#bucky and steve

[hey-rissyroo]

Maybe the writers and Russo Idiots should have consulted w Evanstan before they wrote/made Avengers EG. Huh? 🤔

happy pride to whatever the fuck this was

[jbbmylove]

Sometimes I think about how genuine Bucky and Steve’s friendship is and how much Bucky must have loved Steve because just think about it. Bucky was very intelligent and excellent in school, he was a great athlete, he was attractive, he had everything to be one of those guys that are total assholes specially in times like the 40’s. Like, let’s be for real. In real life, people that have all those characteristics that pre-war Bucky had are not always the nicest, or at least, they don’t become best friends of people like Steve. Steve who had countless diseases, who was not very appealing to girls, who would always be ignored or taken for granted.

But Bucky did.

He became Steve’s best friend. He was always there since they were just little kids and as he grew bigger and noticed that his best friend didn’t so much, he still was always there. He always took care of him.

And maybe I like over analyzing his character so much, but that just made me think of what a great fucking person Bucky Barnes had to be to be considered by CAPTAIN AMERICA his best friend.

Even after all those years, even after Hydra, even after the serum, when Steve found out that Bucky was alive the first thing he wanted to do was to save him. And in Civil War he fought his own teammates and went against the government just for him.

Steve thought Bucky was worth it because Bucky was the first to think he was worth it.

[bandsofmarv]

Mine to keep

Bucky can no longer hold in his jealous and possessive side and finally claims you.

TW- Heavy smut, bucky angst , jealousy, possessive behaviour. Kinda long.

Side note // I’m also take requests of any character / theme.

Bucky’s blood had been boiling all night. Steve, the perfect All-American golden boy, basking in your attention, your laugh lighting up every damn corner of the bar. And Steve wasn’t even trying—he never had to. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

Bucky’s drink sat untouched as he leaned against the bar, his jaw tight and his metal fingers twitching with restraint. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, couldn’t stop the jealousy crawling up his spine every time you smiled at Steve.

When Steve finally stepped away to grab another round, Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pushed off the bar and cut through the crowd, his determined strides carrying him straight to you.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice light and playful.

Bucky didn’t return the smile. His eyes were dark, fixed on yours as he crowded into your space. “Having fun?” His voice was a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, confused by the tension radiating off him. “Uh, yeah? It’s been nice to catch up with everyone. Steve’s been—”

“Yeah, Steve’s been the life of the party,” Bucky interrupted, his voice tight.

Your brow furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “Damn right I am.” His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh. “Watching him make you laugh like that? Watching you light up for him? You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice sent a bolt of heat straight through you, your stomach flipping at the raw emotion behind his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Let’s go,” he growled.

————————————————————————

The second your apartment door shut behind you, Bucky had you pinned against it. His lips crashed onto yours, hungry and demanding, his metal hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. “Sitting there looking so goddamn perfect, laughing at his jokes like you don’t know you belong to me.”

“I—” Your protest was cut off as he kissed you again, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you. His flesh hand slid down to your thigh, hitching it around his hip to grind his hard length against you.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

His lips curled into a dark smirk as he lifted you off the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his hands already tugging at your clothes with a mix of urgency and reverence.

“Bucky,” you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands—both flesh and metal—explored your body, pulling away your layers one by one.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your bare skin as he worked. “I’ve got you. Just let me show you.”

When he finally had you naked beneath him, he sat back for a moment, his eyes raking over you with undisguised hunger. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking beautiful. All mine.”

He didn’t wait for a response. His mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he kissed his way down your body. His lips and tongue left a trail of fire in their wake, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“I want to hear you,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.” And then his mouth was on you, his tongue sliding against your heat with practiced precision. You cried out, your hips bucking against him as he licked and sucked, his metal hand pinning you to the bed while his flesh hand teased your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pressure built quickly, your body arching as his tongue drove you higher and higher. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your body shattering around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm until you were trembling beneath him. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, his voice rough with need.

