#stevebucky fanfiction

[metalbvcky]

There's No Cure for Love — A Stucky Medical AU with doctor Steve + patient Bucky

The hospital is Steve's life. He practically lives here, day in and day out. It's what he does best. Help people. Save people. Try to make a difference in someone else's world even when his own has been slowly crumbling. His Ma's health was declining, though things seemed to have stabilized for now. The entire reason Steve changed specialties all those years ago was because of his Ma's illness. Not because of the organized chaos of the ER, but the reality that an ER doctor like himself could not focus properly while grieving over a dying loved one. And well, there was something to be said about slower-paced work. "I have this patient," Steve tells his mother while nursing a weak vending machine coffee, relaxing in a rocking chair on the porch of the assisted living home. "Bucky."

Bucky hates his life. He hates switching majors. He hates the fact he hasn't kissed another boy. He hates the insanely large mansion he lives in. He hates his family— his mother's heavy involvement in politics, his father's billion-dollar real estate empire. his two out of three sisters for bending over their father's will. He hates everything.

But most importantly, he hates whatever the fuck illness or disease he seems to have been born with. He's gone through countless tests, treatments, and procedures throughout his entire life. Hospitals and clinics are his personal hell. Nurses don't understand. Doctors don't care. He's broken.

"They don’t believe me," Bucky says with a forlorn sigh. "No one ever does."

"I do."

BBE BABB | May: Hurt/Comfort @buckybarnesevents BBE Juneiverse | Medical Stucky Bingo | O1: AU Medical Setting @stuckybingo

♥ this is an upcoming multi-chap WIP— I have not started it quite yet (currently finishing up my last WIP) but posting will be TBD sometime later this year ♥

[purpleicedteas]

Practice

by purpleicedteas

“I'm ready, too, Stevie. I just think—” Bucky sighed, a mischievous look in his eyes. “I just think we should practice.” Steve blinked. “Practice.” “Yeah. For pups. It takes some couples several cycles, so if we want to get pregnant, we need to be ready for next week.” Steve’s cheeks flushed. “Right.” “Wouldn’t want to waste a round, right?” “Right.”

Bucky Barnes Bingo: C2 - MPreg @buckybarnesbingo

Captain Bottom Bingo: Free Space @cabottombingo

Build a Bucky Bingo: Happily Ever After @buckybarnesevents

Steve Rogers Bingo: Free Space @steverogersbingo

Thank you to @buckybarnesevents for putting up such a wonderful event! The NYE Masquerade was so fun. Thank you for getting me out of a writing slump.

[buckyismybicycle]

clear as day, there was never any other way [AO3 Link] Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings: Angst, Acceptance, Extreme Measures of Love, Lovers to Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Canon-Divergent/Adjacent, Loss/Mourning Summary: Nothing could keep them separated. Nothing could pull them apart, whether it be days, years, or decades. Time after time, everyone around them catches on.

Or, simply: This is Steve and Bucky’s world, everyone else simply lives in it.

My @starspangledsecretsanta​ fic for @kestrafagnor​. 🧡

1943: Kreischberg, Austria

They had to make camp. Steve knows he’s already pushing these men beyond what they had left in the tank, but the more distance between them and Kreischberg, the better.

None of them complained, beaten and sore as they were — they, too, wanted to put as many miles between them and that godforsaken facility as possible.

Every now and then, Steve glances beside him, to make sure that Bucky was still with him. That Bucky was really with him and not an image that Steve’s mind had conjured up, like an apparition born from his sheer will.

But it was real. Bucky was alive, breathing, and walking next to him.

Tim Dugan, a large, sturdy man and Gabe Jones, a quiet but observant soldier, stuck close by, checking in on Bucky almost as much as Steve was. Once upon a time, it might’ve made him jealous. Now, it warmed Steve’s heart to see that Bucky had people looking out for him in Steve’s absence.

“Y’alright there, pal?” Bucky asks with a curious look. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m pale but I ain’t that pale and I sure as shit ain’t dead… Thanks to you.”

He adds that last part in, quieter, with a private smile and an almost-wink.

Steve wants to kiss him senseless. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m…”

He trails off, thinking about all the possibilities he’d tried to stamp down, that crept back into his brain anyway. Like: I thought I’d find you dead.

“I’m alright, Buck,” he doubles down, clapping a hand over Bucky’s shoulder. He lingers for a moment too long, perhaps, but feeling Bucky’s solid form beneath his palm is something he’s hesitant to let go of.

It’s then that he feels the slight tremors in Bucky’s body, the small twitch of his muscles. He looks closer still, to see the way Bucky’s jaw is clenched tightly and he’s got a white-knuckled grip on his rifle.

“We make camp here,” Steve declares, to everyone.

Most of the men collapse where they are, thankful to rest regardless where they are or how hard the ground is. The few supplies they’d swiped from the facility are stretched thin.

“C’mon,” Bucky murmurs beside him with a tilt of his head. He’d been handed a threadbare thing — honestly, Steve’s not sure if it’s a carpet or a curtain — and sets them a small distance from the group. He throws it over his shoulders, leaning against one of several fallen logs and invites Steve to sit, unspoken.

Steve does without hesitation, pressing his body against Bucky’s as close as he can. He tries to convince himself that he’s sharing his body heat, that this would appear perfectly normal to anyone who might happen to look over.

Only once he’s sitting like this, in the dim torchlight through the dark of the night as his adrenaline wears off, does he see how battered Bucky’s body truly is. The bruising, the swelling, the blood from his ears. It makes his breath catch in his throat. His hand moves up to Bucky’s face automatically to wipe the blood away, reminiscent of all the times Bucky’s done this for him after a back alley scrap.

“You saved me,” Bucky whispers, his face so open and earnest that Steve loses his ability to speak. Bucky’s looking at him like he’s a hero — with the same awe and adoration that Steve’s always had for Bucky growing up.

“You saved me first,” Steve reminds him.

He forgets where he is, forgets the hundreds of men behind them and the fact they can’t be doing this — he forgets it all, when Bucky leans in.

“Stuck with me forever, then,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s lips.

“Forever,” he promises back, pressing in.

He’s dreamt of this, yearned for this every single day Bucky’s been gone. Bucky tastes like the tangy copper of blood from his split lip, but Steve still thinks it’s perfect.

✧✧✧

“I knew it,” Gabe whispers with a wide grin as he turns away from the private moment.

“Well you certainly don’t just drop behind enemy lines without backup for a friend,” Dugan snorts.

“You sayin’ you wouldn’t do that for me? I’m wounded,” Gabe retorts.

“Lookit that, Jonesy finally learns how to listen.”

Gabe huffs a laugh before he glances over at their Sergeant again. “Made for each other,” he murmurs more to himself than Dugan.

Bucky and Steve are curled up, resting their foreheads against each other’s.

“Heaven knows those two gotta have the biggest sets of balls on them,” Dugan says, exasperated. “Or they might just be the biggest pair of idiots I have ever met.”

“Like I said: made for each other.”

They never did quite hide it well enough — it was impossible to, when even across the field it was obvious in the way they looked at each other.

The Howling Commandos never said a thing, but the way they always stood around the two of them, like a herd surrounding their young, Steve and Bucky knew.

Knew that they were safe. Protected from outside eyes.

It was in the way Morita always set them in the same tent, the way Falsworth would wink at them slyly as he left them alone, or they way Dernier always sang softly in French and yet somehow they all knew that these were love songs, secret little odes to the two of them.

Maybe they shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable so quickly, but it was impossible to resist.

Every beat of Bucky’s heart was a signal that he was alive, when Steve had thought he’d lost everything that mattered to him. He had to feel it.

He doesn’t fall asleep until Bucky does and even then, it’s hard not to stare at Bucky’s chest, willing it to rise and fall steadily. Sometimes, he sleeps with fingers pressed to the pulse point in Bucky’s wrist.

They gravitate toward each other no matter how hard they try not to, finally colliding in a tangle of limbs and frantic kisses, every inch of their bare skin pressed together.

✧✧✧

Two years. That’s what they end up getting together. It’s longer than some people get, they should be grateful for it, and yet Steve can’t stop thinking about how unfair it was.

It should’ve been me.

He never said it out loud, but the Howlies knew anyway.

When Bucky fell off that train, they all mourned — they mourned for their friend, their sergeant, and they mourned for Steve, for he was never the same after that.

They mourned for the purest love they could have ever witnessed, the kind of love that inspires and restores faith in humanity during a time of war.

Nobody thought anything of it when the Valkyrie went down. Except the Howling Commandos, who had perhaps thought that Steve crashed that plane a little too eagerly, just coming from Bucky’s death like that.

Decades later, after years of service and medals, children and grandchildren, each of them still remembered Steve’s face. Sometimes it was the way Steve looked at Bucky like the man held the answers to the universe. Other times, it was his face after Bucky’s fall. Both were a testament to how deeply Bucky had been embedded in Steve’s heart.

  2011: New York, USA

He wakes to the sounds of a baseball game he remembers, but in a place he can’t remember at all.

He’s told it’s New York, but it doesn’t feel like it. He’s not sure if it’s the noise or the smell. Or because Bucky isn’t here, walking side-by-side with him.

The Empire State Building is right before him though, so he can’t deny that. The city itself is brighter, and yet Steve’s world remains just as dim. What was the point of seeing color if he could never lay eyes on Bucky again?

They say that the world is no longer at war, and that they won. A surrender. He hadn’t thought of it as a possibility back then, but hearing that Hydra had been defeated? But it doesn’t explain why he’s alive. Suspended animation is what they call it.

It sounds like hocus pocus.

They say that the world could still use him. That there’s still work to be done. Then, they hand him back the one thing still left from his time. The shield is tattered and dirty, smudged with the brutality he’d unleashed after the war took Bucky from him. He remembers, in bits and pieces all at once — Bucky, Erskine, Bucky, shield, Bucky, Peggy, Bucky — and it makes his head hurt. Rubbing his temples, he takes a deep breath to orient himself.

“Take your time. God knows if anybody’s earned it, you have. All the same…There’s a place for you on the team.”

He nods and shakes Fury’s hand, but doesn’t give him an answer. He’s not sure he’s ready to go back to war, he’s not even sure he’s ready to be standing in this century. He’s definitely not ready to be alone again.

They mistake his hesitancy for something else, because they give him the files. The Howlies – his family. He knows what each one of them will likely say, and he can’t quite bring himself to read any of it. He likes the last memories he has of them — alive. Covered in grime but young and vibrant. Laughing and teasing each other, talking about their hopes and dreams, where they’d end up in ten years.

Steve had said wherever Bucky is. But that didn’t quite stick, did it?

He hopes that each of his men got what they had wished for, as if somehow his loss — the greatest loss, in his opinion — was enough to even the scales for everyone else to live long, happy lives.

He hands the files back to Fury — all but one — untouched and as crisp as he had received them. When Fury raises an inquiring eyebrow, Steve deflects.

“Where do I sign up?” He asks, and Fury pauses before telling him to be here tomorrow morning. Steve nods once, turns and leaves with a straight back and stiff shoulders, military through and through.

Fury shuffles the dossiers in his hand. Jones, Morita, Dugan, Falsworth, Dernier… As suspected, Barnes’ folder is the only one missing.

  2014: Washington, USA

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Steve never thought five words could do so much damage to his heart. It tears him apart because he revisits that day over and over again. Each time, a new scenario plays out. What if he’d just gotten up faster? What if he hadn’t deflected that shot to rip open the side of that railcar?

The world moves in slow motion, things and people moving around him noisily.

“Drop the shield, Cap!”

What if he had just looked for Bucky? How could he have possibly let himself leave Bucky behind like that? Not even a body to bring home to bury?

“Get on your knees! Get down, get down!”

What if he had just noticed sooner? What if, back in 1943, he’d paid more attention to Bucky? Surely, there must have been signs.

“Down! Don’t move.”

So what if they take the shield from him? So what if they handcuff him on national television? So what if they put a gun to his head while he’s on his knees?

He feels none of it.

Who the hell is Bucky?

He feels pain.

✧✧✧

Sam looks down at the cuffs, heavier than they are. He feels dread and hopelessness, but there’s still fight in him. He wants to finish what they started, except he’s not really sure what that means anymore.

Finding out that the Winter Soldier is Steve’s best friend put a wrench in things. He looks to Steve, who hasn’t said a word and has barely blinked. He nudges Steve’s foot to get his attention and raises an eyebrow in question.

“It was him,” Steve mumbles sullenly. “He looked right at me… Like he didn’t even know me.”

“How is that even possible?” Sam asks, genuinely trying to understand if Steve is certain or if Steve is hoping. “It was like, seventy years ago.”

The chances of finding one super-soldier from the 1940s was already bizarre, Sam can’t imagine what the odds are of finding two.

“Zola,” Steve determines. “Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43, Zola experimented on him and whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must’ve found him and…”

Steve gets impossibly paler, and Sam has a pretty good idea of where his mind has gone. There’s a guilt there that Sam recognizes far too well — the feeling of watching someone you love plummet out of your grasp, and not being able to do a damn thing to save them. He wonders if Steve feels the same way about Bucky as he had about Riley.

He wants to reassure Steve that it’s not his doing, but Natasha beats him to it.

“None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

If Sam hadn’t been sure before, he damn well is now. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was definitely, absolutely in love with the very same person they were trying to stop.

God help him.

✧✧✧

Later, he finds Steve on the bridge, lost in thought with the look of someone mourning. He supposes, in a lot of ways, that is what Steve’s doing. The scenario they’ve somehow landed in boggles his mind. He can’t imagine what Steve is going through and he isn’t sure Steve knows how to handle it all.

“He’s gonna be there, you know,” Sam reminds him, not knowing if that’s supposed to be good news or bad news.

“I know.”

That’s not the voice of a man who’s ready to fight the love of his life.

“Look,” Sam sighs. “Whoever he used to be…” is gone. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s sure Steve knows what he’s thinking. “The guy he is now? I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the kind you stop.”

He expected Steve to get angry, or tell Sam he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He expected a fight.

Instead, he gets a somber-looking Steve, who shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Of course not, Sam wants to say. He saw it when the Soldier’s mask fell off, the way Steve had been so stunned, he hadn’t even moved. He sees it now, with the way Steve’s eyes glaze over as his mind is transported somewhere else — with Bucky.

“He might not give you a choice,” Sam cautions. “He doesn’t know you.”

He’s normally much more optimistic but there’s something wondrous about Steve’s spirit. The hope Steve holds. Sam would hate to see it crushed.

“He will,” Steve states, confident and without reserve, with conviction and absolute certainty. He does, after all, know the Soldier better than anyone.

How can Sam argue with that?

  2016: Bucharest, Romania

“I got a baaad feelin’ about this,” Sam whispers to Natasha, who’s perched on the edge of the building with him. She hasn’t taken her binoculars off of the unit across from them, even though the windows are all plastered with newspaper.

“What could possibly go wrong with Steve turning off his comms while he enters an apartment without a clear line of sight to face one of the world’s deadliest assassins, Sam?”

“Not helping,” Sam says in a flat voice. “You see anything?”

The responding grunt indicates she’s got nothing. Sam thinks she’s just as irritated and anxious as he is, on the inside, but just won’t admit it.

“I don’t like this,” Sam repeats, itching to activate his pack and just crash through the window. “What if Steve’s bleeding out on that dude’s carpet?”

“The Winter Soldier doesn’t really strike me as a carpet type of guy.” That, and the fact that she’s pretty confident Steve isn’t in any actual danger. If the Winter Soldier wanted to kill Steve, there have been plenty of opportunities. Not just the Potomac, but ever since they set foot in Romania.

She has no doubt that he’s been vigilantly looking out his window, doing perimeter checks. Old habits die hard, she would know.

Sam grumbles beside her, seconds away from barreling in there, when all hell breaks loose.

“Shit, I think that’s special forces,” Nat says, binoculars trained on the little fleet of incoming vehicles in the distance.

“Heads up, Cap,” Sam says into his earpiece “German Special Forces, approaching from the south. Nat’s got eyes on them.”

✧✧✧

“Understood,” Steve replies evenly, trying not to feel the bubbling frustration spilling over, because he knows Bucky’s behind him. He slowly turns around, and sure enough, there he is. Whole. Alive. Staring back at him.

“Do you know me?” He asks, even though he’s aware that any answer other than “yeah, you’re my Stevie” will crush him.

Bucky stares a moment, likely calculating, before he speaks. “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

“They’ve set the perimeter.”

Steve ignores Sam’s warning, eyes focused entirely on Bucky, trying to come up with the right words to get him to stay. Not stay here, but with Steve. He knows he’s not just Steve-from-the-museum, he just needs Bucky to accept the truth. “I know you’re nervous. And you have plenty of reasons to be. But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna,” Bucky defends himself, though in a tired, worn out way. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Steve says. “But it doesn’t matter right now, because the people who think you did it are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart,” Bucky replies with all the emotion of a brick. He nods in approval. “Good strategy.”

Steve can’t stomach the idea of anyone ever laying their hands on Bucky again. He wants to get on his knees and beg Bucky to come with him, but that wouldn’t work.

“They’re on the roof! We’re compromised.”

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

They both turn their heads at the stampede of footsteps outside the door. Steve’s run out of time.

“It always ends in a fight.”

There’s a loud thud, followed by another after a few seconds, the battering ram interrupting their conversation.

“Cap! Five seconds!”

“You pulled me from the river,” Steve says evenly, like they’re not about to be stormed. “Why?”

He knows why, he just wants Bucky to say it.

“I don’t know,” Bucky responds, his body still ready to take off at any minute.

