#he probably has metal hips lbr

[mikesoup]

mike soup was an old man....he shouldve been at applebees getting the senior discount

[a-splash-of-stucky]

A Messed Up Place | Three

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky gets some news which he does not want to hear.

Warnings: References to sex and nudity, language (there’s always language in my work, lbr).

Notes: Written for @hellomissmabel - we finally get to find out what Y/N has to say!!! 

Y’all ain’t ready for this chapter, man. Y’all ain’t ready.

AMUP Masterlist

Bucky trudges into his room, angrily brushing away the tears that prick at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand. He blindly chucks his clothes into his laundry basket then throws himself onto the bed, smothering his face with his pillow.

He’s hurting on a more profound level than the physical.

There’s a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be, one that Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to refill. He doesn’t know how to patch himself together. If this were a battle wound, he’d bust out the first aid kit and fix himself up with some sutures, wrap the injury in white gauze. Instead, he has to contend with a throbbing pain somewhere deep inside him, a dull ache that seems to resonate through every fibre of his being.

It’s difficult for him to come to terms with the reality of the situation.

You’ve left him.

Bucky never imagined that losing you would feel this bad.

But can he even say that? Is it right for him to say that he’s ‘lost’ you, that you’ve ‘left’ him? Bucky knows that the two of you were never together in the first place, so what right does he have to feel as miserable and sorry-for-himself as he does? This was a relationship fated to fail from the outset, a doomed ship setting sail towards its inevitable demise. He’s just been patiently counting down the seconds as the clock ticked towards zero, when everything would explode in his face.

This love was always going to be his downfall, he knew that right from the start.

What Bucky didn’t know was just how excruciatingly, agonisingly, unbearably painful the fall would be.

—————————————

“I have something to tell you,”.

Bucky feels like his heart has frozen over. Ice spreads through his veins, chasing away the blissful warmth he attained after a glorious round of sex with you. Something in your voice puts his senses on high alert. Something in your voice tells him that he’s not going to like whatever it is you have to say.

“What is it?” Bucky croaks out, wincing internally at the hesitancy in his tone.

You roll over onto your side to face him, pillowing your cheek in your palm. From the way you’re gnawing incessantly at your bottom lip, Bucky knows that this must be something big. His mind is going into overdrive, every possible scenario playing out in his head. As the seconds bleed into endless minutes, Bucky feels himself slowly losing his mind. With each second that slips past, the stitches of sanity keeping him together are slowly beginning to come apart.

“Y/N,” Bucky murmurs, reaching his hand out to rest on your hip, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you—you can tell me, I—,” he pauses to swallow nervously, “I’m here to listen,”.

Your gaze meets his. There’s a flicker of wistful sadness behind your eyes, here one moment, gone the next. You smile ruefully, then take a deep breath.

“Okay, um, I don’t know how to say this, but I—heh,” you mutter, your voice trailing off as you twist onto your back and throw an arm over your eyes. “Fuck it, okay, um, there’s…I have feelings for someone else,”.

Bucky’s frozen heart splinters into about a million shards. The far-fetched hope that Bucky might somehow find his happily ever after with you, the preposterous fantasy that he might one day admit his feelings to you, only to discover that you felt the same way — that dream has been crushed in a most devastating, destructive way. He feels dead on the inside, devoid of all emotion. It’s like you’ve flipped a switch inside him, opened up the floodgates that had been holding back those niggling worries and voices of doubt. Now that you’ve delivered the bad news, told him what he never wanted to hear, those fears come crashing through his system in an overwhelming, tsunami-like wave of depression. You haven’t even properly told him anything, yet Bucky feels like he’s heard all that you need to say.

They are the six words Bucky never wanted to hear, yet a part of him is sadistically glad. At least he didn’t have to say it, didn’t have to find the courage to break things off — he’s a coward, at heart, he knows that. Bucky would never have been able to find it in himself to say no to you, you’re just too addictive. Besides, he knew that this was coming. Bucky never deserved you. You were always too good for him.

