#queue the hell is bucky?

[navybrat817]

How did CEO Bucky meet his mistress?

Mistress, nonnie? There is no mistress. He has a wife: You.

Both of you laugh about the fact that you started out as his secretary, but how could he not fall for you? Besides making his life easier and able to go toe-to-toe with him, he loves that your real passion is baking cupcakes. You brought in his favorite flavor for his birthday before the two of you were together.

But the most delicious thing he has ever tasted is between your legs. 😏

Love and thanks! ❤️

[navybrat817]

writing fics be like

[navybrat817]

What would sugar daddy Andy do if someone hit on you?

I'd love to give an in-depth answer, nonnie, but we may just see this in an upcoming part. How do YOU think he'd react?

Love and thanks! ❤️

[navybrat817]

I can't wait to meet Sugar's mom. 😇

Why, nonnie? 😂 Or are you just looking forward to Bucky putting Sugar's mom in her place?

Love and thanks. ❤️

[musings-of-a-rose]

There are not nearly enough gifs of Garrett Hedlund in Lullaby.

[navybrat817]

Which face are you today? 😂

Bucky Barnes moodboard

[lavenderpanic]

I want more beefy, muscular Natasha pls

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that. 

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention. 

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it. 

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk. 

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way. 

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive. 

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ingénues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while. 

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you. 

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women. 

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different. 

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together. 

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

[world-of-aus]

But like why do I want bestfriend!Bucky giving his bestfriend 'lessons 😉' you catch my drift?

Alright listen.

Like his best girl is shy to ask for what she wants during sex because she's been turned down by previous partners. He's not having any of that though, he's never known you to be insecure, that just isn't who you are, you have no problem asking for what you want. It becomes obvious to him then that men you've been with are shit, and they just don't know how to please a woman, all they know is their own release. They don't care to take their time with something as precious as you.

He does though - so he offers.

And listen as two idiots in love (its me come on of course theyre in love) not knowing the feeling is mutual his best girl is iffy, it's not going to be just sex to her ya know? But after another night left unsatisfied she cracks, and BUCKY is there to pick up the pieces..

'What do you want sugar?'

He wouldn't like how you shied away from him. He wants you to ask, to take what you want from him, because unlike your previous partners he wants you.

'Hey, Look at me. What do you want? Ask me for it.'

'Bucky Please.'

He never thought he'd hear his name tumble from her lips like this, but he finds he wants to hear it more.

He'd squeeze her thighs, the ones he's knelt between.

"Ask me for it."

And when she'd go to hide behind her hands his much larger ones would catch hers. A shake of his head as he regards her, she'd watch him with baited breath as he took her hands bringing them between his legs to his aching member. He'd want her to know what she's doing to him, how hard he is for her just from being knelt between her legs admiring her pretty pussy all slick and glistening for him.

'You feel that?' She'd nod eyes wide, 'good now ask me.'

He can see where she gets brave, her hands cupping his cock through his grey sweats.

'I want you to eat my pussy.'

'Fucking hell' he'd groan cock throbbing in his sweats.

'I want to cum on your tongue.'

He'd grin releasing your hands, 'good girl, now lie back for me sweetheart it's my turn.'

And queue the brain rot 🫠

[navybrat817]

Sir. 🔥

#material girl

bucky barnes + his reaction to zemo’s riches | tfatws 1.03

[cyberneticasset]

> I'm the subject of a nightmare , > I'm a ghost

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

☆ Independent selective James 'Bucky' Barnes roleplay blog. ☆ Inspired by the Marvel movies and a hell of a lot of headcanons ★ Continue reading for my rules and more ★

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

[ Thread Tracker ]

Banners / layout / pfp by me - Blog originally est. 2016

───── ⋆⋅Links⋅⋆ ─────

★James’ Bio [Last Update: 3/7/24] ★Tags Masterlist ★ Alternate!Verses + Magic!Anons Masterlist ★ Prompts

───── ⋆⋅YSK⋅⋆ ─────

☆Any type of smut/triggering content/etc etc is tagged + will be given a warning [ Cw + TW ] ☆Mostly on mobile, formatting is non-existent ☆Please don't call my character "Winter". ☆Semi-Selective ☆Highly OC Selective ☆Runs off queue

───── ⋆⋅Rules⋅⋆ ─────

General

☆Always 21+, those found to be under that will be blocked! ☆Please don't call my character 'Winter' over his name or any of his nicknames/titles. ☆I have a very erratic work / sleep schedule + a sleep disorder-- ☆Please be patient but don't be afraid to shoot me a message or bump a thread! ☆Non-Exclusive!

Roleplay

★Don't assume our characters are in a relationship / situationship / or some sort of family unless otherwise established or discussed ★NSFW are accepted with prior discussion! ☆☆^^Unless responding to a pre-written prompt or "ask meme", those don't usually need prior discussion ★Everyone (21+) is allowed to shoot a starter or submit and prompt / meme-- Let's just jump into it! ☆Anything on my blog that isn't tagged with a specific person or #closed is always available for a response ★I am not against having multiple threads with the same person/character

───── ⋆⋅About the Writer⋅⋆ ─────

-Wynn, She/Her, 25 -Time-Zone: EST - Over 10 years of roleplay experience, with 7 of those being Bucky -On mobile, no idea how to format! -Erratic work/sleep schedule + sleep disorder can make for weird times --Please don’t be afraid to bump any of my posts or shoot me a message! -Very shy, feel free to reach out lol —Will try and match your writing length!

[gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes]

Stucky fics by Gfawkes

Lis here; she/her, GenX, snarky, salty, geek. I love horses, writing, gardening, running, sarcasm, swearing, and a lot of other nonsense. NSFW always. I have two teenagers. If that weirds you out, believe me, it does the same for me. (This blog runs on a queue (#q) because I’m a grown ass adult and I can only escape here when real life is done). I write stucky and humbly offer the following:

Telephone Game - Stark Tower, friends to lovers, Avengers’ confessions. Also check out the sequel Game of Dice.

Capricious - Hydra Trash Party, porn with plot, happy ending.

Motivation - Gym Bros rom-com with art by @buckybearsdoodles​

Forget-me-not - Alaska / Korean War, Historical AU, Pre Serum Stucky, hurt/comfort, sad with a happy ending.

Fics with ART

I’m fortunate to have worked with some amazing artists for inspiration! Please support their work by visiting the links below and sharing the love!