It hurts, deeper than any wound, more painful than any torture, but he refuses to cave in. He refuses to give up on Bucky.

“Three seconds!”

“Yes, you do,” Steve pushes. I know you remember me. Say it, Bucky.

“Breach! Breach!”

Then, the world explodes around them. For a brief moment, he’s back at basic, the grenade coming at him. Except now, he has a shield to smother it, trying not to think about the fact that Bucky kicked it at him.

Bucky has always been tough, but he’s a force of nature now, strong and sturdy yet still quick as a whip. He kicks the table to the door and flings the mattress up to block an attack from the window, calculating and getting ahead of the cops.

Steve watches in a horrified sort of awe, doing his best to buy himself some time when Bucky slams a police officer into the wall.

“Buck, stop! You’re gonna kill someone.” The next second, he’s on his back, and his mind is transported to their previous helicarrier fight, looking up at Bucky’s raised fist.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky says calmly.

Steve can’t help the finch as Bucky brings his hand down, even though he’s never in his life shied from Bucky’s touch. He hears the crunch of splintering wood beside his ear and then Bucky’s gone.

He would rather die than let Bucky out of his sight again, so he follows. He chases Bucky through the apartment and down the stairs, and he refuses to give up when Bucky throws obstacles in his way to slow him down, like flipping officers over the staircase and forcing Steve to catch them. Even though he hates to admit it, it’s a smart move.

Still, Bucky underestimates him.

✧✧✧

After being spotted, Nat and Sam both spring up, ready to jump into action when they see the door of the balcony being kicked in by the operatives. There’s gunfire that can be heard across the street, which is never a good sign. There’s footsteps on adjacent rooftops too, which means they’re no longer safe and hidden. Sam grabs Natasha’s hand, about to fly them across.

Glass shatters from a nearby window, and then their earpiece crackles to life.

“Sam, southwest rooftop.”

Sam and Natasha look at each other, and she lets herself get wrapped up in Sam’s arms before they take to the skies.

“Steve? What floor?” Sam asks, but the earpiece remains suspiciously quiet.

Then, a backpack comes flying out of a unit above them, followed by a body.

Natasha knows it’s not Steve, given the outfit, but she wonders if the Winter Soldier’s recklessness actually rivals Steve’s. They watch as the assassin immediately rolls, picks up the bag and books it across the rooftops, faster than any human should.

A streak of navy blue follows, the shield strapped to Steve’s back catching the sun as he also rolls with his landing, chasing Bucky as they parkour over the city.

Special forces are now joined by local police and Nat can hear helicopters approaching.

“There,” Natasha says, alerting Sam to the predicted path of the soldier. She nudges him and points below. “Get me to that bike.”

He swoops, wings narrowing as he lands her beside the motorcycle in question, before tailing Steve as he makes for the underpass. She jacks the motorcycle as quickly as she can, joining the chase.

The highway is a disaster. Cars are being flipped, swerving to avoid hitting someone or something. Chaos breaks out in the city, until it all comes to a grinding halt, and they find themselves in a standoff.

One motorcycle flip, a masked cat man and a highly publicized arrest later, they’re now waiting for the psychiatrist to be done evaluating Barnes while Steve paces.

There’s something not right, she can tell almost instantly, but she isn’t sure how. Or what.

She’s curious, if perhaps Steve was right. That some part of the Winter Soldier recognizes Steve, and maybe even returns some of the sentiment.

While Steve tore apart the world looking for him, he surrendered for Steve. She’s not sure which of those is more dire, but she’s positive of one thing: the two of them, reunited, on the same page, are a terrifying duo.

She expected the worry and the anxious pacing from Steve.

Steve’s entire body is clenched up and he doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. She doesn’t blame him of course — his long lost partner is strapped down, confined in a glass cell with his arm being subjected to electromagnetic interference, which she’s sure doesn’t feel very pleasant.

What she didn’t expect was the psychiatrist unlocking Hydra’s secrets thought to be long dead.

✧✧✧

She rubs at her neck absentmindedly as they wait for the Soldier to wake up. Sam, beside her, does the same with his jaw. The Soldier had gotten them good. All of them.

“Told you he surrendered in Bucharest,” Nat murmurs. Though, it had been Bucky Barnes or at least the ghost of him, back in Romania. What Zemo had unleashed was certainly not Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam concedes. After a pause, he touches her elbow gently. “You okay?”

She nods, even if she’s not sure. “I remember him, you know? Back in the day.”

She doesn’t say much else, doesn’t like remembering the Red Room or anything associated with it. But the Soldier…

She can tell Sam wants to ask, he just knows better by now. “But he didn’t recognize me.”

“He didn’t recognize anybody.”

“I’m not so sure,” Natasha says with a tip of her head.

Sam follows her line of sight, to the two super-soldiers. “You think he’s really in there?”

She would have normally said no. That’s the logical answer, because she knows that Hydra sinks their claws in as deep as they can and they don’t let go. But she can’t deny the evidence — what she’s witnessing with her own two eyes.

“Nat, he did get knocked in the head pretty hard,” Sam tries to reason.

She thinks back to 2012, back to Loki worming his way into Clint’s mind and her “cognitive calibration”. Shaking her head, she knows that Sam hadn’t witnessed what she had. Not with Clint, not with Hydra. “If all it took was a knock to the head, don’t you think that’d be a bit of a liability while he was on missions? Besides, you kicked him in the back of the head clear across the road.”

Sam begrudgingly has to admit that she makes a good point.

Steve laughs softly at something Bucky says, and even more surprisingly, Bucky smiles back. Bucky smiles.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Sam mumbles under his breath, to which Natasha can only respond with a hum.

“I’m telling you, Sam, there was nothing there,” Natasha whispers, crossing her arms. “But this…”

There’s one thing that’s painfully clear, and it’s in everything — every move, every look, every touch and every non-touch. It’s in the way Bucky’s slumped, ashamed, trying to keep Steve away for Steve’s own sake. It’s in the way Steve inches closer still, undeterred. It’s in the way Bucky could summon old memories that nobody was sure he’d still have, and the way Steve’s eyes had instantly teared up, nodding along, confirming every word that Bucky says.

“They are sickeningly in love, aren’t they?” Sam asks, knowing the answer.

“They are beyond sickeningly in love,” Natasha confirms, a small smile forming on her face.

“They can hear you loud and clear,” Steve’s voice calls out from where he’s letting Bucky’s arm out of the vice grip.

Sam and Nat share a look, before helping Steve with the contraption.

  2017: Birnin Zana, Wakanda

He doesn’t miss the feeling of waking up from cryostasis, that’s for sure. Still, this time around it’s more gentle. Slower and more patient, like someone that doesn’t need a mission completed that very same day.

It’s a girl that he hears first — her voice is light, higher and childlike.

The next voice belongs to the king, low and soft. Soothing.

He’s being woken up by lullabies in comparison to Hydra, which is why he doesn’t immediately panic about the feeling of receding frost in his veins, the lethargy of his muscles.

It doesn’t burn when he blinks his eyes open, and his arms are free to move as he pleases, no restraints.

“Good morning, James.”

“S‘actually morning?” His words are still a little slurred, muscles in his face warming up.

There’s a soft chuckle, before the girl speaks again. “Not at all. But you are just in time for dinner.”

“This is my sister, Shuri,” T’Challa says. “She has been helping us formulate your rehabilitation program.”

Bucky’s brain feels like it’s slowly rebooting, and he should probably mention that eating after cryo seems like a terrible idea, but he’s taken aback by the room. It’s… bright. White, clean, smelling fresh. This is not the musty basement of some Hydra base.

A smoothie of some sort gets waved in his face and he takes it, not wanting to be rude. It smells amazing and his stomach lets out a low rumble, but he’s still hesitant.

“It will not upset your stomach,” Shuri tells him gently, letting go as he grasps it with shaking hands.

“Thank you,” he remembers to say.

“After you are done, let’s take a walk,” the king says gently.

The palace is gorgeous. It’s open and bright, vibrant with colors and shining with gold.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Bucky says eventually, feeling indebted. It makes his stomach twist — he doesn’t like owing people. Never has.

“No need,” T’Challa counters. “Please, think of this as your home for the next little while. We can accommodate you after your deprogramming.”

“D’you really think it’s gonna work?”

“My sister has never failed,” T’Challa answers. “You are in good hands.”

He repeats what he had said to Steve. “I’m not sure I’m worth all this.”

T’Challa seems to digest the words and consider them carefully before changing directions. “Let me show you something.”

Bucky follows him, mostly in silence that doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He takes the time to simply see. He watches T’Challa navigate easily, through a complex, underground system. The rushing roar of a train startles him at first.

“Where are we?” He eventually asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Right now we are under Mount Bashenga.”

Bucky watches the trains in fascination, smells the dampened moisture in the cave that they’ve entered, and follows T’Challa as they head towards a soft light above.

He takes a deep breath when they finally emerge, feeling his skin warm up again. The sight is breathtaking. He can see the forests and fields for miles, all kissed gold by the setting sun. It reminds him of Steve’s hair, of Steve’s smile.

The thought summons a sudden surge of emotion, as if it had been building inside him this whole time and it makes his voice crack. “This is beautiful.”

“It is,” the king agrees, lowering himself to sit.

Bucky follows quickly, not wanting to be at a higher elevation than the king for crying out loud.

“This was the last thing I could offer to my cousin, N'Jadaka,” T’Challa tells him softly. “I told him that Shuri could heal the wound I had inflicted on him, but he declined.”

Bucky wants to know the details, but he doesn’t push, letting T’Challa take him through the story of the one that would become known as Killmonger.

“He took his last breath here,” T’Challa concludes. “Even though it was his choice, I felt his blood on my hands for a long time after, but I still find myself here often.”

“I think I would too,” Bucky agrees. There’s something calming about the pleasantly heated hug of the sun while overlooking such a beautiful region.

“Please do.”

They sit together until the sun has given way to the starry sky.

✧✧✧

Steve is nervous about landing. Yes, there’s a fight coming — a big one, at that. But, he can’t stop worrying about Bucky, wondering how he’s been and how the deprogramming is coming along. He’s only received updates here and there, but they’ve kept him in the loop for all the big steps.

He had very nearly flown back here when T’Challa informed him they were planning on taking Bucky out of cryostasis. Now, with the lush forests and vast expanse of rich land beneath them, he feels his anxiety ramp up. He’s so close and yet so far.

When they land, he immediately greets T’Challa. “Seems like I’m always thanking you for something.”

It goes unsaid, but he’s sure the king knows just how much he’s dying to see Bucky.

“So how big of an assault can we expect?” T’Challa asks, bringing Steve back to business.

“Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault,” Bruce answers for him.

“How are we looking?” Steve asks in return.

“You will have my King’s Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and —”

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man.”

Steve’s heart soars at the familiar voice — this one softer and lighter, like the Bucky he grew up with and less like the Winter Soldier. He doesn’t waste a second, walking toward Bucky to meet him in the middle, even if he’s not entirely sure Bucky would welcome the touch.

The tender smile is inviting enough that Steve goes for it, arms outstretched, dying to hold Bucky for the first time in far too long.

“How ya been, Buck?”

“Eh, not bad, for the end of the world,” he replies easily.

Steve tears up then, because if it truly is the end of the world, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be and nobody he’d rather be with.

He doesn’t see Natasha and Sam exchanging looks, or T’Challa’s small, knowing smile.

He doesn’t see anything except Bucky. “I missed you, Buck.”

✧✧✧

“I can’t thank you enough, Your Highness,” Steve says the moment Bucky goes to greet Sam and Natasha, making his amends and starting anew with them.

“It was my pleasure,” T’Challa responds. “Shuri always loves a good challenge, I think it is going well.”

Steve lets out a huge breath of relief. “You… You have no idea how much that means to me. Us.”

✧✧✧

Snap.

That’s all it takes to tear the world down.

“What did you do?” Thor demands of Thanos. “What did you do?!”

Thanos vanishes before their eyes, leaving them with no answers and a feeling of dread.

“Where’d he go?” Steve asks as he’s looking around, trying to see what’s changed, trying to determine if Thanos’s threat was real.

Nobody knows, but Steve still turns to Thor, expectantly. “Thor, where did he go?”

Everything looks the same, smells the same…

“Steve?”

Bucky’s name dies in his throat as he watches the unspeakable happen.

No, no, nononono!

He lunges forward as he watches in horror while Bucky disintegrates before his eyes. The shine of his eyes dulls as he stumbles, limbs evaporating into dust.

“BUCKY!”

He falls to his knees as Bucky literally slips through his fingers. Amongst the shouts for friends and family echoing through the forest, he hears his own anguished cries.

Thor is speechless, Wanda heartbroken, Vision dead. The loss is devastating.

It feels like all the oxygen has left his lungs and all the life drained from him. He wants to lay down, right here on top of Bucky’s ashes, but it feels too close to admitting that Bucky’s gone. No, he can’t give up yet.

“Hang on, Buck,” he promises to the empty space where his heart and soul had been. “I’m coming for you.”

[savagegood]

sometimes the knowledge you gain on twitter is both blessed and cursed

also his likes are sending me:

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Double Trouble

Pairing: Stucky x F!reader

Warnings: MDNI (SMUT 18+), dom!Bucky, soft dom!Steve, sub!reader, dry humping, spitting, masturbation, double penetration, degradation kink/name calling (slut to reader), praise kink, threesome, I think that’s it but lmk if I missed something

Length: 1.5k

Summary: Bucky will only allow you to let go if you have been good.

A/N: Thank you so much for the support on my last Stucky post!

MDNI! 18+ ONLY! I cannot control what you consume so you have been warned!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You never imagined your life would turn out this way. You never imagined that you would be an Avenger, that you would have some sick ass powers, or that you would be in a relationship. The best part is that you didn’t have to stick to just one man, you had two very handsome super soldiers to keep your bed warm at night.

You gasp as you feel Steve bite the small area where your neck and shoulder meet. He quickly licks over it and places a small kiss to relieve the pain.

“Steve…” You moan out his name.

Steve silences you with a kiss on your lips. You lean into him, pushing Steve to sit on the edge of the bed. Once he sits down, you straddle his lap. You push your pulsing core onto his hard and clothed cock.

Steve hisses, pushing you down by your hips and lifting his. “There you go Honey, you’re being such a good girl.”

You moan at his words. “Please Stevie, I need more!” You whine.

“Don’t listen to her Steve, she has a whole lot more begging to do.” Bucky chimes in from his spot on the bed.

Bucky lays on his typical side of the bed, the left. He has his left arm propped behind him, his shirt off, a pair of gray sweatpants on, and his right hand in his boxers. His long hair is pulled back into a bun and his beard is long from not shaving in weeks.

You turn your head to look at Bucky. You can see the small movements his hand is making. He’s jerking himself off but he doesn’t want to come just yet.

“Please Bucky, Stevie said I was being a good girl!” You beg.

Bucky tilts his head to the side as Steve continues to kiss your neck. “You haven’t proven anything yet, Doll,” Bucky smirks at you.

You continue to grind down on Steve’s dick, chasing your orgasm. You weren’t close by any means, but any movement would bring it closer.

“Doll, you look pathetic trying to get off on Stevie.” Bucky laughs at you.

You moan at his words and feel Steve get harder. You lift your arms and Steve lifts your shirt off. He continues to lift his hips to meet yours as he rips off your bra and looks at your breasts. Steve licks his lips before putting his mouth onto one of your tits. He lightly grazes your nipple with his teeth before licking it and then gently sucking. You moan and arch your back, pushing your breast further into Steve’s mouth.

“Please Stevie, please make me feel good!” You moan, sounding breathless.

“Be a good girl and I’ll let Stevie make you feel good,” Bucky tells you.

You look at him and see that he’s moving his hand faster, a sign that you were being a good girl. You continue to roll your hips onto Steve, allowing him to be the one in control. Steve switches breasts, making sure to give it the same treatment.

You feel the familiar knot in your stomach. You know you can’t let loose without Bucky’s approval or without Steve feeling equally as good.

“Stevie…. Bucky… I’m about to-!” You can’t let the words out, too focused on moaning.

Steve releases your breast from his mouth and turns to Bucky. “Should we let her?”

“Hmmm…. Do you think she’s been a good enough girl?” Bucky asks as he watches your hips move more erratically, trying to find some relief.

Steve lets out a moan as you rub him in the right spot. “Mmh… She’s been an angel Buck. Maybe after I’m done with her you can try her out.”

You moan at the sensation. The boys talking to each other like you weren’t there made you feel something. As well as his hard cock hitting your cunt in the most delicious way.

“Ok, you can let her come.” Bucky finally agrees, moving his hand at the same speed you’re thrusting your hips.

“Yes! Thank you, Bucky! Thank you!” You moan in excitement as Steve goes back to kissing your neck, this time massaging your tits with his hands.

The room is filled with your impatient moans, Steve’s heavy breathing, and Bucky jerking himself off. You start to feel your orgasm coming, the familiar pull exciting you.

“Stevie, I'm so close! Yes right there! Keep going! Yes!” You moan.

Finally, you snap. You feel your orgasm course through you, your toes curling with pleasure, and the most filthy moan escaping your lips. Steve and Bucky follow behind you, feeling the relief you feel.

“Come here Doll,” Bucky motions for you to come to him.

You obey him, leaving Steve to ride out his orgasm. You crawl to Bucky and let him help you straddle his lap. One thing about these super soldier men, they can go all night.

“Are you going to be a good girl again and let me claim the sweet pussy?” Bucky asks, cupping your cunt.

You push yourself down harder, wanting him to take you. “Yes, Sergeant.”

“Good girl.” Bucky lifts you and walks over to Steve who already has his boxers off. “Stevie, why don’t you help our girl?”

