guilt

b. barnes

word count: 1k

summary: bucky doesn’t believe he can be good.

warnings: ANGST. sad bucky :( lowercase writing. no happy ending.

a/n: been gone for a minute… sorry heres something that tore me apart!

masterlist

“my guilt will not purify me.”

he says it in a broken, helpless whisper. his voice weak and strained from the sobs that had escaped his mouth all night. the slowness of his words penetrating your ears like hot knives cutting through just about anything. slow and painful.

Bucky Barnes Headcanons

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: soft!Bucky, established relationship, sexual content, overall fluffy

A/N: Here's some headcanons I categorize with Bucky. It's mainly cutesy boyfriend vibes that I think he would exude when those therapy sesh' finally hit lol

○ He has the most expressive eyes, it definitely gives him away no matter how hard he tries. The slight scrutinized scrunch of his nose and squint when he's trying so hard not to judge or not even bothering to, Bro is so judgy but honestly, he usually has every right to be. But more often than not, he has the softest eyes directed towards you, borderline puppy dog eyes that melt you from inside out and you just want to kiss him every time he gives that doe eyed look, he knows the effect it has on you though he'd never admit just how much he uses it to his advantage.

On a call with Bucky!

💖 Berry Angelic Mirror 💖

(On sale + free shipping worldwide)

The cat is there for personal reasons, don't mind her :3

How Not to Survive an Illyrian Winter

Pairing: Azriel x Human Mate (reader)

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Summary: When a blizzard rolls through Windhaven, you learn firsthand just how brutal Illyrian winters can be—and how soft Azriel can be when it comes to you. Cold fingers, warm jackets, grumpy shadows, and one very flustered spymaster.

You'd always heard that Illyrian winters were brutal. What you hadn't realized was that "brutal" was a massive understatement.

Standing outside the war camp's central meeting hall, you hugged yourself tighter as another gust of snow-laden wind cut through your woefully inadequate cloak. When Azriel had mentioned bringing you along to Windhaven, you'd packed what you thought was appropriate winter attire.

Apparently, "winter attire" in Velaris and "winter attire" in the Illyrian Mountains were two entirely different concepts.

Fountain in My Garden (1904) by Henri Martin

Frostbites

Summary : Bucky found you injured in the middle of a snowstorm.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x hero!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Mention of a dead body (neither yours nor bucky) hurt/comfort (?), Fluff! Lots of angst!!! Injury. The ending is open to interpretation.

Word Count : 1.9k

Notes : Hi all! It's moving day for me a this is a queued post. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes hated the cold.

It crawled into his skin, crept into his bones—even in the nonexistent metal one—and wrapped around his lungs like a chokehold. It reminded him too much of long Russian winters, of blood stains in the snow.

But he was out here anyway.

Because you hadn’t come back.

The war has returned, and the smell of death is everywhere.

The bombing and missiles never stop, There is no more food, drink, or even a safe place to sleep.

Even the internet connection has been cut off, and I am no longer able to share my story with you.

My loyal friends, please donate even a small amount and share my posts to reach donors.

I need you by my side. You are my only hope, Help me save my family from death and get out of Gaza to live in a safe place.

Shadowkissed

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s shadows have always been an extension of his soul, but none more than the one that refuses to leave your side, even when he’s away. It watches, protects, and lingers in the darkness, whispering promises of the mate who would burn the world to keep you safe.

The first time you noticed it, you had woken in the middle of the night, the dim moonlight casting long, jagged shadows along the walls of your bedroom in the House of Wind. You had reached for Azriel’s side of the bed, only to find it empty and cold. Gone on a mission, as he so often was.