We are each our own devil (and we make this world our hell) - Dark Angel Steve and Winter Soldier/Bucky in a wingfic with art by @murkycrush

Lost Soldier - Bucky is found by Peter Parker, who sets out to find Bucky’s long lost friend. (hurt/comfort collab with @cobaltmoonysart)​

Where angels fear to tread - Shrunkyclunks and horses (hurt/comfort collab with @sanguineterrain)

As long as there is dusk and dawn, a glimpse of stolen time (fantasy hurt/comfort collab with @liquidlightz)​

The AUs

Gold, Silver, and Virtue - After EG, Steve doesn’t return, but he does come back to the Winter Soldier. (fix-it, Silver Fox Steve)

Have You Ever? - very first fic I wrote. Pre-war, 40s stucky with smol Steve, based on From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler

The Masturbation Challenge - humor/fluff

Dog Fight - Modern Steve and Buck, no powers (hurt/comfort, Marvel Trumps Hate donation by heros.bazaar.art)

Recycled - Cap!Bucky Shrinkyclinks (humor/fluff)

Falling isn’t always a bad thing - Christmas Fluff, modern boys

Zen and the Art of Steve Rogers - motorcycle trip across the US, modern boys

Bucky Barnes Always Rings Twice  - Shrinkyclinks no powers (humor/fluff)

Every Teardrop - Musicians, smol Steve, modern Bucky (humor/fluff)

Fifty Below - baseball idiots (humor/fluff)

A/B/O

Unchanged - apocalypse AU

[lovebugspots]

THE PAINKILLER

chapter three; wedding day.

THE PAINKILLER SERIES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER CHAPTER FOUR: spider-man. CHAPTER THREE; wedding day. CHAPTER TWO; your too flattering. CHAPTER ONE: THE PAINKILLER THE PAINKILLER: INFORMATION

Play Money by the Drums :)

TW: some gore and death

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky was in the med-bay of the compound, his left hand holding a small wedding band, one that his wife wore. Another thing, he was thankful he left at the base. His and his wife's ring... It was simple but timeless, it had a golden band with a 0.50 carat diamond in the middle and 0.05 carat aquamarine stones on the side.

His wife's two favorite stones just so happens to be his grandmothers favorite too. 

How the hell did this come to be?

Maybe it was someone else?

But Logan had no other kids...

Well, maybe he did over these years.

But...He felt her. 

He was her.

Maybe.

He just stared at the ring, it's almost he could still smell her perfume on the piece of metal. It was his girls...

And on queue, he saw the flashbacks of her falling, screaming his name so loudly that he wouldn't be surprised if the other members of the Commandos heard it.

How her scarlet red blood squirted out of her body, the large rock fully going through her body, her organs falling out and dangling, her small intestines looked like rope from faraway.

The memories made him sick, he genuinely wanted to puke as he saw his wife's then corpse.

Wanda stood in the door way and said softly, her brown eyes looking into his blue ones.

"I can read your mind, you do realize that?" Her Sokovian accent rand through his ears and he looked up, thankful she was there.

Now, Bucky and Wanda had a complicated relationship. He was like a father figure to her and Pietro. And they were like a somewhat family...a very traumatized family.

He chuckled and looked up at the young adult.

"I do." He added quietly, his face was pale. He scooted a bit on his stretched and pats his right side. She sat down next to him and leans on his shoulder. 

"You never told me about her..." She mumbled softly. He sighed and kissed her forehead, and wrapped his arm around her.

"It's a painful story to tell." He mumbled.

Bucky had met the twins when they were young, he had known them since they first became HYDRA assets. He was told to give them basic training and that was all, but he saw two children rather then weapons. 

So he also nurtured them, after the long days of experiments he let them lay on him and sleep, even if he himself couldn't sleep. 

All Wanda did was nod, she just asked softly.

"Can you tell me the good things..?"

Bucky gave a sad smile and looked at the ring in his hand.

"She was the most loving person..." He started and looked down to the ground. "She would always help out the ones who needed it, mutants, poor, anyone..."

Mutants, made Wanda curious. Wanda was a mutant, but with help of the power stone it amplified her powers. 

"Mutants?" Wanda asked and turned to Bucky, sitting up.

"She was a mutant, маленький" He said softly.

"Like...me?" She asked.

"Yes, but she had these spikes that came out of her knuckles and elbows." Bucky looked at Wanda and said.

"Her name, was Y/n Laura Howlett." Wanda's eyes widen and she straightens her posture.

"The Y/n? The savior of mutants?" She questioned excitedly.

Bucky nodded, smiling at the fond memories of his wife rescuing mutants from HYDRA facilities in World War II. 

"That, Y/n." He chuckles and looked down at the ring.

"How...How long were you two married?" Wanda asked delicately.

"Almost ten years... It would have been our tenth year anniversary in July." He muttered sadly, his mind going back to when they talked about having a family...

"We got married two or three weeks after she turned 18. We both were 18, I was 3 months older." He paused then stood up, grimacing as pain shot up his back but he ignored it. 

"I can show you our wedding photos." He said delicately and Wanda smiled happily and nodded as she stood up. 

"Can I get Pietro?" He chuckles and nodded.

"Just meet me in my room, маленький." He said softly and pats her head with his flesh hand and walked away.

Once he was in his room, he pulled out an old photo album. 

To which he wished he could thank Peggy, and Steve. Since Steve had all of their things, then he got frozen, so Peggy took it into her hands to take care of their things. Both for Steve and her old best friend Y/n.

He sat down and saw the two walk in, Wanda had a smile across her face and Pietro looked...confused. 

"What are we doing?" Pietro questioned, his accent was thick but soft.

Wanda rolled her eyes in annoyance, and said.

"We are looking at Bucky and Y/n's wedding pictures! I told you!"

"Uh, no you didn't."

"Did too."

"Did not!" 

"Hey! I'm your older brother! I deserve respect."

"Only by 12 minut-"

Wanda got cut off by Bucky's cough. 

"Stop t you two." Bucky chuckles and opens the photo album, and the first picture was him and Y/n at the altar. The old black and white pictures safe behind a thin sheet of plastic. He could smell the cathedral, the old incense, the smell of the candles. 

Wanda looked curiously and asked 

"Is that the Trinity Church here in New York?" 

