since it's spotify wrapped day it's time for my favourite game - send me a number from 1-100 and I'll share that song from my top songs of 2025 playlist!
🎶-What’s your f/o’s favorite song(s)? What about your s/i?
🎼-What genres does your f/o listen to? Are they picky when it comes to music, or will they listen to anything?
🎤-Does your f/o sing along to the music they listen to? What does their singing voice sound like? Are they loud or quiet? Do they sing where other people are around, or only when they’re alone?
🎧-Are they good at memorizing song lyrics? Are they good at understanding song lyrics, or are they constantly mishearing them or misinterpreting them?
🎸-Are there any songs that your f/o would consider “literally them”? Why?
🥁-Does your f/o own physical copies of the music they like, or any band merch? If so, what?
🎙️-What songs do YOU associate with your f/o, and what songs do you associate with your s/i and/or selfship?
🎹-Do they prefer to listen to music alone or with others? Do they listen with earbuds, headphones, a speaker, a record player, ect? Do they like concerts?
🎺-Where and when does your f/o like to listen to music? Do they listen to music while doing chores, while working, while relaxing, ect?
🎻-Do the lyrics of a song matter to your f/o, or are the instrumentals more important to them?
📻-Are there any songs that your f/o associates with you/your s/i that don’t have to do with your relationship? Why?
🪗-what is your f/o’s least favorite song? Are there any genres that they hate?
-What does your f/o consider to be “your song”? (Does your s/i have a different song in mind, or is it the same?)
It's really funny to me that the first ask i get about musicians is clearly meant to bait me into talking shit bout one of the worst pop artists on the market.
Taylor Swift is the proof that it doesn't matter how mediocre you are, as long as your daddy has the money and connections you can be the top pop star in the world. Also, I know we all hate ye now, but I don't like that she got away with outright lying about him in the media and when ye had a recorded phone call that proved she was a racist shit head lying, no one gave two shits.
Title: When All Is Said and Done (Was I Not Good Enough?)
Pairing: PostEndgame!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader
Summary: After Steve leaves to live his life with Peggy, Bucky is left behind, struggling with feelings of abandonment and unworthiness. Haunted by the thought that if Steve could leave him, maybe he was never truly worth saving, Bucky spirals into self-doubt. You try to be an anchor in the storm.
Word Count: 4.3k
Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI, Angst, Slight Dub-Con, Unprotected sex (Wrap it!) NO Beta Read
A/N: Enty for @princessmisery666Daily Mixes Challenge BAD OMENS - Said & Done
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights streaming through the half-drawn curtains. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, his metal hand resting heavily on his knee, its cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of his turmoil. The letter Steve had left lay crumpled on the nightstand, its edges frayed from Bucky’s restless grip. He had read it so many times that he could recite the words from memory, yet they still cut like a dagger.
‘I had to do this for me,’ the phrase echoed in his mind, over and over, a haunting refrain. What did Steve mean by that? Every time Bucky tried to dissect the words, they only seemed to fracture further. At first, they felt like abandonment, a betrayal of their years together. Then they felt selfish-a stark declaration that Bucky’s struggle didn’t matter. And now, now they had twisted into something darker: confirmation that Bucky wasn’t worth staying for.
He stared at his reflection in the window, the faint outline of his face distorted against the city’s glow. Was this what Steve saw when he looked at him? A broken shell of the man he used to be? The thought clawed at his chest, tightening his breath. Maybe Steve had been waiting for an excuse to leave. Maybe saving Bucky had always been more of a burden than he let on.
Sam had tried to check in, his voice gentle but persistent.
“Buck, we need you here. Let me help,” he’d said one afternoon, standing in the doorway to Bucky’s apartment. But the words only grated on Bucky’s fraying nerves.
“You can’t help,” Bucky had snapped, his voice colder than he intended. “You’re not the one he left behind.”
The sting of those words lingered in Sam’s eyes, but he didn’t push back. Instead, he gave a single nod and walked away, leaving Bucky to the heavy silence that had become his constant companion.