He stripped off his clothes, his muscular frame glinting in the low light of the room. His cock stood hard and ready, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

He climbed over you, his hands bracketing your face as he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Turn over,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, rolling onto your stomach as he positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you up onto your knees before he slid into you with one smooth thrust.

The stretch was perfect, and you moaned loudly, your hands fisting in the sheets as he set a punishing pace.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his metal hand sliding up your back to grip the nape of your neck. “So tight, so perfect. All mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear. “I’ll never let you forget it.”

His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. Your pleasure built quickly, and you felt yourself spiraling toward another release.

“Come for me,” he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “Let me feel you.”

The command sent you over the edge, your body clenching around him as your second orgasm tore through you. Bucky groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release following moments later.

You collapsed onto the bed together, your bodies slick with sweat and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Bucky pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less certain.

“Always,” you whispered, your heart full as you melted into his embrace.

[barnesdolls]

Steve Rogers and His Unhealthy Obsession with Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers was many things.

Captain America. A national hero. A good friend.

But above all else—

Steve Rogers was a wife guy.

Except he wasn’t even married.

To be clear—Bucky wasn’t his husband.

They were just two idiots in love who refused to admit it and instead chose to ruin the lives of everyone around them.

And Bucky, despite all his grumbling and dramatic sighing, secretly loved every second of it.

—

INCIDENT #1: STEVE, A MENACE TO SOCIETY

The first time Sam realized how deeply Steve had committed to his role as Bucky’s personal hype man, they were all in the common room when Steve casually turned to Natasha and said:

“You know, Buck can kill someone in six different ways with a spoon.”

Bucky, mid-sip of coffee, nearly choked. “Steve—”

“And he never misses with a knife.” Steve beamed proudly. “Seriously, Nat, you’d be impressed. One time in the ‘40s—”

Natasha raised a brow. “Does he cook?”

Steve nodded. “Oh, yeah, and he’s really good at it. You should try his stew—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha cut in.

Sam snorted. “Yeah, does he do anything that doesn’t involve stabbing?”

Steve turned to Bucky. “Do you?”

Bucky sighed into his coffee. “I breathe, Steve.”

“And beautifully, too.”

Bucky muttered a curse under his breath.

Steve, still smiling dreamily, added, “And he’s great at woodworking.”

Natasha leaned back. “Are you gonna tell us about how incredible his battle tactics are next?”

Steve gasped. “Oh my God, YES.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh my God, NO.”

—

INCIDENT #2: STEVE WILL THROW HANDS

It was a casual mission. A simple extraction.

Then some random HYDRA goon had the audacity to say, “The Winter Soldier? Wasn’t he just a brainwashed puppet?”

And Steve, who normally gave his speeches about “being the bigger man”, just decked the guy so hard he left a dent in the wall.

The whole room froze.

Bucky blinked. “Steve?”

Steve turned to him. “Yeah?”

Bucky pointed at the unconscious guy. “Did you just—”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sam, who had witnessed everything, crossed his arms. “So, what, you just throw hands now?”

Steve nodded confidently. “If it’s for Bucky, absolutely.”

Natasha muttered, “This is embarrassing.”

Bucky, secretly pleased but refusing to show it, just sighed and said, “Steve, I literally do not care.”

Steve smiled. “I care enough for both of us.”

Bucky buried his face in his hands.

—

INCIDENT #3: STEVE CASUALLY DROPS GAY MARRIAGE INTO CONVERSATION FOR NO REASON

Bucky was minding his own business, sharpening his knife, when Steve just… said it.

“Hey, did you know gay marriage is legal in this century?”

Bucky froze mid-sharpening.

Slowly, he turned to Steve. “…And?”

Steve shrugged. “Just thought you should know.”

Bucky squinted. “…Why?”

Steve cleared his throat. “No reason.”

Bucky just stared at him. “Did you wake up today and decide, ‘Gee, I wonder if Bucky Barnes is up to date on modern marriage laws’?”

