#buck rogers poster inside

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - eleven

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, major character death mentions

word count: 2.6k

ten | masterlist

tag list: ​ @elizacusi-blog @mal-adaptive-dreams @thebuckybarnesvault @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @cakesandtom

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Alix slams the car door much to Juliette’s dismay and she makes a faint grunt of annoyance. Juliette follows after her into the building before them. It’s one of their hideouts gifted to them by Peggy when she’d made the original agreement. Peggy claimed that no one would be able to find them there and they would be safe to lay low. 

“Please don’t slam my door, it’s new.” 

Alix froze and only turned enough to see her subordinate out of the corner of her eye. No words came out alas Juliette is terrified and shrinks into herself as they continue their walk inside. 

The stress of being in New York wears into Alix’s shoulders and she hunches more than before, hiding her true size. Compared to her siblings, she’s small but standing at just over 6 feet, she dwarfs most other Lycan women. She’d used it to her advantage when she came up through the ranks but she would’ve made it either way. After her parents died, the pack leadership fell to her oldest brother but when he backed out for a woman, she took over.The disgrace of his actions followed her around but that didn’t stop her from fighting tooth and nail for the title of pack leader even if it is her family’s birth right.

Alix all but dumps herself onto a cot and shudders at the mild relaxation it offers her. Juliette sits down next to her, placing a hand on her knee as she watches the tension drain out of her. 

“You know…” she trails as she moves her hand further up Alix’s thigh. 

“Get your fucking hand off of me.” 

Juliette doesn’t answer or comply. Alix’s claws flash and she grips into her wrist, yanking it from her body. She drags the woman off of the cot and to the window that overlooks a 2 story drop. 

“Don’t ever fucking touch me. I won’t hesitate to tear you apart limb by fucking limb, you slut.”

Tears well in Juliette’s eyes as she nods feverishly to prove that she understands. She lets out a cry of relief when Alix drops her and goes to lay back down on the cot. 

“Did Peggy give you anything yet?”

“Uh…” she sniffles as she wipes at her face and digs into her jacket for her phone, “They’re going to Bucharest.”

“You already told me that.” “Oh I’m sorry. He only took the Rogers, Yelena, and Natasha with him so they’ll be low on security but she warned that he has people everywhere looking out for you. She advised that we wait before trying to go in.”

Alix lets a deep breath of frustration, “She can take her advice and shove it up her ass. Get John and Brock ready. We’ll leave in two days.”

“I really…”

“I don’t care what you think, just fucking do what I said. God I’m getting so sick of everyone’s back talk.”

Juliette swallows another hopeless cry and rapidly fires off messages to the pack, ensuring that they’ll be ready for the inevitably bloody fight that is going to happen.

“Ms. Sunny! Ms. Sunny!” Wyatt calls out to her as he bounds across the vast gardens of the Bucharest estate. 

Before Sunny and Peggy lay hundreds of flowers of all varieties and colors along with enough trees to create a wall between them and the outside world. In his hand, Wyatt held a small bouquet of flowers he undoubtedly picked from the bushes. Peggy flushed (if that’s even possible) at the sight and quickly got up to take them from the boy before Bucky saw.

“Oh honey, we don’t pick these flowers remember? They’re very special to Uncle Buck and he wouldn’t be very happy to know that you picked them without asking,” she said louder than needed, in efforts to make sure Sunny heard.

When she comes to sit back down, her plan seems to have worked because Sunny does immediately ask why they’re special. She pretends to bite back her response and acts as if she hadn’t meant for her to hear before “giving in” and telling her. Peggy starts by coyly looking at her son who is playing with Yelena and then dives right into the story of Celeste. The gardens had been her pride and joy when the weather allowed. She would spend hours upon hours outside, making sure that every flower got the attention it deserved. It warmed Bucky’s heart to see his love taking joy in a life that only offered pain to their kind and even more with their business. Peggy spared no detail in her story, exposing every secret she could think of from how Sunny and Celeste looked identical down to their ardent dislike for Bucky at first to how she had been found dead by him. She doesn’t bother to look at the human as she lies out of everything she knows about Celeste and Bucky, mostly because she doesn’t want to see the shock of betrayal that is undoubtedly stretched across her face. 

Peggy draws her tale to an end with a small smile and fake look of sadness to Sunny, “It was an awful time for him, you have to know. He had just about every memory of her destroyed or hidden. I almost forgot what she looked like until I saw you and it was like seeing her again. I can only imagine how much pain he must have been in seeing you and not being able to have his dear Celeste again.”

Sunny stares forward with a stunned look on her face, unable to even begin to process the story she’s just been told. Her mouth opens to say something but words are not her friend at the moment and nothing comes out. She tries again and only a few come out, “I’m just a replacement.”

Peggy places her hand on top of Sunny’s, “Oh no I wouldn’t say that. You may look like Celeste but you are your own person and I’m sure Bucky loves you for you.”

Sunny rips her hand away and shakes, “He loves me?”

“Well…” Peggy starts but is interrupted by Yelena who’s being chased after by Wyatt. 

“Jesus, does this kid have an off switch?” she jokes as she sits on the edge of the bistro table the other two women are sat at. She looks at Sunny and her smile drops instantly at her appearance. 

“Is everything okay?”

Sunny shakes her head as she snaps out of her trance, “I need to see Bucky, where is he?”

Yelena pushes off of the table, “I think he’s inside, do you want me to take you to him?” “No,” she says abruptly and marches off towards the house. Yelena takes her seat and looks to Peggy for an explanation but she’s no help and has given her whole attention to her son. 

Sunny pushes open the french doors that lead into a living room of sorts but Bucky is nowhere to be found. Faint men’s laughter rings out and she follows it like a bloodhound on a trail all the way to the other side of the massive house. She’s met with a set of large oak doors but behind it are the voices of Steve and Bucky. Debating on knocking, she forgoes the formality and walks straight into the surprise of the two men. 

“Draga,” Bucky sighed when he saw that it’s just her, “How are you?”

“Steve, get out. I need to talk to him, alone.” 

Steve looks to Bucky for guidance and gets up regardless. Bucky gives him a nod of approval and stands as well to meet Sunny. With his hands out, he goes to cradle her arms but she takes a staggering step back just as Steve closes the door. 

“Peggy told me about Celeste,” she whispers with pain etched deeply in her voice and across her face. 

He takes a deep breath as he rubs a hand down his face, “What did she tell you?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” he repeats while he leans against a window seal that overlooks the very garden where it all happened. 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

He takes a moment before answering, “I didn’t want to scare you.”

She scoffs at his excuse, “But telling me that you’re strigoi was fine? This ”crossed the line though?” 

“I can see where I messed up,” he barely offers, voice devoid of anything but just underneath the surface he yearns to hold her and make things better. 

Her own voice isn’t up to par with his and it creaks as she tries to get out any words at all, “I trusted you. I don’t even know how I feel about you but I trusted you. I let Yelena go for you because I thought I could trust you.” 

That catches him off guard and his jaw tenses as his emotions begin to take over. 

“You did what?” 

“Right before I called you, Yelena and I broke things off.” 

His tongue pokes at the inside of his lip and he finally looks at her to see what he’s done to her unintentionally. Her eyes are watery and beginning to puff up from her efforts to hold back her tears. Her body is rigid from the stress of everything she’s been through. He can see the fatigue in her features and in her physical state. Since getting to Bucharest, she’s barely taken care of herself, granted it’s only been a matter of days but the neglect is clear as day. She needs him to be honest with her before the mental toll is too much and he risks losing whatever sliver of a chance he had. 

“Come here,” he calls to her in the softest voice he can manage. He too had been taken over by the severity of their situation. His facial hair has grown out to create a dark shadow across his face and his hair is longer than it’s been in years. He’s foregone any sort of luxury attire and instead lives in t-shirts with jackets and jeans. 

She hesitates for a moment but the calm call of his voice coaxes her closer and she disobeys her internal monologue to listen. With one arm outstretched, he beckons for her to tuck into his side and she doesn’t, staying just outside of his reach. 

“Come here,” he whispers again, leaning to graze his fingers against her arm and to catch her. She takes one small step forward and it’s enough for him to grasp her arm, tugging her the rest of the way. Wrapping her own arms around him, she buries her face into his shoulder and her emotions consume her. 

He lets her use him as a comfort object although he knows she doesn’t truly want him. She would take comfort from anyone or that’s what he tells himself. He whispers reassurance into her ear in Romanian and runs his hand up and down her back as her years come to an end. 

Sunny pulls away enough to look at him. Her hands take a hold of his face and she leans her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she does so. Their breaths mingle together and he allows himself to find comfort in her touch as well. His hands match hers; taking a hold of her face and holding her close enough it’s beyond tempting for him. 

“I’m not her,” she finally says. 

“I know.”

“Say my name.”

The black veins of his true self begin to raise and take over his self control. He snaps his eyes shut and goes to drop his hands  but she catches them in hers. 

“Say my name, Bucky.”

“Sunny,” he says shallowly as if there is no air in his lungs. 

“My name,” she emphasizes as she drops his hands to her neck and repositions hers on his face. 

“Don’t do this to me doll,” he warns as he tries to pull away but she refuses to let him. 

“Bucky, my name.”

The whine in her voice makes his lungs constrict and he feels her lip ghost over his. 

Before she fully pressed down into his, she asks him again to say her name and he complies this time, “Y/N.”

Satisfied with his response, she takes his lips in hers and kisses him. He stiffens in the start but relaxes into her embrace and gives into the kiss, fully allowing himself to enjoy what he’s been dreaming of. Sunny leans into him and his hands catch her waist so they don’t fall from her going practically limp in his arms. Soft sighs and moans leave her mouth as they kiss. Bucky pulls her into him even more and uses her noise of shock to slip his tongue into her mouth. One of her hands leaves his face to catch herself on the window frame as they lean back into their kiss. She pulls away for a moment to get a better look at the man before her and smiles at the sight. The black veins around his eyes have begun to recede while his dark blue eyes remain hidden behind his long lashes and short puffs of air leave his swollen lips. Her fingers drift over the veins and his eyes flutter open at the feeling. 

“Y/N,” he whispers against her fingers as she trails them down his face. 

“Bucky,” she whispers back.

“Y/N.”

Her smile grows softer the more he says her name, not her nickname but her name.

“What did you mean by ‘don’t do this to me’?” she asks as she continues to trace over his features. 

He chuckles while dropping his head so he doesn’t have to look at her when he answers her, “You already know.”

“No I don’t,” she says whilst drawing him up by his chin, “What did you mean?”

“Remember what I told you that night?” he sighs, letting the vulnerability consume him against his better judgment. 

She nods, her finger trailing across his lips and poking at where his fangs disappeared into his gums. 

“I’m weak when you’re around,” he tells her and kisses the tip of her finger. 

“Because of Celeste?”

He shakes his head, “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

“What did you tell her?” Steve harshly demands as he finds Peggy out in the garden with their son. He stalks up to her and nearly shatters the glass of her table when he slams his fists down. 

She doesn’t even flinch, instead offering him a sweet smile, “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, now tell me what you said to Sunny.” 

Peggy shrugs her shoulders and waves to Yelena who is being chased around by Wyatt. 

“You told her about Celeste didn’t you?”

She shrugs again, looking at him from under her lashes, “She was going to find out sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, “That wasn’t for you to tell. Why would you do that?”

“Like I said,” she said, more defensive than before, “She was going to find out sooner or later so I sped up the process.”

“I hope you realize what this means for you.”

“And what exactly does this mean for you?” she hisses, spinning around to face her husband, “You’ll pick your friend over your wife? The mother of your child?”

Steve shakes his head before walking away, neither confirming nor denying her assumption. 

The minute he’s not within sight she pulls out of her phone to text Alix one thing and one thing only; the Bucharest Estate address with specific instructions on how to find Sunny’s and Bucky’s room. 

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[ronearoundblindly]

Fantasy Friday Ask (2)

Continued from this prompt about Steve Rogers dating a succubus.

Warnings for short but sweet smut...uh, twice (and, because it's me, an incredibly unnecessary amount of background story thrown in). All mistakes my own, ugh.

"I said we're taking it slow, Buck, now lay off."

Steve fumes above his locker in the quinjet, yanking off his gloves and throwing them unceremoniously into the bin with the rest of his soiled uniform.

Bucky huffs. "Just telling you what I think. You're the one who said she wasn't looking well. Why do you think that is then?"

"Sex is not the answer to everything," Steve snarls back, ripping at his neckline.

"...but in this case..."

Bucky lets Steve stew over that hint until they've landed and are in the semi-security of walking in the open air between the jet and HQ.

"She's a succubus, right? That's her species?"

Steve nods.

"What do those eat?"

"Food, Buck, she eats food in front of me all the time."

"Okay, I'm gonna spell this out for you, and I want you to use all of that pretty boy brain power to listen. Got it?"

Steve just groans, feeling stupid already.

"Good," Bucky steadies, spinning on his heel to trap Steve outdoors before they'll both be embarrassed by this. "She's a succubus. They feed on men, yeah? And that's the actual reason she goes into dreams, yes? So she's in a relationship with you. A relationship exclusive to you. A relationship where even in your dreams you do not really touch her. So you--the only man in her life--have been starving her. You're basically taking her to the movies only to have her smell the popcorn and listen to the crowd's reactions from outside the theater. Except it sounds like she may die if you don't let her watch the movie and buy her some popcorn."

"I'm not torturing my girlfriend. I'm being a gentleman," Steve grits through clenched teeth and a jaw about to crack.

"Then why is she wasting away before your very eyes?!"

Well, fuck. Bucky might actually have found the one damn situation where sex just might be the fucking answer.

"Jerk." Steve shoves his friend out of the way to get inside.

You try to deny it, but you're just plain weak. Steve can feel it beneath his fingers, in your languid kisses, and eventually, he blurts it out.

"Sweetheart, are you hungry?"

The grey around your eyes is distinct today. Your pupils don't react quickly as you turn toward him and the bright lamp behind him.

"I'm fine." That's a lie. "We don't ever have to do anything until you're ready."

Steve really feels like shit now because he is ready and has been for a while. It's almost odd that he has been able to control his dreams enough to hide how much he does imagine pinning you down and--

"Tell me how to feed you. Tell me what you need."

The harsh painting of rosy flush beneath your sunken eyes saddens him. He's ashamed that you don't feel able to tell him. He's angry he's never asked before.

He thinks this may be easier for him to say if you two aren't strictly eye-to-eye, so Steve moves his mouth to your neck, whispering between kisses, "sex, right?"

Another weak gasp escapes you, body too tired to arch into his.

"Cum."

Steve's grateful that his hips weren't pressed to you because his own body's reaction is immediate and intense.

His breath flutters that much hotter against your skin.

"Where's better? Here or in a dream?"

A whimper this time. "Dream."

"That's my girl," he praises with a final, open-mouthed suckle just below your ear. "Let me give you what you need."

How long it took him to fall asleep, considering how turned on he is by this bizarre situation, Steve isn't sure. That part's all a blur until he recognizes the beach.

Your beach. The one you both walk down. The one he's memorized after months.

There's a notable addition. In the sunset glow, the gossamer curtains of a four-poster bed billow in golden pink. The fabric shifts again, and Steve can see your bare leg.

His body can't move fast enough in the dream. He rushes as best he can, finding you naked and prone, spread for him to ravage. Steve's vaguely aware that he isn't nervous, unlike how he imagined this moment in his waking life. Perhaps the dream removes that pressure. Perhaps his desperation to bury himself inside you until you scream his name supplants his nerves.

Who cares? Not him. Leave that science shit to Bruce.

He automatically pulls the shirt he wears over his head and drops the pants he magically dons down to the white sand below. None of the grit follows him into the bed. It wouldn't matter. Nothing can stop him.

He finds you wet and willing, ready to take him without another moment wasted, and he holds nothing back, his thick arms caging you in, hips snapping brutally while your ankles cross over his ass and cling for him to go, go faster, go harder, go deeper, go, go, go.

"Is this what you needed," Steve pants, his insides clenching with impending climax, and he's not prepared for what you do next.

Your mouth had fallen open, moaning and gasping in time with his thrusts, but you open your eyes, staring into his with your mouth agape in a perfect, beautiful 'O.'

Oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck, he's done for.

Steve hurriedly scrambles up the bed and over your body, gripping the thick wooden headboard while your soft hands take him, guide him into your hot, wet mouth, and pump him until he spills down your waiting and eager throat.

The loud thumps of your swallowing match his thundering heartbeat in his ears. He should be wrung dry, but the rhythm continuing its steady pace reminds him of your breasts bouncing and those glorious noises tumbling from your mouth.

...your mouth...

Steve startles, shooting up in bed only to find himself covered in a thin layer of sweat, stark naked and still hard under a thin sheet for mid-summer.

He looks around, hand jutting out to find you curled up and facing away from him. You seem hurt, tucked so tightly against the far edge, and in comfort, Steve slides a hand down your arm only to see that it leads between your legs.

"Sweetheart," he moans.

Your turn to be startled. They don't usually wake up that quickly; no one's ever wanted more right away. Then again, no man is like Steve Rogers, and you've never stayed in someone's bed after.

Face guilty and blanched, you pull the covers up higher over your shoulder.

"It's fine, Steve. You don't have to see me like this."

He adjusts his heavy body closer under the covers. "But I want to touch you."

"You won't though...not this way."

Steve's confused. "What way is that? You look the same as--"

"No," you snap, "it's not the same in the dreams. I'm...different here."

This is why he took it so slow. You didn't seem comfortable with his hands roaming certain places, so he stayed content with soft kisses and the best company he's ever known.

He takes a while to pry it out of you, but finally, your signature wide headband gets pulled away to reveal tiny horns, your thick-fabric skirt moves to show a thin, smooth tail nearly two feet long, and your high-collar shirt stops hiding the pronounce, sharp edges of your vertebrae.

Again, shock is expected but from him this time. Again, it never comes.

"So what," Steve blurts. "You're not human. You don't have to look human. I already know who you are."

Without thinking, Steve's thumb brushes over the taut skin at the base of your tail. The shaking, needy whine that escapes you brings him back to the original concern.

"Can you...feed in real life? Is this why you told me to go to sleep? So I'd see you--"

"As perfect," you mutter breathily, unable to focus on anything but the light pet of his fingers. "Wanted you to see me as perfect."

His broad hand travels up your back, deliberately raking over each notch of your spine.

