#stuckydrewx

Painted in Indigo by nekare (Mature, 11k)

“You should be careful of that one,” Mr. Hendrickson says, with a nod to Bucky outside the window. “It ain’t right. Looking at you all the time as he does. The way he should be looking at girls.”

Steve laughs, because damn, but what a ridiculous idea.

Or, five times Steve caught Bucky looking at him, and the one time he looked first.

The Last Time by MaddieWritesStucky (Explicit, 3k)

‘Friends’ don’t do what they do, especially not friends of the same sex. There are words for people like that, ugly words that feel jarring to hear and even worse to say...

But when Bucky’s body is on top of his, when Bucky’s breath is warm against his neck and his teeth are scraping over that pulse point just below his ear?

...It’s easy to forget that they aren’t allowed to want this.

A Different Touch by GoldBlooded (Explicit, 2.5k)

Every day, Steve passes the garage on his walk to work, and every day he sees a particular mechanic and just wants.

Tonight, he's gonna get it.

April, 1939 by what_alchemy (Explicit, 2.6k)

Bucky knows what Steve wants when he comes in like that, hair wet, robe slipping off his shoulder.

Nice Work if You Can Get It by reserve (Mature, 13k)

Bucky Barnes and his best pal Steve Rogers stumble into a situation that leaves Bucky feeling tongue-tied, out of his element, and convinced that Steve—Steve!—has more experience with the ladies than he previously let on. It's terrible.

(Pre-serum Steve, pre-war Brooklyn, befuddled Bucky, and showgirls, for your pleasure.)

Room's Still Spinning by hollybennett123 (Explicit, 3.3k)

“This ain’t no dance I’ve ever seen before,” Steve protests, trying not to laugh and not quite succeeding. He grasps at Bucky’s shirt, the fabric twisting sharply in his fist as he steadies himself, anchored.

“It’s ours,” Bucky says as he turns it into an off-tempo waltz, eyes bright and his wide, lush mouth kissed pretty. “Our dance, you an’ me.”

Wake by toffeecape (Explicit, 3.6k)

Steve has trouble processing grief. Bucky helps him out.

Through The Open Window by 74days (Explicit, 28.6k)

Steve Rogers gave up on joining the army and worked for Stark Industries writing policy letters by hand. It's a dull job, right up until the office across the fire escape is given to an attractive stranger with one arm and no personal boundaries. (Steve and Bucky if Steve & Bucky never met as kids.)

Hot as a Two Dollar Pistol by strangeasfiction (Explicit, 2.5k)

“You just never danced with anyone good enough. Give me one night and I’ll having you gliding along with the prettiest dames there.”

Steve couldn’t help but snort again. “Wouldn’t people talk.”

A moment of silence, nothing but buzzing from a fly perplexed by the impermeable top half of their open window.

“You’d dance with me, though.”

It wasn’t a question, but it very clearly was.

Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen by Laura JV (Explicit, 7.5k)

Bucky Barnes and the Great Sexuality Crisis of 1938.

Big Talker by sariane (Explicit, 2.3k)

“Bucky,” Steve says absently, “What’s it like, being with a guy?”

Bucky tells him.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you by alby_mangroves (Explicit, 11k)

Steve had already stopped believing in the hopeful mantra that he just hadn't met the right person yet, that things would turn around for him, that someone would see past his shortcomings.

Fact was, he'd known that someone most of his life but no amount of looking past shortcomings was gonna deliver that person into his arms.

It's 1937, and Steve takes matters into his own hands.

we wear red so they don't see us bleed by unicornpoe (T, 2k)

Bucky sits on the hard wooden bench, back against the cold wall, and stares across the holding cell at the other man.

He glares back. Blood on his chin, in his teeth, in his hair; a nasty bruise coming up over the bridge of his nose and around his puffed-up eye. Knuckles split. Sharp chin jutted out at a defiant angle. The collar of his shirt is ripped, and the garment gapes across his clavicle, showing a bruise running up the side of his neck as well.

Small, Bucky thinks; all ragged edges and razor-sharp angles. But strong.

And pretty.

And stupid.

(Bucky and Steve spend one night in a holding cell together. They leave together, too.)

Paint You Like a Picture by Deisderium (Explicit, 2k)

Bucky comes home from work to find Steve at a stopping point in his work; Steve is still feeling artsy.

All Myself To You by MaddieWritesStucky (T, 3.2k)

The familiar song winds its way around them as they stand, looking at one another the same way they always have; the way that is 'almost' and 'if only', and there’s more than music waiting in the space between them. Bucky swallows, breathes in deep, and Steve waits for the inevitable step backwards; the turn away that has always followed the step toward.