Steve looked suspiciously innocent. “I just thought it was interesting.”

Bucky leaned back, arms crossed. “Uh-huh. And this has nothing to do with you calling me your ‘murder husband’ to everyone we meet?”

Steve coughed. “Completely unrelated.”

Bucky didn’t blink. “Steve.”

Steve nodded. “Bucky.”

A long pause.

Then Bucky sighed. “Get out of my room.”

—

INCIDENT #4: “IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO BUCKY, I’M SUING”

During a mission briefing, Tony was explaining the team formations, and Steve—who was normally all about discipline—immediately interrupted.

“Wait, wait, wait. Where’s Bucky in this plan?”

Tony sighed. “Steve, he’s fine. He can handle himself.”

Steve crossed his arms. “That’s not what I asked.”

Tony rubbed his temples. “Steve—”

“Where. Is. Bucky?”

Everyone turned to look at Bucky, who was just sitting there, eating a protein bar.

He waved awkwardly. “Hi.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s on his mission, Cap. You’re not even in the same sector.”

Steve scowled. “Then I object.”

Tony stared. “This isn’t a wedding.”

Steve pointed at Bucky. “Then put me with him.”

“For what reason?”

Steve, without hesitation: “Moral support.”

Bucky groaned. “Jesus Christ, Steve.”

Tony closed his laptop. “I’m done.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his face. “You two are so much.”

Steve turned to Bucky, softly. “You’ll be okay, though, right?”

Bucky muttered something under his breath but nodded.

Steve smiled, content.

Sam whispered, “I swear to God, someone needs to get Steve laid.”

Bucky, mid-bite of his protein bar, choked.

—

INCIDENT #5: “WOW. GROUNDBREAKING.”

Steve was pacing.

And not just regular pacing—he was pacing like a father-to-be in a hospital waiting room, hands on his hips, looking like he was about to deliver the most serious speech of his life.

Bucky, lounging on the couch, beer in hand, just watched him with the energy of a man witnessing a trainwreck in slow motion.

Steve stopped pacing. Took a deep breath. Turned to Bucky with determined blue eyes.

“I have feelings for you.”

Silence.

A long, obnoxiously long silence.

Bucky just blinked.

Then, in the flattest, most sarcastic tone possible, he said:

“Wow. Groundbreaking.”

Steve frowned. “Wait—what?”

Bucky took a slow sip of his beer. “You don’t say, Steve.”

Steve squinted. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Bucky set the beer down. “Me? Sarcastic? No, Stevie, I am just so shocked right now. Truly, this is the most unexpected thing I’ve ever heard.”

Steve sighed deeply. “Bucky—”

Bucky gestured wildly. “I mean, sure, you look at me like I’m the last donut in a police station, and yeah, you literally threw hands with a guy for talking shit about me, and maybe you once told Tony that if anything happens to me you’d ‘file a formal complaint with the universe’—”

Steve groaned. “It was a joke.”

Bucky pointed at him. “No, it was a declaration.”

Sam, passing by with a sandwich, paused mid-bite. “Wait, he said that?”

Bucky nodded. “Oh, he said that.”

Sam whistled. “That’s crazy.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I regret saying anything.”

Bucky smirked. “Oh, no, don’t regret it now, sweetheart. You’ve been in love with me since the Roosevelt administration.”

Steve glared. “I hate you.”

Bucky patted his knee, grinning. “You love me.”

Sam shook his head, muttering, “I need new friends,” before walking away.

[jowithavianwings]

So Steve isn’t dead, right?

so then why tf is Sam like, “I’ll never be good enough for Steve”

Steve: I’m right here

Bucky: We will make him proud

Steve: Ahem

Sam: Steve must have made a mistake giving me the shield

Steve: Why don’t you talk to me about it then?

Sam: I will always try to honor Steve’s memory

Steve: QUIT TELLING EVERYBODY I’M DEAD!