"But you are perfect. Waking. Dreaming. I only see you, sweetheart."

Steve slots his hips between your legs, halting your turn, trapping you face-forward on the mattress. His other hand dances over your hip and around to finger you.

You're as wet as in his dream, and he's ready again, to feed you, to fuck you. He'll do anything to come for you again and again.

"Is it only your mouth?" His words are slightly muffled by your hair. He nuzzles at the nearest protruding horn before dropping to kiss your temple.

The frantic shake of your head is encouraging, to put it mildly.

"Anywhere," you gulp, and that swallowing sound has him rutting against your thigh involuntarily. "Anywhere inside."

Fuck, he's a goner. He can't remember another moment in his life he's been more grateful to be alive.

"You'll never go hungry again, sweetheart. Never."

Then he knows he's addicted, consumed by the juxtaposed sensations of your weeping lips around his cock, your soft skin quivering beneath his, the rough graze of a boney horn against his palm as he fists your hair. Yes, he's a fucking goner, a goner who fucks, yours.

He can't go fast enough this way; he's too shallow. He wants the full effect of being awake and as deep as possible inside you, so Steve lowers his hand from your hair to firmly (but gently) pull at your tail.

You're guided onto all fours and rewarded with the drag of his teeth across the sharp notches between your shoulders. It makes you shiver just as he braces a thick, guiding grip on your hip and tail.

"I think my girl deserves a four-course meal, don't you?" His voice is deep, raspy, promising. "Maybe every day if she wants...since I like her--" he thrusts but stalls to pet and grab at the swell of your ass, staring at your joined bodies "--so full."

::insert devious cackle here:: Part 3!

Like what you've read? Always more to find on my Masterlist, and please consider replying and reblogging. It's nice to know I'm not alone in all these thots...

Want to see a different fantastical story? Send me an ask, and I'll do my best!

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[headlesssamurai]

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[oneoftheprettynerds]

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.    

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

~

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do.                                                                                           Sincerely,                                                                      Steve Rogers

                                                                                            ~

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

 When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.  

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

#dark fic #dark mcu #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #mcudarklibrary #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #marvel fic #mob au #mob!steve #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!steve x reader #dark! mob! steve rogers #mafia au #ray writes #just my type #Lipstick and Crayons #Lipstick and Crayons series

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (1/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic!)

word count: 3,172

warnings: a few curse words, bucky being cute, steve being awkward but also a great friend

authors note: hello! this is my first ever post on this account and the first chapter to a new series! im not sure how many chapters this is going to be as i got inspiration to write it a few days ago but im hoping to keep up with it. also, once TFATWS ends, i intend to do a series based on that as well! anywho, i hope you enjoy this and please leave feedback/lmk what i can do to improve! thank u :)

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes laid across from you on your bed, eyes softly glancing over your features as your hand grazed over his cheek and jawline. You chuckled to yourself, “looking a bit scruffy, Buck.”

He hummed, eyes now fluttering closed at your touch, “thought you liked it, doll.”

With a quick kiss to his lips, you nodded, “oh I do, don’t worry – no reason not to, really.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh before he ran a hand over your cheek, “I gotta get goin’ soon, doll. ‘Uniforms at Becca’s.”

With a sigh, you rolled onto your back and stretched, “she’s a saint, you know, washing and steaming your uniform for you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement with you, “that I do know, honeybee. I’ll meet you at Stevie’s, yeah?”

As you got out of your shared bed, you looked back at Bucky, “of course! Gotta see you off before you go put your life on the line, no big deal.” Bucky quickly dropped the conversation immediately after, understanding how you're feeling.

You weren’t mad at Bucky for joining the army – you couldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault. He was drafted and you knew that if he could stay, he would; and you knew you were being slightly immature about him leaving. You just wanted more time with him. So many people you knew had received letters that their loved ones hadn’t come back, that they had died in battle. It wasn’t fair, but when was life perfectly balanced?

By the time you got changed and got yourself cleaned up, Bucky was straightening out his shirt before he turned towards you, eyes hesitant. You walked to him, buttoning up his final buttons before you ran your hands over his shirt, “I’ll see you soon, Buck, okay?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, “I know, honeybee. Try to keep Steve out of trouble for the time being, okay?”

You laughed, “I’ll certainly try my best – now get outta here!” With a smack to his ass, Bucky gave you one last kiss before he headed out the door to see his sister, Rebecca. You had asked her to iron Bucky’s uniform before he got sent off to war, wanting him to look his best – but you were sure he would look handsome in anything.

Looking in the mirror, you straightened out your favorite belted Peter Pan collar dress, fit with a pair of white heels; only the best for your Buck. You had begged him multiple times to let you register to become a nurse, in the slight chance of being close to him, but he always responded with the same answer: “I want to make sure I have someone to come home to, doll.”

You’d never tell him, but your heart warmed every time he said that.

Doing one more look-over, you smiled to yourself, grabbing your purse as you headed out the door. Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks away from your own, and honestly, you wanted to spend more time with him before Bucky left. The two were inseparable, and you knew Steve was going to struggle with Bucky being gone – that, and the unknowing if he’ll come back.

With sharp and prideful steps, you made your way across the street, saying hello to familiar faces and grabbing a newspaper from Grover, a vendor along the streets of Brooklyn. He stopped you before you headed off, “heard your boy’s goin’ off to war, y/n. How ya doin’?”

With a soft chuckle, you glanced down at the newspapers in your hands – one for you, Steve, and Bucky while he was on the train. You looked back at Grover, “I could be better, if I’m being honest. But I know he’s doing a good thing, so my silly feelings shouldn’t hold him back, Grove.”

Grover grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “you and your selflessness, just like ya ma. I’m telling yous, y/n, that boy loves you to the moon and back. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for ya; if you asked him to stay, he’d go and fake his death to make sure you two go runnin’ off into the sunset together.”

With a laugh, you pushed the tears back, “and I love him too, Grove – but I can’t ask him to just not go. That just isn’t how it is, you know?”

Grover nodded, “yeah, kid, I know. . .Now get lost, I got customers to deliver these too.”

You glanced down at the stack of newspapers, “I’m headed over to Steve’s, anyone near his you gotta drop them off to?”

The vendor let out a hum and rested his head in his palm, “hmm, I think just Richie and Betty Davis right next to Rogers’ place. They get two, you good carryin’ an extra bundle?”

You gave Grover a look as he held up his hands, “just as fierce as ya mama, too – and being Barnes’ girl, probably the wrong question to ask.”

With a laugh, you held out your stack of papers, “pile them on, Gro. I’ll see you later, alright?” The vendor nodded and shoo’ed you away as you continued your journey to Steve’s apartment. Once you arrived, you left two newspapers on his neighbor’s doorstep, knocking once as you crossed back over to Steve’s.

As the Davis’ door opened, you knocked on Steve’s, already hearing rustling inside. Betty was at her door, “y/n? That you, sweetheart?”

With a turn, you greeted Mrs. Davis with a smile, “hi Mrs. Davis, how are you? How are the kids?”

The woman smiled back, “’mm, they’re good – always askin’ when the next batch of those delicious brownies are coming!”

You laughed and noticed Steve had opened the door, small statute waiting until you were done talking with Betty, “I’ll drop them by the next time I get to bakin’, Mrs. Davis. I’ll see you!” You waved to her, as did Steve, as he stepped aside to let you in.

Steve looked at the newspapers, then back at you, “you look great, y/n. . . Looks like I’ll be tellin’ Buck to shut his mouth when he sees you.”

You chuckled, “’cus he’ll catch flies or the obscenities he’ll be sayin’?”

Steve let out a laugh, “both, definitely both.”

Now that you both were in the safehouse of his apartment, you finally got a good look at your little army-hopper. He spotted a new black eye and a small cut on his cheek, yet he still looked as if he could go again if he wanted to. You nodded towards him, “where’d you get into a scuffle at this time?”

He shifted his feet until he let out a sigh, “behind a theatre. They were showin’ commercials for the army and some guy just started saying stuff.”

With a bite of your cheek, you sat down on one of his chairs, “so you had to fight him?”

“Just gotta be one of the good guys in the neighborhood, y/n.”

“I know, Stevie.”

An hour had passed and, in the meantime, you and Steve enjoyed some tea and tried to complete your own crossword puzzles. A small conversation had taken place between the two of you, talking about plans once Bucky was off fighting the war. You had talked about Steve moving in with you, but he was always so stubborn, wanting to prove that he could live on his own. You never thought that he couldn’t, but it could be a money saver.

One more glance at the clock, you figured it would be almost time for Bucky to show up. And, just like that, a knock was heard from the door and you smiled, getting up to answer it as Steve stayed back, grumbling at the pieces of paper in his hands. Opening the door, you saw your James Buchanan Barnes standing tall and proud in his new uniform.

Bucky whistled, glancing over your outfit as you did the same to him, “you look gorgeous, honeybee – even though I told you to not dress up.”

He stepped inside the apartment as you crossed your arms, “I mean, Steve agrees that this is kind of a big deal, so I think a nice dress will suffice.”

Steve and Bucky clasped hands and Bucky nudged his shoulder, “thought you were supposed to be a good influence on my girl, Steve.”

The smaller man shrugged, “kind of is a big deal.”

Bucky shuffled his feet, “yeah, well, I don’t want it to be. Let’s just go to the future and then see me off, alright?” The three of you stood in silence, light tension hanging in the air. With a sigh, you grabbed your purse, “well, off we go! C’mon now, boys.”

Bucky, you, and Steve headed to New York World’s Fair, hooked arms leading towards Howard Stark’s Expo. With bright lights, fireworks, and amazing technology surrounding you, your eyes failed to see Bucky staring at you with so much adoration. He never wanted to leave you – he’d stay if he could – but he had been drafted. All he wanted to do was stay in Brooklyn with you and Steve, and just never leave your arms. Hell, really, wherever you went, he went.

But that wasn’t the case in this scenario.

With a hand on your waist, Bucky looked up at Stark’s presentation of his repulsor technology with a flying car, head shaking in disbelief. While his car may have only hovered for a few seconds, the idea of not even needing to touch the ground to drive absolutely boggled your mind. During the presentation, Steve glanced up at you two and silently snuck off, hoping you didn’t notice his absence for too long. But he knew you and how observant and protective you were.

However, once you glanced around after a few minutes and found Steve in front of an army poster within the United States Armed Services Recruitment center. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you slightly pulled him towards where Steve was, trying his best to fit his head within the frame.

With a slight push of his shoulder, Bucky nodded his head towards the Expo, “come on, we’re goin’ dancing – and hopefully find yourself a girl.”

Steve shook his head, “you – uh – you go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He looked around, trying to divert the conversation between him and his best friend.

“Steve,” you started, “please? Just this one night?”

Bucky held your hand as he looked back at Steve, “you’re really gonna do this again?”

“I just – guys, it’s a fair, I’ll try my luck,” he started, looking between you both.

Beside you, you felt Bucky grow agitated, “that’s who, Steve from Ohio?”

“Bucky,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, “let him try one more, okay? We can go dancing and Steve will catch up later. If he doesn’t, I’ll hang his head on my wall like a prize.”

The boys let out a chuckle as Steve continued, “one last time, alright? I promise I’ll come later on – Mac’s, right?”

You nodded your head as Bucky sighed beside you, “don’t think you got to prove anything, Steve.” A small pause came over the three of you as Bucky continued, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

You started to walk back with Bucky, letting go of his hand as he continued his conversation with Steve as he let out a small laugh, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You held up a finger at Steve, “you better mean that about himself, Rogers.”

Steve held up his hands, “yes ma’am! And Bucky –“

Bucky turned around once more to his best friend, “don’t win the war until I get there.” With a mock salute, Bucky dragged you back towards the Expo as you waved back at Steve, making sure he’d meet you at the bar before your boyfriend was shipped off.

With a sigh, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he kissed your head, “that punk is gonna get himself in all loads of trouble, honeybee.”

You held his hand that was around your shoulder, “I’ll keep Stevie in his place. Seriously, Buck, try not to worry about him.”

“I just,” Bucky gripped your hand, “I don’t wanna come back to nothing, you know? Steve’s my best friend and if he somehow gets himself killed here or in the war, I don’t know what I’d do.”

You pulled Bucky to a stop, putting your hands on his cheeks, “James, look at me, please.” With soft eyes, Bucky looked into yours, “I promise you, Steve is going to be okay – he won’t do anything stupid, at least without me. We’re going to be okay, and you will, too. . .’cus if you aren’t, I may go and kill Hitler myself.”

Bucky chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”

You leaned up, kissing Bucky softly before pulling back, hands tight on your waist, “I love you too. Now C’mon, I wanna go to Mac’s and celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Bucky groaned and pulled you even closer, “maybe I should tell Steve to keep an eye on you.”

With a mock salute of your own, you giggled at your boyfriend, “aye, sir, my new mission is to protect Steven Grant Rogers from being an idiot!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, “toughest job in this whole war, honeybee.”

As the night continued on, Steve actually showed up to Mac’s and had a new look in his eyes.

‘Hmm,’ you thought to yourself, ‘looks like I gotta ask him about something later.’

Steve, you, and Bucky didn’t drink, but instead enjoyed each other’s company before Buck was shipped off; this really only included Bucky and Steve making fun of each other and you keeping the boys in line. Laughs and a few smacks on the head filled the atmosphere, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

By the time it was nearing close to Bucky’s train departure, the three of you took to the streets and headed to the train station, silence enveloping you. Bucky’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as you dreaded this goodbye, even if you had high hopes he’d return to you and Steve.

At the sight of the train and fellow troops heading into their cabins, Bucky turned to Steve, “you take care of yourself, alright punk? I don’t want any letters from my girl telling me that you’ve been actin’ out.”

Steve shoved his shoulder, “you’re acting like I’m 12 years old again. I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, but looked to his best friend, “and Steve?”

Steve held his breath but let go, “yeah, Bucky?”

“Please take care of her.”

Steve glanced back at where you stood, picking your nails as your anxiety was pricking at your skin. He nodded, “I will.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief, “thank you, pal. I love her, so make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either, okay?” Steve nodded in response.

Bucky then headed over to where you were standing, his eyes raking over your beautiful dress, your heels, and most importantly, your face. He did not want to forget a single thing about you or your features – he wanted them committed to memory. With a gentle hand, Bucky tilted your chin up towards him, “you alright, honeybee?”

You nodded, too afraid to use your voice as tears flooded your eyes. Trying to dry them up anyway, you nodded once more, unable to look at Bucky. He sighed, “c’mere, sweet girl, I got you.”

With no hesitation, you fell into Bucky’s arms, tears threatening to fall as you felt his hands rest upon your back and your head. You sniffled, “I’m going – I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie – so, so much.”

Bucky kissed your head, “I’m gonna miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think that I won’t for a second. You’ll be the first thing on my mind every second of the day.”

You breathed, “can living through this war be the first thing on your mind? And maybe completing a crossword puzzle?"

Bucky let out a small laugh but held you tighter, “just for you, honeybee.” Pulling back, he wiped away stray tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, a soft smile on his face. “You’re gonna be alright, and I’ll be comin’ home to you in no time.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free from your eyes as you looked up at Bucky, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks and light stubble. You slowly traced over his lips, his nose, and his eyebrows, committing everything about him to memory. With a small smile, you leaned up, catching him in a kiss once more, “stay safe, you hear me? And take this damn thing with you - maybe you'll complete it." With gentle hands, you handed him the newspaper you had gotten today.

He carefully took the newspaper from you, already hoping the crossword puzzle would be easy this time around. Then, Bucky pecked your lips before he headed towards the train, “gotta come back for my best girl. I love you!”

As he stepped onto the train and hung out the window of a cabin, he continued yelling, “I love you, y/n l/n! I love you!”

You cried, a bright smile on his face, “I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes!” Blowing kisses towards him, both you and Steve watched as the train slowly started to pull away, seeing him mindlessly hand his ticket to the worker, not bothering to tear his eyes away from you or his best friend.

“I love you!” he shouted once more, all before his train sped up, leaving you and Steve behind on the platform.

Wiping your eyes and your nose with a cloth, you cleared your throat and turned to Steve, “gah, sorry. Let’s uhm – do you want to head back to my place?”

Steve nodded towards you, “yeah, yeah that sounds good. You alright?” He hooked your arm with his as you headed out of the station, continuing to wipe your eyes. “Yeah,” you started, “I’m okay. I knew this was coming. . . I guess I just hated the whole ‘saying goodbye,’ you know?”

Your best friend rubbed the back of his neck, “I get it, y/n, but he’ll come back – he has a reason to, and that’s you.”

Your heart fluttered, and tears welled up in your eyes once more. With a quick sniffle, you reached into your purse and grabbed your key, unlocking your door to your apartment. Once inside, you quickly got to making tea for you and Steve, something to get your minds off of your missing puzzle piece.

Once tea was made and you both were sitting in your living room, you turned to him, “tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looked at you, a confused look etched upon his face, “tell you what?”

You leaned back into your chair, picking at your nails once more, “what happened at the recruitment office? I’ve known you long enough to see that there’s something you’re not telling me, there’s something in your eyes, Stevie, so please, just tell me.”

Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. But, I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #steve rogers/you #platonic #platonic steve rogers #captain america the first avenger #captain america #cap #tfatws #the winter soldier #the avengers #avengers x reader #the avengers x reader #the avengers/reader #avengers/you #catfa x reader #catfa #james buchanan barnes #steven grant rogers #x reader insert #x reader #bucky barnes imagine #/reader #x reader series #army

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

#stucky #my fic #my edits #never let us lose what we have gained #fluff #steve rogers #bucky barnes #classic movies #domestic fluff #i needed to remove all the endgame angst #fanfiction forever #this one was supposed to be a piece of cake but it wasnt #i needed to post it already for the shake of my sanity #long post #hopefully this will work now #stupids in love #steve and bucky #i fought with this silly thing like you wouldnt believe #painfully created by me #fic by yours truly #pics by yours truly #edit by yours truly #manip by yours truly

[barb-aricyawp]

Pierce has a locket or smth like that with a lock of dark hair in it. And Steve sees it and's like 'aw that's his wife, that's cute'

But it's actually a trophy

ANON, I gasped. This is so great.

I ended up making a new AU for this one. This is a no powers modern au.

trigger warnings: captivity

"Rogers, can I level with you?"

Pierce has been refilling Steve's glass with top shelf whisky all night. He's feeling overly warm and convivial. "Please do."

