#B.B. Burns

[awfenticwimes]

B.B. Burns, The Apprentice of Evils, happened upon some funny and peculiar magical items in her most recent short-sighted venture. wonder what they do haha

#doodles #art #limes ocs #B.B. Burns #The Suite Escape #pf2e leshy #ocs #you can find these items at https://t0urmaline.itch.io/shortstack #if you wanna #art soup sunday

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

b.b. headcanons (pt. 2) <3

part 1. part 3. part 4.

bucky barnes who lays his head in your lap while you read the hobbit to him for the fifth time in the same week. bucky barnes who never fails to bring you coffee from your favorite cafe when he meets you before noon. bucky barnes who refuses to let you cook after a long day and makes the only dish he's perfected (courtesy of his Ma :). bucky barnes who hides his insomnia from you so you don't worry about him. bucky barnes who gets mad at himself for burning the waffles he makes for you every morning, failing to notice the hearts in your eyes at the sight of him cooking. bucky barnes who claps when the plane lands. bucky barnes who always always always walks on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road so you're protected. bucky barnes who now writes good things that happened to him in his journal (instead of people he's making amends to) so he never forgets how wonderful his life is with you in it. bucky barnes who never fails to remind you every day of how grateful he is to have found you. bucky barnes who hides his face in your shoulder during the gory parts of horror films. bucky barnes who wears an apron with "kiss the chef" on it because he thinks he's being sly. bucky barnes who wears skin-tight henleys around the house. bucky barnes who leaves those henleys lying around conveniently then turns down the temperature so you're forced to wear his clothes <3

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #beefy bucky #bucky #bucky angst #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x female reader

[questionableratatouille00]

Some of my favorite Bucky x Reader fics—obviously not all of them!

These aren’t ordered or anything—please enjoy!

ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

Earthly Possessions @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Bucky agrees to move in with you, but starts acting strange on the day of the move.

B.B. Boy @bucky-bucket-barnes

Bucky and you have been friends ever since he arrived that rainy at the Compound. Silently pining, you’d hope he would pick on the numerous hints you dropped. It’s not until a small miscommunication happens that he confronts his feelings for you. (avenger!reader x bucky barnes)

The Key Jangle @delaber

Sick and tired of your many recent bad dates, you’re dreading yet another Valentine’s day alone. When Bucky offers to show you what a night out is supposed to look like according to him, you get to experience what it’s like to date your best friend. (Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader, fake dating/friends to lovers)

The Swan and the Soldier @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer. 

Pulse @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Stuck Together @lostgirlmuseum

Bug Boy and Big Man get into an argument. Luckily, you’re there to save the day! Until you find yourself in a sticky situation. Things get a little too close for comfort.

ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ

Burning the Midnight Oil @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Bucky says he’s okay. He tells you that he just can’t fall asleep, but his continuous absence from your bedroom spells trouble.

Clean Up Crew @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

You’d do anything for your best friend Bucky. And when he calls you in the middle of the night with a strange request, you jump at the chance to help him.

Fixer Upper @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Bucky knows he’s got issues. But with your help, he’s been making great strides. His long recovery seems to be going well, but he wonders how long you’ll stick around.

Boys Don't Cry @bucky-bucket-barnes

 Bucky keeps all his emotions buried deep within because that’s what he believes he’s supposed to do. One night after he’s attacked, he goes to you searching for some sense of comfort. After a loving conversation, Bucky learns to let it all out. (hurt!bucky x comfort!reader) 

Warrior/Worrier @delaber

After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night (Bucky x Reader, friends to lovers/hurt/comfort)

Lavender  @wkemeup

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know. 

Give Me A Sign @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Reform @shurisneakers

In which he has a breakdown

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #river ratatouille recs

[cherryblossom-heart]

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.

A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics and @cafekitsune

Now  

"Fuck you," you spat the words.    

Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.   

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."   

He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.   

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"   

"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."   

The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.   

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."   

Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.   

A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.   

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.   

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.  

Please, fix this.   

His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.  

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"   

"Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."   

"Can you just—"   

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."   

Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.   

He deserved it either way.  

Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh. 

"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.  

He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.  

With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.  

You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.  

After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him  

The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.  

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.  

His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."  

"Oh."  

Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.  

Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize. 

How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.  

Could you ever forgive him?  

A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.  

To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.  

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take. 

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.  

They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.  

Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.  

Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?  

Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.  

He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.  

He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.  

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.   

Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.  

He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.  

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips. 

The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.  

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.  

Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.  

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.  

But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.  

Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.  

He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.  

"Good"  

Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.  

The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.  

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.  

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"  

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.  

"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.  

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.  

You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.  

After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.  

He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.  

It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.  

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.  

Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.  

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.  

The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.  

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you." 

Then  

Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.  

He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.  

For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.  

He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.  

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.  

Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.  

All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.  

After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.  

It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.  

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."  

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.  

God, you were beautiful.  

Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.  

After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.   

You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.  

His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.  

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.  

He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.  

"I’m James."  

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name. 

Now  

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"  

The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.  

But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.  

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.  

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.  

Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now. 

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.  

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."  

Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.  

But he couldn’t say anything.  

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you. 

"Say something!"  

"You’re beautiful."  

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.  

No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.  

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?  

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."  

You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.  

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.  

A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.  

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.  

Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.  

You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said. 

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.  

"What do you want?" You sighed.  

"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."  

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"  

It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women. 

"They had traces of the super serum."  

Fuck.  

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk. 

"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."  

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.  

"Yeah."  

The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization. 

This was different, though. This was sinister.  

Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.  

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."  

"Well, let’s take him in and—"  

You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."  

Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.  

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.  

Compromise. You could do compromise.  

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes. 

After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.  

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.  

"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"  

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.  

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.  

So he agreed.  

"Yeah."  

"Good. I’ll meet you outside." 

Then  

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.  

Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.  

The man was hotter than the sun.  

"No problem." you smiled at him.   

You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.  

He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.  

And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.  

Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.  

But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.  

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.  

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"  

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."  

"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."  

"You would?" he questioned.  

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement. 

He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.  

You made him smile for the first time.  

"Yeah. I’d like that."  

If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.  

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more. 

Now  

There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.   

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."   

He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.   

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.   

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.   

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.   

Broken.   

He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him   

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.   

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.   

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.   

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.   

"Bucky!"  

Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.  

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.  

Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.  

On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him. 

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?  

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking. 

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."  

"You didn’t."  

You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.  

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.  

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."  

"Oh."  

Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.  

"He said you’re going to therapy."  

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.  

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."  

You hummed, sipping on your tea.  

"Does it work?"  

You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.  

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself  

But he broke the silence.  

"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."  

"What do you mean?"  

He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."  

He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.  

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.  

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."  

He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.  

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.  

Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together  

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.  

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents. 

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."  

His shoulders dropped slightly.  

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."  

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.   

You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed. 

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.  

A cup of lavender tea. 

Then  

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"  

Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.   

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?  

His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.  

You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.  

He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora. 

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.  

One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.  

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.  

"It’s ok. I got you."  

His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed. 

Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.  

He would give you anything you asked for.  

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.  

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth  

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.  

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."  

So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.  

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea. 

 Now  

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.  

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.  

Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.  

You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.  

The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.  

Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.  

The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.  

Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.  

A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.  

It was his fault. It was all his fault.  

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.  

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.  

"I—"  

"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."  

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.  

You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself. 

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.  

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."  

"He was about to torture you!"  

Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.  

"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."  

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.  

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."  

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"  

"I’ve always cared."  

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.  

"Sure."  

Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.  

"Look at me."  

You swatted him away.  

"Don’t fucking touch me."  

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.  

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."  

A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."  

His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.  

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.  

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."  

His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?  

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."  

"I never stopped loving you."  

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation. 

With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.  

"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"  

Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart. 

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you. 

"I’m sorry."  

A lapse of judgment.  

That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.  

The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had. 

You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.  

Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.  

It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been. 

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.  

So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken. 

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."  

Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.  

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.  

He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.  

Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his. 

Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.  

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.  

He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.  

With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.  

Beg me, your eyes said.  

For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.  

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."  

You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.  

You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment. 

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.  

His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.  

"Fuck."  

Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.  

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.  

It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.  

His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.  

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.   

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.  

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.  

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.  

You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.  

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.  

The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.  

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.  

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.  

Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.  

The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.  

Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.  

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.  

"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."  

"Me too." he finally admitted.  

Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.  

You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.  

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.  

"Inside."  

He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.  

You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.  

He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.  

Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.  

For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.  

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.  

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.  

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.  

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever." 

Then  

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.   

It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.  

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.  

You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.  

Oh, how right you had been.  

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.  

The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.  

The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.  

Bucky had been real.  

With his departure, he had also taken your heart. 

After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.  

Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.  

Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.  

You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.  

With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.  

That is, until a ray of hope appeared. 

Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.  

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.  

Steve left shortly after.  

You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.  

It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.   

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.  

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.  

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer. 

This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.  

This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.  

This Bucky never hugged you. 

This Bucky never talked to you with love  only with annoyance and indifference.  

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.  

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.  

This Bucky never said I love you.  

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.  

But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.  

Things got worse a couple of months later.   

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.  

His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.  

After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.  

As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.  

He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.  

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.  

The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.  

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.  

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."  

He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence. 

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.  

Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.  

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.  

"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."  

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.  

You were wrong.  

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.  

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.  

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.  

You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.  

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.  

You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.  

Knock, knock, knock.  

It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.  

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."  

You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.  

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."  

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.  

"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I—I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."  

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.  

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.  

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.  

 You left with half a heart that night.  

Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.  

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"  

The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.  

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.  

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.  

"Hi."  

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.  

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.  

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less. 

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"  

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.  

"Yeah, of sorts."  

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."  

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.  

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.  

"Oh."  

You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.  

The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.  

You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.  

You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.  

Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.  

He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.  

"You have a nice place here."  

The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.  

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.  

He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.  

He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.  

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.  

It couldn’t be.  

You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.  

"Clara let me in."  

No.  

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."  

You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.  

He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run. 

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.  

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"  

His mouth answered without his permission.  

"Does it even matter?"  

Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.  

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."  

You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.  

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore. 

Now  

Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.  

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.  

You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you. 

Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room. 

As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern. 

"You ok?" he had whispered.  

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.  

But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.  

You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out. 

You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.  

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?  

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"  

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"  

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"  

Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.  

You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.  

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.  

The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress. 

After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.  

A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance.  A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.  

You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.  

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.  

His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot. 

After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever. 

Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.  

However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.  

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his. 

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"  

Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.  

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.  

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.  

"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."  

He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."  

A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.  

"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."  

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.  

"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment." 

His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.  

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would." 

You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.  

You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."  

Hope. A tiny silver of hope. 

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"  

You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."  

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to." 

He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness. 

Forever 

"Thanks for helping me."  

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."  

Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.  

It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with. 

In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.  

Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.  

"How was your date?"  

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest." 

During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you. 

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."  

Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Barnes.  

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.  

Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.  

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise. 

"What?"  

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.  

"Bucky, ask me."  

Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.  

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.  

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"  

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.  

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."  

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.  

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different. 

He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.  

This time, neither of you was scared. 

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

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[nexusnyx]

i'll tell you my sins | b.b.

SUMMARY: If religion was the safe haven where Bucky found reasons to be alive and see the good in this world again, loving you was where he found the freedom to be more than just expectations once again. Human emotion, connection and need more than anything else. Also, devotion. Bucky already understood that one, but with you, it reached heights he never dreamt of before.

⚠️ This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex. Religious theme. Smut. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded on any other platform. |  WC: [7.5k]

Everything about her felt forbidden.

From the moment he met her to the moment they befriended.

Every step of the way, every interaction, smile, deep conversation outside the church, random encounters in the city—Bucky knew it. He was aware of it, and yet, he did it anyway. He fell for the power in your voice, for the mind behind those eyes, for the soft and electrifying touch of your hands. Bucky was presented with temptation and he fought it until he longer wanted to. Until all that was left inside of him was desire, longing, and need. Temptation won, but only because there was no game anymore: Bucky was presented with you in his life, and for the first time in many long years, his life expanded once again.

From the moment Laura brought you to the Church's congregation party for the holidays and introduced you, he knew he should stay away.

It was the eyes.

Laura pointed at you, and said, "Father, this is Y/n, my best friend who I'm always talking about."

He had been polite back then. Bit down on his usual winning smile when meeting new people because something about the glint in your eyes hooked a piece of his chest when they met his.

Bucky had given you the polite smile, and said. "I've heard quite a lot about you. Nice to meet you, I'm Father James."

He extended his hand, which you shook without breaking eye contact.

Then, you said: "Nice to meet you, Father," and Bucky's insides burned despite the cold weather surrounding him.

That day, he couldn't escape fast enough.

You were a friend of one of his congregates, so there was no way he could be rude, but every time he glanced in the direction where you were, talking and smiling with other people who frequented the church, your eyes met his and Bucky felt like a deer caught in the headlines.

An animal in the jungle, like one of his favorite documentaries—he suddenly understood the prey when they felt the eyes of tigers and lions on them.

Frozen.

Bucky's throat felt dry every time you did it. You looked at him over the rim of your cup, and it was like your eyes searched for something, and they could see beyond his cassock and coat.

Whatever you were looking for, Bucky wanted no part in helping you find out.

She'll be gone by the end of the day, he thought all night long. There's no need to worry.

If only he knew.

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —

ㅤ

It was a fun discovery to learn that while you believed in nothing, you believed in everything at the same time.

It took Bucky three months of meeting you outside the Church when you picked up Laura from the masses and having brief, but sweet exchanges with you to accept the fact that you were a really nice person.

Funny, intelligent, sweet.

He stopped escaping whenever you were around. Stopped running away whenever Laura brought you by force to one of the fairs or events, and surrendered with ease to the reality of it all: apart from your non-belief, you seemed like someone he'd be close friends with.

Which is where you two ended up after he found you drunk at the city square and walked you home.

That was the first conversation ice-breaker. And from then on, Bucky simply accepted you.

Which meant you know popped up outside the church with good beer and the newest thing you were reading about regarding space to talk to him.

For those visits, you usually showed up at the end of the day, after your work hours. You stayed for a couple of hours talking to him about nonsensical things until a real topic was approached and you two shared things that Bucky forgot he thought about sometimes.

"You know, these are starting to feel like my own confessional," he offered.

You chuckled, hiding behind your beer. He still saw the way your nose scrunched. "I don't know if that's supposed to be a compliment or not."

"It is!" He laughed. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Why wouldn't—Father. C'mon. Those things are creepy as hell."

"First of all: blasphemy. Second of all—stop laughing, I'm serious. That was very blasphemous." He adored listening to your silly laughter. "And second of all: they are not creepy. They're just... methodic."

"Yeah, the method being 'scare people until they talk'. I'll give it to the Church: clever, at least."

He's thinking about that day and the things you said about the hour of Twilight when he hears the doorbell.

Bucky halts everything he's doing.

It couldn't be you.

He looks at the clock—00:52.

Fuck.

What were you doing here?

This week had been hell, both figuratively and literally.

The tragedy that happened in the city and the heartache that followed everyone like a dark cloud ended up inside his church, as darkness usually does. It's where it goes to be diluted, but being the tool of change as he is, Bucky's the one who ends up feeling like a truck ran over his back.

It couldn't be you.

Bucky heard from Laura about how pissed off you were about everything. 'Religious people and their ways of meddling in people's lives and their bodies and their ways of handling life', as you claimed, and everything wrong attached to it.

He hadn't seen you around the city all week long.

"James Buchanan!"

