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antiquarianfics · 5 months

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A Slip of the Tongue

a/n: how would y’all like an un-proofread one shot i wrote? ‘twas inspired by someone else’s story with a similar concept, but i lost it. :( anyhoo. i made you some content.

warnings: brief mention of death, otherwise none.

masterlist

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“Me and Nina played on the swings today!” Your daughter, Ellie, tells you as you strap her into her car seat.

“Yeah? That so?” You ask. This is one of your favorite parts of your day; that is, listening to Ellie tell you about her day at school.

“Yeah! Nina is new. Her daddy got a new job and had to move them here. She speaks 2 languages!”

“Wow! That’s really cool, baby. What other language does she speak?”

“I think she said… Um. Something that started with an R.” Ellie scrunches her face up in consideration.

“Russian?” You ask, finishing buckling her in. You close the door and move around the car, getting in yourself.

“Yeah, I think,” Ellie replies.

“Did you know Bucky speaks Russian?” You ask her, sharing the tidbit about your boyfriend with your daughter.

Ellie loves Bucky, and he her. When Ellie’s father passed away, you truly never thought you would move on, and it killed you Ellie would grow up without a father. Then, you met Bucky, and he was wonderful. It was a complete meet-cute. You ran into him—literally—in a coffee shop 5 minutes away from Ellie’s school. You were in a rush, trying to get your coffee, your belongings, and your bearings to go pick up Ellie, and in your frantic fumbling, you crashed into a stranger who, rather than getting upset by being hit and drenched in a late, simply steadied you by the arms and asked if you were alright.

Bucky insisted on buying you a new coffee because “It’s my fault for being on your way, Doll. Besides, my ma’d kill me if she knew I passed up an opportunity to ask a pretty woman on a date.”

The admission took you by surprise, and Bucky later revealed it took him by surprise, too. Something about you, he said, brought out his old 40s confidence. He didn’t worry about scaring you like he would anyone else. In fact, he said, in that moment, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier, and he never was. He was just Bucky.

That day, though, you’d declined, telling him you had to pick your daughter up from school, but you quickly amended your statement to let him know you were at that very coffee shop everyday for an hour before you picked up Ellie. “So,” you had said, “if my being a single mom doesn’t scare you, you can buy me that make-up latte another time.” And, by god, Bucky Barnes was at that coffee shop then next day, waiting with your latte.

Fast forward to today, and Bucky practically lives with you and Ellie. He still has his apartment, but he spends 6 out of 7 days at your house. It’s so natural, though, you wish he’d just ditch the apartment and make it official. After all, he is an excellent roommate. He does the dishes, cleans up after himself, doesn’t hog the blankets, and—most importantly—he is fantastic with Ellie. He plays with her, he reads her bedtime stories, he cuts her food for her, and so much more. He is everything to you and Ellie.

So, when you tell Ellie that Bucky also speaks more than one language, you can’t help but grin when she rambles the rest of the car ride home about how she is going to ask him about that language he speaks—what language does Bucky speak again, Mama?—and then she is going to learn it too so she can show Nina.

Ellie’s rambling lasts all the way home, into the house, and into the living room where she drops her backpack on the ground and runs to Bucky, jumping in his lap with no warning. Bucky grunts at the impact, but he smiles fondly at the young girl.

“Hey, El,” he greets. “How was school?”

“Bucky, I made a new friend! She’s so cool. Did you know she speaks 2 languages! That’s really cool. I can only speak 1 language. Her daddy got a new job, so they came here. She’s my new best friend. I don’t remember what language she speaks, though.”

Ellie speaks a million miles a minute as she tries to fill Bucky in on her day. Bucky makes eye contact with you over her head and you merely smile and shrug, making Bucky grin.

“Russian,” you offer, as you move to sink down onto the couch next to your boyfriend and your daughter.

“Russian!” Ellie exclaims, nodding her head excitedly. “Mama said you speak Russian, Bucky. Do you speak Russian?”

“I do,” Bucky confirms, laughing at the amazed look that crosses Ellie’s face.

“Say something! Say something!” She begs.

“Yeah, Bucky, say something in Russian!” You join in on Ellie’s begging with a laugh.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки,” Bucky says, chuckling to himself as he watches Ellie’s amazed face.

“Wow,” she says, eyes transfixed on Bucky.

You laugh. “Yeah, wow,” you confirm, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Bucky’s cheek before standing to go to the kitchen.

You make it just across the room when you stop dead in your tracks, turning to make eye contact with Bucky and attempt to gauge his reaction to Ellie’s words.

“I can’t wait to tell Nina tomorrow that my daddy speaks Russian, too,” Ellie says, lying her head on Bucky’s chest.

You and Bucky make eye contact across the room, and you hold a silent conversation.

Bucky’s eyes are widened in shock, but he raises an eyebrow at you as if to ask, “Did she just call me her daddy?”

You shrug, mouth slightly agape. Ellie has never called Bucky her daddy before, but it doesn’t surprise you. Bucky is always around, and he acts like a father figure regardless of your relationship with him. So, you say nothing, just shrug your shoulders and hope Bucky gets the message:

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell her not to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bucky shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t mind. Really likes it even.

Finally he speaks, “Yeah, tell her your daddy speaks Russian. I’ll even teach you some if you want.”

Ellie shoots up in Bucky’s lap, grabbing his face between her hands, and seriously begging him to follow through with his promise immediately.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She exclaims. “What did you say a minute ago?” She asks, assigning her first Russian lesson.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки. It means, “Did you two know I love you? My beautiful, silly girls.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky x fem!reader

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world-of-aus · 1 month

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Navy - there are no words except for..

Give Me One More

It's past closing hours, the gyms lights dimmed for the night.

It's only the two of you.

You catch your reflection in the large mirror that span across the wall, you don't recognize yourself. Your hair is un-tamed, lips parted on a choked back moan, chest heaving beneath your sports bra, fingers curled into the leather bench as the pleasure between your legs builds again. Your bottom half is bare to the cool air of the room, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders as he try's to pull another from you.

"Give me one more, sweetheart, c'mon now."

Always just one more.

You keep your eyes on the mirror drinking in the muscles of his shirtless back, drawing up the lengths of his bulging biceps. Gaze only leaving your disheveled form in the mirror to seek out the eyes of the man buried between your legs.

He's managed to steal your breath further, eyes glimmering dark with hunger in the dim light, wet lips tugging into a small smirk as he holds your gaze. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bench, fingers joining into the mix as he pushes them into your wet heat. Your head falls back, his name is on your lips in a silent prayer, "mmm that's it," he murmurs pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, "feels good doesn't it?"

Your hand leaves the bench to curl around his shortened locks, tugging, drawing a low groan from the man on his knees for you.

“B - please."

"I've got you sweetheart, I'll get you there."

He had been getting your there for the past 10 minutes, each time better than the last.

You revel in the build of pleasure, as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. Your pleasure climbing till it's at its peak again. He pulls a drawn out moan from your lips, as he buries his head between your legs once more, fingers never ceasing their rhythm. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, body heaving as the intense pleasure washes over you. He doesn’t stop, not that he's stopped after the last three he's pulled from you. No, he works you through it, his tongue all too eager to collect your sweet nectar. Your vision goes white as you clench around him fingers pulling at his hair.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out thighs trembling as you wind down, Bucky chuckles as he moves up your body kissing up your sweat slicked skin. He looms over you eyes hooded with lust, a small smile on his glistening lips. Your hands come up wrapping themselves around the back of his neck pulling him down to you. Your lips press against his, a groan falling from your lips as you taste yourself on his sinful tongue.

He thrust his cock against your naked sex, "think you can give me one more?"

#bucky barnes drabble #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #i disappear now #okay byeeeeeee #love you <3

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biteofcherry · 10 months

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part of the Summer Entrées triptych

Bucky Barnes x female reader

warnings: Bucky being a menace; inappropriate use of an inflatable flamingo; oral;

Bucky’s low huff of laughter seems to caress you better than faint brushes of summer breeze. The air is thick and heavy with heat, the only soothing coming from the cool surface of the pool.

You’re sprawled on a huge, inflatable pink flamingo, the plastic squeaking with the tiniest of your movements; but the heat has melted away any of your will to be active, so you stopped moving long ago. Feet dipping in the water, eyes closed behind your sunglasses, you float atop the ridiculous bird.

Whenever the flamingo is about to move further across the pool, Bucky gently pulls it back over, so your conversation could carry on without either of you having to shout.

He is the only reason you lift your head now and then, just so you could steal a glance at his perfect form sitting on the edge of the pool.

Wearing nothing, but black and blue shorts, Bucky leans back on his elbows. His sunglasses reflect the vibrant blue skies, though personally you think it’s still less beautiful than the cool shade of Bucky’s irises.

The sun likes him a lot; licking his skin with perfect strokes of golden tan that only seems to define his muscles further. His dark hair - wet not long ago, from the short swim he took - is already dry, inviting you to comb your fingers through it. You want to scratch his beard, too; feel him hum against your lips as you do it mid kiss.

He’d taste a little bitter now, from the drink he made himself. You’re not sure where he gets it from, but Bucky mixes really good drinks. But only sour or bitter ones, steering away from your preferred sweet.

Bucky always says he has you if he wants to indulge in some sweetness.

Each time he tells you that, you laugh and call him corny.

“Think I need a chaser with this one,” Bucky’s voice holds a tint of impatience.

“Now? You’ve already downed most of it.” You reply, eyes fixed on a tiny smudge of cloud dispersing across the sky.

“Mhm,” he hums in reply then you hear a soft splash of water, assuming he pulled his legs out of the pool to go for another drink.

What you’re not expecting is a warm hand clenching around your ankle and yanking you (along with your big flamingo) over to where the steps into the pool lead.

Your skin burns as it un-sticks from the pink plastic when you lift your upper body to look at what’s Bucky doing.

He’s not sitting on the edge as you thought, having stepped onto the stairs and sitting down on the second top one. Water there barely reaches his stomach in a sitting position, but as he pulls your floaty over it proves to be perfect height for his face to be in line with your hips.

“Need something sweet on my tongue now, doll,” he says and though you can’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, you’re acutely aware of his gaze trained on you hungrily.

“Have you gone mad?” You gasp when Bucky tugs on the string tying your bikini bottoms. Yet you make no move to actually stop him.

“Yeah.” Bucky flashes you a wolfish grin, ripping away the scrap of fabric and tossing it somewhere across the pool. “It’s all the sun. And all of your hotness.”

Flamingo squeaks beneath you as Bucky parts your thighs and yanks you to the edge of the floatie, so he can have your sweet pussy exactly where he wants it.

“Was thinking about tasting you all over for the past hour. I was waiting for you to get off that damn thing, but you seem to be glued to it.” He growls in dismay. “So I had to take matters into my own hands.”

You gasp at the first stroke of Bucky’s warm, wet tongue between your folds. It is his way to start his torment, a broad lick and then the tip of his tongue dancing over your clit until you squirm.

You stretch one of your arms above your head, fingers gripping the handle attached to the flamingo; with your other hand you reach for Bucky’s hair, grasping a fistful.

Your foot splashes water when you kick helplessly as Bucky’s mouth starts devouring you in an ungodly way. As if he was starved and your cunt was the juiciest, most ripe fruit.

One of Bucky’s arms curls over your abdomen, keeping you in place, the other holds the inflated wing of the flamingo, so the stupid floatie doesn’t move away from your writhing. When his tongue switches from circling your clit to slithering inside your fluttering opening, you have to let go of Bucky’s hair to clamp a hand over your mouth.

There’s a tall, thick fence of bushes providing security and privacy from neighbors’ eyes, but if you were loud (as you tended to be with Bucky) they wouldn’t need a visual to know what was going on.

You almost kick Bucky when he sucks on your engorged bundle, tipping you over the edge.

His tongue eases some, licking over your folds in soothing laps as your trembles subside, but then he increases the pace anew. His beard has already caused delicious abrasions on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your mound, now he deliberately rocks his chin between your soaked folds.

When Bucky suddenly splashes cold water across your heated skin, you shriek; but the contrast of the cool drops shocking your skin with the warm mouth sucking you senseless, rips another orgasm from you.

You’re panting, your head pounding so much you fear getting a heat stroke. It feels as if your body has melted into the plastic, not a single muscle willing to move.

There’s a loud splash of water and next thing you know Bucky’s heavy, wet body lands on top of you as the flamingo sails forward from the force of the impact.

Your yell combines with Bucky’s raspy laughter.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #summer entrees

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redwing4life · 2 days

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For you

CHAPTER 3 | ASHES TO EMBERS

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbor!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Mention of night terrors, Bucky being upset, fluff, flashbacks containing the death of a child, plenty of unholy thoughts, half naked bucky, dirty talk???, sexual tension, please let me know if i’ve missed something!!!

SUMMARY: You find Bucky at his most vulnerable when he’s sent home from work at 2 in the morning. While doing everything you can to comfort him, you realise you’re falling for him.

WORD COUNT: 4926

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

“James, you home?” You call into the firefighter’s apartment, peeking your head around his front door.

It’s your day off and you want ice cream, and for some reason instead of running to the store, you chose to break into your neighbour’s home to ransack his freezer.

“James?” You shout again, double checking he’s at work as you close the door behind you and make your way to the kitchen.

Alpine greets you with a meow from above the fridge, seemingly unbothered by the sudden intruder. You crouch down to pull open the bottom door, met with a cool rush of air that leaves your arm hairs standing tall.

“Come on, I know you have some…” You mumble to yourself while you rustle through the shelves.

“Bingo!” Your fingers brush ice off the top of the tub before pulling it out of the freezer. You reach beside you to close the door and push yourself to your feet, turning to leave when you finally notice your half naked neighbour.

You jump a mile, throwing the ice cream tub in the midst of your fright. “Fuck me, James!!” You all but scream, right hand now clutched to your chest.

Bucky laughs from his stomach, an raising an amused brow at the sight before him.

“I’ve been trying to for months, doll.” He smirks. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

It’s fair to say your brain is lagging a bit, too focused on the drops of water running down his very bare chest to pay notice to his confession.

Clad in just a white towel, wrapped dangerously low on his hips, your neighbour bends down to pick up the strewn tub of ice cream. You catch the way his free hand clutches the knot of the towel in an attempt to keep it from falling, though you find yourself indifferent to the idea.

Indifferent, my ass. You’re practically begging the gods for a gust of wind. Wait did he just say he’s been trying to fu-

“You stealing my ice cream, sweets?” His teasing voice breaks you out of your rather un-holy thoughts.

“James- I- I thought you were working?”

“Ah-Ah-Ah,” Bucky tuts, stepping closer to you, “you didn’t answer my question, doll. I said are stealing from me?”

Your throat runs dry and you shake your head quickly, “No- I- I was just-“

“Just what, peach? Hm?”

He’s so fucking close to you that your brain has completely checked out; your eyes fall to his broad chest, still dripping from the shower.

“Cat got ya tongue, doll?” Bucky teases you, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, skin ablaze in the path of his touch.

You drag your gaze to meet his, breath hitching at his lust-blown pupils.

“I thought you were at work.” You whisper, clutching onto that as your excuse for being caught.

A hand wraps around your waist and tugs you closer, forcing you to brace yourself against Bucky’s taut torso. With one hand on his chest and the other at the top of his abs, your heart races in your ears as the firefighter leans in closer.

“And I thought you were a good girl.” His voice is low, sultry even, against your ear, “I guess we were both wrong.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, drawing a groan from Bucky’s throat, the vibrations palpable beneath your finger tips.

“I am good, Bucky.” You hate how submissive you sound, but Bucky adores it. All it took was a tub of ice cream and a white towel to have you like putty in his hands.

You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe, feeling his warm tongue reach out to soothe the sting. The sensation runs straight to your pussy, your panties catching your arousal as you look up at your neighbour.

“Good girls don’t call me ‘Bucky’.” His nose trails along your cheek until his mouth is hovering over yours. “Wanna try that again, doll?”

You hold his fiery gaze as you reply, desperate to appease him. “I’m sorry, James. I can be good.”

Eyes falling to his mouth when he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, you whimper at the sight.

“Fuck, doll.” His lips nearly brush over yours as he speaks. “Lucky for you, I like it when my girl’s got a bad side…”

You’re still watching his pink lips when he takes your hand in his. He revels in the way his hand swallows yours before leading it down to the towel’s knot on his hip.

“Go on, sweets.” Bucky ushers your hand between his skin and the towel, slowly pushing the material until you feel it fall away. With one hand, he tilts your chin up so you look him in the eye, gently leading the other closer to his already hard length.

“Show me how bad you can be.”

You wake up with a startle, body bolting upright in the swarm of your sheets. It takes a few seconds for your heart to stop racing and your ears to stop ringing; you look around you, no longer in Bucky’s kitchen and no longer just moments away from kissing him.

Not just from kissing him though, were you?

As you come to your senses, you notice frustrated grunts coming from the hallway, surely the cause of your sudden wake up. With a frown, you slip out of bed and step into your slippers.

You walk to your living room, flicking on a light as you go, ears honing in on the sounds from the other side of the door.

“For fuck’s sake!” You hear, recognising the voice as your neighbours, the same one you were just dreaming about.

“Stupid piece of shit-“ He grumbles, accompanied by clanging metal.

Quickly unlocking your door, you glance down the hall to see Bucky knelt before his own, desperately trying to push his key into the lock.

“Bucky?”

Your voice passes straight through him, as though you said nothing at all. The metal of his keys clang against the lock, doing everything it can not to go in the key hole. You close your door behind you and slip your own keys into the pocket of your checked pyjama pants.

“Bucky?” You repeat, louder this time. How foolish of you to think your words would settle upon his ears this time around; one may think he’s deaf with the way your calls roll off him like water off a duck’s back.

Tentatively, your feet carry you forward, barely heard over the grunts falling from your neighbours lips.

“James?”

He stills. The new silence hits you like a brick but you’re not sure that you prefer it. No more than a couple of feet of distance and shit ton of apprehension sits between you both.

Bucky wills himself to stay still, though his hands refuse to comply. They tremble in front of him, his grip on the keys turning his knuckles white. Your gaze burns into him yet he can’t find the strength to look at you. To admit that he needs you.

Without a sound, you close the gap and lower yourself to your knees. You don’t touch him yet, you think he needs the space.

He wants you to touch him, he hates the space. If only his vocal cords would listen to his brain and ask.

Your features are blurred in his peripheral, slowly coming into focus when you stretch a hand out in front of him. The pads of your fingers barely brush over his knuckles, they trace the veins leading down to his wrist, leaving a trail of fire behind them. Not a dangerous fire, Bucky thinks; the kind that sits crackling in a fireplace in winter while you read a book, huddled into the couch.

He’s a slave to your touch, his grasp relaxing as you run your fingers over his, urging him to open his palm. His fist peels open like a lily blooming, the silver key a stark contrast to the white tension of his hand.

“That’s it, love.” You whisper, unknowingly causing Bucky to bite back a sob.

Love. The tenderness of your tone is unlike anything he’s heard before and he relishes in it, letting it wrap around him like a blanket.

Plucking the keys from his hand, you gently reach up to push them into the key hole. Bucky’s eyes fall shut in a futile attempt to hold back his tears, tears that you’re ready to swipe away if he needs. You realise in this moment that you’d do anything to ease his pain, a revelation that both terrifies you and makes more sense than anything else in your life.

The click of the door unlocking sounds and you pull the key out.

“Let’s get you out of this hallway, James.” You use his real name, now that you know it’s the most effective, and push yourself to your feet.

It’s of little practical use for you to offer Bucky a hand, yet you do it anyway. He takes it with haste, giving in to his primal need for physical touch.

His knees crack as he stands, a combination of years climbing fire escapes and the last ten minutes he’s spent on the ground fighting a key hole. Letting you push the door open, he keeps hold of your free hand and follows you into his own apartment like a lost puppy.

You string together small praises and lead him to his couch, pressing his shoulders slightly to get him to sit down. Once he eases down on the edge of the seat, your turn to close the door but find yourself being pulled back to Bucky.

“Don’t go,” He pleads, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist; it’s not painful, but you feel the desperation bleeding into your skin. His eyes are strikingly blue and glistening with unshed tears, begging you to stay. Luckily for him, you would never leave his side when he needs you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck. Just gonna close the door and i’ll be right back.”

It dawns on him that he’s acting like a toddler, incapable of being left alone for even a second. He’s almost glad you’ve left to lock the door so you don’t see how his cheeks have burned crimson with shame. There’s so many thoughts swirling around his head that a dull ache is growing at the base of his neck.

Alpine saunters into the living area with sleepy eyes; she meets your gaze as you head back to Bucky, her eyes flitting between your worried stance and the stillness of her owner. She may only be a cat, but she knows when something is wrong. You offer her a sad smile. How do I help him, Alps? What does he need from me?

Releasing a slow breath, you return to your neighbour, crouching down in front of his place on the couch.

“Can I touch you?” You ask gently.

Words fail Bucky for the umpteenth time so he’s forced to nod instead. The warmth of your hands on his thighs is welcomed with a small sigh. His resolve to hold back is weakening with every rise and fall of your chest, his focus on your breathing being the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You circle your fingers over his navy pants keeping your hands close to his knees. The last thing he needs is to think you’re making a pass at him.

“What happened, James?” Your brows pull together. “Your shift doesn’t finish till six.”

The lump in his throat swells, images of tonight’s events flashing before him like a broken film reel.

You watch his chin tremble as his memories torment him, waiting patiently for his response. You know it takes time for him to talk, but the silence is killing you. Lifting a hand from his left thigh, you reach up and brush the loose strands of chestnut hair away from his eyes.

You finally break the silence, “Bucky, darling, what happened?”

Something inside Bucky’s chest snaps and a sob tears through his whole body. He collapses into your hold, face finding safety in your neck. The wails wrack through him while his tears soak your night shirt and you quickly cradle his head.

“Oh, love, it’s okay.” You clench your eyes shut, trying to hold back your own tears. “I’ve got you.”

Though muffled by your shirt, his cries reverberate around the room. You find yourself pushing up to your feet, separating from the firefighter briefly so you can climb onto his lap. With a leg either side of his, kneeling against the cushion, you pull him near to you once more.

Those strong arms envelop you, bringing you impossibly closer; you wrap your own around his neck, the other holding his head to your chest.

Every sob breaks your heart as broken sentences fall from his lips, barely comprehensible but you pick up the few words you understand.

Fire. Boy. Trapped.

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear while you run your fingers through his hair, praying his body tires so he doesn’t have to endure this much longer. If it doesn’t, if he needs you to hold him till sunrise, then sunset, then sunrise again, you’ll do it. You won’t even lean back to take your slippers off, not unless he’s ready.

It’s funny how time works. How things can feel so quick yet so slow at the same time, with no regard for which you’d prefer. You have no idea how long Bucky has been weeping into your neck; you’ve lost count of how many times it’s seemed like he’d calmed, only for a heart wrenching sob to escape him and the process repeats all over again.

But at some point his wails became whimpers and his tears ran dry, only your shirt and his cheeks holding the remnants of his cries.

“I-“ Bucky’s voice is hoarse, forcing him to pull away from your grasp and clear his throat. “I’m sorry, doll, i’m so fucking sorry.”

You don’t even realise you’re shaking your head at him as he continues to apologise.

