#steve wants to drown bucky most nights

[gayspacedrawings]

Prince Tony is a menace and a brat

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Lonely Nights

Two uploads in one day? I'm cooking. Also inspired by @/shurisneakers grumpy x grumpy works, go check her works out they're amazing

Summary: Attending a party with the man whose whole goal in life seems to be annoying you to no end goes...not exactly as planned

You've lost count of the number of parties Natasha has dragged you to attend. You're pretty sure this is at least the tenth one in the past month, which is ten times more than the number of parties you usually attend. Then again zero times ten is still zero so you're not sure how the math adds up.

Grabbing another glass of whiskey, you stare at the golden liquid swirling around, trying to drown out the noise in the background. Parties really are far too loud for your taste, the only good thing to come out of them is the free flow alcohol that you constantly take advantage of. The drinks taste even better knowing that the tab is on a certain genius playboy billionaire and so at every party you lurk at the bar, inhaling drinks until you get hungover.

Tonight, there's a newcomer — Bucky Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier. Turns out he's Steve's best friend who was thought dead and you have to admit, the brunette is quite the handsome man, although you'd rather die than admit it out loud. He's currently following Sam who seems to be on a mission to talk to a girl for more than a minute, and from the look on his face, quite enjoying the other's multiple failures.

You take another mouth of whiskey and look away, relishing in the way the liquid burns on the way down. Natasha has disappeared, probably to outdrink yet another poor soul, leaving you all alone at the bar counter, not that you mind. You quite like the personal space and lack of need to socialise with another human being, two things that are currently being challenged by a certain brunette you were watching not too long ago.

"Go away."

"I see you've been learning some manners." He leans over to take a glass of whiskey for himself, downing half of it in one go.

"And I see you haven't." You glare at him.

"Maybe you should introduce me to your teacher, I might just learn some manners then." He simply smiles at you.

"Hmph." You turn back to your glass. "So what are you doing here?"

"Was invited to the party by Tony." He swirls his glass before downing the remaining half. "Same as you."

"I can tell. Why are you sitting right next to me after I told you to get lost?"

"I believe you said 'go away', not 'get lost'."

"Same thing." You pinch the bridge of your nose. He was getting on your nerves as always, you sometimes swore he saved all his cheek for you and you alone.

"Nope it isn't. One is asking me to simply leave, the other is asking me to lose all sense of direction —"

"Okay Mr Dictionary, didn't ask you for the difference between 'away' and 'lost'. Why are you still seated next to me?" You grab another glass from a passing waiter and immediately inhale one third of it.

"I'm tired and want to sit down." Bucky shrugs.

"There's plenty of other seats out there." You gesture to where the crowd is.

"Here seemed the most comfy, although the company it offers could use some work." He smirks, biting back an amused huff when you roll your eyes.

"Then go and find company elsewhere."

"But you'll be lonely. As a gentleman, I cannot stand by and let a lovely person such as yourself spend the night alone." He dramatically places a hand over his heart.

"Since when were you a gentleman?" You snort, knocking back more alcohol. You were going to need more if this bastard insisted on spending the rest of the night with you.

"Since the moment I saw you sitting here alone."

"How chivalrous. You want a lordship or something?"

He laughs, reaching over the counter and pulling out a bottle of vodka. "If only you could grant me one."

"Dunno. Could try pulling some strings or something, haven't tried granting anyone a lordship before. First time for everything, am I right?" You toss a bottle opener his way and he catches it, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have this on you at all times?"

"Swiped it from the waiter just now. Was going to open one myself but since you've already taken one you might as well share. Sharing is caring, right?" You wave a hand.

"Then sharing this bottle would imply I care for you." He pops the cap open and starts chugging.

"Hey! I provided the bottle opener! I deserve some!" You yelp, rising from your seat. He easily dodges your attempts to grab the bottle from him and grins, waving it just out of your reach. Growling, you leap onto the counter and dash along it, successfully swiping the bottle from his surprisingly loose grip. Hopping back down, you gleefully wave the bottle before chugging the remaining liquid inside, letting out a satisfied sigh when not a drop is left.

"I win!" You cheer, laughing. All that alcohol is making you giddy and you lean a little too far backwards, stumbling towards the counter but before you can hit anything, a pair of arms wrap themselves around you, stopping your fall.

"Can't have you dying before granting me that lordship." Bucky grunts, placing you back onto your seat. You try to shove his arms off, making a face when he refuses to let go before resuming your scowl and crossing your arms.

"I'm not dying before you," you huff, annoyed. More importantly, you weren't about to die from a fall when you've survived aliens, gods, superhumans and everything in between.

"Congratulations on surviving purely out of spite all this while. Would you also like a gold medal?" Sarcasm drips heavily from his words.

"I'll take one." You don't miss a beat, even when tipsy. Bucky would admire that, really he would, unfortunately he's on the receiving end of your sass so it's already less admirable because of that. At least him being here means you won't be meeting your end via counters, he would miss all that wit and sarcasm if that were to happen. After laughing at your cause of death.

"Unfortunately I don't have one right now. Mind waiting for a bit, doll?" His lips quirk upwards ever so slightly.

"A gentleman making someone wait? What kind of gentleman are you?" You lift another snagged bottle to your lips, taking a swig.

"One that knows you're caring enough to share that bottle with me." He easily wrestles the half-drunk bottle from you, chugging the rest while keeping you at arms length with his forearm pressed against your chest. "Thank you for your generosity."

"You're not welcome!" You huff, futilely hitting his arm in an attempt to close the gap. He grins, turning the bottle upside down to show you there's not a drop left.

"Asshole." You scowl, gripping his arm tightly.

"My pleasure." His smirk is infuriating and with the alcohol clouding your mind, the moment he drops his arm you close the distance, wiping the smirk off his face with a kiss. Your lips connect and his eyes widen, but he kisses back, his metal arm snaking around your waist while his flesh one pulls you closer so that he can devour you.

Bucky's lips taste of vodka, whiskey and whatever else he drank before being your nuisance and it tastes good. You breathlessly pull away, cheeks flushed and grab a breath before diving back for another round.

"You're a pathetic kisser," you gasp after pulling away for air again.

"And still you want more." He licks his lips, ice blue eyes shining with mirth. "What does that say about you?"

"That I'm going to need to teach you how to kiss."

"Then teach me." He lifts your chin up. "The night's still young."

"Step one: shut up." Your lips crash into his again and he shuts up, savouring the kiss.

"Step two: don't stop." He murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair.

"Step three: eyes on me, only me." You press your forehead against his, feeling his warmth. "Took you forever to kiss me."

"You're the one who took forever, I was always open to it."

"Asshole."

"Idiot."

"You just asked an idiot to be your teacher."

"I don't mind this idiot being my teacher." His thumb runs over your bottom lip. "After all, this idiot is my idiot."

"Hate you."

"Love you too."

[the-winter-spider]

Spin You Around | B.Barnes

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Angsty, happy ending

A/N: Someone requested this forever ago, im revamping and editing all my fics so i decided to just repost this!

Revised Version

Masterlist

———-

1943

You were across the bar from Bucky and Steve. You came with them—they were your best friends—but an old acquaintance spotted you and waved you over. You excused yourself and made your way to where you were now. Even as you tried to focus on your conversation, your eyes kept drifting back to Bucky. Every time you caught his gaze, he was staring at you. When your eyes met, he gave you a soft smile before taking a sip from his drink. He said something to Steve before making his way toward you.

Your friend squeezed your arm, noticing Bucky’s approach. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she said before slipping away.

“Hi, doll.”

“You miss me that much?” You gave his shoulder a light shove, trying to mask the nervous flutter in your chest.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip—a habit of his that always drove you crazy. Before he could respond, you quickly added, “Why aren’t you out dancing, Buck? There are plenty of pretty girls here tonight. I was just on my way back to keep Stevie company.”

You were deeply, madly in love with Bucky, though you didn’t realize it until Steve pointed it out one night after you saw Bucky locking lips with another girl. He was a ladies’ man, and you’d known that for a long time. But knowing didn’t make it any easier to watch. You told yourself nothing would ever happen between you two, so you settled for your place as his best friend.

Bucky reached out and took your hand, pulling you closer. The thudding in your ears grew louder—your heartbeat, you realized. “Yeah, but why would I want to dance with them when I’ve got the most beautiful girl in the world standing right in front of me?”

Your mouth fell open, and heat flooded your cheeks. You looked down, avoiding his eyes, trying to process what he just said. Bucky flirted with you all the time, but this… this felt different.

“Buck…” you trailed off, still searching for the words.

“Dance with me, Y/N.”

Your eyes met his again, and there was something in them you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the usual playful glint; it was something deeper, something that made your stomach twist. “Is everything okay, James?”

“I just want to dance with you, doll. So, will ya?”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “How could I ever say no to you?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He led you to the dance floor, and you couldn’t help but glance back at Steve, who was watching from the bar. He gave you a thumbs up, but his smile was tight, almost forced.

Bucky placed a hand on your waist, pulling you close as you began to sway to the music. His other hand held yours against his chest. You felt his heart beating beneath your palm, steady and strong. But something was off. The longer you danced, the more you could sense it—something was wrong.

When the music shifted to a faster tempo, Bucky surprised you by picking you up and spinning you around. You laughed despite yourself. “Bucky!”

“Did you say faster?” He laughed along with you, but when he set you down, the mood shifted. His hands lingered on your hips, his laughter fading as his gaze met yours. His eyes were searching, almost desperate.

“James, are you sure everything’s okay?” you asked again, more insistently this time.

He gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Of course, doll. I’m here with you.”

The song ended, and Bucky suggested getting a drink. You agreed, though unease settled in your stomach. Back at the bar, Steve gave you a teasing grin. “That was interesting to watch.”

You forced a laugh. “I thought I was going to show everyone what I had for dinner.”

“She’s being dramatic,” Bucky said, but there was a tension in his voice. He handed you your drink, and you took a large gulp, trying to drown the growing anxiety. “I’m gonna head to the ladies’ room. Don’t miss me too much, okay?” you said, trying to sound lighthearted as you turned away.

“I already miss you, doll!” Bucky called after you, but his voice cracked just slightly.

In the restroom, you were reapplying your lipstick when two girls walked in, their conversation catching your attention.

“I can’t believe he’s going off to war,” one of them said.

“I know. He’s such a looker. A shame he probably won’t be coming back.”

Your stomach twisted at their words, but you kept quiet until they noticed you. The redhead gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear about Bucky,” she said. “I know you two are close.”

You froze, your lipstick forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

The redhead’s eyes widened. “You don’t know?”

Her friend snickered. “Guess they’re not as close as we thought.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “Know what?”

The redhead hesitated, then offered, “Maybe you should talk to James.”

Her friend rolled her eyes. “He told Beth he enlisted. He leaves in a couple of days. Didn’t think you’d be the last to know.” With a final smirk, they left you standing there, your world spinning.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to process what you’d just heard. Bucky was leaving. He hadn’t told you. He’d told Beth—a girl he probably didn’t even care about—but not you. How many others knew before you did? Did Steve know? Were they planning to keep it from you until it was too late to say goodbye?

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, refusing to let yourself break. You forced yourself to breathe, to pull it together. But when you stepped out of the washroom and saw Bucky and Steve sitting there, laughing like nothing was wrong, the hurt crashed over you like a wave.

You made your way back to them, your hands shaking. Bucky’s eyes found yours immediately, his smile faltering when he saw your expression. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked, reaching out for you.

You pulled your hand back, the hurt evident on your face. “When were you going to tell me?”

His brow furrowed. “Tell you what?”

“Buck,” Steve whispered, his voice full of guilt.

Your gaze snapped to him. “You knew?”

Steve looked down at the table, unable to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shame coloring his tone.

You scoffed, the betrayal cutting deep. Grabbing your coat, you turned to leave, but Bucky shot to his feet, panic in his eyes. “Doll, I was going to tell you after tonight. I just didn’t want to ruin—”

“Ruin what?” you snapped, your voice trembling. “Ruin the perfect night you planned before you just disappear? Or maybe you were waiting for your next girl to spill the beans.”

“Y/N, please, I—”

But you didn’t let him finish. You pushed past him, not caring about the tears blurring your vision. “Goodbye, James,” you choked out, leaving him standing there, with his heart in his throat and yours shattered on the floor.

A couple of days had passed since you overheard the news from that redhead and her friend. The anger, the hurt, the heartbreak—they all clawed at you relentlessly. You cried, you raged, but deep down, you knew you had to face him. The thought of letting Bucky leave for war with things unresolved gnawed at your conscience. Regret was a burden you couldn’t bear to carry if he didn’t come back.

When you finally mustered the courage to open the door, Bucky was standing there, hand raised mid-knock. The relief in his eyes was palpable. “Y/N,” he breathed out, as if he’d been holding it in all day. You forced a tired smile and gestured for him to come in. As you turned away, you noticed he was already in uniform. It hit you then—he was leaving soon. A fresh wave of tears welled up, and before you could stop them, you broke down, burying your face in your hands.

“Darling, please don’t cry,” Bucky murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. He pressed soft kisses to your hair as you clung to him, your sobs muffled against his chest. “W-why didn’t you tell me, Buck?” you choked out, your voice trembling with the weight of all the things you’d kept bottled up.

He held you tighter, as if afraid you’d slip away. “I was going to. After that night, I wanted one last dance with you, without you knowing. I wanted one more moment of happiness, just you and me, before… before everything changes.”

You sniffled and pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to hold in the pieces that were breaking. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though it hurt to do so. “But why tell Beth before me?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the pain behind them was real.

Bucky shook his head, desperation in his eyes. “I didn’t. She must’ve seen me when I was signing up. I promise, doll, I only told Steve before we came to get you. You have to believe me.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of a lie, but all you found was sincerity—and fear. You nodded slowly. “Okay, Buck. I believe you.” Relief washed over his face, and he took a step closer, his hands gently cupping your face. His thumbs brushed away the lingering tears as he tilted your head up to look at him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his breath warm against your lips. His voice was thick with emotion, raw and unguarded. Your heart pounded in your ears as his lips hovered over yours, barely touching. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. When you didn’t, he closed the gap, kissing you with a longing that made your knees weak. You pulled him closer, desperate to keep him with you for as long as you could. But the kiss ended too soon, both of you breathless, clinging to the moment.

“It was always you, Y/N,” Bucky murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “It will always be you.”

You wanted to hold onto those words forever, to freeze time and stay in this moment where everything felt perfect, where it was just you and Bucky, no war, no goodbyes. But reality crept in, and with it, a deep, aching sorrow. You felt your heart crack, a piece breaking off with the realization that this might be the last time you ever had him like this.

“Why now, Buck?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice laced with regret.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away the tears that were starting to fall again. “James Buchanan Barnes, self-appointed ladies’ man, scared of little ol’ me?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re different.”

“Isn’t that a little too cliché, even for you, James?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, but your heart wasn’t in it.

“Different because this,” he said, taking your hand and placing it over his heart, “belongs to you. It always has. I was scared you wouldn’t want it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Bucky, I—” The words failed you. How could you put into words the depth of what you felt?

“I was terrified that if I told you how I felt, you wouldn’t feel the same,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I would’ve rather had a part of you than lose you completely.”

“How did you know?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“Steve,” he replied, a small, rueful smile on his lips as realization dawned on you.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you muttered, shaking your head, but there was no real malice in your voice.

Bucky laughed, a sound that was both joyous and sad. “I wish I’d known sooner.”

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart heavy with the weight of lost time.

He let go of your hands and walked over to your living room, where he began sorting through your records. You leaned against the doorway, watching as he carefully selected one and placed it on the turntable. A slow, melancholy tune filled the room, and Bucky turned to face you, his eyes soft but filled with a sadness that mirrored your own.

“Y/N, would you like to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.

You smiled faintly, taking his hand. “I’d be delighted.” You let out a small giggle as he pulled you close, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything was okay. But as you swayed to the music, reality crept back in, and the question you’d been dreading slipped from your lips. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“When do you leave?”

He hesitated, his grip tightening around you. “In the morning.”

Your heart dropped, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. You tried to pull away, but he held you tighter, as if he could keep you from slipping away like the night itself.

“Please, doll, this is all I want. Just this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. “I can’t do this without you, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“Do what? Dance” He smiles softly trying to make light of the situation, the heaviness.

“Live,” You murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Doll…” He breathed out, his own tears threatening to spill.

“No, Bucky, you don’t get it,” you choked out, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re everything to me. My heart belongs to you, and no one else. Soldiers don’t always come home. What if you don’t come back? What am I supposed to do then? I have Steve, but he’s not you. Bucky, I—”

He silenced you with a kiss, soft and lingering, a promise he couldn’t guarantee but desperately wanted to keep. “I promise I’ll come back to you, doll,” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with a conviction that was as fragile as it was earnest. “Whatever it takes. I love you, Y/N.”

His eyes searched yours, pleading with you to believe him, to hold on to hope.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I love you too, Buck,” you whispered, but the fear in your heart made the words feel hollow, as if saying them out loud might jinx everything.

And as you held each other, swaying to the fading melody, the night stretched on, bittersweet and fleeting. The dawn would come too soon, and with it, the cruel reality that nothing—no amount of love or hope—could keep the inevitable at bay.