"It's been six months. You can't let this rule your life anymore."

Steve inhales sharply through his teeth. Exhales again. "Bucky is still out there. Alive. I know it. We just have to find him--"

Something thuds in Pierce's basement. Loud enough that it shakes the floorboards beneath Steve's feet.

"What was--" Steve looks down, but then Pierce's hand is on his knee.

"Just the cat," Pierce explains. "I'm glad you still have hope. You should never lose that. But, son, I can tell this is consuming you."

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. "I haven't been sleeping," he admits. "Every time I close my eyes, I see his missing posters."

"A sure sign you're spending too much time with those posters," Pierce says with a sage nod. Maybe he's right. Between posting flyers and haranguing the detectives on Bucky's missing person case, Steve hasn't had time for much else.

"I just--" The alcohol is making Steve emotional. His eyes are streaming and he has to take a moment to breathe. "I never told him--Never told him I--"

Another thud from the basement, this time it rattles the knick-knacks on Pierce's coffee table and the whisky in Steve's glass.

Pierce's jaw twitches. "I should look into that. Excuse me."

He abruptly sets down his own glass, shoving over a small wooden box on his coffee table in his haste to get downstairs. He leaves without picking it up, so Steve plays the good guest and tidies it for him.

It's a wooden box carved with deer and bucks. The contents of the box have been upturned and Steve puts them back inside. There's a scrap of cotton fabric, a movie ticket stub, and--Steve pauses. A lock of hair, knotted in the middle.

It's the exact same shade and texture as Bucky's curls. Steve has been able to keep his welling tears at bay, but now finds himself unable to stop.

"Sorry, about that, my cat--" Pierce pauses when he sees Steve, crying over an open box. "What's this?"

"You knocked it over." Steve straightens. He wipes his face dry, and puts on a good face. "I was just putting this away, and--"

It's too hard to explain. He just extends his palm to show Pierce the lock of hair curled in his palm.

"Ah," Pierce says. He takes it from Steve, brushing the ends against his lips in a kiss. "My wife's, before she died."

A fresh wave of tears breaks over Steve. He has to turn his head to hide from Pierce. Doesn't want his employer to see him like this, especially when he's been so kind as to let him into his house.

"I should go," he says. "Thank you for having me over. I'll--I'll consider what you've said."

Once Pierce has seen him out and the door is closed behind him, Steve thinks he hears a muffled cry from inside the house. But he's sure it's just his imagination; the cry sounded just like Bucky.

#torture tuesday #whump bucky barnes #abduction #captivity tw #modern au #no powers au #I'd do more of this if y'all wanted #but this honestly took so long to write I just decided to post what I have so far lol #basement bucky

[marvel-movies-bucky-barnes]

Moving Forward

Summary: You are Tony’s sister and in love with Bucky, but Tony still doesn’t trust Bucky post-Winter Soldier

Pairing: Bucky x Laela (reader)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Thor Odinson, Wanda Maximoff,

Warnings: Fluff, some kissing, light spoilers up until Captain America: Civil War, angst, self-doubts, mentions of brainwashing, comforting

Word count: 3,346

Author’s note: This is really my first fic I’ve ever written and posted. Please be kind and enjoy! I am in the process of going through the Marvel movies chronologically for the first time, so I HAVE NOT FINISHED THE MOVIES YET! Please don’t comment spoilers past Spiderman: Homecoming in Marvel’s chronology! I appreciate reposts and comments!

Requests: OPEN

*NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER*

You would think that a man who had nothing left to lose would be ready to throw himself to the fire. You would think that a simple retrieval mission would be as routine as putting on your shoes before you walk out the door. You would think that spending ten years living under the protection of a hotheaded brother with an egocentric mind would warrant the basic privilege of a release from the iron-fisted grip on your whereabouts.  

According to Natasha, all this thinking is what gets me into trouble with Tony in the first place.

“I don’t understand.” Grabbing Tony’s arm, halfway lifted to the coffee mug balancing precariously on the edge of the counter, I spun him toward me. I knew full well that he could have dug his feet in his tracks if he had wanted to, yet he yielded. “Why will you take me and not him?”

“You know why. And if you weren’t so naïve, maybe you would wake up from this daydream you’re living in and realize that I’m right.” A shadow must have crossed my face—one all too familiar to the team who was lounging against pristine furniture a room over, feigning ignorance to our conversation. As I glanced over my shoulder, a dozen pairs of eyes darted around, immediately finding innate fascination in the stitching of the carpet and the chandelier gently swinging above the banister.  

“Laela—,” Avoiding eye contact, he slid his fingers into the iron hand of his suit, hissing when the cold metal bit into his skin. As if he hadn’t worn it enough times to have the basic instinct of turning on the heater first. Cool granite hit my skin as I hoisted myself up onto the counter. The silence was deafening, or maybe it was the blood roaring through my ears—hot-headed, the only way the Stark family knows—until he finally dropped his head in defeat. “One.”

One pin drop could be heard; one collective breath was held by the rest of the team; one last nerve of his that I was getting on? The possibilities were endless. Biting my tongue, I waited as patiently as could be expected as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he pinched the bridge of his nose.  

“One mission,” he relented, swearing lightly as if he were battling against conscious. “You have one hour to get him ready. Starting now.”

I saw those dozen pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of Tony’s head, mouths hung open like fish out of water. When I glanced past Tony and made eye contact with Steve, his eyebrows shot to his hairline and he motioned me quickly toward the door before Tony could change his mind.  

“One hour!” Tony hollered after me as I backpedaled out of the room, tripping over the leg of Thor’s chair on the way.  

My feet had a mind of their own as they carried me up two flights of stairs and three different hallways before I knocked gently on the heavy oak door next to my own. I had originally picked my room at the far end of the mansion for the view of the coast, the endless stretch of ocean providing a comforting hum of white noise while I slept.  

I like to think Bucky had picked his for the sounds of the ocean as well, though I imagine the rush of the waves works to calm more than his insomnia.

When he didn’t answer, I let myself in. I was shocked, in the beginning, at the stark contrast between his room and the other bedrooms in the house. The walls—completely bare save for the navy paint coating—were shockingly distinct from my own, which were covered in photos and haphazardly hung posters. Walking into his room now, I see how calming the blankness of the walls can be for Bucky, especially if it mirrors what he’d like to feel inside his own mind. A clean slate in his room; peaceful, blank walls. Stillness. The hope that these can be replicated onto himself.  

I can’t help but think back to one of the first nights we shared in this room.  

I had woken up in the middle of the night to a cold bed. Frantically grabbing at the sheets for the familiar touch of a warm hand or even the cold bite of the metal on his arm was futile, and I shot up ramrod straight in our bed to see him leaning against the railing of the balcony, fingers digging into the wood and unclenching, repeatedly.  

It was a sight I had come to be familiar with.  

As it was happening in this moment, I had done nothing more than walk over to him and lean my elbows against the railing and watch the waves, knowing that this was something that I couldn’t fix—something that he hadn’t wanted me to fix. I had made it clear that there was nothing in him that needed to be fixed, but I gave him the space to work through the storm clouds surrounding his head.  

That was all the other needed at times, I believe; someone there to ground us as we battled against our own demons clawing at our heads.  

Tonight, Bucky’s elbows leaned into the railing, the metal biting into the splintering wood. He didn’t seem to notice. His shoulders eased a fraction of an inch as he heard me approach, something that had taken him months to be able to do around anyone.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“HYDRA. Winter Soldier Operative.” A short, clipped response. Unspoken words hung heavy in the balance; thoughts I knew he wouldn’t breach right now. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence—it never was with me and him. Though a hundred questions came bubbling to the surface, I held back. Sparing him a sidelong glance, he shook his head lightly.  

He didn’t want to talk about it. And that was all right.

“I was thinking,” I mused, reaching over to take Bucky’s arm in my hand and tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t it be nice to get away? Somewhere the Winter Soldier won’t follow?”

It was naïve thinking, I realized almost immediately. Just as Tony had said (not that I would ever admit to this truth). Naïve to believe that we could escape the mission, if only for a few moments; naïve to believe that Bucky could take himself out of world he had formed through escapism.

“I can’t change the past, doll.” He focused on one point across the ocean while I centered on the dips and divots of the vibranium.  

“No one’s asking you to. But you don’t need to let it define you.” Reaching up, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. It had been blowing in his face for God knows how long; I knew he wouldn’t have bothered to fix it himself any time soon.  

“The Winter Soldier is in the past. HYDRA can’t get to you anymore. This Bucky,” tapping my finger against his heart, I looked up at him, “this James—he’s the man I fell in love with.”

His withering stare finally softened as his shoulders relaxed all the way. Something clicked in him when he heard James—something he only hears from me.

“You’re here because Tony finally released his grip on you, is that it?” he quipped, softening his words by pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I could hear Tony yelling from downstairs, so I had asked JARVIS for the mission update before you came up.”  

“You don’t have to go. You know that; no one would hold it against you.” As he opened his mouth to protest (most likely about how Tony would hold it against him if he had so much as buttered his toast wrong), I gently cut him off with a squeeze of his hand. “I do think it might help get things back on track with Tony, though, Buck.”

“He still doesn’t trust me.” Bucky’s eyes hardened, turning back toward the ocean.

“Prove him wrong.”  

His silence held more than he knew, and he seemed to realize this as he gave a brisk nod and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek before turning to change into his gear.  

_______________________________________________________________________

On the plane, as luck would have it, I had scored the seat between Bucky and Tony, Bucky being across the aisle from Steve, Bruce and Sam as well. He kept up quiet, polite conversation with Bruce and Sam on the way, his hand resting on my knee and his voice soft. While he was distracted, I took the opportunity to nudge Tony in the right direction.

“Talk to him,” I encouraged, pressing on when Tony narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about him.”

At his bark of indignation, I cut him a look sharp as glass.  

“You have misjudged him since the moment you met him,” I snapped, fingers curling into a fist. “We are a team. You want me, you get him, too. That’s how this works.”  

Though I had pitched my voice low to avoid the others overhearing, Tony stiffened, and I could sense Wanda attempting to shift the energy of the plane as the rest of the team began stumbling over their words to affect cluelessness about the situation. Five metal fingers tightened lightly over my knee and I laid my hand atop his without breaking eye contact with Tony.  

“Bucky didn’t kill our parents.” A sharp intake—whether from Bucky or from Wanda, I couldn’t be sure—sounded throughout the aircraft. “The Winter Soldier did. HYDRA did. Since coming back, Bucky’s done nothing but try to beg for your forgiveness, your understanding, and you’ve been a brick wall—to him, to Steve, to me. And deep down, I think you’re just scared to admit that you could have been wrong about something.”

My breathing rattled in my lungs.

The metal of Bucky’s fingers clicked together as they pressed into my knee.

A quiet rustle of Thor’s cloak and Natasha spinning a dagger between gloved fingers.

The soft tap of Steve’s shield against the seat of the plane.

One

Two

Three beats of  

A b s o l u t e l y   n o t h i n g.

As I turned back toward Bucky, his metal fingers tapping lightly into the fabric of my jeans, one-two-three, one-two—a grounding tactic he told me he once used at HYDRA’s base—I shook my head, willing to accept that there was nothing I could do for Tony to put his ego aside and take in what I was saying when—

“You’re right.” Tony let out a breath I knew he had probably been holding around Bucky since the Winter Soldier operative. Low enough for only me and Bucky to hear—though he directed his words at me—two words I never thought Bucky would hear from him (whether indirectly or not) fell past his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“James is—Bucky’s —not the Winter Soldier. He’s not the man you’ve painted him out to be. I love him for who he is, not what he has or hasn’t done. He’s done more for this team and for me than you care to notice. Maybe if you’d put your enormous ego aside and have a conversation with him, you would see that.”

Tony’s eyes darted between mine for five—six—seven beats, his lips pressed into a fine line. Five metal fingers continued tapping a pattern onto my thigh. One breath.

“I know you love him.”  

A dozen pairs of eyes bore through Tony with a steel gaze, unabashedly pinning him in place with a single look.  

“Let’s see what he’s got.”

_______________________________________________________________________

I’d normally call a successful mission any time our team made it out alive, though I knew Tony didn’t see it the same way. Today was different—while half the team victory was winning the battle against a terrorist organization set to infiltrate the city, I would say that Bucky and I found our own victory in our small interaction with Tony on the plane.

“I’ve been thinking, Laela,” Bucky murmured from where we lazed across the chair on the veranda. I waited for him to continue and looked up at him, but his gaze wasn’t on me—it was trained on the ocean once more. I knew he was sifting through his thoughts, tangled in a knot from the last twenty-four hours—likely from before then, even. “I’ve been thinking about 1942.”

“The war?” I twisted a strand of his hair that had fallen into his eyes, not wanting to press too much on a sensitive subject. Tucking the strand behind his ear, I met his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Laying my head back down on his chest, I counted five heartbeats before he finally let out a breath.

“Yes. But not now.” His plated fingers brushed against my knee. His fingers tapped a rhythm against my knee—one-two-three, one-two. Grounding himself in reality. “I remember everything detail. About the war, about the HYDRA operative. Going under. Every moment.”

I knew as much, though he rarely talked about it openly like this.  

“Tony stopped me when we came home from the mission.” The tension in his arms wrapped around me vanished on that word—home. “After you had gone up to bed, and I told you I would meet you up there. We started talking—one of the first real conversations I think we’ve ever had. He asked me—”

I waited for him to finish, knowing that whatever he had to say must have been as difficult then as it was now.  

“He asked me about HYDRA. About the Winter Soldier.” As my body tried to jerk toward his, he gently pushed my shoulders back to lay against his chest. “It’s fine. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t press—shocking as that is.”  

“Did he ask about anything else?”

“He asked about you,” he admitted. At my baffled expression, he snorted and added, “Relax. He didn’t threaten to murder me and hide my body, if that’s what you’re wondering. He asked about what you said on the plane.”

Racking my brain, I remembered how heated I was toward Tony in the moment.  

“You hadn’t told him that before, had you? That you loved me.”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a question. A statement, really. Still, I felt a flush creep up my neck as I tried to find a point on the horizon to focus on. Bucky knew that I loved him but didn’t always understand why. I hadn’t heard the same from him, and it was fine—honestly.  

I would break off pieces of my own soul to give him, bit by bit, if it would give him some peace, just to let him know how loved he is.  

“Have I ever told you the first memory I have of you? At the HYDRA base, when you and Steve had come to break me out?” Without waiting for an answer, a shaky laugh fell past his lips as he lifted his hand from my shoulder to comb his hair back.  

“You had barreled through the door, right on Steve’s heels. HYDRA had been poking around in my brain, and I didn’t have control of what I was doing. But I was aware of what was going on around me.” His eyes met mine then, and my breath caught in my throat. “Tony was screaming from the sidelines for you to get the hell out of there when those HYDRA agents were about to storm the base. But you grabbed my hand and insisted that you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

His eyes glazed over, shifting his reality to that moment. My fingers tightened against his hands, both flesh and vibranium, letting him know that I wouldn’t leave him behind in this moment, either. Showing what I couldn’t put into words.  

“I hadn’t done anything to prove to you that I could be trusted, and you were willing to lay your life on the line for me. You were the first one to speak to me after returning to the house. Other than Steve, you were the first one to make any effort to get to know me—the real me. James, not Bucky or The Winter Soldier.” His lips curved up in a genuine smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and scrunched his nose and brought a pinch of color to his cheeks. Something that he didn’t show a lot. “You were the first one to call me out on my shit. Everyone else was too scared to even approach me.”  

The room was silent now, but a comforting silence, one that wrapped itself around us as we gazed out toward the ocean.

“I know I have a lot to make up for. Not just to Tony and the team, but to you.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he silenced me by pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of love before I met you. The team—I've noticed most of them coming around, too. The other week, Clint was going on a supply run, and he asked me to come with him. I don’t think he had spoken to me more than a handful of times before that.”

“That was all you, Buck. The others are finally starting to see who you are in here,” I brought his vibranium hand in mine to tap against his heart. “Something they should have begun to do a long time ago.”

He settled into the chair on the veranda and pulled me tighter against his chest, his hair brushing against my cheek. I didn’t push it away. We sat like that, wound together in a comfortable silence, until the ocean breeze started to send a chill up my arm.  

“It’s nice,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Feeling like I’m starting to belong somewhere. Like I have something to live for. Everyone from my past live, back in 1942—they're gone. Aside from Steve. I felt lost, for such a long time. Now it feels like the pieces are starting to fit together again—like I have people who love me in this life. Like I have a family.”

“You do have a family. We will always be there for you, whether you see it or not. And, though they may not say it, they love you. Almost as much as I do.” Laying my hand against his cheek, I gently turned his face to look at me, to recognize my words. I tapped against his heart—one-two-three, one-two. Grounding ourselves.  “I love you, James. For what’s in here. I always will.”

I take it he hadn’t heard those words enough; his eyes lit up, brighter than I had ever seen, and a soft smile slowly spread across his lips.  

“I love you, Laela.”

I’m not sure how long we laid in that chair, watching the tide crash against the rocks, my fingers tracing the grooves of his hand. All I remember is two arms, one flesh, one metal, hook under my legs and back and walk us back to the bed. I remember those same arms encircling me just moments later. I remember Bucky’s breathing slowing to a gentle brush against my neck as his snores softly echoed throughout the room.

I remember waking up before him the next morning and studying every line of his face, every divot of his vibranium arm, taking in every snore that escaped past his lips. I remember feeling love—his for me, and mine for him—all-encompassing in the quiet moments we had shared together.

Looking at him, finally comfortable in his own skin, relaxed in a way I knew he had never felt before, I knew I wouldn’t trade this for the world.

#bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barns imagines #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barns x yn #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barns fluff #reader insert #yn #bucky deserves better #bucky deserves the world #bucky protection squad #bucky defense squad #bucky defense #bucky drabble #bucky and reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes is warning

[themonkeycabal]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier ep 2

Spoilers!

Last week Bucky was a terrible patient and his new BFF is the father of a guy he killed while he was the Winter Soldier (so super healthy), Sam gave up Cap's shield and returned home to try to help salvage the family business (that went poorly), and some — I guess he must be from the Defense Department — dick made a big speech about needing heroes and he gave the shield to some goober (John Walker, but he'll always be Goober to me) in a Cap suit who strongly reminded me of Langly from the Lone Gunmen. (I'm not familiar with the actor, so I don't know what he actually looks like, but the helmet and the camera angle did him no favors at all, I'm just saying. Super punchable.)