Bucky: Sometimes I can still hear his voice

[versusvirtuous]

[chronically-gay-whoops]

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

[ramp-it-up]

Sugar High

Simple Sugar | Sugar is Sweet | Sugar, Cubed

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. Bucky left and lied; Steve stayed and lied. Tony sends you to Tokyo with Steve and well... On a weekend trip to Kyoto, you and Steve have a real talk on Fushimi Inari

Word Count: 1.6 K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; mention of Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, ANGST!, Steve apologizes, lots of angst, talk of hurt and Bucky suffers. Another tattoo! Basically, you are doomed.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet and Sugar, Cubed au, but can be read alone. This comes after Simple Sugar. I was reflecting on the fact that @yenzys-lucky-charm is really interested in this unfinished series of mine, and the fact that this time last year, I was on a plane back to the US from Japan. A time was had. Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, Hokkaido. We had a blast. But one of the most magical moments was when we hiked Fushimi Inari. I did it with a UTI. 🙃 But it was amazing. Mr. Inari is magic, so I had to include it here. Pics of the torii gates and the overlook at Kyoto mine. Let me know if you like this bit of angst.

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

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

-------

Mt. Inari Trail, Kyoto

Rain turned the mountain path into a river of silver.

Droplets slid down moss-slick stone and drummed softly on the endless red torii gates climbing toward the clouds. You were soaked through your hoodie and leggings, but it was peaceful.

You ducked beneath the low eaves of a wayside shrine. A fox statue kept silent guard, its granite fur jeweled with rain.

Steve jogged up a heartbeat later, cap dark with water, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

“You good?” 

“I love it. The quiet,” you said, steam curling from your lips.

“No crowds. No noise.”

He smiled.

“Magic. Feels like a place you can start over.”

You didn’t answer, not at first. Rain rattled the bamboo gutter. Steve’s gentle gaze searched your face.

“I keep playing that night in Tokyo on repeat,” he said, voice dropping. 

The words vibrated through the wood at your back. 

“Every sound you made. Everything I failed to say.”

Your pulse thudded. 

“That’s the problem, Steve. You lied to me about Bucky. And what you didn’t say, in the elevator, still screams louder than what you did say in bed.”

He flinched. Rain pattered off his brim and down the rigid line of his jaw.

“I didn’t tell you he was injured because I was too afraid you’d leave for him once you knew how bad he was hurt. Too selfish to share. And I should’ve shut him down in that elevator,” he admitted.

“But I froze. And it damaged you.” 

His breath fogged between you. 

“Let me earn your trust back. No lies. No silence.”

You didn’t pull away when his fingers slipped between yours. 

“You sure honesty won’t break us worse?”

“We’re already cracked,” he said.

“Honesty’s the only thing that might fix us.”

The torii tunnel shimmered behind him, red lacquer slick as new blood. You exhaled, let go of his hand, then stepped back into the rain.

—--

You walked another ten minutes in silence. 

The shower tapered to a mist and stone foxes watched from every bend, their eyes green with moss. In a clearing a lone cherry tree spread budding branches over a weather-worn bench.

You sat, damp clothes clinging, heart knocking against your ribs. Steve stood at the overlook, city lights blinking in the far distance.

“Maybe we were doomed from the start,” he said to the dark.

“Or maybe we just needed less ego and more time.”

You huffed.

“Might’ve required different men.”

He laughed under his breath. 

“Yeah. Might’ve. But we were so good at the pretending part. That summer in Stark House... god. The three of us? We had no clue what we were sitting on.”

“You mean the pile of unresolved sexual tension?”

Steve huffed a laugh.

“That, and the closeness. The quiet parts. The way he used to fall asleep with his hand in your hair, and how you always used my shoulder when we watched movies.”

You blinked slowly, the memory heavy in your chest.

“What a time,” you murmured.

Steve turned, his wet lashes glowing in the moonlight.

“The dare isn’t about sex anymore, Sugar. It’s about truth. About finishing the sentence we choked on back then.”