“I shouldn’t have made you deal with that-“

“Stop,“

“-you didn’t get a choice I just dumped it all-“

“James, stop!” Your sharp tone shuts him up immediately, a timid expression on his face. You reach behind you to grab his hands and pull them in between you. Your flatten your palms against his and watch his eyes fall to where you meet.

“I don’t know who or what made you feel like you have to apologise the moment you show your pain, but I wish I could slap them seven ways to Sunday.”

Warmth pools in your chest at the tiny upturn of Bucky’s lips.

“As long as you’ll let me, i’ll help you, no matter how long it takes.” You glance down at your tear soaked shirt. “Even if it means soggy shirts.”

Your neighbour groans, “Oh god, at least let me apologise for that.”

A relieved laugh rises from your stomach, glad to see a semblance of normal Bucky. “It’s fine, Buck, washers exist for a reason.”

Comfortable silence falls and you let your fingers pass through his, linking together perfectly. Alpine decides to finally make an appearance and jumps up onto the arm of the couch before stepping onto Bucky’s lap, nestling in the small gap between your bodies.

“Someone’s comfy.” The firefighter mumbles, quietly enjoying the comfort of his cat.

When he raises his head to look at you, he finds your kind eyes already on him.

“What do you need?” You ask, noting the unrest on his face.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it or do you need distracting?”

Bucky ponders for a moment. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”

You nod, “That’s okay. Distraction it is.”

Feet tapping against the hardwood floor, you wait patiently for Bucky to leave the bathroom. Alpine is oblivious to your unrest, enjoying the head stretches you’ve been giving her for the past twenty minutes.

The firefighter gladly accepted your suggestion of a shower, knowing the hot water would relax him after tonight’s events. You’ve been setting up ready for him to return; two lamps now emit warm light from either end of the apartment while the show you and Bucky have been watching sits on pause. You even laid out his favourite blanket for him, though Alpine has commandeered it for now.

Bucky’s phone, meanwhile, has been buzzing constantly - whether it’s an incoming call or a text - the vibrations against the pine coffee table are beginning to drive you crazy.

Eventually, you decide to check who it is who’s desperate to get in touch with your neighbour. You grab the phone and flip it over gently, faced with several notifications from Steve. Your frown deepens as you skim over his messages, realising how worried the captain is over Bucky’s silence.

Hoping he won’t mind, you pick up Bucky’s phone and walk to the bathroom door before knocking against the wood. The shower turned off a few minutes ago and you were meaning to check on him anyway.

“Hey, Buck, everything okay?” You call into the side of the door. No response.

“James?” You ask again when you hear shuffling on the other side.

Still leaning in close to listen carefully, you raise your fist to knock once more, only for the door to suddenly swing open, revealing a rather disheveled and very shirtless Bucky.

Being as tall as he is, you’re eye level with his pecs, small beads of water resting against his lightly tanned skin; some race down to his abs and you follow their path as they journey through the valleys of his defined muscles.

Bucky looks down at you, adorned with an amused smirk, as he leans an arm above him against the door frame. Your frozen state and peach pink cheeks has him chuckling, glad to see you don’t find him ugly after this evening.

Flashbacks to your dream earlier in the night have you rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mere inches separate your bodies, the gap closing briefly each time you take a breath.

A deep blue towel is tied around his hips; it’s slipped just below his waist, the divots of his adonis’ belt screaming to be traced, to follow the happy trail right down to his-

“I’m alright, doll.” Bucky’s gruff voice greets your ears, though it takes you a moment to remember what’s happening. “Sorry, I was just finishing up. You alright? You’re looking a little flushed, sweets.”

No shit, Sherlock.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you raise your eyes to meet his. “I- uh- I’m g-good. I was just- um-“

Bucky grins, finding your stuttering cute, before glancing at his phone in your grasp.

“Let me guess, Steve’s been calling?”

You nod quickly. “A lot, yes. I was coming to ask what to do?”

“Would you mind calling him and explaining everything while I go get changed?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fighting to keep your eyes from trailing to his bare chest, you smile reassuringly, hoping you’ve not made a fool of yourself by ogling a man who was bawling his eyes out a half hour ago.

Awkward silence arrives and leaves you with a racing heart. It’s not everyday you see your dreams turn into reality. Well, it would only your dream becoming reality if Bucky were to grab you face and kiss you till your pussy is-

“Doll?”

Shit, you realise you’ve been staring at his pecs. “Yeah?”

“Mind letting me by so I can change?”

Somehow turning a deeper shade of red, you step aside to let Bucky and his shit-eating grin by. You drop your head down to ensure you don’t end up staring at his ass as he heads to his room.

Pull yourself together, Y/n.

You walk to the kitchen, opening Bucky’s phone on the way and dialling Steve’s number. It rings twice before an agitated voice plays from the speakers.

“Jesus, Buck, where have you been? I’ve-“

“Uh- hey, Steve. It’s Y/n.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, sorry, James asked me to call and explain that he’s had a rough night.” You wince at your own words. ‘Rough’ barely scratches the surface of what tonight has been.

“Shit…” The captain murmurs, and you hum in agreement. “Where- um- where is he now?”

You glance over your shoulder, “He’s just getting changed. It was- well, he’s really struggling, Steve, he was pretty shaken up.”

A small sigh sounds from the other side of the phone. “Yeah, we had a tough call and it triggered him so I sent him home early.”

You nod, despite knowing Steve can’t see you, and he continues.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”

You’re shaking your head now. “No no, Steve, it’s okay, i’m fine, really!” You lower your voice, “I mean, he scared me. I’ve never seen him like that before, i’m just worried for him.”

Eyes fluttering shut as you remember the fear that flooded your muscles when Bucky started crying, Steve replies with a somber tone, “Yeah, me too.”

“Hey,” he chirps, “i’ve already told him that he doesn’t have to come in tonight but he never listens to me. Could you try and convince him to stay home?”

Having already planned on asking him to consider taking a day off, you answer, “Yes, of course. But if he doesn’t listen to you then-“

“Trust me, Y/n” Steve interrupts you, “you’ve got better chance than I do, just let me know how it goes.”

“Will do. Thanks, Steve.”

“Thank you, Y/n. I’m glad he’s got someone who cares about him like we do.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Me too. Good night, Steve.”

“Night!”

You hang up the phone and spin on your heels at the sound of a door closing. Bucky stands just outside his bedroom door, now clad in grey sweatpants and a black t shirt, his hair still a little damp and ruffled from his attempt to dry it.

“Hey…” A small smile stretches across his lips, a far cry from the smirking tease you spoke to a few minutes ago.

“Hey, James.” You step closer. “Would you like a drink?”

“Im alright, thanks doll.”

“I got the TV set up if you wanna watch something? Take your mind off things?”

Bucky sighs constantly at the thought, nodding gently. “That sounds good.”

Settling down onto the couch, you let Alpine sit between you, leaving enough space that you’re not touching without being too far away from each other. The pair of you watch your show for a while, time bringing you closer together until you’re resting your head on Bucky’s shoulder. He runs his fingers up and down your right arm that’s lopped around his left, the tender strokes lulling you to sleep.

You battle to keep your eyes open, grateful that Bucky can’t see your face as you doze off every now and then. I mean, who can blame you when you’re being held so securely, your side pressed against his so close that you can feel his heartbeat?

You feel Bucky twitch beneath you, causing you to blink your eyes open, not realising you’d fallen asleep. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t notice either, and you watch as he stretches to the coffee table to press pause on the TV remote.

With no background noise, you hear your neighbours breath increase before he twists back to face you.

“I meant it earlier.” His voice pins you down and you sit up properly.

“Meant what, Buck?”

“That i’m sorry.” Those sharp blue eyes fall to his lap.

You shake your head for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, “James, please, you don’t need-“

“You were scared of me, doll.”

Cussing yourself mentally for not being quieter on your call with Steve, you scramble words together, desperate to fix the miscommunication.

“That’s not- That’s not what I meant, James.”

Bucky’s brow furrows deeper, head titling up but his eyes remain on his lap. “What else is it supposed to mean? I scared you, Y/n. Plain and simple.”

“I wasn’t scared of you, James.” You place a hand on his, hating the way he doesn’t turn his over to hold yours. “I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to help you, that I’d be useless at calming you down. It wasn’t you, I promise.”

“I- I was so scared that you were in so much pain, Buck, and- and I couldn’t do anything.”

A single tear falls onto his grey sweatpants just as he finally meets your gaze, eyes swarming with vulnerability. You feel his hand turn to press against your palm.

“You weren’t useless, Y/n.” He gestures to your surroundings. “I mean, all of this! You’ve done nothing but care for me since the moment you found me outside. This isn’t useless, doll. You’ve done so fucking much for me already and you don’t even know why I need you in the first place.”

A stray tear escapes you as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. The scruff of his stubble tickles your skin, swiping a thumb over his cheek bone to catch his fallen tears.

“You don’t need to tell me a-“

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You nod and squeeze his hand. “But if you change your mind at any point, that’s okay too. I’m just here for you, James.”

Bucky doesn’t change his mind.

Once he gets over the initial nerves, his words flow like a broken faucet. Your heart fills with lead, sinking to your stomach as he tells you about that one fire that never leaves his mind. How he was only in his second year, still fresh faced and naïve, so confident in himself that he failed to find the boy trapped under a fallen beam. How he walked out of the house feeling so goddamn proud of himself for saving the little girl, only to find out the next day that her big brother was found dead in that same room.

It’s impossible to blink away your tears, as one falls, three others take its place until your cheeks are as damp as a shower wall. Your death grip on Bucky’s hand anchors him as he confesses his worst secret, the one that haunts his dreams until they fade into nightmares and then into terrors. You realise then that this is what he sees when you’re startled awake to his screams at night; while his physical body is trapped in unconsciousness, his mind it trapped in that house, staring at the little boy.

Words fail you as Bucky talks, so you focus on listening, on holding his hand and wiping away the few tears he has left. The need to reassure him burns in your chest as his words slow, eyes fluttering close when you bring his hand to your lips.

You pepper soft kisses from his fingers to his wrist. “You carry this weight everywhere, James. When was the last time you set it down?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare slightly as he breathes in deeply through his nose; he shakes his head, lips quivering before revealing his glassy eyes.

“I c-can’t… he didn’t deserve to- to die because of me, so I- I don’t deserve to put it down.”

“Oh, Bucky, darling,” You release his hand to hold his face. His pulse throbs under your palm as you slide your hand upwards, slipping your pinky and ring fingers behind his ear.

“Holding this in, letting it control you for so long, it’s blinding you, love. It’s tricked you into thinking you deserve the pain but you don’t. You don’t.”

Bucky leans into your right hand, raising his own to cover yours.

“You don’t have to believe me right now, cause I know you don’t.” A dry chuckle falls from the firefighters mouth. “But can try and trust me on this? Trust me to look after you when you need it?”

Your breathe hitches in your throat when he presses his lips to your palm, all while holding your stare. You’ll never grow old of him looking at you this way.

Bucky smiles gently, “I’ve always trusted you, doll.”

“Good.”

Sitting here, holding each other again with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, it would be easy for someone to think you’re in love.

Maybe they wouldn’t be wrong, not about you anyway. Though, you’re happy to keep that to yourself for now.

“You should sleep, Barnes.” He huffs a laugh, pulling away from your grasp.

“Had enough of me already, sweets?”

Now you’re the one laughing, “Never,” you push yourself to your feet and offer him your hands, “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Taking your help, Bucky lets you lead him to his bedroom. You pull back his duvet and step back, letting him climb into his bed, limbs weighed down by his fatigue.

You crouch down beside him. “How’d you feel about staying home tonight? I don’t want you pushing yourself to work when you’re not ready.”

Battling to keep his eyes open, Bucky mumbles a response into his pillow. “Okay, doll. For you.”

While it’s too dark to see, your neighbour knows that you’re blushing. You go to stand up and leave but a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stay with me, Y/n.”

You smile. “Okay, love. For you.”

a/n: i really hope this was worth the wait! it’s taken me a long time to get this written properly and in the way it deserves. hope you can tell i was feeling shit when i wrote bucky’s breakdown - you write what you know, ay?

thank you so much for reading, don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed. all the support i’ve received so far has been incredible and it makes me smile like mad when i read your comments.

as always, asks and dms are open - questions, requests, suggestions, whatever you’d like!! love, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @pank0w @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @sorenevans @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378

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literaryavenger · 3 months

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Captain America: Civil War - 2

Summary: After Peggy's funeral, Steve, Sam and you go to Bucharest to track down Bucky before the FBI kills him, or at least tries to.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Language. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: Here's part two of Civil War and the first look into a Bucky x Reader relationship! That's my goal, anyway. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It’s been a sad few days for Steve, he’s been crying a lot after the news that Peggy died.

You and Sam offered to go with him to the funeral so now you’re both sitting in the first row as Steve and five other guys carry the coffin.

“And now, I would like to invite Sharon Carter to come up and say a few words.” the priest says and Steve’s old neighbor Agent 13, steps up to the podium.

Your eyes widen a little in shock and elbow Sam while looking at her, then Sam nudges Steve and nods to her.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD… but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy.” Sharon starts the eulogy and you look at Steve who's just as surprised to see her. “She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related.”

She looks directly at Steve before continuing. “I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move… it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say ‘No. You move.’.”

Her words hit you deep, and you’re sure they hit Steve deep, too.

Peggy was clearly a very smart woman, and the fact that she helped found SHIELD and was such a badass made her your inspiration when you were a trainee and ever since you became an agent. Sharon’s words just made you more and more sure that not signing the Accords is the right thing to do.

After the funeral Steve asks you and Sam for a moment alone, so you hug him before letting him have some peace, making your way to the hotel you’re all staying at with Sam.

You’re in the hotel bar when the news comes on with the bombing in Vienna. You and Sam exchange a worried glance and set out to find Steve right away.

You find him near the elevators with Sharon just as the elevator arrives.

“Thanks for walking me back.” Sharon says and as Steve answers “Sure” you get close to them.

“Steve.” you grab his attention.

“There’s something you gotta see.” Sam finishes.

We all go up to Sharon’s hotel room to turn on the news that’s all about the UN bombing in Vienna and how the culprit is believed to be James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier HYDRA asset and formerly known as Sergeant Barnes, Steve’s best friend.

They talk about the death of King T’Chaka and you look at Steve who seems as concerned as you are as you quietly say. “That’s not good.” And he agrees with a nod.

“I have to go to work.” Sharon says and you all know what has to be done.

Sam, Steve and you flew to Vienna with Sharon and now you and Sam are in a coffee shop waiting for Steve while he talks to Natasha.

“How can you eat at a time like this?!” you whisper shout to Sam, annoyed.

“What am I supposed to do, starve?” He answers and you roll your eyes but before you can say anything back, Steve steps next to him.

“She tell you to stay out of it?” you ask him, knowing Natasha pretty well.

“Might have a point.” Sam comments casually.

“He'd do it for me.” Steve says back.

“1945, maybe.” Sam says and you roll your eyes and try to be a little more sensitive than Sam.

“I just want to make sure we consider all our options.” you gently say, but Sam cuts in.

“Yeah, the people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at us.” He says and can’t really fight him on that, he’s not wrong.

Sharon appears next to Steve and starts talking quietly without looking at any of us.

“Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter soldier goes to their gym. Most of it is noise. Except for this.” She slides Steve a file. “My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that's all the head start you're gonna get.”

“Thank you.” Steve says as he takes the file.

“And you're gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight.” she says and leaves as the three of you exchange a worried glance. Without wasting any time, you make your way out of the coffee shop and to the airport, destination: Bucharest.

You get to the right address and go separate ways. Sam gets to the roof of the building that Steve enters to look for Barnes and you go to the roof of the other building, where you have an eye on both Sam and, thanks to the scope on your rifle, you can see Steve even through the covered windows.

You see Steve enter the small apartment and look around, then he goes to the kitchen and picks up what looks like a notebook and opens it. Then you hear Sam’s voice through the comms.

“Heads up, Cap. German Special Forces approaching from the south.” You notice movement behind Steve as Sam talks.

“Understood.” Steve says as you see Barnes has entered the apartment.

“Steve, turn around.” You tell him through the comms and he slowly does.

“Do you know me?” You can hear Steve ask, but can’t hear Bucky’s response because he's talking too quietly.

“They've set the perimeter.” Sam says, but you’re still focused on Bucky inside the building.

“I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be.” You hear Steve say, “But you're lying.” You can see Bucky’s lips moving, but at this angle you can’t really read his lips.

“They're entering the building.” Sam says and you finally take your attention away from the apartment and look around the building as you hear Steve talk.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they're not planning on taking you alive.”

“Sam, they’re on the roof.” You say through the comms.

“She’s right, I'm compromised.” He says.

“This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck.” Steve says.

“5 seconds.” Sam says in your ear.

“You pulled me from the river. Why?” Steve keeps trying to get through to Bucky.

“3 seconds!” You say as you see them about to breach the apartment.

“Yes, you do!” Steve almost yells before you hear Sam yelling in your ear.

“Breach! Breach! Breach!” you see a grenade crash through the window. Bucky kicks it to Steve, and he smothers it with his shield.

You see Bucky shielding himself with the mattress against an attack from the window, then he blocks the door with a table as cops swing in on cables. Steve pulls the rug from under a policeman, sending him flying. Bucky slams another policeman into the wall.

“Buck, stop! You're gonna kill someone.” you hear Steve say before Bucky slams him down and punches a hole in the floor right next to his face.

You faintly hear him say, “I'm not gonna kill anyone.” Before he pulls something out the floor, throws it out the building and it lands near you.

You’re about to go see what’s in it but are distracted by Bucky and Steve hiding behind the shield together before Bucky shoves Steve into a cop and you have to stop yourself from laughing.

Bucky holds up his metal hand and repels bullets, then slams a cop into some shelves. He picks up a large cement brick and slams it into a cop and you can see Steve fighting another cop on the balcony.

You see Bucky punch through the wall beside the door. He steps into the hallway and you lose sight of him, a second later Steve steps into the hallway and you lose him too.

“You have a visual, Sam?” You ask through the comms and he answers with a simple ‘No’.

You hear Steve say “Come on, man.” and hear his grunting as he fights.

After a minute you hear Steve say “Y/N, he’s coming your way.” and you frown.

“What do you mean he’s-” Before you can answer you can see Bucky jumping out a balcony and you let out a quiet “Holy shit.” that makes Steve groan and Sam snicker.

Bucky lands not too far away from you and, before he can get to his backpack, you put yourself in front of him so he can’t get to it.

“Hello, soldier.” you say in a teasing and vaguely flirting tone, but he simply looks at you for half a second before throwing a punch that you avoid and quickly say “Not a talker. Got it.” Before throwing a punch of your own that he easily stops, holding your arm as he sweeps your legs and in a second you’re on the ground.

Bucky picks up his backpack and runs, but a big man all dressed in black, a full face mask with pointed ears, slams into him and knocks him down. He extends his fingers and sharp claws pop out and he attacks Bucky with sweeping kicks and slashes.

Bucky fights back but is kicked into a wall, the figure swipes his claws and spins gracefully. Bucky narrowly avoids being slashed, holding up a metal bar to protect himself.

You get up and get closer to them to try and help Bucky. You kick the man off of him and protect Bucky by standing in front of him in a fighting stance.

“Bad kitty.” you tell him and can hear Steve and Sam simultaneously say “Seriously, Y/N?”

“Sam, southwest rooftop.” you hear Steve say as the cat man lunges at you.

“Who the hell's the other guy?” Sam asks.

“About to find out.” Steve answers while you try your best to not get killed by the overgrown cat you’re fighting at the moment. The man manages to slam you into a wall and lunges at Bucky with his claws, but Bucky grabs his wrists.

You’re about to help but a soldier fires a machine gun from a chopper, the ammo bounces off the man’s armored suit who’s now on top of Bucky, but you’re forced to hide to avoid the bullets.

You hear Steve call for Sam’s help and Sam answers with a “Got him.” before he flies down and shoves the chopper off course, then swoops towards street level.

Bucky breaks free from his attacker, slings his bag on his back, runs and jumps down a level, and the other man slides down the wall using his claws for traction. Bucky lands at street level and the chase continues. Steve follows and lands rolling along the ground.

You watch them from the edge of the roof and sigh. “Okay, I can’t do that.” You look up in search of Sam. “Sam, I need a ride.”

“I got you.” He says as he swoops down and picks you up, taking flight again to follow the others while you hang on to him for dear life.

Gunfire from the chopper tears up the sidewalk, Bucky jumps down through an opening, lands in an underpass and he runs through the traffic. Cat Suit and Steve drop down and chase after Bucky as a Special Forces Vehicle pursues all of them.

You see Steve leap onto the vehicle and splinter the windshield and, when the driver stops, Steve yanks him from the vehicle and kicks the windshield out, then drives off.

Bucky runs over the top of a speeding car, outpacing it and Cat Suit is a few cars behind, keeping pace with him. Then he leaps on the back of the 4x4 that Steve's driving and Steve swerves from side to side, trying to throw him off.

“Sam, I can't shake this guy.” He says into the comms.

“We’re right behind you.” Sam says as you fly behind him.

Several police cars join the chase and you see Steve side-swipe another car and drive on.

Bucky leaps over a barrier and Steve drives through it, then you can see Bucky grab the handlebar of an incoming motorcycle and spin the bike around in mid air, throwing the rider off as he gets on the bike himself, riding away and sending cars careering out of the way.

Steve keeps on Bucky's tail with Cat Suit holding onto the back of his car. They all rocket through another underpass and Sam flies into the underpass.

Cat Suit leaps off the front of Steve’s car onto Bucky's motorbike and Bucky flings him over his head and the bike leans down on its side. Bucky kicks his assailant away, straightens up and rides on.

Cat Suit catches a ride on one of Sam’s legs and Sam tries to kick him away. Bucky throws a sticky bomb and blows up the roof at the end of the underpass, bringing down tons of rubble.

Sam tells you to hang on and you can feel his grip tighten on you as he stops and throws the Cat Suit man into the rubble. He throws Bucky off the motorcycle as Steve swerves the car through the rubble and leaps out, running as Bucky and the Cat roll on the ground.

When they stop the Cat is on Bucky right away but Steve jumps on him and pulls him off Bucky.

Steve stands up, facing the sleek and muscular overgrown black cat as the police arrive and surround you all, guns aimed. War Machine leaps down from above and raises both his suit hands, guns drawn.

“Stand down, now.” Rhodey says, aiming at Bucky and Steve who are standing side by side and at the Cat Suit Guy. Steve puts his shield on his back again as Rhodey continues. “Congratulations, Cap. You're a criminal.”

Police move in and force Bucky to his knees. The Cat raises his hands as a cop moves Steve's arms behind his back and you and Sam are also handcuffed and brought closer to the others by two police men. The cat retracts his claws and pulls off his mask revealing his face and you’re all shocked to see it’s King T'Challa.

“Your highness.” Rhodey says as Bucky's hauled flat on the ground and getting handcuffed.

You all get arrested, forced to change out of our suits and gears and taken to Berlin. Bucky is restrained inside a glass-walled pod surrounded by armed guards.

In an SUV sits T’Challa on front, then you, then Steve and last Sam. You’re quietly going through traffic until Sam very respectfully breaks the silence. “So, you like cats?”