Oh, and Sam has an adorable little minion named Lt. Torres who is getting himself into trouble with some weirdass terrorist group who like to slap red handprints on everything.

Zemo's out there lurking, too, but we haven't seen him yet.

I'm still slightly dazed that this show is real and we get to watch it.

Ep2: The Star-Spangled Man

Weird slow-mo opening shot of a close up of somebody unzipping their jacket. I mean. Okay. (Ohhh, it's the garment bag the Cap suit is in.)

And then we're on to Goober, he's wearing BDUs and he's in a football locker room (maybe high school?), fondling the lockers. He peels a name sticker off one, and underneath it says JW 10. A woman comes in and asks if he's reliving his glory days. They yada yada I don't care.

Now I guess they're talking about him becoming Captain America. "Everybody in the world expects me to be … something. And I don't want to fail them." She tells him to be himself and that they're gonna love him. Well, I've already decided he's a goober. I mean, he might not be, but he's got a hill to climb with me.

He spends a few seconds trying out his Captain America voice, then his buddy Hoskins comes in to talk him through it and give us some exposition. "Two weeks ago we were prepping for a special ops mission to Chile and now this."

Goober whines about how it's been handshakes and meetings and senators and whatnot and he just wants to get to it. But his buddy is all, that's part of the job man. Gotta glad-hand, too. You big baby (he doesn't say that part).

"You can't just punch your way out of problems anymore." Well, I mean, I think that was Steve's MO, mostly. That and 'hit it with the shield until it stops moving'.

Nu Cap is making a big showy thing at a rally at his old high school (Custer's Grove HS, GA) stadium for Good Morning America. He's still looking punchable in that helmet. But, they do bring out a kicking marching band, so there's that. It's a boring GMA interview. I don't care.

"John Walker, first person in American history to receive three Medals of Honor. Ran RS-One missions in counter-terrorism and hostage rescue. The government did a study of your body at MIT and you tested off the charts in every measurable category — speed, endurance, intelligence." (I legit laughed out loud. Lookit Captain Gary Stu over here)

Blah blah super humble yada yada. Just wants to make people feel safe, he has sooooo much respect for Steve Rogers, yada. Look, he could be a great guy and maybe I'll warm to him. But not yet!

Back in Brooklyn, Bucky's watching this and his face is all "No! No? What the shit is this? NO! NO? WHU NO?! No." Also, Bucky, I know you have a couch, why are you sitting on the floor? Love yourself just a little bit, dude.

In Louisiana Sam is in an Air Force hanger, staring at a garish 'Cap is Back' poster and looking a little queasy. Rhodey told you, subtly and not really directly, to not give up the shield, buddy. I hope when Bucky gets there the first thing he says is "He gave the shield to *you*, dummy. Not Captain Gary Poppins over there."

Torres says Nu Cap seems like a good guy. Sam's like, uh-huh, sure, so anyway. There's another "cap is back" poster and Sam's like 'ugh'. And they're off to Munich. I guess for the Flag Bros. Hey! There's Bucky! Finally, they're in the same scene. It's been nearly sixty minutes of screen time to get to this moment, Marvel. No, I wasn't counting.

"Shouldn't have given up the shield." lol. Hi Bucky! You forgot to call him a dummy.

Sam's like I haven't got time for this. And Bucky points to the umpteenth Cap is Back poster (seriously? Good lord.) "You didn't know that was going to happen?"

  Sam did not know that was going to happen. "You think it didn't break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?"

Bucky will not let this go. "You had no right to give up the shield, Sam." You tell him!

But, Sam's kind of not in the mood. Look, I get it Sam, you didn't feel equal to the shield, but Steve gave it to you because he knows, my dude. Trust him. Come on.

But, he's feeling very raw about this, right now. "This is what you're not gonna do. You're not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights." Well, ouch. 

He says he's got bigger things to worry about, but that seems unpossible to Bucky "What could be bigger than this?" Terrorist douchebags wearing funny masks in Eastern and Central Europe. Well, fine, Sam; be all puts-things-in-perspective guy.

Redwing traced the far-too-strong maybe leader to a place in Munich. For some reason Bucky does not have good feelings about Redwing. Uh-oh, Bucky, you're going to extra hurt Sam's feelings.

Oh lol, it's the "Big Three" convo. "What big three?" "Androids, aliens, and wizards." Still funny. Sam's so proud of himself.

"I'm coming with you." "No, you're not." Bucky went with him.

Did they glare at each other the whole way to Munich? lol. I love this show so much already.

"Enjoy the ride, Buck." "No, you can't call me that." "Why not? That's what Steve called you." "Steve knew me longer. And Steve had a plan." lol, Steve Rogers never had a plan a day in his life.

Bucky wants a chute, but Torres who wisely stayed out of all of that, is like we're way too low for a chute. "I don't need it anyway." Then Bucky drama school bitch rips off the left sleeve of his jacket and jumps out while yelling like the dumbass he is. And he hits every branch of the dumbass tree on his way to the ground.

"I have all of that on camera, you know that right?" And Redwing zooms by to hovers over Bucky. So, maybe it's not a mystery why he doesn't like Redwing. lol.

Bucky and Sam meet up at a dilapidated warehouse in the middle of the forest. Only good things ever happen in dilapidated warehouses in forests. Like extra shady weapons smuggling. Bucky's gonna stalk after them. Sam messes with him a bit.

"Look at you all stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther." lol. ilu Sam. "It's actually White Wolf." "Huh?" heh. What he won’t tell you, Sam, is that he earned the name from the kids near his goat farm who liked to spy on and giggle at the grumpy growly white guy. 

"Hello. How are you?" "Great. What did I miss?" They're a delightful disaster! And they bicker and bicker and ahh, finally.

Also the people they're stalking are hella strong. And then these two idiots knock into an old bit of metal and make some noise. The shady people stop for a mo' but then move on. Sam scans one of the trucks the shady folks were loading (there are two), there's a figure sitting in the back. "There's an eighth person. I think they have a hostage." And Bucky zooms off! And Sam after him.

Bucky jumps onto the lead truck and then just like wanders around inside. I'm pretty sure the truck behind you noticed you, dummy. Anyway, it's loaded with crates marked "keep frozen." "They're stealing medicine. Vaccines." Those utter bastards. He spots a girl peeking out between containers. "Hi." lol, idiot.

He thinks it's the hostage, but I'm waiting for her to kick his butt out the door. She's not, you know, tied up in anyway. So … Also, again, does the second truck not have a radio to the first truck? Like was the driver texting while Bucky climbed up the back of the truck right in front of him? Now he's strangely incurious about the open door?

And, then she smiles at him and kicks him out the door, he hits the windshield of the second truck (maybe they've finally noticed you, Bucky!) and she puts on a mask with a red handprint. As you do. Two guys on the roof of truck 2, pull Bucky up ready to beat him silly.

Super strong girl, jumps over to truck two and punches Bucky some more. The Redwing zooms over and she jumps up, grabs it, and smashes it over her knee.

"I always wanted to do that," Bucky says, sad he didn't get the chance.

Sam shows up, there are more guys on the roof of the other truck. And there's fighting and fighting and then Sam is pinned down and the bad guy gets plonked with the shield and here comes Captain Poppins dropping down out of a helicopter. What timing. The CGI and green screen for this whole sequence are pretty dire. I'm sorry but it's true.

Captain Poppins is joined by his buddy Hoskins. "Sam. John Walker, Captain America." They know who you are, goober. Though, pausing to introduce yourself in the middle of the fight is a very Steve Rogers move, so points for that, Goober.

Lol, the look on Bucky's face when he catches the shield and Goober takes it from him. He's like 'rule two, rule two, rule two, remember rule two.'

Lots of fighting lots of fighting. Bucky is knocked off the side of the truck, he digs in and sort of zippers down the side, and then hangs off the bottom, his head inches from a tire, clinging to the underside by his vibranium arm. A bad guy stomps on it. Um, it's vibranium, guy. Like … though, somehow it works? and Bucky's arm sort of flops onto the road, sending up sparks. Sam does a neat little move, flies under the two trucks, grabbing Bucky as he goes, and knocking them both free.  None of that worked out particularly well, guys.

"Could have used that shield," Bucky says helpfully. lol. "Those were all super soldiers, Sam." Well, bummer.

Back on the trucks, I think Hoskins is in trouble. Cap Goober is pulling himself back up. Hoskins is thrown from the truck, but Cap Goober tosses the shield and Hoskins lands on that. Now Goober squares off against super soldier chick. He does not fare well. And he's thrown from the truck to land on the windshield of a following car. You know, if I'm driving down the road and I see people fighting on a pair of big rigs, I don't follow close. You know what I'm saying? I maybe pull over and let them get way far away from me. Anyway, sorry for your body damage.

Bucky and Sam walk along the road, a pair of sad sad heroes who did not have a plan.

"I'm sorry about Redwing." "No, you're not."

Cap Goober turns up in a sorry looking vehicle of some sort. "So that didn't go as planned." Bucky and Sam keep walking. lol

So Goober's vehicle keeps pace with the disaster duo. "We're pretty sure it's one of the Big Three."

Bucky: "THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS WIZARDS!" That's his hill, he'll die on it.

Since it's super soldiers, and that's bad news, Cap Goober thinks they should work together. Sam's quiet but not thrilled. Bucky is not quiet. "Just 'cause you carry that shield, it doesn't mean you're Captain America."

Cap Goober has apparently jumped on a grenade 4 times. "It's a thing I do with my helmet. It's reinforced." Okay, I laughed.

He persuades them to ride with him, because it's like 20 miles to the airport. It's probably for the best, since I'm pretty sure they might try to strangle each other in five.

"They (Flag Haters Anonymous) say their mission is to get things back to the way they were during the blip." This group's goals are so hazy and weird.

oh, lol. Sam wanted to know how they tracked the Flag Smashers, and Hoskins is like, um, actually, we tracked redwing. "It's not exactly hacking," Captain Goober explains, "it's government property. We're kind of the government." Not winning any points, Goober.

Bucky's just glaring at him.  "Does he always just stare like that?" lol

We get a bit of exposition about a group called the GRC, the Global Repatriation Council, which is tasked with helping the previously blipped reintegrate. Sam's like, okay, and? Hoskins explains "they provide the resources, and we keep things stable." The GRC sounds even more make believe than super soldiers, to be honest. But, whatever. Not here to analyze the bizarre and unlikely geopolitics of the MCU. Cap Goober makes a pitch for Sam and Bucky to sign up but Bucky is very firm about his "No".

Hoskins insists he has mad respect for them, but they were getting their asses kicked until he and goober showed up. Um, Hoskins, my dude, you also got your ass kicked.

Bucky stares for a second. "Who are you?" "Lamar Hoskins." Sam insists he needs more than that. "I'm Battlestar. John's partner."

Bucky says Mm hmm. Stop the car. And he's gone.

Cap Goober gives a pitch to Sam about how he's not trying to be Steve, or replace him, he's just trying to do his best and be the best Captain America he can, and it'd be great to have Cap's 'wingmen' on his side. I sense sincerity, but you're still punchable, goober. And Sam isn't buying it either. He shakes his head and laughs bitterly, "It's always that last line." He hops out and follows Bucky.

Elsewhere, the super terrorists have reached a safe house with a way too chatty dude who is trying to make them at home in his dicey looking shopfront. He rattles on about how they're becoming legends and the people love them because they're pushing back! Against … the GRC? I guess?

Super soldier girl (Karli) gets a hate text. "You took what is mine. I'm going to find you and kill you." Well, sleep tight, sister!

One of the other guys has already logged into a computer system and he starts hacking and wiping their info off the internets and interpol, I guess.

"Six months ago would you have imagined people supporting a cause like this?" I'm still very unclear on what your cause is.

Maybe I'm overthinking the silly superhero universe, but I can't imagine the blip world was wonderful. You're missing half the people. So half of everybody who'd do various jobs. So half of the knowledge base of humanity on earth. Half of the experience base of humanity on earth. Half of the farmers, half of the engineers, half of the doctors, half of the people who maintain any system you can imagine, half of the people who build those systems, half of the teachers, half of the factory workers, half of the grandparents who pass down stories and community knowledge, half of the animals, half of the fish, half of the insects and so half of the plants. Ecosystems could easily collapse. Certainly infrastructure did, with half of the people needed to maintain it gone. Cities would have started to crumble, since half of the sources of goods, food, and services were gone. (we did have something of a real-world equivalent in Europe during the Black Death. Things were not nice for quite a long while after the worst years of the plague.)

I'm sure there would be areas that did better than others. But, half of any government gone, half of any police, half of any military. There would be power vacuums and probably shitheads to fill them. I don't see any particular utopia in a blip-ified world.

And that's not even taking into account the psychological damage to all the unblipped. The pure existential horror of half of everything suddenly gone.

But, that aside. I like genuinely do not know what they're trying to achieve.  

"We're not playing no more," announces Karli. "We can't let the same assholes who were put back in power after the Blip win." Literally do not know what that means. "The GRC care more about the people who came back than the ones who never left." I mean … isn't that literally what they're for? "We got a glimpse of how things could be." Chaotic and apocalyptic? In fairness, I guess if you could carve out your own thing in that, and maybe it could even be good, then you'd be bitter if everybody came back all of a sudden and messed that up. I'm sure the power struggles are real.

"One world! One people!" Okaly-dokaly. Fascinated to see how you eight will achieve that.

Bucky's brooding on a plane, Sam's trying to sleep but the brooding is too much to ignore.

"You alright?" "Let's take the shield, Sam. Let's take the shield and do this ourselves." He's using his almost scary Winter Soldier voice. And staring into the void. Sam, call his doctor. She needs to remind him of rules one and two. "We can't just run up on a man, beat him up, and take it." Good point, Sam. For real, call Bucky's doctor. He's going to the scary illegal place.

"Do you remember what happened the last time we stole it?" "Maybe." lol such a petulant little grumpus you are, Bucky. "I'll help you in case you forgot. Sharon was branded an enemy of the state and Steve and I were on the run for two years." Not everybody was lucky enough to have a goat farm during all that, Bucky. That's what the man's saying.

"We just got our ass handed to us by super soldiers and we got nothing." "That's not entirely true," Bucky says mysteriously. And he jumps down off his brooding crate to go sit next to Sam. "There is someone that you should meet."

Baltimore, Maryland

Sam has a cute aside with a neighborhood kid, then Bucky leads him up to a house that has seen better days. Somebody answers the door and Bucky says they're there to see Isaiah. But, the young guy who answers the door insists there's no Isaiah there. He's not very welcoming. Bucky says "tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here." The things you got up to, Bucky. I do wonder. "We had a skirmish during the Korean war." oh, lol. I mean, I'm sure it's a horrible story, but lol, Bucky you disaster.

Oh hey, Carl Lumbly! Gosh, I haven't seen him in an age. I almost didn't recognize him.

"He was a hero. One of the ones that Hydra feared the most. Like Steve. We met in '51." "If by met, you mean I whupped your ass, then, yeah." lol

Isaiah says he took part of Bucky's arm in Goyang and he just wanted to see if it grew back. And if Bucky was there to kill him. Bucky says he's not a killer anymore.

"You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be?" Well, sure. "It doesn't work like that." Oh, but it must, or else what's the point? Isaiah has a lot of reasons to be bitter, though. 

"Isaiah, the reason we're here, is because there's more of you and me out there. And we need to know how."

This does not please Isaiah, who doesn't want to talk and throws a can of sardines (or something, I don't know what that was) through the wall. Old but still super solidery.

"You know what they did to me for being a hero? They put my ass in jail for 30 years." Um, wow. "People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. Even your people weren't done with me." Well, that's deeply uncool. He very much wants his unwelcome guests to GFO, and I can't say I blame him.  

Sam is super pissed once they get out onto the street. "Why didn't you tell me about Isaiah?" Bucky doesn't answer. "I asked you a question, Bucky." Yikes.

And no, Steve never knew, because Bucky never told him. "So you're telling me there was a black super soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?" I guess so.

And we're interrupted by a bizarre random encounter with presumably racist cops. They stop them in the street, get weird about asking for ID, and then ask Bucky, "is this guy bothering you?" And Bucky's like what in the actual fuck, he looks like a high school chem teacher and I look like the muscle for a loan shark, "no he's not bothering me. Do you know who he is?" Oh to be the Winter Soldier again for just a moment, eh? Anyway, one of the dipshits recognizes Sam and they get all dipshitty apologetic. "oh, Mr. Wilson, we're so sorry."

Oh, lol, they're going to arrest Bucky. There's a warrant out for him, because he missed his therapy session. I told somebody to call his therapist! I want to know which of those dipshits ran Sam and Bucky for wants. Because that’s not automatic or some shit, somebody’s got to call it in. 

Sam's like 'well that took a weird turn.'

Sam and Dr Raynor meet at whatever facility they’re holding Bucky. "Thanks for getting him out." "That was not me," the doctor assures him. Nope, it was Captain Goober, who greets the doctor with a wave. "Christina! It's great to see you again." lol. And Sam's day gets worse.

"I heard you were working with Bucky and thought I'd step in. Bucky's not going to be working on a strict schedule any longer." 

She's like, uh what? Says who? And he points at himself. okay, again, lol. Though, it’s weird to me how he insists on calling Bucky ‘Bucky’, like they’re buddies. They’re not buddies. Bucky's going to punch him in the face. 

"He's too valuable an asset to have him tied up. So just do whatever you've got to do with him, then send him off to me." Will Bucky turn around and go right back into his holding cell?

Dr's not going to let him. "James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam." "That's okay. I'll be out here with…" "That wasn't a request." Poor Sam. He has had THE WORST DAY.

I love Bucky slouching against the sergeant's desk all surly, like a 16 year old who got busted for boosting his grandmother's car.

Dr Raynor settles them all in what I assume is an interrogation room. She tells Bucky she just wants to help him get over whatever is eating at him. I guess she figures Sam could help with that, too?

"We're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they want to build together." lol. but of course. a million fic writers deliriously rush to their keyboards.  

"Are you familiar with the miracle question?" "Absolutely not." "Of course not." heh "Okay, it goes like this. Suppose that while you're sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?"

Bucky says his miracle would be Sam talking less. Sam says that's what he was going to say. Dr Raynor is writing fic of her own. "You guys are leaving me no choice. It's time for the soul-gazing exercise." This is the weirdest therapy session ever.

