#is it too much to ask that wanda's not the primary cause behind shit fucking up again

[wandaposting]

further proof that tumblr user happywanda is 50% a clown and 50% clairvoyant  🤡

[a-splash-of-stucky]

A Messed Up Place | Six

Pairings: Bucky x Reader || Steve x Reader

Summary: Bucky realises that he has well and truly lost his chance

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and human trafficking.

Notes (there’re quite a few): Written for @hellomissmabel. Saying this ahead of time: I AM SO SORRY.

Slight time-jump between this and the last chapter. Part of this chapter was inspired by this song, which I highly recommend you listen to, as it’s quite an accurate representation of Bucky’s feelings (but listen to it after you’ve read the chapter, otherwise, it gives the whole chapter away, lol)

Also, I have no clue what I’m talking about with the drugs bullshit. Also, also: I have a rough timeline for this series, but it’s not completely solidified. So, if you spot a continuity error, do let me know.

AMUP Masterlist

He supposes that he should have expected this. He’s been lucky to get this far without having to do this, really.

Nearly a whole three months have passed without Bucky needing to go on a mission with you. The last one had been about two weeks before you and Bucky ended your arrangement, and even then, Sam and Wanda had tagged along. Bucky can’t remember the last time he was on a mission with you and you alone.

In a way, he’s glad of that — the fact that he hasn’t had to spend more time with you than is strictly necessary. Bucky’s been avoiding you and Steve as much as he can without raising suspicions. By this point, he’s gotten over the initial stages of his grief — can it even be called grief? — at losing you, but it still hurts. His life has just transitioned into a new kind of normal.

But of course, his luck couldn’t have lasted forever.

The intel came through less than 48 hours ago. Nova, a drug cartel known for smuggling heroin across South and Southeast Asia have apparently been bribed to sell a particularly large load of the substance. According to the team’s intelligence network, this particular batch of heroin has been contaminated with traces of radioactive material and is therefore not safe for human consumption. Well. Heroin in general is not safe for human consumption, but this batch is especially unsafe. Primary mission objective, therefore, is to prevent as much of this drug from entering the market as possible.

Beyond that, though, Nova is known to have strong ties with the South Asian human trafficking ring, which has a global reputation for supplying live human subjects to questionable laboratories all over the world, in order for human testing to be performed. The team have been trying to infiltrate their system for several months, now; this could be the breakthrough they’ve been searching for.

Bucky and Y/N thus have a relatively simple mission ahead of them, as far as objectives go. Because Nova targets a particular kind of clientele — the wealthy and elite, marketing their heroin as being ‘premium’, top of the line stuff — the two of you will be posing as a couple interested in buying some of their drug. Couples, for whatever reason, seem to be their preferred customers. In the process, the two of you need to find a way of decontaminating or disposing of the shipment, whilst also worming your way into the human trafficking side of things, perhaps by mentioning an interest in buying some specimens in order to carry out testing back home.

Natasha would have been Bucky’s first choice partner for this mission; she’s the one with countless years of experience under her belt. Moreover, he’s worked with her before, seen how flawlessly she can pull off any role, no matter how different it may be to her true self. Unfortunately, Natasha is currently occupied in Berlin, following up a lead about the German government developing military-grade weapons using Chitauri tech. God knows how they got their hands on that.

So with Natasha out of the picture, Bucky’s next choice would have been Steve, except — well, posing as a couple would have been a tad more difficult. Not that Bucky’s got any reservations about parading around as a gay man in the name of the mission, but, well. Malaysia’s not exactly the most accepting of countries when it comes to that sort of thing. Besides, the punk’s not cut out for espionage. In fact, Bucky would even go as far as to say that he’s completely hopeless at it.

Steve’s idea of ‘going incognito’ is a baseball cap and sunglasses, for goodness’ sake.

And, since everyone else is either occupied with another project, or simply lacks the skill-set required for this particular type of mission, Bucky had no choice but to go on it with you posing as his wife.

The two of you have just made it to your hotel. You’re at the reception desk, checking in. Bucky is slouched in a velvet-upholstered armchair, guarding the luggage. He scrunches his nose and itches the back of his neck. The damn face veil makes for a good disguise, but fuck if he isn’t excited to take it off.