“Sam.” Steve warns him while you snort in amusement, looking out the window to avoid what you’re sure will be a disappointed glare from Steve.

“What?” Sam continues. “Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don't wanna know more?”

“Your suit…” Steve ignores Sam and addresses T’Challa. “Is it Vibranium?”

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior.” T’Challa finally speaks up. “And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king.” Oh, no. “So, I ask you... as both warrior and king... how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

The silence that follows is deafening, as none of you know or want to give an answer to that, and you’re sure T’Challa doesn’t expect one.

“Sorry about King T’Chaka…” You say quietly after a moment.

“Don’t worry, miss Y/LN. He will be vindicated.” He answers back without missing a beat.

You look back at Steve and Sam and they both look as worried as you feel.

This is not going to end well, is it?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 8 months

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“The Avengers Embark on a Brief Escape from Sanity” - a Loki x Reader crack!fic one shot

You, Loki, and the Avengers go to an escape room to pass an afternoon. You all fucking destroy the place, you chaotic sunsuvbishes.

PAIRINGS: Loki x Reader; Bucky x Steve; Author x Skywalker OG WARNINGS: the fuck if I know what my brain’s going to come up with, just know when to duck (brief erection talk and lots of Bucky ass-grabbing Steve) WORD COUNT: 2.4k

This is my 1k follower celebration, where you all dared me to write a fic while stoned, posting it un-edited. All I edited was spelling because my gods I’m not a total schmuck. For the record, at the beginning of this adventure I am about half-a-joint in, and fully intend to be two-in by the time we’re finished here today. They really should make some Marvel-named strains. A Loki OG would probably make me so horny. Like literally, his color is green so why don't we have Loki-Smoki? Anyway, here you go, my readers. Thanks for getting me to 1k! I love you….and I’m sorry. ^_^

“I don't understand,” said a highly-confused Thor as the quinjet touched down on the roof of the mall. “People put themselves in prison for fun here? How strange!”

“For once, I concur with my brother,” said a sullen Loki from the seat on your left. You smiled and slipped a hand over his. His skin always felt supple, cooler than a human’s, but still soft. “It makes no sense.”

“It’s a game!” said Steve, proud to finally be ‘in’ on something before another teammate. “To test our minds and ability to work on a team!”

Stark rolled his eyes and stood up first as the engines stopped. “Yeah, because The Avengers have no fucking idea how teams works…or how prisons work,” he eyed Nat, along with half of the team.

She pouted. “Fuck you.”

You and Loki quickly got up. “I think it’ll be fun,” you said, ever the optimist. “And if nothing else, think of all the attention this small, local business will attract if just one of us takes a picture with them!”

Loki smiled and kissed your forehead. “You’re always seeing the good in everything, even in the face of inevitable imprisonment!”

You rolled your eyes. “Drama queen.”

You may as well have sauntered into the mall in slow motion, you all looked so cool. Everyone recognized you as the heroes of Earth, of course, and you couldn’t get far before the wolves descended, desperate for interaction with their idols. Some of you relished in the attention. Tony was waving and handing out business cards. Thor and Steve were posing with the ladies for selfies while Bucky tried to grab Steve’s ass from behind. Meanwhile, Nat looked like she wanted to go home and punch someone. That left you and Loki in the middle, looking around over the heads of the gathering fans, looking for an exit.

“Are you sure this isn’t the escape room?” Loki asked.

“Over there!” you said, pointing to the left. A large, neon sign flashed “Escape-O-Rama!” from a regrettable distance away. But before you could wrangle the Avengers away from their adoring fans, two beautiful young women flanked Loki, ignoring you completely and shoving you off to the side.

Loki grimaced. “Ladies…I’m not sure you’re aware that you just shoved my--”

“--can we get a picture?” asked one, a fair-skinned lass with lush blonde hair. “Please, Mr. Loki? God, you’re hot!”

You frowned and rolled your eyes, regaining your balance as the second girl shoved her phone into your hand. “Take the picture?”

Without letting your boyfriend get a word in edgewise, the girls threw his hands over their shoulders, giggling like idiots. Loki looked at you, and raised an eyebrow the instant he saw how red your face was getting with anger. “No, I’m not indulging a pair of ingrates!”

They, again, ignored his protestations, leaving you to settle the matter.

“Jesus Christ, we’ll be late for our reservation,” you muttered, growling and chucking the camera at the one girl’s face, hitting her nose, sending her careening to the floor with a grunt of shock.

Loki looked pleasantly amused. You wasted no time in throwing the other girl off of him and hurling her body on top of her pal’s. “You seemed to forget two things, ladies,” you said, shaking a finger at them. “One, I’m an Avenger too, so I can do some cool shit myself. You should’ve wanted me in the picture too, you dirty trailer-park cunts! Two, Loki’s my man meat, so back off, you bald-ass hyenas!”

The girls were stunned, and the other mortals who were busy accosting the rest of the team fell silent, slowly backing away and deciding to resume their business, lest they feel your wrath next.

“Good, now can we go?” you asked sweetly, waiting until the two little bitches were looking at you before shoving your tongue down Loki’s throat for a solid twenty seconds of public access tonsil hockey. Loki loved showing off in public with you, the Kinkmeister.

Thor didn’t like it when you did that in front of him, however, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Let’s…just go imprison ourselves.”

“Thor, I believe the correct term is ‘go fuck ourselves’,” said Tony.

“It’s a ship prison?” asked a skeptical Loki as you were guided back to the escape room by a pimple-faced teenaged employee.

“It’s our newest room,” bragged the kid, his voice cracking worse than Steve’s on the first night he ever saw a stripper. “Escape from the Titanic! Very popular! Very difficult to solve!”

“So it’s a very large prison, a titanic prison,” added Thor.

“It’s named after a real ship,” said Bucky.

“Or the movie,” added Tony.

“You’ll have one hour to find and obtain the key that unlocks the last available lifeboat off the sinking Titanic. If you fail to find the key and leave the ship, you’ll all drown!” the kid recited, trying his best to sound interested.

“This jerk won’t be winning any Oscars,” muttered Tony.

The employee ignored Tony Snark.

“I’ll be available to contact via this telegraph machine,” said the kid, indicating the large contraption by the door. “You’ll have three clues. Just tap any pattern into the telegraph, it’ll buzz me, and I’ll give you a clue. You can also bug out of the room in an emergency by tapping SOS.”

Loki had to almost immediately slap Thor’s curious hand away from the telegraph.

The employee set the clock to exactly one hour and left the room. As soon as he locked the door, an off-key version of My Heart Will Go On began twinkling awkwardly throughout the room, making Nat cringe.

“This is what they did to me in Gitmo” she murmured. “Bastards.”

“So now what?” asked Loki, looking to you for guidance.

“Well the first clue could be anywhere, tucked in a crack in a wall or under a table…look for drawers that could be opened, clues that may be written down in a book or--”

“--here it is!”

Tony raised the key marked “Number One” above his head.

“Um, we didn’t even find the clue yet, asshole,” you grunted. “Slow your roll, ‘kay?”

Tony shrugged and tossed the key on the table. “The clue on the tag says something about poop.”

“The poop deck, usually toward the back of a ship,” recited Steve as Bucky tried to make a reach for Steve’s poop deck.

“Um, how ‘bout that sign?” Tony pointed with his thumb to the sign that literally read “POOP DECK HERE YOU NEED THE KEY” above his head in the doorway.

The clock read 58:26 as everyone piled through the first door…except for you and Loki. You grinned slyly as you closed the door behind the others, keeping the two of you in that first room.

“There’s only one mast I want to raise today,” you said seductively, making Loki purr with pleasure.

“I’d counter you with an equally-witty quip, but I am not on familiar terms with the lingo that mortals use for their ships.”

“Shut up and put your tongue in my face, Loki.”

He did, and it was fucking excellent.

“Um, you do know there are cameras in every room?” came a timid voice from over the loudspeaker.

“Good, it’s free porn for you!” you giggled. Loki put a gentle finger to your lips and ‘shhed’ you in a way that made you want to drop your pants.

“Dignity, dearest,” he said softly. “Let’s wait until we can desecrate Steve’s room again.”

You were about to agree before you were interrupted by the sound of disappointment amid Tony’s wisecracks.

“Got the second key!” he said.

“Oh, come ON!” moaned Steve. The clock was still barely at 55:00.

“We should probably stay with the others. We’re going to be finished before you can even get up all the way,” you said, chuckling.

“That is where you’re wrong, lovely,” he said, taking your hand and putting it on his crotch for just a silent, tantalizing moment.

Yeah, he was harder than the SAT in Latin. Sadly, you wood would have to wait.

As you and Loki caught up with the rest of the team in the second room, Tony was having a hard time getting the key to work. “It’s stuck!”

“It’ll fit, just keep at it,” said Steve. “Jam it in harder if you have to!”

“That’s what you said last night!” giggled Bucky.

“We don't have time for this,” Tony growled.

“We literally have all the time for this,” you replied.

“Stand back! I will take care of this!”

You turned to the far corner of the room, where Thor stood posed with Mjolnir.

“Jesus Christ, why did you bring that in here?!” shrieked Tony.

“I’ll save us!” he hollered proudly, charging the locked door, his hammer poised to strike.

“NO!”“BROTHER, STOP!”“OH MY GAH--!!!”“WHAT THE FUUU---”

You woke up fifteen seconds later, strewn about the rubble, the room itself miraculously still standing in spite of the completely-blown-out inside. Loki was closer to his brother, holding him down while Tony smacked him repeatedly over the head with a chunk of table.

You looked next to you, where Sam Wilson was standing casually. You jumped a little at his seemingly sudden appearance at your side.

“Whoa! Sam, where did you come from?”

Sam frowned and looked at you with moderate disappointment, much how he looked every day. He just meant it today.

“I’ve always been here. All day. I was in the room this whole time and everything.”

The team went awkwardly silent.

Sam looked over at Cap, sadness in his eyes. “Et tu, Steve?”

Biting his lip, Steve said nothing. Bucky put his big metal hand firmly on Steve’s buttcheek, getting another piece of that hot, sweet American pie.

“Man, fuck you all,” said Sam, turning around and walking away with his middle fingers raised.

Later, after being permanently banned from every escape room in the state of New York, the team paid the owner of the Risk E Rat’s Pizza at the other end of the mall to close the place so that they could dine in peace. Nat enjoyed the sounds of pouting kindergarteners as they were told to leave. It harmonized well with the sounds of sirens down the way.

“What? There’s a Ms. Pac Man machine at the barbershop down by the Apple store, you ungrateful fucks!” said the crabby old owner. Nat made a note to get his number later.

Most of you sat around a table eating cheap, stale-crust pizza. Meanwhile, Stark was off showing Bucky how to feel up the Justine the Teen Dream animatronic’s breasts, seeing if it would make him straight again (it wouldn’t).

“So,” said Steve, his futile attempts to masticate his “pizza” failing him, so he just swallowed the gummy dough and moved on. Kiddie pizza is nasty. “So, this is awkward.”

“How are we gonna spin this one, guys? Green Guy wasn’t even with us this time,” said Tony as he and Bucky returned, Bucky looking confused and disoriented as he sat down next to Steve again.

“Fury is going to be…ugh…”

“What is it, dearest?” asked Loki as your train of thought left the station.

You shrugged as your mind struggled. “I had a word in my head but my brain dropped it. Fury is going to be…uh….what a synonym for being really, really angry? Fury will be that.”

You all stared at one another in silence, none of you sure what to say next.

Another minute of quiet.

“Well, what do we do now?”

Loki shrugged and looked directly into the imaginary POV camera your brain is using to picture this story right now as you read these words. “It’s up to the author to finish the story,” he said with a grin.

FUCK.

“...so, don’t just leave us sitting here!” protested Nat. “You’re the one literally putting words in our mouths!”

I’M BLITZED, GUYS. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?

“Just cut to us getting back to the Tower or something,” said Steve.

I’M NOT THAT CHEAP, STEVE.

“So, what now?” you asked.

WELL, HOW DO YOUR USUAL WRITERS END AN ADVENTURE?

“With a massive all out battle!” Thor jumped onto the table, raising his hammer high.

I’M NOT DOING THAT. MY THAI FOOD’S ALMOST HERE.

“So, again I ask…now what?” you repeated.

The author paused for a moment before typing out her final commands.

OKAY, THOR, GO BACK TO THE ESCAPE ROOM AND APOLOGIZE FOR BLOWING UP THE STORE. THAT WAS RUDE.

Thor dropped his head and pouted. “Okay.” He sauntered off into the mall, toward the sounds of the sirens.

NOW BUCKY, GET YOUR HAND OFF STEVE’S BUTT AND THE TWO OF YOU GO PRETEND TO BE HETEROSEXUAL FOR THE DISNEY-PLUS RELEASE OF THIS EPISODE. WE CAN’T BE SCARING OFF THE SWEET CHINESE GOVERNMENT DOLLARS, NOW.

Bucky whimpered as he took his hand back. Steve winked and kissed his forehead before stepping back and punching him square in the shoulder. “Vaginas, amirite?”

“Hell yeah, vaginas!”

They walked off into the sunset dude-bro punching each others’ shoulders the whole way.

NAT, I KINDA FORGOT WHAT TO DO WITH YOU. SORRY. ERRR…HERE’S FIFTY BUCKS.

A fifty appeared in Nat’s hand. “Cool. I could buy a gun with this!” She walked out.

HEY TONY, CAN YOU NOT BE SUCH A TWATWAFFLE NEXT TIME? I’M RUNNING OUT OF FIC IDEAS THAT INCLUDE YOUR MAIN CHARACTER TRAIT NOT BEING A QUIP MACHINE.

Tony shrugged as he began to make his exit. “Hey, that’s all the MCU’s writers think I am, anyway. I’ll be off doing science somewhere.”

As Tony walked away, everyone left could hear him singing “I’m just a quip machine, and I don't work for nobody but youuuu…”

SO, NOW IT’S JUST YOU TWO.

“Hey,” said Loki cautiously.

“...yep,” you added.

“So, what commands do you have for us?” Loki asked.

I DON’T KNOW…GO HAVE WILD HOT MONKEY SEX SOMEWHERE.

“Okay!” you said cheerily, grabbing Loki’s hand impatiently dragging him toward the exit while he looked at the author with alarmed confusion. “But why do we have to include a monkey--?”

As the pair of you flew out of sight, the author looked around the Word document, and saw that it probably wasn’t all that great…but it was still more coherent than Finnegan’s Wake, so that surely counted for something.

So she closed the laptop.

Taggies for the possibly-innerested: @anukulee @buckyownsmylife @coldnique @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtiggerv2 @gruftiela @glitterylokislut @glitchquake @holymultiplefandomsbatman @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @joyful-enchantress @loopsisloops @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @peachyjinx @silverfire475 @simplyholl @texmexdarling @trickster-maiden @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

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Truly Desperate: Clandestine F*cks [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader] 18+

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (6) After a girl's night with Wanda, you message Loki for a late-night rendezvous in the underground garage. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smut. Alcohol consumption (full consent). Soft Dom! Loki. Edging. Denial. Dirty Talk. PV/Oral Sex. Established/Secret relationship.

“I know you’re getting some. I just know it…” Wanda slurred, emptying the last dregs of the wine bottle into her glass. “Just because you’re getting off on that perfectly constructed cock every night…” you rolled your eyes, hoping the sarcasm was convincing. Wanda’s hand pawed at your cheek as she swayed slightly, an attempt at a coy smile dancing on her lips, “I might be drunk, Y/N... but I’m not wrong.” She leant back on the sofa, swirling her wine like a brandy. Her arched eyebrows rose in self-assurance as she regarded you suspiciously, “and I think I know who it is...you naughty girl.” Your stomach twisted. The warm butterflies of tipsiness became sparrow wings beating to be free. Wanda was your best friend, but once the lid was open there was no closing it. What was that old saying? You couldn't un-milk a cow? Well, it was true. And you certainly couldn't un-fuck a god.

“I bet he’s amazing in bed…” she narrowed her gaze as she said it, searching your face unsubtly for clues. “I bet he’s very eager to please…” Bravery soared in your chest at the thought of sharing your delicious secret, the alcohol in your blood making you want to give her all the gory details she craved. You drained your glass. The words were on the tip of your tongue. Wanda, I’m fucking Loki Laufeyson. “It’s Steve, isn’t it.” she said confidently, taking a sip of wine. You spluttered with shock as she began to laugh, her eyebrows rising again as she waited for confirmation. “Wanda, I am not fucking Steve fucking Rogers...oh my god…are you crazy?” you squealed, brushing wine droplets from your bare legs. She hummed, releasing a tiddly giggle as she fell back again against the sofa, “well...someone should” she said thoughtfully, stumbling over her words. “Oh, speaking of– wait until I tell you what Vis did in bed last week. You’re not going to believe this…” –

After forty minutes, and another glass of wine, you had messaged Loki. Twenty minutes, garage it had said. With pleasure he’d replied. You tugged at your dress, the loose jersey brushing against your thighs as you made your way down the stairs to the base of the Tower, a sprawling space brimming with every imaginable vehicle. It was past one a.m and the hallways had been deserted. Cool air breezed under your dress as you pulled open the side-door leading to the back of the subterranean maze. You passed Bucky’s motorbike strewn haphazardly, smirking at how dangerously close it was parked to Steve’s vintage chevy. “Good morning.” Loki purred from the shadows, emerging with his cheekbones cutting sharply in the barely lit space. You squealed, skipping over to where he had leant against the wall. “Someone’s in a good mood" he drawled quietly, "Happy to see me?”

“Alllllways…” you sang, sliding your hands around his waist. Loki’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching yours, “Y/N are you...intoxicated?” You looked up at him coyly, pinching your thumb and forefinger together as he pursed his lips disapprovingly. "I don’t think this is a good idea…” he murmured as you grasped at his collar.

“Loki, I’m fine! Wanda had most of it -I’m just a little tipsy...” you said, kissing up to his ear, releasing a short moan before biting his earlobe, “...and horny.” He looked at you intently, his big, beautiful eyes laced with concern. “If you feel unwell, or you wish to end things...tell me.” he said firmly. You giggled before stopping abruptly under his penetrating stare, pressing your fingers to your lips, “Yes, sir. Understood...sir.” you murmured, straight-faced. “Very well” he said, his concerns satisfied, “I have a surprise for you. I thought after the last near miss down here we would benefit from a small upgrade.” A black key fob appeared with a flick of his hand, his thumb pressing it as the heavy sound of doors unlocking briefly thundered in the empty garage. Your eyes widened as you sourced the noise. “The armoured truck?” you said, mouth gaping as he nodded smugly. “I procured the entry mechanism from operations this morning after our...encounter in the showers. Bulletproof. Bombproof. Soundproof” he winked. “When you say procured…” you said, narrowing your eyes at Loki who shrugged, his eyebrows slanting innocently. “Stole? Yes.” he said expectantly, noting your disapproval with a wave of his hand. “Well, they have prevented any of my enchantments taking hold within the building, so I don’t see how I was left with any choice.” You shook your head, sidling over to him and sliding your palms up his chest. “Let’s stay out here, it was really hot last time…” you said, edging him towards the wall. “Darling, last time you were forced to imitate a choking fit with my cock buried inside you when my brother came through that very side-door…” You smiled. He was so hot when he faked disapproval. “You love it” you growled, emboldened by the tingling warmth in your blood as you watched his eyebrows rise in amusement. “You love all the sneaking around and the clandestine fucking, you love it...you fucking love it don’t you? You bad boy...”

“That’s no way to talk to a prince, love" he said softly, warning peppering his tone as you raised one knee to his hip, willing him to relent. Love. You had said that word a lot just now, hadn't you. Did you mean to do that? And he had said it too. Just once. Hadn’t he? Your stomach flipped. Loki’s fingers snaked to grip your bare thigh against his hip, skirting his hand further up the hem of your dress. A growl rumbled in his throat, his intense stare darkening with lust. You bit your lip, his eyes following its progress as you drew it gently between your teeth.

“Nornnns darling…” he groaned, before slipping his tongue greedily into your mouth. Your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, the familiar metal fastenings coming away easily under your touch. “Uhhhhh, Y/N…” he moaned against your cheek, your hand curling around his length, gliding gently from root to tip, “you really are a little god-slut aren’t you.”

“Only for you... sir” you whispered, as you guided his straining cock between your legs. You rubbed him gently against your wet entrance, watching his eyes light up with anticipation. “No panties? Good girl” he murmured warmly, “you’re learning.” Loki’s hands found their way to your waist, lifting you to wrap both legs around his hips. Through desperate kisses you realised you were in motion before your back lowered to meet cool metal. You let out a sharp sigh as the god’s cock finally filled you. Two days had been too long. Far too long. You arched your back to meet his first thrust, a needy moan from your lips filling the still air. Loki held your hips steady, his torso straight as he watched his manhood disappear inside your tight, wet cunt. So ready for him. Always so ready for him. He exhaled deeply; the walls of your channel flexing to settle against his thick girth. Waves of pleasure rolled as he watched your hips rise and fall to meet his slow rhythm. As he pleasured you. Serviced you. Fucked you on the hood of Rogers prize car.

“Uhhhhhh...you take my cock so well, darling...do you k-know that?” he moaned through strained breaths. The sight of you keening into him against the carefully polished metal. Your pathetic little dress all dishevelled around your hips. It was making him feral. “Godssss….yessss oh.fuck.yes.” He really had been saving himself. Your mind flashed to his dirty whispers in your ear this morning. How he stroked himself to you. Bringing himself to the edge. Those hands mercilessly pleasuring his own cock to thoughts of you together. But I didn’t cum, he’d said. I’m saving it all for you. “Oh darling...that’s it” he groaned loudly, as you tightened the grip of your legs, pulling him closer. Needy whines flew higher from your lips with every flourish of his hips as he guided you fluidly back and forth. You couldn’t take your eyes from him as he towered above.

His head was thrown back, dark hair sprawled against his shoulders. His eyes were closed, brows raised as he felt every incandescent moment of pleasure your willing body gave him. As you watched, Loki’s mouth dropped open, panting dirty phrases to the concrete ceiling; savouring his Valhalla buried between your open thighs. His smouldering gaze lowered. With one agonisingly delicious curve of his hips he slowly bottomed out, bending to hover over your sprawled torso. “Do you remember what I told you in the showers, kitten?” he whispered, barely audible over the thumping blood in your ears. You nodded feverishly, willing him to continue his ravishment of your sodden core. Orgasms bestowed by Loki were addictive, like nothing else. Nothing compared. You moaned in frustration as he shook his head.

“Remind me, darling…” he goaded, withdrawing every pulsating inch of himself as slowly as he had entered.

He wrapped his hands around your calves, drawing them forward and hoisting your legs over his thick forearms, trapping them solidly in the crook. You slid further down the bonnet of Steve’s chevy with a squeak, the metal tugging against your dampening skin. The realisation of how exposed you were washed over you. Legs spread wide as the god of mischief railed you against the captain’s favourite toy. If someone came through that door, thick concrete walls or not...there would be no choking your way out of this one. You propped yourself up on your elbows, attempting to diffuse his games with a sultry stare. Your gaze drew up Loki’s tight torso. Creases of rippling muscles outlined against his shirt with every breath. His chiselled jaw was set, that mighty cock rubbing teasingly at your entrance as he awaited your response. You weren’t going to win. Your breath hitched as he rubbed his manhood against your clit. “You said you were s-saving it for me…” you whispered, suddenly shy. He cocked an eyebrow, licking his lips as his regal gaze narrowed; “And?” “Delaying...your...g-gratification, fuckkk-”

He breached you. An inch, nothing more. You clenched around the tip; head falling back as your hips attempted to thrust upward.