It wasn’t long before Bucky stopped answering the door entirely. The knocks came less frequently, each unanswered visit another nail in the coffin of his isolation. Soon, they stopped altogether, leaving him in a vacuum of his own making.
He spent most days like this-sitting in the dim light, staring at nothing in particular. The city outside buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the stillness inside his room. The only movement came from the faint trembling of his hands, the metal one glinting faintly in the light. Sometimes he would reach for the letter, his fingers brushing its edges, as if hoping the words would change. But they never did.
The nights were worse. The darkness brought memories he couldn’t escape: the weight of Steve’s shield in his hand, the sound of his voice promising they’d figure it out together. Those promises now felt like empty echoes, haunting him with what could never be again. Sleep was rare and fleeting, filled with dreams that blurred into nightmares, where Steve’s back was always turned, walking away without looking back.
You had noticed the signs. Bucky’s withdrawn behaviour wasn’t just an avoidance of others; it was a deliberate effort to disappear. He rarely answered his phone, and when he did, his responses were clipped and evasive. Days turned into weeks without a word from him, and your worry grew until it became unbearable.
The aftermath of Thanos had already taken a toll of a lot of you. It felt like your little 'found family' had scattered to the wind. It hurt. Hurt that Bucky was retreating and you'd wanted to give him space, but.. you were worried. You missed him.
Standing at his door for what felt like the hundredth time you hesitated before knocking. When there was no answer, you knocked again, louder this time.
“Bucky?” you called softly. Silence greeted you, but it didn’t deter you. You tried the handle and found it unlocked.
The sight inside was worse than you had feared. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly shut. Bucky sat hunched over on the edge of the couch, his metal hand gripping the edge of the coffee table with enough force to leave faint indents in the wood. He didn’t look up as you stepped inside, his head bowed as though the weight of his thoughts had become too heavy to bear.
“Bucky,” you said gently, your voice breaking the stillness. “You weren't answering your phone, I got worried about you.”
He let out a low, humourless laugh, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were shadowed, tired, but there was a flicker of something else there-guilt.
“You shouldn’t waste your time worrying about me Doll. I’m not worth it.”
Your chest tightened at his words, but you refused to let them push you away.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “I care about you, Bucky. And shutting yourself off from the world isn’t going to help.”
For a moment, he looked as though he might argue, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. He leaned back against the couch, exhaling shakily.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Fix what?” you replied, sitting down beside him, your voice softer now, coaxing him to open up.
He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to his hands, the metal one clenching and unclenching slightly, as though he were trying to find the right words. The silence stretched between you, filled with the faint hum of the city outside and the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall.
Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “Everything,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Why do you come?” he snapped, his words laced with anger and desperation. “I’m not your problem to fix.”
The force of his tone startled you, but you didn’t flinch.
“I don't want to keep loosing people. I’m here because I care.”
He let out a bitter laugh, getting up shaking his head as he paced the small space.
“Care? About what? About some broken soldier who can’t even hold onto the one person who mattered?” His voice cracked, the bitterness giving way to something raw and vulnerable.
“Bucky,” you said softly, of course this was about Steve.. “Steve didn’t leave because of you. He made a choice for himself. It doesn’t mean you weren’t enough.”
He turned away, his hands clenching at his sides.
“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Steve couldn't stand the idea of what I am now. He was wrong about me…You're all wrong about me.” His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He couldn’t bring himself to believe he was worthy of anything-not forgiveness, not friendship, not love.
Your chest tightened at the sight of him standing there, shoulders hunched as though he was carrying the weight of the world. You took a cautious step forward, your voice steady but filled with conviction.
“Steve wasn’t wrong, Bucky. He believed in you, and so do I. You are worth fighting for. You always have been.”
"Then why isn't he still here?"
He finally looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that he refused to let fall. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but instead, he slumped into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. His breaths were uneven, his shoulders trembling under the weight of his emotions.