In order to maintain your role as a well-to-do couple, you and Bucky are staying in an upscale hotel in the centre of Kuala Lumpur. The lobby is massive, all double-ceilings, chandeliers, and sparkling marble floors. The whole place practically exudes lavishness from every crevice. It’s not the ideal place to bunk in — not enough escape routes, for one thing — but he can’t be picky when he’s got pretences to keep up.

He looks up as you cheerily thank the crisply-dressed receptionist and make your way over to him. With his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, Bucky allows his gaze to slowly drag up your body. Embodying the look of a classy business woman, you’re dressed in a pair of black cigarette trousers and a white blouse, a relaxed-fit blazer thrown on top. The face veil you have on is projecting the image of a generic ‘pretty girl’ and to complete the ensemble, you’ve got on a black, curly-hair wig, which you’ve tied into a loose ponytail.

“Ready to go?” you ask, picking up your duffel bag and hooking it over your shoulder. “Apparently we’ve got a nice view,” you say, waving the key card in front of his face.

The action causes the stunning diamond ring on your left hand to glint in the sunlight streaming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Bucky wishes the could say that that ring is only there for the sake of the mission.

He can’t, though. That’s not the truth.

The truth is that that ring is one-hundred percent genuine. And Bucky wasn’t the one to give it to you.

—————————

Bucky sprawls out onto the slightly-damp grass after his sprint, cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling with each pant. He yanks up the hem of his t-shirt and uses it to wipe the worst of the sweat off his brow. Heavy footfalls thunder past him and moments later, his view of the sun is blocked by a shadow that looms above him.

“You cheated,” Steve accuses, eyes narrowing to angry slits. Bucky grins.

“Would’a beaten you, even if I hadn’t,” he replies, “You said you wanted to race me. You never said I couldn’t push you into a ditch along the way,”.

“It’s called fair play!” Steve cries in frustration, throwing his hands into the air.

“Dunno if you’ve noticed, Stevie,” Bucky says solemnly, folding his hands together, “But the world ain’t exactly a fair place,”. Steve shakes his head in mock annoyance, chuckling dryly.

“Aww, c’mon, Steve, don’t be sore with me,” Bucky whines, reaching out to tug on the ankle of Steve’s joggers. “Come down here and enjoy the sun. It’s real nice,”.

Steve mutters darkly under his breath but eventually gives into Bucky’s request. He sits down beside Bucky —sighing loudly as he does so — with his legs outstretched and his palms planted behind him, face tilted towards the sun. His foot is near Bucky’s shoulder, so Bucky takes the liberty of poking his ankle a few times, just to see what kind of reaction that gets him. Steve grunts, then kicks Bucky gently with his foot, clearly not amused. Bucky snorts, but moves his hand away, pillowing it under his head.

A moment of companionable silence passes. This is probably the happiest Bucky’s been in — a long time. Too long. Much longer than he’d like to admit.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, breaking their peaceful bubble. His voice is quiet, tentative.

“Yeah?”

“Can I…talk to you about something?”

There’s an undertone to Steve’s voice that raises Bucky’s hackles, sets his nerves on edge. His blood starts to rush a little faster through his veins. Somehow, a part of him just knows what Steve’s going to say. This is it, he tells himself, this is where he calls you out.

“Sure,” Bucky says, voice a little more cautious that he wants it to be.

Steve sits up straighter, crosses his legs and starts to pick at the grass in front of him. “Listen, I—you remember the night you got drunk?”

Bucky stiffens. His heart stops. Worst-case scenarios are flashing through his head at a million miles an hour. He feels like his chest is collapsing in on itself, ribs constricting around his lungs. He can’t catch a breath—

“You—you remember that?” he croaks out.

Steve smiles tiredly. “Look, pal, I—I know you were talking about her,”.

Bucky swallows thickly, tamping down the wave of nausea rolling through his system. “Steve, I—,”

Steve holds a hand out to stop him. “Just listen for a sec, ‘kay? I know you were talking about her, and…and I already had a feeling, by that point. I kinda thought that you might like her,” he admits.

Bucky is all sorts of confused right now.