“And?” he purred again, tauntingly. You squirmed beneath him, trying to force yourself further down his cock. His palms pressed against the backs of your thighs, keeping you in your place like the good girl you were. “You were desperate...making yourself ahhhh- desperate…” He slid into you further, not even a quarter of his hard length gently pulsing inside your channel, grazing every sizzling nerve. His hips swayed gently at your entrance. Making you wait. You fell back against the car bonnet with a dramatic thud, hands over your face. Loki chuckled darkly, pausing for effect with a sharp intake of breath. “And?” The back of your hand pressed against your forehead as you moaned beneath him, thrashing with frustration as he held you steady. How could he feel this good? How could anything feel this good? The god was silent, a thoughtful smile curling at the edges of his lips. Between your needy whines, the only sound you could hear was a soft slurp of friction as the tip of his cock dipped teasingly between your dripping folds. You took a shaky breath, brow creasing as you recalled his words through the haze of whirling need. “Y-you said...you were...w-were going to fill me with your hot...hot..uhhhh...hot cum-” you groaned; your back arching off the bonnet as he delivered another tantalising inch before halting. “That was all...that was it! Loki!” you whined loudly, fists falling with a thud against the metal; deliverance snatched away. You looked up at your teasing lover with pleading eyes, his amusement palpable as his fingertips gripped your needy flesh.

“So hasty, pet...” he tutted, biting his lip as he circled his hips; making your eyes roll back. You felt him begin to thumb your exposed clit, cool skin sliding effortlessly against the wet slick of your mess. It was slow; calculated. It was perfection.

“I don’t think you’re quite desperate enough yet...” he said, the stoicism of his words shuddering across your skin. Your gaze travelled reluctantly upwards, meeting his. You had been on the verge of orgasm for what felt like an hour. He couldn’t be serious. In a flash, Loki slid his half-sheathed cock from your body and sank to his knees. Before you could protest, his tongue began lapping at your entrance; the heavenly feeling cascading in debilitating waves. “Oh Lokiiiii…” you hissed, spreading your arms across the car hood to steady you. He chuckled against your delicate folds before drawing them between his lips, sucking you gently. Words struggled to form between heavy sighs, gyrating against his face buried deep between your legs.

He released muffled moans below you, those large hands pushing your thighs higher to reach the back of your slit. Every swirl was a fresh plateau of excruciating pleasure. You could feel your climax rising again, the soft stripe of his tongue against your centre rocking you closer; you were coming, you were com- “Are you truly desperate now, darling? " he murmured coyly as he surfaced; rising and planting his palms on either side of your sprawled body as you slid ungracefully down the bonnet. "Are you as desperate for me as I am for you? As I have been for days?" he muttered darkly, hoisting you to your original position. Your legs folded around his hips as you pathetically moaned his name. It was begging. You were begging. “Say it. Say the words, pet…” he goaded, rubbing his thick cock against your devastatingly wet entrance, slick with his enthusiasm. “I’m desperate, Loki.” you groaned through gritted teeth, staring up at him as you clutched his shirt in your fist. His cheekbones flashed in the gloom as he smirked knowingly.

“Yes, you are Agent. Aren’t you?” You shivered, his commanding tone demolishing the last of your restraint. You tugged his shirt roughly, sealing his lips to yours with a hungry kiss. Finally, mercifully...he filled you, bottoming out as he let out a breathy moan of your name. His thrusts were primal; the pound from his strong hips jutting you backwards against the polished surface with every snap. You pulled him closer, feeling his body tighten as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Godsss, Y/N... what you do to me with your games” he muttered between animalistic groans. “Don’t stop, Loki...please...don’t…” you whined as your allusive climax crested for a third time. Loki’s pants grew louder, hair falling over your face as he encased you, his torso flush against your chest. You came with a strangled cry, louder than you intended; the intensity shaking your spent body.

Loki followed with a staggered intake of breath; his face scrunched in pleasure as he finally emptied inside you. He bit his lip as a tremor rolled through him, thighs trembling as his deep, rapturous groan reverberated to every corner of the concrete ceiling. His forehead pressed against your shoulder as you both caught your breath, the scent of sex heavy in the air. You felt a thick stream of Loki's seed slide from you as he withdrew, pooling between your thighs on the polished car bonnet. Steve would not be impressed. “If I didn’t know better darling, I’d say you wanted to be caught…” he said, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear before tucking himself inside his trousers. You smiled shyly, the heady mix of sex and wine catching up with you as you rose, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. “Do you mind if I stay in your room tonight?” you whispered. “Of course, darling” he murmured against your hair, “my bed is always open to you. You know that.” The fluttering in your chest became faster, nerves twisting in your belly as you began over-analysing his words.

It wasn’t the thought of Thor breaking down the door to discover you in Loki’s arms that made you afraid. Or the clandestine walk to and from the elevators. Always separate. Always wary.

You looked up at him, praying that your eyes didn’t betray the unbidden feelings burning through your blood.

His bed was open, yes. But was his heart?

Tags @lokischambermaid @ladylovesloki @lady-rose-moon @gigglingtigger @wheredafandomat @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @vbecker10 @dead069ssworld @dustychinchilla74 @handsaroundmyneck @dangertoozmanykids101 @michelleleewise @lokisninerealms @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @xorpsbane @ficitve-sl0th @holymultiplefandomsbatman @ravenwings73 @amethyst-reblogs @brokenthelovely @thedistractedagglomeration @mischief2sarawr @ladymischief11 @mcufan72 @sititran @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @lokis-tigress @chantsdemarins @lokiprompts @lyn-soso @absentmindeduniverse @demoiseller @moonlightreader649 @lulubelle814 @yelkmelk @ozymdias @five-miles-over @muddyorbs

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739 notes · View notes

jq37 · 9 days

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The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 14 Sleuthing and Scantrons

Welcome back to Fantasy High where we are back from winter break and hitting the ground running starting with our girl Kristen who just learned that the proselytizing patriarch of the Dawn clan–Bobby Dawn–is her new Cleric teacher.

Kristen decides to not make waves and just vibe out the situation. Bobby isn’t doing anything obviously out of pocket like calling people heathens, but his vibe is way preacher-y than Yolanda’s more neutral academic style and Kristen can clock that he’s giving certain kids a harder time than others (likely based on their choice of deity).

We’re still on downtime so let’s run through Kristen's tracks.

She thinks about doing a Mystery roll to learn more about Ankarna but rolls Academics first for a 19. A+.

Next, she rolls Popularity and she specifically wants to hit up Gertie. She passes with room to spare on a 21 and, amidst some awkward flirting that at least Gertie seems super into, asks her some questions about the Devil’s Honey. Gertie says that she hasn’t made a ton–just a few bottles. The nectar you need to make it is pretty rare. Her client (the trucks and thus, presumably KP) ordered two bottles right after the new year which is twice as many as she got last time. Kristen tries to get Gertie to switch the honey with a placebo but Gertie isn’t willing to lie so she settles for Gertie reporting back on if they ask for any more (which is logged into the school records anyway). With the logs, Kristen can see that the first delivery of Devil's Nectar happened a week or two after spring break last year--this is before Lucy even died.

After that she has a Relationship roll and wants to finally have that chat with her parents. On a 27 they have a reasonably cordial meeting at Krom’s Diner. Her whole fam is there–brothers and parents. Her parents are pretty happy that Bobby Dawn is the new cleric teacher (though the have a foot in mouth moment when they realize that Yolanda was murdered and not fired like they thought and that they were basically just celebrating a woman’s non-Helio sanctioned murder).Bucky’s happy to see his sister and a little bummed that he hasn’t been able to convert anyone in his party to Helioism.

She asks how her parents feel about Gal and their vibe is like, “Shrug, she’s fine.” Not Helio but she’s not infernal or anything. Kristen floats the idea of her attending church one Sunday–not to come back to the church, just to observe and for her class–but her parents are practically salivating at the opportunity to bring her back into the fold. Her mom specifically points out that it seems kismet that she, as Helio’s chosen (even if she’s not currently in the church), was the one to bring back the sun.

Bucky catches a glimpse of Kristen’s Cass shards and asks about them but, before she can tell him much, her parents cut her off and end the encounter. They tell Kristen they’ll pay for her bill so, naturally, she runs up a huge tab.

Final roll is for her campaign and she gets a Nat 20! She is absolutely crushing it–and why wouldn’t she be? She’s a world saving, total stud who rides with the coolest kid at school, a literal rockstar, and the people’s dork. And her opponent is Kipperlilly, ultimate bad vibes generator. Kristen and KP have a tense standoff where Kristen asks her what’s she’s trying to forget with the devil’s honey and KP tells her to fuck herself.

All of the Bad Kids square up, ready to throw hands on the spot but Oisin–wizard of the Rat Grinders–breaks it up. There is a long beat of the Bad Kids trying to recruit Mary Ann for reasons that are beyond me that you’ll just have to watch for yourself and the Bad Kids declare that all the RG’s are a lost cause except for her. Adaine, in an uncharacteristically un-aggro move for her–says that the wizard actually seems kind of cool and Brennan asks for a Perception check.

She rolls like trash but everyone wants to know what the cute wizard thinks about her and social engineer some romance for their girl so they pile on the buffs to turn her four into a dirty 20. With them coaxing her to pay better attention, they see that Oisin is waiting to say something to her–he casts the Message cantrip and gives her a quick, “Sorry,” to apologize for her friends’ behavior. Then their whole crew heads out. Fig reveals that she’s the one behind the entire Complicated Women Podcast. Where does your web of deceit end Figueroth???

Next up to run through tracks is Gorgug.

First track is Barb and he crushes it with a 26. Porter is so proud. A+!

Next is Artificer (Brennan only makes him roll once, not three times) and he gets a 31! He’s officially a Barbificer which means he can hold concentration on pre-cast spells while raging. Henry is super proud of him too! He gets some more cool gadgets so he’s all twins-y with Riz. Green guys with gadgets!

His next track is Mystery and here’s where things get juicy. He wants to dig into Henry’s deal and, with Flash of Genius, gets a 20. He snoops around Henry's desk before his class one day and finds a note from Ruben asking for a ride home, nothing about the Cloud Rider engine, and some Grix parts along with his notes which seem to indicate that fixing Grix isn't his top priority and he's gonna leave it until Aguefort is back. Suddenly, Gorgug hears something from outside the door--a conversation between Henry and Jace. Jace says that he got Henry's letter about Ruben and he's just there to assure him that everything is fine. Henry doesn't sound super assured and wants to have a more in depth meeting but Jace gets pretty aggro pretty quick. He says he's too busy for that and they should meet at the school year when Aguefort is back and when Henry pushes back on that, Jace Misty Steps to be all up in his face and says he should keep his fucking nose out of other people's business. Henry walks into the class, clearly shaken, and Gorgug plays dumb effectively, slipping on his headphones like he didn’t hear anything.

Finally, he rolls Owlbears and fails. Rather than push it (which would make him take his fifth token) he decides his heart isn’t in it and drops Owlbears. Fabian and Gorthalax are both disappointed, even though they understand. Riz gets promoted from off the bench to fill his spot, much to his glee. Fabian and Kristen both try to roll relaxation but they fail (which has no mechanical downside).

Speaking of Riz, let’s do his tracks next!

As always he does Academics first and rolls a 31. DC to find the Rogue Prof is 30 which means he’s right on her trail! We don’t resolve that this episode but Brennan says that he finds Eugenia Shadow’s (the teacher) death records which means that, as they suspected from episode 1 of this season, she’s almost certainly a ghost.

Extracurriculars with disadvantage is a dirty 20 so he’s still on top of those.

Third roll is a Mystery roll to try and figure out how the Rat Grinders became the Rat Grinder from the High 5 Heroes. A 23 is only enough for some basic clues which are as follows. From Gertie, he learns that part of what makes Devil’s Honey work to make you a good liar is it makes you in the moment believe what you’re saying which erases some of the tells of lying from your expression and body language. It also allows you to lie without speaking which is useful for Wizards speaking telepathically AND for its original purpose: lying in prayer. Fig thinks this could maybe be used to pray effectively through doubt. Riz also catches Jawbone (who just finished giving a muffin to a hard at work Adaine–cute!) and asks about Kipperlily and her finding the rogue teacher. Jawbone says it was all above board though she did find her crazy fast–8:01 on the first day, literally the first minute it was possible. (Adaine/Shiv remembers at this point that she has ethereal vision and can def help Riz find a ghost). Jawbone mentions that the people at the morgue are trying to do something about the runes on Lucy and Yolanda and racing the clock before rezzing them because borderline impossible--they're getting close to the one year limit with Lucy. Riz knows there’s more info he can get but it would mean stealing the file from Jawbone and listen. He’s a good guy rule follower but he’s also a Rogue baybee. Nat 20 to snatch it with Jawbone none the wiser. Brennan says that he’ll properly dig into it later but, for at a quick glance, he sees that she's been coming to the counselor since Freshman year for anger issues and that his name is in the file for some reason. Mysterious!

Fourth roll is Owlbears and, with a portent roll from Adaine, he manages to hang on and not totally flame out. I like to imagine she literally used her oracle magic to predict what was gonna happen and drilled the moves he needed to not get tackled into his head like DDR steps.

Last up is our girl Fig!

She does her Work track first and actually works on her album properly for the first time in ages. With an insane plus 20 to Performance (????) she gets an ungodly 38 and writes the most metal song ever which is an 8 minute epic about gods and devils which requires Adaine to make a magical copy of Gorgug just so he can play the drum part. It’s called Dawn of Justice and it rocks so epically hard that she is able to inadvertently magically call dibs on Ankarna. No one can rez the goddess but her. She also casts Find Greater Steed and is able to summon the horse that Ankarna used the gifted wedding bridle on So, clearly Fig took those warnings about Ankarna finding worshippers super to heart!

[Note: My notes say that the bridle was a gift from Ruvina to Cass actually, but hey. I guess when you're married what's mine is yours and all that.]

Next track is Paladin and she gets a 29. A+! While she’s working with Porter, she asks him about the Mountains of Chaos which she thinks is on another plane but he clarifies it’s just up north and parties go there to clear dungeons all the time–including the Rat Grinders many times. That’s news to me because this is the first we’re hearing of them doing anything besides stepping on rats.

Next for Fig is Mystery and she wants to use her Dream spell to visit Lola. In Lola's dream, she's remembering a email between her and Ruben about the podcast (Fig realizes she never followed up on that) and also she sees that Lola was talking to Ruben with Jace CC'd. Fig appears as herself in the dream and tries to be like, “Hey, I talked to Jace, cut me in on the plan.” Lola wants to know if she wants to go back on tour because Ruben just canceled, which surprised both me and Fig. But Fig hides it well and is like, “Yeah, Ruben just canceled, that’s why I want in.” She gets a Nat 1 Insight so Lola seems pretty clueless about a plan. When Fig floats the idea of Jace being a part of a plan to summon a god, Lola says she has no idea what she's talking about and Jace isn't a planner, he just gets in her way. But what she sees as him being a nuisance looks a lot like clues. Apparently Jace doesn't want Ruben touring and he was the one who made Ruben get Frosty Folk moved to the Thislespring Tree. Fig stores away that info and then warps the dream into something normal (by dream standards) to cover her tracks as she gets out of there.

Lastly, she wants to leave a note for Zara saying, “Hey not coming to class this week” but Brennan has her roll and apparently the note is an excellent example of attempting to get your way that Zara respects because it’s still a 34 and and A+! Our kids are doing really well!

Except, here’s the thing. They’re not actually. Or at least, Kristen isn’t. It’s mid April now, just like IRL, and grades have come out. Kristen is failing Cleric classes again. She’s expelled.

Everyone is outraged. She’s been working so hard under insanely difficult circumstances! They march to Jawbone’s office to get answers and he sees the problem. Yolanda made allowances that let her be a cleric with a dead god but Bobby got rid of that. He said no god is an automatic failure. Riz is so stressed that he elects to take a fourth stress token. Gotta respect Murph for the move but that’s crazy.

[Note: This doesn’t become relevant in this ep but it’s mentioned around here so I just wanna say, Riz hasn’t had a chance to dig into KP’s file yet but there’s something about her going to a cemetery in Ashgrove which he connects to the ghost Rogue teacher. Also, they all share the info they learned in downtime.]

ANYWAY, the Bad Kids are ready to throw hands once again and head for Bobby Dawn’s classroom, but Kristen has them all wait in the hall while she confronts him and she tries a novel tactic. She goes in crying. She claims that her Cass shards have been destroyed and that she’s lost and directionless. She gets a 26 on her Deception and Adaine, with all the quiet confidence of the elven Oracle, says that Bobby gets a 1 on his Insight roll. Kristen says she’s ready to come back to the fold and allows Bobby to pray with her but when she asks about the paperwork to get her reinstated at school, he’s not interested in that. He believes that she’s sincere but he’s not gonna break rules or make allowances for her. Kristen gets the sense that he actively wants her to be expelled for some reason and he got what he wanted.

Her friends are outside, practically salivating as they get ready to kick some Foghorn Leghorn ass, but Jawbone shows up and says that they qualify for The Last Standard–aka the Last Stand Exam–and they all decide that that’s a better first option than murdering ANOTHER faculty member. As Kristen leaves, Bobby Dawn gives her a bit of advice that seems to point to her falling in line and being Helio’s chosen again and Kristen calls him a control freak and says he’ll never win–which is a satisfying way to leave a room but a waste of a great Deception roll! The other kids cast various spells on him so he smells like shit the rest of the day because they’re all loyal, petty gremlins.

Jawbone explains what exactly the Last Stand is. It’s an endurance test that replicates the conditions of a desperate last stand. They’ll have to answer questions while waves and waves of monsters try to kill them. Adaine and Riz are the only ones excited about the questions. There will be 12 questions (two for each of them) and a proctor. They lose 30 points (Out of 100) if the proctor (who is some rando named Gavin Pundle) dies. There will be a cleric on hand to rez them if they die but it’s more like when they die. We don’t learn this until later but this isn’t an exam where you’re not expected to TPK. But hypothetically you could stay up the whole time because there’s a limited amount of monsters. Also, it’s not like you die, you're out. Kristen can still rez her friends. It’s just a TPK that ends it all. And one more piece of info I’m gonna give you early to keep the rules together. The questions they have to answer are not rolls. They are timed questions/challenges that the actual at the table players have to answer in real life. But they do have a lifetime. Remember how Gorgug won a mysterious academic resource for getting double Nat 20s in his classes earlier in the year? Well that gets the party a stamp that they can use on two of their questions before the time runs out to skip it without penalty. OK, that’s everything! Got it? Good. The Bad Kids get a good night’s sleep and the next day, it’s time for the Last Stand!

The Last Stand is held in some kind of extra dimensional pocket dimension full of illusory, cheering Agueforts. Buddy Dawn is the volunteer cleric on duty and the group seems wary of him even though he’s taken a divine oath that will strip him of his magic if he fails to rez them.

Because the Bad Kids are doing so well in school, they get a grace period to set up a bunch of buffs and readied actions and stuff. You already know the drill–I’m not gonna do a play by play of every single spell, buff, and attack for this fight but I’ll give highlights. Kristen casts Death Ward on the proctor (great forethought) and Adaine summons Moggy the Doggy to protect him. Fabian has the Hangman and summons some rats (Adaine is happy that Fabian is using her present). Adaine summons the Dry Guys and does Mirror Image. Fig disguises herself as the Proctor, summons Ankarna’s fiery steed as well as spirit guardians, and does Armor of Ayda on herself and her mount. Riz has his Mage Hand out. I’m sure I’m missing stuff but the point is, they’re buffed as hell and ready to go. They pump themselves up with a Hoot Growl chant and then it’s off to the races!

The first wave of monsters includes an otyugh, a gorgon, a steel bull, a hydra, skeletons, and three ochre jellies. Brennan tells them that they’re literally at adventuring school so it’s not meta gaming to know things like you have to cauterize a Hyrdra’s neck lest two more heads grow in its place or that jellies are weak to fire.

Highlights!

Riz does CRAZY damage with all his rogue stuff. Adaine and Gorgug do a cool tag team where he cuts a Hydra head off by boomeranging its head off with an ax before she cauterizes it with a Chromatic Orb. Emily/Fig throws away her dice cause she’s rolling SO BAD.

At the top of the next round, Riz gets the first folder with a test question. There is one marked Investigation and one marked History. He grabs the Investigation and Brennan hands him an actual Scantron (everyone hated that) with the phrase “Bony Girth” written on it before turning over an hourglass. They’re allowed to work together on these and we get to see some teamwork in action. Ally and Murph both realize right away that it’s an anagram. Murph gets the word Night and Ally hits him and says, “Night Yorb!” A “Correct” stamp graphic hits the dome. They got one!

Fabian goes for a folder as well and his choices are Athletics and Common. He goes for Athletics but the desk turns out to be a mimic and attacks him. He just tanks the damage because he doesn’t have the time to fight it. This is a multiple choice question about who the Owlbears’ rival team is. They're between the Buccaneers and the Hellions. Siobhan thinks it’s the Buccaneers since Bastion City is right nearby but realizes that Lou is correct when he says that that’s actually the professional team that Ragh is trying out for, not their high school team. Lou says Hudol Hellions and that’s another one in the bag!

More highlights!

Fabian makes quick work of the Hydra, doing a ton of fancy Fighter moves to cleave the rest of its heads and then sending in the Hangman in dog form to fire breath all the neck stumps. Fig Fireballs the otyugh and two of the jellies! Gorgug gets TWO NAT 20s in a row plus another hit to get the bull from 100% to bloodied.

And to close out the episode, Kristen sends a quick prayer up to Cass and then does Turn Undead, destroying all the skeletons on the field. Whatever else happens in this fight, you can’t deny that the Bad Kids are off to an amazing start. Let’s hope they can keep the momentum going as we head into the second half of the Last Stand, next week!

Detention

Bobby Dawn for Failing Kristen

I knew I wouldn’t need to wait long to put him on my shit list. He can absolutely go to hell for saying that letting Kristen remain in class was “against the rules” somehow. That’s a simple exercise of discretion! And if anything, isn’t it more impressive that Kristen is still running circles around other clerics with a dead(ish) god? That her god is still able to communicate with her in this state? ALSO, if we’re getting technical, Cass isn’t actually dead! We've established that. She’s, as Miracle Max said, only mostly dead which is still partially alive! I know this needed to happen to force the Last Stand but he can still jump into a lake. I hate that, even when she's actually earnestly and effectively applying herself, Kristen is getting smacked down by the system.

(Also, I have to assume Helio died for three days at some point and came back since he’s basically frat bro corn Jesus. Gods die and come back! It’s a thing! It’s a thing that they do!)

