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bb-babyy · 2 years

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Spring Break Of '86 (7)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warning(s): Mature; swearing

Summary: Instead of enjoying a lavish spring break with your college friends, you were off running around Hawkins dodging the police with Eddie Munson, your ex.

Word Count: 2.0k

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You were shitting bricks by the time you had reached the cellar doors. Sweat began to drench underneath your underarms and along your brows profusely from the short run in the woods. You had Steve drop you off a few blocks away to not get caught by the police.

You could imagine the sound of a clock ticking inside your head as it began to count down from the impending doom of getting caught. You felt silly; it was as if you were still a rebellious high schooler and not a 20-year-old with a drinking problem shuffling through a vent. You didn't wait to take a breath as you placed the vent and painting back in place. You quickly threw your bag under your bed and ripped off your clothes. Just as you put on a pair of clean pajama pants, there was a pounding at your door.

"You better unlock this door right now!" You could hear your mother shrieks from the other side. You quickly slipped the shirt in your hands over your head and shuffled up the stairs. Unlocking the door, you opened it to see your mother's irritated face.

"You've slept way too long, and it's time to do something with your life rather than laying in bed," she huffed as she began to walk away. Your heart finally stopped pounding as you slumped against the open door. You didn't have time to celebrate your personal success as your siblings appeared from thin air. They gently shoved you through the door and back down the stairs.

"Well?"

"Eddie didn't do it–"

"God, we already know that!" Mary said, interrupting you. Rolling your eyes, you told them everything. The Upside Down, what's happened in the past three years, and even warned them to pack a bag just in case they needed to skip town. There wasn't a reason to lie or be deceitful; it was better for them to face the truth if shit goes terrible than to be lost, little sheep.

"Damn," they had said simultaneously.

"That's what I said! Anyways, I need to shower and digest everything that has happened in the past 24 hours, or my head will explode. Excuse me," you said, stepping around them to get to your dresser.

"What are you going to do after?" Matty asked, his hands picking apart a loose string on your blanket. "I don't know yet, but when I do, I'll let you guys know," you promised as you collected everything needed for a shower.

The scorching hot water felt like heaven on your body. As you sat in the tub, your arms wrapped around your legs; your muscles ached, and your head throbbed way too much to stand. You placed your hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs that escaped from your lips. You were scared. For Eddie, Steve, and the kids, and especially the fact that you may lose someone trying to kill this Freddy Krugar wannabe.

Once you had collected yourself, you turned the shower off. Taking a deep breath, you finally opened your eyes and froze. You were no longer in the bathroom that you remembered. The room was dark and damp. Soft white particles floated around your vision, making a shiver crawl up and down your spine.

"Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" You scrambled and pulled the towel off the shower rod to wrap around your exposed body. You were in the Upside Down. It was precisely how Dustin had described it. Holy shit! You were in the Upside Down.

Sure, you had dreamt about the place a few times before leaving Hawkins, but that's all they had ever been, dreams— nightmares. They had stopped once you had moved away, but now that you were back in the cursed town, they continued to resurface again.

There was a loud bang somewhere in the house that had snapped you out of your trance. You were naked and defenseless in the bathroom. You not only needed a weapon, but you needed a way out of this fucked up place.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you reached for the doorknob; just as you had ripped the door open, it felt like you were finally taking a breath of fresh air once again. The particles were gone, and you had never been more grateful for the invention of electricity as light poured over your shoulders and into the open doorway. Your father stood on the other side of the open door and raised a questioning eyebrow at the sight of you.

"Hey, p–pops! I forgot my clothes downstairs, sorry," your voice wavered. He gave a sharp nod and continued down the hall. You sighed in relief and closed the door once again. "What the fuck? What the fuck. What the fuck!" You felt like you were going insane. You didn't understand what was happening. Why on the evergreen earth did you see what you had hoped were only visions of the Upside Down.

You didn't waste any time getting dressed again before stomping out of the bathroom. You needed to know if the twins were in the same boat as you were. You searched each and every room and felt your heart drop at the fact that they were empty.

Your heart began to pound in your ears, and you felt sick. What if that Vecna sonofabitch got to them? You could feel your eyes prick with tears, and just as you began to think the worst of the worst, your siblings were standing with your parents in the living room.

You could finally feel your lungs exhale the air you had been holding. You took several steps and threw your arms around them. The room became quiet as muttered whispers fell past your lips. Leaning back, you studied their almost identical features.

"What's the matter with you? Are you drunk?" Your mother asked, gaining your attention. She was baffled at your sudden display of affection. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from saying something you would regret.