But it doesn’t come.

Bucky breathes in deep, and shifts his feet forward, the smallest movement closer.

He breathes in deep, and reaches out his hand; palm upwards like the offering it is.

“…Will you dance with me, Steve?”

Accidentally on Purpose by nekare, notallbees (Explicit, 12.5k)

After Bucky drunkenly kisses Steve by accident, it just seems to keep on happening, until it's not so much by accident anymore.

Dream a Little Dream Of Me by unicornpoe (T, 6.5k)

Steve turns, wiping his hands on the ragged dish towel he holds, and Bucky can’t even smile—

Because here’s a truth: when Bucky was strapped to that table in Italy, and when Bucky was crouched in muddy trenches while bullets whistled overhead, and when Bucky was dying in a hospital bed, thrashing with a fever, he resolved to tell Steve if he made it out alive, because he couldn’t bear the idea of leaving this earth behind without Steve ever having known that Bucky loves him.

(After the war, Bucky comes home.)

Well-worn by dharmashark (T, 5.2k)

Bucky was halfway out the window when Steve grumbled, “Can’t believe you named a chicken after me.”

He turned back to look at Steve over his shoulder.

“Just missed you, I guess.”

He was still smiling, but it was the honest kind that grew from both corners of his mouth. Not teasing. The weight on Steve’s chest widened, a familiar measure of dread that lasted all summer, long after the hand-me-down sweater stopped smelling like Bucky.

It really would’ve been easier if he were teasing.

—

Five times Steve tried on Bucky’s clothes, and the one time they fit.

Twelve Nights by spokenitalics (Explicit, 4.5k)

Hands brushing against smooth ivory, Bucky explores Steve's body — his arms, his legs, his chest, where his heart is beating so fast it's a surprise it hasn't burst out of his rib cage yet.

"Are you scared?" he asks, whispers. "It's alright if you are."

Steve swallows nervously. "Are you?"

"Hell, yeah."

Or, twelve nights spread across eighty years, from first time to first time.

Throw In the Towel by sunflower_dragon19 (Explicit, 7k)

Steve comes down with scarlet fever, and Bucky spends every last penny he has on the medication. He doesn't regret it one bit, but now there's nothing left for rent and groceries. Desperate for cash, he starts fighting in underground boxing matches run by the mob.

Every time he comes home late, flushed red and sweating from exertion, Steve assumes he was out with a girl. Bucky doesn't correct him. He also doesn't let himself think too hard about why Steve seems so pissed off about it.

One Day We Won't Have to Be Scared by Paraxdisepink (Explicit, 13.5k)

Written for this prompt: Steve and Bucky are at a gay bar in the 30s, and some guy offers them money to take pictures of them as they fuck. They need the money, they say yes, and pretty much forget about it afterwards. The pictures come out years later.

The Very Thought of You by what_alchemy (Explicit, 6.2k)

Bucky's got a date with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn. If only he could stop wishing she were someone else.

1A by PR Zed (Mature, 3.2k)

Steve lies on the couch, staring at the piece of paper clutched tightly in both hands, not quite believing it's his. A Department of Selective Service Certificate of Acceptability. And stamped in the corner, 1A.

Steve gets what he thought he wanted. Bucky comes back for a proper goodbye.

A Little More Light by MacksDramaticShenanigans (G, 7.5k)

“How many times do I hafta tell you, you ain’t crashin’ anything. We want you there,” Bucky assures, and bends down so his head falls into Steve’s line of sight, which has dropped back down to his sketchbook. Bucky’s practically lying in his lap now, and he reaches a hand up to touch Steve’s cheek, soft and gentle. “I want you there.”

When In Sparta by Ark (Explicit, 2.8k)

“You still like to do this?” Bucky’s voice is low, like an invisible someone might be listening.

“Sure,” says Steve, who likes nothing more, though he tries to sound non-committal. “If you want to.”

Look At the Stars (Look How They Shine For You) by GoldBlooded (G, 1k)

Every year Bucky struggled with getting Steve a present worthy of his magnificence. At age ten, watching Steve chew on a nub of a pencil as he drew weird little comics in the corner of his notebook at school, Bucky Barnes was struck with inspiration.

Winter, New York City by unicornpoe (G, 3.6k)

Between the rough sheets stretched rumpled across the bed, two boys curl like a set of parentheses around each other and their breaths mingle arhythmically in that dark place behind Bucky’s eyelids. It’s still night until he looks; it’s still night, and he doesn’t have to move.

But then: a shift, Steve’s head rolling a little where it rests on Bucky’s chest, soft-fine hair rasping against Bucky’s collar bone. A quiet, wet cough.