Honor Roll

All of the Bad Kids for Loyalty and Badassery

I really couldn’t pick this week so I decided to just give it to all of them. I tried to do a more in depth recap this week to really highlight the coolness of everyone. I think they have especially good team synergy this week from trying to help Adaine get her kisses in to being ready to throw down for Kristen. And everyone got at least one major piece of Mystery info in their downtime rolls. Not to mention how strong they came out for the first part of the Last Stand. I’m just super impressed and I love them individually and as a unit!

Random Thoughts

OK so obviously the biggest red flag right now is Jace. As I pointed out in the last recap, he was there talking to Kalina in the conversation Ragh saw and now we have two more suspicious actions from him. Now I’m questioning his other actions too. Like, making Riz a part of the interim staff. Was that in order to make sure he fell under the staff category for an ulterior motive bylaws related reason? And is he fully working with The Rat Grinders? He’s a sorc but what origin? What if he’s divine soul and wrapped into this god stuff somehow?

(This could be nothing but the other big loose end besides the above that’s been stuck in my craw in Soph year is Sandra-Lynn talking about a couple that made things hard for her and I’ve always wondered if Jace was involved there.)

Handing a Nat 1 portent roll to your DM must feel like doing drugs.

Kipperlily had had rage issues since Freshman year, huh? Does that mean she’s been in league with the corrupted Ankarna since then or just a really easy target? And why would Riz’s name be in her file? I so badly want to know what else is in that file. Brennan, I know you need to control the pacing of the story to some degree but in no world does Riz see his name in that file and go, “Welp I’ll check that out later.” Absolutely not.

Also, two more Rat Grinder points. KP ordered the honey BEFORE Lucy died? That’s suspicious. And Porter confirmed that they’ve been to the Mountains of Chaos many times which means our understanding of their activities has been off. Like, I suppose it’s obvious that they must have been doing more than literally just stepping on rats because we know they’re making moves, but this seems a bit out of left field. Though it does answer the question of what they likely did for their Sophomore Year quest because that’s been incongruent. Multiple times is also pretty suspicious. That points to going there for a specific reason. Also, that’s where the celestial gods were traveling en route to Cass’s wedding. Maybe there’s a connection there. Were they searching for Ankarna’s name?

Maybe I’m just being paranoid and I know Riz literally tattooed Night Yorb stuff onto his body of his own free will but a part of me wonders whether a part of that wasn’t a bit of Sol/Helio manipulation trying to get Kristen back as a cleric. Like, her mom is right. Her bringing back the sun could have been a dramatic prodigal daughter moment.

Buddy mentioned Bucky being “led astray” a few eps ago and I’m really curious to know exactly what that means because he seemed to be mostly in good little paladin mode this ep besides some slight curiosity about Kristen’s shards.

In addition to the moment with Bobby Dawn, Kristen tipped her hand AGAIN In this ep to when she revealed that she knew about the Devil’s Honey. Like, girl. I know you love a dramatic mic drop but keep some secrets, damn!

Curious about what was written on the physical note that Emily gave Brennan when she said she was skipping Zara’s class.

Where did Ally’s “girl Winnie the Pooh” bit come from? It was so confident and out of nowhere that I burst out laughing.

Brennan has been doing such a great job with battle eps this season. We’ve had back to back bangers with really creative mechanics. I can’t wait to see what the other questions are! (This is why I always say I identify with Adaine and Riz most of the BKs)

“The Last Stand” and “Dawn of Justice” are both subtitles of superhero movies. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just weird that it happened twice. Two nickels and all.

Saved this for last–yessssss Oisin. Be apologetic about your friends being weird. Take the extra time to personally apologize to Adaine and only Adaine while her friends to air traffic control signals to get her to pay attention to you. Very happy that everyone at the table seems to be as invested in making this happen as I am (and that Adaine volunteered that she thought Oisin could maybe be cool even when she could have demurred or said nothing or been really harsh like she usually is with the Ratgrinders). I especially love Fig being like, “We’re trying to make this romance happen!” Like, hey girl I got me my wizard paramour, let’s get you yours. Get you a ride or die friend like that.

One last thing! It’s my birthday on Friday and, to celebrate, I made my thesis visual novel free on itch.io for the weekend. It’s called A Tale of Two Sisters and it’s very meta and fairy tale-y and sincere. I put a lot of hard work into it and, if you enjoy my recaps, I’d appreciate you checking it out and leaving a review. Again, it’s totally free for the weekend! I have another game on there that you can check out but that one's free all the time.

#Dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 #d20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #spoilers #Ha! this is the earliest I've ever gotten a recap up!#I can't believe I don't get paid for this #like 4k+ words #the report card

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real-jane · 2 years

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poet laureate

part 1 - [prof bucky barnes x fem!reader]

summary: bucky spent one fateful night with someone he shouldn't have. the guilt drove him to resign from his teaching position. a hasty choice may have been his best mistake.

warnings: discussion of grief/loss. smut in future parts. slowish burn.

a/n: this prompt idea originally came from @thornsnvultures: "I'd love a college au Bucky. English Lit professor!Bucky who loves to teach Tolkien, maybe? 🤔" I hope you enjoy! this will likely be about three parts. all poetry is my own.

series masterlist

– – – – –

Resigning was easy.

Telling her was herculean. How do you tell a woman she’s the reason you quit your job?

Nobody knew about them. They didn’t go out on dates, or steal longing glances at one another in the dim light of the overhead projector, while some freshman stumbled over Hamlet’s soliloquy.

It happened once, a month prior.

One fleeting evening, in a distant city–a footnote on the Summer break, below a citation for an unusually cool August, and the number of students projected to be out with Mononucleosis. But it consumed him.

Nothing occurred between them until her fellowship presentation at a writer’s symposium in Massachusetts, on the brink of the new semester. He wasn’t sure why he went–except she was his best student, his mentee, and she invited him (with a handwritten letter, no less). So he drove four hours to attend her presentation, and immersed himself in her work until he was drunk on her. And she was so exuberant in the afterglow of a standing-room-only exhibition, it was easy to accept her invitation to a dive bar in Amherst afterwards, and pretend like he wasn’t her Graduate Advisor.

She kissed him. Neither of them imbibed–Bucky because he planned to make the trip back to New York that night, and her because she wanted to ‘experience every raw thing.’ Apparently, he qualified. If she wanted a man with a heart still on the vine, she couldn’t have chosen better. There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn’t have snuck him into her room, especially a student building.

But she did, and Bucky experienced something which put him in jeopardy: a thing with no name, something which rooted itself at the base of his spine and began climbing with fury. The moment she fell asleep, he yanked on his trousers and left. He drove back to New York shoeless, sober–ruined. It was unbearable to be without her skin against his; he viciously hungered with nothing to sate him, at his own peril.

The further away from her he got, the more he realized what a mistake it was to feel anything at all.

–

She wasn’t sure which hurt more: waking up alone, or walking into his classroom on the first day of class to find his TA had taken over ‘for the semester’, after spending forty-five minutes hyping herself up to face him again. The interim instructor handed out essays which had been intended as a pre-semester litmus for the class’ overall skill, submitted in the last week before the school year began; Professor Barnes had allegedly graded the papers, but hers had no such notation until the last page. The blue ink there was barely legible. If the first nine words hadn’t been her own, plucked straight out of a poem from her fellowship, she might not have known them at all, but the more she read, the clearer they became:

‘you will do better the less you have of me’ How wise the author. How true of you. I couldn’t bring myself to read this essay. This was a trite assignment compared to the kind of work you showed in your presentation. I have no doubt you served the subject admirably. Your grade will reflect as much. What I did was unfair to you, unethical to my position, and cruel to myself. I’ve resigned. JB

She experienced a hollowing as his fingers reached through the deeply scrawled words, into her chest. A snapped rib would be a comfort by comparison. She froze, staring at the personal note, while memories of him from one beautiful night filtered in. Every one was sallow under scrutiny: His soft kiss, a warning. His bashful smirk, a mask. His socks, forgotten under her bed–the only proof he had been there at all, except for a purple bruise above her left breast, and the scent of his cedar cologne on her pillow.

More than anything, she wished she had woken up when he slipped out of bed, so she could tell him what beauty she saw in him, and thank him for sharing a piece of himself she was sure he rarely showed, if ever. Or that he had the courage to face her in class, share an awkward look, and move on.

His note read like a challenge. Not that he intended it as such. He seemed to be saying I don’t deserve a single thing, and I'll ruin you. Maybe she wanted to be ruined for other men, like the types which clogged academia, with their egos one ducked to avoid. Perhaps the best thing to happen to a woman who made sense of the world through poetry was a man for whom words were a commodity.

She always thought her crush unrequited. She had invited him to her symposium on a brave wine-induced whim, expecting he’d see the Amherst address and beg out. Professor Barnes was the kind of instructor one changed their major for the privilege of studying with. He never minced words, he didn’t deify dead white scribes, and most of the time, he had thoughtful critique–which was as useful as it was cutting. He cared enough about her work to dislike some of it, let alone read it. She became addicted to his feedback, and the twinkle in his blue eyes when some inspiration sparked.

Professor Barnes was handsome, to be sure, but he didn’t wear the designation like a medal. Most of the time, he seemed to have misplaced his razor, he couldn’t keep his hair contained in a tie (draping as it did over his forehead), and he wore long sleeves even in the height of Summer, with the cuffs rucked up to his elbows. His concern was always with his students’ success, not his appearance. It was hard not to adore someone for whom teaching wasn’t his gateway into the arms of popularity or politics.

The only arms he fell into were hers, and he didn’t think himself worthy of that.

She kicked herself for not thinking about how something as simple as asking him for a drink could put him in an ethical conundrum. If the Dean found out he slept with a student, even someone only a few years his junior, he could be fired in disgrace. No wonder he resigned.

She slumped down in her chair. What had she done?

–

He stared at the envelope–well, the corner, anyway, which bore her name. Alpine’s snowy puff of a belly obscured the rest of the words. Bucky’s curiosity got the best of him, and he liberated the letter. The cat made a sullen mewl. He scratched her chin.

He’d wallowed for two days in his dark apartment, so he winced as he turned on the side table lamp. The envelope was postmarked in the East Village, but bore no return address. With one finger, Bucky broke open the seal.

A wave of lilac perfume filled his nostrils, pushing him deeper into the cushions of his sofa. He unfolded the paper within.

JB– Enclosed you’ll find several items which I hope you will do me the honor of reading. As you have deemed any of my non-poetic works ‘trite’ compared to those performed in my workshop, I have also included poems to pad the delivery. I hope this note finds you. I’d wish that it found you well, but you’d think I was being sarcastic. But all I want is for it to reach you, in whatever shape or form you’ve taken. Does that form still give critique? I have to submit three of these poems to complete my thesis by next Monday. You’re still the only person I trust. You’d do better, I think, with *more* of me. If you read the poem more closely, you’d remember the line directly following: ‘but I will waste and waste like something unheavenly’ I’m unheavenly, JB. Please write back. I don’t care if you have nothing to say. Mike will get it to me.

His heart lurched. Mike? The letter was unsigned. She did indeed send poems, eight in total. He read them. Three, four times. The more he perused them, the lighter he felt.

He chose his favorites, or at least his top five (not including the two he gave honorable mention), and wrote down his thoughts as quickly as his fingers could go under each poem, as he had in the run up to her fellowship, attempting to advise her all the way from New York–’it’s a vivid word but ‘aqueous’ drags, pick something which doesn’t take away from the cadence’--’you’ve got something here, I wonder how it would read if you broke at conjunctions’--’this isn’t hitting. I think it’s got something to do with the focus. It’s too outward. Point inward, you’ll be there.’

Something else in the envelope caught his eye: a business card for a whiskey bar called ‘Howlers’, which appeared to be a joint in Bed-Stuy, just fifteen minutes away on foot (according to his gps app). He flipped the card.

Ask for Mike.

–

The bar was dimly lit, but packed. Most of the crowd had a decade on Bucky, maybe more, and there were few places to perch next to the bar to draw the bartender’s eye–perch, but not sit; it must have been ladies’ night, because women in tight jeans and faux leather jackets shared stools, a cheek apiece on the wooden circles topping the seating (many of whom became acquainted because they pressed their hips together).

Bucky meandered through the crowd. The only person he could easily identify as working for Howlers was the bartender, so Bucky did his best to hug the far wall and sidle up next to the pick-up plane, where servers might have restocked trays of drinks, if there was a server to be had. The bartender gave him a nod, but took almost ten minutes to step away from a slew of customized martinis. By the time he approached Bucky, Bucky had gotten unwillingly dragged into a conversation with a pair of women celebrating a recent divorce, by virtue of being a man who they could ply with questions like why DO men leave their underwear on the floor? For Bucky’s part, all he could do was shrug. Bucky was fastidious at home–call it his Army conditioning, or the ever-present anxiety thrumming through his veins. He could not speak to such an epidemic.

“What can I getcha?” The bartender braced against the mahogany counter. “Please don’t say a martini.”

“No, uh–Mike?”

“You got ‘im.”

Bucky extended the envelope toward him. “I am supposed to give this to you.” The shell of his ears burned as he flushed.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “So. You’re the guy.” He didn’t take the envelope. In fact, he whistled at the divorcees beside Bucky, and pointed to a newly vacated hightop against the far wall. The women squealed and abandoned their stool. Mike gestured for Bucky to sit.

Bucky did, but every nerve in his body told him not to. If Mike hadn’t set a tumblr on a napkin in front of him, and poured two fingers of Bucky’s favorite scotch therein, he probably would have fled, envelope be damned. But he understood: find Mike, stay for a drink. Of course she couldn’t let him make the drop and run…

“Was she right?” Mike asked, pointing to the glass. “Fifteen year.”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah.”

Mike snorted. “She annoys the shitta me too, man, but it’s part of her charm.” He was flagged down by more patrons at the other side of the bar, so the bartender left Bucky to his drink.

A lock of hair escaped from his ponytail, which almost sent him over the edge. Bucky removed the tie and carded both hands through his too-long locks.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

Bucky would know her voice if he heard it in the depths of a coma. He had memorized the vocalizations in the back of her throat when she disagreed with something in class, her tendency to emphasize adverbs like they had a sharp edge… and the softness with which she said the word you. He closed his eyes, wishing to be swallowed up by the floor.

“Are you okay?” She muttered the question at his elbow, with fingers curling into his sleeve. Bucky didn’t look at her. He took a swig of his drink and let it burn its way down his throat, without the tiniest wince.

“Guess I sorta get that.” She rubbed his forearm for a moment.

“You’re here,” he growled, because that was certainly the reason why he could in no way be described as ‘okay.’

“Not sure how else to talk to you, given that I don’t have your number and you aren’t responding to email. And as much as I enjoy snail mail correspondence, I’m much more of an instant gratification kinda girl.” She gave the envelope beneath his arm a tug until he lifted it.

Bucky cleared his throat. “I made notes. Going forward, if you need feedback, get with Wilson–”

“No.” She thumbed open the flap.

He slapped a palm over her fingers as they went for the note card. “Don’t read that, alright.”

“Why?” she tried to pull her hand free, but his grip tightened.

“It’s irrelevant.”

“Did you tell me to fuck off?” she scoffed.

“Does that sound like me?”

“I don’t know you, Barnes. I thought I did. But I also didn’t peg you as a coward.”

Bucky’s head snapped up in insult, but she had been forced to stand so near to him that her face was inches from his, and the sadness in her eyes hit him.

“That was harsh,” she said apologetically, but he shook his head.

“Apt, though.”

“Give me ten minutes, at least?” She didn’t wait for him to give his consent, but it was clear he was meant to follow.

Bucky threw a twenty on the bartop, along with his dignity, and he followed her out the front door. She waited at the curb. By the time he joined her, she was digging in her bag, with a cigarette balanced on her lip.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

She smiled from one corner of her mouth, and lit her cigarette with a bright pink lighter. “You found the place okay.”

“The neon sign helped. How do you know Mike?”

“My cousin.”

“Ah, so. Not a guy friend.”

She laughed off the question. “There’s a park a few blocks west. You wanna walk?”

“Alright.”

They walked, dyssynchronous; she stepped in time with sleepy puffs from her cigarette, while Bucky caught his toes on raised concrete cracks from dragging his feet. She looped her hand through his elbow after a violent shiver, and they were in forced tandem. He told himself–I hate her lilac perfume–even as he held her wrist against his ribs. She grew tired of smoking but kept it upright like a pathetic candle. Waiting. He took it from her. He felt her gaze on his mouth as he took a hit, confirming what he had already suspected: this was his brand. He let the smoke escape slowly from between his teeth to punish her, but all she did was make a titter at the back of her throat.

“I only do it when I drink. But. That’s why.”

“I’m a bad influence.”

“Sure are.” She made a pinching motion with her fingers to ask for it back.

“What do you want, doll?” He flicked the stub into the gutter, where it hissed against the sludge from the first surprise snow of the Autumn.

“You’re not happy to see me?”

He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “I think you know the answer already. I came down here because I’m a sucker.”

“Knew it.” She squeezed his arm. “I missed you too.”

It had only been a month since he had last seen her, but god–Bucky missed her with his entire being. From the moment he put his resignation letter in the hands of the Dean, the feeling intensified. The idea of not seeing her tortured him. Talking to her, having her cling to him–it was worse and better, and his heart raced, and he had never wanted to run more. So he covered her hand with his… because he was human, and it was okay to want someone you shouldn’t if nobody saw.

She chose a picnic table by a street light in the small park, and sat with her feet up on the bench. She patted the wood next to her, and Bucky followed suit.

The silence stretched. He stared at the basketball court, with its orange hoop rings dangling like they’d been swung from one too many times. The woman beside him leaned back on her hands.

“You left your socks,” she said simply.

“Didn’t even put my shoes back on. Drove home barefoot,” he said. “I don’t know how I didn’t wreck.”

She sighed. “You could’ve stayed, Barnes. James–god, that’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever said your first name before.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. “‘S not what people usually call me.”

“Right,” she said. “Bucky, yeah? Wilson called you that during the faculty basketball game.”

“You went?” he scoffed. “I was lucky they didn’t make me play the whole time.”

“You’re really bad.” She laughed, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It wasn’t about skill.”

“Clearly.”

Bucky glanced at her. She smiled at him. Before he could think better of it, he brushed her cheek as if he might never get another opportunity. He blew out a slow breath as her skin filled his palm. She leaned into the touch, grasping his wrist.

“I’ve never, ever put myself in jeopardy like this,” he said. “Plenty of girls in my class have batted their eyelashes at me, but–” he shrugged. “Never felt anything except annoyance. And then… you. I’m screwed up about it, doll, you have every right to be pissed–”

“Slow down,” she said. She laced their fingers. “Let’s back up, I’m–I was angry, but I’m not anymore. I’m confused.”

Bucky gulped. “Um. I left, and I didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah.”

He clutched her hand against his knee. “I don’t do that kinda thing. Never. I mean, I’ve done it before but with women I dated, who were totally outside the campus community. They were short-lived–not even relationships. I…”

“You freaked.”

“Do you blame me?” Bucky groaned. “You’re in my class!”

“I didn’t plan it–”

“I’m not blaming you. For me to do that, with my own grad student, stone-cold sober. Thank god neither of us were drunk.”

She let out a long breath. “I didn’t think about it once.”

“No,” Bucky agreed.

“It doesn’t make it better, I realize. But for once in my life… I didn’t rationalize my way out of something that felt good. Kissing you didn’t bring me to my senses, either.”

“Hmm.”

“Was it… did you hate it–?”

“No. Far from it.”

“Then what?”

He couldn’t make the fear in his chest manifest into words, so he tapped the envelope which peeked out of her coat pocket and stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Despite the impulse to run, he remained at her feet. Waiting for her to see the declaration he wrote and rewrote a million times. She opened it.

She read it under her breath. Bucky held his. Every second which lapsed without her speaking was agonizing, but he dug his heels in. She deserved that much.

He didn’t hear her scoot off the table, so when her hands came up to cradle his face, he jumped.

“You are punishing me, too,” she whispered. “Maybe we should’ve thought about it. I own that. But why is the only option never speaking to or seeing me again? Huh?”

Bucky tugged out of her grasp. “Do you know what the university would do? You might be barred from defending your thesis, or have it blocked from publication, or get expelled–”

“Who am I going to tell?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Your friends! I don’t know!”

“Barnes–I don’t have a circle, here! My best friend lives in Alaska with her wife who works on a fishing boat, and my parents have never heard a detail about my personal life because the entire population of their neighborhood would know in an INSTANT. Unless YOU were planning on telling the Dean, I sure wasn’t!”

“What if photos of us pop up?”

“At my symposium? You’re my mentor–it makes sense for you to be there!” Her protests echoed off the cement court. “I didn’t invite anyone else!”

“You didn’t? There were a lot of people.”

“The whole city of Amherst shows up for this workshop, it’s a big deal! I didn’t know anybody but you and the other poetry fellows.”

“You kissed me.”

“In a cab!”

Bucky put his fists on his hips. “You snuck me into student housing.”

She poked him in the chest. “Seemed more appropriate than straddling you in the back of a taxi!” Bucky opened his mouth to say more but she clamped her hand over his mouth. “You didn’t resign a tenured teaching position to protect me, so why the hell did you do it?” When she pulled her hand away, she lingered toe-to-toe with him.

Bucky let his head fall back in frustration.

“I’m a shell, doll,” he started. “My ma passed away last year. Should’ve taken a sabbatical. But I pushed through to keep myself busy.” Bucky hazarded a glance at her. She said nothing, but motioned for him to continue.

“We were a real close family. My sisters are still devastated. If my father hadn’t gone a few summers ago, this would’ve sent him. I’m hollow, doll. Most days I can’t feel a thing.”

“Easier sometimes,” she murmured.

“No. God, it’s miserable. I get addicted to anything that makes me less numb.” Bucky fixed her with a glare. “Then… you asked me to be your advisor. All of a sudden, I looked forward to getting out of bed. Figured I was finally pushing through grief, or something. But I’d go home after meeting with you… empty. I didn’t put it together until you were asleep on my chest.”

She pressed her lips in a thin line. “You think you’re gonna forget her. If you’re happy again.”

Bucky looked away. “I already had, before she died. I never saw her. She lived five blocks from this park, doll, and I didn’t visit. I took it for granted that she would always be there when things slowed down for me.”

“So, when you took me on as an advisor…”

“Did it to fill up my free time. She asked me every time I saw her when I was gonna have the family I’ve always wanted, and I couldn’t stand to look her in the eye and say I wasn’t trying anymore. Doll–I hate teaching, but I stuck with it because she was so proud of me. She had my book on her bedside table.”

“So do I.” The woman clasped his elbow with a sad smile. “You still would’ve made her proud if you told her you wanted something else. Prouder, still, if you let someone in. Whether or not that someone is Me.”

Bucky’s arms floated upwards, and tentatively hovered at her waist. “With what? What do I have to offer right now?”

“I dunno–”

“Oh, great,” he scoffed.

“No! You’re so smart, but you’re an idiot.” She stood on her tip-toes to level her eyes with his. “You made me feel incredible. Did I return the favor?��

Bucky flushed. “...more than.”

“That’s enough. Doesn’t have to be complicated. You’re a human being–we go through shit times, and it doesn’t make us unworthy of something good.”