That is definitely your voice.

Bucky swears under his breath, puts on the first hoodie he sees, and doesn't even bother checking on his reflection to know he looks like shit.

He's tipsy and tired, and there's no need to bother putting out his tobacco before he goes downstairs to open the back door for you.

Out of all the people who could see him in this state, you'd be the last one to judge him.

When he opens the door, he sees you're on the same boat as he is.

Tired, and trying to cope.

He sighs, opening the door wider. "Thought you had eloped town by now."

"I unfortunately am stuck to this hell hole."

Turning around, he sees you taking off your boots and placing them on the shoe rack.

"Put on a slipper, it's still wet outside," he tells you. "I was going to bed."

Behind him, he hears the sound of you scoffing. "No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was," he argues.

What follows is silence, and Bucky sighs. You know him too well.

He opens the door that leads to his small herbs garden outside where two chairs are already placed next to each other and waits for you to make yourself at home.

He wonders if it's one of those days.

"You know... you're really nice to talk to, Father James."

He kind of hated when you called him that. It felt teasing. Laced in the taste of wine.

"Do you?"

"I do. You don't shy away from answering questions. People nowadays don't wanna have conversations. It's exhausting. You, though—you... think about it. Answer me. I can talk without feeling like I'm being judged—"

"Oh, sometimes you definitely are."

He likes your laughter. The more it sounds like this—free and caught off guard, the more delicious it is.

"I'll take your word for it. That was just me wanting to thank you for being a nice ear, I guess."

"The same goes for you."

It's becoming more and more common for Bucky to be stuck in a memory of you before reality calls him back to the moment.

The door clicks behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see you holding two beers, a cigarette in one hand, and the tiredness in your shoulders.

Dropping your body to the chair next to his, you hand him the beer and then light up your cigarette.

For a while, all you two do is sit there sharing sips of your drinks and looking at the brick wall ahead of you. Bucky's hyper-aware of you and your movements, as always, and notices from the corner of his eyes when you start distracting yourself with the new flowers in his garden.

It's when he sees a single tear running down your cheek that his body comes alive.

Bucky feels alert in a second.

Sick to his stomach.

He wants to reach out and clean the tear from your cheek, but it wouldn't take away the pain that let it fall.

He waits, though, because he knows you wouldn't be here unless you wanted to talk about it.

Then it hits him—she trusts me.

He has to swallow that pill down with large gulps because it would get stuck in his throat otherwise.

He remembers as clear as day hearing you say how hard it was for you to trust people. To let people in.

"Sometimes, I barely want most people in this town to know I'm a human being. The less they see of me the better, you know? They're just—fucking vultures. Waiting for a sign of weakness to start roaming your body and getting to pick it apart."

Through the sips of his beer, Bucky wonders how many people have seen you cry other than him.

You clear his throat next to him, and all thoughts are vacant from his mind.

He turns his head to you, attention solely focused.

"Did you do a mass?" You ask, voice rough as sandpaper.

You're questioning whether the people who died got a mass this week. Bucky has to breathe through the 'why do you ask, why, but WHY' and simply answers. "I did, yeah."

You nod, sniffle and clear your face in your sleeve. "Cool. That's good."

Bucky feels he'll puke if he doesn't get a little more than that, so he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he can be brave. "There'll be a lantern reunion at the lake."

You turn to him, eyes red and vulnerable, and Bucky has to grip tighter on the can to stop himself from cleaning your tear-stained cheeks once again. "A what?"

"A lantern reunion. It was Laura's idea, actually," your friend was a blessing to his congregation, and it made Bucky smile a little to think so. "People from the congregation will go in a fortnight to the city lake a little further in the mountains and light up little candles in their names. Push it into the lake as sort of a goodbye and a desire for good passage."

"Into heaven?" you ask, smiling sarcastically.

Bucky's gotten so used to it that it doesn't even rattle him anymore.

"Into anywhere," he answers.

The sarcasm drops from your face like rain does out of nowhere from the sky, and you sigh. "That's nice."

"Is it?"

"It is." You take a sip, and Bucky feels it in his chest the blow before it comes. "Naya would've loved it. Probably reminded her of Tangled or something like that."

The name hits clear as day as part of the list Bucky read on Sunday.

"Was she a friend?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Goddaughter."

Your jawline is sharper than ever before. Razor-sharp. Bucky realizes when he pays attention to more than just your eyes, the usual lovely, deep, and telling eyes, that the rest of your face lacks any of your kindness and softness—you're angry. Properly raging, he imagines.

It's the first time he's seen the emotion on you, and it rattles something in the attics of Bucky's brain.

Ghosts of his past, of guns, violence, and the range that humans could go to.

"Tell me about her," the words fall from his lips, and Bucky feels like prey once more when your eyes snap back to him. "If you want to, of course. I—I'd like to hear it."

For a moment, you only watch him, eyes searching all over his face.

"Why?" You ask.

Bucky shrugs his shoulder, sipping a little more. "Because... offering my condolences won't do any good, although you do have them. And talking about the occurrence serves no purpose, either." Both of those options are weak at best. "Hearing about who your goddaughter was, on the other hand, sounds nice." He wonders how close you two were. Was she the daughter of a best friend? Bucky knew you had no sisters. "D'you have sisters?" He asks to confirm. "I thought you didn't."

The ghost of a real smile appears on your face. "I don't."

"Right."

"She's—was... she was my best friend's daughter. Hugh." The smile turns more real than ghost-like. "He and I have been friends since middle school."

Wow. That's longer than Bucky's been in this town. "That is a long time."

"Not that long, c'mon Father. Don't call me old."

Bucky laughs. "You're not a sweet summer child, that's for sure."

"Wow!" You say, joining him in laughter.

"Your generation is a mystery to me, I'll tell you that."

"Ugh—there you go again with 'your generation'. You're not that much older than me, Father," you give him a pointed look.

Bucky hums. "I beg to differ. There's more than a decade bridging this," he gestures between you and him.

"Fine, old man. Whatever you say," you chuckle, and sip the rest of your beer, crushing the can in your hands. "Anyway. Hugh's not usually here—he works two towns over most of the time."

"Is he married?" He asks out of curiosity.

You shake your head. "Nope. Naya's mom was a fling."

"Got it." From that, he deduced you had a lot to do with the girl while growing up. "Was she a lot like you?"

You laugh. "A mix of Hugh and me, yeah. I spoiled her quite a lot."

Bucky smiles. "Tell me more."

And you do.

Bucky listens to you tell him about Naya, and she comes to life inside his mind.

He saw the picture of everyone involved, but now he can see the glint she had in her eyes, the quirks you mention, the passions in her heart.

He does his best to stay present in the conversation, letting go of any pain related to the tragedy in order to give you a good ear as you mentioned he has.

It hurts almost as much as if he was thinking about it all.

The oscillations in your smile between heartbroken and sad, and heartfelt. He feels the changes like shrapnel under his skin.

After a few more beers, the talk changes every now and then. From kids to raising them without parents, to the dangers surrounding newer generations—like always, talking to you is a rollercoaster of topics, and Bucky thinks he's done a good job of taking your mind out of the dark places it was.

Until you stop, look at the wall in front of you again, and the tears start streaming down again.

Bucky's heart breaks all over the wet ground, getting dirt all over the pieces.

He's closing the distance between your bodies before he thinks better of it.

His arms wrap around your shoulders and you bury your face in his chest, letting go of your pain in the safe space of his arms.

Bucky lets you cry for as long as you need to, and when the quiet sobs diminish to only your sniffling, he still holds you close.

"I feel... like barbed wire. I don't know." Your voice is thick with emotion, and Bucky squeezes around you subconsciously. "There's so much rage inside me, Buck."

"That's okay. It's the normal thing to fill you."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew all the things I'm thinking. I—I'm not the best person ever, but the things I'd do right now..."

Bucky shakes his head. You're human, he thinks. "You're a good person even with those thoughts."

"You don't know that," you argued.

"I do, though," Bucky counters. "All the things you want are a response, not an initiative. That's how I know."

At that, you stay in silence. Bucky feels you moving your head—before, you had your forehead resting against his chest, but now you move your head to the side and lay your cheeks against him, making yourself comfortable.

"You'd judge me, though," your voice is barely above a whisper. "They're horrible things."

Bucky scoffs. "I've done my fair share of horrible things in life, Y/n. I'll never be in any position to truly judge someone else," he tells you.

Then it hits him—I trust her too.

"I don't believe that," you whisper.

"It's the truth." Bucky's past is his own, but he allows you to have this. "I was a tool for a long time, one that did many wrong things. I hardly think that you wanting to kill the people who did this with your bare hands is something so atrocious."

"I'd think you'd judge upon murder, Father."

"Not my place to do so," and if he was being honest with himself, never would be. The things he believed in were symbolic.

"Is this what a confessional feels like?" you ask with a chuckle.

Bucky rests his head on top of yours. "It's the idea."

"I like it. It's not so bad." You take a deep breath, and Bucky feels it.

I like it too, he thinks. Why does it feel mutual?

"D'you want some food?" he asks. He needs something to do with his hands that doesn't involve holding you.

It takes you a moment to answer. "Sure." You pull your head back a few inches to look up at him, and the smile he sees in your eyes takes his breath away. "Thanks, Father."

This feels as holy as any of my prayers.

Bucky feels dizzy.

"Thanks for trusting me," he answers, and then lets you go. His arms feel empty and cold the minute they leave your frame. "C'mon. I'll make us sandwiches."

"That's not food," you argue behind him.

"It is in this house," he rolls his eyes, knowing you're just doing it to tease him. "Ungrateful youth, I swear."

"I'm not being ungrateful, I'm being factual. You know, back during the Roman Empire in Grece, they..."

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —

ㅤ

The night of grief changes nothing and everything at the same time.

Bucky knew you were a person beneath all the exterior of perfection, but it takes seeing you cry for him to realize why he deemed everything he saw to be that way—he saw beauty even in your imperfections. He met you by chance, befriended you by fate, and because the Universe wrote you and him to be this way, something about your existence read as beautiful from top to bottom. Breathtaking. It never occurred to him that he'd find something else to look at and see unadulterated and raw light, but there you were. Whether it was talking to friends, working, running past him at eight in the morning, or crying in his arms, the aura around you glowed in holy light, and Bucky had only one night of absolute existential crisis before acceptance washed over him.

He might have found his peace in god, but the god he believed in never excluded the Nirvana existing in love.

Accepting things as they were hurt much less.

— ✞ —

Everything about him felt holy.

The whole month you stayed away from him, that's all you could think about.

Bucky felt holy. His blue eyes on you, the gentleness in his words, and the shy cocking of his neck whenever he was under the light of a compliment—holy, holy, holy.

That's why you hated how much you desired to corrupt all the purity within every thought permeated by him.

It made you a little sick at first. Desiring him and still talking to him normally as if you didn't touch yourself to thoughts of Bucky fucking you and stretching you around his cock while filth dripping from his lips was a hard task, but no one could say you were one to shy away from a challenge.

All of that goes away when he cooks for you.

The shame in wanting him.

From that day on, you allow your mind to drift wherever it pleases.

To his words, his eyes, his lips, the feeling of how strong his arms were — how did I miss that, what is that damn black thing hiding, why does it feel so warm and firm, oh my god — and anything in between. His voice. The way he curses under his breath as if Jesus is not listening if he talks low enough. How much lower his voice can go.

Letting all those thoughts roam free is both a blessing and a curse.

When you see him the day following a dream where Bucky did all the things your mind wanted him to and a bit more, you realize where the curse part walks in.

It's hard looking him in the eye when you have vivid images of his hand gripping your neck. It's sad that all you have is images, but they're more than enough to make you take a step back every now and then.

You can't get wet if you don't get a whiff of his perfume.

Can't feel embarrassed and hot all over if he doesn't make one of his silly jokes under his breath.

It takes you a few weeks of escaping him here and there before you receive it, at 11:50 pm on a Monday night:

What would you say if I told you I need my confessional bubble?

The message stares at you, and you stare back.

The feeling of his hug around you comes to you like the scent of someone being dragged by the wind.

Where are you?

The church. I was organizing some stuff. Come over?

Not one to say no to him, you drive there with your heart beating in your palms and the familiar knot on your throat of someone haunted by their own thoughts.

At the church, you find Bucky with a glass in his hands and all the pictures and remains of the shrines packed in one corner.

"Evening, Father."

Bucky turns around sharply, and you see that he's not drunk nor tipsy yet. His look is sober, and his eyes lighten in color when they see you.

"Hey." He points to the stuff on the floor. "I'm gonna put this in the back. I'll be back in a minute—you're very fast. How fast did you drive?"

Probably too fast because I was anxious. "Maybe you're just slow, Father James."

Bucky's eyes narrow, and your mind goes oh-oh. He looks at you with narrowing eyes, but then the mirth is back on his face. "Ha ha." He picks up the boxes. "I'll be back."

"Won't I burn in your absence?" You call after him, trying to contain your smile.

Bucky looks over his shoulder just so you can see him rolling his eyes.

You chuckle. Was there even a need to be nervous?

This is Bucky.

James. Father James. He's a good guy, and a great friend, and a pretty funny person for someone who is so mysterious.

In his absence, you start walking aimlessly through the church.

You're here very rarely. Paying attention to the details of it is not the first thing in your mind but, with nothing to do, you notice all the beauty in the place: the colorful glasses, how polished and shiny the wood benches and every other wood surface looks, and then it catches your eyes.

On the far right corner, close to the altar, there it is.

The confessional.

You're walking to it before you notice what you're doing.

It's bigger than you expected.

Your hand comes up to touch the wood and its patterns—the velvet drape which closes one of the sides is blood red, and you raise both eyebrows at it.

Gorgeous.

The other side is closed with a wooden door, though. You imagine it's where the priest enters, and because you're friends with the one who runs this church, you let yourself in.

The space is big enough to fit two adults if they're squeezed close together.

You take a seat, looking over the side where you can see very little from the open spots in the wood.

Then, you hear his footsteps coming back out there.

"Y/n?" He calls out, sounding confused.

You think about coming out, but then...

Confessional bubble.

You open the door minimally, put only your hand outside, and wave. "Here," you singsong.

There's a second of silence in which you wonder if Bucky is genuinely offended for the first time about something you're doing, but then you hear his laughter approaching.

You hear his body passing through the drapes and sitting next to you.

"Not where I'd expect to find you," he says from the other side.

It's with the first sentence that you realize what a terrible, miscalculated, poor idea this was.

Your senses go from 0 to 100 in a second. They're all tunneled to his voice, and you can smell his perfume permeating the small space.

"Y/n?"

"I was curious," you answer. Your voice is low, and you swallow down the nervousness. It should be fine. What could go wrong? "Plus... this seems like a cool bubble."

"I told you it was, you never trusted me in that," he answers.

You chuckle. "I didn't know about all the velvet." And the stripping of your senses. God, I feel dizzy.

"It's charming, isn't it?"

You are, your traitorous mind replies. "Yup." You take a deep through your mouth and let it out slowly. "What was in your mind, young padawan?"

Bucky laughs. "Wrong religion."

"Right, my bad—what's in your mind, my sheep?"

"You're not so bad at this."

"And you're great at deflecting," you bite back, smiling already. Your body relaxes on its seat, and you start picking on your t-shirt. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I did." Bucky hums. "Didn't think you wanted to, though."

What? "What?"