Bucky nodded and said softly. 

"Yes... That is where me Y/n got married..." He looked at another picture, it was just her. She wore a beautiful lace dress. Yes, now it would be seen as a grandma table cloth but GOD  she still looked beautiful. 

It was a V-Neck top, but it was still modest for the time, and had long sleeves. The dress had gone down to her mid shins, and she had a small veil. It was a small, and tiny wedding. It was during the great depression so they couldn't have a beautiful and lavish wedding of their dreams.

But for only being 18 and barley having 200 or 300 dollars to spend, it was a damn good wedding.

Wanda and Pietro noticed how absolutely love sick Bucky was for her, how his eyes swelled with love.

Wanda flipped the page and saw the small group photos. She only saw Bucky, with his father, mother, and sister.

George, Winifred and Rebecca Barnes. Then she looked to Y/n's family photo and only saw Logan and Victor. 

The look of the great Sabertooth made the twins feel uneasy, knowing what he did. Bucky didn't notice but only traced the smiling photo of his wife, how her Y/e/c gleamed with nothing but love and pride.

Pietro then noticed in almost all of the photos, he was looking at her and never the camera. He was smiling like an absolute idiot. 

He was, and still is so madly  in love with her. No matter all the advances he gets from women and sometimes men, he never moved on. He felt if he did he would betray their love. 

And he can't betray the only woman he ever remember no matter how many times he was brainwashed.

He won't.

Then the final picture, it was him and Y/n, he had held her bridal style as they walked out the church. And he was in the middle of kissing her nose. It was one of his favorite moments, besides that night when they gave them self's each other's most sacred, and pure thing. 

The memories, the beautiful moments. The tender ones, the vulnerable ones, and the bad ones.

No matter what, he was always bonded to her.

And even if she is with him no more, he will never, ever, let another person touch him, and love him the way she did.

Y/n held her boy as he slept. Not letting go.

He had fully healed after the hours of tortured, thank god. Her son slept peacefully, his tufts of dark brown hair where all disheveled from his rough ways of sleeping. 

Something he got from Y/n.

She held him as she listens to his heartbeat, the only thing that kept her grounded.

His soft skin, his soft locks of brown hair and his deep blue eyes. He looked so familiar yet like her, it was odd. 

He had her nose, and overall her face shape, yet he looked like the man she had hunted down earlier. 

She didn't like the pulling feeling she had. She felt drawn to the man, like as if he was her missing piece.

Maybe... he knew her?

God she felt helpless. But then something clicked, she needs to break out of here. 

She looked around and set her son down, his name, his name was Killian. But he was called 'X-33' by the agents.

She kissed Killians head delicately and ran around his room, quietly doing so. Her footsteps where as quiet as a kitten. She dare not to make a noise. If they heard her they would kill her boy.

'We can't do this anymore' She thought to herself as she packed the little they both had. She managed to put it all in one backpack then she looked at her riffle and grabbed it, the smooth metal gave a small shiver to her. 

She puts the gun in a bag and puts the backpack on. She walked over to her son and picked him up gently. 

Now was the hard part.

She grabbed her keys and opens the door and immediately an alarm went off. So, she ran, and ran to her bike that as a few hundred feet away. She got on her bike and her the soft cries of her son and kissed his forehead.

"Shh...Its okay." She said softly as the agents started shooting at them. She puts the key in the ignition and started driving as fast as she could, easily going at 80 MPH, then 85. 

She didn't need to look back, she knew she was out of their reach for now. Her son nuzzled his face into her chest and held her tightly.

She sighed softly and kissed his head and whispers through the wind.

"We did it, baby boy...we are free"

Hours had gone by, and those hours were two days. From Oslo, to Ibiza.

They got a small apartment and Y/n sat down in the plain room. She had to find that man, she had to. 

Then there was a knock at the door, she readied her fist. 

So in any moment her metal spikes would poke out to kill. She opens the door and said in a soft voice.

"Hello..?"

The mysterious man gave a brief nod, and muttered.

"Are you The Painkiller?" He asked firmly, but it was still a mutter, so nobody could hear it.

She quickly grabbed the man from his tie and dragged him inside. His once neat and blonde hair now messy and out of place and his brown eyes wide with fear.

"What do you want?"

She boomed, her voice low and dark as she circled him. Her hand where crossed over her chest and he gulped.

"M-My name is-"

"Spare the intro. What. Do. You. Want." Her eyes glared deep into his as she walked around him

He gulped once more and said shakily.

"I need to have someone taken out." He looked at her and she didn't say anything.

"Who?"

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova" He spat out quickly, then something clicked.

DATE: UNKNOWN

YEAR: 1995

"You are the Painkiller?" Madame B asked quickly, and Y/n, the then Painkiller nodded and the woman turned to Bucky.

"Winter Soldier?" 

The man nodded as well. The older woman nodded and turned around and motioned for the duo to follow.

"You will train our best widow. Natalia." The woman spoke as they walked into a room that was filled with girls doing ballet.

She pointed out to a girl with bright blue hair and yelled.

"Romanova!" The girl didn't flinch but walked over and bowed.

"These will be your new teachers. They will teach you more about combat then we can." The woman said firmly, and Natalia nodded. Her green eyes were dull and she said in a plain tone.

"Yes." 

"Good, now show our two new guests to the training area." She said and the girl nodded and walked with the mutant and the super soldier.

Once they got to the room The Painkiller looked around and set her bag of weapons down.

"Center." The Winter soldier said firmly, and Natalia nodded.

"You know basics?" The painkiller asked through her heavy duty mask.

"More then just basics." Natalia added and The Winter Soldier nodded.

"Good, you start the first attack." He got into a defensive position and the girl did a fake round house kick but made it into a butterfly kick. It was a good move but I was sloppy.

"Your form is sloppy and your not balanced. Do it again." The Painkiller ordered and the girl nodded and tried once more but failed.

"Let me show you, little one." She gently moved Natalia out of the way, and balanced her feet and quickly did the kick and The Winter Soldier used his Titanium arm to deflect it.

"Understand?" She turned to Natalia and she nodded, thinking about how she did it and mirrored her actions.

"Yes! That is it, little one." The woman gave an encouraging nod from under her mask and so did the Winter Soldier.

"Very good." He added.

She shook off the memory and looked at the man.

"Black Widow?" She questioned and he nodded.