“Doll, I did resign because of you, but I didn’t do it to lash out at you. Or because I slept with you–even though it was the ethical thing to do.” Bucky sat with a heavy sigh. “I did it… because you’ve worked so hard. Your thesis work is stunning–those poems are no exception. I have never been as passionate about anything the way you are about words. You made me think there could be something like that, for me.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

Bucky snorted. “Enlisted for Dad. Got out, went to grad school for Ma. Here I am.”

“I forgot you were in the Army.”

“Not something I advertise, doll.”

“No, but I’ve looked at the company photo in your office a million times,” she said. “How’d you get out?”

“Honorable discharge.”

“For?”

“Throwing myself on a grenade.”

“A habit of yours.” She let her head fall against his shoulder. Bucky remained stiff and upright, but he let a sense of warmth at the affectionate position fill him. He almost missed her next words because he was so focused on the sensation of her against his side.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said.

“Why?” Bucky couldn’t prevent the question from slipping out. She turned her face so they were nose-to-nose.

“Because I love poetry, but it means nothing if the subject isn’t part of my life. Every poem I write, every goddamn word. They’re about you.”

The sentiment jump-started his heart. It had pumped once a day since his mother died–enough to keep his blood flowing. But with that admission, she renewed him. He scanned over her expression for any sign of hesitation.

“May I?” His breath tickled her lips.

She smoothed her hands over the front of his coat. “As much as I want you to, it’s late. I can’t be sure if this is exhaustion, or whiskey, or Bucky. I–” She stopped to touch his jaw. “I can’t kiss you and wake up to nothing, tomorrow. But in the light of day, if you still want to…” Her thumb worried his shallow dimple as she trailed off. Her eyes flicked back and forth, searching to make sure they were on the same page.

Bucky swallowed hard. “I understand.”

“You can give me your number.” She fished her cell phone out of her back pocket and unlocked it so he could type his number in. He did so, and when she presented her cheek… Bucky leaned down and brushed his mouth against her skin. She giggled when he dithered a hare’s breath from her lips.

“I’ll text you, so you have mine,” she said softly.

“I, um.” He swiped his thumb over his bottom lip. “I have to clean out my office this weekend.”

“...do you want help?”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“I can move my schedule around. Make some time for you.” She nudged his arm, and then tucked the nearly-forgotten envelope into her pocket. “Call me?” She turned, swinging her bag over one shoulder.

“Hey, doll–”

She stopped, peering back at him.

“I didn’t say it at your symposium, but I’m proud of you.”

She straightened, and her mouth twisted like she was trying not to cry. “Thanks, Professor.”

Bucky watched her walk away in the direction of the nearest train station until she disappeared into the shadows. His phone vibrated in his pocket. A text from an unknown number.

I’m proud of you too.

Bucky stared at those five liberating words. He didn’t reply, but about two minutes later, another text arrived from the same number.

Howlers is hiring. Barback. 12/hr plus tips. Ask Mike.

–

She waited in the shadow of a tree at the end of a block, and watched his mouth turn up in a smile as he read her second message. Walking away after he asked to kiss her had been nearly impossible; the hairs on her body stood up, craving the deepest level of intimacy they had shared before, but if he wanted to make things right, he needed to do it for himself.

Still, it was something to hang her hope on. More than a cryptic note, or no words at all.

Her phone chimed.

BUCKY: thank you doll BUCKY: i really did miss you

–

you will do better the less you have of me

but I will waste and waste like something unheavenly.

what feeds you might bleed me but

mete out my punishment gently.

Part 2

– – – – –

thanks for reading and sharing! :)

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theladybarnes · 1 year

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READY TO COMPLY - CHAPTER TWELVE: END OF BEGINNING

“Just one more tear to cry, one teardrop from my eye, You better save it for The middle of the night when things aren't black and white”

▸ summary: trust is lost amongst friends, but there may be something in the horizon ▸ characters: tony stark ft. natasha romanoff & peter parker ▸ word count: 4.1k ▸ warnings: semi-angst ▸ series masterlist

When a heart gets broken, it sometimes can feel as if the person has died. In this case, you think it would be better if you did. But that’s not how life works.

“We’re heading up now, Squirt. Better buckle up.”

You snapped your head up from your lap to find Happy looking down at you. A curious look on his face before he glanced at your lap. The book you had found in the airport gift store an hour ago laid open on the first page. Several attempts were made to try and read the story. But to your dismay, you weren’t able to keep focus. Often looking out in the distance as you continued to recall the events of the other night.

“You’ll find me?” … “No, Bucky. Not this time.”

The look on Bucky’s face still haunted you. What had been words of a bond that was almost unbreakable, was torn apart in mere minutes of a fight. It’s been a day since you’ve left the bunker, and you feared a part of you has been there since.

Nodding your head, you tuck the book into your bag and place it on the floor beside your feet before you turn to stare out the window. Above the noise of the jet outside, you were still able to detect the worried mumbling from Happy and Tony. Since the two of you returned back to Berlin, you had been unusually quiet.

Tony for once, did not try to make you talk things over. Even when he was supposed to report back to the accords. When asked whether or not you were going to sign on the accords, he stated that you were neither an avenger nor involved in this incident. By some chance, all the cameras had lost footage in the airport. So as far as the JTC or The UN were aware, you had been taken by the winter soldier to Siberia.

“Is it alright if I sit here, Ms. Stark?”

Spider-Man or Peter, who had introduced himself once you made it to the airport, had boarded the plane with you guys. Now sheepishly pointing over to the seat beside you with a friendly smile while he waited for you to reply. But all you did was simply nod your head before turning to gaze back out the window.

The shuffling sound of him adjusting into his seat and buckling up is the only thing between you until the plane finally begins to ascend into the air. It’s a long flight home and you wish that you had taken Tony up on his offer of some sleeping pills. But with your mind already daydreaming, you’re a little too scared to imagine what sleep would bring.

“Sorry about the fight at the airport.” Peter said suddenly. “Those repulsors that you had were pretty cool. Mr. Stark mentioned they were a prototype for a more mobile type defense but the two of you adjusted them to make them fit for fighting.”

You glanced back beside you, noting how nervous Peter seemed to look. He was much younger than you realized. Making you slightly upset about having him been part of the fight at all. But considering he was crawling up the walls, stopping punches from super soldiers, and taking on Wanda, he had to be more than just a regular kid.

“By the way, it is an honor to have fought against you.” His enthusiasm is creeping in on you, making you fully turn to face him as he rambled on about the fight. “It’s not often someone gets pretty close to sneaking up on me. There was this time I was stopping a robbery and there were a total of three goons, all amateur, but still pretty strong..”

Peter continued on, going onto different tangents in his story that helped provide you with a very necessary distraction. It’s not until he’s noticed you’re completely grinning from hearing him talk about how much his new suit kept riding up his butt that he stopped.

“I just realized I’ve been the only one that’s been talking for ten minutes. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head at him, leaning back in your seat. “It’s okay.” you said softly. “I liked your stories.”

His face beamed with pride at your response. It’s been hours since you’ve last said more than one worded replies and he’s noticed it. His reaction has you feeling a bit guilty and you casually glance over to see that Tony has stopped talking to Happy to look back at you. Raising a brow in a quiet way of asking if you were okay.

Smiling at him, you nod your head before giving Peter back your attention.

“So I noticed that you’re calling Tony ‘Mr.Stark’. I’m gonna go ahead and assume then that you’re not some secret nephew that I owe some birthday presents to?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he let out a hearty laugh. “I wish! Mr. Stark managed to pluck me from Queens. He’s apparently been keeping tabs on Spider-Man. Offered me a chance to come help him.”

“It’s a pretty big step from stopping robberies to fighting super soldiers.” You find that you can’t bear to say their names. “The fight was kind of intense..”

“Oh don’t worry, Ms.Stark! I’m totally okay! I heal up real fast these days.”

“You’re definitely different. I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone be able to stop a punch from Buc–” your voice cut off on its own. Making you turn embarrassed as you looked down at your lap to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

Peter was kind enough not to bring that to attention as he gave a light pat on your arm. “You wanna hear what it was like sharing a hotel with Happy?” The two of you both look over to find Happy with his familiar look of annoyance as he tapped angrily at his iPad. Sensing that he’s being watched, he glanced up with wide eyes, looking between you and Peter before he began to shake his head without even knowing the conversation.

The reaction makes the two of you burst into a fit of giggles and while the whole thing isn’t entirely that funny, the whole thing has you laughing so much you feel the pinch of tears in your eyes. “Please tell me.” you urged, wiping the corners of your eyes a bit.

Peter instantly dived into a story of what it was like going from Queens to the airport with Happy. Pulling you back into another enthralling story.

“Tony, you gotta let me go over there. The kid’s getting it all wrong.”

“You leave them alone, Happy. It’s gonna be a while before we see that smile again.”

“Fine. But he’s getting a cab home.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Hap– Oh will you relax? Your forehead is showing that vein again.”

Hours later and the four of you are finally back home in America. The three of you continued to pester and annoy poor Happy. He practically sped over to the apartment building in Queens. Especially once Tony joined in on the teasing. But soon enough you were saying goodbye to Peter, telling him you’d see him soon to hear more stories from his side of the city.

Tony had Happy plan to take you back to the hotel, where he was planning on staying while they moved Rhodey to the compound. But you insisted they take you home.

It’s been quite a few months since you’ve stepped foot in your townhouse in New York. You were sure that it’d be a dusted mess, but you couldn’t help but feel the need to be in a place that was your own.

“I can stay with you,” Tony offered, keeping you from closing the car door. Happy had offered to take your bags up to the doorstep. Giving you and your brother a moment alone for the first time in hours. “I’ll even order some take out, we can talk shit about..everyone.”

There was a look that flickered in his eyes, making them glisten a bit before he shook it off, giving you a brilliant smile. He’s trying to cover up his own feelings but you don’t want him to hide how he feels just to help make you feel better.

“We can do that later on. I think I just want to be alone for a bit. At least to get back to our time zone.” You shrugged. Hoping to sound more okay than how you really felt. “We’ll go to that one place you wanted to try.”

“You sure, sprout? I mean, I can always just—“

You cut Tony off with a simple hand to his shoulder. Squeezing gently to shut him up. “We’ll plan it out tomorrow. Just tonight…leave me be.”

He nodded slowly, looking a little disappointed before he leaned back into the seat. He’s about to close the door but you’re quick to grab before he can. A simple raise of the brow is all he used as a question.

“Do me a favor, Tony.”

“Anything, kid.”

“Call her?”

There’s no need to say who it is. The whole fighting and sadness has you thinking about everything. Including your own brother’s relationships.

“Sprout..” Tony choked out, sounding unsure about the request. But all you could think to say is to throw back his own words at him before you closed the door.

“One of us Starks has to be able to hold onto a relationship right?”

And with that, you turned around and left your stunned brother to his own decisions. Hopeful that he’d do that right thing and get his girl back. Not only for his sake but yours.

It’s hours later in your little townhouse that you finally have everything unpacked and cleaned up. The dusting and cleaning being completely therapeutic to you while you found a way to adjust back into your old home.

Home.

The concept of this place being your home again sounded foreign. The more you look around the more your chest begins to ache. While this was back for you, this wasn’t your home. This wasn’t the place you’ve been sleeping for months. This didn’t have the old plumbing that sometimes would take forever to heat up, or had outdated appliances, or have the queen size bed that you’d share with—

“No.” You said softly to yourself. The swell of tears began to fill in your eyes and you felt as if you’d been punched in the stomach. Causing you to reach out and grip against the counter top. Fingers feeling slightly numb as you release some anger onto the hold.

For a second there’s a ringing in your ear as you’re thrown into emotions again. But even through the ringing, you can feel the chill running up your back. Your instincts kicking in quickly. Without a second thought, you jumped over the counter and reached for a knife in the holder by the sink before spinning around and facing the new presence of the room.

“He’s taught you well, Cолнышко (little sun).”

Natasha didn’t look the least phased as you held the tip of the knife towards her face. If you didn’t know any better, you would say she had a glint of approval. But her signature smirk was gone, and the green in her eyes were dulled. She was tired.

“We just gonna stand like this all night or do you mind if I take a seat?”

Pulling your arm back, you place the knife down on the counter, keeping contact with Nat as you walk over towards the chair by the window. The cool breeze that flowed in was a sign of how she got in so quietly.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” she started softly, taking a seat over at the couch opposite of you. “Once that jet left I couldn’t help but worry about what you were going to face. And then things with Rhodey happened and next thing I know Tony’s upset—“

“How can you just do that?”

You cut her off quickly. Feeling a burning anger flicker inside your chest. Natasha raised a brow, cocking her head to the side as she tried to figure you out. Like she always did.

“How can I do what?”

“Act like everything is okay.” The air in your lungs felt heavier, making your breathing slow and painful. “Like my life wasn’t just turned upside down.”

“Scout-”

“No!” Jumping up from your seat, you point over at Natasha. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t know. Tell me that they were the only ones who betrayed me. Tell me my own best friend who told the whole world’s secrets wouldn’t have kept THIS from me,” The sudden panic in your voice has the other girl’s eyes wide as she leaned back to look at you. Green eyes flickering all over your face as she tried to think of an answer.

“I can’t.” she said softly. “I had pieced it together pretty fast.”

You turned away, feeling the pain in your chest turn worse. It causes you to have to lean against the chair. Holding onto the edge to keep you balanced. Was this how you were always going to feel now?

“I know nothing I say can fix it. But please let me just get my piece in..”

“Why should I? Why should I listen to anything else when all you and Steve and Bu-” You bring a hand up to your lips before shaking your head. “All you guys know is how to lie to me and hurt me. So tell me, Nat. What grand excuse do you have to tell me? Hmm?” Moving to take a step closer, you watch her get up and size up to you.

“Because unless you’re a coward like Steve, which we both know you aren’t, then I’m not sure what real excuse you could have. As far as I see it, you allowed me to look for him, try and bring him back home. Was that when you were going to tell me? What about Tony? Do you guys really hate him so much that you worked with him for years and couldn’t face up to tell him too?”

“No one hates Tony. But don’t act like you guys are the easiest people to tell stuff to.”

Her words caused you to flinch, making you take a step away from her. “So now we’re not easy to talk to all of a sudden, okay.” you laughed, looking down at your hands. They shake before you and you quickly ball them up before crossing your arms. “Wasn’t quite aware of that.”

“That’s not what I meant–”

“I don’t care what you meant. Get out of my house.” Turning around, you move to head towards your door. “I don’t want to see any of you ever again.”

“Please!” Natasha urged, reaching out to grab your arm. “I can’t just leave things between us like this.” It’s not till you’re fully facing her that you notice there’s tears brimming her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything. I should have done better. I should have at least told you because you deserved to know.”

Her hold on you let up when she noticed you weren’t leaving again. Allowing her to quickly wipe some fallen tears off her face. “I can’t speak for the other two. And I won’t. Because keeping this secret has been tearing me up inside and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Reaching out, she brushed a hand out to cup at your cheek, gingerly rubbing the pad of her thumb against the apple where your own tears had begun to roll over. You wanna push her away, tell her to leave and watch her get out of your life like the other two. But you can’t. You don’t think your heart can take another heartbreak.

Throwing your arms around her, you bury your face into her neck, letting the pain pour out as you hold onto your friend. She’s quick to hold onto you, allowing your body to sag against hers as she helped move you towards the couch.

It’s not until a couple of minutes of you crying out to her that you’re able to calm down. Wiping your nose along the sleeve of your arm before you pull back to look at her. She’s just as red in the face as you but still slightly more composed. “I feel like my world isn’t ever going to be the same again.”

“I know,” she agreed, pushing a piece of hair out from your eyes. “It might not ever be.” Looking back to your eyes, she gives you a sad smile before leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But I just want you to know that I would never intentionally hurt or betray you like this..I just..I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You don’t have a response for her. Just like with the other two, you can’t think of anything to make them or yourself feel better. All you know is that you can’t be around any of them. But Natasha doesn’t seem to need to hear that from you, instead, she got up from the seat, moving to reach for a bag that she had stowed away by the window.

“Ross is gonna try and hunt me down.”

“Well he’s off to a good start if you manage to make your way back to New York.” you scoffed, curious to know what she was digging around for.

“Poor guy has his hands full.” She found what she was looking for before she returned back to join you on the couch. “So much so that he and his team didn’t notice when I managed to take this from their evidence locker.” She slips over a book into your hands and it's then that you realize what it is.

The familiar cover was the exact one you had spent a good couple of days looking at. “Oh,” you whispered softly, letting your fingers brush over the spine of the journal. It had been so long since you’ve seen this and while you can’t even mention his name, the sight of Bucky’s journal brought a sudden comfort over you.

“I’ve never been one to snoop inside someone’s journal.” She mused, tapping the cover lightly. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t have a problem if someone like you read it.” Her watch beeps and she looked down at it ruefully for a moment.

“Times up?” you asked softly, feeling suddenly unready.

“Yeah, my ride out of the states is gonna leave soon.”

The two of you got up from the couch and you watched as she strapped the bag around her shoulders. Taking a second to adjust her jacket a bit before she finished to look back at you. The two of you stare at each other before you’re suddenly wrapping an arm around her again. Hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry,” you start, unsure why. “If..if there’s a way to reach me..and you need me–”

“I’ll try not to but thanks. For now, maybe just try being here? Seems like you could use a break from hero work..” She pulled back from the hug first, using her fingers to tip your chin up and look over at her. “I’ll see you later,Cолнышко (little sun).”

Nodding your head, you step back, allowing her to make her way over to the window. Her bright hair blowing in the night wind is the last you see before she disappeared into the night and out of your life.

You don’t read the journal. At least you try not to. After several attempts, you can’t find it in yourself to peek into what it could have inside. What if it reveals more lies to you, what if there’s secrets Bucky had been holding that were far worse.

It’s late one night, you’re cuddled under your blanket, ready for another sleepless night when you look at your nightstand. The book has been sitting there since Natasha left and you feel like the cover is taunting you.

Turning your back to it, you try and shut your eyes, reminding yourself that while you’re upset with Bucky, that reading his private journal was super gross and not very ethical. But there were a lot of unethical things that seemed to happen to you, it’s almost unfair that you’re not allowed to break a rule now and then.

Groaning in frustration, you kicked off your sheets, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. The room is suddenly wrapped in a warm glow and you’re picking up the journal. Flipping the cover, you let out a sight. There’s no turning back now.

The first couple of pages remind you of the notes that he used to carry around. Lists of words that wouldn’t mean much to normal people, but to Bucky, they were reminders of people and places. Some of the lists were harder to read, especially when you realized they might have been past missions as the soldier. But the more you dived into it, the more you realized he had begun to remember names.

There were so many names..

Luckily there were two sets of names you didn’t want to come across and that gave you a slight relief. But eventually the journal started to turn into entries. Small enough to be a paragraph, but enough so that it made your heart ache. They were Bucky’s words and for some reason that meant everything to you right now.

Some entries had you crying with the dark dreams as painful reminders to him. Some had you smiling, despite the pain you felt towards him, the words of him recalling moments with you felt like a warmth you needed.

It wasn’t till you got to a certain date that you realized what this entry was for. It was the day he tried to leave after you stopped him from leaving the apartment as the soldier. He had been planning to leave Bucharest and you behind, but you stopped his plans in time. What you never saw was the words he had been writing that day.

[..The worst of my nightmares has happened. Instead of just reliving what has happened inside my nightmares, The Soldat finally managed to seep his way through my subconscious and out into the real world. Out to where she is.]

The memory of the night feels fresh in your mind. All of it was still scary and you remember the look of shock and sadness when Bucky realized that it wasn’t just a dream anymore.

[..I can’t keep her with me anymore. Not when it’s no longer safe. She’s the only good left I have and if the Soldat hurt her..I don’t think I could live with myself…]

You don’t want to unravel what he means with that. But knowing Bucky, there was no good answer to it either way.

[..I don’t want to leave her. God, I don’t ever want to leave her. Even in the early mornings, when I go to the docks, or go out for food, or anything. Leaving her for just a second brings an ache to my chest. But not bigger than the one I feel when I think about what could happen to her if I don’t wake up the same. Not again.]

The page is cut off and you’re thinking it’s probably around the time that you had caught him trying to leave. The fight was painful, but it had brought out the trust you two still had at that moment. Unfortunately, you weren’t sure you’d ever get that back. You’re about to close the book, but there’s a bookmark down the line that you turn to next.

[..She’s smarter than she realizes. Caught me at just the right time. Either that or she’s born with ridiculous luck.]

You think hard about it and realize this is one of his last entries.

[..Seventy years of being in pain and loss, and I managed to get one good thing in my life…I can’t believe some guy like me could be with a dame like this. Even now, she’s curled to my side, sleeping beautifully after letting me touch her and make her feel the way she’s supposed to. She deserves the world but she chooses me. She wants to look for me, even if I get lost again. How could I return that to her? How could I give her more when she asks for nothing in return?..I just hope that whatever happens between us, she’ll get to know just truly just how much I love her.]

The journal fell out of your hands, falling off the side of the bed. His words keep repeating in your line and instead feeling the familiar break of the heart, something else, something stronger builds up in you. Giving your chest a break from the ache it’s been feeling this whole time.

I love her.

“...I love him.”

a/n: woo! another movie done! i love the idea of bucky having a journal. wish that was dived into more in the show IW is soon to come. Just gonna take a week break and start it early FEB!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #rtc

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 1 year

Text

The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 58)

Summary: Meeting up with an ally, Steve works to break you out of prison, he just hopes its in time

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst! bit of fluff! Descriptions of Injury! Mention of Suicidal like thoughts!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 58: Prison Break

Steve kept his head down glancing around as he picked up some groceries. As he walked to the cashier he pulled down the cap he wore.

The lady smiled at him warmly and he gave a small smile back as she rung up the shopping.

“Danke schön” Steve thanked as she passed him his bag.

Stepping out of the small shop he started the long walk back to the cabin he was staying in.

When he left Wakanda just under 2 weeks ago T’Challa had given him some money and Steve had settled in the village of Stoos. The place you said you’d hide away from world in.

His cabin was on the edge of the village. Close enough that he couldn’t be considered an outsider and raise suspicion but far enough away for privacy.

As he approached he glanced up to spot someone standing outside his cabin. He slowed down slightly as he tried to work out who it was. He watched as the person turned around lowering their hood when they saw him. Short platinum blonde hair is revealed. Steve furrowed his brows as he began to recognise who it was.

“Hey” Nat greets as Steve walked over to her.

“Been waiting long?” He asked as he began unlocking the door.

“Not too long” Nat shrugs as he opened the door.

“Well let’s get in from the cold” Steve said gesturing for her to step inside.

He followed her in, shutting the door behind him before turning back to Nat and hugging her.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Been better, you?” Nat sighs nodding her head.

“Been better, Ross been after you?” Steve asks as they walk into the kitchen.

“Pretty nonstop, but he never got really close,” Nat says leaning against the counter.

“Well, thanks for keeping him off my back,” Steve says smirking slightly as he put the groceries away.

“How did you know I was here?” He asks turning to face her.

“I remembered Y/N telling me about this place, thought you’d come him, sentimental bastard,” Nat says muttering the last bit under her breath.

“Heard that,” Steve says chuckling slightly.

“So I’m guessing things didn’t go exactly to plan in Siberia?” Nat asks him making him sigh and drop his head.