You moved closer, kneeling in front of him trying to get him to look at you. “It’s okay to feel this way,” you said gently. “It’s okay to be angry, to hurt, to grieve. But don’t let it convince you that you’re not worth saving. Because you are.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. Before you could think of what to say next, Bucky suddenly moved. His metal hand shot out, gripping your face with surprising gentleness given the desperation in his movements. His other hand followed, cradling your jaw as though you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.
His lips crashed onto yours, hard and unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss of romance but one of raw pain, a silent scream in the form of a desperate connection. His face was wet, and it took you a moment to realize it was from his tears, tears you hadn’t even known he’d been shedding. They mixed with the salty taste of his lips, painting a picture of the storm raging inside him.
The kiss broke as abruptly as it began, and Bucky pulled back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. His tears continued to fall, unchecked and raw, as he whispered, "I don't know how to be okay. I don't even know where to start."
Your hands found their way to his wrists, holding onto him as if to ground him.
"Shh it.." you murmured, your voice unsteady even as your heart pounded in your chest.
"I'm drowning can I don't know how-" He was kissing you again, this mad scramble for something. Anything to hold onto.
The kiss was harder this time, with a desperation that bordered on breaking. His grip on your face tightened-not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he was holding onto you like you were his only tether to the world. His tears didn’t stop, and neither did the trembling in his hands. This wasn’t a kiss of comfort; it was still this raw and unfiltered act, a cry for salvation in the form of closeness.
His lips moved against yours like they were begging, pleading for something he couldn’t put into words. His breath hitched between kisses, the sound catching in his throat like he was choking on his own anguish. He pressed you closer, his metal hand slipping around your back, holding you as if letting go would shatter him completely.
“I’m so tired,” he whispered between the frantic press of his lips against yours, his voice cracking. “Tired of feeling this way. Tired of carrying it all.”
“Bucky…” you breathed, your own voice trembling as you tried to keep up with his frantic pace, your hands moving to his shoulders in an attempt to ground him. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here.”
“Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to yours as his words spilled out like a confession. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t- I can’t do this alone.”
Your heart broke at the sheer vulnerability in his voice, at the way he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him afloat. His lips brushed yours again, softer this time but no less desperate, as though he was afraid you’d disappear the moment he let go.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, cupping his face as your thumbs brushed away his tears. “I’m here, Buck. Promise.”
His breath hitched again, his entire body shaking as his forehead pressed harder against yours. “I don’t know how to stop it,” he admitted, his voice a broken whisper. “It’s like… like I cant breath anymore...” his voice cracking as his hands slipped to your waist, clutching you tightly pulling you into his chest between his legs “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this… like I’m suffocating.”
“Bucky, you’re not alone,” you whispered, your hands moving to cradle his face again, desperate to reassure him. “I’m right here.”
But it wasn’t enough-not for him. He shook his head, his eyes wild and glistening with fresh tears. “I need… I need to feel something. Anything that isn’t this.”
Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, harder and more insistent, his desperation spilling into every frantic movement He was out of the chair, you on your back beneath him. The hard surface bit into you. His metal hand braced against the floor beside your head, while his flesh hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though trying to memorize the feel of you. His kisses were messy, frantic, his breath uneven as he broke away only to return seconds later, pressing his lips to yours as if afraid the connection would slip through his fingers.
“Just… please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice breaking again. “Just let me feel something. Let me forget for a little while.”
“Bucky…” you breathed, your hands finding his chest pushing back a little was his weight got heavy. “You don’t have to do this. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I need this,” he said, his voice raw, trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. “I need you. Just for a little while. Please.”
His words shattered something inside you, the raw vulnerability and desperation in his tone cutting through any hesitation you might have had. Your hands moved to his hair, threading through the strands as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his with equal intensity. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he shook with barely contained emotion, and you poured every ounce of reassurance you could into the kiss.