He realises that you’re waiting for some sort of reaction from him, so Bucky forces himself to grit out an “Okay?”, voice tentative and a little unsteady.

“…yeah, um, we—we’ve both got feelings, for each other, actually, and…and I’d kinda like to see them more seriously, start goin’ on dates with them, y’know?” you explain, continuing to talk to him even though you’re not looking at him. Bucky’s glad for that; he feels like his expression is anything but neutral right now.

A thought pops into his head, one that brings the bitter taste of bile up his throat as a sickening feeling sets into his stomach. “Y/N…I haven’t…been…the other guy, right?” Bucky asks slowly, pushing himself into an upright position, swinging his legs over so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his back towards you. “I—you…haven’t…done anything with this person, have you?”

God, how awful would that be? To be complicit — knowingly or not — in hurting someone else’s feelings; Bucky doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if that happened.

“Oh, Bucky, no,” you murmur, sitting up and scooting closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t use you like that, never,”.

“Good,” Bucky breathes, releasing a quiet sigh of relief as he turns to flash you a wry smile over his shoulder. He doesn’t know what exactly is ‘good’ about the situation right now, but at least it’s not as bad as it could get.

A pause, then, “I just wanted to tell you, because—well, because this,” you say, using your free hand to gesture between yourselves, “This can’t keep going on. This wasn’t gonna last, Bucky,”.

If his heart hadn’t broken into a million shards already, it most certainly would have now. As it stands, the splintered remains of Bucky’s heart are now crumbling to dust, all shreds of hope vaporising into thin air. He’d take that god-awful chair — fuck it, he’d take years in that god-awful chair — over this. Anything but this. You might not know it, but your words are cutting him so much deeper, so much more viciously than any knife ever could.

“So this is it, then?” Bucky says tiredly, “This is the end?”

“Um—,”

“Look, Y/N, it’s okay, I ain’t mad at you,” Bucky assures you, placing his hand over the one you have on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Thank you for telling me, I’m happy for you. I’ll just—see myself out, yeah?” he says, brushing your hand away as he moves to get off the bed.

“Bucky, wait—,” you say, your hand darting out to catch his metal wrist.

“No, Y/N, it’s fine, really, I get it,” Bucky murmurs, forcing another smile onto his features to mask the pain blooming somewhere deep within his soul. “Really, honestly, seriously—believe me. I’m happy for you, Y/N,” Bucky repeats, quirking up the right side of his mouth; playing it cool as if all is right with the world.

A hesitant smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Yeah?” you mumble, “No hard feelings?”

“None at all,” Bucky replies, as he stoops down to pick up his clothes from the floor, “It was great while it lasted, but I’m glad your life is going somewhere,”. He straightens up as he pulls on his boxers, letting them hang low on his waist. The jeans and t-shirt he slings over his metal forearm.

You’re chewing your lip pensively, as if you have something to say. In truth, Bucky is this close to losing it himself — a part of him wants to unlock the invisible chains holding his feelings back, wants to let his mouth loose and spill all the secrets he’s been holding close to his now non-existent heart.

Bucky surprises himself by remaining strong, though, putting on a mask of bravery as he heads over to your door. He puts his hand on the handle and gives one last cursory glance over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of you, splayed out on the bed with your hair tousled and your body language screaming ‘I’ve-been-freshly-fucked’. He’ll probably never get to see you like this ever again, so Bucky allows himself a moment to commit your beauty to memory, searing your image into his brain.

You shoot him another smile. “Bye Bucky, I—,” you cut yourself off, turning to look away as you shake your head. “Never mind. See ya,” you say quietly, giving him an awkward wave.

“See ya ‘round, Y/N,” Bucky murmurs, turning the handle and letting himself out.

There’s a gloomy sense of finality in the air when the door swings shut with a resounding thud. Bucky feels incomplete — and if he thinks about it, he is.

He left his heart on the other side of the door.