"Yes...We need her gone." He said quickly, his heart rate picking up as she got on her knees.

"Pay?" She spat out and the mans face paled.

"P-pay?"

"You expect me to do it for free when I am not a puppet?" She deadpanned, and the man looked down flushed and embarrassed.

"I-I...No." He mumbled and looked back at the woman.

"Then I won't kill her." She similes and stood up.

"But, I will kill you." And just like that, she unsheathed her metal spiked and shoved it through his skull. 

She pulled it out as blood seeped into the carpet, and his brain matter pouring out. The immediate smell of iron filled her nose and she sighed as she grabbed a random sheet and covered the man.

She walked to her sons room and said softly.

"It isn't safe, my baby boy."

The boy pouted and stood up.

"Mama...I don't wanna go..." Oh how naive he is to their situation...

She got on her knees and said softly.

"Oh baby, I know...But, I found something that may help us." She kissed his forehead and grabbed their things and walked out of the apartment. That god her son didn't say anything as they walked out.  

She got on her bike and went to the closest airport and got the first flight to New York.

'If little one is still alive...then maybe, just maybe she can help.' 

She thought to herself over, and over. Both during their wait, and the flight.

And maybe, she will find the man she once knew.

[ltbarnes]

Resurrection Chapter 5

Summary: Bucky Barnes was only nineteen when the lives of his parents and little sister were taken right in front of him by the ruthless members of the Odinson mob. His father’s mistakes have turned Bucky into a vengeful and cold shell of the charming boy he once was, now deeply rooted in the criminal lifestyle of the Stark mafia. Sudden attacks ignite the conflict between the two forces of the city, refueling the rivalry that has been rather tame for years. Nine years since Bucky’s life fell apart, he finds it shattering once more when what was supposed to be long dead returns to the living.

Pairing: brother!mafia!Bucky Barnes x adopted!sister!reader, mafia!Thor Odinson x reader, mafia!Loki Odinson x reader, eventual Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: irritated men in traffic, Bucky is absolutely devastated, guns, people being shot, violence

A/N: it’s been a while since I updated this lol

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"Fuck!"

Sam slams his hand against the horn for the third time since they left the old factory. He knows it's not helping anything, because this traffic jam is not dissolving anytime soon. It's just frustration being let out in a way that doesn't involve hurting people.

Forty minutes—that's how long they've been crawling forward in the midst of hundreds of cars driving. Both his and T'Challa's phones are dead and they are four hours away from where they want to be.

"The clouds are dark. It will be storming soon," T'Challa speaks up, elbow leaning against the window and his chin leaning against his palm.

"No shit, Sherlock. They've been warning about this fucking storm for a week."

"No need for that kind of language, Wilson. We are both frustrated, I am aware," he answers. "I also know that we have to let the others know about what we heard."

"Bucky and Stark are probably on their way to murder all of 'em already. But I can't say I blame them."

"It would be a waste of life. The Odinsons weren't the one to sabotage for us. And if I might say—Thor and Loki are both respectful towards the young girl. Treat her like a sister."

"Yeah, and we didn't blow up a goddamn garage either. Someone is setting both of us up."

Large raindrops begin to splatter down onto the windshield, slowly, until they fall so rapidly nothing can be seen through it. Sam sighs in defeat, slumping in his seat. They're not getting anywhere soon, and bad things are going to happen because of it.

It's crucial that they know about the Odinsons and their innocence, at least in this case. No one is denying that they are morally disturbed people and that they have sabotaged millions of dollars worth of property for the Starks, but this warehouse wasn't blown up by them. And the Starks had nothing to do with their destroyed garage.

Someone is trying to cause conflict between the two clans, start the war that has been brewing for a long time. But quite frankly, Stark has made it perfectly clear that he has no interest in a thing like that. But ultimately, soon it might get to a point where it's inevitable. This information could prevent a hell of a lot of people dying in unnecessary battle.

"Do you think it's those guys—what was their name again? The ones who had Bucky?" Sam asks, resting his hand on the wheel while pressing the back of his head against the seat.

"Hydra? Well, yes, I believe so. It would be the most plausible option," T'Challa answers, eyes set on the never ending queue in front of them.

Unfortunately, they are completely jammed in. Cars surround them from all sides. Sam has a thought or two of ripping someone's car door open and stealing their phone so he can call someone back home. T'Challa would have him face down on the wet asphalt before he could do anything like it, though.

He thinks about Bucky. That goddamn misery on his face, the excruciating realization that someone he thought was dead for a decade has suddenly turned up as if she was never gone. Even through all of the shit they give each other, Bucky is his friend. Shit like this—it's a pain he could never even imagine. If Sam's big sister was shot right in front of him and held captive for this many years, he would burn down the entire world to get her back. He understand that more than anyone.

And god, he barely wants to think about what you could have been put through during all of these years. These big men getting their hands on a little girl associated with the enemy. It's nauseating. But you looked comfortable—joked with these men as if they were your siblings.

Deep down, Sam has a feeling that they actually took care of you, kept you away from harm and shown you the kindness that a young girl deserves. You looked safe from harm and healthy, comfortable enough to talk about personal issues with three grown men. But despite if this is the true version, it could never justify shooting and kidnapping a goddamn child. Their bullets tore through your mother, their hands put your father's body in the river. Their men made you almost bleed out right in front of your brother. That kind of shit isn't just forgiven, even in the world Sam lives in. Especially not in the world Sam lives in.

Yeah, Sam is fucking pissed off on that entire system of assholes both for his own and Bucky's sake. But they sure didn't blow up that Stark warehouse. If he's right, both the Odinsons and the Starks have a much larger enemy to defeat than each other. Hydra is back, and they might be more dangerous than they previously thought.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It's chaos at the compound.

Bucky and Natasha arrived to the news of Rhodes being shot while out taking a fucking walk. They came with the gift of his little sister being alive and captured by the Odinsons. Daring to say that the two of them didn't really hear anything because Bucky had a panic attack before they found anything out is not in his blood. Instead, the excuse of these news being urgent is explanation enough for Stark. Besides, Sam and T'Challa will be here soon.

These feelings are dangerous, he knows. The ones where he can barely see anything through the blind rage. His limbs are restless, longing for a windpipe to crush underneath the strength of his hand. He always does something reckless to jeapordize the mission whenever he feels like this.