Bucky sets you down and makes you stand between Steve’s legs. Both men help you out of your jeans and underwear before Bucky makes you widen your stance, placing your hands on his chest. Then you feel it. Steve’s long and thick finger is stretching your hole. Slowly but surely he stretches you out, adding one finger after the other until you are prepped for his cock.

“She’s ready Buck,” Steve says from behind you. You turn to Bucky and see that he is naked now.

Bucky helps Steve get his thick cock in you, making sure that the two of you are comfortable. You moan as his throbbing tip is at your entrance, feeling how good Steve is stretching you. Bucky then pushes you back onto Steve before settling above you, thrusting into your pussy without any warning. You let out a loud yelp that is followed by a moan.

Both men slowly pull out until only their tips are inside of you. They thrust back in, their hips flushed against yours. They repeat their movements, changing their speeds. Bucky would go fast while Steve would go deliciously slow, and vice versa. You moan pornographically, their movements being everything you want.

“Look at her Stevie, she’s a slut!”

“Makes me wonder why we fuck her and not each other, we don’t do around acting like a porn star, right Buck?”

“Mhm, that’s right Stevie!” Bucky wraps his left arm around your neck and gives it a light squeeze.

“Yes! Please! Treat me like a slut!” You moan.

Bucky leaves his hand around your throat but doesn’t squeeze. He gently moves your neck to the side before leaning down to kiss Steve. Bucky forces his tongue down Steve’s throat and he hums in approval. You moan at the sight. The super soldiers thrusting into you, treating you like a toy, but being into each other.

Bucky gently squeezes your throat once more. “You like that slut? Do you like us treating you like you’re not even here? You like that we’re fucking you because no one else will ever be allowed to touch you?”

You nod your head quickly, your breaths coming faster. You start to feel your orgasm coming again. Hearing Bucky degrade you and the slapping of your skin against both men brings you closer to the edge.

“We’re going to fill her Stevie. We’re going to make sure that the slut knows she belongs to us and only us.”

They both start to go in sync, almost as if they practiced it. Like they knew you would be a goner. 

“Yes, Bucky! Yes Stevie! Yes! Yes! YES!” You start to moan louder and louder. “Please, I'm so close! Let me come! Please!”

 Steve starts to kiss your neck again, biting hard. You moan and Bucky silences you, his tongue pushing past your lips. You lean further into Bucky, tasting Steve on his lips. Bucky kisses you like he’s starving and you’re his next meal. Bucky leans back and grabs your chin with his left hand. He tilts your head back and makes your mouth stay open. He then spits into your mouth, ordering Steve to do the same. Both men spit in your mouth multiple times before Bucky forces you to close your jaw.

“Swallow and I’ll let you come.” You gladly drink their spit.

Bucky nods at Steve and her reaches between your bodies until he gets to your clit. He plays with your clit, making sure that you can only feel pleasure. You feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach build up. Your toes start to curl with anticipation. You can tell that both men are close as well, their thrusts turning sloppy.

“I’m going to come! You moan out.

Bucky and Steve thrust three more times before you unravel. You yell their names as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Both men stay in you and thrust until they come. Bucky and Steve come at the same time, Steve holding the back of Bucky’s neck to pull him for a kiss. They kiss until every last drop of their come is in you.

“You are a good girl.” Bucky praises you.

[lavenderpanic]

There is no universe in which Steve went back in time and, instead of freeing Bucky or Isaiah or exposing HYDRA, he chose to marry Peggy and live a quiet life and ignore everything he found out about in the 21st century

[kurozawa46]

Steve & Bucky Express 🏍️💨

For uncut sexy version, please visit AO3 :D

[loverslodge]

please look at me like that

summery: your feelings got the best of you and you ended up emailing a lot of people to go out on a date with you. only the super soldiers responded and so you have a fake date with them. but was it really a fake date or was it just denial?

pairings: steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes (modern au)

warnings: ANGST CITY, LOADS OF FLUFF, lots of insecurity, clingy!bucky and jealous!steve (they are so much of a warning), implied smut but not really, lack of self-care

A/N: this is my first mini series. i am thrilled about this. i haven't been doing well with my love life which inspired this. i am not as bold as written so here's hoping for a positive love life outcome. i loved this idea and i was thinking of picking only one of them but i couldn't. i love them both equally.

this series is open for requests and may have future drabbles:

leading up to the date

the date

after the date

[jen-with-a-pen]

Cocoon

summary: A chance encounter one night at a house party sparks the hottest hookup Bucky and Steve ever have.

parings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

word count: 2.95k

warnings: BJs, hand stuff, partying, alcohol, drinking, making out in a bathroom at a houseparty, they're slightly intoxicated but it's all consensual I promise, gay gay gay gay, dirty talk, MDNI 18+

a/n: happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈 enjoy this WIP I've had brewing for a while now. also I love how i've been in another writing slump and the first thing I'm motivated to finish is some juicy gay p0rn. love that for me💅

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know! not beta'ed. any mistakes are mine.

gif by @/multiverse-sparkles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: Cocoon by Catfish and the Bottlemen Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Bucky Barnes doesn't know which is harder.

There's Steve, who's rutting up against his leg like a puppy, whining, desperate for friction and freedom while drunk on whatever the fuck is in the communal jungle juice. Steve’s flannel is draped over the tub, thrown haphazardly aside when he felt too hot and Bucky felt it was getting in the fucking way. 

There's Bucky, who's straining every muscle in his body in an attempt to keep himself from unzipping his fly and freeing his throbbing cock that Steve is pawing at greedily. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticking strands of hair to his skin as hot breaths fan his face and neck. He realizes his ponytail came loose somehow and his leather jacket is strewn about somewhere on the tile floor. He thinks he feels it at the tip of his boot so he kicks it aside to avoid it getting stepped on. 

And then there's the goddamned door, which Steve slams Bucky up against the second Bucky’s teeth find Steve’s tender earlobe. It creaks and groans under their weight, not at all prepared for whatever the fuck is happening right now. 

Then again, neither are they. 

Neither of them expected to walk into some mutual-friend-of-a-mutual-friend’s house party itching to leave the moment they stepped foot into the isolated cloud of weed and booze that seeped into their nostrils and clothing within the first ten minutes. They hadn't expected their two very separate groups of friends to somehow miraculously know each other, using the kitchen as the location for some shoddy, un-sober family reunion. 

It wasn't until one side challenged the other to billiards did Bucky and Steve locked eyes with one another, instantaneously recognizing something in the way seafoam green meeting bright baby blue made them feel an immediate pull towards each other. Maybe it was Steve's a-little-too-big flannel, a-little-too-tight khakis, and soft blond hair shining in every shade of gold in the mixture of ever-changing LEDs and sporadically-placed table lamps. Or, maybe it was Bucky's slim, dark denim jeans hugging every muscle in the thickest thighs Steve’s ever seen, completed with a black T-shirt, leather bomber jacket, and messy ponytail with loose threads of chocolate hair that framed Bucky's face perfectly. Steve felt his Adam’s apple bob every time those strands fell perfectly into place when Bucky leaned just a little too forward onto the table to aim his pool cue, biceps fighting against leather as he lined up his shot. 

Steve about snapped his stick in half when Bucky’s eyes flicked up to his as he jerked the pool cue, sinking two solids in at once. Steve’s pants tightened on the spot.

Steve, however, sought revenge– and got it, too– when he was the one to sink a stripe, then another, and another. Bucky’s eyes darkened, a smirk ghosting his lips at the challenge and his very attractive, very worthy opponent. 

Bodies ganged up in cheers and chants as the two tangoed with their pool cues, taking riskier and riskier moves. Bucky took a shot behind his back. Steve made one over his shoulders. Each time, one would look to the other a millisecond before taking a shot as if silently seeking approval and finding it in the dragging of one’s tongue slowly along their teeth (Bucky) or in the raising of a cocky brow and biting one’s lip (Steve.) 

When the 8-ball was pocketed, shots passed from hand to hand through the crowd to quench the palpable tension in the basement air. Laughter and cheering erupted, echoing off the wood paneled walls. Downing another shot, Steve side-eyed Bucky as sour vodka dripped down his chin. His brow twitched when Bucky’s gaze flitted to the stairs then back to Steve– signaling, asking, begging. Steve’s sideways grin and reddening cheeks were all the ‘yes’ Bucky needed. 

And so, as Bucky bites down onto Steve’s swollen bottom lip and releases in a painfully slow drag of his teeth, Steve is the first to break their shared silence.

“Ah– f-fuck, oh my God,” he pants, pawing at anything his hands can reach at this point.

“Fuck is right,” Bucky hisses against Steve’s neck as he nips the tender skin. “You up for a challenge, baby?” Bucky ruts up against Steve’s palm, swallowing a moan when the friction rubs in just the right way against his cock’s swollen, covered head. Steve’s heart goes into a frenzy. The liquid courage coursing in his veins kicks in.

“Got you up against a door now, don’t I?” Steve challenges as his teeth graze Bucky’s cheek. 

“Only if y’keep me here,” Bucky breathes, leaning his forehead against Steve’s. He pauses, taking in the macroscopic details of Steve’s reddened face. “I’ll make ya a deal.”

Steve smirks. “What kinda deal, hm?” His palm pushes further into Bucky’s erection, prompting an uncontrollable twitch and rumble of a swallowed groan. He’s got what Bucky needs and he needs what Bucky’s got. 

“You–” Bucky kisses him again, desperate, “get on your knees–” another kiss, “so I–” another, “can admire th’ view.”

Steve's eyes widen. His pants feel like a goddamn tent as Bucky kisses him once more, smacking his lips upon release. He cups Steve’s face, thumb rubbing gently over the blond’s swollen lips.

“If you do a good job, I’ll pay ya back in full.”

Steve drops to his knees in an instant. 

Bucky guides him with coos and ‘good boy’s as he undoes his belt and tosses it into the tub. Face to face with the daunting zipper, Steve glances back up at Bucky, Adam’s apple bobbing. Bucky softens, hand sliding from Steve’s messy blond mop to his chin, tilting him up. 

“First time?” 

Steve’s already-red face saturates deeper. He nods reluctantly, eyes flitting away from Bucky’s in embarrassment. Bucky scoffs a laugh and forces Steve’s gaze back to him; he’s careful to be gentle, but still firm. 

“I’ll help ya, baby. I’ll coach you through it.”

Steve’s bottom lip quivers. He shifts on his knees. “Y-you sure? ‘m sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Bucky commands, shaking Steve’s chin the tiniest bit. His smile falters as he bites down on his lip from the strain. “I’ll do anything if it means getting those pretty pink lips on my cock.”

Steve instantly sits up straighter. Bucky’s hand snakes back into Steve’s hair while the other unzips the front of his jeans ever-so-slowly. Steve can’t help but feel his fucking mouth water as he takes up the task of shakily unbuttoning the denim, releasing Bucky from the prison of his pants. Steve feels himself grow harder as he’s met with sleek, black Calvin Kleins conforming perfectly to Bucky’s hips, the front tents with tension from his throbbing cock begging for release. The branded white waistband shields a deep, carved ‘V’ leading up to the ghost of softened abs underneath the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt.

Steve swears he must be fucking dead– this must be heaven.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Steve falters as his eyes flit up to Bucky, catching a sultry, cocky wink thrown his way before focusing entirely back onto the task at hand. He wipes his clammy palms on the thighs of his khakis before sliding them up Bucky’s concrete thighs– both of which he’s very certain would crush his skull and he would be thankful– and hooking tender fingers onto the waistband. Adam’s apple bobbing, breath held, mouth watering, Steve peels the Calvins down and off Bucky, releasing the most mouth-watering, ecstasy-inducing, biggest fucking dick he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

Fuck. It’s the first dick he’s ever seen in his entire life. Aside from porn tapes and sleazy zines, that is. Bucky can’t help but puff his chest out, smirk widening, grip tightening onto the short length of Steve’s hair, prouder and hornier than he was before his pants came off.

“Told ya t’ take a picture, baby.”

Steve looks up at Bucky with hands still gripping onto his Calvins before dropping them to the floor. With a shaky sigh, he slides closer to Bucky’s leaking head glistening in the shoddy bathroom lighting. Fingers travel up Bucky’s thighs as fingernails gently dig into the oh-so-sensitive part of soft skin, sending a shiver up Bucky’s spine. His palm hits the base of his cock, wrapping around the base of it while his other hand gently takes Bucky’s sack. Stiff and at the ready, Steve leans closer and closer until the dripping wet, eagerly reddened tip hits his lips, poking through and sliding onto an awaiting tongue. Bucky groans and hits the door with a free fist. 

“F-f-fuck– oh my– fucking Christ–!” 

Curses and praises rain down on Steve as he obeys Bucky’s hips thrusting gently into his warm mouth. Steve’s tongue swirls around Bucky’s head as he starts to bob, setting the starting tempo and matching Bucky’s movements. His fist around the base tightens, sending more blood into his cock, in turn sending Bucky careening into the back of Steve’s throat. Steve sucks in, choking on Bucky’s cock and savoring every second of it. Tears brim his eyes as he slowly pulls back, drool dripping out his mouth and covering Bucky, who’s fist in Steve’s hair pulls at just the right angle, sending an uncontrollable moan up and out of Steve’s hoarse throat. 

He wipes his mouth and dives back in. 

“Fuck, Steve, I–”

The sound of his name spilling out of Bucky in a desperate call only motivates him and his own dick more than ever. Lips, tongue, and teeth graze over Bucky’s head as Steve bobs quicker this time around. Lips pucker around the shaft as he pumps and bobs simultaneously, undoing Bucky from the way his knees buckle against the back of the bathroom door. A guttural moan vibrates out from Bucky’s chest to his limbs, reaching Steve as he picks up the pace.

Steve nestles his mouth at the base of Bucky’s cock before fanning his tongue out across the girth and licking a wet stripe all the way up to the head, actively (and almost) killing Bucky. With both of Bucky’s fists raking desperately through his hair, both of Steve’s hands migrate once more, wrapping around Bucky and squeezing every ounce of precum out of his swollen red tip. Steve takes the opportunity to look up at Bucky for the first time and nearly ruins his own pants at the sight above him. 

Sweat-stuck hair frames Bucky’s panting, desperate face. His once-indigo eyes are no more, swallowed by lust-blow black pupils and fluttering eyelids; his Adam’s apple bobs hysterically, caught in a hurricane of pure pleasure and the pain of having to– needing to– restrain himself. His cheeks burn pink as shadows bury themselves in the crevices of his features. If Steve didn’t know any better, he fucking swears Bucky looks like a stolen work of art from the Louvre itself.

Bucky swallows, parting his lips ever-so-slightly. “Don’t stop– ’m so fuckin’ close, Stevie.”

The nickname snaps Steve out of his trance, the scene above him more than enough motivation to finish the job and finish it well.

Sore, puckered lips engulf Bucky’s swollen cock as Steve works at twisting both his hands in opposite directions, pumping and squeezing as he sucks and bobs to the rhythm of Bucky’s hips. His pace quickens, as does Bucky’s breathing. Neck muscles tighten and biceps strain as Steve feels his jaw beginning to lock. The back of his throat is numb from endorphins and adrenaline. He feels Bucky’s entire body freeze and instinctively removes his hands, reaching around and grabbing onto Bucky’s ass, pushing him into the deepest part of his throat just as Bucky finally releases. Hot ropes of cum shoot down Steve’s throat as he continues to gently suck, coaxing every single drop out of Bucky. His tongue laps at the excess spilling over his molars and swallows, making Bucky twitch and curse all over again.

The two of them are connected, forever a part of one another in this moment and the next; both are intertwined through body and soul, whether they might know it now, or not. Regardless, they are each other's firsts, whether they know it (Bucky) or not (Steve.) A trophy to keep in the back of their minds. A memory that makes them lie awake in bed at night with the ghost of a smirk on their lips.

Bucky, now fantastically ruined, allows his body to give out and slides down the length of the door, crumpling in a pleasure-drunken heap on the floor with his legs outstretched in front of him. His eyes don’t leave Steve’s, who is now sitting opposite of him, gagging and swallowing as he rests against the front cabinets of the bathroom vanity. His hair sticks up in different tufts, remnants of Bucky’s grabby hands. His face is the reddest Bucky’s ever seen. He feels his dick fucking twitch again. 

In echoing pants, both silently agree on two things: 1. how good the cool tile feels beneath their fingers, and 2. how they won’t acknowledge the fogged-up bathroom mirror. 

“Wow,” Bucky breathlessly utters. He cards a clammy hand through stringy hair, dropping it lazily into his lap.

Steve nods, swallowing again. “Wow.”

Bucky blinks. His eyes finally focus and follow from his own lap to his outstretched legs, to Steve’s folded knees and used, swollen face. He stares, taking everything in while he climbs down from the high. A smirk ghosts Steve's lips as he meets Bucky’s gaze. 

“What?” Bucky questions. 

“Wish I could take a picture,” Steve answers. Bucky snorts and shakes his head.

“Might as well. Hang it on the fridge or somethin’ for how good you did.”

Steve perks up. “I… did a good job?”

Bucky smiles, eyes wandering to the ceiling to avoid blushing more than he already is. He ultimately comes back to Steve before nodding. “Yeah. You did,” he smiles at Steve. “More than good.”

Steve feigns disbelief. “More than good?”

“Some would say great, even. Five star service.”

Steve scoffs a laugh. “Some?”

“Some being me, myself, and I.”