“No, the only reason the doctor wanted us there was to show Tony the footage of Bucky killing Howard and Maria” Steve sighs.

“And Tony didn’t take that news well” Nat sighed.

“Very, very badly, I hated it, I just wish I’d told him already” Steve admits shaking his head.

“Hey don’t beat yourself up over it, both me, you and Y/N were there when Zola told us it wasn’t an accident, and none of us told him and even if we did he probably would have hunted him down still,” Nat tells him.

“He’d have time to cool off though” Steve points out.

“True but we’ll never know, it’s in the past, just gotta move on and try and fix this mess,” Nat says.

“Speaking of which how are we breaking everyone out of prison?” Nat asks crossing her arms.

“I don’t know, I’ve been trying to plan something but I can’t work it out, not something that won’t just land me in there too” Steve sighs in annoyance.

It had kept him up at night trying to work out a way, but he found nothing. There was a reason it was the most secure prison on the planet.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here because I have this” Nat says holding up a key card.

“How did you get that?” Steve asks shocked.

“Got a bit too close for comfort with Ross in Hungary, but I was able to swipe it” Nat shrugs as she passes it to Steve.

He flips it around in his hands looking down at it.

“So we can get them out, now we just need to get in, find them,” Steve says as he passes back the key card.

“I have an old quinnjet we can use to escape in, had any thoughts about getting in?” Nat asks pocketing the card.

“A couple, I thought about handing myself get in that way but-“ Steve explains.

“But they wouldn’t let you go in unrestrained” Nat finishes with a sigh.

“They’re not gonna come to the surface for an unexpected arrival either” Steve points out.

“So we need to sneak in when they’re expecting something,” nat says thinking out loud.

“Like when they get supplies, like food” Steve agrees.

“They’re not gonna be common,” Nat says.

“Let’s hope there’s one soon then” Steve sighs crossing his arms over his chest.

“Let’s get to work,” Nat says.

Over the next week, Steve and Nat worked around the clock formulating their plan. With the help of Nat’s contact, Rick Mason, they had the tech they needed to break in. They had schematics of the prison, as well as some gas to knock the guards out.

They also had identified the next food shipment into the raft. Which luckily was within the week. Before they went out though Steve had one last thing to do. Something he’d been putting off since leaving Siberia.

“What are you doing?” Nat asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“Writing a letter” Steve states.

“I can see that gramps but to who?” Nat asks sitting down at the table.

“Tony” Steve sighs as he signs the letter and slips it into the envelope.

“Is that a good idea?” Nat asks.

“I don’t know but what’s the worst that can happen? We have to go on the run?” Steve states raising a brow.

“Yeah that would be terrible” Nat deadpans with a small smirk.

“Exactly, now I’m gonna go post this, want anything from the shops?” Steve asks holding up the box that contained the letter and a burner phone.

“Surprise me” Nat smirks making him chuckle.

Steve was surprised at how easy it was to break into the raft. All it took was some spare uniforms from the supplier. Once inside Steve used the gas to knock out the guards before making his way down the halls to where his friends were being held.

The lights were off when he entered the room but he instantly spotted Sam in his cell pacing back and forth. As he turned back towards him Steve took a step out of the shadows. A smile grew on Sam’s face when he saw Steve.

“You took your time” Sam smirks as Steve unlocked the cells.

“I came as soon as I could I promise,” Steve says glancing around.

He saw Clint moving to Wanda helping her up, undoing her straight jacket. Steve then notices the collar around her neck and moves over to rip it off.

“You’re all safe now,” he says putting a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asks when he notices you weren’t with them.

“They took her fairly early on, they’ve been interrogating her constantly,” Clint tells him.

“She looked in a bad way when they last dragged her past” Sam sighs.

Steve’s jaw clenched in anger hearing all of this “where is she?” He asks.

“The floor below I think, we’re not sure,” Scott tells him.

“I’ll get her, your gear is on the floor above, Nat will be waiting with a quinnjet to escape in,” Steve tells them.

“Go get her,” Sam says patting Steve on the shoulder.

Steve nods before heading back out and in the direction you were in. Since he wasn’t expecting for you to be separated from the others he didn’t have any more gas to knock the guards out. Leaving him with brute force alone.

As he made his way down the corridors he threw guards into each other, knocking their heads together. Throwing them into the walls and knocking them out instantly. He worked methodically through the guards, knowing he must be getting close by the number of guards.

When he rounded the corner he spotted you in your cell. His heart stopped when he saw your lifeless form on the floor. He was only able to take a breath when he saw you take a shallow one.

As he got closer he saw how beaten you were. Your face is covered in bruises and cuts. One eye swollen shut, your lip split. He unlocked your cell bending down beside you.

“Y/N, doll it’s me, it’s okay I’m here to get you out,” he tells you gently cupping your cheek.

The only response he got was a weak groan. He removed the collar from around your neck knowing it would help you regain some energy, but when he did his blood ran cold when he spotted the burns on your neck. It was a shock collar.

“Nat I have Y/N, the rest are making their way to you now,” Steve says into the comms as he scooped you into his arms.

“On it” Nat responds as Steve carried you out of your cell.

Steve ran through the corridor kicking down anyone who got in his way. Finally, he got to the landing pad, the jet already waiting.

“Go!” Steve shouts once he was aboard, placing you down on the medical cot.

“Shit is she okay,” Clint asks moving to stand beside Steve.

“I dunno, I don’t even know what they’ve done to her,” Steve says as he quickly grabs the first aid kit.

He tried to set up and drip for you, but his hands were shaking too much. Leading Sam to step in and take over.

“Sit down Steve let us help,” Sam says taking the kit from Steve.

Steve just nods moving to sit beside you gently taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Waiting as patiently as he could while Sam checked over your injuries.

“She’s gonna need to go to a hospital” Sam sighs glancing over at Steve.

“We can’t exactly rock up at a hospital considering we just broke out of prison” Clint points out.

“Yes we can,” Steve says glancing up at everyone.

“Steve I don’t-“ Sam starts.

“We have an ally, trust me,” Steve says glancing over at Nat who nods her head.

“Just give me the coordinates and we’ll head straight there” Nat agrees.

Steve nodded getting up and moving to the front of the jet. He inputted the coordinates that T’Challa had given him from before. Once the course was set, he wordlessly returned to your side.

He wanted nothing more than to hold you close but he didn’t know the extent of your injuries. The last thing he wanted was to harm you anymore. So he sat as close as he could hold onto your hand. His eyes fell to your face, and he almost couldn’t bring himself to look. This was the worst he’d ever seen you and it was all his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry” he whispered, voice breaking slightly as kissed your knuckles.

“Steve-“ you croaked out weakly.

Your eyes open slightly as if you were fighting for to keep them open. You search around for him, eventually settling on his blurry figure.

“I’m here, it’s okay you’re safe now,” he tells you kissing your forehead.

Even in your weakened state, you could feel his tears falling onto your skin. Your own eyes fill with tears when you realise it was actually him, not another hallucination.

“Steve I-“ you cry out but Steve silences you.

“Shush, shush it’s okay, save your energy we’re gonna get you some proper help, everything is gonna be okay I swear” he promises you, squeezing your hand gently.

You could only nod your head holding onto his hand tightly, scared to let go. You could feel yourself falling back under but you desperately fought it trying to keep your eyes on his.

“Get some rest doll, I promise I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving your side ever again,” he tells you.

You nod your head allowing yourself to finally rest for the first time in weeks.

When they landed in Wakanda the Dora Milaje instantly met them as the jet landed. Steve carefully picked you up and carried you off the jet walking straight towards the guards.

“Okoye, Y/N needs a doctor and quickly,” Steve tells her.

“Of course captain, what about your friends?” She asks nodding to the rest.

“We’re fine just need to rest,” Sam tells her.

She nods her head and shouts orders to the rest of the Dora Milaje “come with me captain” she tells him.

Okoye leads Steve inside towards the medical labs. As they walked down the corridor they passed T’Challa and Shuri.

“Captain I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” T’Challa says following Steve into the medical lab.

“Yeah sorry for not calling ahead but it was urgent,” Steve says as he sets you down.

“Of course, you’ve brought her to the best place,” Shuri says as she scans your body.

“There’s internal damage that’s going to need surgery to correct it” Shuri reports as she looks over the scans.

Steve nods nervously leaning down to kiss your forehead nervously. More doctors enter the room and begin to prep you for surgery. Steve kept hold of your hand as long as he could until your bed was wheeled out of the room, your hand pulled from his.

“Don’t worry Captain your wife is in the best hands,” T’Challa says putting a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s a fighter, I just wish I had gotten there sooner” Steve sighs shaking his head.

“We can’t change the past, you got her and the rest of your friends out, that’s the important thing,” T’Challa tells him.

“Yeah, thank you for all your help, I really appreciate it” Steve thanked him.

“Happy to help, get some rest Captain” T’Challa smiles before heading out of the room.

Steve sighs moving to sit down in the chair in the corner of the room. Taking a deep breath he leant back, his head resting on the wall. Settling in for the long wait until he could see you again.

You slowly woke to the dull ache over your entire body. It wasn’t as bad as it had been the past weeks. So much so you could almost fall back asleep. Continue the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

As you came around some more you could feel something warm against your hand. It held your hand tightly, before lifting it and kissing it.

The sensation made you wake with a start panicking that the guard was in your cell as you slept. Your panic only grew as your eyes darted around the unfamiliar room.

“Hey, hey it's okay” you heard someone say, their hands moving to your shoulders.

“No, get away” you mutter in a blind panic.

“Doll it’s okay it’s me, you’re safe now” you hear.

Your eyes follow the sound of the voice eventually falling and focusing on its owner. Seeing Steve looking down at you worry filling his eyes.

“Steve” you whisper not really believing he was here.

“Yeah it’s me, it’s okay, you’re safe now” Steve reassures you cupping your cheeks.

Your hands move to his wrist gripping them tightly scared he was gonna disappear.

“You’re here, you’re actually here” you stutter, “I-I thought it was a dream”

“I’m sorry, I should have gotten you out sooner,” Steve says pressing his forehead against yours tears collecting in his eyes.

You just shook your head as you cried in relief that he was here and the hell of the raft was gone.

“It’s okay,” you tell him looking up at him.

“No, they hurt you because of me if I ever see the person who did this I’ll kill them” Steve states his jaw clenching.

“No you won’t,” you say making him let out a small huff of laughter.

“No but I’ll want to” he reasoned with a small smile.

“And they didn’t hurt me because of you, they hurt me because I didn’t tell them anything, it's on me and if I had to…” you say before taking a deep and shaky breath “I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat”

“You won’t, I can promise you that, I’m not letting you leave my side again,” Steve says kissing your forehead.

“I love you” you smiled.

“I love you too” Steve smiles kissing you gently.

You take a deep breath looking around the room taking it in for the first time. When you looked out the window behind steve all you could see were lush forests.

“Where are we?” You ask looking back over at Steve.

“Wakanda, T’Challa has offered us shelter and help” Steve explains making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“But last I knew he wanted to kill Bucky,” you say shaking your head slightly.

“He followed us to Siberia and heard Zemo admit to the bombing, he wanted to help to make up it,” Steve tells you.

“What happened in Siberia, I know something must have gone wrong since we’re on the run but I don’t know what,” you ask him “is Bucky okay?”

“Bucky’s fine, T’Challa and his sister Shuri are helping get rid of what Hydra put in him, he’s gone back under in the meantime” Steve sighs looking down slightly.

“Oh, Stevie,” you say squeezing his hand “you’ve saved him, don’t forget that, he’s safe now because of you” you remind him.

“I know, it’s just-“ Steve sighed “Siberia was bad”

“I know Tony was there, he came to raft asking to know where you were so he could help,” you say, Steve, nodding his head.

“He did, but the doctor wasn’t there to wake the soldiers, he’d killed all of them before we even got there,” Steve told you making you look at him confused.

“He’d done all of the things he did, killed those people just to show Tony the footage of Bucky killing his parents” Steve sighed dropping his head.

“Shit” you mutter dropping your head back onto your pillow and looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have told him where you were, if I hadn’t he wouldn’t have been there,” you say shaking your head and tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey no, don’t do that, it’s my fault I should have told him about Bucky straight away, as soon as Zola told us,” Steve says squeezing your hand and getting you to look at him.

“But-“ you say going to argue but Steve interrupts.

“But nothing, remember after Largos you told me we can’t change the past, we can only go forward,” Steve tells you with a small reassuring smile.

You nod your head giving him a small smile “what happens now?” You ask him.

Steve sighs gently shrugging his shoulders “I don’t know, all I know is that I won’t be letting you out of my sight again, no more stunts like what you did at the airport” steve says with a playful glare.

“I had to get the two of you out of there” you smirk making him chuckle.

“I know but next time you’re coming with me” Steve smiles.

Your conversation was interrupted by the door to your room opening and the doctor stepping inside.

“Glad to see you awake,” the doctor says as he walked.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he looks over your charts.

“Sore, but I’m good,” you say smiling over at Steve squeezing his hand.

“I’m glad to hear it, were you seen to by a doctor during your time there?” The doctor asks but you shook your head.

“Wow, okay,” he remarks in surprise.

“What is wrong with me?” You ask him.

“Well you had a few broken ribs, some were already heeling but some left fragments behind which we needed to extract. There was some minor damage to your lungs, what concerned us the most were the injuries that were already healing” the doctor explains.

“What why? Are they not healing right?” Steve asks confused.

“No they’re healing perfectly well, but the number of injuries you sustained, mixed with your malnutrition, lack of sleep and other non-physical forms of torture should have killed you. We believe that if it wasn’t for your Asgardian blood you wouldn’t be here right now” the doctor explained.

Steve practically growled in anger hearing this. They hadn’t interrogated you, they’d tortured you. The fact that you’d even been able to bring yourself to smile was a testament to how strong you were.

“Steve I’m fine,” you tell him reassuringly.

“Yes, and we believe you should make a speedy recovery, we want to keep you in overnight and then a week of bed rest and you should be good, just take it slow” the doctor smiles.

“Well, I don’t think we have any missions planned” you smirk making Steve chuckle.

“Good well rest up and call if you need anything” the doctor smiles.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

Once the doctor was gone Steve turned back to you holding your hand in both of his. He held you tightly pressing his lips to your skin repeatedly.

“I missed you so, so much” he mutters shaking your head.

You swallow the lump growing in your throat. Guilt was washing over you, you’d missed Steve terribly during your time in the raft. But there were points where you wished you’d died, unable to take much more. Seeing Steve now you felt terrible that you were willing to put him through that.

“You okay?” Steve asks noticing how quiet you were.

“Yeah I’m perfect I’m with you,” you say unable to bring yourself to tell him the truth.

Steve smiles brushing some hair out of your face “hungry?” He asks.

“Yeah, I could eat” you smile nodding your head.

“Okay, I’ll go see what I can get you,” Steve says standing up and kissing you gently “I’ll be right back”

While Steve was gone you looked out of the window taking in the beautiful view. You didn’t realise how much you missed the outdoors during your time locked in the raft. Smiling slightly when you saw a flock of brightly coloured birds fly past.

“I brought some food,” Steve says as he steps back inside.

“And a friend” Nat smirks following him in.

“Nat, what are you doing here? And why are you blond?” You ask her confused.

“Kinda betrayed Tony and helped Steve and Bucky get away, and everyone knows me as a redhead” Nat shrugs “which reminds me you should grow a beard” she adds pointing to Steve, who frowned.

“So you’re on the run like us?” You ask as she perches on the edge of your bed.

“Yep, I was in Norway for a bit before I had to sort a couple of things,” Nat says clearing her throat slightly “then I found this one in Stoos and a week later we broke you guys out”

“You were hiding in Stoos?” You ask Steve with a small smile.

“Couldn’t think of anywhere better” he smiles passing you a bowl full of fruit.

You smile to yourself as you start tucking into the bowl of fruit. Grateful for the first tasty thing you’ve had in weeks.

“The rest of the team are fine, all resting up and freshened up,” Nat says looking over at Steve.

“Good I know T’Challa is working to try and get us a deal, so we don’t have to be on the run forever,” Steve says nodding his head.

“Ross probably won’t let that fly, but public interest may sway him” Nat shrugs her shoulders.

“Well see, whatever happens, we’ll work it out” Steve sighs,

As you listened to their conversation your mind went to the rest of the team, and the fight at the airport. Suddenly remembering how it all ended.

“Nat, do you know how Rhodey is?” You ask her.

“Rhodey?” Steve questions, brows furrowed.

“While you were escaping in the jet Tony and Rhodey tried to follow you, me and Sam tried to stop them but Vision tried to shoot us from the sky, but it hit Rhodey instead,” you say swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing “he fell, we all tried to save him, but he hit the ground, he’s alive but-“

You shook your head slightly before looking over at Nat hoping she could finish the story.

“He’s okay, last I heard Tony built him special leg braces, it’ll be a long road but he’ll be okay,” Nat tells you.

“I’m sorry I had no idea that happened,” Steve says putting his hand on your shoulder and squeezing.

“It's okay, I’m just glad he’s okay, for a moment god… I thought he was gone” you sigh shaking your head.

“C’mere” Steve sighs standing up and wrapping his arms around you.

You sigh into his embrace burying your face in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Focus on the feeling of his arms around you, hands rubbing your back soothingly.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” T’Challa says walking in.

“No not at all, thank you for everything” you thank him.

“It’s nothing, I want to do everything I can to make up for my wrongdoings,” T’Challa says.

“I’m assuming you’re not mad at me for shocking you then?” Nat asks looking over her shoulder at the king.

“Well you’re on the run because of me so I think we can call it even” T’Challa smiles.

“How are you feeling?” He asks looking at you.

“Tired and sore, but I’m good” you smile.

“That’s good to hear, I promise I won’t keep you long, I just wanted to inform the captain that a room has been made up for him but I have been informed by reliable sources that you two have the habit of sharing hospital beds,” T’Challa says, Natasha giving you both a knowing look.

“Therefore I’ve arranged got a bed extension to be brought in so you’re more comfortable tonight” T’Challa smiles.

“Thank you, that means a lot” Steve smiles reaching out to shake T’Challa’s hand.

“It’s nothing, rest up the kingdom of Wakanda is open for you as long as you wish” T’Challa smiles.

“I’ll let you guys rest, I bet cap hasn’t been sleeping well the past couple of weeks,” Nat says standing up.

“I’ll have the extension brought in now” T’Challa agrees heading out with Nat.

A short moment later a couple of nurses wheeled in the bed extension which was basically half the width of the hospital bed. Once it was attached your hospital bed became a small double ready for Steve to join you.

“Have you really not been sleeping well?” You ask as he kicks off his shoes and climbs in.

“No, well, I have been sleeping but not as well as I normally do” he shrugs as he carefully wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer.

“Nightmares?” You ask.

“A couple, but not really bad ones” he admits looking down at you.

“But don’t worry about me and get some rest” he smiles kissing the top of your head.

You nod your head snuggling up closer to him, wrapping your arm around his waist. You took a deep breath as you listened to his steady heartbeat. The constant reminder that he was here with you.

“you know I love you don’t you?” You say quietly.

“Of course I do, always will,” he says looking down at you.

“Good” you sigh closing your eyes.

“I love you too” Steve whispers kissing the top of your head.

You nod your head gently hoping now that you were back with Steve. The horrors of the raft were behind you, no longer able to affect you. Or at least you hoped so.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary and turn on post notifications for updates!

#NiamhWrites #the demigod from asgard series #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #captainamerica #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #captain america x you #marvel #mcu #Chris Evans

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foreverindreamlandd · 1 year

Note

hi hi hi col my love <3

i'm definitely going to be sending some more of these to you throughout the month because omg what a cute fun way celebrate the holidays <3 just know i'm boxing up a bucky with a thousand smooches for you with a bow on top <3

🧣no context ships, a little random fact about me is that i attempted to go to college for a bachelors in fine arts with an emphasis on pen and ink - but that didn't go anywhere and now i'm considering trying to become a tattoo artist <3 I'm also going to break the rules like mir and not give you a preference (sorry i'm rambling, i'm exhausted lol)

Awww Remi thank you :,) I cannot wait for you to blow up my inbox with all the fun shenanigans <3

This has Biker!Steve Rogers written all over it are you KIDDING

You end up getting an apprenticeship at his friend Bucky's tattoo shop. When you first see the 6'something biker walk in wearing a faded leather jacket, ripped jeans, a red helmet in one hand and a paper bag in the other, you have to actively stop your jaw from dropping.

Mr cool calm suave as hell Steve Rogers stops short, taking you in for a few beats, his tongue pressing the inside of his cheek before he smiles.

And then he's walking by you to Bucky's office, and it doesn't take long for you to convince yourself that whatever that interaction was was just something you made up in your mind.

Until five minutes go by, and biker boy is walking over to you, pulling his leather jacket off. Underneath, he's just wearing a white tank top, and almost every inch of his body is covered in beautifully detailed ink.

"Buck tells me it's your first day," he says in a low, gravelly voice. "Want some practice?"

You swallow, eyes blinking a few times before you gesture to the chair beside you. "What would you like done?" you ask, mentally kicking yourself for the waiver in your voice.

He chuckles, pulling down his shirt until his chest is exposed. There's a little bit of un-inked space just over his hear.

"What's your name?"

"Remi?"

He smiles. "Remi. That's what I want, please."

Winter Wonderland Sleepover

#inbox #remi #col's winter wonderland sleepover #also STOP you are so cool #if you become a tattoo artist I will drive down and let you tattoo me #for real babes

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scattered-winter · 1 year

Note

Tell me abt ur correct mcu timeline

this is completely divorced from marvel comics since the mcu is a totally different continuity. it's my house now <3

Captain America: the First Avenger

1941 - Steve gets his powers (age 23) 1942 - the Howling Commandos are organized August 1945 - Bucky "dies" (age 28) approx. a week later - Steve crash-lands in the ocean (age 27) September 1945 - WWII ends

Captain Marvel

Nick Fury doesn't lose his eye to a fucking CAT. instead, he loses it to someone close to him who he once trusted before losing his eye in a climatic battle that forever changed how he deals with people. because in THIS house I don't fucking make my badass characters into a fucking JOKE (forever pissed at how they built Nick Fury up as this badass amazing character who is implied to have Been Through Shit to make him as slow to trust as he is today and then when the time came to shed some light on his story they....turned all that into a joke with the fucking cat. biting tearing maiming.)

Iron Man 1+2

Tony Stark does his thing and is really really obnoxious about it. idk it's been a while since I've seen these but that's pretty much all he does so w/e

Thor

chef's kiss. you stay exactly the way you are, thor 1

The Avengers

Phil Coulson being revealed to not be dead near the end, and thus leading into Agents of SHIELD would be kinda cool narratively, but it's not a must because Coulson's reveal in AoS is pretty badass as it is.

Thor: the Dark World

another chef's kiss

Iron Man 3

Tony Stark moves on from Iron Man and destroys all his suits, and actually sticks to the decision. he only appears in future movies as tech/support, if that. sincerely, someone who can barely stand Tony as he is and fucking hates it when he completely takes over someone else's movie :/

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Ultron is still the main antagonist because it's a fascinating concept, and the rest of the movie largely happens as written except Quicksilver doesn't get killed off because let's be real that was CHEAP. if you're gonna kill off your characters at LEAST do it in a believable way smh.