He's still standing in the lobby, watching all the people run back and forth, up and down the stairs. Shoulders bump into his side, sending him stumbling while blinking furiously. What was he supposed to do now again?

The rage quickly manifests into tears. Slipping down slowly on his cheeks, falling to the shiny floor with a quiet drop. Bucky is overwhelmed by it all and doesn't know what to do except stand there surrounded by the people who can take action in a time of distress.

"Hey, come with me," a soft voice whispers with a hand to his shoulder. He doesn't even flinch, bring out the aversion to touch his body so naturally has developed through the years.

Thinking too much about wether or not to follow the orders is beyond him, and he follows along with the gentle guidance of Natasha until the large lobby becomes a smaller kitchen. Away from the bustling and running, the people.

A chair is pulled out, placed underneath Bucky with her hand pushing him down to a seat. It's ridiculously rare that Natasha shows this level of care and attention with him. They have a relationship of pushing each other into walls while walking and shutting the fuck up unless they have something important to say. Part of why he likes her—she doesn't expect anything from him.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, you know? You are allowed to cry. You're allowed to be angry and want to cut them up to fucking pieces for what they have done to you," she says, standing in front of him with a hand on his shoulder, looking up through her lashes. "We will get revenge. But you have to get yourself together first. We'll go tonight so you'll have a few hours to sort through things."

"Y/n is..." Bucky's gaze is unfocused, blue eyes clouded by confusion and unshed tears. "My sister—"

"Y/n is fine right now. We will get her back. I swear to you on Yelena's fucking vest that I will do everything in my power to get that girl back to you safe."

Bucky blinks away the haze until his lips manage to quirk up just slightly. He knows how serious it is when Yelena's vest comes into question. Nat's sister would throw herself into fire if it meant getting her vest back unscathed.

"I just—I think I need to be alone," he whispers, swallowing the onslaught of tears wanting to claw their way out of him.

"Yeah, okay. Of course. I'll talk to the guys and fill them in, get a few of them ready to come with us. Need to track the bastards down too."

Bucky nods, wiping underneath his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He hasn't even thought of the fact that they don't know where you and the Odinsons are.

Natasha leaves the room after a single pat to his shoulder. One that's rid of sentimentality but shows she cares nonetheless. Bucky is glad that he at least have someone to be rational for him in these moments, because he's entirely and completely lost.

He doesn't really know how to feel. About four hours have passed since he saw your face again. It's a constant battle of anger and resentment against elation, interrupted by these horrible waves of simple sadness. He's just sad.

Bucky missed so many years of your life because of those people. He could have taken care of you—bought the two of you a small house somewhere outside of the city and maybe get a dog for you to play with. Take you to dance recitals and help you with math tests and yell at you for sneaking out to be with your friends. Things a big brother to someone with no parents left should do for his little sister. Instead he has wasted five years being reckless in the military and one year in captivity, just to spend another three years being reckless in a fucking mob. Countless people have died under his hand, triple the amount tortured and threatened. You would be so disappointed to know what he has been up to—your Jamie (he always acted like he hated that nickname) that you looked up to so much has gone ahead and ruined his own fucking life.

And his mom—he prays that there isn't a heaven where she's looking down at him if only it could save her from knowing what he's done. Her little baby girl shot, kidnapped and held captive for almost half of her life. Her only son throwing away all that potential in the aftermaths of his grief. When it comes to what his father thinks of him, he's never cared particularly much. Bucky knew George was a scumbag since he was a little boy and were much happier whenever his dad wasn't around. He made it his mission to protect you and his ma from the unsteady temper of Mr. Barnes already as a twelve-year old.

But would he care? George was never happy about his wife's wish for another child, prolonged for so many years that she grew too old for another one biologically. After a year of persuasion he caved in and let his wife take in a parent-less baby that desperately needed someone to take care of her. It wasn't enough that George didn't want another kid to begin with—he loathed the idea of a daughter.

His aversion towards you was clear from the beginning, but Bucky still wonders if he would have cared that you've been kidnapped for so long by the enemy if he was still alive. Maybe to keep up appearances, he would grieve publicly. But any effort to retrieve you behind the scenes would be half-assed at most. He was a coward, and daring to cross the Odinsons would be too much for him. Bucky doesn't know all this for sure, but it makes him hate his dead father even more. He hopes you didn't feel the absence of his father's love, that the affection he and your mother showed was enough to make up for it.

The kitchen chair he sits on is uncomfortable. Expensive designer furniture or not, Tony has a horrible knack for choosing style over comfort. It makes Bucky mad. And then it reminds him that some people like the uncomfortable. Steve, for example. That punk has been throwing himself at fists and boots to the stomach ever since he was a kid. But Steve is his best friend and god, he should really call him. Steve should know about you. He has been Bucky's rock through all of it—he was there when it happened, for god's sake.

Yes, Steve has a right to know about your being alive and all that. But that does not make Bucky pick up the phone and call the guy. Speaking it out loud like this, to someone on the outside of it all, feels too real. It solidifies the fact that he has failed you spectacularly for nearly a decade and Steve is going to know that. He might not ever say it, but he is going to be disappointed and angry with Bucky for never trying harder to find your body.

So no, today might not be the right time. He is going to get you back tonight, settle himself down into the reality of your return and then he will tell Steve. No excuses.

Almost an hour passes by before someone else enters the kitchen to the sight of him having his head leaning against the palms of his hands, elbows planted on the marble kitchen island, staring into the intricate pattern of the stone counter. The clock strikes 16:55 as Bucky raises his gaze for just a second to check whoever's bothering his peace.

"Hi, uh, hello—Bucky. Mr. Barnes," Peter stutters as he moves slowly towards the refrigerator.

Parker is a relatively new recruit. Mostly assists Stark with a bunch of bullshit tasks, but that's how you prove yourself loyal. And despite the impossibility of it, the boss seems to have a soft spot for this kid. He's what? 20, 21? It's the youngest they have in the immediate circle.

"I heard about your sister. I'm sorry about that. Hope—I really hope you get her back. Safe," he continues, eyes everywhere but on the stone-faced Bucky. "Actually, Mr. Stark said I might get to drive everyone to the restaurant. Be the getaway driver, you know?"

"Restaurant?"

Bucky perks up from his slumped figure, now entirely focused on the flushed kid with his hand around the fridge handle. Might rip it off soon if he doesn't relax—he's much too nervous around everyone to appear tough.