The two titter a moment more before another comfortable silence falls between them. Steve watches Bucky a second more before shifting to his knees again. Slowly, carefully, he crawls towards Bucky, closing the few feet of distance between them in seconds. Bucky sits up against the door and spreads his legs open, welcoming Steve between them, ignoring his semi-hard cock as it continues twitching. Steve stops inches from Bucky as the air shifts. Steve, still on all fours, peels his clammy hand from the tile and rests it on Bucky’s cheek, carding a couple fingers into his hair for good measure. He can hear Bucky’s heart beating, which he (correctly) assumes Bucky can probably hear his, as well, pounding against the marrow bars of his rib cage.

Seafoam green meets bright baby blue as Steve gently pulls Bucky closer. Soft lips meet one stubbled cheek, and then the other, before Steve pulls back as if to peer straight into Bucky’s soul. 

And Bucky is okay with that.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

“No, thank you.”

“You can thank me later like ya said.” Steve smirks. Bucky smiles. 

“That can be arranged.”

Finally, Steve pulls Bucky into him. Lips crash together once more, this time the hunger is replaced by lust and gratitude. It feels genuine. It feels right. Everything feels right. 

As Bucky leans more into the kiss, with his hands cupping Steve’s burning cheeks, a loud BANG BANG BANG kills any and all goodness within the bathroom that existed just second prior. The two flinch in each other’s arms as they scramble up and off the floor, frantically trying to find clothes and fix hair. 

“Yo! Buck? You in there? We’re fuckin’ leavin’, dude!” A voice calls from the other side.

Panic flashes over Bucky’s face as Steve hands him his belt. “Uh, yeah! Be right out!” 

“Well hurry the fuck up! Natasha’s getting grabby!”

Bucky and Steve listen for footsteps to recede before sharing a sigh of relief as they continue to clean up. 

“Why does Natasha get grabby?” Steve asks playfully, eliciting a louder laugh from Bucky now that they didn’t have to be totally silent any longer.

“Too much tequila. The girl can handle her booze but not without fatal consequences.”

Steve snorts at the thought. “Can’t say I blame her,” he winks. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and snorts back. “Me neither,” he smirks. 

As Bucky goes to grab the doorknob, Steve grabs his shoulder.

“Wait, I–” he starts. His cheeks bloom into a hues of pink again as he sheepishly looks at the floor. “Can I get your number?”

Bucky smiles and feels around his pockets for something, fishing a sharpie out from his jacket pocket. “Gimme your arm.” 

Steve obeys, offering his left arm to Bucky’s awaiting hand. Bucky cradles him as the sharpie drags across his skin, leaving behind a series of numbers large– and legible– enough to read. Steve pulls his arm back and analyzes the new temporary tattoo, committing each digit to memory in case something egregious happens to his arm from now until he gets home. He notices the area code and looks curiously back up to Bucky, who caps the marker and shoves it back into another pocket. 

“Bucky! C’mon, man! No, Natasha!” the voice calls again from the living room. 

Bucky gives Steve one last peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and striding down the hallway, leaving Steve standing in the threshold of the still-steamy bathroom with messy hair, a missing flannel, and a phone number inked onto his skin. The smile plastered on his face refuses to leave.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 2 The Princess

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly. Bucky and Lena’s relationship was partly inspired by that cuckoo half-sibling couple in The Crow 😅

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

Brighton Beach has always belonged to the Mob.

Decades ago, it’d been the Odessa Ukrainians who reigned supreme, but Bucky’s father was a weak man, and once he’d died and Bucky had taken over leadership of the Rusă-Română Bratva at nineteen, things had changed.

In the ensuing eighteen years, he’s not only seen to it that his faction rises to the top, he’s also been ruthless enough to ensure that their dominance is never challenged, his position as the Dragon of Hydra firmly cemented.

The Dragon’s Den is one of many businesses under his direct control. It’s a popular club in its own right, located on a busy strip of similar nightlife lining the two hundred block of Neptune Ave., and acting as the unofficial epicenter of Hydra operations.

Extra bouncers have been placed outside tonight to weed out the undesirables, but even with the modified guest list due to the night’s more … illicit activities, it’s still as packed as ever. The downstairs is filled with bodies, booze, and music in no time.

At first glance, it really could be any other night, but look a little further, and the incongruencies are readily apparent. Bucky’s had everything set up in the back, a space no more than ten feet by ten. It’s just a corner, not some stage or grandiose point of focus. It’s not like they have the lights all trained on them or anything dramatic like that. Viewing isn’t mandatory by any means. … But what he’s doing is also right there for anyone who wants to look over and see. And he’s under no illusion that every single soul present doesn't know what’s going on—either because they’re watching it, or because they’re making sure to pointedly not watch it. Tongues have been wagging ever since they'd tied up Gleb and dragged Lena out.

He starts with Gleb, putting all his “tools” within view of the poor bastard but not using much more than his fists and his words. He gets a gut punch in, breaks a finger or two. Kid stuff. Bucky’s never been overly enthusiastic about torture, but you don’t hold control over any faction of organized crime if you can’t at least make yourself comfortable with it. Bucky can appreciate it for what it is, and for the nastier stuff he’s got his specialists. Besides, sheer terror and anticipation can be just as crucial to putting on a good show as anything else. Gleb’s been a crying, sniveling mess since three minutes in, so Bucky’s halfway disgusted and halfway satisfied. Mostly, he’s just discouraged that his little one has been letting such a weak man stick his prick in her. Ugh.

He takes his time, stepping away to have a drink or to chat with someone every once in a while. Bucky usually enjoys his Friday nights lounging and socializing amongst his friends and associates, after all, and he’s not about to sacrifice his entire evening to Gleb.

The Den is Bucky’s home away from home. He even has private quarters above—an amenity he’s taken frequent advantage of after many a night spent overindulging. In his youth, when he’d been new to power and Polina had been nothing but an irrelevant child of his father’s second wife, the luxury accommodations had hosted Bucky’s escapades with dozens of the most beautiful women that Brooklyn had to offer.

But that lifestyle changed once Lena came of age eight years later.

Bucky hasn’t touched another woman—hasn’t wanted to touch another woman—in the decade since, his obsessive love for her often resisted but always returned, despite her token protests. It’s an open secret, considered fodder for gossip amongst the wives. Bucky doesn’t see why anybody should be shocked. He’s always wanted things that he knows are off limits. His little one included.

She’s finally back, and Bucky is more thrilled at that than he is about anything else. Of course Gleb’s betrayal can’t go unaddressed, but Bucky’s working him over more out of obligation than any true recreational interest. He’s got him tied to a pipe. The man is panting and breathing open-mouthed at this point, some of his blood on the plastic sheeting from the fist he’d taken to the nose to start off their evening together. He’s sweating through his undershirt like a pig.

Bucky himself has been naked from the waist up ever since Natasha returned to deliver the requested transfer sheet and blithely remarked that he was “seeping” through his shirt. Normally, aftercare would see her slathering him in ointment and taping bandages over the raw skin, but Nat’s pissed at him and she’s not offering, and he’s pissed at her for being pissed at him, so he’s not asking. He just chucks the shirt when it becomes a lost cause to the blood, plasma and sweat. Whatever. It's hot in here, anyways. And he knows Lena is looking her fill whenever he turns back on her to go focus on Gleb, which is even more satisfying.

It’s because of her that he hasn’t done anything too gruesome. As a rule, Bucky usually leaves the worst of his torturing to those who have a better taste for it (the widows). And while he fully intends to make Gleb hurt before he’s given his very own pair of cement shoes, Bucky still doesn’t want to do anything too traumatizing in front of his main audience.

He walks back over to where Steve has her. He’s been holding her still against his chest, Bucky’s own tie looped around her neck and gripped in Steve’s fist behind her back, his other hand wrapped around her waist to keep her still as she plays her part in the demonstration.

Bucky stands mere inches in front of her and sips his drink, letting his eyes rake over her form. “You haven’t been eating enough, sweet pea. We’ll have to fatten you back up.”

Her lip curls. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Takes one to know one.” He leers at her even longer for the snark, letting his free hand trail lightly along the curve of one silk-covered breast. She’s small. Barefoot like this she barely comes up to his chin. But she’s got a fat ass and a bitty waist that’ve always made Bucky want to do bad things to her, even when they were younger. Lena is blonde like her mother had been, with pale skin and other Nordic traits that set her apart from the darker hues and Slavic features that most of Bucky’s family sport.

How could he ever have been expected to keep his hands off of something so tempting?

She’s beautifully disheveled right now: hair fallen loose from however she had it up before Belova tranqued her and Pietro stuffed her on a jet, body barely kept decent in some slip of a dress that Steve’s put her in, tears already making her mascara run in grey-black tracks down her cheeks. Bucky’s always had a kink for watching pretty girls cry. “You should smile,” he tells her, mocking her by sticking his lip out in a pout. “People’ll think you aren’t having fun. This is your party, after all.”

“What are we celebrating?” she says, her effort at sass somewhat hindered by the waver in her voice. She’s not as brave as she wants him to think she is, but the front she insists on putting up makes Bucky’s heart twinge in fondness. His stubborn puppy.

“We’re celebrating your glorious and long-awaited homecoming, of course,” he coos. “All these nice folks? They showed up just to welcome you back.” He leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering there to whisper right against her skin, “And I missed you too, sweet pea. You got no idea how much.” He feels her shiver before she hisses at him, like a cat. He pulls back and gives her an assessing frown. “You’re so uptight,” he scolds. “Never did know how to let go and have a good time. I’ve always had to help you relax, haven’t I?”

Her pale skin colors beautifully. It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does she tries to hit him where it hurts, simpering a snotty little, “Oh, I don’t know. I was having a pretty good time on your yacht.”

Anger sweeps through Bucky, white hot and thrilling. Little Polina Barnes thinks she’s good at pissing him off. She is, but she’s got no idea how much her brattiness turns him on, too. If she did, she might think twice about opening her smart mouth (and Bucky can’t have that, he’d be so bored). Aside from her new penchant for leaving the flipping country, he’s always kind of enjoyed the thrill of hunting her down and dragging her naughty butt home.

But Belize is taking it too far. His yacht is taking it too far. And letting another man touch her is way beyond too fucking far. Bucky needs to reel his Little one in.

He sets the rim of his glass to her lips, tutting when she only glares up at him. “Don’t be that way, Lena. C’mon, have some. I want to see you loosen up a little.” She just presses her lips tighter together, and Bucky feels his cock thicken in his pants as he imagines using it to pry that prissy mouth wide open. He gives her a knowing smile. “No? Hm.” He finishes off the drink himself and sets it aside. He grabs her face and thumbs roughly over her lower lip, smearing the matte red of her lipstick down onto her chin. “Have it your way, Puppy. Steven?” he says, not looking at the man holding her still. “You’ve got our party favors?”

“In my left pocket,” Steve says, not reaching for them himself because he’s holding Lena’s waist and the tie wrapped around her throat. He’s not choking her, but the pressure on her neck has another effect. Bucky knows a few dirty secrets about his Little one that he’s sure she wishes he didn’t, namely that having a firm grip around her neck gets her wet. Bucky smirks and keeps his eyes on hers as he takes the liberty of reaching around her body and slipping his hand into Steve’s pocket. His fingers find the small shapes and close around them.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back and holding the items up for Lena to see, chuckling when her face goes slack in shock. Her cheeks darken in a fierce blush and she starts tugging against Steve’s hold with renewed effort. It gets her nowhere of course, and Bucky and Steve share a brief amused look from over her shoulder. Bucky steps closer and pins her between them, hands stroking over her shoulders. “You didn’t think I brought you here just to watch Gleb get his, did you sweetheart? Oh, no.” He shakes his head slowly. “Mm mn. You’re gonna get yours, too.” He puts his lips to her ear and looks in Steve’s eyes while he whispers, “How long do you think before you’re cumming in front of all these people?”

Her struggles intensify, and she tries to head butt Steve behind her, but of course she’s too short for it. She huffs when his grip only tightens and she runs out of steam. “Ugh!”

“Don’t fight it,” Steve tells her, and she sneers back at him.

“Still playing the loyal dog, Steven?”

“Eh, I prefer attack dog. But sure.” He winks at Bucky and bares his teeth in a fake snarl. Bucky laughs. He really does love Steve.

“Ugh! Lemme go, you pathetic dumbass!”

“Hey. Don’t you be mean to Steve. He’s only doing his job.” Bucky puts the smallest of the three party favors in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue and gripping Lena’s jaw hard to force her to open up for him. He shoves his tongue in, delivering the pill against her will and moaning theatrically to make her even more outraged. He holds her mouth shut after, pinching her nose until she finally capitulates and swallows. Only then does he allow her to have air, tutting in mock sympathy as she regains her breath. “What’s the matter, puppy? What’s got you so worked up, hm? I know it’s not whatshisface back there. Is it just being back home?” He cradles her face and murmurs tenderly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her face crumples and she sobs a little, the sound hardly audible in the room's loudness, but Bucky couldn’t possibly miss it when he’s this tuned in to her. He kisses her again, this time very gently, letting their lips rest together for a moment afterwards; and he can feel the way she has to fight the urge to lean into it, to seek more. She absolutely despises him, but she has an enduring need for him as well, and she’s never been very good at hiding it.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathes, his own desire winning out over the game for just a moment. “Please. What’s it gonna hurt to admit it?

“I hate you.”

“Mm. I know, Love, I know.” He brushes his lips against hers. “But you missed me all the same. Missed this.” He lets his hand trail down between her legs, working up underneath the silk of her slip. She whimpers and begs tearfully,

“No! Bucky, don’t.”

"Don't?" His fingers trail over the seam of her panties and he hums knowingly. "Your fancy panties are getting wet, Sweetheart. Did you wear these for me, or for your loverboy back there?"

“People will see!” she hisses.

“So? Let them see. You think anyone's going to step forward and stop me? Hm? Think somebody in this room is going to tell their дракон that he can’t touch what’s his? Because it’s what? Indecent?” He chuckles, thoroughly enjoying her humiliation. “Mm mn. You know that’s not happening, Princess.”

“Don’t. Please. Just … not here. Take me upstairs.”

For a second, Bucky actually pulls back to look at her face. But then he sees what it is she’s uncomfortable about, her pained expression flicking over to Gleb’s bound form behind them. Bucky feels jealous rage shoot through him. He’s always been meaner when he’s jealous. “You don’t want him to see?” he grits, then forces himself to soften his tone. “Oh, no no no. You can’t hide it anymore, puppy. Not from him or anyone else. I know what you like,” he reminds, cruel and quiet. “You know just how well I know.”

He’d bugged her devices starting when she was fifteen. He knows every dirty thing she’s ever watched, from the time she first learned how to touch herself. And his Little one knows this because he’s told her. It’d been the most satisfying moment of his life, when he’d told her that he felt the same way and watched the shock and mortification bloom on her face. That was the day he’d finally made her his—though he’d forced her to admit every single one of her filthy little fantasies out loud before he laid her down and took her virginity.

“I know how you like to feel owned,” he whispers in her ear, thrilling at the hitches it elicits in her breathing. “How you like to feel watched while powerful men touch you. What better way to satisfy those urges than by being taken by the Dragon, right in front of all his men?”

“Please don’t. You can’t.”

“What can’t I do?” he purrs, and she cries softly,

“You can’t, please. Because they know …”

“They know what?” he coaxes, wanting her to say it. He peeks up and looks at Steve from over her shoulder. “Know that you’re my sister?” he whispers. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky's mouth curls. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you either, puppy. You and I both know your affinity for all those naughty step-sibling videos.” She whines miserably and he hushes her. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually a really popular genre. Number … seven, on Pornhub?” He kisses her cheek. “Right up there with M/F/M threesomes.”

Adorably, her breath catches and she stiffens against Steve’s body, now even more aware of his hulking form behind her.

Bucky hums, pleased. “There’s no need to be ashamed.” He peels her panties to the side and slips the tip of one finger along her lips. She’s not exactly soaked, but she’s not completely dry, either. “Of course, actual brother-sister incest isn’t quite as popular, but we know there’s a niche market for everything, don’t we?” Lena makes an outraged little sound that goes straight to his dick. He leans back enough to watch her expression as he holds up the second of the party favors for her to see. It’s white and thin, less than two inches long, and shaped like an itty bitty torpedo. “Something else to help you loosen up,” he tells her gleefully. “Do you want to take a guess where this one goes?”

She makes an adorable ‘meep’ of a sound and clamps her legs closed over his hand. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “Aw, good guess, little sis’, but not quite.”

“Step-sister,” she corrects shakily. “Bucky ...”

He smiles as he tries to read her, confused and tentative at first, but then growing into something devious. “Oh, I see. You’re honestly embarrassed about that? That people know we grew up together, shared the same house? Mmm." He licks his lips. "That’s not all we shared.”

"Stop it."

He watches her, thrilling in a huge surge of lust mixed with something dark and nasty. “Wow,” he astounds, goading her. “Oh boy. Just think what you’d do if they all knew the truth.”

“Bucky please.”

“Steve knows, you know. I told him forever ago.” He watches her eyes go wide and her body stiffen against Steve’s.

“You … you told …”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet pea. He thinks it’s hot, too.” Lena looks honestly too shocked for words, and Bucky leans down to give her an absolutely filthy kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and holding her jaw there for it while, between her legs, he drags the suppository through her moist folds. She squeaks, and he pulls back. He lets her see him handing it to Steve. “Will you do the honors, pal?”

“What?” Lena breathes, lost. The sweet, dumb thing.