"I was gonna ask you to go grab a bite with me so I could hear how you've been doing these past couple of weeks. I haven't seen much of you," his voice sounds a little small, and you hate yourself for a second. "I imagine you're busy."

Does trying to get rid of thoughts of your naked count as busy?

You bite your bottom lip nervously. "Not that busy," you reply. "Just... processing."

"Right. I thought about that too," he says. Bucky takes a deep breath and you can hear that too. "I just... missed your company."

You smile at that. "Awn. Thanks, Buck. I missed you too."

"Did you?"

"Of course," you say. "You know I like your company better than most. More than, like, 99% of this town, for sure."

"I'm flattered," he chuckles. "I thought I did something wrong, that's all. I—you'd tell me if I had, right?"

That ties knots inside your brain. Your neurons seem to clash with each other, and you look from side to side trying to find out if that was a joke.

"What could you possibly have done to me?" You ask with laughter.

"Dunno." Bucky seems to be thinking, so you wait. "I can be annoying sometimes."

"Have you met me?"

He laughs again. "You're peculiar."

"Most people go for 'annoying'."

"Most people are pussies," he replies back so quickly that you burst out laughing.

"Father James!" You tell him in a reprehending tone. "This is not the place for such language."

"I think you'll find out that we're in the only place of holy grounds where you can say whatever the fuck you want," he chuckles.

"Is that so?"

You can almost see him shrugging his shoulders. "It's how I always felt."

"Cool. This is the blind spot, then?"

"Exactly." Bucky seems to be tapping on the wood, and you recognize his nervous tick. "Maybe you can use the blind spot to tell me why you've been avoiding me, then."

Shit.

The silence is as much of a confession as you trying to play it dumb would be.

"Y/n..."

You hate how he makes your name sounds like a plea.

"You didn't do anything wrong," you tell him. "I swear."

There's a heartbeat of silence, and Bucky seems to believe you. "Okay." The sound of a thud tells you he rested his head against the wall at the back, and you do the same. "So... did something happen? To you, I mean."

Yeah, you did.

Thinking that's not the reply he wants, you hum thoughtfully. "I'm... trying to work with life's limitations."

There's another moment of quiet, and then Bucky snorts. "That was vague as shit, Y/n."

"It's the truth!" you laugh.

"I know it is, but it doesn't explain anything," he counters. "What limitations?"

How do I answer this? How do I tell him it's him without putting him under the spotlight? I don't wanna lose you, Bucky. I like what we have. I like this.

You like him.

"No judgments. Remember?" He asks.

Fuck. Fine, here goes nothing, you think. "I... have been thinking a lot. About someone. In ways that I'm not sure this person would want me to."

Out of all the silences, this is the heaviest one.

You hear him breathing in deep, and it feels like his body has strings attached to yours.

"You're insecure about having... feelings for this person?" His voice is rough. Carefully curated out of any emotions.

You realize you're speaking to Father James rather than Bucky.

"Kinda," you reply, surprised that you don't care about the switch in roles.

"Why would they be bothered?"

The million-dollar questions.

Your palms are sweating. Your body has the low humming of when blood is pumping everywhere at a higher speed, and all the anxiety you had when you first saw his message rushes back.

"'Cause I'm pretty sure they'd view it as... something bad," you reply.

"Feelings are never bad."

"No?"

"No. They're natural. The person might not want them, but if they view them as bad, that means they're not worthy of it."

"No—what I meant is—maybe they would feel bad about being on the receiving end of it."

"Again, that makes no sense. Why would they be offended by it?"

"I don't know. 'Cause they don't want me?"

"That's their loss. Still doesn't mean your feelings are bad. They could be unreciprocated, but never bad."

"Maybe that's what I'm scared of," you confess. Fuck, this thing works. "I don't wanna face the fact that it could never be mutual."

"That is scary," he whispers. You still hear it.

"Yeah."

"You'll never know, though. Unless you tell them, you can't know if it is or not."

You laugh, humorlessly. "I don't think I need to. Not for this."

"Why not?" asks Bucky.

"Because the chances of him wanting me or anything are slim to none."

"I find that hard to be true, Y/n."

"What percentage of priests lead a personal life outside their calling, Father James?"

The question comes out breathless and it finishes the job of setting your body on fire.

On the other side, the silence is deafening. You can't see him, but your mind paints the picture easily: Bucky standing there, frozen in his spot as the realization dawns on him.

Then, his reply comes and what was left of your body turns to dust.

"A low percentage. But some of us do."

You have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a whine. His name still comes out. "Bucky."

"You've been thinking about me all this time and you thought I would be upset about it?" He sounds breathless. Your body is not only alive now, but it's also starting to respond to the drop in his voice.

"They're not very holy thoughts," you chuckle humorlessly.

"Tell me."

Two words and your legs constrict against one another. Your core feels like a furnace, heating up more and more by the second.

"I... are you serious?"

"Very." Bucky sounds as affected as you. "Tell me what thoughts were so bad they drove you away from me."

"I... I had dreams." You want to touch yourself so badly that you start squirming in your seat. "About you."

All he does is hum in reply.

"You kissed me. And then... you told me I was going to accept all that you wanted to give me. And I said yes. So you started to get... more—of me. You took off my clothes. And said you needed to let out some... steam. To let out some things that have been inside of you."

There, your words were cut short.

The images of Bucky kneeling in front of you and eating you out like he never had a meal before in his life.

"Go on," his voice breaks through the smoke.

It sounds like an order.

Your body shudders, and you try to grip on reality before the dreams take over. "You ate me out." The whisper sounds louder than any of his sermons you had the pleasure of hearing. "And..." I can't say it. I can't. You can feel the wetness dripping to your panties, and you have to sit on top of your hands to stop them from starting to roam your body.

"Finish it."

Where did he learn to command people like that?

"I asked to do the same." How could you not? All you wanted was to choke on the weight of Bucky on your tongue. "And then you fucked me. Slowly. And... kept telling me about how long it had been. How good it felt to stretch me out." Why am I going into details? You whimper. "Bucky."

"Is that why you were away? You dreamt about me being inside of you and that's it—your brain stopped working around me?"

"I got off to those dreams too many times to not think about them when I saw you."

"Fuck." Bucky must move next to you because you hear the sound of his clothes ruffling. "You touched yourself thinking about them?"

"Yeah."

You hear his breath intake, and the next sound drops your heart to your feet.

Bucky gets up, the drapes ruffle and then, the door of the confessional is opening.

The sight of Bucky standing tall over you with his black t-shirt tucked inside his pants and the tent of his dick straining against his slacks makes your mouth dry before it starts to water.

"Show me," says Bucky. Then he drops to his knees in front of you, reaches both hands to your knees, and places them there. He looks up into your eyes to ask, "Can I?" and you nod, dumbly and shaking, as Bucky spreads your knees open. You're wearing loose pants, and his hands go further up to their hem so he can pull them down.

Allowing him to leave you in nothing but your panties feels like a fever dream.

With your pants pooling in your ankles, Bucky lets hands drag on the skin of your legs and thighs.

"You're right," he says. "It's been years." His hands reach your waist, and your shaking comes to a halt with the firmness that they touch your pelvis bones. "And yet, I think I've thought more about pleasure and connection these past months than I did my whole life." Bucky moves his body closer until he's nestled between your legs, and when his head inches closer to your cunt you realize what he's about to do, whining at the thought. "I dreamt about this, too."

He presses his nose on the hood of your pussy, inhaling deeply and making your legs turn from solid to liquid.

Bucky runs his nose there, and when he hums against your core, you feel it inside of you. "You smell so fucking good, dove."

"Oh, god."

Bucky gropes your ass and shakes his head. "No. Forgot my name already?"

"James, please. Please," you whine, your legs coming up to his shoulders.

He lets you, helping your legs to secure around his neck, and when you look down and see he's smiling, you know you're fucked.

"It's been a while, so let me take my time. I think I still remember how to do this," Bucky says.

Then, he pushes your panties to the side and groans out loud.

"So fucking wet for me. Shit." He pushes his nose again, getting it wet with your slick. "Fuck," he dives in.

Bucky's tongue gives gentle licks against your clit, as if savoring it first.

When he feels your legs spreading wider and he has more room to work with, he truly starts his job. His tongue licks on your folds, then dips from the bottom all the way up, licking a stripe across your cunt before his mouth attaches itself to your clit.

Bucky sucks on the hard nub with his tongue, alternating between slow and hard-pressured jabs to quick flicks of his tongue from side to side.

Your hands are covering your mouth to stop the screams from coming out.

He slurps on the slick and the more the works his tongue on your clit and then pushes down to your open cunt, the wetter you get.

Time ceases to exist with Bucky knelt between your legs.

He goes slow, then fast, then very slow just to hear your whines getting louder. He laughs in your pussy, and the vibrations crawl up inside of you.

At one point he looks up and with a hard grope on the back of your thighs gets your attention on him again.

His beard is glistening, wet. He's smiling like he's seeing something funny for the first time in ages, and when he asks, "Do you like penetration?" as if he doesn't know the answer, you feel like crying.

"Please."

He takes pity on you. "It's okay, dove." Bucky's right hand leaves your legs and his fingers join his mouth between your legs. He coats his fingers in your slick before he pushes the middle one all the way in, slowly at first, then he removes it all the way and pushes back in with his tongue.

"Bucky!"

"Hmhm," he hums against your pussy. "Is this what you dreamt of, dove?" He asks before latching onto you again and sucking on your clit like it's a lollipop.

The coil in your lower stomach seems like a rubber band ready to snap, but you need more.

"Bucky. Bucky," you call.

"Hm?"

"I wanna cum with you inside me. Please?"

Bucky's hand squeezes involuntarily on your leg. He looks up and kisses your inner thigh. "You do?"

"Please."

"Will you let me take you for a bite afterward since I couldn't help myself and I'm doing everything backward?" He asks, already getting up.

You nod a bit desperately. "I'll let you bite anything, just—please."

He laughs. "Get up."

You do, and it's a tight squeeze to switch places with him, but you two manage. Bucky sits on the place you sat and unbuttons his pants, pulling out his cock from the confine of his briefs.

You step out of your pants and sit on his lap, trying to keep all the feelings daring to pool out inside while you feel like everything about you is already stripped bare in front of him.

"You sure you want this, yeah?" I asked.

At that moment, Bucky pulls you close by his waist. It's almost easy (keyword being almost) to ignore the outline of his hard cock between your legs when he's holding your face like this.

There's barely any light illuminating the inside of the confessional, but there is enough for you to see him glowing. Glistening. Smiling like he's watching something unfold.

He holds your face in his hand and pulls you in for a kiss.

I hadn't kissed him yet.

Bucky kisses you with slow, soft tenderness at first.

It's almost his way of saying he means everything—he means this, and he means what he said about being a part of the cleric who still allows themselves to have a life outside their work.

When his tongue opens up your mouth sinfully, that's when you feel him twitch underneath you.

His arm around your waist pulls you even closer, and you get him. You'd want to merge with him right now if you could.

"Put me inside you," he pulls back his face only a few inches to say those words, then dives in for another kiss.

Your mind is too dizzy with everything that is James to do anything but obey.

You reach beneath you to hold his cock in your hands and guide it to your entrance.

Perhaps you should care that none of you discussed the important things you should have before you let him inside you, raw and deep like this, but all you want is this:

Feeling him stretch you out.

When his tips fit and you can let go, both of you groan at the same time. He's big.

He's thick, and he's leaking, and when the tip pushes in, gliding easy with how wet you are, you have to pull back from his kiss so you can breathe.

Bucky groans louder and hides his face in the crook of your shoulder.

"You're big," you whisper, sliding down further until he's bottomed out. "Oh my..." can't call out for Jesus, but you're still shaking and finding a new reason to worship right there and then. You might be drunk on desire, or drunk on how high Bucky made you by eating you out, or how close you were to cumming before he made you get up. Maybe all of the above. "Father James—feels so good."

The slap comes as a surprise, but the sting and your scream are both pleasurable.

"Don't call me that again," he growls. He bites your neck, and moves his hip for the first time.

"Why not," you whine. It feels so good. You feel so full. "Feel so full, Bucky."

"I know, dove." He bucks his hip upwards, thrusting deep and slow. "You're so fucking tight," his voice is strained, and you pull his face back to yours, cupping his neck. With his eyes on yours, Bucky's face softens. "Feels good?" He asks with another pointed thurst.

You nod, riding him in the same rhythm as his thrusts. "Hmhm."

"You look beautiful on top of me," he mutters, kissing your chin, you cheeks, and your eyelids, each kiss pointed with another deep thrust.

"We're gonna do this again, right?"

Bucky hums, and thrusts harder. FUCK.

"Ah, there it is," he mutters, as if talking to himself. "Was looking for that." He thrusts again, confirming to see if he's found your g spot. The way you clench and moan his name is enough of an answer. "We'll do this many more times. I just—need—fuck, need to do this proper." Bucky pins your hips in place and takes over the movements. "Shouldn't be fucking you, dove. Not here, not like this."

"I'm so fucking wet, Buck," you cry. "You wouldn't let me go home to get off thinkin'—oh—about you—fuck, right there;"

"I wouldn't?"

"Bucky." It's louder than before. Both a moan and a prayer.

His thrusts become more erratic, and Bucky's own moans and prayers start sounding much like yours.

So tight, dove. Fucking made for me. Stop clenching your pussy, Y/n, fuck. I'm gonna fill you up, d'you want that? Hm?

"Don't pull out," you whine.

"No?"

"No." You shake your head. He should, your mind says. I don't care, your body responds, hips going harder to meet his harsh thrusts.

"Want to feel me leaking out of you?"

Fucking hell. Where was this holy mouth hidden? "Yes!"

"Say it," Bucky's grunting, and his forehead is sparkling with sweat, and you feel the sweat dripping down your back.

"Wanna feel you dripping out of me, Buck."

"Fucking—Y/n, I'm gonna cum. Are you close, dove?" He holds you by the neck, and brings your mouth to his. "Tell me how to make you cum. Tell me."

"Hard. Deep."

Bucky's a good listener anywhere. He pins your hip in one place, buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you and mutters about how good it is to feel your cunt stretching out around his cock, then pistons his hips in place just like that, hitting that spot inside of you so mercilessly that you're excused to scream as much as you do.

When you yell that you're gonna cum, all he says is, "Please. Please, dove. Show me. Cum for me. Cum only for me, Y/n."

With another scream that leaves your throat aching, you feel your walls convulsing and your legs shaking as an orgasm knocks you out.

Bucky cums by muffling his own screams in your neck, and you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you.

If there were any ways for you to not surrender and devote to him, they're all burned and gone.

This feels like the beginning of all things holy for you.

part two →

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[theconstantsidekick]

heyyyy...how are you doing.????

I was just wondering that if you have the idea of writing one shots for static verse , could you.. maybe write something where static takes Bucky as her date to her Harvard reunion...

may be when she was studying , everyone used to be so jealous of her cuz she is basically a sassy smartass...but now in the reunion they are acting so nice because she is a lawyer/avenger.. Definitely faking niceness...

and Jamie boy being too proud of his girl...

The Class of '92 | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Fluffy with a chance of angst.

Summary: Y/n goes to the Harvard Reunion to reap the benefits of the alumni fees she's been giving out for the last three and a half decades.

(This takes place after the events of Static: Get, Set, Glitch. However, it can be read as a stand-alone piece. But it’s fun. I promise.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use, Mentions of Sex, Minors DNI, 18+ Only.

a/n: I think I strayed a little away from the original premise? I'm sorry?