"Uh, yeah—apparently they're going to be at some restaurant at like, seven. Snowflake, or Frosty or something like that. Never heard of it."

The chair scrapes against the floor as Bucky pushes away from the counter. Not a glance, a goodbye, or a thank you even, comes from his mouth before he barges out of the kitchen.

He bumps into Pietro on his way up the stairs, a mumbled 'sorry' from his lips as the silver-haired man follows his hasty figure with a curious stare. The news have spread around the house by now, but Natasha threatened everyone with a good beating if they bothered Bucky. Those instructions did not reach Peter.

The Bifrost. Surely that must've been the restaurant the kid was talking about. A popular one, but if people in this city knew who it actually belonged to their costumers would scatter. Now that he knows where you're going to be he has a hard time restraining himself from jumping into the car and driving away with only a handgun and two knives to accompany him. But he knows Natasha was right.

Voices and laughter sound from the medical room down the hall. Rhodey seems to have drawn half of the people in this house to him, seeing as some even stand in the hallway due to lack of space. Surely he can't already be awake.

It grows quiet as Bucky pushes himself forward, earning an offended scoff from Yelena as she trips over her own feet. Bucky steadies her with his arm without even sparing her a glance.

To his surprise, Rhodes lies awake, though groggy, hooked up to a heart monitor and IV. He looks fucking exhausted, but there's still a smile to his face.

"You doing alright?" Bucky mumbles, casting a stoic glance around the people surrounding him. It's clear he's the elephant in the room, despite the half-dead man at the center of it.

"Never better," Rhodey answers with a thumb's up. Looped up, that's for sure.

Bucky gives a single nod in answer, crossing his arms over his chest. He may act all unbothered, stoic even, but he's glad Rhodes is okay. He's been a good man to him so far, smart, rational. They need him on this team, mostly to keep Tony grounded.

"Good. Good," he whispers before gulping, glancing down to the floor.

He can almost feel the sympathetic looks everyone gives him. Bucky hates it, but somewhere he knows it's because they care.

"Right. We should get back to business," Nat says, nodding towards the door. "Need to know which ones are coming with tonight. Thinking we'll go through it now."

Several people shuffle out of the sterile room into the dark hallway, leaving Tony, Pepper and Happy left with Rhodes. The latter probably won't notice the sudden clearing of space with how much morphine he's on.

Red hair leads the way towards a meeting room on the other side of the upper level. An oversized table stretches out from wall to wall lined with bookshelves of unread books, surrounded by thirty ridiculously expensive oak chairs. Tony made it a point to explain how much he sacrifices for everyone's best, when everyone knows he just likes to splurge.

Bucky nearly, almost, feels emotional when he sees how many sit themselves down to help him rescue his sister. A person they don't even know, simply because of how much you mean to him.

Yelena, Nat, Pietro, Wanda, Coulson, Shuri, Vision, Marc, Maria, Brock. All these people care enough about Bucky to care about you. He knows Sam and T'Challa would be here too if they weren't so goddamn slow. Bird-brain probably stopped for some fucking iced coffee and got stuck in a Target. Apparently haven't answered any of Nat's texts or calls either. Better be goddamn alive.

Okoye and Carol are out trying to figure out who the hell shot one of their own. Bucky feels bad that he's taking away manpower from that, even though he simultaneously wants to gather every damn person in the world willing to fight for his sister. This is the most important thing for Bucky, ever.

"So, Bifrost, huh? Gonna be easy to get in. Never have much security," Shuri says as soon as everyone's seated.

"We don't know that. My source tells me the whole inner circle's going tonight," Nat answers. "We have to gear up either way. Be prepared."

Bucky soon zones out, only listening when any mention of an actual plan comes up. The image of your arms wrapped around yourself, tears wetting your cheeks, displays at the forefront of his mind in a constant loop. That you might've had that expression every day destroys him. This life that he leads—if he knew you were alive he would have kept you as far away from it as possible. It's not something you should grow up with. He and his ma shielded you from a lot when you were a child, to the point where you didn't even have a clue about what your father did.

All of that effort seems pretty pointless now, when you've grown up in an environment even worse. Hell, Bucky can't offer you much better. But at least you will be loved. Protected. God, Bucky would spend the rest of his life by your side if you needed him to. Maybe he could convince Tony to get you into some prestigeful university so you could get a good education and make something of yourself. Take you and Steve to Coney Island on the weekends.

"Yes, yes. Natasha, you have gone over this three times. We understand," Shuri says, interrupting his deep train of thought with her irritated exclamation. She hasn't really inherited the near royal politeness her brother possesses. "Now, where the hell is my brother? Four hours late."

"That голубь probably crashed the car, I swear," Yelena says, an amused grin playing on her lips.

"It's a rainstorm outside and 5 pm traffic. They're probably just stuck. Phone battery dead," Nat says. "They'll be back soon."

"I suppose we are to get ready soon if we are leaving in twenty minutes." Vision leans forward in his seat, searching for Nat's eye contact. She answers with a nod, pushing her chair out from the table.

"Coulson and Hill, you go fetch the kid and make him warm up the cars. Visit the arsenal while you're at it, too."

"Yes, ma'am," Coulson says with that familiar content smile on his lips.

People start to trickle out, cleaning their knives and stretching their limbs in preparation. Things could be easier than expected or end up in straight war, but they throw themselves at the opportunity anyway. This is family, by now.

"I'll go with Hill and Coulson," Brock speaks up for the first time during the meeting with a few fingers raised nonchalantly, as if he's asking a question in the classroom.

Bucky has to resist from rolling his eyes. He's never really gone along well with Rumlow. Sure, everyone in this damn mansion has a predisposition for violence but that man just thrives in it. Always smiles a little too much while plunging a knife into someone's neck. Narcissistic bastard, as well. Of course he wants to handle the weapons. Probably just coming along for the opportunity to shoot an Odinson in the head.

"Why are you telling me?" Nat answers with a glare. "Just go."

When it's just him and her left in the room, a quietness falls over the space that is suffocating him. He's anxious beyond compare. What if they don't succeed? If you're left there while your only potential rescuers get shot to death or captured themselves? Things can't go wrong tonight.

"You gonna be okay?" Nat asks from where she's sitting on the other side of the table. "If you think it's too much, we can do it without y—"

"No. Not a chance in hell," he seethes. "I'm going to get my sister back."