Bucky is very on board. Sam's like 'what have you done? staring? that's his thing!'

"Let's do it. Let's stare. This is a good exercise. Thanks, doc." Bucky, you little asshole. lol

How many takes to do this scene? I can tell they're trying not to laugh. "Take 57. It's 1:30 am, guys. Please, can we get it this time?"

"Wait, what are you doing? Are you having a staring contest?" What about these two men's attitudes walking into the room suggested they were going to be at all mature about this, Doc?

"James, why does Sam aggravate you? And don't say something childish." She knows you too well, Buck.

Oh, Bucky. He wants to know why Sam gave up the shield, because Steve believed in him, gave him the shield for a reason. But, maybe Steve was wrong about Sam and if he was wrong about Sam, then he was wrong about Bucky.

Sam, has his reasons. He says maybe Bucky and Steve can't understand, but he wants to know if Bucky can accept that he did what he thought was right. Poor Sam.

And Sam's had enough. He says they've got bigger shit going on and he'll put whatever this issue is aside for now, and they'll go take care of that, and then he and Bucky can never see each other again. "Thanks doc, for making it weird. I feel much better."

She's like, well shit.

Bucky leaves as well, but she stops him. "I know that look. What's wrong?" "What was rule two again?" "Don't hurt anyone." "Goodbye, doc."

I think maybe she miscalculated a tiny bit.

"I feel better," Sam grumbles. "I feel awful," Bucky sighs.

And down the street Captain Goober and Hoskins starts chirping a police siren at them and they wave them over. "Gentlemen!" I really want Bucky to punch him just once.

Goober wants them to join forces. They're tracking Karli through various displaced communities in Europe.  She's the flag stompers leader, I guess? She's like … 16. DOUBT.

Anyway, she's do-goodering by stealing medicine and taking it to the displaced camps. I'm confused. So, post-blip, people who'd not blipped are now suddenly being displaced? I thought the displaced where the blipped trying to reintegrate. But, she was mad at the GRC for only caring about the blipped not the unblipped (which, again is the GRC's raison d'être, so yes?). I feel like I'm missing something.

Bucky snarks at Goober a bit. He's not a fan at all. "Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?" 

Sam's like okay, let's all simmer down. "It is imperative that we find them and stop them." But, also, though, he and Bucky are free agents, so they're more flexible than mister "i'm the government" over there.

Captain Goober doesn't care for that. "Word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way." Don't push your luck, goober.

Bratislava, Slovakia

Flag Stompers loading a small plane. Uh oh, they've been found out! Karli asks how much time they have. "None. It's the Power Broker's men." The Power Broker. See, that's the kind of jackassery you get in a Blip scenario. That's what I'm talking about. Did you steal super soldier serum from this guy, Karli? Hmmm? One noble Flag Stomper offers to stay behind and hold them off while they make their escape, for One World! One People! Dream big, kid.

He knocks down a power pole to block the road but then he runs at the badder guys? And gets himself shot a zillionty times. I … he'd already blocked the road? Why not just … you know what? Never mind.

Back to Bucky and Sam and Bucky with an idea that might just be worse than the self-sacrificing Flag Stomper's run-at-the-badder-guys-for-great-justice idea. He suggests that perhaps somebody who knows all of Hydra's secrets can give them the answers they need. 

"So you're just going to go sit in a room with this guy?" "Ye-… yes," Bucky says, absolutely oozing with confidence.

Off to see Zemo! I'm sure that will go terribly! Can't wait!

And Credits!

Not gonna lie. I'm not sure how I feel about this episode. It felt a little disjointed.

I don't get the Flag Munchers, but I'm thinking they're just a red herring. Because they're basically utopian idealist twelve-year olds with nice but vague goals and vague iffy means to achieve those goals. I don't feel they're a whole lot more than some misguided kids who grew up in a blipped world and change is difficult and scary (and I’m sure it’s probably managed poorly. I can’t think of anything less efficient than a global council for anything. you could have a global council for dirt and it would be a bureaucratic nightmare). And they probably stole super soldier serum from somebody way scarier. Dummies. I think they're going to need to be rescued at some point. Probably soonish.

As for that other guy. There's moments where I like John Walker a little bit, and moments where I find him really aggravating. I get they want to make him the super-duper bestest perfectest hero, or that’s why he was chosen by the DoD or whatever, but part of Steve's charm was he wasn't perfect. He wasn't Captain America because he won a million awards, he was Cap because he had a good heart. That's the point. THAT'S WHY YOU SHOULD BE CAP, SAM!

Also, I don't like hard feelings between Sam and Bucky. Though, nothing about their history would suggest an easy friendship (one time Sam was driving in his car and Bucky ripped the damn steering wheel out), so that's not a complaint, it just makes me sad. They really only have a connection because of Steve and he's gone. Be friends, guys!

And finally, when will Sharon Carter return from being an enemy of the state?

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #tfatws liveblog

[iwillbeinmynest]

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f)  Chapter 1

Authors Notes: Okay so I really wanted to finish this whole series before I started posting but I’m just hoping that y’all will be patient with me because I really am itching to post something. Anyways, I hope y’all like it.    And obviously it doesn’t take much to get me to cave and post before I should. Just a little encouragement will do so please comment and let me know what you think!

AU: Farmhand!AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: 

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist

Moodboard by @itsanerdlife

Chapter 1

Bucky walked out of the airport and took a deep breath of air that he knew for certain wasn’t polluted. He smiled when he recognized Steve’s white and mint green Chevy pulling up to the curb.

“I’m lookin’ for a Mr. Barnes?” He called with a grin.

“That’s Sergeant to you, punk.” Bucky smiled at the sight of his best friend.

“You need a ride, Mr. Fancy Sergeant?” Steve joked as he shouted from the driver’s seat.

Bucky threw his large olive duffle in the bed and grabbed the door. “I don’t feel like walkin’ that’s for sure.”

Steve and Bucky hugged for a second before patting each other on the back really hard.

“Glad to have you back, man.” Steve said as he pulled away from the curb.

Bucky leaned back in his seat and sighed, “Glad to be back.”

They settled into a bright conversation of childhood memories that lasted the entire two and a half hours back to Redcove, Georgia.

Bucky and Steve had been friends since birth, their mothers being close friends who ran in the same circles. They were inseparable. It was always one chasing around the other but mostly Bucky chasing Steve to make sure he didn’t get into another fight.

They were on the same little league teams, went to the same summer camps, as well as the same schools- not that there was more than one option in this tiny country town.

After high school, Bucky got it in his head that he was going to join the military and went out and signed up the week after graduation. Steve had tried to follow him, but didn’t qualify.

Bucky left that August and only came back home twice- when his mother died and when Steve’s mother died. But now, he had served his country and was finally ready to retire to the calm of Redcove.

Steve pulled up to his family’s farmhouse and threw the truck in park. “Well, home sweet home, right?”

Bucky smiled as he looked across the familiar lawn. “Home sweet home.” He repeated.

“Stay as long as you like, Buck. The house is big enough. I know it’s too big for just me.”

“Property looks good,” Bucky commented as he got out. “You keep it up by yourself?”

“Nah,” Steve pulled his keys out and unlocked the front door. “I got a kid who works for me every other week. Nice guy, high schooler.”

“Oh,” Bucky sounded a little disappointed.

Steve looked back as he dropped his wallet and keys on the kitchen counter, with a raised brow. “You wanted to work here?”

Bucky put his duffle at the bottom of the stairs and then went to the kitchen. “I mean, kind of. I know the property and I need a job.”

Steve grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to Buck. “Well, I can’t fire the kid but I could put you on at the store, at least until you find something else.”

Bucky lit up a bit. “That would work.” He smiled.

Steve extended his bottle, “Welcome home, jerk.”

Bucky tapped his bottle to Steve’s and grinned. He took a drink and then scrunched his nose. “Is this lite?” He turned the bottle to see the label. Yep.

“You got a problem, buy your own beer.” Steve smirked.

“Punk.” Bucky shook his head with a grin and took another sip.

*   *   *   *

 Bucky huffed as he dropped another bag of chicken feed onto the loading cart. He hauled the cart onto the store floor and began to restock the feed.

Rogers’ Feed and Seed was a family business. It was Steve’s grandfather’s, then his father’s and now his. Bucky remembered coming here after school and helping out until closing. The store hadn’t changed much. There were a few new faces that he didn’t know but some of the older patrons he still recognized.

On his break, Bucky walked to the back to find something to eat when a flash of white caught his eye. In the hallway to the break room, there was a bulletin board. There were a few business cards pinned there, a lost dog poster and a few ads. One was for a dog sitter and one had baby goats for sale but the flyer that caught his eye was an ad looking for a farmhand.

The paper was white with black marker on it.  A smile teased the corners of his lip, he liked that it was straight forward.

         FARMHAND FOR HIRE

 3 MONTHS WORK GUARANTEED

 POSSIBLY MORE. PLEASE CALL...

And it listed the phone number. Bucky pulled the ad from the board, folded it up and put it in his pocket.

Steve walked down the hall. “Find anything?”

Bucky nodded. “Maybe,” he pulled the paper back out. “Just a farmhand ad. Isn’t long term.”

Steve took one look at the paper and his brows lifted for a moment.

“What?” Bucky was curious, now. “Should I bother? What’s wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Steve smirked. “You should, uh,” His smile got wider. “Yeah, you should call.” And he patted Bucky on the shoulder and walked back onto the floor.

Bucky watched him for a moment then looked back at the paper. Now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to call.

*   *   *   *

That evening, Bucky sat at the breakfast table under the solitary light and thought about the ad. He held his beer with one hand and spun his phone on the table with the other.

He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip and tried to decipher the very aggravating look Steve gave him in the hallway, earlier. It was the look that told Bucky that Steve knew something and wasn’t going to tell him. And there was no use trying to get Steve to fess up because he was as stubborn as a mule.

Bucky stood from the table and went out onto the porch. He sat in one of the rockers and pulled the paper from his pocket and dialed the number.

“Hello?” he said after she did. Bucky was surprised to hear a woman answer the phone. “....Hi, yeah, I was calling about your farmhand ad. ...Yes ma’am. I can meet you tomorrow if that works. Oh, okay, hold on,” He got up quickly from his chair and hurried back inside. He grabbed a pen but couldn’t find any paper. “Sorry, one second.” He grabbed a napkin from the kitchen. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He copied her address as she said it and then repeated it back to her.

“Okay, yeah, tomorrow at eleven works. Thank you. Okay, goodbye.”

Steve leaned against the counter with crossed arms and a crap-eating grin. “You called her?”

Bucky frowned. “Why do you keep looking like that? What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Steve threw his hands up. “Have fun at your new job.” He called as he left the kitchen.

“I don’t even know if i’ve got it yet.” Bucky stared off after him with furrowed brows. “Wait, what do you mean ‘have fun’?”

“Nothin’!” Steve shouted from the stairs.

“Steve!”

* * * * * * * *

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#Bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #single mom! reader #marvel fic #Farmhand! AU #Iwillbeinmynest #my fic #Bucky series

[luninosity]

It’s @whumptober2020 time! Have some Steve/Bucky, with modern-day politician!Steve. This one’s for theme 17 - I Did Not See That Coming - specific prompt: blackmail; and theme 26 - If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad - specific prompt: migraines.

Enjoy!

#

Bucky reads the email. Then reads it again. Looks at the pictures. Then takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes, fingers pressing the spot between his eyebrows. He knows the words and the photos won’t go away.

 He’s already got a headache: the beginnings of what, based on experience, is going to be a really awful migraine. It’s been a long day even though it’s only eleven in the morning; he loves the energy and momentum of Steve’s congressional campaign, and he loves helping write press releases and speeches, and he loves Steve, of course.

 It’s just a lot. Noise bounces around the headquarters and bounds into Bucky’s office despite his closed door. The passion’s wonderful but also loud. Their lives are already changing; they’ll change even more once Steve’s elected. And now there’s this.

 Bucky wishes fleetingly, just for a second, that he and Steve could run away somewhere, just the two of them, maybe visiting a goat farm or the Grand Canyon or someplace quiet and vast and full of stars; and then he laughs a little at impossibilities and gets up. He loves Steve, and Steve needs to know about this.

 He catches his balance with a hand on the side of his desk, as his vision briefly sparkles and blurs. His desk supports him, worried. Steve’ll be worried too, so Bucky squares his shoulders and ducks out into the cacophony of posters and phone calls and lurking reporters and interns. Several of them recognize him—not as Steve’s boyfriend, but as a valuable inner-circle staff member—and wave. Bucky lifts a hand in reply.

 They don’t know he’s Steve’s boyfriend because, on advice from Brock the campaign manager, they’ve been keeping that one quiet. Bucky’s not an asset, Brock’d said. The sexuality might be acceptable—Steve’s proudly pansexual, always has been, and Bucky’s also out and not shy about being gay, and Steve’s campaign’s built around inclusion and affirmation. Steve could run for office with a man on his arm. But James Buchanan Barnes specifically…

 James Barnes, one-time prisoner of war. James Barnes, present-day moderately successful science fiction author, not bad with words and putting them together. James Barnes, formerly brainwashed former assassin. James Barnes, with a twisted and ugly past that even he doesn’t remember too much about, who’s done things the legal system says he’s not guilty of, not being in his sound mind and all, but who still pulled those triggers, set those traps. James Barnes has a prosthetic arm, PTSD, and migraines and full-body aches on an unpredictable and painful schedule.

 James Barnes would be a liability, if Steve wants to win.

 Bucky, who’d once upon a time seen Steve’s face on a local council-board election poster while roaming New York City streets on an assignment, who’d recognized the eyes of the boy who’d been the first person he’d ever kissed and the boy he’d grown up with and joined the Army with, who’d stood there and gone off-mission and abandoned his target because tiny firecrackers of memory were exploding behind his eyes…

 Bucky had nodded. Agreeing with Brock.

 Steve, of course, had been angry. But Steve also listens to Bucky, at least more than to anyone else. And Bucky had made a choice, and Steve won’t trample over that.

 His head aches, dull and clumsy and thick. He clutches his phone.

 He taps at the frame of Steve’s open door. Natasha, who’s in charge of publicity, is just getting up to leave; her expression starts as a smile but becomes concern. “Are you—”

 Bucky tries for a smile. Even his face hurts. “Just something Steve should look over.”

 Natasha obviously notices he’s not carrying anything, no printed speech drafts or copy for a press release, just his phone; but she only nods, not pushing. She does pat his shoulder, the not-prosthetic one, on the way out. And shuts the door.

 Bucky’s pretty sure she’s guessed about him and Steve. He’s not sure Steve realizes that.

 Steve at the moment is getting up—he’d been leaning casually against his desk, not sitting behind it—and coming over, holding out both hands, all muscles and blue eyes and golden shining heroic concern. “Buck—I was just going to come find you, I wanted to tell you—come here, sit down, you look—another migraine? Or—”

 “Yeah, but that’s not it.” He does sit down, because Steve’s guiding him onto the small blue sofa. It’s not really big enough for two men their size, but being close to Steve feels nice. Or it does for now; his stomach twists. Steve might not want to hold him, in a minute. “I just got this email. You need to know.”

 Steve takes his phone. Reads. Swears, low and vehement.

 “Yeah.” Bucky closes his eyes. His stomach feels unhappy too. Nausea, right on schedule. Steve’s lights’re too bright. His shoulder hurts; even his hair aches. “I don’t know how he got those pictures. But the how doesn’t matter.”

 The man has pictures. Bucky and Steve. Clearly together: caught sharing a kiss as they duck into their front door, coming home, laughing under an umbrella and the rain. Unmistakable.

 He wants money. He also wants Steve to drop out of the race. The timing’s flawless; the polls have Steve ahead, as announced earlier this morning.

 Steve sets down Bucky’s phone. Stretches an arm to reach the light switch, which he can, just barely, and dims the lights. Then coaxes Bucky further down onto the sofa, head pillowed on Steve’s lap. Bucky tries to protest but desperately wants to lie down, wants Steve’s hands on him, and so gives in.

 Steve’s artist’s fingers rub lightly over his temple. “How’s this?”

 “Better.” It is, a little. Steve knows how hard and where to touch, or not touch, or work up to. “Love you.” Even as he says it, he winces: that’s exactly the problem right now.

 Steve’s hand moves to the nape of Bucky’s neck, soothing, rubbing tension away. “Love you. So, um. What I wanted to tell you…guess this won’t be so bad, after all, and the timing’s even kinda funny…”

 “Steve, he’s trying to blackmail you. Using me.”

 “And it’s not gonna work.” Steve’s deploying a version of the politician voice, the authoritative fiercely protective one that never fails to weaken Bucky’s knees, but this version’s even deeper and rumbly and intimate: Steve’s not about to let anyone threaten Bucky. “I fired Brock this morning.”

 “You what? Why?” Bucky starts to sit up. Cars crash inside his skull; he can’t breathe, dizzy. “I need to write you a statement—you’ll need a draft of—Jesus, Steve, tell me you at least said something tactful—”

 “Well, I didn’t punch him. Close, though.” Steve sounds amazingly unworried. His hands ease Bucky back down; one covers Bucky’s eyes, making the world blessedly dark and calm. “Nat’s taking over as campaign manager. That’s what she was in here to talk about.”

 “Jesus,” Bucky says again. “It’s only eleven am, and you’ve fired Brock and given Nat a new job, and we’re getting blackmailed. Why’d you fire him?”

 “He…said something I didn’t like. Want me to make your ginger tea or grab your painkillers?”

 “No, just stay here for now. It wasn’t about me, was it?” The guilty silence on Steve’s end makes Bucky’s head thump more. “Steve, no. Tell me you’re not firing people over me.”

 “I fired him because he’s a fucking awful person who says fucking awful things about people who’ve been through trauma, and also about women, and also about people in therapy, and also about which of our interns he wants to fuck,” Steve says. “I don’t want any of that around here. And I want you here. I’m done pretending I’m not in love with you, Bucky Barnes.”

 “Steve—”

 “I’m proud to be with you.” Steve lifts the hand from Bucky’s eyes long enough for Bucky to focus on him, to see he means it. He does, and all that fiery conviction takes Bucky’s breath away.

 Steve Rogers has always been ready to take on any villains, to join any protests, to protect the world if the world needs a protector. Skinny scrawny sickly Steve’d had that lion’s heart long before the Army and the rippling muscles and, now, the carefully chosen politician’s suits and ties. Steve knows about strategies on all sorts of battlefields.

