Spiderman have never gotten along- in either universe.

They don't even really have any real beef with each other, they're just two dudes who grate on each other's nerves for no particular reason- like two guys at a frat party who are just waiting for an excuse to duke it out.

There's just something about Johnny's playboy easy-come-and-go vibe that makes Spidey want to plant a fist in his face. And Johnny thinks Spiderman is a fucking buzzkill.

Black Widow and Spiderman have a good working relationship. He once helped her out of a tight spot in New York and he was fast, smart and discreet about it- so when she's got some ops she needs a second pair of hands for (under the table), she calls him.

Spiderman admires Nat's competence and single-minded focus in getting things done- they all appeal to the hunter in him. (And he's got a massive crush on her.)

They usually do one or two jobs every few months, and meet up for drinks at one of her safehouses. She's also knows his secret identity, because she's just that scary.

Logan and Peter are BFFs. For real. Logan was in town to help with some shit that ended up involving Deadpool and found himself at St. Margaret's.

He and Peter struck up a friendship that ends up with them going camping every couple of months for a week or so.

Logan likes Peter's no-bullshit sincerity and can tell he's had some shit(TM) go down in his life. Peter's easy to talk to and is good at reading the room. And Peter feels like Logan fills in that space Marko left as a friend/mentor/gruff bro figure.

Logan actually picks up when Peter calls. (most others he leaves on read).

Fun fact, he has no idea Peter is Spiderman.

And another fun fact, it's not Johnny Deadpool is jealous of, it's Logan.

Peter has a very complicated relationship with the Avengers.

On one hand, he knows what they do and what they stand for- on the other hand, he's got a real problem with authority figures. He's been invited to the Avengers multiple times, in both realities.

The answer is always blanket N.O. (And, depending on whether it's stark asking, accompanied by a giant middle finger). (Though he's reluctantly agreed to have an avenger's phone in case there are any massive threats they need help with).

As for the members:

Stark gets on his nerves like nothing else. He's not super easy to rile up, but Stark's playboy arrogance (real or not), way he talks down at people, the self-appointed authority, the entitlement, and, of course, the fucking hypocrisy- it makes Spidey go 0 to 'cashmeoutside' immediately.

He and the Captain sometimes get along, but mostly when the Captain isn't in one of his preachy, pontificating moments. They do work very well together in a combat capacity, but they don't have much to talk about.

Thor is fine, but completely outside of Spidey's sphere and also, difficult to work with given his powers.

Bruce and Spidey just don't have much to talk about, and once again, Hulk is way too loud and can't particularly coordinate when they have to team up.

In general, H!Spiderman gets along with the more 'loner' heroes like Murdock, Deadpool, Black Widow, Bucky, Logan, Clint and so on.

(Side note, imagine he said all these shots fired shit to the Avengers and they were like 'no? none of this happened?' because it's not the same reality and Spiderman has to go home and die from the cringe???) (no we'll let him be cool for this)

-----

Once again, thank you so much for the asks!! I really appreciate all the love this AU has gotten and I hope these answers satisfy!!!

[marvelobsessed134]

The milf nextdoor

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Milf!Reader

Warnings: smut, praise, stereotypical porno tropes, reader is a milf, reader has a daughter and ex husband, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving)

Summary: you need help with fixing your broken AC. Good thing your new neighbor is more than happy to help.

Bucky thought he was hallucinating when he saw you carrying boxes into your new house. Well, it was new to you the man who lived there before you was always so fucking grumpy all the time so you moving in was a very good change. And god was he thankful to find out that you were divorced.

Okay…so maybe he has been a bit of a perv and watched you through your window as you get dressed. The brunette noticed how you wore sexy lingerie underneath your clothes and a slight streak of jealousy went right through him. Were you wearing those for someone else or for yourself?

He’d watch as you wore tight shirts and short shorts in the summer and sometimes when it was really hot you would get in a bikini top and run around in the sprinklers with your daughter. Obviously even though it was a very innocent moment, he always couldn’t help how you looked with the water spraying on you and the bikini top that barely contained your breasts.

And on one fateful Saturday where your ex husband picked up your daughter for a weekend the AC broke. You were so pissed since you planned to read and relax. But you can’t when the AC is fucking broken.

You knew your nextdoor neighbor was pretty handy so you decided to go over and ask if he could help. You found him pretty sexy too. Bucky got hard as soon as he answered the door and saw you in a tight cropped T-shirt and those daisy dukes. “Hey, sorry to bother you but my AC is broken do you think you could help me?” Your voice was soft and hopeful.

“Yeah of course! Let me get my tools.” He went into his garage and grabbed his tool bag before following you into your house. You showed him the broken appliance and he said he’d get it done in a span of 20 minutes.

You decided to go into the kitchen and wash some dishes as well as get a glass of cold water. 20 minutes goes by fast and Bucky finds his way into the kitchen to find you sitting on the counter drinking water.

“It’s fixed, should kick on in a few seconds.” The brunette says. You slip off from the counter and walk up to him, “Thank you so much! How much do you want me to pay you? I don’t want to have you do this labor for free.”