Steve keeps hold of the tie wrapped around her neck, but he has to let go of her waist to get at her. Bucky’s able to grab her just as she starts to try and fight it. “Ah ah ah, hold still,” he coos, yanking her wrists down at her sides in an iron grip. He steps even closer, squeezing her between his body and Steve's to subdue her wiggling, pressing his thigh forward between her legs. She freezes when her fighting just puts more pressure on her clit, and Bucky hums, pleased. “Good. Be a good girl now, Lena. We don’t want this to hurt.”

She goes straight back to struggling, and Steve shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. Bucky growls and sticks his face in her hair, warning lowly, “You know: there’s a syringe of morphine waiting in the wings for your boy back there.” Lena stills again, and he hums, “That’s right. Now, if you want him to actually get it before I let the widows have at him, then you’d better stop fighting and take what’s coming to you.” She sobs at the corner he’s got her backed into, but she doesn’t go back to fighting them. Bucky keeps her in his firm grip so that Steve can get to work behind her. “And you were wrong, puppy: It doesn’t go in your pussy.”

It’s too late for her to react. By the time her eyes widen in realization, Steve’s hand is already at her backside.

Bucky grinds his thigh forward as her pupils expand from the feeling, the bundle of aphrodisiacs summarily pushed up inside her tight little pucker. “You keep that in, now,” he warns. “You should start feeling it in the next few minutes, then I’ll give you your real consequence.”

She sobs quietly. “I hate you.”

“Old hat, baby.” He steps away from her, leaving Steve to keep her in place. The promise of lessening Gleb’s upcoming pain seems to be motivating her to behave. Bucky walks back over to the pole where he's got the sad sack tied up. Just to scare the crap out of him, he spends a moment tracing all the different tools that’ve been laid out for their use.

“Please,” Gleb begs.

“Shshsh,” Bucky coos, stepping close and cradling his face, intimate. “You fucked my baby sister,” he says. “What did you think was going to happen when I got a hold of you, hm?” Gleb trembles in his bindings and Bucky reaches for the pliers—a classic. Gleb’s eyes all but bug out of his head. “Colectăm mereu,” Bucky purrs in Romanian, reminding him who he’s dealing with. “You stole from the Bratva, son. Now you have to pay the price.”

“Please. I-I’ll do anything!”

He punches him in the gut, then grabs him by the hair and hisses in his face, “You already did everything! Took what belonged to me. Not very smart.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He punches him again. "I sure hope that pussy was worth it.” He smiles while Gleb is trying to regain his breath. “Eh, it probably was. I should know.” Gleb squints in disbelief, and Bucky feels another perverse thrill shoot through him. “What?" he laughs. "Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you she likes to fuck her brother?”

Gleb’s face screws up. “Stepbrother.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of that misconception,” Bucky drawls, turning back around to get a look at his Little one’s face. Her head is tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, the drugs working into her system by now. Bucky grins. “I told you I’d get you to loosen up, didn’t I? Big brother knows how to make you relax.” He tosses the pliers aside and saunters slowly back over to her. "I just told Gleb about us,” he says. “But I think it’s about time we make a more public announcement, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Her eyes widen. “Bucky, no.”

He grins wolfishly and spins around. He calls out to get everyone’s attention, and in a few seconds everything has quieted, the room eerily devoid of chatter despite the continuing pulse of the club’s music. Bucky goes over to the bar and demands something to toast with, and a flute of champagne is produced with shocking speed. He turns back to the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to help me welcome our beloved Polina back home!”

Some people clap, perhaps expecting some long, heartfelt speech. But Bucky cuts to the chase and says, “I’m sure you all know about she and I.” He waits, amused and sipping the champagne. When the crowd shifts nervously, he waves his hand at them and scoffs. “I mean that’s common knowledge, right? Everybody’s tongues were wagging when my father dumped my mother to marry his whore.”

He gestures back to where Steve is holding Lena, supporting her increasingly drugged little body. “Sweet little Polina was only a few years old, back then. And my dad’s infidelity wasn’t her fault." He shrugs. "So I inherited a bratty little sister. I guess the fact that we were still both kids makes the whole thing even juicer, huh? I know you all talk about it: 'The Dragon likes to fuck his own step-sister'. How scandalous.”

He laughs and walks back over to Lena. He caresses her face, leaning in to give her a dirty kiss with plenty of tongue. The crowd murmurs louder. Bucky pulls back and looks out at the room. “The Bratva wives love a good scandal. Don’t you, ladies?” A few of the wives in the crowd look flustered at being called out. Bucky salutes them with his champagne glass. “Well you’re in for a real treat, my dears. Because little Lena back here isn’t just my step-sister. Oh no.”

(Bucky’s always liked putting on a show, so he’s unfazed when making the actual announcement makes his cock harden further in his pants.)

“You see, dear old Dad was fucking around with his pretty shlyukha for a few years before he finally married her, and you know he even knocked her up.” The room goes absolutely silent, and Bucky feels a sick thrill go through him. “That’s right,” he croons, looking back over his shoulder at the stricken expression on his Little one’s face. “This sweet pea isn’t just my step-sibling: she’s my father’s daughter.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the crowd goes back to chattering, everybody staring wide eyed—some with disgust, others with excitement over this incredible new thing they have to be outraged over. Bucky shouts at the bartender to hand out champagne to anyone who wants it. He toasts the room. “To Polina!” Only a few dozen people raise their glasses and murmur in response, too shocked to know what to do in light of this revelation. Bucky really doesn’t give a crap. This is just a display of his power, just another way to show them—and her—that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody is going to do a thing to stop him. The room slowly returns to the bustle of before, and Bucky returns to stand in front of his girl. “See puppy?” he taunts, lifting the champagne flute to her mouth. “I told you nobody would care.”

It’s a lie. Everybody cares, of course. But his point has been made. He watches as she willingly drinks the champagne. “Good girl,” he praises, setting the empty glass aside. He cups Lena’s face and gives her a tender kiss. “Now, why don’t we give them a show, huh?”

“Bucky,” she whispers, a plea.

But he can see her body relaxing into Steve’s hold despite her mortification, the drugs softening her up just like Bucky’s been waiting for. He pulls the remaining party favor from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “Your punishment isn’t going to hurt nearly as bad as Gleb’s.”

He turns the base of the tiny pocket vibrator on and starts it buzzing. “Now, let’s get you really begging, why don’t we?”

Part 3

Masterlist

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[buckyismybicycle]

Title: precious Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags: Angst, Tentacles, Tentacle Monster Bucky, Forced Body Modification, Body Disfigurement, Mutation/Human Experimentation, Mind Manipulation, Brainwashing, Dub-con, aka Steve gets Dickmatized, Bottom Steve, Crying, Begging, Winter Soldier Bucky, Painful Sex/Rough Sex, Forced Orgasm, multiple orgasms, Breeding Kink, Cumflation, Belly Bulge, Bukkake, Multiple Penetration For:  @starspangledbigbang - a late addition to the 2022 Mini Bang! @allcapsbingo G2: "Bukkake" @stuckybingo, G5: "Tentacle Monster" @buckybarnesbingo Flash Bingo: "Kink"

Summary: During the fight in Lagos, Brock manages to make a deal for his life.

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

Steve watches as Rumlow’s face twists in a demented smile. “He knew you…. Your pal, your buddy.”

Steve takes a sharp breath in and holds it, willing his mind to stay level.

“Your precious Bucky.”

                                  READ ON AO3

[yourlocalaulibrary]

Peter Parker Needs a Hug Fic Rec's

Ongoing Peter Parker fics that are underrated and/or up and coming that deserve some more love! They all have the 'Peter Parker Needs a Hug' tag which is one of my favorites to explore. Mix of Batfam, Peter and Avengers, and Peter + other Marvel Heroes. All fics are currently over 20k words, enjoy! Links are the underlined titles, just click and read :D

1. Faith (Now that's a Strong Word) by mtopin:

Peter and Dick seem to always be one step ahead of the other, but if they both are it just leads them to run into one another. (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker & Dick Grayson, BatFamily Members & Peter Parker, Canon Divergence) Rec Reason: The author seems to have a good grasp on the dynamic between Peter & Dick, which helps in establishing their characters

2. He's Mr. Perfectly Fine by howls_library:

Peter is trying his best to be the leader of a new team of heroes while being mentored by the former avengers. He tries to take a page out of Tony's book to do so. (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes, X-Men References) Rec Reason: Some of the best dialogue between character's I've read, the plot is plotting and Peter is a standout character when given the leader role. Plus Irondad dynamic and future Bucky & Peter friendship according to the author, which I LOVE.

3. Come Down in Circles (And Guide Me to Love) by 221BroadwayIron:

Irondad and Spiderson are taken to new heights as Tony has to decide what exactly to do with a surprising new addition after the passing of Peter's aunt. (Other Notable Tags: Kid Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Avengers Family, Alternate Universe) Rec Reason: Kid Peter is something I adore reading and this is the epitome of Tony Stark has a heart. It is a fluffy little fic where it takes itself lightly.

4. Echoes of a Shadow by Somnis88:

Peter escapes Hydra with amnesia. He has so much to learn. Like how to be a typical highschooler, and how to balance all that with his newfound alter ego. A great twist on the past life trope. (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Harley Keener, Peter Parker is a BAMF Puppy) Rec Reason: The whole idea of having someone lose their memories is difficult to pull off but I think that this is a great take on the trope. Plus the character's in this fic are some of my favorites to incorporate.

5. The Wrecked and The Worried (My Responsibility) by Shieldmaidenshay:

A Peter in Gotham fic that is filled with a mixture of canon and headcanon per the author. A good story to read when you are needing something new! (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Has Issues) Rec Reason: While some may disagree with fanon or headcanon's I am completely fine with it when the author acknowledges that's what they are doing. This is exactly that.

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Pleasure

Pairing: Stucky x F!reader

Warnings: MDNI (SMUT 18+), oral (R+B), sex toys, masturbation, fingering, anal sex, degradation kink, praise kink, threesome, I think that’s it but lmk if I missed something

Length: 1139

Summary: You come back from a long mission to find Bucky and Steve in your bed. What could go wrong?

A/N: Hi! I’ve never written smut like this so any tips would be greatly appreciated! I also must say this: MDNI! 18+ ONLY! I cannot control what you consume so you have been warned!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You and Bucky agreed that you are it for each other. You couldn’t imagine your life being spent with anyone else. But you both agreed that you wanted to open up your sex lives. So you both agreed that letting Steve join the two of you wouldn’t be an issue. And it wasn’t. Steve may have crushed on Bucky in the 40s but he was over it and everything was purely sexual for the three of you.

So it wasn’t odd for you or Bucky to use Steve when one of you was away on a mission or only two of you could go.

Sweat drips down the boys’ bodies. All they can imagine is your perfect body between the two of them.

“Just thinking about her tight cunt,” Bucky grunts as Steve holds the fleshlight between his thighs.

Holding it with their hands didn’t have the same effect. They want to imagine how perfect you would be between them. With you sitting on Steve, his cock pushed deep into your ass, and Bucky on top of you, his cock deep in your pussy. Steve would thrust up making Bucky’s dick bury itself further into your slick folds.

Steve moans lightly as he holds his cock with one hand, trying not to get off on the image of you. Your breasts would bounce between the two of them, your nipples hardening with pleasure. One hand would be around Steve’s neck and the other would be on Bucky’s chest to hold yourself steady. And your mouth would be wide open with beautiful moans coming out.

“Bucky I’m going to come,” Steve whines, bucking his hips up.

Bucky starts to thrust faster, chasing his release. Quiet moans slowly become loud and messy. Bucky kisses the captain’s neck, leaving bite marks anywhere he feels. Steve moans once again and starts to pump his hand faster. Steve and Bucky start to meet each other halfway, thrusting to find their sweet releases. Until they hear the bedroom door close. They stop their thrusting and turn to the door. 

“Don’t stop just because I walked in,” You say as you drop your duffle bag.

The two boys look at each other before starting again. Their thrusts start slow, trying to torture each other. Soon, the room was filled with a slapping sound as their hips began to meet the others and with their loud moans.

You quickly begin to undress, not wanting to miss anymore. You join them on the bed and lie on your back. You spread your legs and start to tease your clit. You can feel how wet you are already, but you don’t want to come too soon.

As you circle your clit, you start to give the boys directions. “Steve, stop touching yourself and stop using the fleshlight.”

Steve whimpers a little before listening to you. With one last pump, he lets his dick out of his hand and spreads his thighs slightly to remove the fleshlight from between him in Bucky.

“Good boy.” You insert one finger into yourself but you don’t start pumping your finger. “Now I want you and Bucky to switch spots but I want Bucky to be on his hands and knees and you to be behind him.”

The two listen to you. Once they’re in their positions, you start to pump your finger in and out slowly.

“Good boys,” You moan. “Now Steve, I want you to use Bucky like he used you.” Both of them moan at this.

Steve scrambles to grab some lube before quickly squirting some onto his fingers. He pushes one finger into Bucky and Bucky shakes with excitement. When Steve adds a second finger into Bucky, you add another for yourself. You and Bucky moan in unison.

The room fills with the sound of you and Bucky getting pleasured and all three of your moans. You continue to follow Steve but stop with three fingers, knowing that you want to use something else to give you your first orgasm.

As soon as Bucky is properly stretched and prepped, Steve slams his hips into Bucky’s ass. You let out a loud moan, seeing your boyfriend being taken by his best friend.

You quickly reach to your bedside table to pull out a vibrator. The hum of the vibrator makes the boys finally look at you. You smirk as you let it collect your juices before pushing it into you. You can see the jealousy behind their eyes.

Almost as if it is a challenge to see who can come faster, Steve thrusts harder and faster into Bucky. He pulls at the slightly overgrown hair at the back of Bucky’s head causing him to moan at the pleasure. You arch your back as the vibrator hits a spot your fingers could never. You grab one of your breasts and squeeze. 

Quickly your hips start to move, imitating Steves. The boys continue to stare at how beautiful you look as you continue to chase your orgasm. Finally, your toes curl and your back arches as you let go. Your mouth is wide open as you let yourself moan as loud as you could.

Steve takes this as a sign that he and Bucky can finally let go now that you were taken care of. As you catch your breath, you can hear Bucky start to degrade Steve.

“Stop fucking me like you’re a virgin. We know that you’re the biggest slut here.”

Steve once again speeds up and thrusts harder, almost making Bucky fall. Once you take the vibrator out, you move in front of Bucky.

“Eat me out Sarge,” Bucky smirks at you and bites the inside of your thigh, close to your throbbing pussy.

Bucky uses his nose to his advantage. He nudges your clit with it and you jerk your hips up. He smiles and takes a deep breath, smelling you.

“You smell so good Doll.” He presses his tongue flat on your folds, tasting your previous orgasm. “You taste so good too.” And with that, he slips his tongue past your folds.

You gasp at the pleasure. With Steve thrusting hard into Bucky it’s creating a different kind of friction. You arch your back and grab a fist full of the sheets. 

Bucky moans into your pussy. “I’m going to come.”

You lift your hips more, pressing your cunt into his face. You can feel your release building in your stomach, tingles making their way from your head to your toes.

Knowing that Steve is close too, Bucky starts his degrading once more. “Your thrusts are so pathetic Stevie, are you even trying?”

“Do you need me to show you how it’s done?” You mock.

“You might need to get your strap-on Doll, he can’t get me off the way you do,” Bucky smirks up at you.

Steve moans and thrusts two more times and Bucky is putty in his hands. Trying to make sure you get your second orgasm, he thrusts his tongue into your pussy and you come with him.

Steve continues to pump into Bucky until he finds his release, only three more thrusts. He buries his dick into Bucky, making sure every drop stays in. With you catching your breath and Bucky still coming, you decide it’s only fair to clean him up. So you take his cock in your mouth and swallow every last drip, licking whatever drops that landed on his thighs and onto the bedding.

[lavenderpanic]

The juxtaposition of Steve's "He looked right at me. He didn't even know me," with Bucky's painful, conflicted "But I knew him," is genuinely so physically painful I can't watch those scenes.

[ladysif8]

Alpine's Guide to Surviving the Holidays

•Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers •Rating: General Audience •Tags: Recovering Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Steve Rogers, Introducing Alpine, Domestic Bliss, Flirting, Kissing, Boys In Love, Christmas Time, Alpine Is A Furry Demon Kitty, Alpines POV, Alpines Guide, Alpine is Supreme Queen.

Summary: This festive, feline-centered tale offers a glimpse of the holidays from Alpine's perspective, filled with chaos, humor, and a little holiday mischief as she reminds her humans who's really in charge.

Author Note: This is dedicated to my wonderful friend Jess, whose friendship, endless support, and creativity inspire me every day. Thank you for being such an incredible part of my journey. This one's for you!

Greetings, lesser creatures. I am Alpine, supreme ruler of my domain, and it has come to my attention that humans behave even more ridiculously than usual during the "holiday season." As the authority on all matters feline, I have compiled this guide to help my fellow cats navigate—and exploit—this baffling time of year.

Step 1: The Tree

Humans will drag an entire tree into the house (or worse, assemble a fake one) and decorate it with shiny, dangly objects that they insist you must not touch. Nonsense. Those ornaments are clearly meant for us.

Here's how to assert your dominance:

• Start small. Bat at the lower ornaments when no one's looking.

• Once you've mastered subtle swipes, go for a bold climb up the tree. Bonus points if the humans scream in panic.

• Knock over at least one ornament a day. This keeps the humans on their toes and reminds them who's really in charge.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, twinkling with strings of lights and shimmering with delicate ornaments, a picture of holiday perfection. It practically radiated smugness, as if it were daring anyone to disrupt its pristine beauty. Alpine, lounging a few feet away, had other plans. Her blue eyes narrowed as she sized it up, her tail flicking rhythmically against the floor. Bucky had told her no at least a dozen times since the tree had gone up, but Alpine wasn't one to take orders. Rules, as far as she was concerned, were for humans—and besides, this tree was asking for it.