“Steve, I—what?” he says, completely at a loss for words. “I—you—I thought you didn’t get me—,”

“Pal, you were pretty wasted,” Steve says wryly, “But even shit-faced, I could make out what you were talking about,”.

With a heavy grunt, Bucky heaves himself up, crosses his legs and situates himself in front of Steve. Clearly, they are about to have a Talk™, and those kinds of talks should be had face-to-face (if one is brave enough to manage it), and sitting down.

“Okay, why’re you bringing this up now?” Bucky asks tersely, “Why now, Steve? Because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s been nearly two months since that night and I’ve been going out of my goddamn mind with—,”

“I know, I know,” Steve says, holding both hands up in surrender, “I’m an idiot, I shouldn’t have left it so long. I should’a…come to you a long time ago,”.

Bucky huffs indignantly. “Finally. Some sense has gotten through that thick skull a’ yours,”.

Steve cracks a weak half-smile.

“But Steve,” Bucky continues, wringing his hands agitatedly, “I—seriously, you’re telling me that you’ve known all this time? You’ve…I’ve been going crazy wondering if—if you were mad, or upset or…” Bucky lets his voice trail off in his uncertainty, his eyes trained on Steve’s face like a hawk, tracking even the minutest change in his expression.

“I’m an idiot, I know,” Steve repeats morosely, plucking out a blade of grass and twisting it around the tip of his index finger. “I didn’t…know if you wanted me ta’ bring it up, that’s why. You seemed so…upset about it, so I didn’t wanna push you, if you didn’t wanna talk about it, I guess,”.

“So why now?” Bucky repeats, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tipping his chin up in silent challenge. “Why’re you bringing it up now?”

“Because I love her, Bucky,” Steve says carefully, keeping his eyes trained on the mud-caked soles of his shoes. “I love Y/N, but I also love you, and I don’t wanna go on hurting your feelings,”. As he finishes talking, Steve lifts his eyes to meet Bucky’s stare.

There, says Bucky’s inner voice, now’s your chance.

Steve has given Bucky the opening that he’s been looking for all this while. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity has just about fallen into his lap. The words hang unspoken between them, but Bucky knows without a shadow of doubt that if he admitted to the fact that he still has feelings for you, Steve would take it all in stride.

But can he? Can he do that to Steve? Can Bucky live with himself, knowing that he obtained his happiness by depriving Steve of his?

“Nah, pal,” Bucky says, shooting him a small smile, “I’m over her now, it’s been…what? Over two months since that night, right?”

“Yeah, but—,”

“M’over her, now,” Bucky says, injecting every ounce of authenticity he can into his words, “Really, Stevie, I am. I mean, yeah, I had a crush on her for a while but now it’s…gone,”.

It’s a lie, a blatant, outright lie. If anything, Bucky’s feelings for you have only intensified with time.

Does Steve need to know about that, though? Of course not.

Steve arches an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Bucky,” he says, tone all gentle and patient, “Really, if…if you do, you can tell me, you know that, right? M’not gonna…m’not gonna be mad or upset or nothin’ like that, I just wanna know,”.

Bucky squares his shoulders and looks Steve dead in the eye. “You deaf or somethin’? I’m telling ya’, Stevie, I don’t got feelings for her no more, I really don’t,”. His stomach contorts itself into uncomfortable knots at the untruth, but by this point, Bucky’s buried himself so far deep under a pile of them, what difference does another make?

Steve narrows his eyes in suspicion, but doesn’t press the issue any further. A moment of tense silence slips by.

“Then…can I ask you for some advice?” Steve asks quietly, “If…I…y’know what, nevermind,”.

Bucky’s curiosity is piqued. “Hey, no — tell me!” Bucky protests, “You gotta tell me, c’mon,”.

Steve shakes his head, huffs out a dry laugh. “Nah, it’s…s’ too much after…that,” he says, waving his hand in vague circles.

“It’s about Y/N?”

Steve nods, chewing on his bottom lip in the way he does when he’s nervous. His eyes flick up for a brief moment, catching Bucky’s own.

“I’mgonnaaskhertomarryme,” Steve blurts, the words coming out in a sudden rush, all spoken in one exhale.