Captain America: Civil War

this is . a fun one. Tony isn't in the movie at all (<3), and there is very little conflict/screentime with the Avengers because that's a stupid ass thing to do in a Captain America movie. the plot centers around Steve and Co. evading global authorities while trying to prove Bucky's innocence in the UN bombing. no stupid Tony-centric plots and petty arguments in my good Christian Captain America movie

Black Widow

idk I wanted to see her early days in SHIELD. I wanna see how she met Clint and how two very very mistrustful people got to be so close. to be clear I don't ship them and I love their friendship so ideally this is for the aros and the aces <3333

Black Panther

chef's kiss. couldn't make it better if I tried <333

Spiderman: Homecoming

TONY!!! ISN'T!!!! IN IT!!!! <3!!!!!!! instead, the story focuses on Peter Parker (already operating as Spiderman since we've seen Uncle Ben die approx. 3700000 times) trying to become a true hero blah blah you get the idea

Thor: Ragnarok

CHEF'S!!!! KISS!!!!! from this point on, he never fights with a hammer (or hammer equivalent) because the entire POINT of the movie was to establish that HE DOESN'T NEED ONE !

Avengers: Infinity War/Endgame

hooooo boy. I can't even think of a way to fix this one. it's just not there anymore <3333333 and I also can't fix anything that comes after these movies just because it's all so convoluted and fucked up at this point it's beyond repair. but there's definitely no Dr. Hulk, and Steve doesn't go back to live with Peggy because fuck that bullshit

tldr: I don't fucking get rid of character development every time it happens <3333 I let the characters change and grow naturally because I know how to tell a fucking story

#hi sorry this ended up turning into me being angry <333 #but i can't fucking stand tony stark as a character ANYWAY and when he started taking over everyone ELSE'S movies too???#gnawing biting tearing #and also the fact that each character's development was reset with each new movie?? yeah no fuck that bullshit #it's hard to have correct opinions about the mcu but i bear it well #anti mcu #mads 🧠#every time i try to add to anything post-endgame i just. get too tired #there's Too Much To Fix. i choose my mental health over trying to bang out the dents of a sinking ship

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 year

Text

The Twin Flame - Chapter 21: Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

"Hang up, give up, for the life of us we can't get back..."

CW: Brief discussion of past SH, blood, wounds, first aid, needles

It was probably because the man who framed him for bombing the UN was currently sleeping in the room just down the hall from him.

Being on guard was completely rational, even if the situation he found himself in was not.

It could also be because you were incredibly pissed with him. Or maybe because you did not once emerge from your room for the remainder of the evening. And also, maybe. slightly because you kept calling him Bucky.

Even the unfamiliar location could be blamed, the mattress that felt too lush, so soft it felt like it might consume him as he slept, those were all good reasons that he was up in the night, tossing and turning, laying in bed even though he knows it's completely futile.

But he knows the real reason.

As an insomniac super soldier who hadn't slept a full night since he'd returned from Wakanda, he knows sleep wouldn't come even if Mr. Sandman himself came and brought him the sweetest of dreams.

Bucky gives up laying in the suffocating bed at around 2 AM.

He tears off his blanket with an annoyed huff. His bare feet hit the cold floor and he honestly has no idea what to do with himself. It's too quiet in the dead of the night. The shadows seem just a little darker in the unfamiliar space. The demons lurking around the corner seemed just a little too frightening to stay in this room.

He dresses himself, prepared to wander the halls all night until someone makes an appearance.

Somewhere in his tired, muddled head, thoughts begin slipping in. Because who knows, maybe you'll be wandering the halls too. And maybe he'll be able to convince you to tell him what's going on. Maybe he'll coax out some of the secrets that haunted you to help you carry that burden.

He knows he sounds like a crazy person. The overthinking, borderline plotting, on some strange off-chance he might run into you.

He tries telling himself that maybe your insomnia was short-lived and that you were now peacefully sleeping through the night. He audibly scoffs at himself as he exits his room.

As much as he wants that to be true for you, he knows it's not.

It's like a strange sixth sense. He just knows it. He knows you lie awake at night. He knows you've also counted ceiling tiles while you laid in bed waiting for a reprieve that you know will never come, stared up at a bright midnight moon until the sun chased it away, watched lonely cars pass through even lonelier streets.

And with that final thought, he knows he's going crazy. A few conversations and a sense of familiarity that tugged at his soul did not mean he knew you. It meant he was crazy. And that's all it meant.

At least that was what he was telling himself. When he was being honest with himself, he knew it was just a way to feel less shitty about the way he left things with you.

You stand in the kitchen in the dead of the night, gritting your teeth as you unravel the bloodied bandage that covered the gun shot wound on your arm.

Pain was easy for you. Pain you knew like the back of your hand. Pain was familiar, like an old childhood friend that just wouldn't let you go.

It was the emotional stuff that you weren't good at. Or at least, you weren't good at anymore.

You were so good at ignoring the pain that now radiated up and down your arm, that by the time you stood over the kitchen sink, slowly peeling the bandage off of your skin, your arm was weak, trembling as you exposed the wound to the cool night air. The muscle beneath it twitched and your hand shook of its own accord.

You crane your neck to get a look at the entire wound and you don't have to be a doctor to know it's really not good. “Damn it.”

Your small hiss of pain cuts through the silent dead of the night. It's like a beacon, calling out to Bucky to follow the sound. Without thinking, he feels himself being pulled into the kitchen to the sight of you hunched over the sink, your right arm extended out as your left hand tightly grips the marble counter.

“Wow… " Bucky quietly, teasingly whistles, unaware of the questionable first aid you were administering to yourself. "Now you’re swearing? Going rogue really changed you.”

“I did not go rogue,” you huff, dropping the the bandage on the floor as Bucky's voice cuts through your isolation.

“Not according to Sam," Bucky quietly grunts, slowly padding over to where you stand. The second he leans himself against the kitchen counter, he sees where your arm is extended as you try to disinfect and re-bandage your arm by yourself. He sharply inhales when he catches the sight of your wound. Blood is caked all over your arm, bled through the bandage that lay on the floor, all down your arm. And beneath the dried blood, see that the wound looks so painful, even to him. It's angry, clearly infected and inflamed. "Jesus...how long have you been walking around like that?"

"Since the bar," you reply, barely looking at him as you rummage through the small first aid kit for gauze and something to clean the wound.

"That was two nights ago."

"And Sam's dramatic," you redirect, pulling out multiple pieces of gauze along with several cloths you found in one of the cupboards.

"Yeah, he is," Bucky half-heartedly chuckles. His eyes expectantly flicker back down to your arm, "And the gash?"

"It’s nothing,” you mutter, running the cloth under warm water. He forcefully eyes you, like he knows you're trying to avoid the subject. You feel his glare burning holes in the side of your head. You roll your eyes with a sigh, "People just don't like it when you trespass on private property."

“Yeah, sounds about right," Bucky breathes. He takes a look at your arm again, how you're trying to twist it to clean it but can't because it probably hurts too much. "Here let me.”

“Don’t do that.”

He falters, stopping just short of making any physical contact with you. He looks up at you questioningly, his hand still hovering less than an inch away from touching you. “Don’t do what?”

“Be sweet to me when I’m trying to be mad at you two.”

“Would you prefer I yell at you like Sam?”

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me."

"Touche." His hand slowly moves closer to your arm. Hovering so close to your arm he can feel the warmth radiating off your skin, he looks up to you for permission before touching you. You reluctantly nod, finally accepting the help he offers. His right hand closes the distance, trailing the six jagged, crooked stitches up your arm. His touch is feather light. You can just barely feel the rough, calloused pads of his fingers as he lowers himself to tenderly examine the wound. "You popped a stitch or two... Three, actually. What'd you have a pre-schooler stitch you up or something?"

You school the shudder that rakes through your body as Bucky's breath trails down your arm. "Joaquin, actually."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Torres?" he probes, his eyes flickering away from his examination and back to you.

And just as quickly, you shut his inquisition down. "We're not doing that."

"What?"

"That," you pointedly repeat. "We're not going to do the whole catch up, find out where I've been, thing."

He stands up from his examination, a gently demanding look on his face. "And why not?"

"Because I'm tired. So not tonight."

He nods, his mouth twisting in a sad smile that almost breaks your resolve. He clears his throat, "It's infected."

Though he's not used to touching people anymore, particularly not with his metal hand, he raises it, pressing the cool vibranium against the heated, angry wound.

You breathe a small sigh of relief, the coolness alleviating some of the pain you've been desperately trying to ignore. "Thank you."

"Any time."

As he stands there, his face inches away from your arm, his eyes wander the wound again. They trail up and down the arm and that's when he notices it. The litany of scars, scratches, imperfections littering your arm. Some so old they are barely visible to him. Years of fighting, of surviving, all worn on your skin.

He knows that some are new, some would fade and no one would ever be able to tell. He also knows that some would never fade, some would always be there to serve as a reminder of battles and wars you probably wanted nothing more than to forget. And that was only talking about the physical scars.

One sticks out to him. One that he knows would never fade. Not physically, not emotionally, and certainly not mentally. Not with the way it's embedded into your skin. Not with how far up your forearm it goes. One straight line. Decisive. So deep that another person couldn't have done that to you. You would have moved away. It's human instinct to move away. Even if you were held down, the angle, the placement. The conclusion screams so loudly that it can't be ignored.

When you feel a hitch in his breath still ghosting down on your arm, your eyes flicker to him for a moment. You don't really have to. You already know what he's seen. You don't meet his eyes as you raise your hand to cover the scar, you quietly murmur, "It was a long time ago."

Still holding his hand to the wound, he asks, "Did you mean it?"

"It was a long time ago."

He waits for it. For you to tell him that you didn’t mean it. That you don’t feel that way anymore. That, now, you were happy to be alive. That you wouldn't do that again.

But you don’t. You don't say anything.

He remembers moments from what felt like several lifetimes ago. A person who told him some of the most personal, most vulnerable moments of your life, just so he wouldn't feel so alone. Just so he could know that even if you didn't know him, you still knew him, you still understood him. You trusted Bucky when few others did, you held his hand when most were too scared to stand within a 100 foot radius of him.

It's clear that you weren't that person anymore. He just couldn't figure out if that person was actually gone or simply lie dormant to protect the heart that was much too soft for the life you'd lived.

He figures that's also his fault. Why would you offer any vulnerability, allow any moment of weakness after what he did?

In that moment, he decides to return a little piece of the vulnerability that you once showed him. Just a little piece that no one, not even his therapist had ever heard.

"Steve was the reason. My reason. Of why I didn't... you know?" he lowly stammers out. He figures that you don't need much more of an explanation than that, if anyone could understand what he's trying to say, it'd be you. You look up at him, finally meeting his intense gaze. There's a vulnerability in them that you can't reject. That you can't for the life of you shut down. You silently nod, not encouraging him to continue, not for anything except to offer a quiet understanding. He shrugs, grabbing one of the suture kits in the first aid kit. "I just couldn't be selfish. After everything he did, I couldn't. I know it was rotten work, but he did it anyway. I owe him that much."

The words hang in the air for a moment before you reply, "Steve didn't see it like that. I hope you know that."

"I know." For a moment, he allows the silence to overtake the room, for the vulnerability to envelope the both of you. He clears his throat just a second later, focusing back on your injury. "You're gonna need to be stitched up. Do you see anything there to numb you up?"

Without even sparing a fleeting glance to the first aid kit laid out beside you, you shake your head. "No. I don't need it anyway."

His face furrows, unable to hide his repulsion at your suggestion. "What?"

"It's fine," you flippantly restate. "You can do it without it. I'll be just fine."

"It's infected," Bucky explains, hoping this is just some miscommunication and that you're not really offering to have him stitch up an infected wound without any sort of pain management. "It'll hurt like a bitch. A hell of a lot more than a fresh wound would've."

"I know, I can handle it. Promise."

"I'm not interested in testing your pain limits," he vehemently refutes.

"I'm telling you, it doesn't bother me," you insist.

"And I'm reminding you that you're still a person," he angrily counters, frustrated by your general lack of concern over your own well-being. "A human, that as far as I know, sure as hell feels pain."

You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes at him like all of this is complete overkill, because yes, you felt pain, but you weren't lying when you said it didn't bother you. It wasn't that it didn't actually hurt, it was that you'd had decades of practice ignoring it.

You used to do it to yourself. Hurt yourself as punishment. It was ingrained within you, taught to the people that locked you up like an animal. It was what you had earned for the darkness that lurked beneath your skin, or at least, a darkness others claimed you had within yourself.

You recall a time long ago when you were first living with Sam.

Even now, you remember the situation so clearly. He'd just slammed the door shut. Still, the sharp noise startled you, and the glass in your hand shattered at your feet, shards scattered all over the floor, over your shoes.

In retrospect, it wasn't anything that couldn't be easily fixed, but as a newly minted person in the outside world, you felt guilt overwhelm you, for making his life harder, for breaking things in his home, for being a burden when he so kindly took you in.

The following action was reflexive. Turning on the stove, holding your hand over the scalding flame, it was second nature. You weren't proud of that. You remember how quickly he yanked your hand away from the stove, and throughly lectured you about how wrong that was.

Pain was not punishment. And there was no virtue in suffering.

You never did it again. And to you, that was progress.

You didn't welcome pain into your life, you just tolerated it when it was there.

That was improvement.

"Yes, I feel pain," you concede. "But it doesn't even bother me."

"Did Torres stitch you up without numbing it?" Bucky furiously demands.

"No."

"Well, I'm not going to either." He storms to the other side of you, furiously raking through the first aid kit that seemed to be packed with everything a person could need for an emergency - except for something to numb your arm. "If I can't find anything, then I'm taking you to the hospital myself."

"No!" you frantically object, startling Bucky. His gaze widens in shock, flickering over to you. You take a split second to compose yourself. "No hospital. No doctors."

"You're hurt."

"No hospital. No doctors," you repeat, dropping your tone back to just above a whisper. You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to trust you. "Please."

He silently acquiesces by continuing to search through the first aid kit. He stops when he sees a tube of some numbing cream, over the counter, a low dose of pain relief, but it's all he has unless he's going to let you walk around with a gaping, bleeding wound. He looks at you with a concerned, deeply apologetic expression. "This isn't going to do much, but it'll help. It'll be better than nothing at all."

"Okay."

You push the thought of pain out of your head as he gently but thoroughly coats the wound in the numbing gel.

"We should give it a few minutes to give it it's best shot."

"Okay," you agree with an extended exhale and a reluctant nod.

The waiting seemed to make it all the worse. The anticipation of that pain that would come. Waiting here, Bucky standing there, so close to you. You weren't sure the last time you were this aware of his proximity.

Actually, you were. You knew the exact moment he was this close to you. And then you remember how terribly that moment ended. So terribly that he cut you out of his life. The remembrance is grain of salt in the wound.

And now he was here. Standing so close to you that you were almost positive he could hear your heart racing.

To put the slightest amount of distance between the two of you, you whirl around to face the counter behind you where you'd placed one of Zemo's nicer bottles while rummaging for the first aid supplies. You haphazardly twist the cap, pouring yourself a generous serving in one of Zemo's crystal glasses.

You turn back to find him watching you with a questioning look in his eye and an amused grin lighting up his face.

"Hey, you're fixing the outside wounds, I need something for the inside wounds," you dryly joke.

"Inside wounds," he says, trying his best to maintain a serious inflection. He breaks only a moment later with a short but hearty laugh. "I never thought you were the time to drink your troubles away."

"Maybe you don't know me as much as you think you do," you quip, your words carrying more weight than you intended.

"Or maybe I know you well enough to know when you're deflecting."

You're taken aback by his quick retort. You're so unused to anyone seeing through you anymore, but even in the way he says it with such ease. His words are callous, offhanded, like he's telling you the color of the sky, as though it's basic fact to him.

He sees right through you like he's known you all along.

But you'd spent months convincing yourself that you made that feeling up, that you saw things that were never there, felt things that weren't real.

You're not vindicated by Bucky's words, by the knowledge that he does, in fact, know you. It still doesn't change any of it, not what transpired, not where you were, none of it.

Because if he did, if he really did know you, then that must mean he just didn't like what he saw. And from a person you thought you'd shared something with, you couldn't accept that, you couldn't accept the fresh batch of fears and insecurities that your new conclusion would force you to wade through.

"Or maybe I just had to grow up. Maybe I had to learn to stand on my own two feet for once," you bite back. "That's what everyone wanted, right?"

The words exchanged are bittersweet, it's sad, beautiful, and tragic all at once.

It's a victory that you're still speaking to him. A loss that you're so angry with him. Devastating because he knows the role he played here. But maybe he doesn't know you as well as he thought he did.

Even now, he swears there was a moment he did.

In just these few short days with you, that feeling keeps bubbling up, threatening to seep out, for the words to pour out of his mouth. Before he can stop the feeling from dripping out into his words, he quickly and quietly responds, "Not everyone." He waits a beat, hoping that an ounce of courage will seep in, just enough for him to finish the sentence. He wants to say it. He thinks it over and over, 'I didn't want you to be different'. The bravery doesn't come. "But maybe-"

"I think that's enough maybe's for tonight," you cut him off, a small laugh embedded in your words.

He chuckles with an awkward smile. "Probably."

You laugh along with him for a second. You jut your chin up towards the small cupboard just off to the right, "Grab a glass."

"Sure." He grabs one of the crystal glasses, placing it down right beside yours. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he watches the heavy hand with which you pour his drink.

He raises his eyebrows, silently challenging you, not quite believing you'll drink your glass in its entirety.

"Wow," Bucky laughs, watching as you down the drink without even a wince. He smiles tipping his own glass in your direction as the liquor passes through his lips. He does his best to school his wince with a forced clearing of his throat, "I'm impressed."

"You don't befriend Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff without learning to hold your liquor."

"You're different," Bucky wistfully observes, a conflicted smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe you just don't know me as well as you thought you did."

"Maybe I don't." His words are bittersweet. Because maybe he doesn't know you as well as he thought he did. But there was a moment all those years ago that he swore he did. He never told you. He never told anyone that. It didn't change that the feeling thrummed beneath his skin every time you were near. He decides to do what he does best, ignoring his own confusing feelings for the sake of the mission. He softly shakes his head as he opens the small suture kit, "I'm gonna start. You're gonna tell me if it gets too bad and you need me to stop, okay?"

"Okay."

"Swear?"

You softly chortle, agreeing with a small nod. "Swear."

"So tell me then, tell me what I don't know, what I'm not understanding."

"I thought we weren't doing this tonight," you chuckle, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of the needle digging into your flesh for the very first stitch.

"What's going on with you?"

"With the powers?" you ask, though you get the sense that's not what he's actually talking about. You exhale as the worst of the first stitch is over. All you feel now are the odd sensation of thread tugging at your skin. Though that's not really what he means, it's still something, so he nods, watching for your both your response and to check to make sure you're still okay. "I don't know. I've been like this since we've been back."

"You didn't say anything."

"No, I didn't."

"Is this why you left Louisiana?" he gently prompts, hoping to distract you as he begins the second stitch.

"No - Partly - I- I don't know, I guess I was looking for something." You don't know how to articulate what it was that you were searching for. Sure, there's the actual logistics of what you were searching for: a birthdate, biological parents, place of origin. Answers - that's all you were looking for. But what you searched for was far more difficult. Something intangible. A feeling. An idea. Something that felt like the bittersweet waves of nostalgia that often washed over you. Something that felt like home. Something that you couldn't ruin. Or infect. Or destroy. Something that wouldn't leave. Something that couldn't be taken from you. "Something bigger than myself. To hold onto... It sounds stupid when I put it like that."

"It's not stupid. It's - That sounds perfectly reasonable, actually," he assures you, tying off the second stitch. "But can I ask you something?" You look at him with a challenging expression and an unimpressed smirk. "Just one. Please?"

The corner of your mouth pulls up at the sight of Bucky's pleading expression. You loll your head once, reluctantly agreeing to another question. "Maybe just one."

"Isn't that what family is for?" he muses.

You halfheartedly smile. "I don't have a family. Remember?"

His eyebrows pull together, the corner of his mouth slightly pulling up as he goes back to finish the third stitch. "Really? Because that's not what that looked like to me. Earlier with Sam, I mean."

"I'm not Sam's family. Sam has a family."

He stops himself from rejecting your words out of hand. He knows how untrue they are, but it's clear to him that you don't. He thinks of the only thing that's even comparable to you and Sam. "You know, me and Steve used to fight like that."

"That's not the same and you know it. To Sam, I'm - well, I'm just Reckless Idiot #1."

"Steve was punk, I was jerk," he cheekily offers.

You gently push his shoulder as he takes one of the damp rags to clean up the rest of your arm, a small laugh bubbling out of your mouth, "Shut up, that's not true."

"It is! Most of the time, we were assholes to each other. We used to piss each other off all the time. I'd yell at Steve for getting into fights he knew he couldn't win. He'd yell at me and tell me that it wasn't my job to protect him. It didn't stop me from doing it. And Steve... well, Steve never stopped getting into fights. It doesn't mean he wasn't a brother to me."

"Maybe I'm just tired of fighting wars we'll never win," you unexpectedly offer, the confession surprising even yourself.

"We did win," he gently reminds you.

You look up at him with a vaguely pained expression that has nothing to do with your newly stitched up arm. "It doesn't feel like much of a win, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

You quietly inhale. "People just don't get it, you know? Constantly going from one fight to the next. Waiting for the next thing to happen because it'll always happen. Something's always going to be lurking around the corner. We're always just going- "

"From one fight to the next," Bucky finishes for you, remembering how those exact words left his mouth only weeks ago.

"From one fight to the next," you repeat, your voice dropping as you look, really look, at Bucky for the first time all night. You keep speaking, holding his intense gaze, "And sometimes all I want is to be done. To have a little bit of quiet, to try and be happy for once, to- to have- "

"To have peace."

"Peace," you softly breathe.

The word feels odd in your mouth, the taste of it is unfamiliar, the syllables don't sound right as it leaves your mouth. You've known for quite a while that you were not meant for peace. Your only hope was that you wouldn't ruin anyone else's hopes for peace. And that included Bucky.

Without looking away from you, he grabs a fresh bandage, gently wrapping it around the wound. "I understand."

"Thank you."

You mean it for everything, for taking care of you, for sharing parts of himself you weren't sure he'd shared with anyone else, but mostly, mostly for understanding you in a way that you weren't sure anyone else ever could. It reminded you that, on the few times he allowed you to see it, his soul looked so much like your own.

"You're welcome."

"We should try to get some rest. Big day tomorrow," you whisper, looking down at his hand that lingers on your skin though the bandage is already secured.

Though he notices you don't say anything about sleep, he doesn't point it out. He knows there's a very good chance the two of you will lie in your lonely beds until the morning sun finally ends your nighttime misery.

He drops his hand slowly, trailing your skin for a second longer, "Yeah, that's a good idea."

In spite of your words, you both remain standing there, in the dimly lit kitchen, for another long moment. The tension is palpable, electricity crackles in the air.

And even now, you can't help but notice that Bucky's ocean blue eyes are like a current that just kept pulling you back in. The thing was, you couldn't risk getting swept up again, you couldn't take another goodbye, so you finally gather the will to look away. "Good night."

"Night."

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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