That gave your neighbor a brilliant idea a slight smirk appears on his face as his hand finds your ass and squeezes it, moving you closer to him, “I think there’s one way you can pay me.” His voice was low and gravelly, you felt his bulge against your front.

“Oh Bucky…” your voice comes out breathily.

“Unless…” he takes a strand of your hair, “there’s someone else?”

“No! No. There’s no one else…I’m single.”

“Then what do you say baby? You gonna pay me for all my hard work?” He caressed your chin.

“Yes Bucky.” You comply.

“Good girl.” You got down on your knees and unbuckle his jeans as he pulled off his shirt. Your eyes widened at the size of the bulge in his boxers and he smirks cockily while you pull them down and get shocked by the size of his cock. You take him in your hand and jerk him off a couple times making him groan before putting him in your mouth.

You looked up at him as you suck him off, taking him deep in your throat, clutching his bare thighs. He grabbed your hair and helped control your movements. “Holy fuck you look so good with my cock down your throat.”

You continued to take him in your mouth until he spilt his hot seed down your throat. You pulled off of him and opened your mouth to show that you swallowed it all.

“Jesus Christ you’re beautiful. Stand up for me baby.” You complied, standing up as he immediately took your mouth by his, kissing you passionately. You moaned into his mouth as he backed you up against the kitchen island. His hands groped your tits through your shirt before lifting it over your head revealing your black lace bra underneath.

“Fuck. You just wear this around the house?” He asked as he groped your bra clad breasts.

You shrugged, “I like to feel sexy even when I have a kid running around.”

“I’d like to give you another kid.” Bucky muttered before kissing your neck, biting and sucking making you moan. The brunette reached behind you and unclasped your bra, pulling it off and half hazardly tossed it across the room.

He tweaked and toyed with your nipples before pulling one into his mouth sucking and biting on the sensitive flesh. Your fingers carded through his hair as he did so, feeling completely at bliss. His strong arms wrapped around you and picked you up, setting you on the counter as his hands wandered south towards your Jean shorts. Your neighbor roughly unbuttoned them and you helped him take them off along with your matching panties. You noticed how he threw your panties on his pile of clothes.

But you didn’t take too long to dwell on it because he was licking you up and down at a medium, steady pace. You gripped his hair as he ate you out, flicking his tongue on your clit and collecting your arousal like it was his last meal.

“Ooh fuck, Bucky!” You moaned, eyes shut as you reveled in the pleasure. His strong, rough hands gripped your thighs as he pushed you further over the edge.

“You taste so good, baby.” The man muttered against your pussy as he continued his assault. Without warning you felt the waves crashing over you as you came with a scream of his name.

He smirked against you, lapping up all your juices before getting back up and kissing you again.

Then he put you back down and turned you over, bending you over the counter. And god, you loved being manhandled.

You felt the leaking tip of his cock being teased against your soaked entrance. “You want this cock?” He husked in your ear.

“Yes, god yes.” You breathed and gasped as soon as he entered you, stretching you out like you’ve never been stretched out before. He gripped your neck, pulling you back a little bit making your back arch as he pounded into you, hitting your g spot every time.

“You’re so fucking tight my god.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he felt the way you felt around his cock. He thrusted his hips at an almost inhuman pace, skin slapping against yours as he absolutely destroyed you. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Did your husband ever fuck you this good?”

“No! Fuck, no! You fuck me so good Bucky!” You cried out.

“I love when you scream my name holy shit.” You clenched around him and reached your high, screaming as you came. He came not long after you, pulling out and finishing on your lower back. He scooped up some of his cum with his finger and put to your mouth. In which you instinctively sucked it clean.

“Good girl. Such a hot fucking milf.” He said and you laughed.

This weekend is gonna be really fun.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I've wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we're all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however... I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The shanks of brown hair rests between your fingers as you angle the shears. The snips is precise and careful. You work diligently, wordlessly, as the duke stares at his reflection. He’s lost in thought as you are cautious of his mindless tilts and tweaks. 

“It is looking rather better since Kennick’s butchering,” he muses. “I feared I might sport a monk’s pate anon.” 

“Your grace,” your keep your focus set, not looking up as you snip away another length of hair. 

“Not much shorter than that. Winter will be here soon enough,” Lord Rogers girds. “What of the beard? Shall I keep it for warmth as well?” 

“Your grace,” the reply rises again, a different lilt to it which says, it is upon your prerogative. 

“Hm, many other lords I’ve seen as late sport the like. As our king does,” he continues on. “Is it very common of me to do the same?” 

You draw a lock away from his face and stretch it above his forehead. Your voice does not rise as you bite the tip of your tongue with great concentration. You think of Kennick and the lashes on his palms. He is only a young boy; how could he be asked to do such a delicate task? 

A knock rattles the door. The lord’s eyes flash in his reflection as you peek at the mirror. There isn’t alarm, only attention. He flicks his fingers. 

“Please, pip, see to it,” he commands. 