-----

2023

Bucky leaned against the railing of the compound’s balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warm chatter inside. An investor party, Steve had called it—something about needing to keep the Avengers funded now that Stark was gone. Sam had quipped that money didn’t grow on trees, to which Steve dryly replied, “It’s made of paper, so technically…” That had earned a chuckle from the room, but Bucky hadn’t joined in. His thoughts were elsewhere, rooted more in the year itself than in the meaningless gathering behind him.

He gazed up at the night sky, swirling the whiskey in his glass—a drink that once would have had him grinning ear to ear, arm in arm with Steve and you, with the same stars twinkling overhead. The memory brought a faint smile to his lips, but it was quickly followed by an ache that settled deep in his chest. He hadn’t had much time to indulge in his self-pity, not with everything that had happened. Steve had always been there to drag him out of the darkness, but tonight it seemed even Steve couldn't hold back the tide.

As if on cue, Steve appeared beside him, his hand landing on Bucky’s shoulder with a familiar, grounding presence. “You okay, Buck? I know you don’t like crowds.”

Bucky sighed, a sound heavy with years of regret. For a long moment, he just stared at the sky, the words building up in his throat, too thick to swallow. “I was thinking about Y/N.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Steve’s expression shift, surprise mingled with something else—understanding, perhaps. “What about Y/N?”

“Everything,” Bucky replied, his voice low, almost lost to the wind. He paused, taking a sip of his drink, the burn a distant memory. “I just… I wasted so much time not being with her.”

“You didn’t know, Buck,” Steve said softly, trying to offer some semblance of comfort.

A bitter laugh escaped Bucky’s lips, sharp and jagged. “Y’know, I promised her I’d come home. I broke that promise.”

Steve’s face tightened with empathy. “You can’t beat yourself up about that, Buck. There was nothing—”

Bucky’s grip tightened on his glass until it shattered, the shards falling to the ground like the remnants of his broken promises. “That’s not the point, Steve!” he snapped, his voice cracking with the weight of all the years he had kept these feelings bottled up.

“Buck, calm down—”

“No, you don’t get to do that,” Bucky cut him off, pushing himself away from the railing. His voice was trembling, raw with emotion. “You wanted me to express my feelings, well, this is it! It’s not fair, Steve. She was supposed to be it. I had a ring.”

Steve’s lips curled into a small, sad smile. “I know.”

Bucky blinked, confusion knitting his brow. “Know what?”

“About the ring,” Steve said, his voice thick with old memories. “After you went down, they gave me your duffle. I found it.”

Bucky’s legs felt weak, and he lowered himself onto one of the patio chairs, his mind reeling. “I was going to propose when I got back,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “I was so sure I was coming back.”

Steve moved to sit beside him, letting out a long sigh. “Y’know, I was going to go back.”

“Go back where?” Bucky asked, though part of him already knew.

“To see Peggy,” Steve continued, his tone reflective, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Bucky. “Live the life I was meant to have. When we went back to get the stones, I kept a Pym Particle. Once everything here was settled, I was going to go back. I was gonna tell you, but… things changed. Peggy got married, and I met Sharon. I found happiness again, in a way I didn’t expect. It wasn’t the love I thought I was destined for, but it’s the one I want now. I’m not who I was then.”

Bucky stared at Steve, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “Why are you telling me this, Steve?”

Steve stood up, a determined look in his eyes. “Come with me.”

Reluctantly, Bucky followed, the two of them weaving through the dwindling party, silent as shadows. Bucky didn’t ask any questions, just trailed behind Steve until they reached his room.

Steve knelt down, pulling out a box from beneath his bed. He handed it to Bucky, who took it with a puzzled frown. “Open it,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky lifted the lid, and his breath caught in his throat. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded velvet, was the ring he had planned to give you all those years ago. His hands trembled as he picked it up, the metal cold against his skin.

“How?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, his eyes never leaving the ring.

“I kept it with me,” Steve explained, his voice soft. “I was planning on giving it to Y/N after we found the Tesseract, but I never made it back. It came down with me.”

Bucky twirled the ring between his fingers, lost in thought. “Do you think she would have said yes?”

Steve smiled, a gentle, knowing smile. “Why don’t you find out?” He reached into the box again, pulling out something small, something Bucky never expected to see again—the last Pym Particle.

Bucky stared at it, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “Steve, I—”

“Whatever you decide, Buck,” Steve interrupted, his voice firm but kind, “just know that it’s your choice. The past doesn’t have to be a chain around your neck. It can be a second chance.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked between the ring and the Pym Particle, the future and the past colliding in a way he hadn’t thought possible. For the first time in decades, he felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—hope.

2023

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, Buck, for the thousandth time, yes.”

Bucky fiddled with the ring in his hand, standing on the small platform as his heart raced. The mix of anxiety, excitement, and fear churned inside him, making his hands shake ever so slightly. Steve could see the turmoil in his old friend’s eyes as they waited for Scott to finish setting up the machine.

The secrecy of it all was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. Steve couldn’t stop thinking about how much trouble he would have been in if Tony was here, if he ever found out, Steve would have never heard the end of it.

Convincing Scott had been easy enough, but Bruce would’ve insisted on studying the last Pym Particle instead of using it for something like this. But Steve knew Bucky deserved this chance—this chance to reclaim a piece of himself.

“What if she doesn’t want me? What if she married?”

Steve sighed, trying to keep his patience. “Buck, she didn’t.”

“How do you know that?” Bucky’s voice was tight with worry.

“Peggy told me. She never married. She tried to set her up a few times, but Y/N just never did.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Steve. What if she only wants that Bucky? The one she remembers. What if she doesn’t want who I am now?”

“Buck, stop.” Steve’s tone was gentle but firm. “Trust me, I know she’ll love you no matter what.” He gave Bucky a reassuring smile and a wink, coaxing a small laugh from him.

Bucky looked down at the ring in his palm, its simple design gleaming in the dim light. “I’m gonna miss you, y’know?”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Buck.”

“Okay, Captain, Sergeant, it’s ready whenever you are,” Scott called out, his voice laced with excitement. “Time’s set to 1950, so your ages should roughly line up. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“That’s perfect, Scott,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “Say hi to Y/N for me, will ya?”

Bucky nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Of course.” He pulled Steve into a hug, holding on longer than he normally would. “Thanks for everything, Steve.”

As they pulled away Bucky gave Steve his famous smile, a smile Steve hadn’t seen in a lifetime “Don’t do anything stupid till i get back”

Steve clapped him on the back “How can i? You’re taking all the stupid with you” then stepped off the platform to stand beside Scott. He gave Bucky a thumbs-up, his eyes filled with both pride and a touch of sadness.

Bucky took one last deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “Do it,” he said, his voice steady now, filled with a resolve that had taken decades to build.

Scott flipped the switch, and the world around Bucky blurred into a vortex of light and sound. The sensation was disorienting, a rush of memories and emotions flooding his mind—his first meeting with you, your laughter, the way you had looked at him like he was the only person in the world who mattered. The war, the promise he had broken, and the endless years of loss that followed. But now, as the machine hummed and the years rewound, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

1950

The light faded, and the world came back into focus. Bucky found himself standing in a quiet street, the air thick with the scents of a time long gone. He looked down at himself, noticing the familiar clothes, the old boots, the weight of the past stripped away. His heart raced as he took in his surroundings, recognizing the neighbourhood instantly.

Bucky smashed the device as Steve had instructed, then straightened his clothes, fixing the glove over his metal hand. He slipped the ring into his pocket and took a moment to steady himself before making his way to your house. Steve had mentioned that Peggy said you stayed in the same place, believing he would come home because Bucky never broke his promises—especially not to you.

This was it. This was his chance.

Clutching the ring tightly in his hand, Bucky made his way to your door, every step both terrifying and exhilarating. When he finally stood before it, his breath caught in his throat. The last time he’d been here, he had been a different man—a man who believed he could conquer anything. Now, he was here not as the Winter Soldier or the haunted man the world saw him as, but simply as Bucky—your Bucky.

The walk was short, but each step felt heavy with anticipation. His nerves buzzed as he approached the familiar doorstep, his hands in his pockets, his heart pounding. The house hadn’t changed; it was just as he remembered. He paused at the door, taking a deep breath before raising his hand to knock.

He paused at the door, taking a deep breath. What if you didn’t remember him the way he remembered you? What if time had changed more than just the years? From inside, he heard shuffling, followed by your familiar muttering under your breath. A smile tugged at his lips despite the tension. When the door opened, and he saw you, it was like time had stopped.

You were as breathtaking as the day he left—maybe even more so. Your eyes widened, filling with tears as you took in the sight of him. “Bucky?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Hey, doll,” he managed, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s been a long time.”

You gripped the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles turned white, trying to steady yourself. “Is it really you?”

“It’s really me, doll.” Bucky didn’t realise he was crying until you reached out to wipe away his tears. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you into his arms, holding you as close as he could. Your hands found their way around his neck, and you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Oh, Buck, I knew you’d come back to me. I knew it,” you murmured, pulling back slightly to look at him. “No one believed me. They said it was grief, but I knew.”

Bucky chuckled softly, resting his forehead against yours. “No one knew me better than you did.”

You didn’t reply right away; instead, you placed your ear against his chest, listening for the heartbeat you had longed to hear. When it thumped steadily beneath your ear, tears flowed freely. You didn’t know how or why he was here, but none of that mattered. Your Bucky was home. “I would have waited a lifetime for you, James,” you whispered.

His heart swelled, knowing how true your words were. “I promised I’d come back, doll. It was always you.” He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear. “There’s something I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you—longer than you know.” He laughed softly, nervous but determined. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you, and I should’ve told you that day. There were so many things I should’ve done differently, but the one thing that’s never changed is how much I love you.”

A radiant smile broke across your face, one that had haunted his dreams for years. “Are you going to kiss me now?”

“I’ve been waiting a lifetime to do that.”

You started to respond, but Bucky didn’t wait. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was everything you both had imagined and more. It was a kiss that erased years of regret, one that made the world fall away until there was nothing but the two of you. When he pulled back, it was only for a moment, just long enough to catch his breath.

There was a question burning in his mind, a question that might seem too soon to anyone else, but for the two of you—who had waited through lifetimes—it was perfectly timed. Bucky reached into his pocket, his fingers finding the ring. He placed a soft kiss on your lips, then knelt down on one knee. The realisation dawned on your face, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Y/N, I—”

“Yes,” you breathed out before he could even finish.

His smile was wide and unrestrained as he took your hand. “Y/N, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for what feels like forever. You were always the only one for me, and you always will be. I would have found you in any lifetime. There’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of this life with.” He paused briefly, steadying his breath as he tried to calm his nerves. “I know it’s been years—lifetimes, even—but one thing has never changed. It was always you, and it always will be. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes welled up, but a smile broke through, bright and warm—the smile he’d dreamed of for so long. “What took you so long?” You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you held out your hand. He slid the ring onto your finger, where it had always belonged. Bucky was finally home—right where he was meant to be.

In that moment, as he slid the ring onto your finger, Bucky knew that everything he had endured, all the pain and loss, had led him to this. To you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with all the emotions he had carried for so long.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, your voice trembling with joy.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside your door faded away. The future was uncertain, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that Bucky had finally kept his promise, and in doing so, had found the happiness he had long believed was lost forever.

2023

“Y/N, you would have loved Sam,” Steve chuckled as he finished his weekly updates. “I’m sure Bucky told you all about him. He always pretended to be a hard ass around him, but he loved him—I know he did.” Steve paused, as if waiting for a response that would never come. “I think ill allow him to meet you next week”

He sighed, standing up slowly and brushing off his knees. “I’ll see you two later. Don’t do anything stupid till I get back,” he said with a bittersweet laugh, his heart aching at the silence that followed. He lingered for a moment longer, unwilling to leave just yet.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Steve turned to see Sam standing beside him. “Time to go, Cap. The team’s waiting.”

“I’m coming,” he replied softly. He turned back for one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes tracing the engraved names on the headstone, side by side.

Here Lies,

Mr. and Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes & Y/F/N Y/M/N Barnes

A Once in a Lifetime Love.

“Goodbye, pal,” Steve whispered, his voice filled with the weight of years gone by.

As he walked away with Sam, he felt the familiar ache of loss, but also a sense of peace. Bucky had found the happiness he deserved, and now, at last, they were together—forever.

[crowsofdarkness]

Vaz Prizrak: Chapter Fourteen

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader.

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, violence, mentions of losing a pregnancy, thoughts of taking one's life, an attempt to take one's life. I will give another warning when that chapter is posted.

Summary: Bucky and Reader have been in their own solace while in Wakanda for years. They were finally happy to create the life they wanted and deserved. That was until a new foe came along to dust it all away.

Authors Note: This takes place during Infinity War and Endgame! If you haven't yet, please read Soldat and Dorogaya beforehand.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl @cats-chaotic-mind @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @pumpkin-babydoll @ordelixx @starfly-nicole @j23r23 @baw1066 @capswife

Soldat Masterlist | Dorogaya Masterlist | Vaz Prizrak Masterlist

“Will you stop it,” I smacked Tony's hand from my face. 

“I don’t understand how you’re alive right now,” He pondered. 

My eyebrows rose at him. “Super healing, remember?” 

“Actually the bullet grazed her head, she’s very lucky to be alive,” Bruce said as he entered the room. 

I still was located in the medical bay of the compound, only waking a few hours ago. Bruce had mentioned that he wanted to keep an eye on me before allowing me back on my feet; even if I healed fast or not. 

From what Bruce had told me is that the bullet in fact only grazed the side of my head but if Steve hadn’t pulled me from the lake, I would have drowned. 

“I still think it’s cool if we tell people that I healed over the bullet but whatever,” I joked with a shrug. 

It was weird. After my almost death experience and that dream of Bucky before waking, I had become my old self again. Joking around with my friends and feeling a sense of happiness fill my veins.

Bruce and Tony shared a chuckle. 

“Is she going to be ready? Just because you tried to end it doesn’t mean we're stopping our plan. We bring everyone back in-,” Tony looked at his watch briefly, “-T-minus two hours.” 

“I’ll be ready,” I nodded afrimly. 

“You need to rest.” 

We all looked into the doorway of the room and Steve leaned against the wooden frame, arms crossed over his chest. 

After I had awoken, Steve had told me that I had been asleep for almost twenty four hours. They all thought I wouldn’t wake up. Steve was more worried than anyone. 

“Let’s give them a minute,” Bruce mentioned to Tony. 

Once we were alone, I patted the empty spot at the end of the hospital bed. 

“I think we need to talk,” I said. 

He nodded. “Only if you’re up for it.” 

I pulled my legs to my chest while sitting up. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through, Steve. It was wrong of me to do that in front of you. And it was so fucking wrong to use you like that.”

“You didn’t use me, Y/N,” Steve said while squeezing my thigh. 

“Didn’t I? I used you for sex hoping to feel something. It’s disgusting,” I scolded myself. 

Steve gave a slight shrug. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

I couldn’t help the giggle that fell through my lips. 

“No it wasn't,” I admitted, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks remembering us together, “But I shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m a terrible person.” 

I tried to look away from him but he wouldn’t allow it, lifting my chin oh so gently to look into his eyes. 

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Y/N. I don’t think of you any less or love you any less for what happened,” Steve avowed. 

A smile played at my lips. 

“I love you too, Steve. Even though our night together was amazing, I can’t do that to Bucky; not again,” I admitted. 

Steve nodded with a sad sigh. “I know. It’s always been hard to compete against him.” 

“Hey,” I spoke while grabbing his hand. “You two are not competing against each other for me. I love you both but with Bucky, it’s more than what I feel with you. It’s because of our past together and what we’ve been through. We were both there for each other through one of the roughest parts of our lives.” 

“Bucky always had been a great guy. He’s lucky to have you,” Steve stated. 

“Promise me something?” 

When he nodded, I continued. “Promise that you won’t let how you feel about me stop you from finding love? Don’t let what happened with you and Peggy happen with us.”

“Only if you promise me something?” 

It was my turn to nod.  

“Promise that you’ll have a room for me when you fix up your house?” Steve smiled with his demand. 

“Deal.” 

My lips reached my eyes with how big I was smiling. We chatted for a while, just the two of us like how it used to be; back in our Shield days together. There wasn’t any awkwardness or fear of hurting the others feelings for what we had decided. 

Steve was the only closest person I had left in my life and I was incredibly grateful that he had chosen to stay alongside me even if I had decided Bucky will forever be the one for me. 

“You know, when this is all done, we should give Natasha a funeral. Even if we don’t have her body, she still deserves it.” I voiced my thoughts to Steve. 

With a quick kiss to the top of my head and a squeeze to my shoulder, he agreed. 

“Hey guys.” 

Both of our attention turned towards the doorway of the room and saw Tony peek his head in. 

“It’s ready,” He announced. 

Steve and I looked at one another before he nodded. “We’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Do you need help walking to your room?” Steve asked once he saw me pulling out my I.V’s. 

I wanted nothing more than to change out of this medical gown and into my tactical suit. 

“Nope. Meet you down there?” 

Steve agreed with a nod. 