And Bucky opens his eyes.

Now we have met by Ark (Explicit, 4.3k)

Whatever they came in for, they need to get it and go. In the morning Steve’ll give Bucky a talking-to. The living room is fine, hell, it’s half Bucky’s flat and he can do as he pleases, but Steve would really prefer if he kept his dates from the bedroom, it’s not an unreasonable--

“James! Is that your roommate?” They’re trying to whisper, but drunken whispers are highly pitched.

“Yeah, that’s Steve.”

“Well, won’t he mind?”

“Naw. You never met a better fella. Besides, Stevie’d sleep through an earthquake.”

even if there is no star in sight by inwardphae (Mature, 18k)

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have always been in love, but they never had the guts to tell each other how they really feel.

In 1943, Steve has to watch his best friend cross the ocean while he's left behind. In 1945, Sergeant James Barnes is declared MIA. In 1946, Bucky comes home from the war.

Or: the one where the serum doesn't exist, recovery is a long way ahead and Bucky can't cope with the darkness he's sure is hidden between his ribs and his heart. Steve, bless him, refuses to see it. And oh so slowly, Bucky starts to believe him.

The Prettiest Dame by glitterykoi (Explicit, 3.3k)

Steve’s in the back room, if you could call it a room. It’s more of a curtained-off corner where they keep the mirror and a few hooks for shirts. He’s quiet, but Bucky hears the soft rustle of fabric. The little click of a barrette.

“You almost ready, doll?” Bucky calls.

If You Let Me by lillupon (Mature, 7k)

Steve always thought it was silly how easily girls fell for Bucky, even though they must have known he would only break their hearts. Told himself that he would require more than a few sweet words and a cocky grin. But thinking that while watching Bucky charm his way into a girl’s bed for the night is completely different from being on the receiving end of it.

Bucky teaches Steve how to flirt.

Photo Booth by copperbadge (T, 2.3k)

Seventy years ago, Steve and Bucky had their picture taken.

Hold Still by bopeep, ElisAttack (T, 10k)

Sarah Rogers knows her boy inside and out, for better and for worse, and she doesn't suggest he spend his afternoons studying Bucky Barnes' handsome face just for practice.

A mother knows things, even if her son and his angsty childhood friend haven't quite figured it out yet.

Impressions of You by Brynncognito, zooeyscigar (T, 3.5k)

Bucky is suspicious. Not only that, he's outright curious. Steve's always been a little touchy about his art, and a little particular about who he shows it to, but he's never hidden an entire sketchbook from Bucky before.

Or, Steve Rogers fills an entire sketchbook with pictures of Bucky, and Bucky finds it.

Ill With Want by thedoubteriswise (Mature, 27k)

Bucky pretends to be asleep when Steve crawls into bed, too tired to feel guilty over the quivery pleasure that settles in his belly when Steve’s arm brushes his. Steve falls asleep in about five minutes flat, unconsciously wedging his icy toes against Bucky’s leg. Bucky doesn’t move him.

- it's like Steve doesn't really know how to take a compliment; like maybe he doesn't believe he's deserving of it.

Which is why Bucky makes a point of slipping compliments wherever he can, just to watch Steve's skin flush pink and his eyes flit down and away for a moment, shy and yet pleased. Because he may not know how to handle praise, but dear lord does Steve like it. He seems to think he shouldn't, but oh, oh he loves it, he's so obviously tickled by it, and Bucky wants to keep him looking that pleased all the time. Wants to mouth at that hot, flushed, creamy skin and sink his teeth in it, nibble on the pliant flesh of Steve's ear when it gets all cherry-red like that, eat him up until all of Steve is tucked safely inside of him and he can still feel the taste of him on his tongue.

- the most gorgeous sight to see, is the way Steve melts in his hands when Bucky calls him something as simple as Handsome.

- like when they're in bed and the sheets ride low across Steve's waist, and he's sprawled out and relaxed, soft like a dream, all mussed from his sleep, his arms up like a halo around his head; and Bucky can't help but reach for him with a reverent hand, can't help the warm rumble that rises from his chest when he sighs out, enraptured, "So goddamn beautiful, Stevie."

and then Steve lets out a half-hearted groan, so embarrassed he can't even look Bucky in the eye, and buries his beautiful, blossom-pink face in his pillow just for something to do.

- one of Bucky's favorite things to do in the morning, is take the first sip of the coffee Steve fixed him and make a show of moaning in pure bliss, like it's the single most delicious thing he's ever had the pleasure of tasting. (It's not. Nothing will ever taste as richly, decadently good as Steve does.)