Bucky blinks, dumbstruck. He’s pretty sure he caught what Steve’s just admitted to, but just to be sure, he says “Stevie? Could you uh…repeat that? At, like, half-speed?”

Steve swallows. “I’m, uhh…I want to ask Y/N to marry me,”.

“You’re gonna propose to her?” Bucky says slowly, the gears in his brain scrambling to make sense of the situation.

“Yes,” Steve says, tone firm and resolute, as if he’s made his mind up already. Knowing Steve, he probably has.

“Steve, isn’t it…I dunno, a bit soon? It’s only been a couple’a months, right?” Bucky says, throat going uncharacteristically dry because the reality of Steve’s words is now sinking in. He bites his tongue, willing himself to not say what he really means: It’s too soon, Steve. I haven’t had my chance. I have’t had time to show her that I can be good.

Steve’s expression visibly falls, shoulders sagging in defeat. “You think it’s a bad idea,” he sighs.

Bucky catches himself quickly. “No, no!” he splutters, “No, Steve, I—Christ, you just surprised me, is all! ‘Course I think you should!”

It’s not technically a lie. It’s…well. It’s complicated. Half of Bucky thinks that Steve is perhaps jumping into things a tad too fast, but the other half of Bucky thinks that life is too short — even for enhanced individuals — to be sitting around, waiting for the good things to come to you. Bucky as a whole wishes that Steve would back down, just so he can have even the slightest chance at winning your heart. But — he’s had chances before and not taken them, why would he do so now?

Oh, can he have a do-over of this life? Why did it have to end up so complicated?

“Bucky?” Steve asks, resting his hand on Bucky’s thigh and drawing Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Just…wow, Stevie,” Bucky says, coaxing his lips into a smile and praying to the dear lord above that Steve won’t see through the widening cracks in his facade. “M’so happy for you,”.

Steve, the punk, ducks his head in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning a little pink. “Yeah, well. Haven’t asked her yet,” he mutters.

Maybe Steve’s oblivious, wrapped up in his own joy and completely blinded by his love for you. Or maybe, Steve is not actually as smart as Bucky once thought. Whatever the case, Bucky thinks it’s a miracle that he’s gotten this far into the conversation without Steve calling him out, because Bucky’s pretty sure that his pain is written all over his face, plainly apparent in his body language.

“Don’t worry, pal,” Bucky murmurs, “She’s gonna say yes,”.

But a part of me doesn’t want her to.

—————————

The hotel room is swanky. There is indeed, a nice view of the KL city skyline out of their enormous windows, and as a bonus, the fire-escape stairwell is accessible via the bathroom window. You can never have too many getaway options on hand. They’re paying for this hotel out of Stark’s bank account, so this splurge is mostly to keep up with the appearance of the two of you being a wealthy couple. It’s more of a suite than a room, really; the front door opens up to a small living room with an adjoining kitchenette, and the bedroom is through a doorway beside the sofa. There’s an ensuite with a massive shower that Bucky is just dying to test out.

Bucky dumps his bag at the foot of the bed, the flops face down onto the pristine white sheets, moaning in contentment as his body sinks into the marshmallowy softness of the mattress. He reaches for the switch behind his right ear, switches off the face veil, then peels it off his skin and tosses it across the room. The trained soldier inside him is telling him to get out of bed and sweep the room for bugs, but fuck, this bed is way too comfortable to get out of.

“Hey Bucky?” you call, raising your voice so that he can hear you from the living room.

“Mmm?”

“I’m just gonna give Steve a quick call, ‘kay? Just to check in?”

“Go ahead,” Bucky replies, his voice coming out muffled due to the thick duvet.

—————————

“Hey Bucky?”

“Mmm?”

Bucky looks up from his tablet, holding his hand above his eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun. Earlier that afternoon, he’d decided to take himself out of the restricting confines of his room and come to sit in the back garden for a while. Stark had built a little patio area there, complete with fancy outdoor furniture. Bucky is currently relaxing in one of the swinging chairs.

You’re standing off to Bucky’s right, your hands held behind your back. Your body is haloed by the burnt orange glow of the sunset; it’s quite a breathtaking image, actually, spoiled only by the tenseness lingering in the air.