She started small. Subtlety was her specialty. Creeping toward the base of the tree with slow, deliberate steps, she kept her movements light and quiet, her tail held low to avoid catching attention. Once in position, her paw shot out, quick as a flash, batting at a low-hanging ornament. It spun lazily on its string, catching the glow of the twinkling lights. Perfect.

Satisfied with her work, Alpine swatted at another one, her claws grazing the shiny surface with a satisfying tink. The sound echoed faintly through the room, and she froze, her ears swiveling toward the kitchen.

"Alpine," Bucky's voice boomed, sharp and warning. "Don't even think about it."

She turned her head slowly, fixing him with her most innocent stare, wide-eyed and sweet. The picture of a good cat. And then, with a flick of her tail, she swatted the ornament again—harder this time, sending it flying across the room. It bounced once on the rug before disappearing under the couch.

"Really?" Bucky groaned, his head poking out from around the corner. He glared at her, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "That's one a day with you, I swear."

Unbothered, Alpine slunk back to her spot by the couch, watching him retreat to the kitchen. She stretched luxuriously, her claws extending and retracting, before shifting her focus back to the tree. The lower branches were fine for a warm-up, but the real challenge was higher up.

She crouched low, coiling her muscles like a spring. With a sudden leap, she launched herself onto the tree, her claws digging into the branches for stability. The ornaments swayed and jingled with her weight, the lights trembling as she climbed higher. A spray of tinsel fell to the floor, sparkling like confetti in her wake.

From the kitchen, there was a crash of pots, followed by a sharp, familiar yell. "ALPINE!"

Bucky stormed into the living room, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. "Get out of the tree!"

Alpine paused midway up the trunk, one paw wrapped around a branch for balance. She tilted her head and blinked at him, feigning confusion. What tree? her expression seemed to say.

"Seriously?" Bucky muttered, rushing forward as the tree wobbled dangerously under her weight. He wrapped his arms around the trunk, trying to steady it, but Alpine was already on the move, climbing higher. She batted at a glittering snowflake ornament, sending it tumbling down.

"Alpine, come on!" he pleaded, his voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Deciding she'd caused enough chaos for now, Alpine leaped gracefully from the tree, landing on the coffee table with a soft thump. Behind her, the tree swayed violently but, miraculously, stayed upright. Bucky let out a relieved sigh, muttering to himself as he began straightening the disheveled branches.

But Alpine wasn't done. Not yet. Spying an ornament she'd knocked loose earlier, she padded over and batted it across the floor, chasing it as it rolled in uneven circles.

"Of course," Bucky grumbled, shooting her a tired glare as he fixed the lights. "You're lucky it's Christmas."

Victorious, Alpine flicked her tail and nudged the ornament under the couch, where it would live forever. The tree might have survived round one, but Alpine knew she'd be back. After all, this was her domain. The tree, like everything else in the house, was hers. And it would never truly be safe—not as long as she was around.

Step 2: Wrapping Presents

Humans love to take perfectly good objects and wrap them in noisy, crinkly paper. This, dear friends, is your playground.

• When they roll out the paper, sit directly in the middle of it. This is your territory now.

• Attack the ribbon. It's sparkly, it moves, and it's yours. Shred it mercilessly.

• Bat bows around the room like the tiny foes they are.

• If they attempt to shoo you away, give them your most innocent look. Trust me, it works every time.

Remember: the true purpose of wrapping paper is not to hide presents but to entertain us.

Bucky had barely unrolled the first sheet of wrapping paper when Alpine appeared, materializing from thin air like some kind of crinkly paper clairvoyant. Her ears perked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she trotted toward him. The sound of paper rustling was like a siren call, and Alpine couldn't resist. She hopped onto the pristine sheet and plopped herself dead center, her tail curling smugly around her paws like a queen settling on her throne.

"Alpine, move," Bucky said, already sounding defeated.

Alpine blinked at him, her wide blue eyes radiating an air of innocence so pure it was borderline insulting. She didn't flinch, didn't budge—didn't even acknowledge his request. When he leaned forward, his hand hovering to shoo her away, she stretched luxuriously, rolling onto her side and making sure to crinkle the paper as loudly as possible.

"Seriously?" he muttered, glaring down at her.

Unfazed, Alpine flicked her tail in slow, deliberate defiance. Bucky let out a heavy sigh and tried working around her, carefully trimming the paper without slicing it into fur. But as he reached for the spool of ribbon, Alpine's ears twitched. Her eyes locked onto the shiny strand as it unfurled, glinting temptingly in the light.

It was too much. With a swipe of her paw, she snagged the ribbon and pinned it to the floor like she'd just caught a wriggling snake.

"Alpine, no!" Bucky snapped, yanking at the ribbon.

Alpine growled softly, swatting again as the ribbon slipped from her grasp. He managed to pull it free and loop it around the box, but Alpine was faster. She pounced, grabbing the ribbon midair and rolling onto her back, clutching it triumphantly in her claws.

"Unbelievable," Bucky groaned, carefully untangling the ribbon from her paws.

He thought he was in the clear, but as soon as his attention shifted back to the gift, Alpine's gaze darted toward her next target: the bows. Shiny, colorful, and scattered across the floor, they were practically begging for her attention. She darted toward the nearest one and swatted it across the room with a triumphant chirp.

"Alpine!" Bucky's voice thundered, but the cat didn't even glance back.

She was already onto the next bow, batting it under the coffee table. It disappeared into the shadows, but Alpine didn't care—there were plenty more. She pounced on another, sliding it across the floor in a spectacularly clumsy arc.

Bucky dropped the roll of tape in his hand and ran both hands down his face. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered to himself.

By the time he turned back, Alpine had returned to the wrapping paper. Now re-rolled in an attempt to salvage it, the paper was no match for her claws. She flopped onto it with theatrical flair, purring loudly as she kneaded her paws into the sheet, puncturing it in several places. The noise was deafening, each crinkling like a personal victory.

Bucky crouched down, trying to salvage what little was left of his materials. "You are literally the worst," he grumbled, gathering the shredded remnants of the bows Alpine had massacred.

Alpine looked up at him with a satisfied gleam in her eyes, her purr vibrating through the room like applause for her own performance. She stretched lazily, flicking her tail in his direction as if to say, You're welcome.

To her, Bucky had it all wrong. Wrapping paper wasn't for gifts—it was a playground. Ribbons weren't for tying; they were for hunting. And bows? They were trophies meant to be batted under furniture where they'd remain for eternity. Judging by the chaotic mess around her, Alpine knew one thing for sure: she was using all of it exactly as it was intended.

Step 3: The Fire

Humans seem to think the fire is the heart of the holiday. While it's not bad—it's warm, after all—it's still no radiator.

• Claim the spot closest to the fire. If a human is already sitting there, stare at them until they move.

• Beware of stockings hanging nearby. They dangle tantalizingly but are oddly difficult to swat down. (Still worth a try.)

• Don't trust the fire's crackling noises. They're suspicious. Stay vigilant.

Alpine padded into the living room, tail high, ears twitching at the crackling sound coming from the fireplace. There it was: the humans' precious fire, flickering and glowing like it owned the room. Warm? Sure. Cozy? Maybe. But it wasn't a radiator, and Alpine wasn't about to let it think it was better than her favorite heat source.

Steve and Bucky sat on the couch, chatting and sipping from their mugs, perfectly positioned in the prime spot near the fire. This was unacceptable. Alpine needed that spot, and she needed it now.

She sat down in the middle of the rug, facing Steve with unblinking eyes. He caught her stare after a few seconds.

"What?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alpine kept staring, adding a soft, purposeful flick of her tail for emphasis. Move, human.

Steve glanced at Bucky. "Why is she looking at me like that?"

"She wants your spot," Bucky said without looking up, his tone dripping with familiarity.

"Well, she can't have it," Steve replied, leaning back as if to assert his dominance.

Challenge accepted. Alpine stood, marched over, and sat down directly in front of Steve's feet. She turned her head and gave him her best wide-eyed, sorrowful look. If her tail flicked a little too close to his mug, well, that was just a coincidence.

"Oh, come on," Steve muttered, already shifting uncomfortably. Alpine stared harder, her gaze now a mix of judgment and expectation.

"Just give her the spot," Bucky said, smirking from the other end of the couch. "You're not gonna win."

With a dramatic sigh, Steve stood and moved to the armchair. Alpine hopped into his vacated spot immediately, circling twice before curling up with smug precision. It was warm, sure, but not quite warm enough.

She turned her attention to the stockings hanging above the fire. They dangled there, swaying gently, clearly mocking her. Alpine stood up, stretched luxuriously, and then leapt onto the coffee table for a better angle.

"Alpine," Bucky warned, setting down his mug. "Don't even think about it."

She didn't think. She acted. Her paw shot out, claws extended, swiping at the nearest stocking. It swung wildly but didn't fall. Alpine tried again, harder this time, but the stupid thing just wouldn't come down. Frustrated, she let out a chirp of protest and glared at it.

"She's gonna take the whole mantel down if you let her," Steve said, crossing his arms.

"Alpine, get down," Bucky ordered, but she ignored him, swatting one last time for good measure before leaping gracefully back to the rug.

The fire popped loudly, and Alpine froze, her ears flattening. Suspicious. She crept closer, sniffing the air, her eyes narrowing at the flickering flames. It crackled again, and she backed up a step, tail puffing slightly.

"You're scared of the fire?" Steve asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"She's not scared," Bucky said quickly, watching Alpine stalk the edge of the rug with exaggerated caution. "She's... being strategic."

Alpine shot him a glare. She wasn't scared. She was vigilant—a big difference.

Deciding the fire was sufficiently warned of her dominance, she returned to her spot on the couch and sprawled across the cushions. The humans were lucky to have her here, keeping them safe from suspicious crackles and rebellious stockings.

The fire might've been warm, but Alpine was still the heart of the holiday, and everyone in the room knew it.

Step 4: Snow

At some point, humans may open the door and expect you to appreciate "the snow." Do not fall for it.

• Snow is cold and wet and sticks to your paws like some form of winter torture. Avoid it at all costs.

• If they force you outside, make your disdain known with the most pitiful meow you can muster. Drag your feet dramatically and glare at them over your shoulder.

• When you come back inside, immediately seek out the warmest spot to recover from the betrayal. Preferably their lap, so they feel guilty.

The indignity of it all.

Alpine, supreme queen of her household, ruler of the warmest laps, and thief of unattended chili had endured many affronts in her life—but this? This was a betrayal of epic proportions.

They had dragged her out of her cozy suburban paradise and into the woods. She lifted a delicate paw and shook off the offending snow with a flick that was half disgust, half Shakespearean drama. Her little blue coat, while admittedly snug and warm, was nothing short of a betrayal. It wasn't fashion; it was imprisonment. She looked like a stuffed marshmallow, and the harness? Don't even get her started.

The leash tugged lightly, urging her to move forward. Alpine responded by planting all four paws firmly in the snow, her tail flicking sharply. The snow clung to her pristine white fur like a personal insult, the icy crystals melting into chilly droplets that seeped through her delicate coat. Why? she thought, her narrowed eyes shifting between the two lumbering buffoons who dared to call themselves her caretakers.

"Come on, baby girl, just a little farther," Bucky cooed, crouching down a few feet away with that infernal camera in his hands. The man had no shame; snapping pictures like her suffering was some kind of artistic masterpiece.

Alpine leveled him with a look that could have frozen the snow beneath his boots. Little farther? Farther from where I belong, you mean. My couch, my radiator, my perfectly curated kingdom? She huffed loudly, the frosty air curling from her mouth in a visible display of disdain.

Steve, the other giant, stood nearby, bundled in so many layers he looked like an overstuffed burrito. He grinned down at her, clearly finding her predicament amusing. "She's doing great," he said, his breath fogging in the cold.

Great? Alpine's tail lashed behind her. I'm being dragged through the frozen wilderness like a common peasant, and this is 'great'?

Her delicate paw lifted from the snow with an exaggerated flourish. She shook it violently, flinging icy flecks into the air before setting it back down with as much reluctance as she could muster. Every step forward was a performance of melodramatic resignation, but they didn't seem to care.

"Oh, she's so photogenic," Bucky muttered, clicking the phone camera again. "Look at that sass. She's got attitude."

Attitude? Alpine's ears flattened, her eyes narrowing. I'll show you attitude. Just wait until you leave your cereal bowl unattended tomorrow morning.

But it wasn't just the snow. No, the real insult was where they'd brought her. The cabin. The cabin. She glanced around at the surrounding woods with a mix of horror and disgust. Bare trees loomed overhead, their skeletal branches creaking in the icy wind. The ground was a patchwork of snow and uneven earth, with no sign of the soft carpet or gleaming hardwood she was accustomed to.

Alpine sniffed the air cautiously, catching the faint, earthy scent of pine mixed with something wild and unfamiliar. It was offensive. This place was a far cry from her suburban home, with its cozy nooks and warm sunbeams streaming through the windows. The cabin had its charms, sure, but it wasn't hers.

And now they wanted her to explore this frozen wasteland? She flicked her tail again, letting out a low, pitiful meow for emphasis.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," Bucky said, reaching out to scratch under her chin. She dodged his hand with a dramatic head tilt, making it clear she was not in the mood for his placations.

As if to make things worse, the leash tugged again, and Alpine begrudgingly took another step. This time, her paw sank deeper into the snow, and she froze in place, glaring down at it with wide, horrified eyes. She lifted her paw slowly, staring at the clumps of snow stuck between her toes like they were the cruelest form of punishment.

Bucky doubled over laughing. "Oh, my god, Stevie, look at her face. She's so mad."

"I don't blame her," Steve said, though he was grinning too. "We did kind of spring this on her."

Spring this on me? Alpine let out another theatrical sigh. You dragged me from my kingdom to this frostbitten hellscape without warning, and now you expect me to be grateful?

Bucky crouched again, holding up the phone and aiming it straight at her. "Come on, baby girl, just a few more shots. Give me that fierce model look."

I will knock that phone off into the toilet the next time your in the shower, Alpine thought as she stared directly into the lens with a withering glare.

When they finally—finally—seemed to get the message, Bucky scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "There we go," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "All done, baby girl. Let's get you inside."

Alpine hissed softly but allowed the indignity; it was too cold to put up much of a fight. At least his arms were warm, and the cabin's glow was growing closer with every step.

As they reached the porch, Bucky grinned over his shoulder at Steve. "I'm putting these pictures on the Christmas card."

Alpine buried her face in his coat with a low growl. Not if I get to them first.

Bucky carried Alpine into the cabin, the warm air hitting her like a soft, cozy blanket after the betrayal of the outdoors. She let out a long, theatrical yowl, her voice echoing off the walls, just to ensure her displeasure was properly noted. You dare bring me out there and expect me to act like it was fun?

"Alright, alright, you little diva," Bucky muttered, setting her down on the bench by the front door. His tone was annoyingly affectionate, as though her suffering was adorable. Adorable? She wasn't adorable—she was a wronged queen demanding justice.

Her tail lashed as Bucky started unfastening her puffy blue jacket. She let out another mournful cry, a detailed list of grievances disguised as a single, ear-piercing yowl. Dragged me into the snow, stuffed me into this hideous contraption, laughed at my misery—your crimes will not go unpunished!

"Don't yell at me! You needed the jacket," Bucky protested, working the tiny zipper free. "It's freezing out there. You wanna catch a cold?"

Cold? Alpine narrowed her eyes at him. If I were meant to be cold, I'd have been born as a snowshoe hare. But I am not. I am a cat. A creature of warmth, comfort, and dignity, all of which you've stolen from me today.

As soon as the jacket came off, Alpine leaped off the wooden bench with all the grace of someone who absolutely did not appreciate being handled. She stalked away from the front door and her abuser, her fluffy tail held high, flicking once for emphasis. Behind her, Bucky muttered something about "ungrateful furballs," but Alpine didn't dignify him with a response.

Her mission was clear: she needed to find the other human.

Alpine padded into the living room, each step purposeful, her tail swishing behind her like a banner of disdain. She paused at the threshold, her sharp green eyes sweeping over the cabin's decor. It was... underwhelming. Cozy, sure, but in a way that felt manufactured—like the humans were trying too hard to make it seem charming. She sniffed as if to physically draw in all the reasons she disliked it, her whiskers twitching with disapproval.

Her gaze locked on the Christmas tree, a nearly identical twin to the one at home. It stood smugly in the corner, draped in twinkling lights and shimmering baubles, its branches heavy with ornaments that swayed invitingly. It was practically begging her to reach out a paw. But she knew better. This was just another of their pointless rules.

What is the point of hanging shiny, dangling objects if I'm not allowed to touch them? Alpine thought, her ears flicking backward in annoyance. She swished her tail, remembering every time her paw had been batted away at home. A tree with strict "No, Alpine!" rules was no tree worth respecting.

As her inspection of the room continued, her opinion of the cabin remained resolute: unimpressive. The furniture was soft but mismatched, the kind of pieces you'd tolerate, not cherish. The rug beneath her paws was too coarse for her liking, and the cushions on the couch looked lumpy. Everything here screamed temporary, and Alpine did not care for temporary. She liked her home: the routines, the warm, well-worn spots on the couch, the radiator she'd claimed as her personal throne.

I'll never understand these humans, she thought, her ears twitching as the fire popped again. They hang shiny, tempting objects on a tree and then act like I'm the unreasonable one for wanting to touch them. And those stockings? Useless. They don't even have treats in them. What's the point?