“What if we finish it wrong?” you whispered.

“Then at least we tried.” 

He offered his hand again. This time you took it without hesitation.

—-

You found a small izakaya near the base of Fushimi Inari, a quiet spot, the kind that didn’t cater to tourists. 

Inside were wood-paneled walls, paper lanterns, and a few handwritten menus tacked up above the open grill. The scent of soy and charcoal filled the air. 

You were the only foreigners in the place, but no one paid you much attention. Maybe it was the rain.

Maybe it was the way Steve watched you like he was still catching his breath from that conversation on the mountain.

You ordered sake; you both needed it. He poured for you and you let him.

It was cozy and dim. Your clothes were damp from the hike, but the warmth from the shared nabe pot had you melting into the wooden bench seat across from Steve. There was music playing softly, something vintage and jazzy.

Your legs brushed under the table. 

His knee stayed pressed to yours.

“So,” you said, sampling your sake, fire blooming down your throat.“Those contests with Bucky. Explain.”

Steve smirked, wiping broth from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“God, we were idiots. We had whole arguments over who could make you laugh harder, who you hugged longer, or who got the last fry off your plate.”

He shook his head.

“But the truth is, I think he and I both knew the second we met you that we had both already lost. Our hearts. To you.”

You didn’t respond. But Steve pressed on.

“You remember the night we all crashed in the media room?”

You laughed. It was early on in the fellowship. The first week.

“Under that terrible knit blanket?”

Steve laughed too.

“God, yeah. You were in the middle, wearing my hoodie and his sweatpants.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“We didn’t even make it through the movie.”

“You fell asleep on my chest. Bucky wrapped himself around your back like a goddamn furnace.”

“And you both had hard ons by sunrise. I remember.”

Steve blushed, but you didn’t let him off the hook.

“You two practically eye-fucked me in Theory of Advanced Quantum Mechanics the whole next morning.”

Steve chuckled. 

“We were twenty-one and dumb. And we thought we could play it cool.”

Silence fell between you again. Not awkward. Not empty.

“Truth is,” Steve said, voice lower than the music, “we never stopped wanting you. Either of us.”

You set your cup down, eyes locked on his. 

“Maybe I never stopped wanting… both.”

Heat flared behind his gaze, but his hands stayed on the tabletop, knuckles white with restraint.

“Then quit punishing the three of us. Let’s talk to him. Together.”

You sat with those words as the server brought grilled skewers and hot miso, as you refilled his cup and then your own.

“Been a long time since I felt that… safe,” he murmured.

You nodded, voice small.

“Or that stupid.

A breathy laugh escaped him. “Both.”

You set your cup down, fingers steady for the first time in months.

“Maybe,” you said, meeting his gaze, “we should talk to Bucky."

“Together?” Steve asked.

“Together,” you answered.

—---

Bucky’s Apartment, West Side, 10 pm the next day.

It was cold in the apartment, but Bucky didn’t move to fix it. He just stood at the window, jaw clenched, watching a streak of neon ripple across the Hudson. 

It had been three days since he heard you were reassigned.

Sent to Tokyo. With Steve.

Not him. Of course not him. He deserved that.

Hell, maybe he deserved worse.

He hadn’t known at first. Just noticed you weren’t at the office. Then no one responded to his pings. 

Then Tony's assistant gave him a tight-lipped “She's been reassigned indefinitely. Stark’s orders.”

And then the kicker: Steve had been sent too. You were together.

Bucky leaned his forehead against the glass. He deserved this exile.

The memory returned on an endless loop: his own voice, filled with jealousy, asking you which cock you preferred; Steve, frozen. 

Your face registered shock, then something worse. Disbelief and betrayal.

The moment the lights cut back on, your expression fixed in his memory like a photograph he deserved to choke on forever.

He’d wanted you to hurt the way he’d been hurting. Mission accomplished.

Outside, a barge horn moaned; red lights crawled along the opposite shore. Bucky exhaled a breath. 