Oh how he'll be humming, "Baby, baby, s' perfect," licking a drop of milky two-sugars coffee off his bottom lip, eyes trained on Steve's face to watch the pink spread across his cheeks. "Mmmh, just the way I like it."

The mug is still in his hand, the drink hot and curling with steam, but nothing warms Bucky quicker than seeing Steve smile that coy little smile, and look up at him through those golden eyelashes of his, so sweet he ought to have made all of Bucky's teeth rot black by now.

oh!! if you don't mind, may I throw in a couple of Wakanda era headcanons where something kinda like this occurs, too? 💖

- they go on walks together almost every day - later in the afternoon, when the sun is a little more merciful and the glow paints everything orange and gold.

The first day, they walk side by side, their steps syncing up with the same ease as they did when they were boys.

The second day, they drift so close that their arms brush together the whole way through, and Bucky's heart sings and trembles with every whisper of touch between them.

When they step out the door on the third day, Bucky finally decides he's going all out. No sense in denying himself something he's wanted to do since he was a gangly teenager hopelessly in love with his best friend and scared half to death about it. He doesn't say a word; he just offers Steve his hand.

A moment's hesitation ticks by. He can see it on Steve's face -- They've never done this before, except for behind closed doors -- but he can see the glimmer of hope there, too, shining in Steve's eyes when Steve swallows and looks up at him, his soft lips parted around a tentative exhale.

"You sure?" he asks, as sweet and fragile as a single breath in the dark of night.

"I'm sure," Bucky says. Any more words would be superfluous.

Steve's head ducks just so -- the way it does when Bucky murmurs sweet nothings to him, like his feelings are too big for even his big gorgeous body to contain -- but when he slips his warm hand in Bucky's, and lets himself be led through the village like that, hand in hand, his smile is as sweet as they come.

- the first few times Steve comes to visit, Bucky introduces him to his neighbors. Steve doesn't speak Xhosa yet -- so far, all he knows how to say is the equivalent of "hello" and "nice to meet you". But there's a word, or possibly a phrase, that he keeps hearing when Bucky talks about him, and he knows it has to do with him because it usually accompanies his name.

When he brings it up one morning, after the fifth or sixth time it's happened, Bucky's piling fried eggs and crisp bacon on their plates. He barely even blinks at the question.

"Oh, it means 'beloved'," he tells Steve.

"Beloved?"

"As in, my beloved," Bucky explains. "They asked who you were, so I told them." He shrugs his good shoulder. "Wasn't sure if 'boyfriend' applied, us being a coupl'a wizened old centenarians and all."

He watches it dawn on Steve, the news that everybody in the village -- possibly even in the city -- now knows him as the White Wolf's beloved. Steve's eyes gleam with it.

"You've been telling them all...?"

"I'm gonna tell everyone who'll listen."

The way Steve looks at him then, brimming with so much love, so much emotion, makes Bucky feel like the richest man in the world.

"Buck..."

Their hands find each other across the table. The two of them, they've found many ways, over the years, to say I love you without uttering the words themselves; that's what Bucky believes they're telling each other now. That's what he sees on Steve's face, what he hopes Steve can find on his.

I love you.

I want everybody to know.

He remembers wishing that when he was a bright young thing, dreaming of screaming it from the rooftops like any other kid in love, drunk on it, feeling buoyant with it; and now, for the first time in his life, Bucky has the power to make that wish come true.

"Come on, eat up," he says with a squeeze 'round Steve's hand. "Eggs don't taste half as good when they're cold."

Steve obliges him.

He says nothing more, but he smiles down at his plate throughout the whole meal.

- the children approve of Steve. They come by all the time to play or watch him and Bucky work, perched on low tree branches, little legs swinging as they call to each other and laugh and talk Steve into letting them climb on his shoulders (Steve only understands a couple of words here and there, but he has the time of his life gathering six or seven squealing children up in his arms just to see how many he can lift at once).

The day they see him effortlessly lift the whole cart, hay and all, because one of the wheels got stuck and the stupid thing just wouldn't budge, they're really kind of impressed. They tell Bucky as much in a chorus of excited voices.

"They say you're strong," he translates for Steve, and Steve looks up with a grin, his hair a mess and his brow glistening with sweat under the morning sun. Bucky could swear he sees him stand a little taller, chest puffed up like a preening bird showing off his feathers.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Bucky calls back. And then, because he can't help himself, "I told them you're the strongest guy I know."

And there it is, with clockwork precision, the sweet spread of pink over Steve's perfect cheekbones. Bucky's favorite color has been blue since he was about seven, but this? This rosy shade so akin to pleasure? It's a close second these days.