“It’s ok,” you whispered against his lips, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you, this wasn’t what you imagined. “I’m here, Bucky-.” He lips cut your off again. His lips captured yours with a bruising force, silencing whatever reassurance you’d been about to offer. The desperation in his kiss deepened, raw and almost frantic, his hand moved from your face.
As his lips continued to devour yours, his hands moved with a desperation that matched the intensity of his kisses. You felt his fingers brush against your waist, and then his hands were on your pants, tugging them down with a force that made the fabric tear. The sound of ripping cloth was lost in the chaos of his kisses, and before you could even process what was happening, his belt was undone, the metallic clink of the buckle hitting the floor a distant echo in your mind. You wanted to tell him to slow down it didn’t need to be like this. But his mouth didn’t relent.
Bucky’s mouth never left yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated, frantic dance as his body pressed against yours, the weight of him pinning you firmly to the hard surface. He was driven by a force that was more emotional than physical, and you didn’t have time to think as his body shifted fully on top of you. His hips surged forward, the powerful motion stealing the breath from your lungs, and you let him sink into you completely, your body arching to meet his.
A strangled noise escaped you, muffled against his mouth, as Bucky took what he needed with an unrestrained urgency. The sensation was overwhelming, his body filling yours with a force that left your head spinning. His lips broke away from yours only to crash back again, every kiss bruising and desperate. The air around you seemed to thrum with the intensity of his emotions, his ragged breath punctuated by guttural grunts and growls that sent shivers racing down your spine.
“Ugh-” The sound escaped him, a deep, almost feral noise as he buried himself deeper into you. His forehead pressed to yours briefly before his lips found your neck, teeth grazing your skin as a low growl rumbled from his chest. “I need… I need this,” he ground out, his voice rough and shaking with barely contained emotion.
You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair and your nails digging into his scalp as if to keep yourself tethered to reality. But he didn’t let up, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that bordered on chaos. Each movement was accompanied by another guttural noise from him, a deep, broken sound that spoke of both pain and longing.
“Bucky,” you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his body invading into yours, the weight of his need pressing down on you like a tidal wave. His growls turned into sharp, strained groans, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his body moved against yours in a desperate, almost primal rhythm.
The sounds coming from him were almost animalistic-each grunt and growl carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say. It was as if he was pouring every ounce of his anguish, his need, and his desire into this moment, and you couldn’t help but be swept away by it. You felt like you were being consumed by him, his emotions and his body becoming one overwhelming force that threatened to break you apart and hold you together all at once.
A deep, broken groan tore from his throat as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. “God,” he growled, his voice cracking as his movements grew more frantic. “I can’t- I need-”
His head snapped up, his eyes wild and glassy as he looked at you. His lips parted, but the only sound that came was another deep, guttural noise as he kissed you again with bruising force. The desperation in his movements was mirrored by the growls that rumbled from deep within him, a constant, broken sound that sent heat pooling in your core as you felt yourself clench and squeeze around him. The force of the kiss sent a shockwave through you, your body arching instinctively to meet his. Your hips moving back meeting each hard and aching thrust from him. The endless kiss stole your breath as his need to pull you into the depths of his despair and keep you there with him. And you let him, because beneath the desperation, you could feel the unspoken plea: Don’t leave me. Don’t let me drown.
You felt the tears he hadn’t yet shed in the way his body pressed against yours, the tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, seeking more of you. His desperation was mirrored in the rhythm of his movements, frantic and erratic, like a man trying to escape a burning building with no clear exit. Every painful thrust, every growl, every trembling breath spoke of a pain so deep it clawed at your chest, forcing you to hold onto him tighter, to reassure him with every ounce of yourself that you were here-that you weren’t going anywhere.
And yet, as much as he needed you, you felt something within yourself stir-something just as raw, just as desperate. It wasn’t just his hands gripping you or the way his mouth claimed yours like a lifeline; it was the realization that his need mirrored your own. You’d felt adrift too, lost in the aftermath of everything you’d all been through. And here, in his arms, in his chaos, you found a sense of purpose, of connection, that you hadn’t realized you were missing, you were tired of being alone..