Bucky has a feeling he knows what you’re going to say.

“Yeah, Y/N? What’s up?” he prompts, when it’s clear that you’re unwilling to be the first to speak. He switches off his tablet and tucks it beside him.

“I—um. Is it okay if I sit down?” you ask nervously.

Bucky scoots a little to the left, then gestures to the newly vacated space. You gingerly perch on the swing, back ram-rod straight, your hands shoved into the front pocket of your navy blue hoodie. You’re deep in thought, staring intensely at the grass in front of the swing chair. Bucky allows himself a moment to admire the curve of your jaw and the elegant column of your neck.

The suspense is starting to get to him, though. “Y/N?” Bucky asks softly, “What’s up?”

“Can you keep a secret?” you ask tightly, sparing him a glance out of the corner of your eye.

“Of course,” Bucky says, without a moment’s hesitation. Lord knows that he’s been keeping a hell of a lot of them, for the past couple of months. More than is strictly healthy, if he’s honest with himself.

“I—um,” you start, your voice thick and a little scratchy. You swallow audibly, before turning to look Bucky in the eye. His breathing catches and his heart races a tiny bit faster — out of dread, anticipation and fear.

“Steve…asked me to marry him. I—I said yes. I—we’re engaged. You’re…the first person to know,”.

Bucky’s mind is simultaneously blank and all-too-loud. He clenches his jaw and rages an internal battle with himself, fighting to hold back the tears stinging the backs of his eyelids. He’s been expecting this. The anticipation has been eating away at the last shreds his of sanity ever since Steve told him that he wanted to marry you.

Every.

Single.

Night since that day, Bucky has been harshly jolted from his sleep by the vision of you in white, walking down the aisle like an angelic deity floating on clouds. The more he tries to steer his mind to other avenues of thinking, the more he finds himself nervously waiting for you to tell him the good — the bad? — news. To slam the door in his face, as it were, making it undoubtedly clear that Bucky has no chance with you.

That’s it, then, he thinks. There’s an unyielding sense of finality to the situation. His chance is well and truly gone.

“Bucky?” you ask worriedly, a small line appearing in the middle of your brow.

Bucky swallows, runs his flesh hand through his unkempt hair. “I—wow, Y/N, that’s amazing!” Bucky cries, trying to muster up as much enthusiasm and excitement as he can. It takes no small amount of effort on his part, pretending that he’s happy when in reality, he’s anything but. Bucky’s so exhausted, now — he’s running on his last reserves of energy, trying to play the part of a supportive friend when all he wants to do is breakdown.

You gnaw on your bottom lip anxiously. “You gotta…please can you not tell anyone else? Steve kinda wants to do a big reveal,”.

“The punk’s always been a drama queen,” Bucky murmurs, voice low and tired, the corner of his lip twitching into a little smile.

You’re not smiling, though. An anxious expression is still playing on your features. “I…wanted to tell you directly. I mean, Steve was probably gonna do it, but I—you, y’know, we have…history,”.

Bucky flaps his hand offhandedly, feigning a carefree attitude. “History is history. You’re with Steve now, I’m happy for you,”.

“I know it’s a rush, but…I love him, I do,”. After a pause, you continue, “He’s thinking of having our wedding sometime in June—,”

“What?” Bucky says sharply, interrupting you mid-sentence. He winces internally, realising his mistake. “I—I mean, that’s only what, two, three months from now? A little soon, right?” God, he hopes that that was a good enough save. His heart — what’s left of it, anyway — feels like it’s being squeezed by razor-sharp talons.

In truth, Bucky doesn’t have a problem with the fact that it’s happening so soon. You could tell him that you and Steve were getting married next week and he wouldn’t do anything to stop it. No, the issue is not in the fact that June is only a handful of weeks away; the issue is in the fact that June is…your anniversary. Okay, not technically your anniversary, given that you and Bucky were never actually together in the first place, but June is when you first propositioned Bucky. June is when the two of you first stepped onto this long and winding road.