 And Bucky loves him so damn much, with heart and soul and fingertips and kisses and aching dreams and hopes and promises. With everything they are and have been and will be, together.

 Steve goes on, “I’m proud to stand next to you. I love you. I don’t fucking care who knows it—it’s about time everyone knows it. That’s who I am, and I’m not gonna hide it, and I’m not gonna let some jerk with a camera ruin it. You’re you and I’m me and we’re together to the end of the line.”

 “And that’s that,” Bucky manages, shaky.

 “Yep.”

 “So…we’re…just gonna ignore the whole blackmail thing.”

 “We can report it. But I’d already decided.” Steve hesitates. His hand’s stroking Bucky’s hair now, a welcome deliberate heavy presence. “But…guess I didn’t exactly ask you. Shit. I’m sorry, Buck, I should’ve. I haven’t said anything yet, just fired Brock, so…if you want…if you’d rather not…we don’t have to go public. You don’t have to go through that.”

 Bucky doesn’t answer for a second, only lying still in the dark. Steve’s thigh’s a good pillow. Steve’s voice is warm and loving. Steve’s hands are full of love too.

 He says, “I’ll write us a statement. A press release. And we should do an interview together.”

 Steve’s hand stops moving.

 Bucky opens his eyes a fraction. Peeking up. “Kinda proud to be with you, too, y’know.”

 “Oh,” Steve says. “But—I thought—”

 “Never really wanted to hide.” Bucky shrugs a shoulder, a small movement; it doesn’t hurt. “Just thought…maybe it was the right advice, not like I know anything about politics, and maybe you’d be better off…”

 “I wasn’t. Not without you.” Steve touches a fingertip to Bucky’s mouth; Bucky kisses it. “So you only agreed because of me. Trying to protect me.”

 “And you fire people because of me.”

 “Just the one, and he’s a dick.”

 “I like your dick,” Bucky tells him, not that Steve doesn’t already know. “So…guess we’re doing this. When?”

 “Now,” Steve says. “I’m taking a long lunch and I don’t have anything I can’t reschedule—or that Nat can’t handle—this afternoon. I’m planning to take my boyfriend home, take care of him, and also kiss him in front of the whole campaign staff on the way out. If he’s, y’know, good with that.”

 “He’s very, very good with that,” Bucky says, because it’s very, very true. Despite the pounding in his head, the world’s looking fantastic. Brock’s gone, Steve’s ahead in the polls, the blackmail’s utterly irrelevant, and Bucky gets to kiss Steve and be loved by Steve and swept away by Steve while people cheer, and so, yeah: good, he decides, is exactly the word.

#whumptober2020 #no.17 #no.26 #i did not see that coming #if you thought the head trauma was bad #blackmail #migraines #stucky #fic #steve/bucky #my fic

[mirkysconcubinefiction]

You Know

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader (****), Bucky

Summary: What Steve walked into was a catacomb of missed chances, squandered love, utter betrayal, and regret plastered on the walls. Poster sized prints weren't taped to the walls, oh no, **** glued reprints of him fucking another woman on whatever space she could manage.

Tags: Angst, Cheating, Broken Engagement, Drunk Texting/Video, attempt at Humor

AO3: Mirkys_Concubine

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You didn't need or want a boyfriend... Or girlfriend for that matter.

One minute you were fine and dandy wiping down a table and the next your tray whizzed through the air and smacked a perv in the head.

And again.

And again.

And again.

If someone gropes your ass the logical reaction would be murder. At least that's what your mama had taught you.

Kill them like the roach they were.

Maybe that's when he saw you more than a random part time human he interacted with? He had swooped in, plucked the tray out of your hand, and broke it in half over the guys head.

Of course you politely said thank you before landing a solid kick into the perv. Not the face. If there weren't cameras you'd have stomped on his head.

Twice.

The way your mama had taught you.

That was then.

Before routine.

When he had to stalk you for a date in his goofy bashful self. When his best friend would get a kick of the 'old Steve' that was a mess around girls. When he had... no... there was no sense in getting nalstagic.

While you didn't want a boyfriend you never expected to get married. Steve's friends had been more excited than you, magazines and samples had taken over the small breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen. You lit them on fire on the roof in one of the communal pits and lounged with takeout and wine. It's where you sat and made the decision to leave.

You couldn't stay.

God what would your mother say if she had been alive? She'd be disappointed in you.

The ring was rose gold, shaped like an octagon, and while pretty you had been afraid you'd lose it. Tempting as it was to flush it down the toilet you left it in the freezer atop a bag of sweet corn.

You packed your clothes - the ones you had purchased - into one luggage, another luggage was your shoes and intimates, and your carry on bag was large enough for your toiletries and kindle.

The car you purchased - with cash and registered under an alias - had enough space in the trunk for the luggage. The lovely security guard had helped you - bless him - and then you drove off. You refused to look back and you refused to shed another tear.

Well planned and as thought out as one could get considering their ex was an avenger with questionable access to the interwebs. You waited until the Avengers were on a mission.

A friend of a friend helped with your makeup and prosthetics to make you look like an elderly man, and you had enough cash on you to fund a bank. No paper trails, no cell phones beyond a simple Nokia that had no internet access, and once you made it outside state lines and to a safe house you'll disappear.

Again.

No more chances at romance.

All men were the same.

Even all american test tube super hero's weren't immune to cheating and lying.

✖

Home.

It used to be warm, smelled of dessert, savory meals, music played in the background, **** off tune voice singing along, there was a garden scattered throughout the condo, fruit always filled a basket, and more importantly **** was there to make him feel human.

Less lonely.

Alive.

Loved.

Cherished.

That was home. One he worked hard to obtain.

What Steve walked into was a catacomb of missed chances, squandered love, utter betrayal, and regret plastered on the walls. Poster sized prints weren't taped to the walls, oh no, **** glued reprints of him fucking another woman on whatever space she could manage.

The glossy original prints hung from the ceiling right over their bed like a weird still mobile. With that thought Steve remembered the birth control pills and hoped she would never catch on as to how insane he really was over her.

The doorbell rang.

Had it been anyone else, Steve wouldn't have opened the door but instinct fueled his hand and trust didn't make him flinch as a fist hit him in the face and he was down. Dropped on his ass in his own home with an incensed soldier grabbing him by his shirt and tossing him like a rag doll before shutting the door and locking it.

✖

The island held an empty fruit basket and a ring. A frozen mockery of a promise he remembered in great detail from months ago. Bucky had found it as he had been gracious enough to offer a bag of frozen peas only to find a bag of sweet corn and a ring.

Steve wanted to cry.

He wanted to get angry.

He wanted to call Tony for a favor but he could do nothing but sit on a stool his fiancee, future wife, future mother to his children, now 'ex', had picked out.

Only Bucky would probably kill him if he so much as sniffled.

The bag of sweet corn smacked him across the face none too gently and Steve winced. The other stool creaked as the crack and hiss of a Fanta soda being opened. Yet another check against him, **** made a point to stock the fridge with his and Bucky's favorites.

"Hope she was worth it."

"Buck..."

"Blond, green eyes, fake tits, didn't know desperate was your type."

Steve shut both eyes and slouched, "It was a mistake."

Bucky's brows lifted, soda can midway to his lips. "Fucking her for two months is now a mistake?"

"Look... I tried to stop it. Every time we met it just... Happened." It was stupid and in a way so true. He had tried stopping but some how they always end up fucking and every time he promised himself it was the last.

"Bullshit!" The can bent as it was slammed onto the counter. "You don't commit to marriage and then run off to fuck some floozie from legal!"

"I'm sorry!" Steve snapped, "I know I fucked up! It's on all the fucking walls!" Which was true. Even the fridge door had a blown picture of his face between slender legs and the freezer door a blown up shot of his cock being sucked. "I need to find her, apologise, and fix this." Bucky snorted, "I can fix this."

"**** has more respect for herself than you do of her."

"I love her." He did. Steve loved **** more than he'd love Peggy.

"You don't love a woman like **** and then fuck a bitch behind her back."

"It was a mistake." Steve grit out, irritated.

"Two months isn't a mistake. That's a fucking affair. Litteraly. You fucked like rabbits."

Steve stared, a frown tugging at his lips. "How do you know?"

Bucky stood and went for another soda only to stare at the woman splayed out for the world to see, "She is hot. Better looking than ****. It would've hurt more if you'd downgraded."

"**** is perfect!" Steve spat, throwing the bag of mushy corn where it burst as it hit a well.

"Look at her though." Bucky tapped on the breasts, "Nipples are spaced perfectly, more than a handfull, kudos to her surgeon."

"Kudos? When do you say kudos?"

"Must be on a low carb keto diet or those green smoothies, and even her belly button is worth cumming over."

Steve stared. Horrified. What was going on?

"And look at her skill!" A metal knuckle tapped at where the womana nose pressed against Steve's pubes. "Porn quality. The type of girl you want to teach you some shit."

"You know where she is." It wasn't a question. Bucky didn't talk like that. The man was a storm of swears, stares, and threats. Not... this. "Where is she?"

"Wish I knew so I could tell you to fuck off."

"She couldn't have gone far if she met with you, I might have time..."

"I haven't spoken to **** and i don't expect to hear from her again actually." Bucky ignored his friend's glare as he rummaged through the fridge for another soda and snagged a bag of cookies because only **** would hoard cookies in a refrigerator. "She left her phone in my apartment and instructions to watch her video."

"What?"

Bucky pulled out **** phone tucked on the inside of his jacket and tossed it to the other man. He returned to his seat, opened his soda, and munched on his cookies.

The phone wasn't password activated and a quick search proved most of the personal stuff like pictures and apps were deleted except for a single video.

Hey Tiny.

**** personal nickname for Bucky who had lost a bet but secretly was amused by it. The phone shook as **** had nearly dropped it with a swear. She looked as if she had been crying and she was chugging from a bottle of plum wine. Her favorite wine.

Just wanted to say i will miss you and i love you. Like, really, really love you. I'd give you my kidney sorta love.

She giggled and sipped at her bottle, eye's roaming the room. Tears slipped from her eyes and Steve felt his own burn. **** was a mess. She used a sleeve to wipe at her nose and her smile was shaky.

I redecorated, Steve will love it.

The camera flipped and **** showed off the wallpaper of porn. The condo looked trashed and luggage was open on the living room floor half packed and takeout piled on the coffee table.

I figure since he loved to fuck random pussy he'd like this theme. I call it *Whore of Narcissism*

The camera swivels and zooms into a familiar picture of the woman laid out and the hand holding the bottle points at the woman.

Not her. She not a whore Tiny. Ok!

The camera swivels to another portrait of Steve's face.

He's a cunt faced whore.

The camera switches and **** is giggling again.

Shhh. Look what I did. Put it it on the fridge door, that's where I keep the fish sticks.

Bucky snorts and Steve barely refrains from giving the man the finger.

See. Cunt whore faced.

**** giggles

Don't tell him but he can't eat pussy. He can't, he misses the clit. Like how do you miss this?

The phone tilts and Steve swears as she's wearing practically nothing. It wasn't her sexy underwear but the shear laced thong left little to be hidden.

It's right there, see it pokes out a bit too.

**** bumps her pussy with the bottom of edge of the wine bottle.

How can he miss it?

"It gets better." Bucky happily munches on a cookie.

"Fuck you."

Look. Just look.

There's a thunk as the bottle was set down and **** shoves aside her underwear and it was a crooked close up of her manicured pussy.

How is this not buffet worthy? My pussy tastes like sin yet he treats it like a McD's drive through. My pussy is not a Big Mac! It's MSG!

The phone jerks up back to her face and she's angry.

Chinese buffet MSG quality. My pussy is it's own zodiac sign ok!

Bucky's shoulders are shaking and Steve is mortified.

Maybe he likes her sauce though?

The camera points to his head between the girls legs.

He never spends forever with me but with her... I got so many pictures of her and he is just there. I have a buffet he can eat from and he chooses this...

Her hand smacks on a breast.

She's hot Bucky. Look at her. She's fucking perfect and her tits are fucking perfect. You see them? Nipples spaced perfectly, bigger than his hands, kuddos to whoever worked on her, she's a fucking art piece, I wanna know her surgeon, I want tits like hers.

The camera shifts and **** holds the camera up at an angle downward as she unhooks her bra with one hand and slips one arm out while it dangles from the other and she's touching herself.

See one's smaller.

"Did you..." Steve couldn't get it out as he watched his fiance complain about her breasts on camera to his best friend. Brother.

"Fuck her?" Bucky crushes his empty soda can, "I'm not you. If I had that in my bed I wouldn't get complaints about my mouth."

... at least she's hot you know. If he's going to fuck another bitch at least she's beautiful. I'd die if he downgraded you know. He fucked her in the office you know. Her office. She's beautiful and educated and I'm a mess.

The wine bottle was back in her hands and she took a long swallow uncaring that she was half naked.

I'm sorry Tiny. Bucky. I'm... This... I should delete this one but my battery is gonna die so fuck it. I'm leaving. When you see Steve punch him. I can't be there when he gets back. I'll kill him.

She sipped her wine and her brows furrow.

She has to be on some low carb keto diet... I don't think I can drink those green smoothies but I would have. I could look like a porn star! I can look plastic too!

Her eyes go wide before she blinks and frowns.

I can get wigs and wear those waist thingy's and change names... We could have role played. I would have called him daddy or - or - dirty stuff. I could have been his whore you know. I'm not a basic bitch Tiny. If she were my friend she'd teach me to not choke!

**** shakes her head and takes another swig.

I want to hate her but she... Bucky she was crying. He lied to her, for two months he lied to her, and she brought me ice cream Bucky. I couldn't hit her. She got me chocolate.

Her eyes narrowed and the sadness was swept away.

I want to hurt him. Rip his heart out through his ass and shove it down his throat! I planned it too, killing him. Got explosives... was gonna put a trigger thing on it and boom. Take out the whole floor.

**** makes a boom noise before flopping on the couch atop folded clothes, her wine bottle gone from her hands.

Neighbors got a kid downstairs and... Kids... No kids.

She rubs her face, tears leaving tracks and her breadth hitches and she's doing her best to not break down.

I was right. I told you there's no such thing as happily ever after. I told you they're all the same. I'm...

Her breath hitches and she's staring into the lens. Broken.

I'm not perfect Bucky, I'm not her but I loved him. I believed him. You said... Said he was good and I be-believed you cuz I trusted you and I want... Wanted... I deserve to be loved. I am good enough... I'm good... Right? Bucky... Why... Why am I not good enough? what did I do wrong? I... I... I'm sorry.

The phone tumbles and the screen goes dark but Steve can't hold back his own tears as he hears her sob before it cuts off completely.

What had he done?

How did he fix this?

Can he fix this?

End...

Part 2 of 1/2

#fanfiction #fanfic #avengers #mirkysconcubinefiction #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #marvel #bucky #cheating #affair #broken engagement

[heli0s-writes]

The Thief

Summary: Where do all of Bucky’s shirts keep disappearing to?  Pairing: Reader x Bucky A/N: 2.1k word count. Silliness, fluff. Posters from the fic LOL

Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist

Bucky is missing another shirt on Saturday morning. He rifles through his closet, slapping the hangers to the left and down the pole where they clack against each other fearfully. Last week, this happened too. His favorite red Henley with the threadbare hem and black buttons— all day he had searched for it until—

Oh.

With a slightly exasperated groan and a backwards tilt of his head, he closes the closet door. Quietly, he slips out of his room and down the silent hallway until the chatter of voices from the kitchen meets his ears.

Wilson stands at the stove top, flipping pancakes the size of plates— heavy, thick, wheat ones, overloaded with blueberries. Steve is to his side, pouring milk and stealing fruit when Sam isn’t looking. Natasha is perched on the counter, sipping black coffee.

And then, his eyes skip over to the dining table where a pair of delicate feet are propped up on the glass, toes tapping off-beat to a tuneless song.

You.

No matter how many times Tony and Steve tell you to stop putting your feet on the table, you still do— almost out of spite and with glee. You match Steve in stubbornness and Sam in annoying-ness. You’re just a step behind Natasha when it comes to acting, too. The combination could be lethal if you weren’t such a lawless brat, squandering your talents on petty revenge.

You’re leaned back in the chair, comic book in hand with a silly lopsided smile and your hair tied in the messiest of buns. Strands loop out from the elastic, flop against your ear pathetically. There is a smudge of toothpaste on the corner of your mouth, and when you lick your dry lips, you lick it away too.

“Hey, when are those pannies ready?” You ask over the line of the glossed book.

“Don’t call them panties! And don’t rush perfection!” Sam hollers back.

“Okay…” You try again, “When are those pancakies ready?”

“Pan-cakes.” Steve sends over his shoulder, “Pancakes. One word, two syllables, no ‘y’ at the end.”

“Uh. It’s I and E, sir.” And when Steve sighs in displeasure, you tug the collar of the shirt over the bridge of your nose and hide your snickering inside. You pop a finger in your mouth and flip the page, leaving a wet round print on the edge. Tony is going to kill you when he finds out that you are desecrating his rare collection with spit.

With a snort and shake of his head, Bucky runs his hand through his bangs and walks up next to the table. “Huh.” He mumbles, finger rubbing the sleeve spilling from your shoulder, threatening to flood all the way down to your elbow. The specked brown fabric, slightly pilled is familiar beneath the pads of his thumb.

The very one he was searching for this morning. That timeworn thing, half falling apart because it’s been so many times washed.

“This looks familiar.”

“This?” You ask, eyes wide, “Is it— is it yours? Aw jeez, Barnes. I found it in the laundry room. It just looked so comfy.” One foot scratches the other and the shirt rides up your legs and folds against your stomach. Your rub the fabric against your collarbone, shifting it side to side, and the middle falls in-between your breasts, outlining the shape of you.

He has to bite down on his cheek to stop his next expression, but hums a noise of surprise anyway, “Wonder how it got in there.”

You shrug and blush, give him a fake demure smile before scooting your chair back and heading over to grab food. He follows lazily behind, watches the hem swing at the top of your thighs, a tiny inch of your athletic shorts peeks out underneath. You’re ridiculous, he thinks.

“Yummy yummy yummy, get into into my tummy.” You pull three pancakes onto your plate and Steve glares at the way you use your fingers even though there is a fork in your other hand.