“Bu-ck.” Your grip on him tightened as you felt the coil inside tighten and build.
His response wasn’t words, but the way he pressed his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged and shallow as his hips moved in a frantic rhythm against you. The weight of him, the heat of his body, the tension coiled in every muscle-it was overwhelming. Your own body trembled beneath him, not just from the intensity of the moment but from the sheer force of his need crashing into you.
Shaking under him as it threaten to ruin you, your muscles coiled tight as you felt the end come rushing up to take you. You were lost in the storm, his strained grunting and the sound of him. Your body reached its breaking point. Your muscles clenched, your back arching off the surface beneath you as a shuddering cry tore from your throat. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you breathless and gasping for air.
“Nnmgh auh!”
Your body convulsed beneath him, your hips jerking upward to meet his as your inner muscles contracted in a series of sharp, intense spasms. The sound that escaped your lips was raw and primal, a keening wail that was lost in the cacophony of his own ragged breathing and strained grunting. His hips surged forward one final time, his body locking into yours as he let out a raw, anguished cry. You felt his warmth spill into you, his body trembling with the force of his release.
As the waves of pleasure receded, you felt his body collapse onto yours, his weight crushing you into the surface beneath. You didn't care - you were too busy trying to catch your breath, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.
His forehead was still pressed against yours, his breaths ragged and shallow. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release.
For a long moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined as you struggled to process the intensity of what had just happened
As the silence between you grew, you felt his body begin to relax, his muscles uncoiling as he let out a deep, shuddering breath. You felt your own body relax in response, your heart rate slowing as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close.
Bucky didn’t move for a long while, his body heavy against yours as his head rested against your shoulder. His breaths came slower now, though they still trembled with the remnants of his earlier desperation. You ran your fingers through his hair, the strands damp with sweat, offering him the quiet comfort he so desperately needed.
The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, mingling together in a steady rhythm. The weight of what had just happened hung in the air, but neither of you spoke, too afraid that words might shatter the fragile peace settling over you.
Finally, Bucky shifted, just slightly, enough to lift his head and meet your gaze. His blue eyes were glassy, filled with an emotion so raw it made your chest ache. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t,” you interrupted gently, your hand moving to cradle his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheek, wiping away the tear tracks that still lingered. “Don’t apologise, Bucky.”
He closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to hold himself together. “I’m a mess,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” you said softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along the side of his face. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. None of us do, we’re all trying to..” Move on, build back? “You aren’t alone.”
He opened his eyes again, searching your face as if trying to find some reassurance in your words. “Why?” he asked, the question filled with a vulnerability that cut straight to your heart. “Why would you want to stay with someone like me?”
“We’re in this together,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I see all of you, Bucky-the good, the bad, the broken. And I still want to be here.” You swallowed hard, it was time to just say it “I still want you.”
A shudder ran through his body, and he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours again. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.
A faint smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment. “But I’m stubborn, and I’m not going anywhere.”
A breathy laugh escaped him, shaky and uncertain, but it was the first spark of light you’d seen in him all night. He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing just a fraction more as his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.
The minutes ticked by, but neither of you moved to break the embrace. You could feel his heartbeat slowing, matching the rhythm of your own, as the tension in his body finally began to ease. You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at him.
“We’ll figure this out,” you said, your voice filled with quiet determination. “One step at a time. You’re not alone, Bucky. Not anymore.”
For the first time, he didn’t argue, didn’t try to push you away. Instead, he nodded, the smallest of movements, but it spoke volumes. His lips brushed against your forehead in a gesture so gentle it made your chest tighten.
“Thank you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say.
You held him tighter, the warmth of his body grounding you as much as you were grounding him. In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter-there was only the two of you, tangled together in a quiet, fragile connection but it was something to hold onto.
END
Again a big thankyou too @princessmisery666 for this challenge. I really liked a chance to explore this part of Bucky's story. Something was hesitant to tackle.