Congrats, Barnes. You finally found a cavern she wouldn’t follow you into.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, and the itch started then on his lower left ribcage, right over his heart. He lifted the hem of his tee.

A clean black glucose ring stared back. Simple chemistry. One loop, six peaks. You in his blood, permanent as marrow. He’d never told you. Never thought he had the right after that elevator.

It wasn’t even an original idea, Steve’s ink had inspired his.

What would you say if you saw it?

Maybe: You don’t get to keep pieces of me, Bucky. Not after you broke them.

A chill climbed his spine. He dropped onto the couch, and time slipped; minutes, maybe hours, blurred into gray. He almost powered off his phone when the screen flared.

Catalysts & Curves ⚗️

That group thread had been dead for well over a year. He tapped it on impulse.

A photo filled the screen.

A scandalously shaped croissant splayed on a café plate, glossy and indecent under fluorescent light.

Beside it, a paper cup: SUGAR scrawled in Sharpie.

Sugar: This croissant just propositioned me. Send help. Or napkins.

Bucky’s chest tightened with shock first, then a bloom of something hopeful.

Steve had already replied.

Steve: Told you that place was cursed. That pastry looks dangerous. Don’t eat that, or anything. You’ll be doomed to stay there forever.

Bucky’s thumbs hovered. Then sarcasm, his only armor, tumbled out.

Bucky: Looks like Steve’s understudy. More layers, too.

Message sent. Regret hit instantly, but before he could second-guess himself, a reply.

Sugar:  …

Three dots pulsed. Bucky waited, his breath held.  

Sugar: Okay, that was funny.

He smiled.

Bucky: Glad Japan hasn’t dulled your pastry-radar. You good?

There was a pause long enough for his heart to riot. 

Finally,

Sugar: Getting there.

Twelve letters, one soft promise. Not forgiveness, yet, but a rope tossed into black water.

Bucky grasped it with both hands.

The neon outside blurred as moisture glazed his eyes. And for the first time in three nights the apartment didn’t feel so cold.

Somewhere across the world you were laughing again.

He let that be enough to breathe.

For now.

——-

Next part: Sugar Shack

[headcanonforthought]

Avengers headcanon thing?

Steve & Bucky were f'ing back in the day, and start up again once Bucky isn't brainwashed anymore. But, they think its FUCKING hilarious to pretend to be closeted to the other Avengers. Because they come from a traditional and conservative time they play into it, Steve says shit like, "Marriage ya know, it's just for men and women"

Bucky comments on gay people in the media with a, "WOW, can't believe they're showing that stuff on TV now.... wouldn't have flown in my day."

And the Avengers are torn between calling them homophobic and giving them grace because they ARE old-ass men suddenly in 2018. But Steve and Bucky just keep trolling them by falling all over each other, Steve brushed Bucky's hair while he moans, and they lick popsicles together and pull off the greatest mind fuck in history for like four years before giving up the ghost and making out in the AVnegers tower in front of everyone because why not.

[vviolynn]

Y/N: Can I touch it?

Bucky: Touch what?

Y/N: That.

Y/N: *Points to his metal arm*

Bucky: *Looks at Steve who’s next to him.*

Steve: *Shrugs and hums ‘i dunno?’*

Bucky: Uh… sure?

Y/N: *Lets out a girly squeal and wraps her hands around his metal bicep.*

Bucky: *Looks to Steve again.*

Bucky: Is she always like this?

Steve: Pretty much…

Y/N: *Screams in fangirl and shakes his arm aggressively*

[velvet4510]

Here’s my rebuttal to the common Avengers: Endgame compliant that “Steve would never settle down with Peggy in the 40s while knowing Bucky was being tortured by HYDRA at that time.”

Who says he didn’t save Bucky??