“Your germs are gonna go into my tummy.”

Shocked, you press three bent fingertips to your sternum, “Captain, sir! It’s called a stomach! Two syllables. No Y!”

Steve follows your hand with a wry smile, then the slightest tilt of his head happens as he narrows his eyes on your chest.

“Captain Rogers, are you checking out my tit-tats?”

With a stutter, Steve flushes and turns around, busies himself with getting his own pancakes. Everyone else follows suit and soon enough the dining table is seated with all five, pouring syrup and cutting fluffy stacks into smaller pieces.

To his right, Bucky watches you roll up a pancake like a log and dunk it into a lake of syrup you’ve squirted on your plate. With your mouth full, you take your fork and steal a triangle from him. Syrup dribbles onto your— his shirt.

“We literally have the same food.” he complains.

“But… yours is better; Wilson put more love into yours. I think he put fingernails in mine.”

Across the table, Natasha smirks, “Arsenic, maybe.”

“Actually,” Sam corrects, “It’s rat poison.”

Behind another log dripping with syrup and melted butter, you grin and waggle your eyebrows at Sam, tongue slipping out beneath the roll to lap the dripping syrup away. Bucky kicks you under the table, a quiet reminder to stop being so obnoxious.

Instead of heeding his advice, you shove the rest of the sticky tube into your mouth and choke a little.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, turning away from where you are pounding on the table and coughing. “You dead?”

“Rest in damn pieces.” Sam adds.

Steve continues to stare suspiciously as you press your cheek to the glass surface and catch your breath.

You’re going to drive him crazy, he thinks.

He hides the smile behind a cut of pancake and a swig of coffee. A few more bites and he loads his plate into the dishwasher, returning to his room to take a shower, even thanking Sam for breakfast without an insult. Wilson looks after him curiously but takes the compliment where he can get it.

On his way back to his room, Bucky stops by the familiar door decorated with a single poster you printed off in the lab—a kitschy and poorly edited photograph of Sam with a rainbow-colored clown wig over his head, not even fully covering his hair. Underneath his torso are the words Sam Wilson Local Dumbass.

You had made it after a mission where Sam’s wing clipped your shoulder and your gun went off into a gas tank, blowing out half the floor. It’s been almost half a year and you still haven’t taken the poster down—vowing not to change it until the year passes. Petty revenge, Bucky scoffs to himself.

Bucky pushes past the door and yanks open your closet, staring at the piles of shirts and shorts, mountains of pants and dresses you’ve never worn. On top of each heap are a million pairs of panties, like you just grab your laundry basket and throw it in. You probably do. The doors are always shut probably because you have the object permanence of an infant and if it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind, too.

He laughs when he sees the assorted hangers on the pole, varying sizes and some bent completely out of shape. There are precisely four, neatly aligned next to each other, out of place with the rest of the disordered space.

His hand reaches up to tug on the familiar red Henley he found last week over your torso as you sat watching a movie with Natasha. You had tied an elastic band to the bottom of it, the tiniest sliver of your hip showing beneath.

Next to the red is a gray long-sleeve. Next to that is a cream-colored shirt he hardly wears but you mentioned one night that you liked seeing him in lighter colors. Ironic that you’d steal it from him, then.

At the end of the row, folded neatly over the bar of a plastic green hanger, is a single pair of his black boxers and he nearly hisses when he yanks it off in mortification.

“What?” Your voice calls from the doorway, “They’re clean.”

“Jesus! Why do you have these?”

A wide grin stretches over your mouth, “I wear ‘em to sleep sometimes. Mostly when you’re not here.”

“Darlin’, you got your own clothes.” Bucky smiles, wishing he could genuinely find your antics annoying and not so damn cute. Walking forward, his fingers reach under your shirt where the smooth plane of your stomach starts, other hand moving over your head to push the door close. “It’s hard to keep a secret when you’re so obvious about it.”

You whine, bratty again, and he shuts up the noise with a press of his mouth over yours, “It was only fun for like, two months.” You mutter into his mouth, “But really, Buck. Everyone here is so oblivious that we could probably fuck on the conference table and they wouldn’t notice.”

A strangled breath falls out of his mouth, “We- we haven’t—f—” He can’t even bring himself to say it, because unfortunately, he is so stupidly shy when it comes to you. “D-don’t say f...” His face burns red and he attempts to look at anything else but your devious smile as you tap a finger over the band of his sweatpants.

“Fuck?” You laugh, “Fucky-fuck-fuck, Bucky-Buck-Buck.”

Then, quick as a whip, you leap up and lock your ankles around his waist, knees splayed out to his sides. Automatically, his hands catch underneath your bottom. Three months of secretly dating and all he’s done is kiss you senseless in utility closets. And now you’re saying… Jesus.

You’re going to kill him, he thinks.

Leaning back, you almost pitch out of his hold but then you stop yourself and slowly shrug the shirt—his shirt from your torso. “You wanna, right? Three months, Bucko. You’re playing a slow burn game that I am not good at.” You grin and drop the shirt onto the floor, the sight of your bare skin turning his entire body hot. “Bucky…!” You whine loudly, bouncing in his arms, “Come on!”

He groans at the way you shift against his groin and thinks fuck it. If you kill him, it’ll be a good thing. Rest in damn good pieces. Bucky sighs and tilts forward, pressing his nose to your neck, inhaling the scent of maple syrup. “Baby, you’re so—”

The door slams open and you yelp, falling out of Bucky’s hands and onto the floor on your back. “What the fuck!”

Steve is pointing, wide triumphant grin across his face, “I knew it! I knew that shirt looked familiar!” Bucky pitches forward, covers your bare chest with his body and nearly crushes you underneath.

“You fucking perv, Steve! Stop trying to look at my tit-tats!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve cries, turning around. Bucky kicks the door shut with his foot as you continue to curse out Steve on the other side of the door. With an amused sigh at the way your nose scrunches up as you hurl insults, he presses his nose to your collarbone again, licks away the stain of syrup you’d dropped earlier on yourself.

--

He wakes up in your empty bed around noon, groggy and a little confused as to why you’re suddenly gone. Disappointment and fear sparks in his chest at the thought of his lonely state. Was it bad? Maybe this is how you’re breaking up with him. Fuck—was it that bad?

Bucky slowly gets up, slips on his sweatpants from the earlier morning and scoops his clothes into his arms, mind set on clearing out his belongings from your room if the relationship is truly over, not even bothering to put a shirt on.

The hallway isn’t empty this time—down the walkway you are crouched with something in your hand in front of Natasha’s room, but you pay him no mind. Bucky tucks his clothing under his arm, turning around to close your door before his eyes catch sight of what’s been newly taped to it.

An enormous poster decorates the plain paint. Steve’s face is blown up and touches each corner. Over his eyes you’ve photoshopped two enormous breasts and under his chin are the words: Steve Rogers, Local Pervert.

Bucky sputters before a loud howling laughter tears itself from his throat as he pitches over to hold himself up on the door frame. It’s obscene—the petty revenge, it’s your worst one yet. He’s really going to fall in love with you, he thinks.

Down the hallway, you look over and grin at him, taping yet another poster to someone else’s door. Over your torso, again, as always, is his shirt.

#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes

[brookecuzyes]

The Captain’s Kid —

E.2: The Star-Spangled Man (Part 1)

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier FanFic

Main Masterlist — TCK Masterlist

Summary: We think of the after-life as a peaceful place. A place where there are no worries. When a girl comes back from the dead, so to speak, she has to find a new place in society— which ends up with her becoming a superhero. She’s been trained for the worst, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the things she was going to endure.

Word Count: ≈4.7k

Warnings: a little cursing, fighting, kind of angst(?)

———————————————————————-

“Good morning… America!”

What the hell is this?

Alyxandria was watching the news at her apartment. This new guy was doing an interview. Outside. At his high school. For no reason.

“How did a guy like me end up here?”

“Oh, wait, wait, wait. “A guy like me”? Somebody’s being a bit too humble. For those of you who aren’t familiar with John’s resumé; John Walker: first person in American history to receive three Medals of Honor, ran RS-One missions in counterterrorism and hostage rescue. The government did a study of your body at MIT and you tested off the charts in every measurable category. Speed, endurance, intelligence…”

“Look, here’s the thing, uh, I’m not Tony Stark, I’m not Dr. Banner, okay? I don’t have the flashiest gadgets, I don’t have super strength. But what I do have is guts. Something Captain America always had, always needs to have, and I’m gonna need every ounce of it. Because I got big shoes to fill.”

James wasn’t taking this easy. He was at his apartment watching this interview. He was sitting on the floor instead of, say, a couch. But, it’s James. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s done.

He was in shock, though. He was pissed; pissed at Sam for giving up the shield, pissed at Alyxandria for giving it away. But this guy? He got under James’ skin and they didn’t even know each other.

“Did you know Steve Rogers?” The interview lady asked.

“Well, I was two years out of West Point when Steve came back on the scene. I followed his career very closely as an Avenger. I like to think that I modeled my work after his.”

“So, you’ve always wanted to be a hero?”

“I liked that what I was doing would make people feel safe. Steve Rogers was the kind of guy who could do that. He gave me hope. Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” Walker explained. Alyxandria wasn’t sure about this. No one really felt sure of this.

“Wow…” The interviewer seemed surprised and touched by his words. Was it a real reaction? Eh, who knows. Alyxandria knew what she did and how pissed everyone would be. But, she felt like she was forced to literally give the shield away— her being Steve’s kid and all. Sam, on the other hand? He didn’t have to… so why did he?

——

Sam was at a hangar. When he walked in, the first thing he saw was a poster of Captain America, except it was John Walker instead of Steve Rogers. It said “Cap is Back!” and there were confetti bits all over the background. He stared at it for a second before Torres, who had snuck up behind him, said, “Seems like a good guy. You met him?”

“No,” Sam replied. “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.”

“Yeah. No sweat. I’m just finishing up the checklist. You’ll be all good to go once you land in Munich.” The two of them started walking down the stairs, and Sam stared for a second at the landing when he saw another poster of John. But, he continued to make his way down the stairs with Torres following him when someone said, “You shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

“Good to see you too, Buck.” James was walking towards Sam fast-paced and stopped at the end of the stairs, but Sam just walked past him.

“This is wrong,” James states harshly.

“Hey, hey, look, I’m working, alright? So all this outrage is gonna have to wait,” Sam replied.

“You didn’t know that was gonna happen?” James asked, pointing at another poster of John.

“No, of course I didn’t know that was gonna happen,” Sam replied, before another voice chimes in.

“I don’t think any of us knew that was gonna happen, Sam. I know I didn’t.” It was Alyxandria. The two boys stopped walking to get a good look at her, but didn’t wait— so they just walked away. She speed-walked up to them to catch up with their pace.

“Buck, you think it didn’t break my heart to see them match him out there and call him Captain America? Especially with Alyx being the one to give to him,” Sam said loudly and slowly, turning his head to Alyxandria.

“You think I liked it? That’s my dad’s legacy being handed over to some guy on a silver platter. Or, a vibranium shield,” she argued.

“You had no right to give up the shield, Sam,” James said. Sam stopped in front of James, making him stop walking. Alyxandria stopped with them, too.

“Hey, this is what you're not gonna do. You’re not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It’s over, Bucky. Besides, I have bigger things to deal with now.”

“What could be bigger than this?” James said, solemnly. Sam pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“This guy,” he said. “His connections with rebel organizations all over Eastern and Central Europe, and he’s strong. Too strong.”

“And?” James asked.

“Well, he’s been connected to this online group called the Flag Smashers. Now, Redwing traces them to a building somewhere outside of Munich. So that’s where I’m going.”

“Well, I don’t trust Redwing,” James shot back.

“Why not?” Alyxandria asked.

“I don’t know, he’s Bucky. Look, you don’t have to trust Redwing, but I’mma go see if he’s right. ‘Cause I have a feeling they might be a part of the Big Three.” Sam answered.

“What Big Three?” James asked.

“The Big Three,” Sam answered, as if he should know what he’s talking about.

“What Big Three?” Alyxandria repeated.

“Androids, aliens, and wizards,” Sam replied.

“That’s not a thing,” James said.

“That’s definitely a thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Alyxandria said.

“Every time we fight, we fight one of the three,” Sam said.

“So, who’re you fighting now, Gandalf?” James asked. Alyxandria snickered while Sam was left confused.

“How do you know about Gandalf?” Sam asked.

“I read The Hobbit in 1937 when it first came out,” James replied nonchalantly.

“So, you see my point!”

“No, I don't. There are no wizards.”

“Doctor Strange,” Sam said.

“Is a sorcerer,” James finished.

“Oh, aah. Ahaha. A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat. Think about it, right? I’m right. I just came up with that. It’s crazy,” Sam said, proud of himself. James looked pissed. “But that’s not the point. These guys aren’t magical. They use brute force just like you, the incredibly annoying guy in front of me with the staring problem.” Sam started making his way to the plane.

“I’m coming with you,” James said, following Sam.

“No, you’re not,” Sam answered.

“I’m coming, too!” Alyxandria said, catching up with James.

——

“One minute to drop-off, Sam,” Torres announced. Sam and James were sitting on either side of the plane, staring straight into the other’s soul. Alyxandria was standing next to a small cargo box, and so was Joaquin. He was teaching her some card games that she’d never played before.

The two boys continued staring at each other when Sam leaned forward a bit, making James do the same thing— however, he played it off cool and relaxed back in his seat, sitting up straight. Sam abruptly got up and James followed behind him.

“Do you have a six?” Alyxandria asked Joaquin, holding cards up to her face and away from him so he couldn’t see them. He studied his cards for a minute before giving her a sly smile.

“Go Fish.” He set his cards down and opened the hatch.

“So, what’s our plan?” James asked Sam. He ignored James and put his comm in his ear.

“Great. So, no plan.”

Torres was standing next to the open hatch and yelled, “Thirty seconds!” Alyxandria walked over to him and stood on the other side of the hatch to see outside.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck, Alyx.” Sam said.

“No, you can’t call me that.” James replied harshly, sitting down.

“Why not? That’s what Steve called you.” Sam shot back.

“Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan.”

“Fifteen seconds to drop!” Torres yelled. Sam turned away from James and started walking towards Torres and said, “I have a plan.”

“Really?” James asked. “What is it?” However, no reply came from Sam, as he just jumped out the hatch and started flying. Torres stuck his head out the opening to watch him in awe. Alyxandria smiled and said, “That’s so sick.”

“Great,” James mumbled. “Where’s the chute?”

“We’re at 200 feet. It’s too low for a chute,” Torres replied. James walked over to the hatch quickly and said, “I don’t need it anyway.” He looked out the opening for a second.

“You sure about that?” Alyxandria asked him. James looked over to her.

“Yeah,” he replied. He tore off his left sleeve, revealing his metal arm and jumped out, yelling on his way down. Alyxandria stuck her head now, concerned for the man. Torres looked shocked.

“Is he gonna be okay?” He asked.

“He’s a super-soldier, Joaquin. He’ll be just fine,” she replied. She was somewhat unsure of it but trusted that he’d be okay.

——

“Where’s the guy?” James asked. Sam was holding up his wrist which was showing a live feed of what Redwing was capturing.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “I think they’re smuggling weapons, though.”

“Well, I think you could be right,” Sam hummed in response before James continued, “But, there’s only one way to find out.” He turned his head to where the people in question were.

“I see a clear path. I say we take it,” he said. He started walking over there before Sam stopped him.

“We’re not assassins,” he said. James stared at him coldly.

“I’ll see you inside… or not,” he replied harshly, walking away quickly.

Sam smiled. “Hey, come on man. I’m just messing with you. Come back!” He explained somewhat quietly so the people wouldn’t hear him.

Sam had Redwing fly over James.

“Look at you. All stealthy,” Sam said over the comms. “A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther.”

“It’s actually White Wolf,” James replied nonchalantly.

“Huh?” Asked a confused Sam, though he never got an explanation.

“All right, I’m inside. Therefore, way ahead of you,” James subtly bragged. “It’s not great, but very doable.” Then, out of nowhere, Sam appeared next to James. He was confused as to when and how he got there.

“Hello. How are you?” James joked.

“Good. What did I miss? Nothing.” Sam replied.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“No, wait.”

“I got a vibranium arm. I can take them,” James said.

“And I can fly. Who gives a shit? Wait. I want to see where they’re going.”

“There’s two people,” James explained, looking back at Sam.

“You only see two?”

“That’s what I saw.”

“Lemme see what Redwing sees.”

“Alright,” James said.

“Lemme see. Let’s see what Redwing… Oh, look at that. How many people you see now? One, two… Oh, here it comes again.” James sighed. “Four. Five.”

“Fine, five. So, they’re strong. Whatever,” James agreed. The people were lifting up the boxes that the average person wouldn’t be able to carry, since it would be way too heavy.

“Alright, let’s go,” James said. He started walking over to them before Sam grabbed him.

“No, no, wait,” he said. Something fell and made a loud clattering noise which echoed throughout the whole warehouse they were in, meaning the Flag Smashers heard. Sam was cursing a bit and the two of them hid behind the racks they were previously standing behind. The people turned around and looked for anyone, but didn’t investigate too deeply. James and Sam stayed extremely quiet as the group turned around, getting back to what they were doing.

“All right, let’s move!” A woman said. Some of them started hopping in the back of the semi-trucks and one of them closed the doors. He tapped the back of the truck to signal that he was down. Sam was using Redwing to get a look inside of the truck and someone sitting down in one of them.

“There’s an eighth person. I think they have a hostage,” Sam said. James looked at him and quickly started running towards the truck, Sam soon following behind him (though he started flying instead).

James, begging a super-soldier and all, was able to run extremely quickly up against the trucks. He jumped on the back of the truck that had the hostage and unlocked the doors. He flung the door open and went inside. He started walking slowly, looking at all of the boxes around him.

“They’re stealing medicine. Vaccines,” he said to Sam over the comms. Someone peaked their head out the side of one of the boxes they were hiding behind. James noticed them there. It was a girl, and she slowly stuck her head back.

“Hi,” James said to the girl, who seemed scared. She came out from behind the box and revealed herself to him.

“Bucky, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?” Sam asked him. James turned around and replied, “Found the hostage.” He turned back around to the girl.

“You okay?” He asked. The girl didn’t say anything, but started smiling crazily.