"Well, okay then. Let's go."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It's 7:30 PM when three sleek, black cars pull up outside of the coveted, Odinson-owned restaurant. The windscreens are dark enough for the security guards standing in the entrance to not see through. When they do see, it's too late to send warnings inside to their bosses.

Bloody knuckles and knocked out men instead lie just outside of the lavish doors, courtesy of one Brock Rumlow with the assistance of Marc Spector. Yelena whines about them not leaving anyone left for her. Natasha scolds her for the lack of patience. Bucky just stares through the darkened glass doors while bringing out his gun.

These are the last moments of his life where he can still wonder about what having you in his life again will be. In an hour he will either be dead or you will sit next to him in a car. You might not recognize him, might be scared, might hate him for leaving you here all these years. But goddamn it, if he isn't going to give it his all to get the both of you out of this restaurant alive.

A firm hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing in silent affirmation. Bucky's act of indifference is fooling no one. Not even the kid who drove the car all the way here.

"It'll be alright," Vision says.

And Bucky nods, because even if his fear tells him otherwise he knows you will no longer be stuck. In his very bones.

Maria pushes forward after Pietro gives her the okay—he's surveyed the perimeters. Everyone is gathered inside. She turns her head over her shoulder, hands grasped around her gun. The sound of weapons being loaded reminds Bucky of a falling domino.

"Alright, guys. Enter in three, two, one..."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

CHAPTER 6

[starkerhowlter]

Princess Parker -- 9

Rating: M Ship: starker (tony stark / peter parker) Tags: Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fashion Designer Peter Parker, Engineer Student Tony Stark, slow burn, stolen moments Summary: Tony Stark’s in love.

But not with the conventional. Instead, his soulmate is known for temper tantrums about pink lemonades that are too sour and scuffs on the toe of his Louboutin shoes. He’s materialistic, superficial, and cares way too much about his face.

So why can’t Tony stay away?

Read below or on AO3

This fic was beta'd by my favorite human in the world: @cozysafechaotic and I couldn't be more thankful! A special shout out as well to my sprinting goblins in the Super Starkers Discord for their believing in this fic and helping me through writing it and nailing down these crazy kids into their lovely selves. Thanks so much, guys.

I promise that I haven't forgotten about this fic and I swear the last two chapters are waiting in the queue to post in the next two weeks. Life got in the way and I graduated college!

9 -- Fated Arrangement

        Bucky jumps when Loki corners him a week later. "What the hell are you doing, man?" 

"I need your help."

"And 'Hey, Bucky, I need your help' wouldn't have worked?"

"No. Of course not." Loki scoffs, leading the boy to a table on the patio. "I need your help crossing social lines."

"What?" 

"Tony has a crush on Peter."

”And this is news to you? I thought you guys knew everything.” ?" Bucky arched his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Peter has a crush on Tony too." Loki clarifies.

Bucky  replies confused, "And what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?”

"Peter and Tony need to meet up and talk through all this frustration.” Loki waves their hand in the air ambiguously. “We’ll use one of the empty fashion classrooms.”

"That would work, but neither of us know where that is."

"Gods you absolute cretin. How you have made it this far in life is beyond me. The fourth floor of the Nelson building Room 425." The fashion god rolls their eyes and takes a sip from their $11 latte.

"Oh, like you know where every classroom on campus is.” Bucky sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. When do we want to do this?" 

"2:30 today. There’s no classes in the room for an hour before or an hour after. No one around to witness whatever social travesty may occur.”

"Perfect. I will be there with Tony." 

"Don't get caught, Peter specifically requested privacy."

"Why?" 

"He's terrified of "social suicide" or something. Which I can respect," Loki confesses with an eye roll, "but, he also feels that because it’s a Tuesday."

"I mean fair." Bucky shrugs, "So 2:30 in the Nelson building?"

"Don’t be late." Bucky nods, walking away from the fashion student, rolling his eyes. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky said, dropping his tray on the table and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth, smiling at the feeling of Steve’s fingers in his hair. “Yo Tony, check your phone.” Bucky nodded towards Tony as he took a bite of his apple. 

"O...kay?" Tony pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and reads the texts from Bucky. He nods, silently, looking up and seeing Bucky show Steve the message he’d sent Tony, traitorous romantic bastards. Tony tries his best not to scarf down the rest of his food in his excitement. “I have to go, see you guys at dinner possibly?" The others at the table nod, smiling. Tony swears out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve give him a thumbs up. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tony stares at himself in the mirror of his dorm, unsure of what to wear for this. “What do you wear when you meet someone like Peter?” He asks Freddie. 

When the poster (obviously) fails to reply Tony sighs with a laugh. “Useless”

 Searching his closet, he decides on a white tee with his vintage leather jacket over it was good enough. His jeans have tears in them, but not in the way that it looks like he can't buy better ones. Instead, it's in the 'artful' way. 

He cracks his neck, staring at Freddie on his wall. "Wish me luck, mate." He murmurs, touching his hand to the worn spot on the corner of the poster, where Freddie's mic stand leaves the frame. "This could change everything."

_-_-_-_-_-_-

Peter is in the same predicament. Staring into his massive closet of designer clothing, trying to decide on the perfect appearance for the meeting with Tony. He pulls out a dress shirt from Anton Alexander. It's a swear-by shirt for Peter, usually saved for presentations and job interviews, but today, it's for meeting his soulmate. 

Is Tony his soulmate? Peter picks out a pair of red jeans and his black Louboutin Samson’s, dressing carefully in the clothes. He brushes out his hair, smiling as his curls fall into place. He picks up a tube of pale pink lip gloss, brushing a ghost of the color onto his lips before touching up the simple eyeliner from earlier that morning. He nods, just as Loki knocks on his door. 

"Hey, are you ready for this, Peter?" Loki asks, opening the door. Peter nods again, smiling at his friend's reflection in the mirror. Loki has gone green with their outfit today, the color a perfect match for their complexion and a simple statement of 'you can't afford me.' Peter turns to them, "Do any of the others know where we are going?"

"Nope. The only people who know are Bucky, Tony, you, me, and probably Bucky's boyfriend."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for respecting my wishes for privacy.”