Bucky Barnes, The Boyfriend (other one-shots) | The Falcon, The Winter Soldier and Static | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Static Verse Masterlist

If she were being completely honest, she never entertained the idea of going to her class reunions. The whole ‘being-half-alien-aging-like-a-nebula-and-looking-the-same-for-years-on-end’ thing kinda took the wind out of her sails whenever she even thought about accepting the invite.

But that was then. 

Now people know who she is, what she is. No more reasons to hide, no Ross on her ass trying to hunt her down for the Accords, no giant purple grape looking alien knocking at the door threatening to burn the world down, no younger brother constantly being confused as her older brother.

Fuck. She’ll never get used to that.

The moment the invitation popped up on her laptop screen, her first reaction was to call Tony.

“You’ve got Tony Stark. I’m probably busy saving the world or curing a hangover. You can leave a message at the beep but I only get back to people if they’re hot. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will delete your message if you’re not. You’ve been warned.” The pre-recorded voice-message cut off with a beep.

Exhaling harshly, she spoke softly, “I was calling to ask you if you wanted to go to my reunion with me. Free booze, snobby assholes, jealous losers who hate me for being smarter, and did I mention the free booze? Totally your scene.” She fidgeted with the folder on her desk, nervous about a voicemail. “But you’re busy… being a dead dick so… So I guess I’ll just skip it this year as well.”

Life had other plans, though.

Well, her beloved boyfriend James Bucky Barnes did.

“I can go with you?” He offered. 

“What?” she asked him, confused.

“To the reunion,” he answered easily, his eyes still fixed on the omelet he was making for her. “I can go with you. Can’t guarantee I’ll be as fun company as your brother, but I can show you a good time. Pull out all the stops, be the trophy husband of a lifetime.” He smiled at her then. “Only if you want to, though.”

And now here they were. 

“This was a bad idea,” she comments, sipping on her drink.

“Why?” Bucky asks her, more confident than her—which don’t get her wrong was hot as fuck, but very unlike them.

“They’re all… they’re all—”

“Old?” Bucky finished with an amused smile. 

She couldn’t help the smile that slipped out.

He looks good, comfortable and sen-fucking-sational. He’s wearing a black tux with a white shirt and black bowtie. She’d been a little too busy trying to decide what to wear to have noticed him changing into the outfit. Eventually, having finalized on a white twill suit and a blood red silk shirt with a matching tie, she stepped out of her room. And he was a fucking vision.

Looking at him might just be her favourite hobby. She could pursue that shit as a vocation.

“That happens sometimes.” Bucky tells her. “People do get old, you know?”

She looks around at the crowd. They’re at the prime location for people watching, standing at the bar, far in the corner of the vast room. The lights are dim, only sprinkles of yellow scattered around the venue, the rest is overshadowed by a sea of ocean blue. So, she takes the moment, the isolation and takes a while to soak in his words. 

‘People do get old.’

“Yeah… yeah. I know,” she responds solemnly.

He takes a moment too, not to look at the crowd. Bucky seldom looks at anything with interest apart from her. He does the same now, he looks at her, studying the expression on her face. With his assessment done, he says, “I’ve never seen you nervous before.”

“I’m not nervous,” Y/n bites back, scolding him with absolutely no heat whatsoever.

“I’ve never seen you anxious before,” he amends.

Rolling her eyes, “I’m not anxious.”

“Scared?”

She has to look at him then. Brows furrowed, she frowns. 

Bucky throws up his hands instantly, admitting his mistake with an adorable smile.

“I used to steal Bruce’s homemade tacos before he learned to control the Hulk,” she smiles too. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

He takes a step closer to her, his words are softer when he speaks but bold enough for her to hear with ease. Gently placing his hand on the small of her back, he asks, “Then what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I wasn’t exactly… well, let’s just say there’s a reason I avoided going to class when I was in college,” she answers. Bucky’s face scrunches up at the insinuation.

But before he can enquire about it any further, before she can warn him, a voice cuts in.

“That was because you used to be a facetious little know-it-all,” the man comments. “You didn’t need the classes anyway.” He smiles, and there is no warmth in it.

Bucky must notice because his arm tightens just a little around her.

This was bound to happen sooner or later. She decides to roll with the punches. She knew what she was getting into when she came here.

“Charles Walton,” she greets him with a smile, just as dead as his. “Been a long time.”

“I’d say the same, but you look exactly the same as you did back then—not a hair out of place. I’m not sure time even passed,” he jokes, or well he tries.

“What can I say? It’s the price of being an Avenger,” she bites back.

He laughs, a hollow thing. “Hey, Milkovich!” He yells out over her head. “Guess who showed up!”

Well, fuck.

That one shout is enough to draw the attention of the entire class of 92. Cause almost instantly there’s a crowd gathered around Bucky and her. There’s chuckles and whispers among them—some are bewildered at her presence while others seem itching to make this a battlefield. 

“Ah, the famous Avenger,” a female voice chimes in. “You're famous around these parts, you know?” She takes a couple steps closer to them. Assessing her from head to toe, “Not just for being an Avenger, but being so elusive that you didn’t show up for a single reunion… But at least now we know why.”

“Nice to see you too, Seline,” Y/n tells her, calm and centered.

“Shit, Stark!” Mickey Milkovitch balks. “You look the fucking same!” 

And fine, she can take it from Milkovich. The guy was always crass but never rude. He just lacked a fucking filter.

So the smile that she smiles is open and kind. “Thanks, Mick. I could say the same about you.” She’s not lying. The guy looks pretty good for his age… and for the copious amount of alcohol she remembers him consuming during every party and every lecture.

“Not as good as you, holy shit! You really don’t age, do you?” He asks and it’s genuine so again, he gets a pass.

Nodding, “Not enough. My telomeres don’t work right, I think. Rest of me is human… mostly.”

And Mickey seems to take a lot of pleasure in her answer—smiling, he holds up his glass to cheers. She meets him with her own glass.

“Can’t lie, it’s a surprise to see you here,” another woman speaks up. “We thought we’d seen the last of you at the graduation.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, Candace. I saw the invite and I just couldn’t help myself,” Y/n bites back.

“Didn’t have time for us before?” Candace Huston asks.

“Ah.” Y/n never really liked these snobby prep school kids. Even after all these years, they’ve somehow managed to not change at all. She doesn’t know why she expected them to. “I was a little caught up.”

“Saving the world?” Archer Bass suggests, mocking.

“Yes,” Bucky cuts in before she can form some modest version of that answer. She can always count on him to stump the opposition while she reloads. “That’s the day job. Doesn’t pay as well as whatever it is you guys have been doing. And oh! Odd hours, really odd. But it’s good work, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?”

She smiles, finding comfort in the warmth of his gaze. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been a Personal Injury Lawyer.” Bucky smiles at that and fuck if that doesn’t just rile her up. “Oh! I almost forgot, this is my boyfriend—”

She’s cut off by Charles ‘Chickenshit’ Walton, “The Winter Soldier. We know who he is.”

“At least he’s a looker,” Seline snickers. “I’ll give you that.”

“The two of you make a great couple—The Winter Soldier and Static, ex assassin and ex assassin,” Candace adds with a snide smile. There’s more catty bullshit like that from the rest of the crowd but she kinda zones out.

And fuck it all to hell.

Her entire college life was avoiding these fools.

All her life she’d watched shows about the shitshow that is high school. She hadn’t attended it, of course but Harvard was supposed to be her first try. It was supposed to be her playing her hand at being utterly and completely normal, one with the crowd. College wasn’t supposed to be as brutal as highschool but not as uncaring as a desk job. It was supposed to be an easy middle between the two. Part of her was excited even. But the reality wasn’t all that movies made it out to be.

They were snobs, the fucking lot of them. Always looking at every tiny little detail, studying it a microscope, planning and scheming to find a chink in her armour just to break her down. She didn’t understand why then. Why they didn’t like her, why she was the outsider. Because despite everything she wasn’t exactly that different from them, not to their knowledge at least. Howie was fucking loaded, ipso facto she was too. None of them knew her past but everytime they looked at her their eyes were always hungry, always searching for some weakness.

She gets it now.

It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t some twisted version of distrust.

It was straight up jealousy.

They were jealous of her.

They were jealous of her back then and if possible they are even more jealous of her now.

Y/n just laughs. She can’t help it, okay? It’s hilarious.

She really, genuinely believed at one point in her life that these fucking dipshits would figure out her secret, when all they were looking for was a way to top the class. These are some of the smartest individuals she’s come across—graduates of Harvard Law. Fuck! They were just kids fighting for brownie points when she was fighting for her freedom. God fucking damn it, she’s been so damn dumb. 

So she laughs.

Bucky looks at her for a second, raises his brow in concern. She waves her hand at him, letting him know she’s fine. It’s just funny.

“Something funny, Stark?” Archer asks, wearing a smile on his face that contradicts his tone which is just a little too shrill to be considered calm.

She shakes her head but continues chuckling.

“Don’t wanna share it with the rest of the class?” Charles bites. “Guess some things just don’t change.”

Y/n laughs a little harder. “My god, Charlie. You sure I’m the only one not aging here? Cause you sound like a sullen teenager.” She waves off his response before he can even form one. “Anyway, as I was saying, this is my boyfriend, Sergeant James Buchanon Barnes.” She drops a kiss on his cheek. “You can call him Sergeant Barnes… Well, except Milkovich. He’s just Barnes to you, Mick.”

Mickey seems pleased with her words, “Nice to meet you, Barnes.” He extends his hand to Bucky who takes it without hesitation. “Always thought your arm was really cool.” 

That one throws Bucky a little. He looks back at her, eyes big and a sneaky curve of his lip. It screams, ‘Where the fuck did you find this guy?’ But like she said, no filter on that one. 

“Why does Milkovitch get special treatment?” Seline rebukes her.

Y/n just shrugs. “Cause he wasn’t a dick to me in college?” Isn’t it obvious?

“Excuse me?” Candace exclaims like the hit was personal. “We were never anything but generous, which was more than what you deserved considering the shit you pulled.”

“One, that is wildly inaccurate. You were all dicks, all of you. But I don’t think I blame you for it, pompous kids do what pompous kids see. And two, what shit did I pull?” She waves at the bartender asking for a refill.

“You are seriously going to pretend you don’t know?” Archer throws back.

Taking the last sip from her drink she sets the now empty glass down on the nearest table. “Yes, enlighten me.”

“You were sleeping with Professor Keating to get the answers to all the tests,” Charles answers, disdain clear on his face.

“I—” She looks from his face to Bucky's, who feigns shock before breaking into a smile.

Charles cuts her off. “You hid it well enough but everyone knew you spent most of the free time between classes in his office. You scored well in every single one of his tests, which were impossible to crack and he was always so very eager to call on you in class.” He scoffs. “We were never able to find any concrete evidence to pin you down, we’ll give you that. But that doesn’t mean we were naive enough not to see it.”

“I—” She begins laughing again. “Professor Keating.” Fuck.

“What’s so fucking funny, Stark?” Archer pushes her. Well, he tries but before he can grab the collar he was reaching for, Bucky’s metal arm is already pulling him off.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Bucky warns.

“Get your hands off me!” Archer tries to brush Bucky off, pushing him back, trying desperately to get out of his grip, but come on. It’s Bucky. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Saving you the ass beating of a lifetime, buddy boy. Be glad it’s me and not her,” Bucky comments causally as he twists Archer’s arm behind his back.

“It’s fine, Sunshine. Let him go,” she coos at him sweetly.

And because he’s Bucky, he urges Archer to take a few steps away from her and then simply lets him go.

“Are you still mentally unstable?! How dare you touch me? I’m gonna sue your Nazi ass for that!” Archer warns. 

“I mean, you can try. But he’s got a great lawyer,” Y/n tells him, grabbing her new drink from the waiter. She takes a sip. “Got him pardoned for countless assassinations. You think assault is where I lose that battle?” The blood drains from Archer’s face, all the color is gone. “And as for the Professor Keating matter,” she giggles again, before forcing herself to compose. “He was ex-KGB. I used to hang out with him after class to find out if he knew the updated location of HYDRA bases.”

“Ex-KGB?” Seline asks, just as pale as Archer.

“You expect us to buy that bullshit story? His name was Arthur Keating for Christ’s Sake!” Candace shouts.

“Which he changed when he asked for political asylum here. His real name was Boris Levitsky. His family was murdered by HYDRA when he couldn’t free some official high in their ranks. After that he was fairly willing to spill all about them,” Y/n explains.

“To a college student?” Charles question, clearly not buying it.

“To an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. operative,” she corrects.

“You were an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. operative back then?” Bucky asks her, reclaiming his position next to her with a steady arm around her waist.

“No,” she tells him. “But he didn’t know that.”

Bucky’s face breaks into a proud smile. The sprinkles of yellow around the venue seem to be attracted to her sun. They fall softly on his face, lighting up the curve of his cheekbones, the smile lines around his lips. He seems so much more comfortable in his skin than he used to before. And he shines brighter, if that was even possible. She thinks maybe she’ll have to carry sunglasses around from now on.

“How the fuck did you score so well then?” Seline question, furious at the revelation.

“Did you guys ever think maybe she’s just that fucking smart?” Bucky throws out, kissing her forehead. “My sweetheart’s a fucking genius!” He leans in closer. “A lesser man would be very intimidated by that, you know?”

He’s so close, she can taste his scent on the tip of her tongue. The smell of summer in the woods, and remnants of leather. It drives her insane.

“A lesser man, huh?” She teases. “You’re not intimidated by it then?”

“Oh I am,” he tells her. “Just not very intimidated.”

God, he’s so fucking beautiful.

“Hey! Lovebirds! We’re not done here,” Charles jumps in. 

Rolling her eyes and reluctantly turning back to face the asshat, she asks, “What do you want?”

“Winter Soldier here might think you’re all that, but I know better.” He looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust into flames purely out of anger. “You’re not that smart. Unlike you, some of us worked hard to get where we are. We didn’t rely on fake daddy’s money to make something of ourselves.”

Now that’s just stupid. “Charlie… Come on, man. Howard Stark was not my father, he was my best friend, I just needed a cover. And his money got me nowhere. And, and! The fucker went and got killed before I even graduated.” Bucky’s head falls at the mention, but her time at college was too closely knit to his passing for her to not mention it. “But even after all that if you think I got in because he bribed the board—I didn’t fucking graduate Summa Cum Laude by kicking my feet and batting my eyelashes. I barely came to college to even do that with perfect follow through. That was my dropping-acid-and-doing-fireball-shots phase. I’m surprised to be alive, honestly.” She takes a step towards him. “Maybe in retrospect it seems like everything was handed to me on a silver platter now that my life seems so glorious on the outside, but that wasn’t the case, dude. Part of me wanted to be a lawyer so I could fight for my freedom if the time ever came.”

“Freedom from what, Stark?!” He yells out. “Your life is fucking perfect! You’re an Avengers, governments step aside to make way for you. You’ve got a super hot boyfriend who can clearly throw a punch, what more could you possibly want?” 

Tony.

I want my brother back.

The answer is right there, on the tip of her tongue. But they don’t need to know it. They don’t really deserve it. Not their fault—most people don’t. 