With my hands clenched tightly around the necklace Bucky gifted me for my birthday, I listened as the men of my team fought on who would wear the gauntlet. 

“I’m the strongest avenger. I will be the one to do it,” Thor stated. 

Tony quickly shook his head. “It’s not only that the glove is channeling enough energy to blow up an entire continent, you’re in no condition.”

“What do you think I have coursing through my veins right now?” Thor chuckled. 

“Beer and cheese wiz?” Rhodey suggested.

My boot stomped loudly on the ground, letting the others know how annoyed I was with this petty argument of who’s metaphorical dick was bigger. 

“Jesus, will someone just decide already?!” I snapped getting impatient. 

The gauntlet with all of the infinity stones sat neatly on it’s pedestal in front of all of us, teasing us with the mere thought that we were seconds away from bringing everyone back. And these idiots couldn’t stop fighting on who was going to wear it. 

Steve gave me a disapproving look and immediately I apologized with a shrug.

“We’re so close so sue me for getting impatient.”

“Someone wants to see her lover boy,” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at me. 

“Damn right I do,” I couldn’t help the excitement I felt. 

Before I saw the gauntlet, I had so many doubts that this would actually work; that we would actually be able to retrieve all of the stones and create our own gauntlet. 

I was tired of dancing with Bucky’s ghost in my dreams. I needed to feel his warm embrace around me again. 

There was a lingering thought in all of our minds, however, one that we were all very afraid to ask out loud. 

“Will this bring her back?” 

My attention turned towards Clint and even though he didn't utter her name, I knew he was wondering about Natasha. 

Sadly, I shook my head. “No. What we went through on Vomir can’t be undone. I’m sorry, Clint. She’s not coming back.” 

I swallowed the large lump in my throat to hold back the tears. 

“So we need to do this right; for her,” Bruce suggested. 

We all nodded in agreement. 

“Which is why I need to be the one to wear it,” Bruce continued speaking. “We all saw what it did to Thanos, it almost killed him. None of you could survive.”

The decision was made and final; since Bruce was mostly made up of gamma, he would be the one to make the snap. 

“Remember, bring back everyone who got dusted five years ago to now, today. Don’t change anything from the last five years,” I reminded him. 

“Got it,” he nodded. 

Steve pulled me close to him and slid his mask over his eyes which caused me to place Bucky’s old mask over my own face. Flames sparked to live, creating a shield to protect Steve and I from whatever aftermath would occur from Bruce’s snap. Everyone else protected themselves in their own way. 

“He’s coming home,” Steve nodded towards me. 

Bruce yelled out in pain as the gauntlet came to live, the sparks causing my eyes to sparkle in awe. In one fast snap, he fell to the ground in pain and we all saw his right arm burned and bloody; an aftermath caused by his snap. 

Steve, Tony, and Thor all crowded around Bruce, wondering if he was alright. Scott and Clint had ventured off to the other end of the room, muttering something to themselves, something that we couldn’t hear.

“Did it work?” I asked everyone. “How do we know if it worked?” 

They looked at me, smiles wide on Clint and Scott’s faces, but I couldn’t ask why they were so ecstatic. I then realized that we were missing someone who had been on this mission from the get go.

“Where’s the robot?” I asked.

A thunderous boom shook the building and our bodies to the core as fire rained down upon us, encasing us in debris and darkness. 

[seikkoi]

ᴡɪᴛʜᴇʀ | j.barnes x f!reader

READ ON AO3

Your words hang in the air like laundry on a rainy day–pointless and unchanging in purpose. The empty space dares him to say something back, but the more time passes, the less sure he seems. His mouth opens and closes, jaw tense and fighting against something inside.

“I can’t be what you need.”

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. post-snap au, secondary character death, implied/referenced abortion, survivor's guilt, grief, ptsd, etc., explicit mentions of alcohol, angst, hurt with absolutely no comfort, no y/n usage word count: 5.1k

“James–” you try to call out, and the syllables die in your throat.

He pauses at the threshold, shoulders slump. 

“I can’t,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

The walls thunder when the door slams behind him, leaving a silence empty enough to hear your own pulse. It’s quick, adrenaline still rushing and heat still dancing on your tongue. Even though you feel defeated in your own right. You thought you would have so much more to say, so much more anger to let out. Insults and frustrations you’ve buried over months. But your admission had sliced deep enough, and Bucky was clearly uninterested in staying for round two. 

It wasn’t meant to end like this, you weren’t supposed to tell him like this. You had anxiously prepared for this conversation, waiting for a night he was sober enough to remember you existed. He’d call over and over from midnight to two in the morning, breaking your will with every ring until you answered and save him from whatever hole he was drowning in. Or, he’d show up and plead for you through the door. You obliged him every time, saying it was for your neighbors peace and not your own. But that was a lie, it was for you–each time. 

You couldn’t stand leaving him alone and broken, and he needed that. He needed someone to care. Something solid, safe. You were a journalist–not risking your life everyday and grounded enough to understand why he still did. 

Yeah, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, but that wasn’t stopping him. He wanted to pay the world back. Do anything to make all the terror worth it. It didn’t matter that the toll could never be paid in full, that the universe never asked for retribution. He didn’t think he deserved to have anything else. 

In the beginning, after HYDRA fell, it gave him purpose. He started to feel normal. Steve pulled him back into the world a year ago when all he wanted to do was hide away. He thought he could, thought he was ready. It felt good to save people instead of harm. To have children reach for him in safety. He listened to Sam and attended the veteran’s meetings. He didn’t need to share for everyone to know who he was–the sight of the brooding, gloved man in the corner with dark eyes told enough on its own. He soaked in the stories of others, taking solace in knowing no one experience was unique. 

He started going out, living. Steve and Sam drag him to the gym a few times a week, which inevitably spirals into the gym and lunch afterwards. On Sam’s birthday, he guilts Bucky and Steve into ‘just one shot’, which, of course, inevitably spirals into several shots and a few beers.

Bucky won’t say it then, but it’s the most normal he’s felt since 1945. He watches Steve make a passionate argument for English beers (to Sam’s dismay), and swears he watched him make the same argument 50 years ago in a bar two boroughs over. 

He had gained the courage to venture the city on his lonesome. It was overwhelming and exhilarating. Streets he thought he knew like the back of his hand had completely transformed, and totems he thought would be long forgotten stood the test of time. 

He winds up back in Brooklyn, strolling the outskirts of his old neighborhood. He didn’t dare pass the frontier, not yet. Still, it felt good to be this close. The streets were different now—sleeker, polished, bustling with a new generation of dreamers—but their roots carried the scent of home. The barbershop he used to frequent is now home to an upscale coffee shop. The old brick facade is now limestone white, and he honestly might prefer it that way. 

He had another few blocks of reminiscing to do, but the door swings open as a young couple emerges in high spirits, carrying a very enticing croissant and a mouth watering smell to match.

He doesn’t catch you on the other side of the glass–looking away from your laptop to catch some leather-bound brood get seduced by a pastry. You chuckle as the choice seems to take him very little time to make, stopping just long enough to watch the couple walk by and catch the door behind them. 

He seems innocent enough despite the heavy coat and deep scowl. You can’t help turning slightly in your barstool to watch him, sticking out from the new age pop music and neon lights. You have to hide in your book when he heads for the empty seat next to you. 

“Did no one ever tell you staring was impolite?” 

You stammered an apology as he laughed and asked what you were reading. After you ramble for a minute too long, he pledges to give it a try and let you know what he thinks. 

“Same time next week?” he smiles, knocking against the counter and leaving as quickly as he entered, treat in hand. 

You didn’t want to take what he said seriously. Obviously, it was polite sarcasm. He didn’t mean it. You weren’t getting dressed and heading back to the cafe the following week because you expected him to be there or anything. No, no. You had an article to finish and that was your spot anyway. If he’s there again, it’s not because of you, it’s because of the croissant, obviously.

But he is there. Not only is he there, he’s got the book you recommended in hand. He waves the spine enthusiastically across the room when you take your place at the counter, and you try not to smile too hard. 

You didn’t think it’d spiral into anything. You hadn’t meant to ask him for his number the next week, it just sort of stumbled out–under the guise of talking about the book, of course. 

Instead, you two talk about anything but that. At first, Bucky’s shy to admit he didn’t quite get some of the references, and you happily spend a half an hour explaining Blade Runner. He begs you not to call him James out of embarrassment, and you do it anyway (eventually, it turns into a well-liked habit). You tell him about the time you tripped crossing the graduation stage, and he laughs as if he was seeing it live. 

For weeks you find yourself glued to your phone well into the early morning hours, swapping high school stories and food criticisms with such ease that you forget your giggling with one of the world’s deadliest assassins. You avoid bringing it up–you were a journalist, you read the papers. You didn’t need him to relive that to you. Especially when you were both too busy falling hard, and fast. Phone calls turn into dinners that turn into him spending the night in your bed. 

Before you know it, you’re spending your Sundays watching him completely fail a pancake flip in your kitchen. There’s warmth in the air, in your ribs. Settled and comforting in a way you never knew you needed. And then he presents his blob shaped creation like a true work of art and you realize you don't want that feeling to go anywhere. 

He brought that into your life, swelling and warm with every terrible pancake flip, soft smile, or kiss to your cheek.

And Bucky was better for it. To know he could love, to be loved in return. It grounded him more than any ghost walks through the old neighborhood ever would. This, what he had with you, it was here now. 

Maybe the fight could truly be over. Maybe he was finally safe. 

And then, Thanos happens.

It is the worst month of your life. You go from slow dancing in the living room, leaning against him and taking in the calm of his heartbeat, to watching the news in horror as Thanos’ army came to Earth. Scotland, New York, Wakanda. Footage of smoke rising in great plumes, painting the skyline with streaks of ash and chaos. Alien ships hover like vultures, dropping black-armored creatures into the streets below. And somewhere in that chaos was Bucky.

Or so you had hoped. Girlfriends weren’t high on the SHIELD update chain, and his location was confidential regardless. So, for 28 days, all you could do was watch the chaos unfold from the other side of the screen. On day twenty-nine, you woke up to find that half the world had vanished without a trace. You call Sam over and over, praying that he was okay, that Bucky was okay. 

No one answers, and for another three days you sit alone in your apartment swallowed whole by grief. Friends, family, the blonde barista at the coffee shop, and the man you barely got to love. 

A knock at the door pulls you from your stupor, eyes raw and cheeks red. And when the door swings open, your world tilts again. 

“Hey, doll.”

He says it so casually, like he’d just step out for an afternoon, not over a month. There’s a cascade of bruises on his face, a pristine bandage wrapped around his arm, but he’s there. Alive. Flesh and Bone.

You don’t think, you leap. Your arms tangle around his shoulders, squeezing until you’re shaking. He grunts softly in surprise, but his arms wrap around you tightly, steadying you like he always does.

You sob before you can even speak, your cries muffled against his chest. His metal hand runs gently along your back.

You hoped–assumed all would return to normal now. The life you were starting didn’t need to be on hold a second longer. The world would take time to heal, sure, but for now you could go back to late night slow dances and burnt Sunday pancakes. 

But then, you hear about Sam.

He didn’t make it.

Neither did countless others Bucky had dared to call family the last few years. You listen in stunned silence as Bucky tells you, the weight of the losses hanging heavy in the air between you. His voice cracks when he mentions Steve, though he doesn’t say much else. You don’t press—what more could you possibly ask?

For a while, both of you stay shadows of yourselves, and you imagined a great deal of others followed suit. Work didn’t go anywhere–being exponentially difficult if anything. Constant reporting of the aftermath, the testimonies. You don’t admit it and you don’t quit, but you start to hate it. You run out of words to describe what happened and no one can make up their minds for quite a while. The editor-in-chief gives you sympathetic nods for every late article, but you know you’re hanging on by a thread.

At night, Bucky holds you a little too tight, and you let him.

You catch him staring out the window in the early morning. Sharp lines draw on his face and you wonder if what you write is nearly half as bad as what he’s seen. It’s the only time you wonder what he’s done, what any of this has truly been like for him.

Truthfully, it’s hell. 

For weeks now he’d pulled countless mangled bodies from rubble, killed heartless scavengers who wouldn’t put the damn gun down, and watched the world he started to love again fall apart. And the rebuilding effort was estimated to take years. He didn’t have years of this in him. 

And who's to say Thanos was done? He had the stone, all the power in the universe to squander them at a moment's notice. Two of the strongest people he knew, gone with a single snap. 

“Why wasn’t it me?” he thinks, staring down an empty glass. 

The compound was eerily empty, with Stark still M.I.A and everyone else busy putting out fires at all corners of the globe. Pepper couldn’t stand the silence and left for her parents’ house in Boston. Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. He should be out there like everyone else–helping more, looking Tony, or supporting you. But it’s 2 am and he’s stuck, unable to face anyone and unable to cry. 

The fight would never be over. And he would never be able to keep anyone safe.

So he pulls away. Like night and day you go from two ghostly shadows, dancing in charred grief to nuclear reactions, ready to set the other off at a moment's notice. He can't cope and you can hardly move on, but you are moving. You push Bucky to do the same and it never ends well. It’s easier for you, and you know that. You’re constantly reminded of the devastation behind the thin veil of pictures and text. There is no separation for Bucky. Every cry, every hint of death and absence, floods his senses until it’s all his brain can compute.

The world is gone.

In a flash of anger, he throws the bottle against the refrigerator and takes pride in the shatter. F.R.I.D.A.Y is smart enough not to offer assistance. 

Peace was at his fingertips. He felt it. He missed it. Watching Steve and Sam argue about the most trivial topics. Listening to you ramble at 3 am about bad romance novels. Seeing actual joy in strangers on the street. Being in the world when it felt whole again.

Now, he can’t look at you without thinking of loss. The folly of love. Pain would always lurk on the horizon. He could try over and over to rebuild. It didn’t matter and it never would. The universe was a cruel bitch–and nowhere knew through him by the looks of it. Every night he goes to sleep with a heavy ache in his heart. A miasma that sits on his chest and stares at him through his dreams. In the morning, it follows him from place to place. Watching, waiting to swallow him whole.

When Bucky comes to you later that evening reeking of sorrow, you have a look that he can’t place. He thinks you can see it, the dread stalking him. The emptiness. He can’t take it and leaves as soon as he arrives. With each passing day, he pulls away more, and more and more. It’s better to lose you this way. 

It doesn’t stop you from calling and sometimes he answers. Some days he shows up and holds you like nothing ever happened. He loses his grief in the soft corners of your body, and you let him. It helps you too. You find yourself all the same, soaking in his weight against the mattress. It’s hopeful, the way he touches you. Delicate, precise–not in pleasure but in preservation. He breaks you apart until you’re left to just the finest parts. Thinking of nothing but him, wanting nothing but him. Hungry teeth mark the soft flesh at your pulse, the skin on your inner thigh. All to catalogue the noises you make, to feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He does this for his own memory, savouring as much of you as you can before you’re gone for good.  He knows it’s inevitable. 

It’s always been inevitable.

In the morning, it’s lost all over again when he disappears, leaving the scent of mulberry and whiskey behind. 

Carol finds Nebula and Tony in cold space. Battered, starving, and a moment away from slow death. Bucky had a dust of hope left that the genius had one more trick up his sleeve. A month passes while he recovers, then weeks. After a year Pepper and Tony find a quaint cabin up north to forget. Or maybe to start over? Bucky can’t tell and he gets too mad at his absence to care. Tony Stark got to stop being Iron Man and all James wishes for is to stop being Bucky.

The time between his late-night visits as the miasma greedily feeds. The loneliness and old memories stops either of you from saying what needs to be said. It’s harder and harder for him to face you. Each time Bucky leaves you craving what you had before, while still giving you hope it might come back.

He stops coming to the cafe altogether. Stopped calling. The man who once lit up your entire world now burned through whiskey like it was water, each sip drowning him a little further

The day you find out, it’s bittersweet, and you dared to hope again. You picture, even if just for a second, a bright future. Burnt pancakes with an extra plate, soft laughter from the dinner table as you and Bucky waltz around the kitchen–you picture it all in such a sharp flash. A reason for both of you to hope again. It’s vivid and near disorienting. You sit against the bathroom wall staring at the pink double lines. 

Out of instinct and burning joy, you called Bucky, heart racing and a smile creeping onto your face. 

It rings once. Twice. Three Times. And then voicemail. 

And then you remember who Bucky is, or rather who he’s becoming.

And your heart sinks.

For two days you cry and wait. That he’d call back, that this time he had a reason. That the universe wasn’t giving you an enormous final sign. 

Each day blurs into the next  and you’re forced to face the music. The future you pictured, it would never be reality. In reality, things continued to deteriorate. Just as Bucky realized anything could take you away from him, you realized he was already gone. Sure, he survived the snap, but he wasn’t living. He perished just the same. You were left with a man hollow from far more than just grief. And a man who could never be a father. That peaceful future could never exist because this world would never give you peace. 

Children weren’t a part of your life plan. You couldn’t do it on your own and you knew that. You weren’t sure you could do it under any circumstances. But you certainly couldn’t in this world. Not now. 

So you made a choice, alone. You called Bucky again before making the appointment, to no answer. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell a friend, sunken by anger and sadness you can’t. You go alone, drive home alone, and cry alone for two weeks. 