"For sure, dahling. I wouldn't want you fucking yourself over royally just because you had a little crush on a boy. But it's already 2:07 and I doubt you want to keep the boy in question waiting?" They asked with a teasing smile, checking their watch dramatically.

"Shit! No!" Peter gasps, grabbing his keys, wallet, and phone before locking the door to his dorm room; Loki following close behind.

_-_-_-_-_-_-

By the time Tony and Bucky find the Nelson Building, It's already 2:10. "Fuck, I hope we aren't late..." 

"No, Tony, he said 2:30. We're meeting them in room 425."

As soon as they enter the building, they feel out of place. The white marble staircase leading them to the second floor greets them and there are pictures of notable designers that are alumni of the school. "Holy, woah. Why have we never been in here?" 

"Clearly, we don't belong in here," Tony whispers, leading Bucky to the elevator. The gold doors part and open to the marble interior, and the two step inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor. The elevator dings gently, and begins rising to the selected floor. It dings again, as the doors part. This floor is different from the main lobby. The walls are pastel green, and the ceiling is covered in drawings of clouds. It almost feels like a children's hallway. All of the doors are closed and the hallway is dark. "Are you sure this isn't a prank? Bucky this hall looks abandoned."

"Loki said 425. They should be here. What would they gain from pranking you?" Bucky sighs, "Just... let's find the room and then we can decide from there." 

Tony nods, following the signage that leads them around the corner to room 425. 

Bucky motions to the door, "Here it is. Want me to go in first?" 

"Sure. Is anyone in there?" He asks, picking at his nail nervously.

Bucky glances in the window, "Loki and Peter. I don't see anyone else." He catches Loki’s eye as Loki starts towards the door.

Loki opened the door and gestured for Tony to enter. “Well, in you go.” They said as the fashion major exited to the hallway.  Bucky and Loki shared a smile between them, as they leaned against the wall, guarding the door. 

"Um... hi." Peter begins, "Sorry about this." 

Tony smiled at Peter. “All good.” 

Peter chews his lip nervously, the movement catching the other boy’s eye. Just before Peter catches him, he quickly begins glancing around the space.

"So what’s this room for?" The walls are covered in patterns and fabrics, and each model on the back wall is wearing some form of costume. The desk Peter is sat on is clearly his, judging by the leather and glitter adorning the drawings next to him.

 Tony smiles gently, meeting Peter's eyes. Oh hell, how he wishes he hadn't. The moment their eyes meet, he feels like he's come home. Everything that Tony was ever worried about was gone in that minute. He looks so fucking perfect sat slightly above him on the table.

 Oh, how Tony could get used to that view. 

"Oh, it's for Design 101. It's purely for teaching us how to create our own patterns and trace them onto fabric and how to create clothing items. It’s basically a studio."

"But wait, I thought you were a Chemistry major?" 

"Actually, I'm both.” he shrugs dismissively, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.  “I’m double majoring with a minor in environmental science," Peter flushes, pridefully. 

"That's really impressive.” Tony stammers, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So” Tony stammers, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So which do you want to use in your future?" 

"I think I want to work with fashion more, but maybe use my chemistry knowledge to write out formulas for new colors and fabrics. The environmental science minor is just a brain workout. Don’t want to come off as a ditz now do I?"

"That's, wow, that’s something. You’ve got some serious balls taking on the hardest major for fun." Tony replies, reveling in the way Peter preens at the compliments. A soft blush tints his cheeks and Tony resists pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead. 

"But we didn't come here to talk about that. I asked you to meet me here because--"

"Time's up." Loki says as they open the door and nodding towards the hallway.. "If you both want to make a break for it, now's your chance. The next class comes in ten minutes."

"Fuck, why can't we ever have time alone. It's like the universe is keeping me away from you," Peter pouts.

"I know, but there's a funny thing you should know about me," Tony leans in and for a moment Peter thinks he's going to kiss him again. Just before their mouths connect he murmurs, "The universe doesn't stop me." Tony pulls away, leaving Peter gasping on the desk.

"It's true," Bucky jokes, leaning against the door frame with a reassuring smile."If he wants something, nothing will stop him." He nods towards Tony with a shrug. 

Peter returns the smile. "Thank you. For doing this, I mean." 

Bucky nods, "Absolutely. I mean, you should thank Loki, they arranged all this. We gotta roll though if we want to avoid people questioning us." 

"Alright. Can I have a minute with Tony though?"

"I mean, I'm not his keeper, but I’m gonna get out of here. Catch you two around." Bucky winks at Peter, texting as he heads out.

"Bye, Bucky!" Peter smiles. 

Tony turns back to Peter with a soft smirk. 

"I just wanted to… I just” Peter stammered. “I'm sorry I'm gonna go." 

As the boy passes, Tony touches his wrist. "No! What did you want?" 

Peter sighs, and curses under his breath. He grabs Tony's shoulders and twists towards him, moving to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. Before he can, however, Tony turns his head to meet Peter’s eye. 

"Well, I was trying to kiss your cheek but I suppose this will do," Peter said with a soft giggle, pressing a gentle kiss to Tony's lips, shoulders dropping at the feeling of familiarity. "I’ll see you later, okay?" 

"The third-floor ballroom? No one uses it after dinner. We can sneak in and no one will see us.” 

"Deal."

"See you tonight." Peter kisses Tony's cheek and sits down at his desk, watching Tony leave. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-

The evening couldn't come fast enough. Tony fights the urge to hang out outside the classroom, waiting for Peter to return. 

If he didn’t think it would jeopardize Peter’s social status, he would press the boy against the wall and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him. Right here, right now. 

Everything in him screams for Peter, for the boy he can't have.

--

Thank you so much for reading!!! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are MUCH appreciated!

[ghostsandmirrors]

This is Paris attacking Crow...

"Who's Bucky?"

Send me a quote from my character’s canon and they will share EXACTLY what went through their minds when they said it, and how they currently feel about it.

"Who the Hell is Bucky?"

"I don't remember sayin' this. That whole time is kinda blank. It was probably to Steve so what was goin' through my head was," queue a stereotypically caveman-esque impression, "'No Bucky, only Soldat.'" He gave a small laugh. "I've said so much worse to him."

"M'neutral. Don't remember it, can't be anythin' else." He shrugged. "Literally called him 'my mission', and it weren't even bein' used as a bad pick-up line." He paused for a moment to consider things. "I gotta torment Steve with that as a pick-up line."