But you weren’t alone.

while not abnormal, it was strange having jason out so long. you've managed to will yourself to perform menial tasks to pass the time, laundry, picking up your boyfriend’s books, sharpening his knives.

anything to fight the urge to be that girlfriend. in actuality, you're not, and you trust JASON TODD more than anyone.

you simply…miss him. in a different way than when he's out on patrol. no, tonight—while he's out with his friends—you selfishly miss him more than when his life's on the line. because at least then, he’s working. serving a purpose. and you can't really fault that.

but drinks with roy and dick? that’s leisure. that’s laughter and warmth and something you selfishly crave as much as you can. you try not to stare at your phone. somehow successful. but the moment you hear the front door open and the soft shuffle of boots against hardwood, you're practically at attention.

he stumbles a little—just a little—and kicks the door shut behind him. hoodie down, jacket open, trademark black tee, cheeks absolutely flushed. his eyes are trained on you, soft and glossy.

“hi, sweetheart.” he says, voice a little too loud for the quiet apartment. “miss me?”

you blink at him from the couch, blanket still pulled over your lap. “you’re drunk.”

he grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “little bit.”

you tilt your head, watching him, skeptical. “you drove?”

“nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door. “dick called us a ride. he’s annoying like that.”

“responsible, you mean.”

jason points to you, swaying just a bit. “that too.”

he trudges toward you with all the grace of a man who’s fought off armed gangs but now can’t quite coordinate his feet. the couch dips and groans when he crashes beside you. he immediately flops sideways into your lap with a dramatic groan, stifled by your sweatshirt and blanket.

“ugh. my girl.” he mumbles, face smooshed against your thigh. “missed you.”

you fight the smile curling at your lips, running a hand through his hair. “you smell like cheap whiskey, todd.”

“it was expensive whiskey.” he says into your leg, offended.

you hum, fingers dragging gently along his scalp. “you hungry?”

“nah. full of street vendor shit—buncha bad decisions.”

you laugh quietly, smoothing your thumb over the little scar near his temple. “you good?”

he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed by your thighs, blinking up at you like you hung the stars, “m’okay. just tired. and maybe a little tipsy...and definitely in love with you.”

your breath catches, eyes softening. he's too good at this—really. he says it so casually, so sweetly, it knocks the wind right out of your chest.

“…yeah?” you ask softly.

“mhm,” he coos, eyes fluttering shut. “love you so much it’s stupid.”

writer's note .☘︎ ݁˖ you mfs loved drunk!reader and jason so ofc i had to give you drunk!jason. he's hot and i missed writing for him!! i'm glad to be back from my break—i hope you like my first little writing back! if you do—consider reblogging and/or commenting <3

@bunyx-kiss 4 u, thank you for wanting it !!

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

Failure to Launch- b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You go radio silent for a day, and Bucky comes to check on you. He doesn't know exactly what you need, but he tries his best to help.

Warnings: Bucky's anxious internal monologue, reader shows symptoms of depression

a/n: Thanks to the anon who requested this-- well, something similar to this. I might've taken it in a different direction than intended, but this felt really nice for me to write. The ending was taken from something I've personally experienced ("Find you a man who..." etc etc. They exist.)

My Masterlist

Find me on ao3: dewystars

You weren’t answering your phone.

Bucky wasn’t worried at first— you had a life outside of him, after all. He had sent his good morning text late that day; he was up before dawn for work, and he didn’t want to wake you. When he finally sent it during a break in training, you didn’t reply— but that was fine. You were well into your workday by now, probably caught up on some conference call.

He didn’t want to seem overbearing, so he only sent a few other texts throughout the day. He nearly called you at lunch, but thought better of it— you were busy, you were fine, and you didn’t need him nervously checking in. But he still hadn’t heard from you by the end of the day, and the worry was starting to creep in. When he did call, the phone rang, and rang, and sent him to voicemail. Bucky tried to tell himself it was just your phone service being shitty, or maybe it was his— but something didn’t feel right, and he didn’t want to wait to find out.

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐨𝐰

— summary: a sleepy moment between you and jason on a rainy day.

— author's note: i'm so sorry, this is super short! i'm working on three other separate things but felt like writing just a little bit for jason...

Grey light staggers through the open window, sluggish along the floorboards. Rain taps against the wood, leaving behind darkened spots like spilt ink along parchment.

Jason's fingertips dance along your skin like rain drops themselves, pressing into the meat of your arm gently as if you were made up of piano keys. Your sighs that of silent melodies.