You start to think this time he’s never coming back. Your decision feels justified, righteous, and forty times worse. The bed sheets maintain a perfect shape for you to hide in. Not from Bucky. No, you wish he’d seek you out. At your absolute worst and wanting him the most. Even though you knew you should hate him, cast him aside in your mind. 

But you just can’t. Call it loneliness or stupidity–it didn’t matter. You keep a sliver of hope that he waltzes right back into your life, this time as himself, whole. Unbroken and ready to belt Frank Sinatra down the empty streets as he walks you home. You could loop his arms in his again and lean steady on his weight once more. 

Maybe you got desperate for it. While the weeks stretched into another month, and you had to keep living. People seemed to fill the gaps others left behind. Deadlines came back, along with birthdays, sports tournaments, and holidays. There was always an air of despair to everything, though. Tributes and memorials were constant, and the topic never truly left public discussion. It simply changed from a thing that was happening, to a thing that had happened. 

You met new people, a lot, in fact. A few even ask you out. Each time you turn them down, lying about you weren’t ready for dating yet or that work was too hectic. Truthfully, the thought of being with anyone else felt like an act of betrayal. Logically, after twenty seven days (because yes, you were counting) of missed calls and ignored texts, one might assume any romantic relationship did, or should come to end. But not you, not with Bucky. 

You didn’t want anyone else. But he wasn’t here. 

On day thirty four, a heavy knock wakes you around midnight. You’re half-asleep, shivering in your night-gown and wishing you wore something warmer to bed when you answer. 

Bucky slouches against the door frame, clothes wrinkled and eyes glinting. He looks at you for a second, just long enough for you to see the anguish stalking him, before he crosses into your apartment–taking your face between his palms and kissing you.

You don’t think, only react. You never do on these nights, the nights he bothers to remember you and you’re desperate enough to let him in. You react to the liquor-stained tongue dancing in your mouth, his hands finding your hips and pushing yours against the wall. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and when his hands paw at the silk of your nightgown, you untie it for him. 

You don’t think as tears flood the back of your eyes, just as desperate as you are for release. It’s love, anger, need, and grief in their most convoluted form–working together and fogging your mind. 

You don’t think when he lifts you around his waist, tongue still searching for peace behind your lips. It’s been long, too long for both of you. Too many nights and days spent praying he’d come back to you. He lays you down on your bed, trailing down your body and leaving you breathless. You can hardly see him in the dark room. A shadow, lighting your nerves on fire without a single word. 

Some shifts. Perhaps it comes from the way he pauses at your hip. Fleeting and haunting. Recoiling as if the bone will break skin to seek him out. Livid that he would dare to take more than he deserves.

You don't think, and misread his hesitation as a chance to take control. Flip the script. Leave him a wanting mess. You don’t want to give yourself any time in reality. You want to pretend this is one of your first times. Before the world bowed under its own weight. Before you Bucky became your curse.  And thinking is antithetical to whatever currently happens between you two in these four walls. 

Your hands graze the lines of his jaw in the dark, finding full hairs where your mind remembers itchy stubble. Too much time has passed. You don’t think, pulling him back towards you and capturing his lips, trying to mimic the hungry passion he showed you at the door. 

He doesn’t show you any return and you would think to stop, but you aren’t there yet. You try harder, until his arms braces your forearm. The cold metal grounds you and forces you to find his eyes in the shadows. 

“This is wrong, I shouldn’t be here.” he whispers, almost like he’s speaking to himself.  You hold his gaze briefly before it darts to the floor. 

Your heart sinks like a stone. Your ribcage wants to tighten around it. 

You tighten your nightgown instead. 

“Don’t,” you plead, but Bucky was already pulling away, fingers curling into fists at his sides. 

“I mean it.” he took another step back, and the stone reaches your stomach. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Can’t?” you shot up, more sharp and cutting than you thought. “What the hell does that mean, James? You can’t? After everything–” 

He knows you're using his birth name out of anger, but even then he relishes in the way it sounds on your tongue. 

He still doesn’t bear to look at you, shoulders slumping. “I shouldn’t have come here, I should’ve known better.”

The laugh that breaks out of you isn’t a laugh at all. It was something jagged and bitter. You leave your bed to face him, refusing to let him ignore the hurt he’s causing.

“You should’ve known better? Now what, you disappear again and call it noble this time?”

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you! I’m trying to protect you!” he snapped, loud enough to echo. 

“Protect me from what? From you?” you repeat, incredulous. The words taste sour. 

“Yes!” he burst out, voice high and raw. “You don’t need this–you don’t need me.”

Breaths can barely leave your throat. You think this is what people always meant when they said they were ‘seeing red’. You want to ask if he thinks you needed him after losing half of everyone you cared about, too. After eight hours a day writing about tragedies that somehow felt two feet in front of you despite happening thousands of miles away.

“I can’t believe I thought you could ever be a father–that we might have a family.” It’s an admission you mean to keep in your head, but it spills out in a tangled mess with your tears before you can realize what you’re saying. 

Bucky snaps his head up. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to argue. But the weight of your words seems to register. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence is suffocating. You feel the space between you both stretching, threatening to snap. He finally meets your eyes, and the vulnerability there almost breaks you again.

“What are you talking about?” He knows the answer to his own question. But he wants to be wrong. He prays to be wrong.

“I was pregnant and you couldn’t even pick up the phone.” you grit, trying not to yell, cry, or some combination of both. You fail, and your sparse tears turn into full streams. “I didn’t know what to do–I was alone.”

“When were you going to tell me?” His tone is low, in a confused attempt to process, but all you hear is blame. 

“I tried! For weeks! I couldn’t just wait on the sidelines for you to love me again, I couldn’t do this without you and you weren’t here!” 

“You don’t understand,” he mutters, his voice cracking under your anger. 

“Then help me understand!” you plead, stepping closer, your heart pounding against your ribs. “Help me understand why I had to make that choice alone.”

“I’ve lost everything,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything I’ve ever cared about. And I can’t—I won’t—put you in that same category.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening with both frustration and heartache. “So, what, you just decide to give up? Walk away and lose me anyway?” 

“That’s not what this is–I’m not giving up,” he insists, though there's a lack of conviction in his voice. 

“Bullshit, you’re just a coward–you’re giving up because it’s easy and staying here and making things work is harder.”

Bucky froze, his jaw tightening as your words settled between them like a storm cloud. His voice was low, measured, but laced with contempt.

“Don’t give me that crap, There’s nothing easy about letting you go.”

“You don’t get to talk to me about giving up, Bucky. Not when you’re the one walking away. Not again.”

“You think I’m just cutting myself off from everything, throwing my entire life away, throwing you away, leaving every last thing I know and care about behind, because I want the easy life?” He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. 

“It was never that easy for me to do this—with you, with anyone! It was so much easier for me to go on thinking there was something I could do to make a real difference, but I know now—” His voice cracked slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I know now there’s nothing I can do. The only path everything leads to is everything being ripped away from me.”

You shook your head, voice sharp. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“If I could do something to be at peace,” he continued, his voice still rising, “then I’d do it. I swear to you that I would. But it’s all just... waiting to slip through my fingers, leaving nothing behind.”

“That’s not true!” you snapped, your fists clenching. “You’re the one letting it all slip away, Bucky. Not fate, not some unstoppable force—you.”

“Bullshit!” His words were a snarl now, his hands clenched at his sides as though he didn’t know where else to put the anger. “What do you know? What the hell do you actually know about me, huh?”

Her lips parted, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “Nothing! I’ll tell you what kind of man I really am.” His voice softened, the anger bleeding into something more resigned. “I had nothing when I started, and I’ll have nothing when this nightmare finally ends. And I’m not wasting your life too.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” you shouted, stepping forward. “You don’t get to play martyr and act like I’m just collateral damage in whatever war you’re fighting with yourself. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

“You know I’m right,” he bit out, his voice suddenly colder, quieter. “You knew it when you decided to end it–and I don’t blame you.”

There isn’t any air left in the room.

“I’m an empty shell. There’s nothing inside me at all. I know there isn’t. Guess that’s obvious. Anybody could see that. Before Steve got me, before I met you...” Bucky laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to fix this. You want to start over.

“Do you have any idea what I did with my life? I hurt people, I terrorized people, that’s what. I’ve never done a single honorable thing.” He looked at you with glossy eyes.

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide that nothing good has ever come from you, just so you can justify giving up. You don’t get to rewrite everything, Bucky.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with frustration and hurt.

Your words hang in the air like laundry on a rainy day–pointless and unchanging in any purpose. The empty space dares him to say something back, but the more time passes, the less sure he seems. His mouth opens and closes, jaw tense and fighting against something inside.

“I can’t be what you need.”

It’s soft and final.

Before you can even process it, he turns sharply, heading out your bedroom and to the front door. Each thud of boots feels heavier, more deliberate. 

“James–” you try to call out, and the syllables die in your throat.

He pauses at the threshold, shoulders slump. 

“I can’t,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

And then, without another word, the door slams behind him with a force that rattles your bones.

You stand there in the dark, the silence swallowing you whole. The words you want to say, the things you wish you could take back, settle into the pit of your stomach like stones.

But he's gone, turning into a ghost once more. And for the first time in a long while, you know he won’t be coming back to haunt you. 

[ ♡ thx for reading ]

[veltana]

Realization - Mafia AU prequels - Stucky

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Stucky/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~1.6k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings/tags: smut, top!bucky, bottom!steve, hurt/comfort, unrequited love/crush, angst, lots of fluff and feels, blow job, anal sex. ✦ Summary: There is a strange sting in Steve's chest, it began burning when you skipped in the door, showing off the diamond on your finger. It feels unreal. Not that someone would want to marry you, because you’re lovely, but that you’re getting married to someone else. ✦ Note: This is a prequel to No one as sweet as you set while they were living together in college, which focuses on their growing relationship and how Bucky and Steve started to develop feelings for Sweets as more than just their best friend. You don't need to read No one as sweet as you to get this but I recommend it. (Also posted on AO3) Series masterlist

Main masterlist | AO3

Steve waves goodbye with a smile and closes the door softly behind you, then leans his head against it and lets out a breath. Bucky's hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing it. "She's happy," Bucky whispers, trying to hide the pain in his voice. Pushing away from the door, Steve nods but he can’t help but feel like half of his heart just left.

"She's engaged," Steve mumbles as he walks back to the living room and sits down on the couch, grabbing what’s left of the whiskey and downing it.

There is a strange sting in Steve's chest, it began burning when you skipped in the door, showing off the diamond on your finger. It feels unreal. Not that someone would want to marry you, because you’re lovely, but that you’re getting married to someone else.

Confused, he turns to Bucky and without a word the other man reaches for him, pulling him into a tight hug meant for comfort and support. They rarely say anything out loud, but all of Bucky’s love is in the hug.

Steve might not have realized it sooner but Bucky has known for years that there would only be two people for him and that is you and Steve, but he's kept it to himself, mainly because you've been in a long-term relationship since right after college and because Steve has always seemed happy for you.

Bucky is happy for you too, of course. He's happy when you're happy and tonight you glowed, proudly displaying the ring your boyfriend had placed on your finger two nights before. You beamed as you described the candles, petals, and wonderful words he'd told you.

The happiness and bottomless despair had mixed in Bucky's chest like a vortex, threatening to cause a scene where he would spew out all of his doubts and he didn't want that for you. He is your best friend and will support you through the whole marriage, just so he can stay by your side.

Steve's fingers grip Bucky's shirt. "Why am I not happy for her?" he questions loudly and Bucky can only say, "Because you love her," gently. "Of course I love her,” Steve pulls away, raking his fingers through his hair. “She's our best friend, she's like the most amazing person I know and she's getting married and I'm not happy…" he trails off, meeting Bucky's knowing eyes.

"Oh," Steve just says and Bucky nods, leaning back against the cushions. "How long have you…?" He doesn't say the words but Bucky knows what he means. "Remember when she dated Loki?" Steve nods and Bucky shrugs. "Right around that time.”

Steve feels like Bucky has grown two heads. He is so casual about the whole thing while it feels like Steve's insides are drowning in black tar. "How do you…?" "Bare it?" Bucky raises an eyebrow and when Steve nods he continues. "Well, I just tried to be there for her when she needed me. I didn’t want to push anything since she clearly said she wanted to stay away from relationships after Loki. And then you know, dad passed, and I started down this line of work together with you, and she met him," he shrugs again. "I would rather live with the pain than without the two of you in my life."

Steve's eyes search Bucky's for a moment. "You'll always have me," he states, making Bucky smile. "And every day I am grateful for that," he says in a low voice, gently grabbing Steve's chin and kissing him.

Steve loves kissing Bucky, it's like coming home to a warm fire after wading through cold mud. The kiss quickly turns heavy and Steve starts pulling on Bucky’s clothes. Withdrawing, Bucky strokes his cheek. “What do you need?” “I don’t know,” Steve confesses.

Bucky nods and moves his hand to the back of Steve’s head, fisting the hair and pulling his head back slightly. “You just do as I say, okay?” “Okay,” Steve answers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, eyes already calmer.

They don’t use titles like sir or master or anything like that, it’s never been their thing, but Bucky knows just what Steve needs at a time like this. And if it was the other way around, Steve would do the same for him.

“Good, who do you belong to Steve?” “You, Bucky,” he quickly answers. “And?” “Sweets,” his voice is pained. "Good Steve," Bucky praises and sees Steve’s shoulders relax more. “Now get on the floor and suck my dick.”

Steve goes and it feels so good to not have to make any decisions and just focus on Bucky. In the back of his head, he knows he’s going to have to deal with his feelings for you later, but right now he just wants any relief he can get.

He opens up Bucky’s pants and takes his cock out, not hesitating a second before swallowing him down. Bucky’s fingers tangles in Steve’s hair, moving his head up and down, his own tipped back against the couch, moaning. "Just like that. Your mouth feels so good, Steve. Fuck, you’re so good at this."

He hums in appreciation, taking Bucky as deep as he can, letting his tongue caress the length, focusing on giving him all the pleasure he can. Steve's own dick is painfully hard but he knows better than to do anything about it, and he knows Bucky will take care of him.

"I'm going to come down your throat," Bucky warns, giving him the option to stop, but he doesn't. A few deep swallows later and Bucky is shooting down his throat, a groan of Steve's name leaving his mouth in the process.

Steve pulls off and swallows dutifully. Bucky's hand strokes the side of his face. "Clothes off," he demands quietly and in moments Steve is naked, kneeling on the floor. Bucky stands up, slowly losing his clothing, revealing the body Steve has seen hundreds of times but never gets tired of looking at.

It's hard to keep himself going slow. Steve looks so pretty and helpless on the floor in front of him, Bucky wants to push him down and fuck him hard and fast. But he knows he needs to drag this out for Steve's sake, let him out of his head as long as Bucky can manage.

That's why he holds Steve's gaze as he undresses, keeping him right in the moment. He sits back down when he's done, his cock not yet hard again, but he knows how to remedy that.

"Get the lube and get up here," he commands and Steve scrambles, still on his knees to get the lube hidden in a drawer in the coffee table, before crawling onto the couch and straddling Bucky.

Steve's not a small man and Bucky has to crane his neck to look up at him. He takes the lube in one hand, coating his fingers generously before reaching back behind Steve. "Ah, Buck!" Steve's voice is honey and Bucky can't help but smile as he slowly starts to work Steve open.

"Hold onto me," he instructs and Steve's hands grasp his shoulders. Bucky's other hand goes to Steve's cock, lazily stroking it.

"So good for me. Always so good," he murmurs as Steve takes another finger. Trembles start going through his body and Bucky lets his cock go, knowing that keeping Steve on edge will only help him. The grip Steve has is bruising, his mouth hanging open, and small pants fall continuously from his lips. It makes Bucky smile, knowing he is making him feel better. Feel good even.

"Buck," Steve pleads in a whisper, eyes tightly closed. "I don't know if you're ready Stevie," Bucky teases and works the third finger in. With a growl, Steve grabs the lube and reaches down to Bucky's cock, which is hard once again. As soon as Steve's slick fist grabs him he moans loudly.

"Yes, fuck, you’re ready. Only teasing, dammit," Bucky groans and withdraws his fingers, wiping them on a blanket nearby. Before he is done Steve has positioned himself and starts sinking down.

Their moans fill the room quickly. It's a pleasure to watch Steve's muscled body move, in any way, but especially like this. The sweat is making him shine, looking like a god.

"You're taking me so well. So perfect. Fuck you're beautiful," Bucky tells him and grabs his cock. He needs Steve to finish first and his own orgasm is approaching too quickly. "Gonna need you to come for me Steve," he says. "Paint us with your cum and let me fill you up."

Steve lets Bucky's voice carry him, doing as he's told and angling his hips, getting the thick cock just right. "That's it," Bucky praises. Steve tips his head back as the feeling climbs until he finally reaches the peak. Bucky is seconds behind him.

The only downside to Steve being just as tall and broad as Bucky is that Bucky can’t pick him up and carry him. Instead, he settles on pulling Steve into him, holding him tightly, and kissing the skin where he can reach. Steve’s hammering heart and panting breath slow after a while and he sags into Bucky.