—————————————

Bucky looks up from his book as someone raps their knuckles sharply on his door.

“Come in,” he calls. His heart does a weird flip-flop thing when he sees it’s you.

“Hey Buck,” you say, slipping into his room and easing the door shut behind you.

“Y/N, hey!” Bucky says, forcing cheerfulness into his voice even though he feels anything but.

It’s been over a week since the two of you broke off your arrangement and Bucky is still reeling from the blow. The metaphorical pain in his chest has given way to an everlasting melancholiness, like a dark, ominous storm cloud is permanently hanging over his head.

“You look good,” Bucky comments, as his eyes give you a quick once-over. Bucky can’t help but admire the way your navy blue dress hugs your body, the ruffles around the neckline accentuating your collarbones and giving the smallest peek at your cleavage. It’s exactly your style; understatedly elegant and pulled together, striking that perfect balance between sexy and classy. Bucky feels like he can’t breathe because you’ve stolen his breath. You look absolutely stunning.

Then again, you always look stunning.

“You’re all dressed up, I see. It’s date night tonight, I take it?” Bucky asks.

“Yep,” you reply, coming to stand on his side of the bed and turning around, “Can you zip up my dress?”

“Oh—yeah, of course,” Bucky murmurs, reaching out a hand to complete the task. He tries to keep his contact as light and chaste as possible, despite the fact that all he wants to do is roam his hands over your body and call you his own.

That thought pushes him into a new line of thinking, on that results in an uncharacteristic pang of jealously flaring in his chest. His vision tinges red at the thought of some douchebag laying their hands on you, hell laying their eyes on you. They don’t deserve your beauty, whoever they are — no one does. You are a goddess walking among mere mortals; who on this earth is is worthy enough of your presence? Call him selfish, call him possessive, but Bucky is more than willing to punch the living daylights out of anyone who so much as displaces a single strand of hair from your perfect head.

Bucky clears his throat in an attempt to rid himself of such thoughts. It was a momentary lapse of control, but it leaves him no less shaken — Bucky is more than a little bit terrified of the thoughts that crop up in his head when he thinks about someone mistreating you. “So when do I get to meet this mystery man?” he asks lightly, clambering off the bed and trailing behind you as you head towards the door.

You chuckle as you step out into the hallway. “Oh—you can meet him now, actually,”.

“Meet who?” asks a familiar voice.

Oh shit.

“H-hey, Steve,” Bucky stutters, trying desperately to keep his eyes from bugging out as Steve makes his way down the hallway. His best friend has donned a crisp blue shirt and tucked it into a pair of well-tailored black pants, courtesy of Tony, most probably. A leather jacket completes the look.

“You look amazing, Y/N!” Steve cries, smiling fondly as he loops an arm around your waist. You give Steve a pleased smile, before your gaze flickers back towards Bucky. He sees the unspoken question in your eyes: is this okay?

If he’s honest with himself, Bucky doesn’t know how to answer that.

All those thought that Bucky’s had about killing anyone that dared to lay their dirty hands on you?

Yeah, they can go right out the window.

Because no way in hell, is he going to be able to bring himself to kill his best friend.

(Been a hair too close to that once already. Bucky doesn’t plan on bringing Steve that near to death anytime soon.)

That throbbing in his chest had started up again, a pain that just seems to intensify as the moment draws on.

Who on this earth is worthy of a goddess’ love? Only an angel, of course. Steve’s heart is one of the purest that Bucky’s ever seen. The burden on his shoulders lightens, the tension in his chest eases slightly, knowing that he’s losing — losing? — you to Steve. Steve is someone he can trust. Steve is someone who’ll treat you right.

That doesn’t make the slap of reality hurt any less.

You have feelings for Steve, Steve has feelings for you, and all Bucky feels is a world of pain. He can deal with you loving someone else, but when that someone else is his best friend? Fuck, he can’t even hold it against Steve, it’s not like Bucky’s ever told him about his feelings for you, or about the arrangement he had with you. The punk’s going into this completely oblivious to the history between you and Bucky, so he can’t be blamed for anything. More than that, Bucky doesn’t want to blame Steve for anything — Bucky’s the one that’s wrong in the head, not Steve. Steve deserves happiness, you deserve happiness and Bucky?