Steve knew that time-traveling to reunite with Peggy would create an alternate timeline and not affect the reality he’d been living in. All we see of his branched timeline is a moment where he danced with Peggy. How are we supposed to assume exactly how his life unfolded, when all we see of it is thirty seconds of them dancing one day? There is no evidence to support the notion that he didn’t tell Peggy about HYDRA and they didn’t rescue Bucky, before or after the dance.

[jbbmylove]

So, if I fly too far

Will I still have a place inside your heart?

And, when you've seen what I've become

Will you love me for who I am, not who I was?

[bandsofmarv]

Shattered shield

After discovering Steve’s betrayal, your world falls apart. Heartbroken and doubting yourself, you find solace in the most unexpected place—Bucky Barnes, Steve’s best friend. You realise that the love you’ve been searching for has been with Bucky all along.

Possible TW - cheating, smut, betrayal.

You never thought you’d find yourself here—sitting alone in the quiet darkness of your apartment, the remnants of your relationship with Steve Rogers crumbling around you. You’d trusted him, believed in him, but that trust had been shattered the moment you caught him with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You were supposed to be enough. But the broken pieces of your heart told a different story.

The sound of a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. You frowned, wiping at your tear-streaked face as you stood. It was late, and you weren’t expecting anyone. But when you opened the door, you found Bucky Barnes standing there, his steel-blue eyes filled with concern.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Steve told me,” he said simply, his voice low. “What happened.” Of course, he had. Steve and Bucky were best friends—brothers, even. It made sense that he’d turn to Bucky, though the thought sent a pang of resentment through you.

“Came to check on you,” Bucky continued, his gaze sweeping over your tear-stained face. “You okay?”

You stepped aside, letting him in without a word. He shut the door behind him, the weight of his presence filling the room as you sank back onto the couch.

“I’m fine,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Bucky scoffed, taking a seat across from you. “You’re a terrible liar, doll.”

You managed a weak smile, but it quickly faded as the silence settled between you. Bucky’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Steve screwed up. Big time.”

“I thought I was enough for him,” you whispered, your throat tightening with the weight of your heartbreak. “But I wasn’t.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, his tone firm as he moved to sit beside you. “That’s not on you. That’s on him. Don’t ever think you weren’t enough, because you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. You looked up at him, and for the first time, you noticed the intensity in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. It was a stark contrast to Steve’s wandering eyes.

“I don’t know how to feel,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I’m angry. Hurt. But most of all, I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Bucky said, his hand brushing against yours. His touch was warm, grounding. “You loved him. You gave him everything. That’s not stupid—that’s brave.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face again. Bucky pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you as you cried into his chest. His embrace was strong, steady, and for the first time in days, you felt safe.

——————————————————————

Weeks passed, and Bucky was there for you every step of the way. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give. But the way he looked at you, the way he made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how—it all made your heart ache in a different way.

One night, you found yourself alone with him again, this time at his apartment. He’d invited you over for dinner, and you’d accepted, grateful for the distraction. But as the night wore on, the tension between you became impossible to ignore.

“Bucky,” you said softly, setting your glass of wine down. “Why are you doing all this?”

He frowned, leaning back in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been there for me, more than anyone else. Why?” Your voice trembled as you met his gaze. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t you get it, doll?” he said, his voice raw. “I’m not doing this because I owe you. I’m doing it because I care about you.”

Your breath hitched, and he stood, crossing the room to kneel in front of you. His metal hand rested on your knee, while his flesh hand cupped your cheek.

“I’ve cared about you for a long time,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours. “But you were with Steve, and I’d never do that to him. But now…”

“Bucky,” you whispered, your heart racing.

“If this is too much, tell me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way about you.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned forward, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and filled with unspoken longing. Bucky responded immediately, his hands pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with restraint.

“More sure than I’ve ever been,” you said, your fingers tangling in his hair.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom as his lips claimed yours again. The air was charged with a mix of desperation and tenderness as he laid you down, his hands exploring your body with reverence.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “The way you deserve.”

And in that moment, you knew he meant it. Bucky wasn’t just a rebound or a distraction—he was your future.

[lavenderpanic]