"I am so fucking stupid," he murmurs. The reprieve Bucky created for him is over and now it’s all coming back quickly. "How did I not understand this earlier?" "Feelings are complicated, Steve. But we’re going to get through this, I promise.” “I love you, Bucky.” It’s not something they tell each other often, but it feels important to say it now, more than ever. “I love you, Steve. And Sweets do too.”

prev

[teddiee]

Nothing But Gravity: Chapter 2

Summary:

“That why you’re out here too?” Tony asked finally, his voice still small, but there was something steadier about it now. “The stars and peace?”

Bucky huffed out a soft laugh, low and warm. “Something like that,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the skyline. “Me and Stevie, we’ve got a reputation for bein’ real classy guys. Spend our Friday nights out here contemplating life’s mysteries.”

Steve made a scoffing noise behind him, finally breaking his silence. “We got bored of the party,” he clarified, deadpan, but Bucky could hear the smile in his voice.

Tony’s mouth twitched again, but this time Bucky caught it—just the faintest upward curve, like a secret he hadn’t meant to share.

Words: 4,688

Bucky sat up fully, the haze of the evening burning away as instinct kicked in.

The guy—no, the kid—looked stricken. 

Bucky swore he could see his heart hammering beneath his ribs, the pulse in his neck a frantic flutter. He looked ready to bolt, but his body wouldn’t cooperate; instead, he flattened himself further against the door, his chest stuttering with rapid breaths, gulping at the cool night air as though he was drowning.

He was pretty.

That was the first thing Bucky’s caveman hindbrain noticed once the sharp edge of the moment dulled—pretty in the kind of way that didn’t shout for attention but stole it anyway, like sunlight catching on glass.

Carved out of softer stuff than the rest of the world: a jaw that tapered to a gentle point, fine-boned and delicate where others had blunt lines. A dusky flush climbed high on his cheeks, so stark against the pale, almost porcelain sweep of his skin that Bucky could practically feel it on his own skin like a burn. His hair—dark and unruly—clung to his temples with sweat, curls disheveled as though someone had spent hours running their fingers through it.

Jesus, his mouth—soft and pink, a little swollen, like he’d been gnawing at it nervously. 

Bucky’s eyes lingered there far too long, caught on the shape of it, the subtle sheen that told him the kid had been worrying at his lips, his nerves written there in every faint bite-mark. 

Something heady pooled low in Bucky’s stomach, something he wasn’t sure he had the right to feel—an instinct, primal and unshakable, to smooth those bitten edges with his thumb, to tell the kid he didn’t need to be nervous anymore.

His gaze flicked back up quickly, but not quickly enough. The image was already seared into him, like the aftermath of staring at the sun.

Still, it was the eyes that caught him most. Too wide, too bright, like glass blown thin. They were dark and enormous, even in the dim light, framed by lashes that would’ve made a girl jealous.

The kid didn’t move. Couldn’t. His chest rose and fell in a disjointed staccato rhythm, fists clutching at the fabric of his sweater like he could hold himself together with sheer force. His knees were drawn up tight, braced awkwardly, and his whole body shook faintly, as though he might shatter into pieces if the wind blew too hard.

Bucky glanced at Steve, wordlessly communicating in that way best friends do, and pushed himself to his feet. 

Steve stayed where he was, still sprawled on the rooftop like he was trying not to spook a cornered animal.

Bucky approached carefully, his steps deliberate and slow. He raised his hands, palms out in the universal sign for easy, I’m not going to hurt you.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, his voice low and even. “You good, pal?”

The kid didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. His breath hitched audibly.

“Okay,” Bucky murmured, crouching down a few feet away. He didn’t dare get too close—didn’t want to crowd him—but he couldn’t bring himself to leave, either. Not when he looked like that. Like he was seconds away from disappearing entirely. “You don’t gotta talk if you don’t want to, but you’re breathin’ too fast. That’s no good, alright?”

Still nothing.

Bucky let his gaze drift over him again, trying to gauge what exactly had driven him out here in the first place. Panic attack. Had to be. The signs were all there. Shit.

“Look,” Bucky tried again, softer this time. His Brooklyn drawl had a habit of turning gentle when he needed it to. “I don’t know what happened in there, but you’re safe now. It’s just me and Stevie—that’s Stevie, by the way—and we’re sittin’ out here star gazing like a couple of chumps. That’s it. No one’s gonna bother you up here, alright?”

The kid’s eyes flickered to Steve—still sitting quietly behind Bucky, hands folded across his chest like he wasn’t trying to breathe too loudly—and then back to him. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You just gotta try and slow that breathing down,” Bucky coaxed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to speak softly to some stranger on a rooftop. “Can you do that for me? In through the nose, out through the mouth. Like this.” He inhaled slowly, deep into his chest, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling through pursed lips. The sound was deliberate, exaggerated just enough for the kid to hear it.

For a moment, nothing happened. Bucky held his breath. 

And then—finally—the kid mimicked him, or tried to, the sharp rhythm of his lungs stuttering as he forced the air through his nose.

“That’s it,” Bucky encouraged, his voice steady. “Just like that. You’re doin’ good, kid.”

It took a while, each breath a fight, but the shaking in the kid’s hands finally dulled to a faint tremor. His chest rose and fell more evenly, like his lungs had finally remembered their purpose. The silence stretched again, this time softer, easier to bear.

Bucky let out a quiet sigh of relief, settling himself cross-legged on the rooftop, still a safe distance away.

“Better?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

The kid didn’t speak, but his gaze dropped to his lap. He nodded. Barely.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked gently, his voice lighter now, like the wind rustling through leaves. “Or should I just call you ‘Trouble?’”

For a second, Bucky thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, quiet as a whisper carried on the wind, the kid said, “Tony.”

Tony. The name rolled through Bucky’s mind, settling there like a stone dropped in water, ripples spreading outward. It suited him somehow.

“Well, Tony,” Bucky said, smiling just enough to let him see it, “next time you bolt outta some party for air, let a guy know. You shouldn’t be out here all by yourself. It’s a long way down, and trust me—you don’t wanna test gravity’s patience.”

Something flickered across Tony’s face then. Not quite a smile, but close enough that Bucky felt it warm the air between them, like a match sparking to life in the dark.

Bucky’s gaze roamed over Tony again, sharper this time, the little details tugging at his attention like threads he couldn’t leave loose. 

At first glance, he could pass for any other college student: small-framed, maybe a little underfed, drowning in a too-big sweatshirt that slipped down one shoulder like it didn’t quite belong to him. But Bucky noticed the way Tony held himself—compact, almost delicate—like he was used to taking up as little space as possible.

And then there was the mark.

It was subtle, but it was there if you knew what to look for. Just behind Tony’s ear, along the curve of his neck where the skin was softest, a small, silvery shape was pressed into him—like a scar but smoother, more deliberate. In the low rooftop light, it almost looked like a thumbprint, faint but undeniable.

An omega marking.

Bucky felt something click into place, then. 

Centuries ago, perhaps even longer, secondary gender designation could be communicated through scent. Not anymore.  

Years of evolution had altered this; there were no longer scents or primal instincts to provide clues. Instead, designations were marked onto the skin when you were a baby, barely a week old. Official, clinical. 

For alphas like Bucky and Steve, it was stamped on their wrists; betas bore theirs on their ankles. Omegas…

Omegas were marked somewhere tender. Somewhere easy to hide. Behind an ear. Along the curve of a neck. A quiet brand.

And Tony’s was visible. Barely.

Bucky blinked, heat pooling behind his ribs as something protective curled inside him, low and instinctive. Innate. Like he suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of Tony being out here alone, winded and flushed, marked for anyone to see who might come looking for trouble. He’d heard enough stories about the wrong kind of people looking too closely for those marks.

Tony caught Bucky’s stare then, his dark eyes narrowing faintly like he could feel the shift in Bucky’s focus. Self-conscious, he tugged the collar of his sweatshirt higher, a practiced movement that only confirmed what Bucky already knew.

His stomach tightened.

Omegas weren’t fragile, not really, but the world sure treated them that way. They were rare enough that people talked about them like they were rumors, and the ones who were around? People tended to look a little too closely.

And here was Tony—flushed, trembling, trying to shove his too-big sleeves over his hands, as if to make himself smaller still.

Bucky’s gaze softened.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge it. Hell, he wouldn’t dare—not with Tony looking at him like that, wary and uncertain. Instead, he leaned back on his palms, casual and easy, letting the tension drain from his frame like he hadn’t noticed a thing.

Bucky let the silence linger, easy and unhurried, like the night itself. He could feel Tony next to him, still fidgeting, still picking at the frayed edges of his sleeves. 

For someone who’d looked like a skittish rabbit just a minute ago, it was remarkable how quickly he was starting to settle—though Bucky made sure not to look directly at him for too long. Cornered animals tended to spook, and he wasn’t looking to send Tony darting back down the stairs.

It wasn’t until Tony let out a breath, something like a sigh of resignation, that Bucky glanced over again. Tony’s gaze was fixed on the city beyond the roof’s edge, lights blinking lazily in the distance.

Up close, he was even prettier. His hair was dark, messy like he’d dragged a hand through it a dozen times. His sweatshirt had holes in the sleeves where his thumbs poked through, fidgeting like he couldn’t sit still. His lips—Bucky tried not to look at those too hard.

Jesus.

“Big party down there, huh?” Bucky asked, deliberately casual, letting the wind carry the quiet between them. “You run out of bad decisions to make?”

That earned him a faint glare, though the corner of Tony’s mouth twitched, like he was fighting it. “I just needed air.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky shrugged. “Don’t blame you. Too much noise, too many people. Makes it hard to think.”

Behind him, he can practically hear Steve’s eye roll.

Tony didn’t say anything, but he shifted just a little closer, like the tension in his shoulders was finally starting to ease.

Bucky smiled to himself, soft and easy.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt anyone up here,” Tony muttered. His voice was quiet. Wobbly. “Just needed… somewhere to go.”

Somewhere to go.

Bucky’s brows pulled together, just faintly. He didn’t miss the way Tony said it—like he was choosing his words carefully, like there was more buried underneath. But Bucky wasn’t the kind of guy to pry, not unless someone wanted him to.

“Seems like you made a solid call,” Bucky replied, just as quietly. He leaned back on his elbows again, head tilted toward the sky. “Nothing but stars and peace up here.”

Tony glanced at him then, a quick dart of his eyes, like he wasn’t sure what to make of Bucky’s easy demeanor. Bucky didn’t look back, didn’t push—just let the moment stretch, still and open, like he’d all the time in the world to sit on this godforsaken roof with a stranger who didn’t know where else to go.

The wind tugged at the edges of Tony’s sweatshirt, ruffling his curls, and for the first time, his breathing started to sound normal—slow, steady. Like maybe he’d stopped holding himself together with fraying string.

“That why you’re out here too?” Tony asked finally, his voice still small, but there was something steadier about it now. “The stars and peace?”

Bucky huffed out a soft laugh, low and warm. “Something like that,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the skyline. “Me and Stevie, we’ve got a reputation for bein’ real classy guys. Spend our Friday nights out here contemplating life’s mysteries.”

Steve made a scoffing noise behind him, finally breaking his silence. “We got bored of the party,” he clarified, deadpan, but Bucky could hear the smile in his voice.

Tony’s mouth twitched again, but this time Bucky caught it—just the faintest upward curve, like a secret he hadn’t meant to share.

It suited him, Bucky thought, surprised by how easily it struck him. Tony didn’t seem like someone who smiled often, but when he did, it looked like it belonged there, softening the sharp lines of his wariness. Like he’d spent so much time guarding himself that even a half-smile could slip through the cracks.

“You guys live in that house?” Tony asked after a beat, tipping his chin vaguely toward the roof they sat on.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky said, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s the Phi Nu house. Bunch of baseball kids, technically, but we don’t play much by the rules. It’s kinda a dump, but it’s home.”

Tony didn’t say anything to that, but something about his expression shifted—a flicker of something wistful, almost envious, before it vanished. Bucky wondered what that meant, but again, he didn’t ask.

Instead, he picked at a loose thread on his jeans and said, “So, Tony. You a student here too, or you just crash random parties for fun?”

That earned him a look—half annoyance, half amusement—and for some reason, it made Bucky grin. He hadn’t seen that fire from Tony yet, not until now, and it suited him just as much as the softness did.

“I’m a student,” Tony muttered, clearly reluctant to admit it. “Mechanical engineering.”

Bucky blinked, brows raising in surprise. “Engineering, huh? You must be sharp.”

Tony shrugged, trying to downplay it, but Bucky caught the flicker of pride there, small and buried. “I’m alright.”

“You’re underselling yourself,” Bucky said, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “I know a couple engineers—not at this house; everyone who lives here is an idiot. But they’re all geniuses. Half of what they say goes right over my head.”

Tony glanced at him, a little wary again, like he wasn’t sure whether Bucky was making fun of him or not. Bucky held his gaze, steady and easy, until Tony looked away with a muttered, “It’s not that impressive.”

“Seems impressive to me,” Bucky said lightly. He didn’t push it any further, but something settled low in his chest again—something protective, fierce and quiet. 

He didn’t know much about Tony, but he had always been a perceptive guy. Besides, what he could pick up on through his body language alone was enough to piece together the edges of something—something tense and fragile, like a wire stretched too tight, ready to snap.

And Bucky didn’t know why, but he found himself wanting to see more of it. Wanting to know what else was tucked away behind that guarded expression, behind the bitten lips and the too-wide eyes and the mark that he still pretended not to notice.

He looked at Tony again, taking in the way he still fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling them over his thumbs like armor. He looked like he was used to being overlooked—like maybe he wanted it that way. But Bucky saw him, clear as anything, and he had the sudden, unsettling thought that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

“Well,” Bucky said after a while, breaking the quiet, “if you ever wanna hide out again, this roof’s pretty good for it. We’ll even let you join our deep, philosophical conversations.”

“Philosophical,” Tony echoed, flat, but the corners of his mouth twitched again.

“Sure. You ever wonder how many stars are up there?” Bucky asked, tipping his chin toward the sky. “Steve’s convinced there’s infinity, but I’m thinkin’ it’s just a really big number we haven’t counted yet.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve muttered behind him.

Bucky grinned. “See? High-brow stuff.”

This time, Tony didn’t fight the smile. It was small, quick, but Bucky saw it. And for some reason, it felt like a win.

Bucky let the moment linger, content to soak up the easy quiet that had finally settled between them. The tension that had clung to Tony earlier—jagged and restless—seemed to have smoothed out, replaced by something tentative but calmer. He wasn’t curled in on himself anymore. His breathing was steady. His shoulders weren’t pulled up tight to his ears.

Progress.

Bucky leaned back on his palms again, glancing briefly at Steve, who was still lounging a few feet away like he hadn’t just been witness to the weirdest, most unexpectedly delicate interaction of Bucky’s life. 

Steve’s brow lifted slightly, like he was already filing this moment away to give Bucky shit about later. Bucky ignored him.

Instead, his gaze flicked back to Tony.

The kid—man, really, though “kid” still clung to him in the way he carried himself—had his eyes fixed on the skyline again, the faint glow of the city reflected in his dark irises. From the side, his expression looked softer. Contemplative. Bucky found himself watching him a little too closely, cataloging every little detail like he might need to remember it later: the way his curls shifted in the breeze, the way his bitten lip was finally, finally left alone, the way the oversized sleeves swallowed up his hands completely.

God, he was beautiful.

The thought slipped in before Bucky could stop it, low and stubborn, settling somewhere behind his ribs like it had every right to be there.

And maybe it wasn’t the kind of thing he should be thinking about a guy he’d just met—certainly not a nervous, skittish omega who’d spent the last ten minutes trying not to completely unravel—but there it was, plain as day.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck to pull himself together. “You know, I haven’t even introduced myself yet. Name’s Bucky.”

Tony’s reaction was immediate. His head shot up, eyes going wide, the word tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“I know who you are.”

The second the words left him, Tony froze. His face went crimson so fast Bucky thought for a second he might spontaneously combust right there on the roof. He clamped his mouth shut like he could physically shove the admission back inside.

Bucky blinked, caught somewhere between surprise and outright delight. “Yeah?” he said, grinning slow and easy, like Tony’s embarrassment didn’t make his stomach flip in the best way. “You know me, huh?”

Tony made a strangled noise—somewhere between a groan and a squeak—and buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God,” he muttered through his fingers. “Forget I said that. I—just—forget it.”

But Bucky wasn’t about to let that go. Not when Tony was looking at him like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, his cheeks blazing with color.

“What, am I famous or somethin’?” Bucky teased, his grin widening. He leaned forward a little, elbows resting on his knees. “You been askin’ about me, Trouble?”

That earned him a glare over Tony’s fingertips—sharp enough to make Bucky laugh out loud, the sound warm and genuine against the night air.

“No,” Tony shot back defensively, though his face was still on fire. “You’re just—you’re friends with Steve, okay? Everyone knows who you are.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, still grinning like a cat who’d found something shiny to play with. “You keepin’ tabs on Steve, too, or just me?”

Tony groaned again, dragging his hands down his face before turning away to glare out at the city, like maybe if he ignored Bucky hard enough, he’d disappear.