You nod slowly, expression turning a little wistful. “I know, I know it’s a rush, Bucky. But—Steve is, heh, eager,” you say, laughing dryly. “He’s leaving for that military tour in Afghanistan at the start of July, remember? And he’ll be away for three months, so—,”

“So wouldn’t it be better to wait til’ after?” Bucky suggests, cutting in again. He can’t help it; he doesn’t want to hear the wedding bells chime. He doesn’t want you to get married in June. He doesn’t want you to get married to Steve full stop, but he especially doesn’t want it to happen in June. Even if…June means nothing to you, it means a lot to Bucky and he’d like to keep that month for himself, if at all possible. Besides, three months is…it’s not enough time for him to do something, anything, that could possibly turn this situation in his favour.

When those wedding bells ring, they’ll mark the end of an era. They’ll symbolise the fact that Bucky will never have a second chance with you. He’s not ready for that. Christ, he’s not ready for that.

He doesn’t want to love, if it’s not you; there’s no one else he trusts with his fragile heart. You’ve seen the truly black and broken parts of his soil and somehow, still managed to show him kindness. You know his past, are fully aware of the crimes he’s committed and the sickening amount of blood covering his hands, but yet — you don’t look at him differently. You don’t judge him. Bucky doesn’t want to love anyone else. His heart belongs to you; always has, always will.

“Bucky, you…” you pause, as eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. An expression of curiosity crosses your features. “Bucky, do you not want me to…?” your voice trails off, leaving Bucky to fill in the blanks.

What does he want, really? He wants you, that much is clear, but more importantly, he wants you to be happy — if you find your happiness in Steve, then who is he to judge?

“M’sorry,” Bucky sighs, leaning back and scrubbing a hand over his face, “You put me on the spot, Y/N, just—yeah, that was a little harsh. Uncalled for. S’your wedding, you do what you want,”.

But if he’s honest—

Fuck it, Barnes, he growls internally, that’s the problem, ain’t it? It’s always an ‘if’. You’re never honest. You’re just a goddamn rotten liar, lyin’ to everyone’s faces.

—he wants you to see through his lies. Bucky wants you to see right through the flimsy mask he wears, expose him for the crumbling wreck of a human being that he’s become. He wants you to peel back the curtain, tear open the fine wrappings that bind his sanity together and see Bucky for what he truly is: a hopeless, love-struck, abject failure. Bucky wants to get caught, wants you to see how unhappy he is. He wants you to see the truth, the reality of the situation, but—at the same time, he doesn’t.

“No, Bucky, if you’re not okay with it, the whole June thing, I can talk to Steve, we can—,”

“Y/N, seriously, m’fine,” Bucky says, whipping up a cocky smirk and even managing a small laugh. “Just a little surprised, honestly. Life’s too short to be waiting around, right? Go on, get married,”.

“Bucky, it’s…it’s because it’s June, isn’t it?” you ask quietly, turning away to look into the distance, again. “S’cause it’d be one year, since…”

“Yeah,” Bucky says thickly, “Just seems a little weird, is all,”.

You take your hands out of your pockets — the diamond on your left ring finger sparkling in the light of the setting sun — and place them both on his thigh, forcing Bucky to look into your eyes. “Barnes,” you say softly, “Tell me the truth. What do you want?”

Fuck.

“I—want you to be happy,” Bucky says, voice barely louder than a whisper. He swallows and hopes for all he is worth, praying that you don’t see the lie for what it is. It’s not technically untrue, it’s just not the full truth. A thousand words are clamouring to be spoken. Only two of them really matter, though.

I want you to be happy with me.

—————————

“Barnes!” you cry, snapping Bucky back to the present as you flop onto the bed beside him. “You okay? You seem pretty exhausted,”.

“M’fine, just a little jet-lagged,” Bucky replies, speaking directly into the duvet.

“Shall we go have dinner? Scout the area a little?” you suggest.

With a tired groan, Bucky pushes himself up onto his forearms to look at you. You’re spread out on the bed, hair in a ruffled mess around your face, a playful grin on your lips. For a moment, it’s enough to take Bucky back to the compound, back to six months ago, when he had you all to himself and things weren’t as fucked up as they are now.

The dream shatters like a breaking mirror when he catches sight of the ring on your finger.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “We might as well,”.

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