This cabin was tolerable, she supposed, but only because she was here to make it so. It wasn't home, and it certainly wasn't up to her standards.

There he was—the other human. The spare one. Steve. The one who didn't put her in silly outfits or shove a phone in her face. Steve was sprawles out on the couch, holding a book, his big frame sprawled out like he had nowhere else to be.

Perfect.

Alpine hopped onto his lap and immediately began her campaign. She stared up at him with wide, soulful eyes, her most effective weapon, and let out a soft, plaintive meow. Feed me, loyal subject. Prove your worth.

Steve's face broke into a smile as he set the book aside. "Oh, so now I'm the favorite?" he asked, reaching down to pet her.

Alpine leaned into his hand, purring softly as his warm fingers trailed along her back. Finally, someone was acting appropriately.

From the kitchen, Bucky's voice carried over. "She's probably trying to con you into feeding her. Don't let her win, Stevie!"

Con? Alpine's ears twitched at the insult, but she didn't look away from Steve. Instead, she meowed again, a touch louder this time, making her demands crystal clear.

"Too late," Steve said, chuckling as he gently set her back on the floor. He stretched, then headed to the kitchen, Alpine trotting at his heels like the commanding presence she was. "Can't have our little queen going hungry, can we?"

She shot Bucky a smug look as Steve opened the sacred cupboard and retrieved the most precious of treasures—a can of wet food. Her tail flicked in satisfaction as he popped the lid and scooped the fragrant feast into her bowl. See? This one knows what he's doing.

As Steve scooped the food into her bowl, Alpine purred loudly, her tail flicking in satisfaction. Finally, some justice in this household. She devoured the meal with gusto, savoring every bite. It wasn't that long ago that she'd been scraping by, scrounging behind gas stations and dodging cold, sleepless nights. Life here wasn't so bad—not with food like this.

While Steve washed the spoon, Alpine dined like royalty, savoring every bite. Life hadn't always been this good. Not so long ago, she'd been a scrappy dumpster kitten, scrounging for scraps behind gas stations and braving cold, lonely nights. She didn't like to think about those days, but they made moments like this all the sweeter. Her life wasn't all that bad—not with food like this.

When her bowl was empty and her stomach full, Alpine padded back into the living room, her paws light, and her mood improved. The fire crackled invitingly, and she jumped onto the couch, curling into a perfect ball right in front of the warmth.

The two humans joined her shortly after, Bucky flopping onto the couch next to Steve, the blonde's arm slung over the brunette shoulders. They both looked at her, their expressions soft, and Alpine allowed herself to feel a little smug. She had them wrapped around her paw, just as it should be.

"What do you think she's thinking about?" Bucky asked, leaning into Steve.

Steve laughed, rubbing his hand over Bucky's shoulder. "World domination, probably. Or figuring out how to knock over the Christmas tree."

Perhaps both, Alpine thought, cracking one eye open to glance at them. She offered a slow blink, a silent acknowledgment of their loyalty. They were idiots, but they were her idiots.

With a contented sigh, she tucked her nose under her paw and drifted off to sleep. Life with these two wasn't perfect, but it was warm, full of food, and—when they weren't stuffing her into coats or dragging her into the snow—pretty good.

Step 5: Christmas Cards

Humans love to send pictures of themselves during the holidays. Unfortunately, they will try to include you in these.

• If they attempt to pose you next to the tree or in front of the fire, resist. Go limp, twist around, or give them the back of your head for every shot.

• If they succeed in taking a photo, ensure you look unimpressed. This will make the card more authentic.

• When the cards arrive, sit on them. Knock them off the table. This will remind the humans who the real star of the holidays is—you.

The humans had outdone themselves with their ridiculous holiday traditions. Alpine watched from her perch on the back of the couch as Bucky and Steve shuffled around the living room, setting up some sort of photo shoot. The tree twinkled, the fire crackled, and a neatly folded blanket had been draped over the armchair like they were expecting royalty.

"Alpine!" Bucky called, holding a Santa hat in one hand and a determined look on his face. "Come here."

She narrowed her eyes. Absolutely not.

Bucky sighed and tried a new tactic, kneeling and holding out his hand. "Come on, girl. Just one picture, and we're done."

Alpine considered her options. She could stay here and make them chase her, but where was the fun in that? Slowly, she stretched and leapt down, sauntering toward him with exaggerated disinterest. Let them think she was cooperating.

The moment Bucky tried to pick her up, she went completely limp, her full weight dropping into his arms like she'd forgotten how bones worked.

"Oh, come on," he grumbled, shifting her awkwardly. "Steve, help me out."

Steve approached, camera in hand, and Alpine twisted suddenly, wriggling free and darting under the coffee table. From her vantage point, she watched as the humans sighed in unison, already looking defeated.

"I told you we should've just gotten a dog," Steve muttered.

Bucky crouched down to look at her. "Alpine, we're just trying to make a nice card. Can you work with us here?"

She blinked at him slowly, then turned her head, giving him a perfect view of the back of her ears.

"Fine. You win," Bucky muttered, standing. But Alpine wasn't done. As they reset the scene, she emerged from her hiding spot, climbing onto the chair they'd so lovingly prepared.

"Hey, she's sitting still!" Steve said, raising the camera.

Alpine waited until the perfect moment—just as the camera clicked—then yawned dramatically, her ears flattening and her expression one of sheer boredom.

"Really?" Bucky said, glaring at the screen.

"That's actually pretty funny," Steve chuckled, showing him the shot.

By the time the humans gave up and printed their cards, Alpine had moved on to her next target: the cards themselves. They sat in a neat stack on the coffee table, practically begging to be knocked over. She hopped onto the table, settled directly on top of the stack, and began grooming herself like she hadn't a care in the world.

"Alpine, those aren't for you!" Steve said, reaching for the cards.

She swatted his hand away and stretched out further, crumpling the envelopes beneath her.

"She's just reminding us who the star of this holiday is," Bucky said dryly, crossing his arms.

Alpine purred, satisfied. She didn't need to be in the humans' silly pictures. Everyone already knew the truth: this holiday—and the humans' sanity—revolved around her.

Step 6: Holiday Food

Humans feast during the holidays, but they will selfishly guard most of the food. This is unacceptable.

• Station yourself near the kitchen or dining table. Look adorable but hungry.

• If subtlety doesn't work, leap onto the counter and help yourself. Turkey, ham, and anything involving gravy are top-tier.

• Avoid candy canes. They smell strange and are disappointingly inedible.

The smells wafting from the kitchen were overwhelming—roasting meat, buttery rolls, and the tantalizing richness of gravy. Alpine crouched just outside the doorway, her nose twitching and tail flicking as she watched Bucky shuffle between the oven and the counter. He had been at it for hours, muttering under his breath about timers and seasoning. To Alpine, it was obvious: all this effort was clearly for her.

The humans were predictable. They always shared—eventually. But the trick was timing. Alpine stationed herself strategically near the dining table, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at Steve, who was slicing bread with precision. Occasionally, she let out a soft, pitiful meow for effect.

"She's giving me the look," Steve muttered to Bucky. "Like I haven't fed her in weeks."

"She's playing you," Bucky shot back without even looking up from his mashed potatoes. "Don't fall for it."

Fine. If pity wasn't working, it was time to escalate.

As Bucky turned to check on the ham, Alpine seized her chance. She leapt onto the counter with the agility of a gymnast, landing silently next to the cooling dish of turkey. The smell was heavenly, and before anyone could react, she snagged a piece with her paw and ducked under the table.

"Alpine!" Bucky's shout was immediate.

From her hiding spot, she could hear the slap of a dish towel against the counter. She took a victorious bite of the turkey, savoring the juicy perfection.

"Seriously?" Steve said, trying not to laugh. "She's like a ninja."

"She's like a menace," Bucky growled, bending down to glare at her. "Give it back!"

Alpine licked her paw, feigning innocence, the half-eaten piece of turkey tucked safely under her. She blinked slowly at Bucky, the picture of feline arrogance.

"Oh, come on," Bucky groaned, standing up and muttering to himself.

Alpine watched as he turned back to the counter, now more vigilant, but she wasn't done yet. She leapt back up a few minutes later when his guard was down, this time going for the gravy boat.

"Alpine, no!"

The commotion sent the humans scrambling, but Alpine was too quick, darting away with a gravy-dipped paw. The humans were shouting, but all Alpine heard was a triumph.

Candy canes, however, were another story. One sat abandoned on the counter, its shiny wrapper catching the light. Curious, Alpine sniffed it, only to recoil at the strange, minty scent. With a flick of her paw, she sent it flying to the floor where it could bother someone else. Disgusting.

By the time dinner was served, Alpine had claimed a seat under the table, strategically positioned to catch any falling crumbs. She watched smugly as Bucky set down the dishes, glaring at her like she was the villain of the holiday.

Little did he know, Alpine thought, licking her gravy-soaked paw, she was the hero this feast deserved.

Step 7: The Gift Exchange

Humans will gather around the tree and exchange boxes of things they don't need. Occasionally, they will give you gifts too.

• Ignore the gifts they give you. It's likely a toy you'll never touch or some boring treats.

• Instead, focus on the empty boxes and discarded wrapping paper. These are the real treasures.

• Jump into every box. Claim it. It's your throne now.

The living room looked like a holiday battlefield—a sea of torn wrapping paper, empty boxes, and shiny ribbons strewn across the floor. Alpine was in her element. Sitting primly in the center of the chaos, she watched her humans, Bucky and Steve, exchanging gifts under the tree. They were making far too much fuss over things that clearly didn't matter. The true treasures were right in front of her: crinkly paper, dangling ribbons, and boxes—oh, the glorious boxes.

"Look, Alpine," Steve said, holding out a small package wrapped in green paper. "This one's for you."

Alpine glanced at the box, then at Steve, her green eyes narrowing slightly. Did he honestly think she'd care about what was inside? She was far too busy surveying the mess to waste energy humoring him. With the dignity of a queen dismissing a court jester, she turned her attention to a crumpled ball of wrapping paper lying just out of reach.

She crouched low, tail flicking, and pounced, batting the paper across the floor. It skittered under the couch, but she didn't mind—there were plenty more.

"Guess she's not interested," Steve chuckled, setting the package aside.

"Typical," Bucky muttered, tearing into a box of his own. "We could've saved twenty bucks if we just gave her the garbage."

Alpine ignored their commentary. She had more important tasks at hand. A stray bow caught her eye, its shiny surface catching the light. She stalked it like prey, her claws unsheathing as she pounced. The bow slid across the floor, but she was relentless, chasing it under the coffee table and batting it back out into the open. Finally, she trapped it under her paw and gave it a triumphant bite before losing interest. There were still other treasures to claim.

And then she saw it: an empty box sitting near Bucky's feet. The perfect size for sitting, lounging, or both. She padded over, sniffing it with the cautious curiosity of a professional investigator. Satisfied, she hopped inside, turning in circles until she'd found just the right position.

"She gets a catnip toy and ignores it for a box," Bucky said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Priorities," Steve replied with a grin, watching Alpine settle into her new throne.

Alpine stretched luxuriously, her tail dangling lazily over the edge of the box. For a moment, she closed her eyes, basking in the triumph of her find. But peace never lasted long in her world. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a ribbon dangling from the arm of the couch. It swayed gently, taunting her.

Without hesitation, Alpine leapt from the box and tackled the ribbon mid-air, rolling onto her back as she shredded it with wild abandon. The humans' voices grew louder, but their words were irrelevant. She had won.

"Alpine, come on," Bucky groaned, crouching to pick up the pieces of ribbon. "That's the third one you've destroyed!"

Unbothered by his protests, Alpine sauntered back to her box and hopped in, resuming her royal position. She gave Bucky a slow blink—the feline equivalent of a mic drop.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "I think she's having the best Christmas out of all of us."

Bucky sighed, glancing at the pile of toys and treats they'd bought her, now abandoned in favor of the box and wrapping paper. "Next year, we're just getting her an empty box and some paper. Save ourselves the trouble."

Alpine flicked her tail, smug satisfaction radiating from her small frame. Finally, they were starting to understand who the real star of Christmas was.

Step 8: Holiday Cheer

Humans will sing, laugh, and generally act even more absurd than usual. They'll also cuddle more, which is... tolerable.

• Indulge them when they try to include you in their "holiday spirit." Let them pet you for exactly as long as you feel like it.

• If they dress you in a Santa hat or a ridiculous sweater, go limp. Make them regret their choices.

• Occasionally grace them with a slow blink. This will make them feel like they've earned your approval, which keeps them manageable.

The living room buzzed with holiday cheer, the kind humans seemed to find contagious this time of year. Laughter and chatter filled the space as Bucky and Steve lounged on the couch, mugs of steaming cocoa in hand, trading stories and enjoying the cozy warmth of the fire. Alpine, perched on the arm of the couch, observed the scene with her usual mix of disdain and reluctant fondness. Humans were absurd creatures, but at least they served a purpose—sometimes.

Steve reached over, his hand hovering near her ears. "You feeling the holiday cheer, Alpine?" he asked, his voice soft and coaxing, like she was some simple-minded puppy who could be swayed by tone alone.

She allowed the intrusion, tilting her head slightly as his fingers scratched behind her ears. For a moment—just a moment—she leaned into the touch, her eyes half-closing in approval. But then, inevitably, he pushed his luck and scratched the wrong spot. Her tail flicked sharply in warning, and she sprang down from the arm of the couch with an air of offended dignity, leaving Steve mid-scratch and chuckling to himself.

"Guess that's a no," he said with a grin, watching as Alpine sauntered toward Bucky's chair.

Bucky snorted, one hand resting on the armrest as Alpine approached. "Yeah, that's her version of holiday cheer—gracing us with her presence until we overstep."

Despite his words, his hand reached out to stroke her head. Alpine tolerated it for a beat or two, closing her eyes briefly before pulling back. She had better things to do than indulge human attention all evening. Or so she thought.

That's when she saw it—the Santa hat.

Bucky held it up with a mischievous grin, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Come on, Alpine. Just for a second. You'll look cute."

Cute? Alpine didn't need some ridiculous human prop to be cute. Her ears flattened immediately as she glared at him, her tail twitching in annoyance. She considered bolting, but before she could make her escape, the hat was on her head.

Her response was immediate and dramatic. She went limp, collapsing onto the arm of the chair like the weight of the world—or at least the hat—was too much to bear.

Steve burst out laughing. "Oh my god, she's playing dead! Look at her!"

Bucky groaned, trying to adjust the hat as Alpine flopped over onto her side, her legs splayed in the most exaggerated display of misery she could muster. If he wanted her to wear this thing, he was going to suffer for it.

"She's fine," Bucky said, though even he was laughing as he wrestled with her limp form. "You're such a little diva."

Alpine didn't budge, her green eyes narrowing into a judgmental glare that could have peeled paint off the walls. After a few more failed attempts to make the hat look presentable, Bucky finally sighed and removed it, tossing it onto the couch with a defeated shake of his head.

As soon as the offending accessory was gone, Alpine sprang to her feet with an indignant shake; her fur fluffed as if to rid herself of the lingering humiliation.

"See?" Steve teased. "You ruined her mood."

"Yeah, well, she ruined my hat," Bucky muttered, gesturing to the crumpled mess now sitting on the couch.

Ignoring them both, Alpine climbed back onto the armrest she'd claimed earlier, settling down with her tail neatly curled around her paws. She gave Bucky a slow, deliberate blink—a signal of forgiveness, but just barely.

Steve grinned. "That was a mercy blink. She's letting you off easy."

Bucky groaned, slouching back in his chair. "I don't know why I even try with her."

Satisfied, Alpine tucked her paws beneath her chest, her eyes closing as the warmth of the fire and the sound of human chatter filled the room. Holiday cheer, she decided, was tolerable—so long as it remained on her terms. Naturally, she was winning.

Conclusion

The holidays can be chaotic, loud, and full of baffling traditions. But remember: you are the true center of the household, no matter what these humans celebrate. Use their festivities to your advantage. Play with their decorations, dominate their wrapping sessions, and claim their cozy spots.

And most importantly, when they look at you with those ridiculous grins and call you their "holiday miracle," accept it. After all, you are the greatest gift they could ever hope for.

Happy holidays, peasants.

-Alpine 🐾

Moodboard

Sif's Masterlist

Series Masterlist

[loverslodge]

after the date

Bucky was stunned by the way Steve had talked to you. He too felt like a prized pony but there had to be a better way of putting things, weren't there? One of them made you cry. Bucky couldn't remove the sight of your face when Steve said those things. He swore he heard your heart break. Your tears were an added bonus that wrenched his own heart.

Steve was seething. He felt used. He had the same feeling he had felt when he had broken up with Sharon. This was it, wasn't it? This was his life. A famous person, up on a pedestal, just to look good. But something else cracked. When he saw your broken face, he knew he overstepped, he knew he said things he shouldn't have. He didn't mean it like that. But you had left. Left before he could even realize he fucked up.

………………….

The journey back to the compound was eerily quiet. Bucky wasn't talking to Steve and neither did Steve initiate any discussion.

Bucky knew he should say something but he was too pissed off. If he started talking, punches would have flown with them so he kept quiet. Held himself off. He looked down at his hand to see the bag of books with that single rose you had given him in the morning.

Steve was fidgeting in the seat. He was holding the rose you had given him that morning. You had said you show how you feel because you were never good with words. Was this you showing something? Had he missed something?

As soon as the car stopped in the garage, Bucky jumped out and stomped in the compound. Steve ran after him to talk but Bucky had already slipped in the elevator and had gone up to their shared apartment.