Bucky just watched him, still grinning, something soft curling behind his ribs.

Out of nowhere, Steve’s voice cut in dryly. “You’re starin’, Buck.”

Bucky’s head snapped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Steve grinned, slow and knowing, clearly enjoying himself far too much. 

Deliberately breaking up the tension.

“Am not,” Bucky muttered under his breath, scowling.

“You are.” Steve didn’t even pretend to keep his voice down, and Tony’s eyes darted over at them, brow furrowing in confusion.

Bucky shot Steve a look that promised retribution, then forced an easy grin back onto his face as he turned to Tony. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, tone deliberately casual. “He’s just jealous he doesn’t look as good with bedhead as you do.”

Tony blinked, caught somewhere between startled and skeptical, and his cheeks went faintly pink again—just a dusting of color, like a sunrise peeking through clouds. He ducked his head, muttering something under his breath that Bucky couldn’t quite catch.

Steve snorted from his spot, and Bucky refused to look at him.

“Well,” Tony said after a beat, voice quiet but steady, “thanks for the… hospitality, I guess.” He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling just a little like his legs still weren’t quite convinced they were done shaking. “I should head back.”

Bucky stood, too, almost without thinking, like his body didn’t like the idea of Tony leaving just yet. He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he looked down at him. “You sure you’re alright?”

Tony nodded, though his gaze darted away again, fixed on the distant glow of the stairwell door. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I just… needed a minute. I’m good now.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. “Alright. Just—hey, don’t go disappearing off any roofs anytime soon, yeah? Not a great habit.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up again, fleeting and quiet. “Noted.”

He turned for the stairs then, moving like he didn’t want to give himself time to think about it. Bucky stayed where he was, watching him go with that same inexplicable weight settling in his chest.

Steve finally stood, stretching his arms over his head as he watched Tony’s retreating form disappear back into the house.

“Fuck, he’s cute,” Bucky said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out in a low, distracted murmur.

“Cute?” Steve echoed, dubious.

Bucky shrugged again, eyes still fixed on the stairwell door, playing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah. Cute. You got a problem with that?”

Steve blinked at him, trying to process what he’d just heard. “Since when is that your type?”

Bucky looked over at him then, brow raised in faint challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve made a vague gesture with his free hand. “I don’t know, Buck, you’ve always been into… I dunno, the bold types. Girls who look like they’d chew you up and spit you out. Guys who’d fight you for fun.”

Bucky chuckled at that, low and quiet, but there was something thoughtful behind his grin. “I’ve got range, Steve. You act like I’m one-note.”

“You are one-note,” Steve deadpanned.

“Fuck off. I’m not trying to marry the guy. Just making an observation, is all.”

“Pretty sure you’re just gunning for phone number four of the night.”

“Now wouldn’t that be something?”

—

Bucky did not land phone number four of the night. He didn’t even see Tony for the rest of the party (not that he was making a point to look, or anything).

Instead, he and Steve polished off the bottle of expensive whiskey and lumbered back into the house, immediately getting roped into a vigorous game of flip-cup.

Bucky won, obviously.

A week later, Bucky was walking across campus, headphones in, mind wandering. Finals were looming, and though he had his fair share of studying to do, Bucky didn’t feel the usual stress. He was more focused on the quiet rhythm of campus life, the way people moved around him, the hum of voices and footsteps. It all felt a little too far away, like there was something in the air that made it hard for him to fully settle into the world around him.

He was on his way to the library when he spotted him.

Tony.

Bucky wasn’t looking for him—not on purpose, anyway—but as Tony passed by, looking down at his phone, Bucky’s eyes locked onto him without thinking. His hair was still a mess, like it had been the night of the party, but there was something different about him in the daylight. He wasn’t wrapped in the heat of the moment anymore, wasn’t on a roof in the middle of some intense quiet. Just Tony-the-Student, out in the world, moving through it like he had a place here.

That same weight from the party settled into Bucky’s chest again. He hadn’t really expected to see him, or even think about him after that night. But now, seeing him in the light of day, it felt like an opportunity.

He adjusted the strap on his backpack and, without overthinking it, called out. “Hey, Trouble!”

Tony’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for the source of the voice. When they landed on Bucky, there was a moment of recognition, but no immediate warmth. Tony’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second, then softened into something more neutral, guarded.

“Uh, Bucky, right?” Tony asked, his voice quieter than Bucky had expected. His gaze flicked around, clearly uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how to act in front of other people.

Bucky nodded, stepping a little closer, trying to keep the conversation casual. “Yeah, that’s me. We… talked the other night.” His voice was easy, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were.

Tony nodded slowly, his lips pressed together, not quite smiling. “Right,” he said, eyes drifting away, avoiding direct eye contact. “The roof.”

There was a brief silence between them, a stretch of quiet that Bucky didn’t know how to fill. Tony looked down again, tapping his fingers on the strap of his backpack like he was deciding whether to keep walking or just stand there.

“So, uh. What’s up?”

Bucky couldn’t help it; he grinned. He could see the way Tony was trying to compartmentalize their last interaction, like he was wondering if Bucky was still that guy from the party or if this was something else. But Bucky wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t trying to make it weird. 

“Nothing much, just thought I’d say hi. See if you were doing alright.”

Tony shrugged, a tight, controlled movement. “Yeah, just—busy. You know, finals stuff,” he added, his voice distant, like he wasn’t really invested in the conversation. His eyes flicked over to a nearby bench, like he was trying to find a way out of this moment.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should let the tension hang there or push for more. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Tony was holding something back—something important—and that this wasn’t the same guy he’d shared a quiet moment with the other night.

“So, you wanna grab a coffee?” Bucky asked, a little more casually than he meant. “Get away from all the—” He motioned to the crowd, “—this for a minute?”

Tony hesitated. The shift in his posture was subtle but telling. He didn’t quite pull away, but he didn’t exactly seem eager either, his brow furrowing like he wasn’t sure why Bucky was still talking to him.

“You want to get coffee… with me?” Tony asked, his voice laced with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe Bucky was taking the time to speak to him in front of people.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it light. “Yeah, is that so hard to believe?” he asked, keeping his voice steady, though he couldn't help but be a little thrown by Tony's hesitation.

There was a long pause. Tony’s eyes flicked around again, like he was weighing something in his mind. Then, with a sharp exhale, he shrugged. “Yeah, okay,” he said, like a whisper.

And Bucky couldn’t help but grin, close-mouthed and crooked.

[sashaisready]

Chapter Seventeen - We’re going on a little ride

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 18

Series Masterlist

You saw the engine start up to leave and you broke into a sprint as you shot across the street before they could pull away (but made sure to check for traffic this time).

You whipped yourself in front of it, banging on the hood and yelling at the tinted windshield.

“Hey!! Hey! Come out right NOW” you practically screamed. “Get your chicken shit asses out here and talk to me”.

You knew you shouldn’t speak to the terrifying mob goons like that but any worries you had were drowned by your anger, and fear for Peter’s safety. Besides, you knew most of them by now.

The door zipped open and you were surprised to see Bucky of all people step out, flanked by Steve.

He watched you carefully as he emerged. He was in one of his suits but the jacket was gone, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His vibranium arm glinted under the light of the street lamp.

“Don’t hit the car like that, Doll. The paintwork is very delicate”.

“Doing your own dirty work for a change, huh?” you spat.

Bucky chuckled as he stepped towards you. “You have a good night, Doll?” he asked, condescension dripping from him.

“Don’t fucking touch him” you spat as you pointed a warning finger at him and then to Steve. “He’s a good man. Don’t drag him into this”.

Bucky shrugged casually, shaking his head as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“We wouldn’t hurt Mr. Quill, would we Steve?” Bucky said dubiously.

“Of course. Not our good friend, Peter” Steve replied in a monotone.

Your stomach lurched. Of course they had his full name. They probably already had his driving license and tax records on file.

“Bucky, please…” you pleaded.

He watched you attentively as you took a step towards him.

“We both just agreed to be just friends as neither of us felt a connection. Don’t hurt him. There’s nothing there” you explained calmly, trying to sound tougher than you felt.

Bucky smiled thinly. “I’m not a monster, Doll. I don’t just go around hurting people, despite what you may think. But I have to say, this is quite an impassioned defence of someone you’re ‘just friends’ with” he said sardonically, using finger quotes for your words.

Your panic gives way to anger again, his smug smirk a catalyst for your rage. The wine in your bloodstream certainly not helping your rational brain or negotiation skills in the moment.

“Well he is just my friend, alright? Not that I need to justify myself to you of all people...I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. I don’t know what sort of fucked up show you’re running here. I certainly can’t seem to get away from it, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and let innocent people get caught up in it too” you shout, practically spitting with rage.

Bucky sighs. “Doll…”

You raise a hand to silence him.

“No. You wanted to talk? Let’s talk. Steve, you can listen too if you want as James can’t seem to go ten feet without his guard dog. The fact is, I have no idea what your game is. I liked you a lot. Alright? I used to enjoy our little back and forth. Whatever it was. It was fun. And then we fucked and you treated me like a leper, cancelling our date and parading ANOTHER WOMAN in front of me days later at my own fucking workplace. Laughing at me. Watching me get upset and revelling in it. And then you send me eight million balloons and have your goons follow me. And I nearly get hit by a car trying to chase them off. And I meet a new guy. A nice guy who actually liked me who doesn’t treat me like a toy, or a cat playing with a mouse. And I can’t even enjoy that because I’m followed everywhere I go. And I tell you to leave me alone but you ignore me, just dig up information on my date and wait for me outside my house and have the gall to smirk at me like I’m crazy…”

You find yourself short of breath, the venom of your monologue catching you off guard. Your blood turns to ice as the reality of what you’ve said hits you, nervous he’ll lose it at you.

Bucky just stares back at you, unreadable as always. You briefly wonder if you’ve finally pushed him too far and you’re going to end up buried in the cement under a new apartment complex. Your stare snaps to Steve who also just returns your gaze, equally impenetrable. Bucky’s eyes briefly betray a slither of hurt too, and even though everything you’ve said is justified you can’t help but almost feel a pang of longing for him.

Bucky looks you up and down, your words ringing in his ears as guilt begins to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry” he says forlornly.

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Neither of you saw that coming.

“I know I treated you badly after our night together, Doll. It was stupid. I lost my head a bit, thinking you weren’t into me. So I played a game, I thought it was going to be an extension of our banter and I misjudged it. And then I was too stubborn to apologise”.

He sounds quiet and subdued, a far cry from his usual self.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. “Oh…well. Thank-you. I appreciate that” you reply softly.

He approaches you and his hand glides into your hair, his fingers stroking the side of your head as he gazes at you. You find yourself letting him touch you, moving closer to him, entranced by his sea blue eyes as he continues.

“I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I genuinely didn’t mean to. I feel crazy around you, if I’m honest. Like I can’t keep my shit together. And it just feels like every time I try and fix it I just make it worse”.

You soften as you stroke his metal hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Your faces are so close together that you can make out every mole and freckle on his cheek.

“All you had to do was say that” you tell him softly.

Steve takes that cue to disappear back into the car, giving you both some privacy.

Bucky smiles, his flesh hand moving to your chin and caressing it softly.

“I think about our night all the time” he admits.

“Me too...” you admit, your eyes glazed with lust.

“I know I’ve got a lot of making up to do” he tells you, and you smile back at him.

“You really do” you smirk.

His lips crash into yours and you’re momentarily breathless as you allow yourself to be lost in the kiss. Every sensation from the last time comes flooding back as his tongue slips into your mouth and your fingers find their way into his hair. It’s so good. It’s perfect. It’s everything you want.

He pulls away briefly and rests his forehead against yours.

“Quill will be fine” he whispers. “He’s just going to get roughed up a tiny bit. Just to send a message. But he’ll be alright” he says soothingly.

You gasp, unable to comprehend his casual tone with the horror of what he's saying as you place your hands on his chest and shove him firmly away from you.

“What? Why?? He didn’t do anything!” You splutter furiously.

“I just need to be sure he understands that you’re just ‘friends’” he replies calmly. “And that my men see that he’s been dealt with. They know who you are to me. They can’t work for me with respect knowing I let another man take you out”.

You scoff, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of what he’s telling you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you practically scream at him. “I’m not like your fucking car that he scratched. We aren’t even together” you sneer, waving your fingers between the two of you.

Bucky shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Messages need to be sent” he said coolly as his hands moved down to your hips. “Like I said, we’ll go easy on him, you don’t have to worry”.

You gasp in horror as you shake yourself away from his grip. Suddenly all of your rage and upset comes flooding back, the kiss long forgotten.

Every instinct tells you to flee. To get the hell out of there, away from this monster - away from the man who talks about beating people so casually that you’d think he was reciting a lunch order.

But you think of Peter. And he’s the most important person to think about right now so you can’t run. You couldn’t live with yourself if he got hurt. You need to make sure he’s safe. And to do that you need to speak Bucky’s language.

“Listen” you tell him firmly, your eyes blazing. “If anything happens to Peter. Anything at all. I will never speak to or acknowledge you again. And I mean that. I will quit the bakery and move my ass to a different state just to get away from you. You understand me?” you warn him. "Maybe even leave the east coast altogether".

He blinks at you, surprised by your outburst. You take his silence as your cue to continue.

“And I will spend the rest of my days trying to bringing your down. Police. Feds. Anyone. I mean it. I’ll just keep going until I find someone not in your pocket. You hear me?”

Your mouth is dry and you’re trembling but you’ve said it now. You just hope it’s enough, that it sticks.

After a beat of silence which seems to stretch on forever, he replies.

“You done?” Bucky questions, deadpan.

“Almost. Keep the fuck away from me, you fuckin’ sociopath” you snarl.

Bucky laughs. “Always the fiery one, aren’t you Doll? Alright. I won’t touch Quill. I promise. Scout’s honour. And I’ll leave you alone like you want. That’s no problem”.

You nod, surprised he acquiesced and expecting more of a fight.

He takes a step towards you and suddenly his eyes seem darker. You step away from him instinctively.

“But Doll, trust me when I say this…” he says with a quiet intensity which chills you. “If I ever hear that you’re going to the police about me...or the feds...I won’t be half as agreeable as I am right now”.

He cups your chin and squeezes your cheeks together in his metal hand as you feel your legs nearly give way from under you. His grip isn’t hard, but you feel the impact of his threat. He places a small kiss on your lips before releasing you and heading back to the car.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work, Doll” he grins darkly.

The door slams and the car pulls away a second later. You’re left standing alone in the road, distant noises of the city gradually filling your ears as you catch your breath. You briefly fall to your knees, rubbing your fingers across the tarmac of the road in an attempt to ground yourself.

You finally stand again, exhaling. Peter is safe. You are safe. It will all be alright. You can make a new start. He won’t be bothering you now. You’ll be okay.

As you stumble towards your apartment you’re so worked up that you don’t even notice the scurrying footsteps emerging from behind you. Seconds later it all goes dark and you realise to your horror that someone has put a bag or a sack or something made of material over your head. The fibres scratch uncomfortably against your skin.

You try to scream but a firm hand clamps over your mouth and you find yourself pushed along by strong arms. You hear a car door opening as hushed voices chatter. You’re thrown inside a vehicle, crashing against the floor of either a van or a truck as you hear the echo of the engine rumbling beneath you. You try to scramble up onto your knees but someone grabs your hands, a zip tie is sealed around your wrists and suddenly you’re helpless. You desperately try to vault yourself up onto your knees again but a gruff voice you don’t recognise speaks and you stop in your tracks.

“Just stay right there, princess” the stranger tells you. “We’re going on a little ride. And you’re gonna wanna sit tight for it”.

You go to protest but feel something hard and metal pushes into the small of your back. Despite never feeling one before, you know immediately that it’s the barrel of a gun.

Finally you stay still as you feel your fear build, laying on the floor of the vehicle, waiting patiently for your next instruction.

*

Bucky’s head is in his hands as Steve drives them back to the house.

“Just had to double down on Quill, huh?” Steve asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Steve..” Bucky warns.

“Had her in the palm of your hand...after all this time and all that scheming…and you threw it away because you couldn’t resist a beating…”

“Steve…I swear to God…”

“Jussayin’. How can you literally be kissing her one moment and have her threatening to rat you out to the feds on you the next? That’s impressive”.

Bucky ignores Steve and sighs. He’s angry at you, fuming even – especially at your threat to rat him out. Not that you know a lot anyway, he has purposefully kept his world separate from you – but still, you’d been inside his home, you know nearly all of his men by name or at least by face. He was sure you still had at least some of the cash he’d given you, and it was possible a couple of the serial numbers could be linked to a job or two…

You didn’t have enough to take him down, not with his ironclad business fronts and hotshot lawyers – but you potentially had enough to make his life more difficult than he’d like.

But he knew Steve was right. He was so close to winning you round, and he blew it. He saw red when he’d seen you kissing Quill, lost his head for a second. This was how he dealt with things, it’s what he knew. Even if you and Quill had agreed to just be friends like you said, it had sent a barrel of rage through him that someone else had touched you. Had felt your lips against theirs.

Even though he knew it was all his own fault.