So, instead she steps back, clasps her hands into Bucky’s. “Nothing, actually. You’re right. I couldn’t ask for more.” Someone in the back catches her eye then. “Lighten up, Charlie.” She looks around at the rest of them. “You’re supposed to be the brightest minds of the nation, not petty fucking 6th graders. Lighten the fuck up, kids. I assure you there are worse things to be than fucking Harvard graduates.” She pulls Bucky by the hand and this hunk of a man follows along without an ounce of hesitation, as always. She yells out without turning “I’d say it was nice to see you guys, but it really fucking wasn’t.” But then her steps halt. She turns, “All except you, Milkovitch. It really was nice to see you again. Call me sometime, we should catch up.”

“I don’t have your number,” Mickey replies innocently.

She smiles. “Fine then, I’ll call you.”

“You don’t have my number.”

Her smile just turns mischievous.

Mickey picks up instantly. “Of course,” he says, a little embarrassed. “World class spy—I forgot.”

Hugging the man quickly, she turns and grabs Bucky by the hand again and begins walking off.

“This was amazing! Let’s do this again next year,” Bucky yells out, waving at the gaping faces they’ve left behind.

“Shut up, James.” She hushes him without heat.

“Where you taking me, sweetheart?” He asks, but there is no real curiosity in his question.

So she says as much. “You don’t really seem that curious about it.”

“I’m asking for the fuck of it—to hear you talk. I love hearing you talk.”

“Sap.” She’s smiling.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t care where you take me,” he promises. 

They’ve stopped walking, her target is in her eyesight so she’s all too worried. So she takes the moment to drink him in.

“FUCKING SAP,” she chides, pushing him a little.

Bucky (pretends to) stumble. “Only for you. Always for you,” he tells her, honest and true. He covers the distance between them with a few short steps. His hand comes to caress her jaw, gently—always so gently. He leans in. His lips brush against her as he speaks, “Till the end of my days, sweetheart.”

“Till the end of mine,” she corrects him and then closes the gap.

The best thing about kissing Bucky is that it always feels like the first time. No matter however many times she kisses this boy, every time it feels overwhelmingly new. It feels like her mind is melting, like she’s turning to mush under his hands—one flesh, the other metal. He always knows how to give her exactly what he craves, maybe because she mostly just craves him.

With one hand on her cheek, the other on the small of her back, Bucky pulls her in closer. His tongue tastes of whiskey, but his lips are all him. They are delectable enough to eat. It takes everything in her not to bite down too hard. But she can’t resist the urge to pull his lip between her teeth, biting just hard enough to leave them red. He kindly obliges by slipping his tongue into the mix. He’s so hungry for her, he’s always so fucking hungry for her.

Absent-mindedly she thinks maybe he feels it too. The inexplicable newness in the repeated action of kissing each other. Because hunger like that—hunger like his, seems insatiable. She would give away all of herself to it. Let him consume her whole. She will do just that… Just not here, not now.

Reluctantly, with great strength and determination, she pulls herself away. 

Bucky, this fucker, whimpers. “What?” He whines.

She can’t help but chuckle. “I need to one thing then we can just get the fuck out of here and do more of that—a lot more of that.”

He pretends to think for a second but she already knows she’s won him over. “Fine,” he says after a beat. “What do you need?”

“An answer,” she tells him, before fixing herself a bit and walking over to the woman who’d caught her eye before. 

She’s a tall woman, short black hair—a pixie cut that she pulls off flawlessly. She’s standing alone, smoking in the open area of the venue, looking out at the scene ahead of them.

Y/n approaches her cautiously. “Jeri Hogarth,” she calls out, making the woman turn. “You’re a hard woman to reach.”

“Y/f/n Stark.” Jeri doesn’t even turn to look at her. She keeps on staring straight ahead, smoking. “Did you ever consider, maybe I didn’t want to be reached?”

Y/n lets go of Bucky’s hand, but not before giving it a gentle press as a promise to come back soon. She walks up next to Jeri. “I did consider that possibility, but couldn’t bring myself to care about it, unfortunately.”

And then, finally Jeri turns to look at her, “What do you need for me? I mean it must be something big if you decided to show up here.”

Y/n shrugs. “It’s not big, I wouldn't say. I think it’s more that it’s… urgent?” That seems to intrigue Jeri, she cocks her brow in question. And Y/n answers, “I need to speak with Danny Rand.”

That seems to throw Jeri off. “I—I don’t know where he is. Besides, if you want his business—”

“It’s not about Rand Enterprises, Hogarth.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment. Nothing that fucking arbitrary would bring her here. “I want to talk to Danny’s friend. I want to talk to the Iron Fist.”

“I don’t—” Jeri looks like she’s at a loss for words which, yeah, a fairly new look on her. Y/n had very rarely seen Jeryn Hogarth lose her calm in class. They shared a lot of them, and while she wasn’t exactly kind to Y/n, she wasn’t unkind either.

“I know that you know, Jeri. I also know about Jessica Jones and… Kilgrave.” Y/n doesn’t want to be unkind to her either. “I am sorry about what happened…” Jeri just looks away. “I wouldn’t ask you if it was important, and I wouldn't be looking for Danny if it wasn’t urgent. But I need to talk to him.”

“And you think I can help?” Jeri challenges, finally finding her ground.

But Y/n isn’t here for a fight. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t know you could.”

“Why should I?”

“I don’t have a very good reason for that. I don’t think I have anything of value to you that I could even barter with? But I’ll owe you one,” Y/n offers.

“You’ll owe me one?” She asks, unconvinced.

Y/n shrugs. “Yes.”

“And that’s supposed to be good enough?”

For the second time tonight, Y/n just wears a mischievous smile with furrowed brows. 

Jeri seems to understand her without any words being spoken. “Yeah. That’s good enough.” She nods. “Okay, I can try to get a message to him, but there is no guarantee that he’ll respond.”

“He’ll respond,” Y/n answers easily.

Jeri eyes her suspiciously. “So, what’s the message?”

“Just tell him we need to talk,” Y/n answers.

“That’s all?”

“What else am I supposed to fucking say? The peacock rests peacefully in the moonlight?! This isn’t Mission Impossible. I’m not Tom Cruise. I just wanna talk to the dude,” Y/n rebukes.

“Fine,” Jeri tries to calm her down half-heartedly, turning back to the view ahead of her.

“Thanks, Hogarth,” Y/n says one last time before heading out.

Jeri takes out a fresh cigarette and lights it. “Just remember you owe me one.”

With that out of the way, Bucky and Y/n leave the reunion of the class of '92, hand in hand. It’s much later when they’re out for ice cream does Bucky ask the question she had been anticipating the entire night.

“Something was off tonight—before the whole sleeping with the teacher thing.” 

She chuckles at his words. “Was there?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t let her dodge it. “You wanna talk about it?” He does give her the option to opt out. He’s so considerate, how can she deny him anything?

They are sitting on the curb outside the 24 hour ice cream shop. They are bathed in the harsh light from the streetlight. Bucky, she thinks, somehow manages to still look pretty in that. He has a chocolate ice-cream cone in his hand that’s melting away at a matching speed to the vanilla cone in hers. They’d spent a little too long lost in each other’s mouths to focus on the ice-cream in a timely fashion. Both of them are now trying to furiously make up for that.

It takes her a moment to find the words. “I… It’s hard looking around at the room and seeing so many people who are… who are…”

“Old?” Bucky supplies again.

She shakes her head, laughing and trying to lick the ice cream off the cone—save it from falling. “No, Jamie. Not that.”

“Then?” He prompts, leaning to lick the leftover ice cream off her fingers.

Taking in a long breath, she musters up her courage and begins. “Tony’s the same age as Milkovitch. Or well, Tony would have been.” Bucky’s eyes turn softer in an instant. “It’s weird to see it—people who used to be young, who used to look like me, a crowd that I could have blended into seamlessly become old and gray. I mean, I lived it with Tony but I was there to see it day in and day out. He aged in front of my eyes, so it felt—it felt…”

“Natural?” Bucky offers.

And yeah. Yeah, it did. So, she nods. “Natural,” she agrees. “I remember when I noticed his first gray hair,” she laughs. “I freaked the fuck out but I didn’t want to tell him, cause that seemed fucking shallow, you know? I tried to hide it but man, I don’t think I was doing a good job ‘cause two days later the poor kid had dyed it black—that one single strand.” Bucky laughs too. “I think he figured out why it was freaking me out and that was his way of—I don’t know—calm me down, maybe?” She clicks her tongue at the thought. “The wrinkles were an easy adjustment. It began with smile lines, crinkles around his eyes every time he’d laugh at a joke, so it was…”

“Comforting?” Bucky suggests, once again giving her the words she can’t seem to find.

She rests her head on his shoulder then, “Yes. It was okay after that—especially after Pepper. Watching him age began feeling like a privilege. It felt like he was growing old instead of, you know, dying?”

Bucky nods. “Are you worried about that now? With me?” She punches him in the side. “FUCK! What was that for?”

She pulls back to face him, “I am not thinking about that shit yet!”

“Oh I’m sorry!” Bucky yells out annoyed and animated. “I was just drawing the LOGICAL conclusion to the conversation, but of course, that was stupid.”

“You’re such a little shit, James,” she rebukes him, shoving him and getting back on her feet.

“I’m a shit?! What did I do?!” He gets up as well. “We keep making grand promises about how we’ll love each other to the end of your days because you’ll obviously live longer.”

“BUCKY, DON’T SAY THAT!” She begins walking towards their motorbike parked in the parking lot.

He follows behind, “It’s not breaking news, Y/n! It’s inevitable.”

“Bucky!”

“But I have a plan!”

That makes her halt. She turns to face him, he almost runs into her. “What’s the plan?”

He smiles all cheeky and insolent. “Freeze me for a decade once in a while.” She can’t believe her ears.”Put me in the fridge every ten years or so for a decade and then pull me out. I’m also open to being in the freezer for a year with a two year gap in the middle as well.” She wants to punch him again. “I haven’t done the math on which will make me live longer but both will definitely extend my lifespan significantly.” She is going to punch him again. “I age a little slower anyway, this was I think we could extend this relationship into the next millennium at leas—” She punches him again. “FUCK! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ONE FOR NOW?” 

Turning around, she begins walking off again. “You’re not ice-cream, Jamie. I’m not fucking freezing you!” She cans the ice-cream in her hand, having lost her appetite.

He follows her again. “I have another plan!”

“Shut up, Barnes!”

“What if we ask Banner to make me body like you guys did for Vision?! Put my consciousness in there?” Bucky asks as they reach their motorbike.

She pulls out the keys, handing them off to Bucky. “What made him capable of emotions was the Mind Stone, you got any spare of those lying around?”

Bucky hops on the bike and then thinks for a second, “Steve told me you guys put Zola in a big computer kinda thing.” She gets on behind him. “What if we did that? I know our sex life might suffer but—”

She punches him right under his ribs..

“STOP FUCKING PUNCHING ME! These ideas are golden.”

She punches him again.

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[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Awkward ~ B.B.

A/n: No idea if this is out of character or not but I had fun keeping it short and sweet for once so i hope yall enjoy!

Request: “Bellamy Blake x Male reader, him and Bellamy already having a relationship but breaking up a little bit before they were sent down and reader being cold and not his happy self” by anon

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

Bellamy counted himself lucky to have met his boyfriend.

Even if they were going to end like this.

It was one of those familiar loves. The kind that take forever to build, and then last forever. The kind that took parts of you and changed them, rearranged them, and left you irrevocably changed. The kind that made a home in the center of your soul, carving the shape of a person that could never be filled by any other person ever again. The kind of love that redefined home. It was a slow burn, but strong. Inevitable.

And then it was over.

Bellamy knew that he would have stayed on this ship with his boyfriend if Y/n had asked... and he couldn't chance that. It was better anyway to leave Y/n hating him so that when he disappeared, his now ex boyfriend wouldn't worry about him or wonder if he was okay. This way, it was better for everyone. And Bellamy kept that resolve as he laid out his plan to get onto the ship with Octavia and all the way down to Earth where they could all be free and happy. If he had to leave his boyfriend, he would. For his sister. She was what mattered.

And then Y/n showed up on the ship anyway.

Bellamy almost didn't recognize him. It hadn't been long, no matter how it had felt like ages, but Y/n was completely different. His style choice had changed, his demeanor, the way he impacted the world around him - all of it was wrong. Once Y/n had been a blazing fire, a bright light. He had been a breath of fresh air, coloring the world with pink and yellow and giving Bellamy a sliver of positivity and comfort in a world Bellamy had for so long thought was too cold and broken to give up anything good anymore. Now...

Y/n was distant, quiet. He faded into the background. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, and if he did then they were quick to scatter and give him room. He was intimidating. Scary. The only reason Bellamy even clocked him was because Y/n had stepped up to side with Clarke as she and Bellamy began to butt heads for who would be in charge. It would have been surprising, if not for their history. And the fact that Bellamy had been sleeping around every moment he had since he'd gotten to Earth,

The problem was that Bellamy had made a promise to himself. Earth wouldn't just be an escape from prison - it would be an escape from life on that god forsaken ship. He came here to be free - really free. Liberated. He wanted people to see all the things this place had to offer and how amazing it was to not have any of the adults to drag them down. He needed to spend every minute convincing people they wanted and even needed to be on Earth by themselves. Completely separate from society.

He didn't want to sleep with these women. He didn't want to lead. He wanted to be alone with his sister and be free and happy, and more than anything he wanted to fall into Y/n's arms and break into tears and tell him everything and get that smile back on his face. Where it belonged.

But he stuck to plan anyway.

Predictably, that decision made everything so much worse.

Bellamy knew he'd maybe gone a little too far, being too protective of Octavia, when she shoved him one day and told him to fuck himself. The next time Bellamy saw her, she was with Y/n and they were talking in gentle, low voices. Y/n had always been better with Octavia than Bellamy was, and now it showed. Even as this darker, more reserved version of himself he still managed to make Octavia smile. She seemed to make him ease in return, but that smile that was so often on his face before coming to Earth still didn't make an appearance. 

As things started to go wrong, it was becoming very quickly more and more obvious that Clarke was the better leader - especially with Y/n as her second. It had happened mostly on accident; there just wasn't anyone Clarke trusted with responsibility... or really trusted at all. Y/n proved himself again and again, encouraging Clarke to trust him more and more - so as she rose, so did he. There was something about Y/n trusting her that seemed to convince everyone to at least listen. Y/n joked that he was big and scary and had scary dog privileges and the fact that she'd 'tamed him' was why everyone was keen on listening to her. Clarke always rolled her eyes at that.

Bellamy didn't find it funny, but Octavia did, and she took every chance to tease Clarke and Y/n for being a match made in Heaven. A perfect duo. The leader of the masses and her loyal guard dog. Y/n and Clarke found it amusing enough so they never discouraged her.

It bothered Bellamy even more.

Tensions began to rapidly build. Y/n and Bellamy were more often chest to chest, nose to nose, staring each other down with malice in their eyes, and only Clarke and Octavia were able to rip the two boys apart. The sheer amount of energy between them delivered some kind of message, and the impression began to grow that there was something between them. Octavia knew, but she wasn't about to out her brother, who had never wanted to come out, or throw Y/n under the bus for getting his heart absolutely shattered by Bellamy.

Unfortunately there was only so much avoiding each other that could happen when a poisonous fog rolled through the forest, horribly killing anyone who got caught in it. In the chaos to scramble, Y/n got shoved and fell. If not for Bellamy stopping and pulling him into a close by little cove, Y/n would have died. It maybe should have prevented the hostility from being as high as it was, as quickly as it was... alas...

Y/n and Bellamy were arguing after about ten minutes. Both of them had forgotten what had started it in another ten minutes, because it wasn't soon before the real issue came out. With no one there to stop them, their back and forth devolved until the source of it all came to the surface.