You lay down the shears and leave him. You go to the door and draw it open. It pushes from the other side and you stumble back behind it. You nearly fold completely as you recognise the bearing of the broad shoulders. It is hardly a surprise for the king to appear, only that you forgot yourself in the calm of the previous moment. 

You keep your knees bent and head down as King Bucky strides towards the duke at his looking glass. You gently close the door as the liege receives barely a glance from the man at ease on his cushioned chair. He huffs and tugs his ear. 

“Is that how you receive your king?” King Bucky taunts as Rogers swats away his hand. 

“I wouldn’t want to make a mess,” the duke retorts and gestures again, “pip, it is still uneven.” 

You set your chin and return to the vanity table. You pick up the shears and nod your head, “your highness.” 

The king does not answer and he leans on the other corner of the table. He crosses his arms, the deep blue leather of his jacket straining. The duke tufts his chin again, paying heed to the patch of silver there. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your recent bout of baldness,” the king mocks. “Your head is much too lumpy for it.” 

“Have you come only to jeer me?” Rogers asks dully. 

You measure another shank and trim carefully. Often, you’ve done similar for your fellow servants. Usually with duller blades or a razor to the scalp. The duke usually only requires a tray or a flagon of you. The request was unexpected but undeniable. 

“Forgive me for disturbing you and your barber. I’ve a fine man from Rivard who sees to my own. A gold coin would’ve brought him to your stead,” the king suggests. 

“A waste of good coin,” Rogers sniffs. “Looking at you, I’d never assume any barber saw to that nest.” 

The king takes affront and smooths his dark tresses, a subtle wave near the bottom of his strands as they frame his chin. “Eh, you speak treasonous words. To insult a king’s hair is next to blasphemy, duke.” 

“Shall I take the cattails in hand?” Rogers counters. 

King Bucky chortles, “if I didn’t fear you’d aim them at my hide, I’d agree to it.” 

You peek up at the noise of his laughter. You’ve not heard it often from the king, not that you are often in his presence. He seems of a bright disposition that day. Even so, you flinch as your eyes snag on his. You quickly put your mind to the shears.  

“Mm, and what has brought on your good mood?” 

“Why shouldn’t I be in fine spirits?” 

“I ask why you should,” Rogers, turns his head and you recoil. A dusting of hair falls from the towel around his shoulders. 

“I should ask why you seem rather the opposite,” the king mutters. 

“I am not... unhappy. Pensive,” Rogers admits. “You’ve heard from Stark.” 

“Aye, whoever doesn’t hear him when he opens his mouth?” 

“Hm, I would think a rasher response of you,” Rogers intones as he turns to the mirror again and you comb your fingers from his hairline to his crown to compare. The king shifts as you sense his observation of your reflection. 

“Isn’t it what he intends? What good is it to feed his pride? If he should like to put on this display, then he shall make himself a fool. I’ll be all the more pleased for it to be at my hand.” 

“You don’t think it is some ploy?” 

“Of course it is? A tournament of kings? For what purpose but to put to mind the matter of war? To suggest that should we not play nice, a horse and shield might be appropriate.” 

You shift around to the back of the duke’s head, the king leans in. His movement draws your gaze and you find him watching your hands. It makes them more prudent. 

“I would not speak it into this plain, but do you not worry for his machinations? At any tourney, there are those who might take a deathly blow, or slip beneath their steed’s hooves--” 

“When did you grow so cautious? I can lift a sword and sit a horse--” 

“Should either be sabotaged? Should your plate be poisoned at the feast--” 

“Is there something you are aware of that I should be?” The king challenges. 

“Only that he is his father’s heir, in many ways,” Rogers harrumphs. 

“You think I should fear a dagger up a sleeve when you’ve a servant with two so near your eye?” 

You pause and the duke tuts, “keep on, pip,” Rogers orders as he waves off the king’s devious suggestion. 

“Ah, gentle hands, I see, forgive the poor humour,” he unfolds his arms and grips the edge of the table as he leans. “Rogers, you will be close. Vigilant as ever.” 

The duke sighs, “the winter nears.” 

“Is that it? You never liked the cold, I should’ve guessed it.” 

“I can bear the cold, but travel would be arduous.” 

“You would wait for the spring?” 

“Perhaps,” the duke slides a ring to the tip of his finger and spins it. “And Thor? Has he sent his agreement to this Field of Silk?” 

“I was to ask you the same. I presumed with how you get on, he might prefer you as his messenger,” the king says. “Very well, I will think on your concern.” He clucks and stands, moving closer as he watches you with intent. “I am surprised, I thought you would be most eager for a tournament. You were the Knight of the Lilies for years anon.” 

“A time ago,” Rogers rebuffs. 

“And time is still left,” King Bucky reaches again to tweak his ear, “I know they are rather big, but try not to snip them off, eh?” He japes as Rogers tilts away from his touch with a growl. “I shall leave you to your grooming, though perhaps next time you should just call the stabler.”  

The king strides away as the duke pushes his ring to his knuckle. The shears continue to snip noisily in the silence. The door announces the king’s departure with a sonorous echo. 

“My luggage will need prepared,” Rogers resigns.