[insomniumstella]

sweetest peach 

bucky x bimbo!reader

warnings: implied smut, clueless!reader, pervy-ish!Bucky — the reader is more than fine with his behaviour though, corruption kink (?), explicit language

word count: 1,285

author’s note: this was supposed to be a headcanon, but it turned into a drabble real quick. i’ve been wanting to try writing something different though, so if you have any nsfw bucky thots or opinions, please do not hesitate to send an ask!

.•° ✿ °•. he’s a tad confused when you first join the team, clad in a pink crop top and a denim mini skirt. Steve doesn’t speak of the concern that swallows the space while you reapply lipgloss before freshly manicured fingers drum against the wooden desk in the conference room. 

✧.* “hi,” you giggle, “i’m y/n,” and it’s then that James decides you’re just too cute and too oblivious to be perceived as a threat, gazing at him through doe eyes. you're so much different than anyone else on the team, gleaming with happiness and innocence, and James almost wants to corrupt you. 

.•° ✿ °•. “hi, pretty girl,” he answers with a smile, “i’m Bucky.”

✧.* Maria Hill orders everyone to find a seat, so she could go through your file and inform the other avengers of the newest member’s abilities, but the soldier cannot focus, catching your wandering glance every once in a while. heat and desire itch underneath his skin as your eyes run across his firm shoulders and biceps, lingering on the metal arm before your stare finds his face again, and you offer him a sweet grin. he’s done for, Bucky realizes — he’d protect you with his life if it came down to it. 

.•° ✿ °•. it’s a couple days later when James comes to Steve with a proposal, suggesting he should be the one to train you as the captain has far too many responsibilities. Steve agrees, too lost in the pile of documents to notice Bucky’s true intentions visibly etched into his facial expression. 

✧.* you make it almost impossible for the soldier to focus during sparring, giggling and gasping, and whining when he manhandles you into different positions. it’s wrong, he understands, to make you accidentally straddle him time and time again, but he stops caring because you don’t seem to mind, grasping onto his muscled biceps for balance.

•° ✿ °•. “you lost again, peach.” Bucky chuckles, clutching your thighs to lift the two of you into a standing position. his hands come to rest under your butt while your arms latch around his neck as a plea for him to hold you a bit longer. mmmh, you hum with a sly smile, and Bucky’s taken aback slightly. he searches your face for an emotion he hasn’t yet decided upon, but it’s as warm and as charming as always, “sweets,” he leans in, “have you been letting me win on purpose?” 

✧.* a giggle slips past your lips at his comment, “maybe,” you admit, but James cannot find it in himself to be mad because you’ve been letting him twist your body into outrageous positions for the past several weeks on purpose, whining in frustration—or pleasure—when his rough hands would handle your flesh. “i’m a witch,” you remind, pushing a piece of hair that’s stuck to his glistening forehead aside, “i could’ve used my magic on you, but i like it when you touch me.” 

.•° ✿ °•. the ocean’s still for a while as Natasha begins taking you on missions. James continues to train you at hand-to-hand combat, though, and much to his satisfaction, you’re not only the most attractive student he’s ever had, but one of the best, quickly learning to fight without magic. 

✧.* the swift glances and soft touches you often pay him outside the comfort of the gym’s walls bring the most delicious of pain and pleasure. he’s one of many you pay attention to, and it suffocates him, the sight of you acting so naive and sweet around other agents drowns him. but i like it when you touch me, James reminisces night after night, and so touch James does because how else would he know if you truly desire him. 

.•° ✿ °•. you’re making coffee one morning when you feel him press into your behind to reach for a mug in the cupboard. the action is harmless, you think, and shift to smile at him as a good morning. he returns the gesture, bucking his hips into the plush of your ass before hastily retreating. 

✧.* in your mind, the next few incidents are just as innocent. Bucky’s a righteous man, who’s only trying to be friendly to a newcomer, right? he must be because he pulls you into his lap during the compound’s movie nights when the sofa lacks space or holds the dip of your back to lead you through a crowd of people. James even offered to do your laundry, neatly folding tiny clothes into organized piles, including brightly colored panties. you noticed your favorite thong was missing from the stack of clothing he returned but stayed silent, grateful Bucky helped you in the first place. 

.•° ✿ °•. it’s several months later when James decides he’s had enough. the team is hanging out at a nearby dive bar, indulging in countless dirt-cheap cocktails and heated rounds of pool. you’re standing beside Steve as you attempt to strike the cue ball, the cue stick gliding right above it. the frustration is evident in your face, eyebrows all scrunched up, wrinkling your pretty features. lacy panties peek out from under your skirt when you bend down, and James can feel his jeans tightening. lately, leggings and suits Tony designed with your specific kind of magic in mind have been the core of your attire, but it’s friday, and the night’s supposed to be fun, so you’re back to low-cut tops and barely there denim. 

✧.* “shit,” you curse. the word is foreign to Bucky’s ears when it comes from your plump lips, and he abandons the conversation with Sam to come stand behind you. he places his hands on the cushions, caging you between his body and the table. pouting, you turn around to glance at him, “the stupid stick won’t hit the stupid ball,” you whine, unintentionally squirming against his hard length. 

•° ✿ °•. “let me help you, peach,” James chuckles, holding your arms in his hands. he maneuvers you into the right position, helping you strike the ball. The cue ball strikes a purple neighboring sphere, and it rolls into one of the pockets. swiftly, you turn around to wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck, slightly jumping up and down from the happiness of a successful shot. “good job, sweets!” James celebrates with you, but it ends early when his metal arm detaches you from his body, clutching your waist to twist you, so that your back is against his chest again. “do that without my help this time.” 

✧.* you comply as he takes a step back, but your focus is soon blurred when his nimble fingers caress the skin of your exposed thighs. James is so close, you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and he shifts to shield his wandering hands from unsuspecting gazes. leaning down, “focus” he murmurs into your neck before his fingers drift higher, nearing your core. it clenches around nothing, and James seems to notice, chuckling before he withdraws his touch to correct your form. “lower,” he instructs, pushing down on the dip of your back, “this hand should be further away from the cue ball,” Bucky informs, but you’re putty in his hands. 

.•° ✿ °•. he retracts, allowing you to concentrate. the sphere misses a colored ball, striking the rail, and stops. “i missed,” you pout again and shove the cue into his hands, “i’ma get a drink.” 

✧.* "how about i come with you," a slight smirk dances on his lips as he drops the stick into Tony's lap. his hand slithers to rest on the dip of your waist, and he pulls you into his body. you only giggle at his antics, the sound of it syrupy and genuine. 

.•° ✿ °•. “alright, Buck,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes, and James swears he's going to completely corrupt you one day. 

[lfnr-blog-blog-blog]

Blooms of Spring

Hi I guess I am back from the dead, maybe? Like a reannimated corpse. Gif tagged from my BESTIE @flordeamatista

No beta, I am a giant chicken and if I dont post this now it wont happen. TW: mentions of blood, death, angsty, some heart break. you know me, gotta make you sad, no happy endings here.

~800 words.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The night ended with the slamming of a door, blood soaking the floor. A ring and a question unasked. 

You felt your heart break as you walked away from the love of your life. The rain soaking your dress- one of many gifts from him. Seeing that side of him had shocked you. The man behind the mask: The Winter Soldier. 

Your love story had started out like any other, a cup of coffee spilled in a lap. The instant sparkle in his eye as he helped save your tablet and papers from their caffeinated death. A whirlwind of emotions that lead to tonight. The simple things, flowers at your desk, your very own office in his massive home, his men delivering packages and meals even if he was away. 

The months you had spent with him flew past, making you breathless. Knowing this was the man you wanted to marry made it easier to reconcile with the job he had. After all, running the largest crime syndicate on the East Coast allowed you both a lot of liberties, parties and meals and most of all, time. Yes, he was busy but he was never too busy for you. Until tonight. 

You worked in your office in his home, wanting to finish this final project before you left on vacation the next day, after the party tonight. Lounging in your sundress before getting ready. Hearing the preparations happening downstairs had you chomping at the bit to get ready, but waiting for the team he always had came in to pamper you before an event. 

You grab your water from the desk along with your phone and your design tablet to go to the couch, curling under the soft fabric of the newest blanket you had found at the store earlier in the week. Glass shatters around your desk, stunning you, turning your body to stone. A figure in a dark tactical suit pulls you into their arms, shoving your phone into your hand. “Call him” the voice says, “Calmly or I will put a bullet in your spine.”  Pushing something cold and heavy into your back. 

With shaky hands you push his name on the screen, looking at the picture of the two of you laughing on the Ferris wheel, putting it on speaker. “Blossom, I am a little busy right now, I will call you in a minute.” The click of the line resonates in your heart. A nail in the coffin. 

The promises Bucky made all going down the drain, that he would always be there for you. The promise that he would never ignore you. Gone. Just like you were about to be. 

The hours pass in slow motion, the waiting, the blood dripping down your arm, the puddle slowly getting bigger, one drop at a time. The thunder making you jump with every pass, the lightning illuminating the knife in the man in black hands.  Waiting for Bucky to appear, the taunting of the man you’ve come to know as Rumlow, slowly making you crazier. Promises of the pain and torment to come. The regrets of all the silly demands on Bucky’s time that you have ever made, trips to the store, and the time he killed the spider in your apartment. The one time you TRULY need him, breaking your heart and your trust. 

A flash and bang throws you to the floor, your knees taking the brunt of the fall. Smoke filling the room, Bucky grabbing Rumlow, the two fighting for dominance, Bucky coming out on top, and the blank stare in his eyes as he looks past you. On the floor, sobbing, and the box falls to the ground in front of you. He steps over you, leaving the sound of your heart breaking, you screaming his name, all being drowned by the intensity of the storm raging outside. 

Steve pulls you off the floor, leading you to the other room, and bandaging the cut on your bicep. Going to the bedroom you find your bag, the planned vacation long gone, picking up the ring box from the ground you open it, throwing it into the blood on the floor. 

You slam the door to the massive home, just a suitcase and a bandage soaked in blood, ears ringing, and questions without answers. The blooms along the driveway are being pelted by the storm, ruining the blossoms of spring, how apt.

[writing-house-of-m]

Endgame

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The group talks about the fight against Thanos

A/N: Three for three! I hope this one makes up for the angst posted yesterday 😊 For those who care, here is the request. Comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated!

Prompt: "That was the night I nearly lost you."

It is the end of another party. This time, one thrown in celebration of successfully defeating Thanos once and for all.

It didn't matter where you were hiding Vision from him, Thanos kept finding him. So, when a plan was formed to hide Vision in Wakanda, everyone was ready to make it the last stand. It was a good thing Strange and Wong were able to gather so many people.

Most of those who helped in the final battle were still here, dotted around in the lounge area.

Everyone was exchanging stories about their version of events. All of you were in agreement about being in awe when Carol destroyed a ship single handedly.

You wouldn't have believed Bucky when he spoke about the raccoon he was fighting alongside if you didn't see the creature with your own eyes. You along with Thor and Peter had to corroborate his story. Especially to Tony who was sceptical.

Okoye spoke about the relief she felt at seeing the King again after he was thrown across the field. King T'Challa commented, saying the experience was not one of his finest moments making everyone laugh.

There were no major casualties and no deaths so it felt easy to joke about such things. You can only imagine what it would have felt like to fail such a risky plan.

It was Wanda's turn to speak, "That was the night I nearly lost you," she says, looking at you and squeezing your knee as she leans more into your side.

You and Wanda had each other's backs the whole time, fighting alongside one another. You have always worked well together. Finishing off enemies for the other left and right.

"I left your side for like, a second," you scoff, cinching your eyebrows, everyone laughing and looking amused at the scene.

Knowing Wanda could hold her own you left her so you could help Scott who was covered with aliens, like an apple overthrown by ants. Because she didn't notice you leave, too busy 'kicking names and taking ass,' as Mantis put it, Wanda was worried you were hurt. That was until she heard you compare Scott to Godzilla through her comms.

"I know, but I thought you were hurt," Wanda pouts.

You smile at her antics and begin to lean in to kiss her saying she is being ridiculous but you are cut short with all the jeers you hear from everyone in the room.

"No one needs to see that, lovebirds," you hear Natasha's disgust, loud and clear.

The conversation swiftly moves on to Thor talking about his new axe, Stormbreaker, and all the things it can do. Your attention is turned to Wanda as his voice drones on in the background.

"Hey," you whisper to get Wanda to look at you. When her green eyes meet yours you think of how lucky you are to be able to call her yours.

"You know I'm never gonna die, right? I still need to marry you," you say quietly while grinning.

Wanda smacks your chest, her grin matching yours. Before her next action she quickly looks around the room. You don't have time to ask what she is doing because in the next second her lips are on yours but gone just as fast.

"That's all good and well but you have to propose first," she says, centimetres from your lips.

You want to rebuttal but your attention is sucked back into the discussion around you when Scott says your name, recounting his events on almost being drowned alive by 'smelly aliens'. Hope, who is sitting beside him, shakes her head giggling at his explanation.

Conversations and drinks keep flowing long into the night.

Steve makes a heartfelt speech about everyone doing a good job in keeping the people on this planet safe. He goes on to say everyone who showed up for the fight has given everyone on Earth and even life beyond the stars a chance to appreciate their loved ones and live another day.

You always wondered what the endgame of this superhero life would be for you. But it's this. You're holding it in your arms and are surrounded by it.

The next step in your life is to make Wanda your wife, which you will do as soon as you perfect the proposal you have been planning. Together you will build a real life together and your friends will be there to witness it all.

Resting your head against Wanda's, your mind drifts to a normal life filled with white picket fences, crying babies, school pick ups and drop offs, regular home cooked meals. The stress of PTA meetings, bake sales, sports tryouts, college options. It all has you smiling to yourself.

You can't wait.

[jbbarnesandnoble]

What could have been

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: Steve attends the wedding of his first love, now he can only wonder what could have been.

Warnings: angst angst angst, regret, my best friend's wedding type pain, Steve doesn't get the girl in the end so the pairing is a lie... sorry

Word Count: 1,435

a/n: wow, the first thing I choose to write in years is angst, I came back and chose violence. But fr, I'm surprised anyone is still here (or you just forgot you followed me haha) anyway, I saw those pictures of Chris and knew I just had to write something. I've also wanted to get back into writing for the longest time but have been so busy. This is definitely not the best thing I've ever written, and I'm sorry for any typos or errors (I didn't proof read) but I did it and I am proud of myself for doing it! I hope you enjoy it and feel free to leave feedback!

(not my pic)

Fairy lights shimmer and glow over the banquet hall, candles glow at each table, couples young and old crowd on the dance floor all swaying and dancing to a cover of 'Can't Help Falling in Love'. Steve watches from the sidelines, a wistful look upon his handsome face. Though he wears a smile, it fails to match the hint of sorrow in the blue of his eyes.

"It's a wedding, Steve, not a funeral." Bucky jabs at his best friend as he sits in the empty seat next to the blond. Steve laughs, though forced, it was a laugh nonetheless. A moment of silence passes between the two men before either of them speak. Steve is the first to break the silence.

"I screwed up." Was all he could muster.

"You just realized?" Though masked as a jab, Bucky's question carried much truth to it. Steve had made a grave mistake and it took him far too long to realize. Now, he knows he will never be able to share his true feelings with her.

"Her wedding is a real crappy place to have this realization, isn't it?" His blue eyes look to the table across from him, he watches Y/n for a moment and for a split second, he imagines what could have been had he had the courage to tell her how he truly felt. Maybe he would have been the one to make her smile, the one to make her laugh, the one the hold her when she needs a shoulder to cry on. He sucks in a sharp and quite painful breath as he wonders if he could have been the one she walked down the isle to today.

"Bucky I-" Tears prick at his eyes, a lump forms in his throat. He no longer wishes to speak because he knows if he does he will break. Bucky places a supportive hand

A few songs have played and ended before he finds the composure to continue, "I wanted to support her, to show her I'm happy for her, because I am. But I..." his voice drowns in the now upbeat music, most of the guests are now on the dance floor jumping and dancing to the song currently playing, the bride and groom included.

Steve looks away, his eyes falling to his plate of untouched food. It looks and smells delicious, but he hardly has the stomach for it right now. His eyes fell onto the glass of wine next to his plate, he might not be hungry, but he could surely use a drink. He picks the glass up and downs it in one swig.

"It was selfish of me to come here when I'm in love with her." The words fall past his lips, his face changes from a look of grief to one of disappointment. He can't help but feel guilty for attending her wedding only to sulk in a corner for the entire night.

"You being here means the world to her, Steve." Bucky says, looking at him with all sincerity. "Just take a look," he points across the room and even in the dim lighting he sees her in all her beauty. Her hair is done in a low bun, a few pieces were left out as a face frame. Her makeup is simple, but even if it were done extravagantly, it would have been in vain, for her dress was the talk of the evening, it truly made the bride look like royalty. 

Even in the crowd of people, she manages to find Steve's eyes, a small flush creeps into his cheeks. A radiant smile spreads across her painted lips which makes Steve's heart skip a beat or two. He wishes she wouldn't smile at him like that, like he was the one she had married that day.

Lucky for Steve, he's smart enough to know that she looks at her now husband with a look that she reserves for him. Steve hopes the guy knows how lucky he is.