"I'm sure you'll be overjoyed when this whole thing ends and you can go back to your girlfriend," Bellamy shot at his ex.

Y/n sneered, lips pulling back over bared teeth. This is always what drove Octavia and Clarke to pull them apart: the two boys looks like they were about to kill each other. They'd never fought before, let alone like this, but even now... they wouldn't hurt each other, and that's what even Octavia was missing. At least with their fists. Y/n didn't pull back now as he spat back, "Are you talking about Clarke? God, how old are you? She's not my girlfriend."

"You look pretty friendly." Bellamy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because we're friends!" Y/n's voice bounced off the walls as it rose into a scream, the increased volume only setting Bellamy more on edge.

"Then why are you constantly following her around like a lost puppy? Did you lose your self respect after we broke up?"

Y/n finally snapped. "I LOST EVERYTHING WHEN WE BROKE UP!" There was a ringing silence after those words. They seemed to hang in the air, and Bellamy's eyes widened as he realized there were tears streaming down Y/n's face. He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe, not knowing he had made Y/n cry. Y/n was the first one to find his voice. "I lost everything when you broke up with me. And I had to take everything I was suddenly missing completely and make something new of hollow, broken pieces. I only chose Clarke because I refused to choose you. Not again - never again. You did this. You don't get to be mad about it."

Bellamy scoffed. "I'm not mad about it." Y/n sucked in a breath to start arguing again but Bellamy had had enough. "I'm jealous."

Y/n produced a sound that was half a scoff and half a laugh. "Please. What do you have to be jealous of?"

Suddenly exhausted, all Bellamy had left was the truth. "I knew I had to get on this ship and come to Earth with Octavia. I knew I had to be free, even if it was toxic down here. Even if it killed me. I couldn't be alive in a world where I would always be the one who got to live. Not when she was killed for being born after me. I... couldn't." Y/n's words never came. He just sighed, leaning against the wall with an irritated thud. He had heard the rant before. He knew where this was going. Or, so he thought. Bellamy's next words caught him off guard. "I could never ask you to make that sacrifice. But, if you knew, you'd have agreed. Even if it would kill you. And I also couldn't let my trauma be the death of you either. Not when it was already the end of me and my sister."

Eyes wide, Y/n looked at him. There was something else in his face than that empty gloominess. Something... akin to hope. "You can't do this to me. Not now."

Bellamy closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No-" Y/n pushed off the wall, shaking his head. "You don't get my forgiveness now. Not after everything! It's not fair!"

Bellamy's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry."

"NO!" Y/n yelled, grabbing his shirt by the collar. Bellamy's lips parted to apologize and Y/n slammed him against the cave wall, face twisted with rage. "Don't. Say. It. Again."

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn't. Then, ever so softly, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Immediately Y/n's face crumbled. He searched Bellamy's face, demanding to see anything other than what he was seeing. Regret. Sincerity. And love.

There was only one way to know for sure.

Y/n kissed Bellamy. He was immediately hit with how eagerly Bellamy kissed back. It was like, despite everything, anything that could have ruined this moment didn't matter. People had died, they were losing numbers, going hungry. This place was so much harder than they thought and everything was out to kill them. People they knew nothing about, couldn't even see, or a landscape that crept slowly and attacked when you least expected it. Time and space and heartbreak -

And in this moment it was just them.

When Y/n leaned back, he was smiling. Really smiling. "You're an idiot. I can't believe I love you."

Bellamy melted in relief. He pulled Y/n close and even with how impossible it had all seemed, it had worked out. "I am an idiot," he agreed. Y/n chuckled and Bellamy closed his eyes to hear the sound. The sound he never thought he'd be blessed enough to hear ever again. Maybe if Y/n could still smile and laugh, and Bellamy could still get the boy, anything could happen. Maybe there was still a chance in this ruined world. Even as dire as it seemed... maybe hope could be allowed.

Just a little. Just enough.

#Bellamy Blake #the 100 #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #Bellamy Blake x male reader #the 100 imagine #the 100 x reader #the 100 x male reader

[intrepidacious]

❤️ a good time! - librarian!bucky and winter activities !!

a/n: this is … so late. i apologize :')

booked on a feeling | b.b.

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

the thing about bucky is, he’s a walking paradox

for example: he drives you up the shelved walls every single shift you share, and yet when you get back to work after your holiday, you can’t help but smile a little at the sight of him behind the front desk

just a little

it’s a reflex, really

it doesn’t help that he makes a beeline towards you as soon as he spots you, book still in hand

(damn his stupid grin)

"d’you miss me?"

"you wish"

(you’re a shit liar)

"you’re a shit liar"

"language, buck"

his eyes dip lower down your body and back up again, like he has to take you in again after your absence

it’s making you burn up

there’s a glimmer in his eyes when you shove past him that tells you he knows, and you don’t like it one bit

thankfully, a small rush of people keeps you both busy for the next couple of minutes, until—

"what are your thoughts on ice skating?"

the questions stops you in the middle of organizing the returned loans on your cart

"you realize it’s almost summer, right?"

bucky shrugs with one shoulder, scrolling through some article on his monitor

"i’ve never been"

you blink

"you’ve never been ice skating? not even as a child?"

"nope"

there’s a moment of quiet, for once, and he doesn’t really look at you

you check out a couple of books for steve’s girl and she raises her eyebrows at the two of you

you silently shake your head and her mouth twitches in amusement as she waves you good-bye

"so," you finally say, "why are you talking about ice skating when we’re close to hitting seventies outside?"

bucky looks at you from the side, clearly pleased you’re continuing the conversation

"this kid returned a book about figure skaters earlier"

"and that made you think 'ah yes, things to try out'?"

"maybe. i might be a natural"

"that sounds like it’s gonna end in disaster. can i watch?"

someone was going to have to call the ambulance, after all

you’re sure you imagine bucky’s grin flickering a little, almost hesitant

like he was going to add something else, but then changes his mind

"deal."

and there’s that

(like you said. a walking paradox)

… better late than never?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #booked on a feeling #inbox #wildlivelychild 🧁 #sleepover time

[peachiestkeen]

Masterlist!

Author's Note: Please keep in mind this is the Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick specific Masterlist! if I ever write for any other universes they will get their own Master list!

Love Letters to No One

Part One: Lost Boys

Part Two: Three's a Party

Part Three: Crazy=Genius

Part Four: Winner Gets a Kiss

Part Five: Braddles

Part Six: A Broken Heart. Again.

Part Seven: Give ‘Em Hell

Part Eight: Dagger One

Bradley Bradshaw One Shots

Photos (B.B)

Baking Cookies (B.B)

Baby Bradshaw (B.B)

Take A Chance on Me (B.B)

I Love You (B.B)

Not What I Expected (B.B)

Little Yellow Onesie (B.B)

Puppy Love? (B.B)

Bob One Shots

Slow Burn (R.F)

Kiwi (R.F)

Swimsuit Model (R.F)

Home. (R.F)

A Quiet Place (R.F)

Hangman One Shots

Kinda Hot and Very Bothered (J.S)

Cake Batter (J.S)

When Will I See You Again (J.S)

Bagman (J.S)

Phoenix One Shots

Ashes to Ashes (N.T)

On the Rocks (N.T)

Strawberry Blond (N.T)

Lost (N.T)

Maverick One Shots

As the Caged Bird Sings (P.M)

Travelin' Soldier (P.M)

Pretty White Dress (P.M)

Pete Meets You (P.M)

3 a.m (P.M)

Hurt (P.M)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #tg:m #top gun maverick #maverick #maverick top gun #cpt. pete mitchell #cpt. pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #rooster #rooster top gun #lt. bradley bradshaw #lt. bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #penny benjamin #hard deck #jake sersin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pheonix #lt. natasha phoenix trace #natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #fanboy

[kinzis-writing]

Kinzi's Masterlist

Here you will find all of my works that I have written, please note that the top of the Masterlist are the people I write about the most!

Requests are Open!

Updated on: January 3, 2024

Purple Text = summary of imagine, 💔=angst, 💘= fluff, 🔥= steamy or smut.

🏈NFL🏈

I can see you | Tee Higgins 💘💔

After a horrible break-up, Y/N, decided to pack up and move her life from Buffalo, NY to Cincinnati, OH. She would be closer to her manager and she would be in the area where her podcast began. What she didn’t expect was to find a new relationship in another football player.

Surprises | Josh Allen 💘

Y/N ends up surprising Josh at one of his games, which leads to Josh knowing that he has to play his best to impress his woman.

Christmas Surprises | Tee Higgins 💘

Y/N was hoping to spend Christmas with Tee, but he was flying to his hometown and she would be staying in Ohio. Unless her family had other plans

Christmas Tree Farm | Josh Allen 💘

It is Y/N's first Christmas living with her fiance, Josh. Y/N had a Christmas tradition to wear her family and/or friends always went to a Christmas tree farm to pick out their live tree. Y/N is sad when she feels her tradition has to stop because of a new developed allergy to her favorite kind of Christmas trees. Josh makes it his mission to keep the tradition alive, even if he has to improvise a little.

Christmas Miracles | Tee Higgins 💔💘

In which Tee and Y/N have been trying for a baby and they receive a Christmas miracle

Jellyfish tank | Tee Higgins 💘

a Jellyfish tank in your boyfriend's house, what could go wrong?

Sweet Nothing | Tee Higgins 💘

Tee and Y/N appreciate the simple pleasures of being together, no matter what the world puts them through.

🪄Harry Potter🪄

Better Than Revenge | Mattheo Riddle *Masterlist* 💘💔🔥

Y/N Nettleby did not know what to do with herself when her boyfriend of a year, Theodore Nott, broke up with her suddenly. It was true that they were in different houses, but she had hoped that he would not let his ego get in the way. Now she was coming up with a plan to get her revenge on Theodore, and what better way than to involve his best friend.

Three Years | George Weasley 💘

In which Y/N and George have been together for three years, and it takes a mistake for him to take the next step of their relationship.

✈️Top Gun: Maverick✈️

The Only Exception | Bob Floyd Masterlist 💔💘🔥

Y/N Mitchell swore to herself that she would never allow herself to date or get involved with anyone from any branch of the military. After worrying about her father, the past few years, she knew that she never wanted to experience her worry for a significant other. After her father gets ordered back to California, she may just meet the one that ruins all of her plans. 

Life Changes | B.B & J.S pt. 1💔💘

Two lovers thought their love would forever burn bright, however, things change and people change. What happens to be a big change for people can lead them to the best version of themselves. Life Changes and people have to move on. AU

🌊Outer Banks🌊

Marry Me | JJ Maybank 💔💘

JJ has been in love with you for a long time (seeing as you guys were best friends) and now you guys are older and you’re fixing to get married. He doesn’t know how to take the fact that you didn’t want to marry him.

Marry Me | JJ Maybank pt. 2 💘

JJ had been in love you (his best friend) for a long time. His heart was shattered when you started dating topper and years later got engaged. During your rehearsal dinner, you overheard a conversation between JJ and your father. Your feelings took over and you left topper at the wedding and found your dream guy. Now you have embarked on your relationship with your best friend.

Last Christmas | Rafe Cameron 💔💘

It's Christmas in Outer Banks, the holiday where you got to spend time with your friends. It's hard to enjoy the holiday when your mind goes back to last Christmas and who you were spending it with.

🧛TVD/TO🐺

Dating Klause Mikaelson Headcanon 💘

#masterlist #nfl imagine #nfl fandom #harry potter imagines #imagines #requests are open #better than revenge series #tee higgins x reader #25 days of imagines #nfl player x reader #nfl players #josh allen imagine #tee higgins x you #obx imagines #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron imagines #my stories

[diceriadelluntore]

Storia Di Musica #314 - Susan Tedeschi, Live From Austin TX, 2004

Le storie di chitarre femminili di febbraio volevano sviluppare, lo ricordo per questo ultimo appuntamento, una questione che avevo sentito per radio (ho recuperato pure i particolare): durante la trasmissione Morning Glory di Virgin Radio, condotta da Alteria, alla domanda "quale sarebbe il tuo mestiere dei sogni" una giovane ascoltatrice scrisse "diventare una famosissima chitarrista, perchè non c'è ne sono". Alteria, che è anche musicista, ha subito cercato di smentire, ricordando Sister Rosetta Tharpe, la grandissima blueswoman e cantante gospel degli anni '30-'60 del 1900. Tuttavia, e alla fine di questo percorso che è sempre anche un'occasione per imparare qualcosa di nuovo, sono arrivato alla conclusione che, dal punto di visto della fama e della riconoscibilità, aveva ragione l'ascoltatrice, non c'è mai stata per gli indicatori appena descritti una chitarrista riconoscibile come Hendrix, Blackmore o Jack White, per citare tre chitarristi di epoche differenti. Allo stesso tempo, non vuol dire che non ci siano state chitarriste tecnicamente e musicalmente eccezionali, e le scelte di Febbraio 2024 sono solo un antipasto di un viaggio che lascerà deliziati chi vorrà continuarlo. Per concludere la carrellata, oggi vi porto a Norwell, Massachusetts, dove all'interno di una famiglia di origini italiani, i Tedeschi (che sono facoltosi, proprietari di una famosa catena di supermercato in tutto lo stato) nasce nel 1970 Susan. Sin da piccola è un prodigio nelle recite e a sei anni ha una piccola parte in un Musical itinerante che una compagnia locale porta in giro nella contea. Cresce in mezzo ai dischi, e per quelle strane ascendenze del gusto, si appassiona ai ritmi e alle atmosfere del blues. Susan Tedeschi frequenta il Berklee College, come Emily Remler (la prima protagonista delle storie di Febbraio) e si specializza in canto gospel e a 20 anni si laurea. Ne ha pochi di più quando fonda la prima Susan Tedeschi Band, con Adrienne Hayes, Jim Lamond e Mike Aiello che, dopo una fondamentale gavetta nel locali di Boston e dintorni, vengono notati da un musicista e produttore, Tom Hambridge (che vincerà nella sua carriera 7 Grammy Awards), che li mette sotto contratto per la piccola etichetta Tone Cool e produce il primo disco, che per scelta sua vedrà a luce solo a nome Susan Tedeschi: Just Won't Burn del 1998 è un grandissimo debutto, con la seconda chitarra di Sean Costello (uno dei più grandi talenti chitarristici di quegli anni, stroncato a 28 anni da complicanze della sua dipendenza dalla droga) che ha due hit da classifica in Rock Me Right e It Hurt So Bad, scritte con Hambridge. Il disco venderà tantissimo per un disco blues di una piccola etichetta, 500 mila copie, e porterà Susan Tedeschi a suonare per gente come John Mellencamp, B.B. King, Buddy Guy, The Allman Brothers Band, Taj Mahal e Bob Dylan. Nel 2003 apre quasi tutti i concerti americani del Licks Tour di un certo gruppo inglese, appena arrivato ai 40 anni di attività, i Rolling Stones, acquisendo una fama crescente, anche per le sue meravigliose qualità artistiche, che penso si esprimano al meglio nel disco di oggi.