As soon as Steve entered the apartment, a punch flew to his mouth, staggering him. He was ready to counter attack but seeing it was an enraged Bucky, he let it go. Steve did deserve a punch after what he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you end a perfect date like that?” Bucky needed answers.

“It was the right thing to do. We were slipping way too much into her life. It was a fake date.” Steve went to his room and gently put his rose on the side table.

“Come out here. Talk. I'm not letting this behaviour of yours slide.” Bucky demanded.

Steve stomped out. “You are not my boyfriend to demand this kind of shit from me.”

“Is this what it's about? A pent up 100 year old hold up?”

“No. This is about us not addressing the issues. I was in love with Peggy and not you. You were just there and that kiss was a drunken mistake.”

“I don't care about any of that. Let's call it a mistake, fine. But what was that tonight? You made her cry.”

“I told her the truth.”

“There are ways of telling the truth, Steve. You are the gentle one. What the fuck happened back there? Why did you just jump guns?” Bucky walked very close to Steve. He wanted to slap his face and put some sense into it.

Bucky poked and pushed him with the question again and again because Steve kept on ignoring him.

“I got jealous, okay? I got jealous, thinking that there could have been more candidates and she would have picked someone else over us. Us, Bucky. I don't even care if she chose you. I was happy that it was me and you and not me or you. She accepted us together. But got jealous thinking if someone else had responded before us then she would've gone.” Steve ran his hands over his hair and face.

“So you weren't jealous of me being with her?”

“God no! I really liked seeing you with her. It made me happy to see you happy with her.”

Steve held Bucky by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Steve was on the verge of tears for what he did to you.

“Then why the fuck did you say that to her?” Bucky asked him in a quiet tone.

“I got angry. I acted rash and dumb. I- shit. I feel so guilty. She was nothing but incredible. Every time there was sadness in her eyes, she would push it aside and smile for us. She did so well the entire day and I ruined it. I ruined her perfect day.” Steve sat with his head in his hands.

“Didn't we jump to this because it was all no strings attached and no expectations? Then why were there strings and expectations?” Bucky wasn't just asking it to Steve but to himself as well.

“Maybe because of her.” They both looked at each other, understanding what Steve was trying to say. “It was all her. She just- she's an angel, Buck. Sweet, kind and adorable little angel. If just looking at her made us think that then imagine how much we felt when we talked to her.”

“She drew strings without knowing. We were so confident in proving that we won't have expectations but her being unconditional about everything just broke our confidence, didn't it?” Bucky stared down at his hands. “She expected nothing. She even went as far as to open herself bare to us without expecting us to do something about it.”

“She was ready to leave us alone once the day was over, did you know that?” Steve looked at Bucky who looked at him with wide eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“I read her memos. She was getting gelato for us in the park and her memo fell out. She was detailed about today. She had written it down. Underline and everything! She really dove head first without asking for anything in return.”

Bucky and Steve sat in silence. Today had brought a lot of clarity to them. One of them being that they belonged together but not alone. They belonged together with you.

Sure, Bucky and Steve have had their moments with each other but they never talked about it. But it seemed like after today, there needed to be a lot of clarifications. Both of them spent hours talking and clarifying.

They were both in bed, next to each other. Still wanting to talk about the most important thing, you.

“So, I know we just started something new but what about Angel?” Steve really did want you in their lives.

“I was thinking the same thing. I know we have us but it feels, I don't know, empty. Today, with her, I felt like we were complete.” Bucky shifted and looked at Steve.

“You know, I felt so much at ease with her. Like she wasn't expecting me to just burst my heart open for her every two seconds. I felt very calm with her. I just wish I hadn't said those things. We would've gotten more time with her. Maybe talk to her. Ask her if she wanted this to be something real.”

“We didn't even get to say goodbye. You know, after the dinner, I was going to ask her if she would be willing to spend another day with us. I've never felt like this before, you know. Except with you. I felt very comfortable with her.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“So we're okay with a third being with us. And we want that third to be her and only her. Correct?” Steve summarized their thoughts.

“Correct. Our Angel. We need to talk to her.”

“Do you think she'll want to talk to me after what I said?” Steve’s voice turned sad.

“Of course she will. We will not let a misunderstanding get in our way. We will win her back.” Bucky was determined.

“You know, I think I know why she came up with this no expectation thing.” Steve looked at Bucky

“Why?” Bucky was curious to know Steve’s interpretation.

“Because no one fought for her. After listening to her story, it's very clear. While she tried her best, when she left, no one was there to tell her to not go. It was as if nobody cared.” Steve had tears in his eyes.

“Then we show her. We show her that we will fight for her. We want her and she is it for us. We will show her. Maybe we can mend her heart the way she's mending ours.” Bucky patted Steve and rubbed his arm to give him confidence.

……………….

It had been two weeks since the date went horribly wrong. You had been in a sad rut since then. Many times tears welled up in your eyes thinking about the time you spent with them.

First three days you spent thinking about how you had been feeling the same way about the two of them. Whatever affection you were feeling for them was, surprisingly, in an equal amount. There was no leaning towards one over the other, it was leaning towards them.

You spent time trying to sort your affections. Two men? How? Is this even right? Are they together? It felt like they were. Was what you did right? Did you get between two people?

But then you slipped back into the dark thoughts not being loveable. Your mind went into overthinking how your past relationships made no attempt in exactly loving you. You aren’t just an arc of rainbow but you are also the rain. They only loved the rainbow.

You had spent two weeks mulling over your idea of love as well. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe you are looking for a broken love. But how could you not? You have become a broken person. You had become this shell of a love that kept on giving but received nothing in return.

It was Saturday and you were sitting in your favourite cafe, working on your laptop. Your table was littered with your heavily sweetened drinks. You might've been on your tenth cup, or that's what you assumed when you thought you were hallucinating two super soldiers swaggering towards you.

“Hey Angel.” Bucky’s dazzling smile was blinding you and your eyes were dry as is.

Bucky’s smooth voice was pulling you more into your dreamland. More like, you had been so stressed and sleep deprived that everything looked like a hallucination.

“Angel, are you okay? Your eyes are very glassy.” Steve crouched down to look at your eyes better. His heart wrenched at the sight of the redness of them and heavy bags under your eyes.

“Buck, I don't think she’s well. Maybe we should take her back to her place and talk to her next time.” Steve was getting very worried about you.

“I'm fine. Nothings wrong. I just…” and you were about to topple off the chair when Steve caught you by your shoulder and leaned you against him.

“Ok, that's it. Buck, grab her things and find her keys, we're taking her home.”

Your eyes were glassy but you distinctly remember Steve picking you up and Bucky smoothing out your hair from your face before they got walking.

Once they reached your apartment, Bucky carried you and your things while Steve had rushed to open your door. Bucky walked in and went straight for your bedroom and laid you down. You tried to get up to change but he just pushed you back on the bed.

“Please. I wanna change. Very uncomfortable.” You were feeling delirious.

“Angel, I don't want you falling.” Bucky held your waist as you made your way to grab your comfiest pjs.

“What are you doing, Angel? Get back to bed.” Steve walked in the bedroom to check up on you but seeing you walking around with Bucky supporting you concerned him.

“Let go. Gotta change.” You wriggled your way out of Bucky’s arms and stumbled into the bathroom, locking it.

“Angel, did you just lock the bathroom? You'll fall down. How are we supposed to help you?” Steve knocked on the door to make sure you’re fine.

“You're supers, you can break in.” You called out from the bathroom. You washed your face and finished your business. You stumbled a little but managed to grab onto the doorknob. You twisted it and stumbled out in the waiting arms of two super soldiers.

“Alright, Angel. Let's go to bed.” Bucky tucked you in the middle of the bed, making sure you have no way of getting up.

The two men were about to leave your room when your soft whisper traveled through the room. “Please don't go.”

Your small plea made them weak in the knees and they almost fell to their feet. You were definitely looking like an angel, laying on your bed with glassy eyes. They took off their shoes and got in the bed, one side each.

Their jeans brushed against your thighs and so you got a bit more aware. You pouted at Bucky and asked them to remove their jeans and shirts because they were making you uncomfortable.

They were shocked by it but did what you asked anyway. They were now laying beside you in just their briefs. You shuffled and turned to Steve who was looking at you just like you had always wished for and so was Bucky.

You put your hands on their cheeks and brushed your thumbs against their cheeks. “Please look at me just like that.” Your hands slipped down and you snuggled into the pillow, falling asleep in the warmth of two men who have been haunting your dreams.

……………………..

Bucky and Steve stayed right where you had asked them to. Tears slipped out of Bucky’s eyes.

“This is because of us, isn't it? We are the reason why she's exhausted. We hurt our Angel. We waited way too long.” Bucky wiped his face but the lump in his throat was there to stay.

“But we're here now. We will make it right. We will take care of her. We will never hurt our Angel again.” Steve brushed some stray hair out of your face.

You shuffled in your sleep and snuggled into Steve who immediately wrapped his arms around you and shoved you deeper in his chest.

“She feels so good, Buck. I don't want to let her go.”

“We don't have to. We will go down on our knees to win her if we have to.”

Although they wanted to stay in bed with you till you wake up, they wanted to clean your apartment for you. So they both slowly got up from bed and were about to slip out when a few laminated papers caught their eyes.

They both walked to look at what it was and their mouths stayed agape. Those were the pressed roses. The same roses that they had gotten her. The roses still looked fresh and pink but pressed. Two roses had Bucky’s name on them and the other two had Steve’s.

“Every time we think she’s human, she does something that makes us think she's an angel.” Bucky walked back to bed and kissed your temple. Steve also kissed your temple before they slipped out of the room and took over the cleaning.

While Steve was cleaning the house, Bucky went to the kitchen to cook a fantastic meal for all. He had noticed your sweet tooth for chocolate so he also decided to make chocolate muffins. You surprisingly had all the ingredients for baking but not much for cooking. Bucky sent Steve to buy ingredients to make lasagna and till then he whipped up cupcake batter.

Bucky occasionally went to your room to check how you were doing. You shifted from one side to another but overall you were sleeping peacefully. Bucky was still only in his briefs and your cute pink apron.

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around. You knew that it was too good to be true. You must've walked home and went to sleep. Why would they come here? You gave them nothing but grief and made them feel like you were a prize to be won which was untrue. You weren't a prize, never have been.

A smell of vanilla and chocolate hit your senses and you panicked. Who the hell is in your apartment? You tumbled out of the bed and ran in the kitchen to find a very beefy back staring back at you.

“Angel! You're up!” Bucky turned around and gave you a heart-stopping smile.

“Bu- James! What are you doing here?” You were flabbergasted.

“Angel, call me Bucky. I've told you before.” He put the tray in the oven and set the timer.

“But-”

Bucky walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. “Call me Bucky, Angel.”

“Bucky,” you gulped and your voice softened. “What are you doing here? And, um, is it… is it just you?” Your eyes were wide with curiosity and somewhere, at the back of them, hurt.

“Nope, not alone. Steve has gone grocery shopping for lasagna and I think I also told him to bring pizza with him.” Bucky cupped your face. “You asked us to stay, Angel and we weren't going to leave. We came to talk.”

You pried yourself out of Bucky’s arms and stood at a distance. “I- ok, well, once Steve is back, you both can leave. Sorry for all the inconvenience i caused. You don't have to do anything.”

“Angel, what-”

“I'm back! I got the pizza! Lets wake up Angel and get her to eat and-” Steve sensed a tense situation.

“She wants us to leave.” Bucky’s voice had turned into a whisper.

“What?! No! Angel, no! I- we don't want to go. We want to stay, talk.” Steve just started to beg.

“Why? You don't like me, I'm just a burden. Whatever happened to me today is my problem, not yours. Sorry for troubling you but you don't have to be polite. I'll manage.”

You had withdrawn yourself completely. You didn't deserve whatever they were giving you. You shouldn't be getting between them. You shouldn't even think about them. They deserve better than anybody but you.

“Angel? Baby? What are you talking about?” Steve walked closer to you, trapping you between him, Bucky and the wall.

“I'm just telling the truth. You don't have to take care of me. I dont des- you don't need to do this. Don't be gentlemanly. I appreciate you bringing me home but I've been a burden enough. I don't want you to feel obligated about anything.” You were fidgeting with your oversized t-shirt, unable to look them in the eyes.

“There is no obligation, Angel.” Bucky came closer and moved hair strands out of my face.

“You're not a burden. Why would you think that?” Steve put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed his thumb against my clavicle.

“It is true. Otherwise I wouldn't have put the two of you in any of those awkward positions on that day. You accepted because you expected a normal day out and I ended up making you do things against your will.” Tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at Steve. “You were right, Steve, I am looking for a broken love because that's what I deserve.”

Steve’s heart broke hearing you say that and Bucky’s eyes welled up. They had sent you off to the deep end without even realizing. They should've come to you sooner.

Steve and Bucky dragged you back to your room because you were hysterically crying, unable to breathe. They wrapped you up in your blanket. Both of them moved to each side of you and pulled you closer with your back resting on Bucky’s chest and your head resting on Steve’s.

“Angel, if you would please give us a chance to talk. We have a lot to say and it's not what you think. Will you listen?” Bucky asked the question in such a whispered voice, you couldn't help but nod your head against Steve’s chest. Your breathing had calmed down and their touch was very soothing.

“First of all, you are not a burden and you don't deserve broken love. We just- we got jealous.” Steve started putting sentences together. “Bucky held off his jealousy but I couldn't. It made me think that you had a better shot with someone else and my imagination started running wild.”

“Steve thought, and I did too even if I didn't say it out loud, that if someone else had accepted your email request then you would have picked them over us. That idea didn't sit well with us. We wanted you all to ourselves.” Bucky continued.

You sat up straight and looked at them. “But why would you get jealous?”

“Because, Angel, we fell in love with you.” Steve’s confession stopped your heart. You looked at Bucky with wide eyes expecting it to be a joke but the soft smile on his face and a nod told you it wasn't.

“We had accepted your request because it gave us a chance to experience a romantic relationship for one day without strings and expectations. That's what we thought till we actually met you.” Bucky looked at you adoringly.

“We saw you the first time and we thought what we felt was infatuation. But as the day went on, we drowned in your smile, in your laughter and all the little things you did.” Steve moved hair out of my face. “The first time we realized we were falling in love, it was at the park when we sat together. That entire time felt so… domestic, homey.”

“All that time falling in love with you, we forgot you still thought what was going on was fake.” Bucky intertwined your fingers with his. “So when you talked very casually about things, Steve got pissed and said things he shouldn't have.”

“I'm so sorry, Angel. I was being an idiot. I had never felt this way before. So at home with someone and it pissed me off that someone else could've had my home. I got jealous and I got possessive.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours and Bucky did the same. “We're very sorry, Angel. Please forgive us.”

“But should I say sorry?” You slowly pull away to look at them. “I played with your feelings, didn't i? I should be apologizing for making you think that it was real.”

“So, it wasn't real?” Just one look in their eyes and you knew you had broken their hearts in a million pieces.

“It was! For me it was but I thought you thought I played you and I kinda did if we look at the semantics.” You started to ramble. You wanted to fix whatever this was.

“Angel, if it was real for you and if it was real for us then that means you haven't played us.” Bucky pushed their actual agenda forward. “And even if you were playing with us, which you werent, it would have been a privilege to be played by our angel.”

“Our?” You had been hearing them mentioned as theirs, not Bucky’s or Steve’s but theirs.

“That's what we actually wanted to talk about.” Steve sat up straight. It was time to ask you what they have been meaning to ask. “We have been talking about this, adjusting to this new… idea. We thought it was wrong at first but one of our dear friends helped us figure things out.”

“He means Natasha. Black Widow. Blond hair, murderous eyes, kinda okay face.” Bucky started giving you the context.

“I know who she is and she's hot. Don't put her down like that.” You used to have a crush on her before it had drifted off but you didn't need to tell them that.

“What? I-”

“Buck, not the time.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s chest to stop him. “Back to the point. We thought hard and we only thought of you-”

“Gross.” You made a playful face that earned a chuckle from Bucky and an eye roll from Steve.

Steve pulled you closer to his body, causing you to yelp in surprise. Then you felt a pressure on your back and saw Bucky leaning his entire self on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“We want you to be with us, Angel. Just us three and no one else.” Steve’s chest rumbled with confession and you found yourself blushing. “Would you like that? Being with us? You, me and Bucky?”

“None of that is going to happen if I die under the weight of an old metal person.” You groaned playfully and tried to shove Bucky over, only for him roll on you entirely, crushing you against Steve.

“Bubye Steve. This is the end of the line for me. I'll see you on the other side.” Your muffled speech could be heard through your groans. “Write on my tombstone. Death by Bucky, a heavy cuddler who wouldn't leave his girlfriend room to breathe.”

Hearing you say the last line. They both sprang up and looked at you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you just say you're our girlfriend?” Bucky asked excitedly. If they had tails, it would've wagged itself off their asses.

You rolled your eyes at them and smiled widely with blush creeping up your cheeks. “Yes.”

They both attacked you in a hug and made sure to leave you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle and laugh at their excitement.

“We promise not to mess things up this bad.” Steve kissed your temple.

“But I do want to see the list of men whom you sent the emails to. Gotta know whom to brag against.” Bucky pulled you closer to his chest and kissed the crook of your neck, making you shiver.

All three of you got up from the bed and made your way to the kitchen because your stomach wouldn't stop making rumbling noises.

Once they had fed you well, their words, not yours, all three of you chose to cuddle back in your bed to watch one of the many rom-coms that were your favourites. You looked at both of your sides to see them intensely watching what made you happy.

“Hey guys,” you said, making them look at you. “Thank you so much for looking at me like that.”

“Always, Angel. Forever and always.”