Maybe Bucky doesn’t deserve happiness. It’s certainly what the fucking universe seems to be telling him right now.

What did he do in a previous life to deserve this torture?

Oh, that’s right. Only kill about a hundred people.

So is this okay? Bucky doesn’t fucking know. It’s the best scenario out of all the ones that could have possibly unfolded — as far as things could have played out, it’s far from the worse that could have happened.

“Buck? You alright?” Steve asks worriedly.

Bucky startles, realising that the two of you are looking at him with concern written all over your faces. Bucky needs to keep himself together, play it off like everything’s cool. The last thing he wants to do is ruin your first date with Steve.

“I’m fine, m’fine,” Bucky says, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly. “Just surprised to see you clean up so well, Rogers,”.

Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky’s teasing, seemingly satisfied with Bucky’s reply. You’re not as easily convinced, however, the hesitation still evident in your gaze. Bucky gives you a tiny smile and a small nod, mutely conveying his approval of you and Steve being together.

We’ll talk later, you mouth, as Steve says something about heading down to the garage. Bucky waggles his eyebrows in reply. He doesn’t really want to talk, but if it brings you a peace of mind, he’ll go along with it. You still seem unconvinced, but are forced to turn your attention back to Steve as he takes you by the arm and guides you down the hallway.

“Have fun, kids,” Bucky calls, trying to inject as much mirth into his voice as possible. “Make sure you have her home before curfew, Steven, or I’ll come chasing after you with a broom!”. Bucky snorts when Steve gives him a rather ungentlemanly hand gesture in response.

Once the two of you have disappeared around the corner, Bucky goes back into his room, kicks the door shut and slumps down in front of it. He hugs his legs to his chest and curls up into a tight ball, resting his forehead on his knees. No matter how he looks at the situation, he’s fucked. He’s so, incredibly fucked.

How did things get this messed up?

[jjinomu]

I'm on my knees begging for your v flower, roro, merli & aoki headcannons.

hi yes i just finished my essay after 60 years so HERE R SOME MORE SEXC HEADCANNONS

i feel so powerful when ur on ur knees 

VFLOWER- non-binary presenting as both fem and masc but i like to think she prefers femme/they pronouns- i fuckin love vflower- probably listens to heavy metal or at least alternative rock- probably quiet and a really good listener providing 10/10 emotional friendship support- quiet and gentle aroace yes- wears chokers casually bc its cute and hip and she's hip- probably reads a lot of fuckin books and drinks in coffeeshops vflower is my 16-17 year old aesthetic as a person lbr

RORO (ok roro headcannons are majorly influenced by may bc he's her boi and she shits on me w roro all the time)- stoic literally all the time- also super quiet- probably a cat in disguise- clingy and tired- can get startled and flustered pretty easily- probably gets slightly irritated as well if he's mistaken for vy2 LETS B REAL "im my own person whats ur damage"- probably eats a lot

MERLI- shit wtf r my headcannons for merli- she's chill and mature like a princess, but like a really chill and mature princess- probably learnt how to play the violin once but she's like a fairy so how does that work who KNOWoOoOOws- has a really neat sense of fashion, and changes up her hairstyle pretty often - takes care of her sister and can be a little protective, she's almost mother-like - "aoki where are you going where's your coat!?!??!?? you'll get wet by the morning dew if you go outside without a raincoat"

AOKI LAPIS- she's a little more energetic than merli- probably does things without thinking and regrets after- she's really happy all the TIME always happy why are u so happy good on u for being happy- merli probably dresses her most of the time- just a lil baby - probably also eats a lot

The END the end that is the end of thatidk there's probably more for aoki and merli but i just finished my essay and all im thinkin about is history