È chiamata, per la terza volta, ad esibirsi per l'Austin City Limits, uno dei programmi musicali più famosi degli Stati Uniti, che trasmette un concerto dal vivo di 60 minuti sui canali della PBS, che è la televisione pubblica negli USA. Insieme a lei, William Green all'organo Hammond, Jason Crosby alle tastiere, violino e ai cori, Ron Perry al basso e Jeff Sipe alla batteria. Live In Austin TX esce nel 2004 ed è un delizioso esempio di classe e maestria musicale: la chitarra e la voce di Susan giganteggiano, senza mai strafare, ma lasciando evidenti tocchi di bellezza (tra l'altro vi invito a fare caso alla differenza che ha la sua voce quando canta e quando, quasi timida, ringrazia con un Thank You gli applausi). E la sua chitarra è una espressione di questa dolcezza: mai ossessiva, ma affilata e precisa, con assoli eleganti e morbidi, accompagnati da inserimenti degli altri strumenti. In scaletta pezzi del suo repertorio solista (It Hurt So Bad, la sofferta I Fell In Love, Wrapped In The Arms Of Another), altri scritti per lei (The Feeling Music Brings dal futuro marito Derek Tucks) ma soprattutto una meravigliosa collezione di cover, dove viene fuori il suo canto di impostazione gospel e tutto il suo talento: You Can Make It If You Try di Sly And The Family Stone, Gonna Move di Paul Pena, Alone di Tommy Sims (che produsse Streets Of Philadelphia di Bruce Springsteen), Love's in Need Of Love Today di Stevie Wonder e un suo cavallo di battaglia, sia su disco che dal vivo, Angel From Montgomery di John Prine, che è così strettamente identificata con Bonnie Riatt, altra grandiosa cantante e chitarrista, il cui testimone è preso da Tedeschi in questo senso. C'è il soul di Voodoo Woman di Koki Taylor, uno strumentale meraviglioso come Hampmotized e c'è la cover più bella e sentita di Don't Think It Twice, It's All Right di Bob Dylan: la versione originale del grande di Duluth era basata su un folk tradizionale, Who's Gonna Buy You Ribbons When I'm Gone?, e riprendeva un verso da una rielaborazione dello stesso brano fatta da Paul Clayton, che rititolò il brano Who's Gonna Buy Your Chickens When I'm Gone. Il brano ha una leggenda in sé: si dice che fu scritto da un giovane Dylan (il brano fa parte del leggendario The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan del 1963) preoccupato e "geloso" del fatto che la vacanza della sua allora fidanzata, Suzie Rotolo (che è la ragazza che appre nella copertina dello stesso disco a braccetto con lui), in Italia si stesse allungando troppo, immaginando quindi come sarebbe stato raccontare un litigio. In realtà come scrisse Nat Hentoff nel libretto originale (Hentoff è stato critico musicale del Village Voice per 51 anni) è probabilmente il primo degli innumerevoli "discorsi con sè" di Dylan, "un'affermazione che magari puoi dire per sentirti meglio… come se stessi parlando da solo". l'arrangiamento slow blues di Tedeschi è fantastico, con il violino e l'organo Hammond, e diventerà per anni uno dei momenti più attesi dei suoi concerti.

Concerti che saranno sempre il fulcro principale della sua attività, soprattutto dopo l'incontro, prima sentimentale e poi artistico, con Derek Trucks, altro chitarrista formidabile, erede della dinastia Allman Brothers, con cui formerà dal 2010 una Tedeschi Trucks Band, vincendo nel 2012 un Grammy con il disco Revelator. Una grande artista e un'altra grande chitarra da scoprire.

#susan tedeschi #live in austin tx #2004 #recensione

[randoauthor]

MasterList!

Author's Note: Please keep in mind this is the Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick specific Masterlist! if I ever write for any other universes they will get their own Master list!

Love Letters to No One

Part One: Lost Boys

Part Two: Three's a Party

Part Three: Crazy=Genius

Part Four: Winner Gets a Kiss

Part Five: Braddles

Part Six: A Broken Heart. Again.

Part Seven: Give ‘Em Hell

Part Eight: Dagger One

Bradley Bradshaw One Shots

Photos (B.B)

Baking Cookies (B.B)

Baby Bradshaw (B.B)

Take A Chance on Me (B.B)

I Love You (B.B)

Not What I Expected (B.B)

Little Yellow Onesie (B.B)

Puppy Love? (B.B)

Bob One Shots

Slow Burn (R.F)

Kiwi (R.F)

Swimsuit Model (R.F)

Home. (R.F)

A Quiet Place (R.F)

Hangman One Shots

Kinda Hot and Very Bothered (J.S)

Cake Batter (J.S)

When Will I See You Again (J.S)

Bagman (J.S)

Phoenix One Shots

Ashes to Ashes (N.T)

On the Rocks (N.T)

Strawberry Blond (N.T)

Lost (N.T)

Maverick One Shots

As the Caged Bird Sings (P.M)

Travelin' Soldier (P.M)

Pretty White Dress (P.M)

Pete Meets You (P.M)

3 a.m (P.M)

Hurt (P.M)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #tg:m #top gun maverick #maverick #maverick top gun #cpt. pete mitchell #cpt. pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #rooster #rooster top gun #lt. bradley bradshaw #lt. bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #penny benjamin #hard deck #jake sersin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pheonix #lt. natasha phoenix trace #natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #fanboy

[thatsalrightprettymama]

Should Have Never Said The Word Love

A?N: Thank you so much @smbonilla2002 for your song fic request! Also I'm sorry that I'm posting it this late! I went to start off just using soap, but I kind of got inspired by both songs! I really hope that you enjoy this fic! Thank you again for requesting this! <3 Also this is unedited mostly, so I do apologize for any mistakes. As always constructive criticism is welcomed! I hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings : ANGST

Word count: 2.5k.

Sitting in a corner in Club Handy, you watch the crowds of people dance and laugh as you nurse your whiskey. Glancing around the club once more, you turn your gaze to your glass. Watching the ice cubes bob in the amber liquid, you couldn’t help but think that the place that had become your sanctuary now feeling like an empty shell of what it was. You figured that you came to Club Handy before meeting him, that you could go after. You were wrong, everything here reminded you of him and of how you ruined what you two had. If you would have kept your mouth shut, kept your feeling to yourself, you would at least still have him in some type of way. Still gazing into your glass, you take another drink. Letting the liquid burn down your throat, you sardonically wonder to yourself if the bar even has enough to dull the ache in your chest. Though honestly you don’t think there’s anything that could dull the pain that’s been there ever since that night in Handy Park a month ago.

Trying not to let your mind go back to that night, you start to watch the crowd again. Hoping that watching them would give some distraction. All it did was cause a bitter taste start to fill your mouth as the scene in front of you just reminded you how much of a miserable masochist you are. Biting your lip, you sigh and finish your drink. Pushing the chair back as you stand, you grab your cardigan and decide maybe you shouldn’t taint this place with your misery.  You put your cardigan on and smooth your dress out before you start to cross the floor and enter the sea of people. You don’t make it far before you notice the crowd buzz and go near the door. Following the commotion with your eyes, you feel your heart drop as you see a familiar figure next to B.B. King. Anxiety instantly flooding your body you glance around the club, looking for any path or place where you can avoid him. Sighing you notice with the crowd the only solace you’ll find is an open window with a small canopy like space left from an old fire escape.

Glancing back at the door you notice he’s still enamored by the crowd; you walk over to the window and climb onto the old metal. As you stood and leaned against the railing you couldn’t help but think you should have never come here. Club Handy should have become a distant memory the moment you two walked away from each other that night.  As you looked down onto Beale Street, you felt the glue that’s been holding your heart together for the past few weeks start to dissolve. Biting your lips you feel a burning lump form in your throat. With shaky hands you reach into your cardigan’s pocket and grab your cigarette case. As you light it and inhale nicotine that night starts to replay in your head. You could still picture it perfectly.

You were both leaving Club Handy, you arm linked with Elvis’s as you leaned against him, laughing at his stupid joke. Before you two could head to his car though, you tug on his arm with a smile. “C’mon EP, the night’s still young! Let’s go to the park.” You told him, giggling from the buzz of the alcohol and his presence. “Hmm you sure Darlin’? It’s getting late.” Elvis asked as he stood firm in his spot, smiling down at you and chuckling when a slight pout graced your lips. “Please Elvis!? It’s too good of a night to end it just yet.” You pouted up at unknowingly jinxing the night. “Alright.” He answered with a chuckle, smiling at the excitement you had. “Last one to the park’s a rotten egg!” You had happily called out before you ran down the dimly neon-lit sidewalk. You remember how happy and light you felt as he chased after you, laughing before catching you right before the park. You remember how weightless you felt when he had picked you up and spun you as giggles flew out of your mouth. You also how remember shortly after placing your feet on the ground how sweetly he kissed you before you ruined it all. You remember how his blue eyes seemed to shine as you two had broke apart before you opened your mouth and cut the cord on what you two had by saying, “I love you, Elvis. “. You hadn’t even meant to say it, to even let him know that’s how you truly felt. You knew the rules when you started to play with Elvis.

You remember how his blue eyes dimmed as his brow furrowed. “Darlin’ I think you might’ve drunk too much tonight. “ He told you after a pause, brushing off your confession. If only you would have stopped there, and just agreed to him you would still get to feel his touch and kisses. You’d still get to see his face light up when he talks about performing and music, you’d still get to hear that deep southern voice that gave you chills, and you’d still at least have Elvis in your life. Too absorbed in your memory of that night tear well up in your eyes, finally falling as you remember him telling you, “I thought you knew we were playing games, nothing serious doll. You know I can’t do love with my career right now, so you agreed to no feelings. You’re a great doll and all, but I kept my end Y/N. I’m sorry, but I don’t love you.”.  A loud honk from the traffic below jars you out of memory lane. Feeling the tears on your face, you sniffle and wipe them with your sleeve.

You take a few moments to gather yourself before you peep through the window. Scanning the crowd to see him with B.B and a group. Smiling and laughing, breaking your heart more and infuriating you a bit. How could he look so fine, while you were barely holding it together? Closing your eyes you take a deep breath and push the thoughts aside. Opening your eyes you scan the club for a path out avoiding him. After a few minutes you manage to figure one out. Climbing back into the club, you quickly start your path through the see of people. Thankfully you manage to get to a set of doors that would lead your way out without incident. You open the doors and step into the small hallway that lead to the stairway out. Focused on your need to leave you don’t notice another familiar figure in the hallway. That is until you a hear a raspy feminine voice say, “Bug? I know you wouldn’t dare of thinkin’ bout pulling that Irish goodbye shit with me.” Turning you see Mama Thoton leaning against the wall, her dark eyes filling with concern as she see’s you. “Sorry Mama T, I just..” You tell the older woman who’s become like a mother to you since you first stepped foot in here all those years ago. Your voice is as watery as your eyes as you answer her, making you pause as she comes to you and pulls you into a hug. “Oh Bug, shh. Let’s go in the office.” She murmurs to you as you nod agreeing, knowing she would be the safest place to let it all out to.

As the older woman led you into the office, she sat you both on the couch. Holding you, trying to comfort what ever has your e/c eyes looking so dead and broken. “This bout EP ain’t it?” She softly asks after a moment, making you nod against her. “You played that dangerous game called love didn’t you?” She wisely asks after a brief pause. “Yeah I thought I liked the game, then I wanted to change it and I lost it.” You weakly tell her as you try to suck up your tears. “I told him I loved him Mama T, and he looked me in the eyes and told me he didn’t love me.” You cry into her as she starts to soothe you. “Oh bug, I’m sorry baby. “ She softly tells you as she lets you release your pain. Her heart tugging as you choke out, “It just hurts so much Mama T.”. “ I know it does Bug, I know it does. “ She tells you sadly as he continues to comfort you, hating that you were in pain. Just as she has become like a mother to you over the years, you had become like a daughter to her. Just like any mother, blood or found, she didn’t like to see one of her babies in pain. “I know it hurts darling, only love can hurt like this hurt.” Mama Thorton tells you as you cry.

“I just wish I never said anything, why did I have to want more and say it?” You cry to her as you finally start to release some of the hurt your heart held. “Don’t ever regret expressing love Y/N.” She tells you in a firm motherly tone before continuing. “While it hurts, you should never regret taking the chance on love and sharing your feelings. That hurt will ease though, and one day you’ll find another man. He’ll make you feel everything you felt for EP, but differently because love always is each time. And he’ll tell you he loves you, and you’ll have that happy side of love. “ Mama T comfortingly tells you as you hang on her every word.  After a moment you start to calm some as you softly ask her, “Do you really think so?” She hugs you and even though you don’t see it, she nods. “I know so Bug, that’s how life goes.” She tells you before giving you a sometime to gather yourself for the second time that night.

“I’ll understand if I don’t see you at Club Handy for awhile Bug, but you know the doors will always be open for you.” She tells you as you sit up, making you give her a soft smile. “Thank you Mama T.” You softly say hugging her before you both get up from the couch. “You be careful on your way home, and remember what I said. Cub Handy will always be open for you.” She tells you as she walks you out of the office. “I will, I promise. Thank you, Mama T.,” You tell as you walk into the hall. “No need to thank me baby, just don’t be a stranger.” She told you as you parted ways, and you headed down the stairs. As you were leaving the club and walking on Beale Street, you didn’t know that Elvis was softly pouring his troubled heart out to B.B.

“I can’t get that hurt look on her face outta my mind man, it haunts me.”. Elvis tells B.B before taking a swig of his drink. “You didn’t see the look on her face, it’s like I tore her heart out.” He continued as he looked at his friend. “Breaking hearts isn’t easy stud, surely you realize this by now.” B.B teases Elvis with a smile, but his smile drops when he notices EP doesn’t smile or laugh along. “What makes breaking Y/N’s heart different?” B.B. asks after a pause, having an idea why as he looks at his friend. “I never wanted to break her heart.” Elvis says as he takes another drink, trying to ignore the memory of watching your heart break. “So you wanted Y/N to stay with you, kiss you, go places with you, and all that shit but not fall in love?” B.B. asks as he tilts his head at Elvis and gives him and incredulous look, prompting the blue-eyed boy to admit the honest answer.

“I love her, B.B. I love her and I was too up my own ego and ass to realize it till it hit me in the face. “ Elvis finally admits as he finishes his drink. “Then when it hit me, I was too much of a chicken shit to admit and I did the very think I never wanted to do, hurt her. “ He adds as he runs a hand through his hair. “If I could some how was those words outta of existence, or something I would. I wish I never lied and told her I didn’t lover her. “ He laments to his friend as B.B. feels for him. “If only we could write life with a pencil instead of a pen.” The blues singer comments as he looks for the right words to console his friend. “I use my music and career as an excuse to hide behind and while it isn’t really much of an excuse because it is important and crazy right now, I shouldn’t let it stop me. I mean music will always have a part of my soul, but Y/N she has my heart.” Elvis continues to vent to his friend’s open ear.

“Sadly we can’t undo or change the past EP, we can decide what we do in the present. “ B.B tells Elvis after finishing his own drink. Lighting up a cigarette he asks him, “Have you thought of telling Y/N this? “ Elvis bites and sucks on his bottom lip as he slumps into his chair. “The second week I tried callin’ her house a few times. Her Daddy answered each one and after awhile he told me he’d find some reason in the law books to sue me if that’s what it took to make me stop callin’. Told me I hurt her enough.” He told B.B. as he watched him puff on his smoke. “Then I even dared to stop by her Daddy’s office when I found out his was in court or at lunch, the new secretary said Y/N quit.” He adds before asking B.B. , “What do I do? How do I fix this?” B.B. takes one last puff before extinguishing the cigarette before answering, “That’s tough, and yeah I wouldn’t mess with Mr. L/N. He’s a nice guy if you’re on the right side of his coin, but there’s a reason he’s the best lawyer in town. The man’s ruthless. Though if you really wanna fix it, or at least try to, you gotta find Y/N and talk to her. Tell her everything and let her in.” Elvis listened and let B.B’s words sink in as he gave a slight nod.