"Steve, Bucky!" Y/n yells over the music. The two men stand to greet her and offer their congratulations. "Thank you so much for being here. It means the world to me!" She adds with a joyous smile. Bucky gives Steve a knowing look.

"We wouldn't have missed it." Bucky says for the both of them. Steve attempts to listen as Bucky asks Y/n endless questions about the wedding and how she's feeling. Steve can't help but think that having to entertain so many guests all in an evening would be the most draining part of it all.

"I'm drained physically, but I feel so full." She beams at them, her eyes shimmering from the fairy lights or love Steve isn't sure. But he is sure of one thing, even if he isn't the reason for her joy, all he's ever wanted was to see her smile and that's exactly what he's getting.

"I'm glad." The words fall past Steve's lips before he can think. He smiles at her and for the first time this evening, it's genuine. She thanks them both once more before the DJ calls the newlyweds to get ready to make their exit. With that, she takes her leave. Steve and Bucky find themselves alone once more.

Outside of the venue the guests line either side of the exit, each waiting with anticipation to send off the new Mr. and Mrs. Each guest was given a sparkler to light for when the couple makes their exit.

Steve stands at a distance, watching from the back of the small parking lot, wishing not to be spotted. With a few more drinks in him he's even less sure that he'll maintain his composure. Especially after how he barely managed to keep it together inside. A breeze blows gently, sweeping disheveled blond hair into his face.

The cool autumn air pricks at his skin, but it does little to chill him. From the drinks or being naturally warm, he isn't sure, but he's happy either way since he left his jacket inside.

Blue eyes watch as everyone gets ready to send the bride and groom off, friends laugh and share stories about the couple's early days. The mother of the bride and mother of the groom wipe tears as they remember their children's first steps, now they're married.

He looks up to the night sky, the stars shine so bright it looks as if they are shimmering. The moon shines brightest of all as it reflects the sun, it illuminates the night. Casting light on that which is in darkness.

He rocks gently with the wind as he observes the galaxy. Loud cheering pulls him from thoughts of a different life, the bride and groom, Y/n and her husband, have made their exit. His right hand falls to his pant pocket and pulls out a sparkler and matches.

It takes him a second to light it, as though lighting it is what seals their marriage. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he lights it and waves it in tribute to the newly weds.

Waving a sparkler is a simple thing, mindless even. He waves it back and forth, watching his first love from a distance, watches as she beams at another man that is now her husband, he watches as she leans in to kiss him, as they get into his car and drive away.

Soon, the sparkler fizzes out and he's alone again in the dark. For how long he's unsure, for at some point his vision began to blur and he could no longer see clearly. Hot tears stream down his rosy cheeks, and drip onto his dress shirt.

It is now, after the dancing and celebration, after the food and drink, after the laughter and conversation that he can finally fall apart. His heart aches in his tight chest. It's that kind of pain that feels like your heart could give out at any moment. It's the kind of pain that sinks into your stomach and makes you sick. For the first time that night, he falls apart, in the middle of that parking lot.While he is happy for her, it is now he realized that he only ever focused on being happy for her. Not once did he stop to realize the importance of grieving what could have been. For the first time, Steve has allowed himself to grieve the loss of his first love. Not because she had died, but because he never took a chance. Now he is left wondering what could have been.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Love In The Dark

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Based off Adele’s song, love in the dark.

Warnings: Angsty Oneshot, you break his heart, what a bitch.

You and Bucky had been through so much together. You were already a part of the team when he got deprogrammed and joined. Steve was the driving factor for you two to become so close. Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so you guessed that meant you trusted the winter soldier too.

You fell in love rather quickly, it wasn’t out of a movie scene or anything. You were friends, and it slowly led to something more. You were tasked with being his seeing eye dog for the first few months, before he was sent out on any missions.

When the first mission was dropped on your desk, your boss said you had to prepare him, you had no clue how you would do it. That was the first night Bucky opened up to you, he cried to you. He was terrified of being violent. Scared that fighting would revert his mind back into a killing machine.

That was five years ago. You settled into a routine with Bucky, you got comfortable, that was a mistake. You were independent, brave, the new it girl of the Avengers. Now you can’t do anything or go anywhere without him. You only took missions that Bucky was also assigned to. You entangled yourselves into each other.

At first it was thrilling, you’re guilty of rushing things. It all felt so right in the moment. Like he was meant to be your lifeline. You were too clouded by love bombing to see how deep the hole you dug yourself was. It’s like you were drowning now, you weren’t a person anymore.

It was always Bucky and Y/N. The romance had died long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to end things. You told yourself you could fix it or you’d eventually fall back into each other. Your relationship was just based off convenience. You were two ships passing in the night most of the time, roommates it felt like. You didn’t know how your life would end up in another five years.

You know you have to end it, no matter how much he begs you to stay. With shaking hands, you knock on his door, stepping back when you hear him shuffling on the other side. He opens the door, raising his eyebrows at you “Why didn’t you just walk in?” He turns around, going back to his coffee table. He was dusting off old baseball cards in a brown paper bag.

You walk in, closing the door behind yourself. Making no moves to sit on the couch beside him, you stand there, giving him one last chance to do anything. When you doesn’t raise his head from polishing a clear card sleeve, you let out an exasperated huff. Tears try to form in your eyes, you feel them burning but nothings coming out. Your throat feels like it’s closing on itself, drying out instantly.

You take a deep breath, never blinking. You didn’t want to take your eyes off of him, “I can’t do this anymore.”. You finally say it, the five words you’d been grueling over for two years. It catches Bucky’s attention though, “What do you mean?”, he stands stepping towards you. You put your arms up, pressing your hands into his chest. “Please, give me space.”

He listens obediently, distancing himself from you. “Tell me what’s going on baby.” You scoff, he hasn’t called you baby in months.

“Don’t call me that.” You look into his confused eyes, “I want to be my own person Bucky. I’m breaking up with you.”

He invades your personal space when you say that. Wrapping his arms around you, he forces his face into the crook of your neck, “You don’t mean that, I know you don’t mean it. What’s wrong baby, it’s okay.”

You wiggle free from his grasp, “Give it up Bucky, it’s really over.” He steps back, his shoulders are rigid, “Why are you doing this?” Your heart starts beating out of your chest, like it’s gasping for air, begging you to stop.

“I don’t love you anymore.” You can’t look him in the eyes and say that, because you know it’s not true. You know this is the only chance to say everything so you rephrase it, “Rather, I love myself more. It’s better this way.”

“Better for you, not me.” Bucky’s face is strained, he can’t look at you. “You and I both know things haven’t been the same in a while Bucky, don’t act surprised.” Bucky took his chance to scoff at you.

“I haven’t done anything different, no changes, so what changed you?” He drops himself down on the couch, holding his head in his hands. Guilt fills you, like this is all your fault and not shared blame.

“Everything Bucky.” You sit beside him, holding his hand. “I’m sorry, but this relationship isn’t fair to either of us anymore.”

Bucky raises his head to look at you, tears running down his face, “I love you, I can’t let you go.” Tears finally spring to your eyes, it feels like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. “You have to.”

He grabs either side of your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I’ll do anything, I’ll be anything you want me to be, just don’t do this.” Your heart breaks, but you have to do this for the both of you.

You pull his hands away, standing up in front of him. “You’ll be okay, I promise.” Bucky shakes his head, in complete disbelief of what’s happening. You make your way to the door, only looking back once your in the hallway, his flesh hand was wiping tears from his eyes as he sobbed. You close the door, shielding your eyes from the damage you caused.

[turtle-steverogers]

All Bucky wants for his birthday one year is a completely self indulgent slumber party, and of course, Steve makes it happen:

-They start the night with the rest of the Avengers at a literal spa Steve managed to rent out for them all

-It’s more or less a free-for-all with Thor nearly drowning in the mud pool and Bucky falling asleep on the massage table and getting a mustache drawn onto his ass by Clint 

-(”You didn’t try to stop him, Steven??” “...No.” “Actually, he helped”)

-Afterwards, they order way too much pizza from Bucky’s favorite pizza place in Brooklyn and end up back at the Barnes-Rogers Brownstone where Steve had already cleared out the living room space and set up a projector and a whole bunch of sleeping bags

-A snack table is laden with candy and popcorn for later 

-(”You really outdid yourself, pal.” “It’s not outdoing myself when it comes to you, Buck Buck.”)

-They eat pizza in front of the first Star Wars movie, then make their way through the rest of the series and most of the LOTR movies by morning 

-And, of course, Steve and Bucky end up shoulder to shoulder in their sleeping bags by the end of the night

-It’s silly and self-indulgent, but Bucky feels like he never wants to leave this moment-- surrounded by friends and family and love. Free to celebrate the little things, and even spoil himself a little, because he’s living now. Not just surviving. He’s thriving and breathing and god, it feels good to savor these moments. Things he used to take for granted, like birthday parties. 

-Steve nudges him, and he looks over, smiling at Steve in the dark, movie lights dancing off both of their faces

-”You okay, Buck?” “Yeah, Stevie.” He leans into him, and Steve tugs him close, kissing his temple. “I’m great.”

[themculibrary]

Mpreg Steve Rogers Masterlist

Born For This (ao3) - Capsicle2013 steve/tony M, 71k

Summary: Being an Avenger was something he always wanted, but for some reason his parents didn’t want that for him. He just wishes they could see what he sees.

Crossed Connections (ao3) - vulcansupernova steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Steve Rogers serves the wealthy Stark family as a maid, his social status and poor health binding him to a serving class. Life is a set routine for the maid, until one day the Stark Heir scents the maids on coming heat. Unable to control his desire for the servant Tony takes Steve as his bonded. Despite the possible dire consequences.

Each In Their Season (ao3) - peoriapeoria steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: Steve Rogers finds the Future isn’t his only new adventure.

Everything Has Changed (ao3) - Slytherin2013 steve/tony M, 37k

Summary: Raising a super kid is hard enough as it is. Now they’re adding baby number two to the mix.

For Everything a Reason (ao3) - orphan_account steve/tony, bruce/tony E, 6k

Summary: Steve wants to start a family, but nothing seems to be going right.

Hidden (ao3) - fadedlullabyes, Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest steve/tony, bruce/clint/thor E, 21k

Summary: After years of hiding his status as an Omega, Steve finally slips up when he beileves the rest of the team is out of the tower.

I Had to Have this Talk With You (My Happiness Depends on You) (ao3) - Tito11 steve/tony E, 39k (series)

Summary: The tribal adventures of Tony, the head of a household, and Steve, his bride, as they attempt to deal with kidnappings, pregnancies, and day-to-day life in a tribe, all of which are made more complicated by their epic miscommunications.

I’m Following the Map that Leads to You (ao3) - fiftyshadesofstony steve/tony, bucky/natasha, happy/pepper, carol/rhodey M, 45k

Summary: All alpha Tony Stark wanted to do was make amends with his coworker, Steve Rogers, and maybe build a new friendship, starting off on the right foot. He had no clue that lending a helping hand when the omega needed it most would lead to a life changing consequence.

Labor Pains (ao3) - Scooberto steve/tony N/R, 1k

Summary: Warning: DO NOT, under any circumstances, hold the hand of a Super Soldier while he is going through labor. a.k.a. Tony should have known better.

Life Changes (ao3) - Slytherin2013 steve/tony M, 48k

Summary: Steve has a secret that is going to change everything. He’s not ready to be a parent, especially when the child he carries has a chance of being born with enhanced abilities.

Massive Mammaries (ao3) - orphan_account steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Steve’s pregnant and has huge, milk-filled tits. Tony loves them.

me and you +1 (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor steve/tony N/R, 4k

Summary: Steve discovers that he’s pregnant after the events of Civil War, but he doesn’t get a chance to tell Tony because Team Cap is currently in hiding, and Steve can’t risk calling Tony and getting the others in trouble. Steve is trying to get through the pregnancy, but it’s hard when he doesn’t have Tony around. He’s grateful for Natasha and Sam’s support, but it’s not the same.

Not How It Works (ao3) - starrdust411 steve/sam T, 51k

Summary: In that moment Steve felt like a drowning man pulling everyone down with him and of all the things Sam could do, hugging him was probably the most absurd.

Our Omega (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor bucky/steve/sam N/R, 3k

Summary: Steve And Thor have a one night stand at one of Tony’s parties, and Steve ends up pregnant. Thor leaves the next day for Asgard without saying a word to Steve, leaving Steve to deal with the mess alone. Except, he’s not really alone. He has Bucky and Sam, who step up to take care of Steve and the baby.

Papa Bird (ao3) - AnimeLoveLover123 steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve gave birth to there baby only a week ago and Tony hates being away from home for even a minute.Or the one where nothing happens aside from family baby fluff and everyone has wings and nests and I don’t know why but it’s cute.

Sleepless Nights (ao3) - Moonykins steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve stood in the entrance way to Tony’s workshop in nothing but a pair of very stretchy pajama bottoms.  His hair was mussed from sleep and he was rubbing at one of his eyes, looking a lot younger than he physically appeared (almost like a child who had just woken from a nightmare).  His big, pregnant belly stood out proudly from the rest of his body, drawing Tony’s eyes to it like a magnet.

Steve Is Pregnant and it’s 5am (ao3) - Kiwifruitjuice steve/tony N/R, 1k

Summary: Loki did some magic and now Steve is pregnant, and Tony is the confirmed father. Bruce is unconcerned, Clint is busy buying baby pajamas, Thor is trying to convince Loki to help Steve heal his back pain, and Fury just doesn’t know what the hell is going on anymore.

Surprises (ao3) - ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying steve/bucky M, 27k

Summary: Steve’s current annoyance is caused by the scene in the advertisement where a child is pulling a wagon, collecting scrap; he’s had it hurled at him often enough, “Where’s your little red wagon, sport?” and other, ruder, iterations, that when the guy in front of him starts badmouthing the advertisement, Steve takes his irritation out on him.

Predictably, it doesn’t go well.

The Art of Diplomacy (ao3) - Muccamukk steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: In the wake of an alien treaty mission, Steve tries to find balance in his new life. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know where all this puts his relationship with Tony.

[Steve gets pregnant by an alien in a lab, but it is Stony]

This is Not a Drill: Honeymoon Edition (ao3) - sabrecmc steve/tony E, 27k

Summary: Steve’s going into Heat, so they head for the island.  Tony handles this just as well as you would expect.If you don’t read the first one, this will make even less sense.  Which is saying something.

[ephemeralbutterfly]

Fluffy Steve Fest Rec List: July 4: Birthday

Hello everyone! I am doing daily themed rec lists for @fluffystevefest. The fics are related (some more loosely than others) to the daily prompts. The number of fics for any given day and prompt varies, but I have at least one fic for each day. There's also a wide variety of fic types and ratings, so I hope there will be something for everyone.

The lists are vertically long, so I've put them behind a cut.

Today's fics are a grab bag.

Happy birthday, Steve!

Dancing

Captain America Finds His Fella by PR Zed (@trappingsofzed)

Rating: Teen Pairing: Stucky Summary: When she reached her eighties, Audrey though she was done with change. She thought things would continue as they always had. Instead, Steve and his friends have brought her more change than she'd gone through in the twenty years before. She gets used to one routine, and then a new one crops up. Or what happens when an elderly USO showgirl helps her super hero friend and his boyfriend. Comments: This is the third part of the Captain America Has a Fella series; I recommend reading the prior parts first. Steve isn't the one dancing here, but dancing does feature prominently.

Wishes

Against All Odds by spinawren (@wrenaspun)

Rating: Teen Pairing: Can be read as gen or as Stucky preslash Summary: Steve wakes up feeling so terrible that his first thought is that the serum somehow has worn off. His second thought, when he opens his eyes to see hard grey pavement, is that maybe he’s been sent back in time. He’d definitely spent a few nights next to trash cans in seedy alleys in the 30s, and stranger things than time travel had happened in his life so far. What was one more thing to add to the list? When he manages to wrench his head downwards enough to look at himself, though, he realises pretty quickly that he’s an idiot. And that he’s a cat. Summary: Steve wants to help Bucky. Thanks to magic, he gets that wish granted, just not in the way anyone would expect.

Little Red Button by scribblywobblytimeylimey

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Stony Summary: Sequel to 'All There in the Manual' for firelordstark: “[I]t would be interesting if roleplaying an android were an actual kink of his and not just his subconscious trying to construct a situation where Tony would be interested in him.” (What do you know? Freud was right.) Tony takes so well to Steve's suggestion he starts to wish he'd mentioned it sooner. It's easy to believe the rest of it – that he's the sex-toy android Tony built for when Steve's not around, built to please him, modded within an inch of his life to react to pressure sensors in all the right places – when Tony's even gone as far as to integrate a voice modification filter that fits like a gag but lets out every last sound, not quite in Steve's voice, but flattened a little with a tinny edge, just like he *would* sound if he *were* a robot sex toy. And that's not even all of it. One of these days, he's going to learn to never underestimate Tony Stark. Comments: Steve gets his sexy desires met in this fic. It is not necessary to read the prequel to understand what's going on. Do mind the tags.

Party

Make It Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Stucky Summary: “Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.” Comments: Funny and lighthearted. Somehow both borderline crack and also entirely in character and believable. It's not a birthday party, but there is a party featured.