After an explosion sound, James flew out of the back of the truck, landing in the windshield of the other truck. He grabbed onto the top of it and yelled, “Shit!” The girl put a mask on her face, the same one that guy was wearing in Switzerland. James was caught by surprise when two guys lifted him up to the very top of the truck. The girl jumped from one truck to the other to help out. James tried fighting them off, but these guys were really strong. Two of them had James by both arms so he couldn’t use them, while the girl punched him hard. Redwing flew in to help and started shooting at them. However, the girl jumped up, grabbed Redwing, and smashed in half on her knee.

“I always wanted to do that,” James said, still recovering from that one punch, until one of the guys punched him again— which didn't help matters at all.

Falcon flew in holding someone and placed them on top of the truck. He then spun and kicked the girl. She quickly got up and started attacking him. Falcon started kicking again. He tried to punch her, too, but she blocked it.

“Good of you to join the fight, Sam!” James yelled, shaking off the guys holding him down.

“Hey, I’m here too, dipshit,” Alyxandria said. The girl threw the Falcon to the other truck, someone grabbing onto him when he landed. He tried fighting her off, but she knocked him to the ground. Her and someone else were holding him down while a guy stood above him getting ready to kick him. However, he wasn’t able to go through with it when something hit him in the chest. It was the shield. The new Captain America ahead arrived in a helicopter. He jumped out and onto the girl, and she flew to the other side of the truck she was on. She stood up to get him again, but Blaze put her hand on her shoulder.

“Think again, hotshot,” she said, kicking the girl’s feet, which knocked her off balance. She quickly got up again and started fighting Blaze. Another guy jumped out of the helicopter, though no one knew who he was. He was holding onto a rope and swung by and kicked the girl.

“I had that,” Blaze mumbled. The girl fell off the side and was holding on to the top edges of the truck. Captain America threw his shield at another person who was holding Falcon down, allowing him to get up and take control of the fight. Cap threw his shield again, but this time towards someone James was fighting off. James bent back some so he wouldn’t get hit. The guy who kicked the girl in mid-air had now landed on the truck, giving the Captain a little arm-bump.

“Sam! John Walker, Captain America,” he introduced across trucks. He saluted slightly.

“Lemar Hoskins,” the other guy shouted.

“Looks like you guys could use some help.” The girl had jumped up again and started towards Walker. He reacted quickly and hit her with the shield. He threw the shield again towards the guy James was going at, and James caught the shield when it bounced off the guy. Walker ran up and grabbed it. Same tried to fly up, but was held down by some of the guys on his truck. Blaze looked over and quickly jumped onto that truck to help him out. She punched one of the guys as hard as she could, knocking them down. James had also jumped over to help out. He got one guy to fall off the side a bit, but he was holding on the edge.

Blaze was going at the same guy since they got back up, and she finally realized how strong these people actually were. She tried not to lose focus on what she was doing and kicked his shin so he’d fall onto his knee. She then kicked his forehead, which sent him falling back, and stood over him. She bent down quickly and punched him in the face, which left him down for a few seconds more. When she stood up and turned around, she saw James and another guy being thrown off the trucks. Thankfully, they both held on to the side of the truck right next to them. That is, until James’ metal arm started sliding down the side of the truck, leaving him hanging insanely close to the road. James, still holding on to the side of the truck, rolled under it to cover himself. The other guy was climbing down and then started to kick at the metal piece James was holding onto.

Falcon, still on top of the truck, turned around and saw a road sign coming at him and the girl he was fighting. He opened his wings and flew up, hoping for the sign to hit her. However, she ran right through it, small pieces of the sign breaking off when she did so. The Falcon landed back down and waited for the girl to get her, but she rammed him and he flew off. So, he deployed his wings again and got away from her. He tried flying in between the trucks, but the one on the left saw him through the side-mirror and he violently turned the steering wheel towards the truck next to him, blocking the entrance for the Falcon. He fell back and flew up and around. He went over the top of a car when he realized it was there, then flew back down towards the road. He looked over and saw James hanging off the side, struggling with the guy kicking him off.

“That little girl kicked your ass,” Sam remarked. James did nothing but yell at him, when the guy kicked him just enough for his metal arm to lose grip. He grabbed the road as support and sparks were flying off. Falcon compressed everything together and flew underneath the truck and grabbed James as fast as he could. They landed in a field and started rolling down a small hill for quite a few seconds. James landed on top of Sam.

“Could have used that shield,” he said, somewhat angrily.

“Get off of me,” Sam strained. He threw James off to the side.

“Those were all super-soldiers, Sam,” James said quietly, recovering from the fight.

“I know. You’re welcome, by the way.” Sam replied, his hand on James’ shoulder. Out of nowhere, a figure walked over and above them. The sun was behind them, so it made them look dark, and their features were heard to see.

“As hot as it was to watch you guys roll down that hill together, we need to get moving,” the figure said. They leaned down and the boys could see who it was: Alyxandria. Of course it was. No one else would make a comment like that. “You two got your asses beat so bad. Thought I’d have to call in the big guns.” She held both of her arms out to either guy, they both took it, and she helped lift them to their feet.

“Walker isn’t ‘big guns’?” James retorted.

“Not in my book, at least,” she replied, looking over to the road and back at them. “C’mon, let’s get moving. We gotta figure out what those Flag Smasher guys are up to next.”

——

“Sorry about Redwing,” James apologized.

“No, you’re not,” Sam shot back.

Sam, James, and Alyxandria were all walking down a road together, side-by-side.

“What’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours?” Sam questioned.

“It’s computing,” James replied, not even giving a second glance. Alyx and Sam chuckled at the statement.

“You know what?” Sam said. “I can actually see it. I can see the gears turning. Oh, they’re malfunctioning, shutting down. Yep, they’re on fire.”

“We gotta figure out where the serum’s coming from,” James said, interrupting Sam’s imagination.

“Yeah. And how in the hell after 80 years are there eight super-soldier runnin’ loose?”

“Better question,” Alyx interjected, “why are there eight super-soldier running loose. James, you saw it with Red Skull; that shit gets into the wrong hands and everything goes south.”

A car started pulling up behind them and honked at the trio. It stopped a few feet ahead of them. Walker, Hoskins, and a driver were all in there.

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” John asked the three, opening the back door for them. However, instead of getting in, they continued walking forwards. “Okay,” he mumbled. He closed the door and told the driver to keep going. He started driving slowly so they could be close to the group.

“Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three, so…”

“Aliens, androids, or wizards?” Sam asked.

“Pretty sure,” Walker replied.

“There’s no such thing as wizards,” James said. Alyx patted his back, knowing how pissed he was at that.

“Alright, then it’s aliens, or androids,” Walker said.

“Or super-soldiers,” Sam added.

“Shit, super-soldier, for real?” Hoskins asked. Sam replied with a ‘yeah’ before Walker started talking again.

“Wow. Alright, well, then we gotta work together.” He sounded somewhat enthusiastic but he wasn’t pulling it off.

“That’s not happening,” James responded.

“I think we stand a much better chance if we all just-“ John tried convincing them but was cut off.

“Just ‘cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean you’re Captain America,” James stated as truthfully as could be.

“Look, I’ve done the work, okay?” Walker replied.

“You ever jumped on top of a grenade?”

“Yeah. Actually I have. Four times. It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long story, but any- Look, it’s twenty miles to the airport. You guys need a ride. Guys. Gary, stop. Get in,” he said, opening the door once again. The three stopped walking and stood there for a second before looking at each other for an answer. They eventually decided to just get in.

“Okay, so we got eight super-soldiers on a bulk supply run,” John stated. “Why?”

“Wish I could tell you, Walker,” Alyxandria responded, remembering what she said before he pulled up. “James said they had vaccines, which I’m guessing is the serum?”

“They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip,” Sam replied. “Maybe they’re just trying to help.”

“They had a funny way of showing it,” James said.

“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record. No offense,” John said to James. He just stared at him.

“We need to figure out where they’re going,” Sam said. “How’d you track ‘em here? The Flag Smashers?”

“Uh, no, we didn’t track them, we tracked you, uh, through Redwing,” Lemar answered, leaving Sam flabbergasted.

“You hacked my tech?”

“Sorry,” John said, chuckling. “It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property. Kind of the government.” He pointed between him and his buddy, and Alyxandria scoffed quietly. That’s when John noticed how long James had been staring at him.

“Does he always just stare like that?”

“You get used to it,” Sam and Alyxandria said at the same time. She looked to John, who had turned to her now, and gave him a small, sarcastic smile.

“Okay, look,” John started, clearing his throat. “You know, things have gotten kind of, uh…”

“Chaotic,” Hoskins finished.”

“Yeah, well, the GRC, they’re doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post-Blip.”

“Like what?” Alyx asked.

“Reactivating citizenship, social security, healthcare. Basically, just managing resources for the refugees who were displaced by the return,” Hoskins explained.

“The Global Repatriation Council does all that, I get that. So why exactly are you two here?” Questioned Sam.

“Well, they provide the resources and we keep things stable.”

“Yeah, violent revolutionaries aren’t usually good for anyone’s cause,” Walker said.

“Usually said by the people with the resources,” Sam shot back.

“Well, we got a lot of resources. If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could-“

“No,” James interrupted.

“Look, we could really use your help. I mean, between Falcon, Alyxandria, and Winter Soldier-“ John got interrupted, again, but this time with a kick on his leg. He let out a small whine and looked up. Alyxandria had kicked him. She knew he wasn’t Winter Soldier anymore, and she knew how much it pained James to be called the Winter Soldier.

“Sorry, slipped. And it’s Blaze.”

“R-right,” he replied, rubbing his shin. “But, Alyx- Blaze, sorry… you over anyone should understand what I’m trying to do here. You’re Steve Rogers' daughter. You knew him better than anyone, and you knew his legacy.”

“And you took that legacy,” she shot back. “And I sure as hell had no say in that, and I’m his kid. Like James said, the answer is no.”

“Hey, I got mad respect for you. But, y’all were getting your asses kicked ‘til we showed up,” Hoskins said.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you both ended up falling off of that truck,” Blaze replied.

“Who are you?” James asked Lemar.

“Lemar Hoskins.”

“Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins,” Sam told him.

“I’m Battlestar, John’s partner.”

“‘Battlestar’?” James repeated. “Stop the car!”

Gary, the driver, put the car at a stop.

“Look, I-I get it, okay? I get the attitude, I do,” John said. “You didn’t think that the shield was gonna end up here, I get it, Bucky. Same with you, Blaze. And I’m.. I’m not trying to be Steve. I’m not trying to replace Steve. I’m just trying to be the best Captain America I can be. That’s it. It’d be a whole lot easier if I had Cap’s wingmen on my side.” Sam just scoffed.

“It’s always that last line,” he said before getting out. Blaze started following him but felt someone grab her wrist.

“Blaze, understand that I’m doing what I think is best. You should join our team, or try to convince your guys to join as well. Come on, it only makes the most sense,” John pleaded with her. She stared at him— not as intensely as James would, be enough. She looked back and forth between him and Hoskins. Sam had stayed at the door of the car instead of walking off like James when he realized what was going on.

“I’m sure you’re a good man, John… but I can’t,” she answered softly. He gave a disappointed look on his face and released his grip on her. She quickly pulled her hand back and hopped out of the car. Sam put his hand on her back and started walking with her, looking behind him to those in the car. Eventually, Sam and Alyx caught up with James, who was very far from them. Most of the walk was in silence; James was processing the stupidity, Alyx was thinking about John having the shield instead of her father, and Sam had his mind mainly on the Flag Smashers.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe things could get worse… she thought to herself.

———————————————————————-5/29/21

#bucky barnes #tfatws #sam wilson #captain america #sebastian stan #marvel #anthony mackie #john walker #wyatt russell #oc character x marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel x oc #oc character #marvel oc #tfawts fanfic

[valkyriesryde]

The Trail We Blaze

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a trip down memory lane through his old home and no one is quite sure how he’s taking it.

Warnings: angst, mostly fluff, dad!bucky because thats a warning in and of itself

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: This is for @this-kitten-is-smitten ‘s writing challenge! I’m so sorry its so late but thank you so much for letting me take part hun! Love you lots and lots!! My prompt was The Trail We Blaze from The Road to El Dorado!

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

‘Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.’

“You always end up here,” her arm linked through his, her hand finding his as they stood and looked at the exhibition, the cut out of Bucky, the poster of the Howling Commandos. “It’s nice to know you’ve gotten prettier with age.” Bucky chuckles and his head dips as he squeezes her hand and pulls her closer to him, kissing her temple.

“You saying I wasn’t pretty darlin’?” His eyes flick to the little girl playing with the puzzle to the side laughing. 

“Would have you in any lifetime James.” He blushes at her, his smile shy, not yet quite used to her complimenting him no matter how long it's been. “Come on, we still have the wildlife section.”

Memories played around Bucky as he stood in the foyer of the home. It filled with furniture, dinner parties and happiness. With dancing in the kitchen at 2am and flour thrown across the dining table while they made homemade pizza. It faded in and out, the kitchen now bare and the dining table carried out by Steve and Sam. Bucky watched it all disappear before him, he held a box of plates in his hands, carrying it out to the truck and walking back in to make sure there was nothing left.

“Most of the intelligence communities doesn’t believe he exists, the ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He is credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years.”

“So he’s a ghost story.” 

Steve and Natasha stood outside the home waiting for Bucky to come out. The car packed, the truck full, all they needed was him. She spun around the lawn, laughing along with Wanda until she saw Steve’s worried face. 

“He’s fine Steve, give him a few minutes to take it all in, make sure we didn’t forget anything.” It’d been ten or so minutes and he hadn’t come out yet. Bucky had made his way upstairs by this point. His fingers trailed over the walls as he stepped down the hallway where the pictures used to hang. He stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom and looked in, not quite able to step inside because he didn’t want to disturb what was happening. 

He saw himself, scrubbing his hands in the sink in the connected bathroom. His body rocking with sobs as he scrubbed at the metal of his fingers in his underwear. The curtains were drawn and he looked back to the bed to see her sleeping figure getting out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom.

“Don’t do it,” he whispered watching her say his name. He watched her reach out for his hand and he flinched as the image of his soapy hand grabbed her throat and she yelped out. Bucky jumped forward to the middle of the room, watching himself lurch back and tumble into the wall of the shower. She crouched down to him and softly talked to him, Bucky watched her bring him back to the sink and finish washing his hands. He watches her pull him back to bed, stepping out of their way as they made their way and got in. She pulled him into her and pulled the covers right up to his chin, tucking him in causing him to chuckle slightly against her. 

Bucky smiled to himself, stepping back into the hallway and walking towards the end rooms.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.” Steve glanced up at Bucky from the stencils he held in his hand. 

“It always ends in a fight.” Bucky replied with a smile. “The decision isn’t up to us.”

“She’s wrong though!” 

“She’s the boss!” He yelled back. “We’re just going back and forth pal we gotta get this done, I promised I’d do it two days ago.” He knelt down and popped open the paint can.

“That’s on you jerk.” Steve laughed at his friend.

“Shut it punk.”

Bucky skipped down the steps slightly ready for the adventure that awaited him. So far, this house and the memories he held inside it were some of the happiest he’d had since everything had happened. The growth that he experienced in this house are steps that he’ll always be thankful for. This place made him happy. Even all the fights, the yelling, the crying that occurred in it still made him happy. It reminded him of how far they’d come. 

He was excited for the new step. Excited for the new house, more rooms for his family to stay, more room to play. A bigger backyard for Alpine to explore. A part of him was scared and nervous. He didn’t like leaving it all behind, didn’t like the feeling that he might forget the memories that this house held. He had to remind himself that he’d written all the best ones down. That he still had his family to make more memories with. 

As he stepped off the last step and stood in the foyer Bucky did a 360 of his surroundings, ending at the front door which flew open.

“DADDY HURRY UP!”

“DAAAAAAD!!” Small arms wrap around Bucky’s legs and his hips. The small boy, only just turned seven, in blue with a brown mop of hair scowls up at him. “Uncle Stevie is getting grumpy at you!” 

“Yea he says if you don’t hurry up we’re gonna leave you here,” the girl, who reminds Bucky too much of his sister in looks and his wife in personality pulls at his shirt as he lets out a groan.

“Oh yea? What’d your Ma say?” he asks, letting them drag him to the door.

“She told us to get your ass!” 

“Oi George none of that language.” Bucky reaches down and lifts George up and onto his hip.

“No Dad that’s what she said.” Callie deadpans and walks back out the front door that’s still wide open. 

“Oh, well she’s gotta put a dollar in the jar then doesn’t she?” He yells after her and George perks up in his arms.

“That’s what I said!” He pipes up.

“Right you two stop talking smack and hurry up. The sooner we get to the house the sooner we can eat!” She stands in the doorway with her arms crossed but a smile on her face that Bucky immediately gives back. 

“Thought you said we were getting take out babe!” He gives her a cheeky wink and she steps towards him, running her fingers through his hair that has become disheveled after the hard day’s work. 

“We still gotta leave to get it,” she smirks.

“Hmm guess you’re right,” and Bucky leans forward to kiss her softly, they both smile in it, short and sweet and rudely interrupted by George squirming in Bucky’s arms.

“Ew let me down before you kiss!”

“How am I gonna kiss you though!” Bucky shouts as George continues to try and get out of his arms and then runs off as soon as his feet hit the ground leaving Bucky’s arms free to hold her close. 

“You alright?” She whispers, her fingers back in his hair and scraping against his scalp like he loves so much. 

“Yea just reminiscing, you know how I get,” Bucky shrugs off the question, the aching of fear and sadness from leaving everything this house has given him inches into his gut with the bad thoughts that it all might fall apart without it.

“Bucky,” she presses him, knowing how he gets. 

“I know, I’m good I promise. I love you. I love this house. I love what we built inside it. I’m gonna miss it.” But there’s that underlying fear in his voice that’s just for her and no one else. It’s his way of telling her he’s a little scared but all in all he’s okay, he knows it’s going to be okay. And of course, he loves her. 

“Me too, it’s not being taken away from us though. It’s still here and we still have what we built in it.” She kisses his cheek and he holds her close against him, tightening his grip in a way that lets her know that he’s happy, he’s grateful for everything she’s done and given him. 

“I know, I’m so happy,” Bucky whispers in her hair, “you make me so happy.” She smiles back and slowly pulls away, holding his hands out between them.

“Come on daddy we gotta go before Steve blows his top.” She laughs and Bucky groans but follows nonetheless.

“Please don’t call me that.”

~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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