“You’re right, I just don’t know how, or even if I figure it out if she’d want me.” Elvis comments as they sit. They grab one more drink together before calling it a night. Before the left the building B.B patted Elvis on the shoulder and said, “It’ll work out in the end if it’s meant to be, if not then life gave you another lesson. Don’t fear love EP. “Giving a half smile Elvis nods and tells his friend, “Thank you man, and be careful goin’ home. I’ll see you later. “. “Same to you EP, and I hope it works out.” B.B tells him as they part ways. Beale Street carrying the second broken hearted steps on its sidewalks as Elvis heads to his car.

#elvis fic #austin elvis fic #elvis angst #fic rec #elvis 2022 #angst

[cherryblossom-heart]

Could you love me one last time? (B.B ModernAU!) TEASER

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

A/N: Hello, if you've read any of my other stories you know this is a long one too and in case you haven't, this is just a heads up as it's definitely going to be over 8k I hope you enjoy this teaser as I'm almost done with this story I've been working on the past 3 months (ik, long long time)

Masterlist

Summary: It was inevitable, everyone else around you could see it. You and Bucky Barnes were meant to fall for each other. Unfortunately you were also meant to break each others hearts. You left, he stayed and you thought that was it, until a wedding made you come back to face the past you left behind.

Future content warning: ANGST, toxic 'situationship' between Reader and Bucky, heartbreak, alcohol comsumption, SMUT, Bucky and Reader sleeping with other people while they have their situationship going on.

“Do you still love him?”

And that was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Did your heart still belong to James Buchannan Barnes? Was your heart still yearning for the tumultuous yet passionate and ultimately toxic relationship that had ensued between both of you?

The answer to all of that was yes and no. You didn’t miss the person you had become at the end of your "relationship," if you could even call it that; you didn’t miss the fights, the crying, and the resentment. You didn’t miss the uncertainty that came with being with young Bucky Barnes or the hole in your chest that you felt whenever he would leave.

However, you did miss his company. Not the bullshit, flirtatious, overly confident, and emotionally distant persona he would often put out. No, that dickhead was one of the reasons you never worked out. Instead, you missed the Bucky that would buy you a coffee every morning, the one that would make you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one that would invite you over to have a movie night and buy your favorite snacks.

You missed Bucky, who used to be your friend.

Natasha, the ever-observant of your group of friends, had warned you before it started. She had seen the way you eyed each other at a party one drunken night, both your eyes burning with desire as a product of the growing sexual tension you have had ever since you met for the first time.

As it turned out, Natasha was not only beautiful but also intuitive.

“Nat, please—” you drunkenly argued. Your red cup filled with liquor spilled as you tried to walk away from the redhead, but her hand stopped you.

“Listen to me. I know you want to fuck him, but you have to promise me you won’t do it.” The seriousness behind her voice didn’t register in your intoxicated brain, though, and you kept rolling your eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You half slurred, half laughed.

“I see the way you look at him; I also see the way he looks at you. Maybe one day you guys could be a good couple, great even, but right now the only thing that could come out of you two hooking up is one of you getting hurt, if not both.” Her hands grabbed your face, and green eyes met yours. “You will break each other's hearts. You already love each other; we can all see it, but neither of you is ready to be in a relationship or to compromise yet. So please, for the love of God, do not sleep with him.”

Natasha’s words were wise, and with time, they turned out to be true. The next morning you had woken up in bed alone; the only memory of him was the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the cologne he always wore.

That was the first time Bucky had broken your heart.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader

[cynthiaruth95]

update: earlier in the year i started to intentionally put aside time to listen to more albums in full --- so far i’ve filled up a journal page of my favorites and wanted to share them here: 

Eli and the Thirteenth Confession, Laura Nyro (1968)

American V, Johnny Cash (2006)

Pink Moon, Nick Drake (1972)

I’ll Cry If I Want To, Leslie Gore (1963)

Soup, Blind Melon (1995)

In a Silent Way, Miles Davis (1969)

Save the Animals, Alex G (2022)

I am a Bird Now, Antony & the Johnsons (2005)

The Decline of British Sea Power, Sea Power (2003)

Burn Your Fire For No Witness, Angel Olsen (2014)

Little Girl Blue, Nina Simone (1959)

Without a Sound, Dinosaur Jr (1994)

Vincebus Eruptum, Blue Cheer (1968)

Fanny Hill, Fanny (1972)

Gather Me, Melanie (1971)

What a Way to Die, The Pleasure Seekers (1960s/released 2011)

Singin’ the Blues, B.B. King (1956)

Loved, Cranes (1994)

Fallen Trees, Lubomyr Mehyk (2018)

Whitesnake, Whitesnake (1987)

Rat Saw God, Wednesday (2023)

It’s My Way!, Buffy Sainte-Marie (1964)

Bert Jansch, Bert Jansch (1965)

Songs, Adrianne Lenker (2020)

McCartney, Paul McCartney (1970)

Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes (2008)

Everybody Hollerin’ Goat, Otha Turner (1998)

Team Sleep, Team Sleep (2005)

Odessey and Oracle, The Zombies (1968)

Vs., Pearl Jam (1993)

Passionworks, Heart (1983)

Guard Dog, Searows (2022)

I Against I, Big Brains (1986)

Unsung Passage, The Dead Tongues (2018)

Last Splash, The Breeders (1993)

Shake Your Money Maker, The Black Crowes (1990)

Our Hands Against the Dusk, Rachika Nayar (2021)

Where is Home/Hae ke Kae, Abel Selaocoe (2022)

1966, Karen Dalton (60s/2012)

Colour Green, Sibylle Baier (70s/2006)

Dance Hall at Louse Point, PJ Harvey and John Parish (1996)

Waiting to Spill, The Backseat Lovers (2022)

Fever to Tell, Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2003) 

Garden of Delete, Oneohtrix Point Never (2015)

Pet, Pet (1996)

Townes Van Zandt, Townes Van Zandt (1969)

Jar of Flies, Alice in Chains (1994)

Family Tree, Nick Drake (60s/2007)

Stick Season (We’ll Be Here Forever), Noah Kahan (2023)

The Great Dismal, Nothing (2020)

#albums #music

[the1entirecircus]

Teen Titans Pokemon Teams

Here are my picks for the various pokemon the different members of the Teen Titans would choose. Cyborg, Nightwing, and Robin will not be on this list as I've already done their Pokemon teams on the Justice League and Batfam pokemon team posts.

---

Starfire

Female Pyroar- Being the princess of Tamaran, Kori having a female Pyroar made the most sense to me. Also fun fact about Tamaranian evolution (the Darwinian kind), they descended from a feline species.

Togekiss- Togekiss are a peace-loving pokemon. This is a reflection of Starfire's more cheerful personality.

Orange Flower Florges- It's dex entry from Scarlet reads "Its orange flowers fire off powerful beams, attacking as if they were a battery of artillery."

Tamaranean Jynx- A Fire/Psychic type, this pokemon's kisses are able to sap information from opponents' minds. They've adapted to the hot and climate of the planet. Tamaranean Jynx is has the abilities Flame Body and Forewarn. Starfire's Jynx specifically has the ability Flame Body. This pokemon is a reference to the famous kiss Starfire shared with Robin.

Tamaranean Gardevoir- It's loyalty to its trainer has made it become allowed for its evolution line to become fighting/fairy (Gallade however Psychic/Fairy). Now utilizing aura to fight, its signature fighting type move Aura Bolt can inflict burn onto targets. This is both a reference to Starfire's starbolts and loyalty to her friends. Also, it gives a funny connection to Barbara also having a Gardevoir.

Mega Charizard Y- Starfire has the ability to generate yellow sunlight with her body and move at incredibly fast speeds. Same goes for Mega Charizard Y

Due to there not being many fire type alien pokemon, I initially struggled with this one. But then it occurred to me I can just make Starfire have regional variants.

---

Raven

Shiny Delphox- Being a sorcerer, Raven having Delphox reflects Raven's ability to see into the future.

Golduck- The choice for this pokemon stems from the gem on Raven's forehead

Absol- Another pokemon that can see into the future but is revered as an enemy.

Galarian Slowking- A cursed meta pokemon, Raven's Galarian meta slowking is a more efficient sorcerer than other Galarian Slowking. Its not only capable of using toxic potions but also utilize dark magic itself. Its new ghost-type move Nevermore causes the opponent to be both confused and be pelted with pecks. The Galarian Meta Slowking is now a Ghost/Poison type.

Mismagius- You can guess why.

Mega Gardevoir- A reference to Raven's white uniform, Gardevoir gains immense power during mega evolution.

Raven's pokemon team was fairly simple to come up with.

---

Beast Boy

Rillaboom- Beast Boy is able to transform into all kinds of different pokemon because of his connection to the Red. But that wouldn't have happened if it weren't for him contracting a rare disease that could only be cured by a serum made from a green monkey. Of course, in the pokemon world, that green monkey would be caught and trained by Beast Boy.

Eevee- Beast Boy's Eevee is unique, being a meta pokemon that has a connection to the red. Its ability Eevolvee allows it to transform into any eeveelution during a battle. It also gains a new move called Red Beam which changes its type and damage type depending on whatever eeveelution it transforms into.

Beast Boy doesn't have a full pokemon team because in the pokemon world, he would be able to transform into a green version of every pokemon. If Tofrog from Lockstin&Gnoggin's Lockemon series was real, B.B. would definitely have one.

---

Aquaman (Jackson Hyde)

Sharpedo- Because Jackson Hyde's father is Black Manta, some of his pokemon are the pokemon his father has. Sharpedo being one of them.

Politoed- Politoed is meant to reflect the kinder nature of Jack compared to his father

Female Basculegion- Color coordination and his father had the male version.

Cetitan- Another land and sea pokemon.

Dragonite- A pokemon that grew up in the sea but developed in the air.

Samurott- A pokemon that could have become evil, but didn't

I don't know much about Jackson, I don't keep up with the Aquaman comics or Young Justice tv show. So suggestions are aplicable

---

The Flash (Wally West)

Cinderace- Because of Cinderace's design having elements that remind me of the Flash, Wally has one too. It also a Meta-Variant.

Blissey- Wally is the most caring out of all the flashes, being the one who often checks on the injured whether they be friend or foe.

Raichu- Wally is also one of the more aggressive and petty of the Flashes, hence why he has a Raichu.

Gallade- It is a proficient fighter just like Wally.

Archeops- A meta-variant, This Electric/Flying Archeops moves at incredible speed, having the Speed-Force ability. This is a reference to the dromaeosaur (raptor dinosaur) that Wally encountered when being dragged through time.

Zeraora- A meta-variant of the mythical pokemon, its connection to the speed force is immense having priority for every move it uses and an increase in speed every turn thanks to its new ability Speed Pulse. Its new attack Moment Fist is based on its speed stat. This is a reference to how Wally is the fastest Flash and perform the move Infinite Mass Punch.

---

Kid Flash (Wallace West II aka Ace West)

Grafaiai- During Ace's introduction in the New 52, he is seen spray-painting a wall before Barry arrests him (Goddammit Barry, you're a forensic scientist for the police, not an actual officer!)

Pawmot- Imbued with the speed force, Meta Pawmot has an ability called Momentum Sap where any physical contact with this pokemon can lower the enemy's speed and increase Pawmot's. This is a reference to one of Ace's abilities as a speedster.

Rotom- Imbued with the speed force, Meta Rotom has the unique ability to form constructs out of electricity using its new ability: Electromagnia. Electromagnia allows for Meta Rotom to transform into its different forms while in battle while levitating off the ground. This is a reference to speedster's relationship with electromagnetism and how Ace can form speed force constructs to create his suit.

Ace doesn't have a full team as he is still just a kid.

---

Impulse

Scorbunny- Being the grandson of Barry Allen, Impulse having a Meta-Scorbunny makes sense. It has the Speed-Force ability.

Pikachu- Again, as the grandson of Barry Allen, he would have pokemon similar to Barry

Plusle- As the son of Dawn West, Bart has a Plusle to reflect the fact he is the son of a tornado twin (yes, Inertia has Minun)

Like with Ace, Bart doesn't have a full team.

---

Donna Troy

Themysciran Nidoqueen

Falinks

Armarouge

Chestnaught

Kangaskan

Zacian (With Wondrous Sword)

Donna's pokemon team is modeled after how her New Earth self prior to the New 52 was a magical duplicate of Diana.

---

Arsenal

Hisuian Decidueye- Fits his color scheme, he's an archer, and Oliver has one.

Houndstone- Roy was undead as a black lantern for a period of time.

Tinkaton- Roy loves tinkering and making gadgets

Rotom- Similar reasoning with Tinkaton with the added fact that Roy can hack into tech.

Clawitzer- Again, because of tinkering and gadgetry, but with the added fact that he can use weapons efficiently.

Magmortar- Color scheme, gadgetry, and type balancing.

Arsenal's team mainly consists of pokemon that would aid him with technology.

---

Tempest (Garth)

Grapploct- This is a reference to topo.

Atlantean Reuniclus- Garth can utilize magic to manipulate water and so Atlantean Reuniclus is a representation of that ability.

Primarina- Similar reason as Atlantean Reuniclus

Wishiwashi- A nod to how one of his abilities is marine telepathy

Poliwrath- Noted for being incredibly strong, and Tempest is very strong

Lugia- Being that he is a magic user of the sea, I felt him having a water-adjacent pokemon would be a good idea.

Tempest was somewhat difficult to come up with considering not many pokemon fit his power set.

---

Ravager

Farigarif- Matches her color scheme to a degree and reflects her powers partly.

Medicham- This pokemon reflect's roses ability to predict enemy attacks

Samurott- Rose has skilled swordsmanship

Bisharp- Because her father would definitely own a Kingambit, this pokemon made the most sense to me. Rose's Bisharp would carry an eviolite.

Ravager's team is built of pokemon that reflects her main skills.

---

Terra

Carbink

Stonejourner

Rhyperior

Garganacl

Crustle

Golem

Rocks!

---

Superboy (Conner Kent)

Palafin- Being a clone of superman, Conner would also have certain pokemon that reflect his heritage. One of those being Palafin.

Boltund- Similar reasoning as before but with the added note of how in the TV show Titans, he was introduced with Krypto.

Alakazam- Being part Lex Luthor and Sammy Stryker, this is a double-nod to his heritage and tactile telekinesis.

Silvally- I can definitely see Conner escaping with one of the Silvally Lex Luthor made to stop Superman.

Superboy's team is meant to reflect his genetic heritage.

---

Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark)

Jigglypuff

Thievul

Raikou- Being the granddaughter of Zeus, Cassie having a legendary electric pokemon felt like a no-brainer to me.

I really struggled with Cassie here as I don't know much about her. If anyone can give suggestions, that would help

---

Up Next:

Suicide Squad

Previously:

Batfam

Justice League

Legion of Doom

#teen titans #The Titans #Titans #Dc Titans #Pokemon team #Pokemon #starfire #raven #dc raven #beast boy #aquaman #aqualad #the flash #kid flash #impulse #Wonder Girl #Arsenal #Tempest #Ravager #Terra #Superboy #koriand'r #Rachel Roth #Garfield Logan #Jackson Hyde #Wally West #Wallace West #Ace West #Bart Allen #Roy Harper