"Jesus, mom! What's wrong with you?" Everyone was taken surprised by Matty's chide remark. He rarely snapped at her, and when he did, she usually took it as one of his tics acting up to prevent her feelings from getting hurt.

"Mathew! You better lose that tone," your father warned. "So it's perfectly fine for mom to criticize them for giving us a simple hug? That's fucked up, even for you. Dad," Mary said.

You felt like you were dreaming. Your siblings had never, ever in their entire existence fought with your parents. You were usually the one sticking up for yourself or for them. You never wanted them to feel the way you did, the way you still do, so you always made them promise to sit back and let you handle them even when your heart was on the line.

The room was eerily silent. Your parents were flabbergasted at the heated glares. You wanted to laugh, but you also wanted to cry.

"A–anyways. Why are you guys all dressed up?" you asked. You didn't know why you were trying to spare your parent's feelings. It must've been your inner child still begging for your parent's approval.

"The Cunninghams are holding a funeral for their daughter, Chrissy. She was murdered by your no-good freak of an ex-boyfriend, Eddie Munson," your mom hissed. And you had immediately regretted sparing their feelings.

"You seriously can't believe that Eddie killed her? Jason Carver is more likely to kill her than the town's biggest nerd," Mary said. She had an annoying little sister relationship with Eddie, so the names she called him were nothing short but endearing.

"The kids are kind of right, dear, despite everything. The kid has noodles for arms," Your father said. Your mother looked hurt and fed up.

"Why are you all ganging up against me?" You turned away, rolling your eyes as the waterworks began. She always knew how to make the situation about her. She wailed leaving the room with your dad trailing after her.

"Jesus," Matty mumbled, shaking his head in disdain. You could only nod along with Mary as you could still hear their argument on the other side of the house. "Anyways, what's wrong? Why did you have that sneak attack earlier?" Mary asked, dragging you to the couch. Goosebumps rose on the flesh of your neck as you remembered why you were freaked out in the first place.

"I…Do–do you guys get… Christ." You felt like an idiot as you stuttered and tried to piece your words together. You felt even worse when fear flashed in their eyes.

"I've been having nightmares about the Upside Down, what I think is the Upside Down anyways. And they started a year before I graduated, right around the time when Will Byer's had disappeared. They only stopped when I left for college. But now, I'm seeing shit even when I'm awake."

"No." You looked at Matty as he shook his head. "No, I haven't– I'm sorry," he said, holding your hand. You turned to look at his counterpart, who had only shook her head. She had a sad, sympathetic smile on her lips.

You had mixed feelings; on the one hand, you were grateful that they weren't exposed to the nightmares hidden within, but on the other hand, you were scared that you were completely alone.

"Well, I'm just going to figure this all out later, but for right now, don't you guys have a funeral to get to?" You broke the tension, not wanting them to worry any longer.

"You're not going?" You only shook your head at Matty. You didn't feel it would be appropriate for you to be there for more than obvious reasons. Matty began to protest and throw every reason why you should be there, but Mary stayed silent. Just as you were about to put your foot down, she spoke up.

"I need you. I need you there, please?"

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The funeral was beautiful despite being a closed casket event. It was a fitful end for a person like Chrissy, even though it was decades too early. You were thankful no one had recognized you as they were too focused on their own grief. Mary had stayed in your arms almost the entire time unless she was paying her respects to the family.

"I'll be right back. I just have to run to the restroom," you said, seeing the hurt on her face once you detached yourself from her. She nodded and quickly latched on to Matty, not having the strength to be alone.

You gently dapped your face and neck with a damp paper towel. The church bathroom had surprisingly terrible lighting as the lightbulb above you continued to flicker. Holding the edges of the porcelain sink, your head dipped down as you tried to relax. For some reason, it felt like you had been watched during the entire service.

Looking up, right behind your reflection, a creature loomed over your shoulder. Your mouth dropped in surprise at the veiny vine-like ropes wrapped around the beast.

Its dark gray eyes lacked any form of humanity as they glared with hate. Your eyes unintentionally dipped down, and you could see its mangled hand. The fingers were stretched far too long to be considered normal.

Your heart stopped as it raised its clawed hand towards you. Squeezing your eyes closed, you turned around to face the inevitable. Nothing. You waited a few seconds more, but a light shove on your shoulders made you crack open an eye. Jason Carver glared at you as his arm was stretched out, his hand still resting on your shoulder.

"You scared the shit out of me, asshole!" Hissing, you tried shoving his hand off you, but he relented and kept it in place. His blue eyes studied you for a second before a humorless smirk fell on his lips.

"You know, I remember you; it took me a while, but then it clicked. I don't know how I could forget that you were that freak's bitch, but seeing you up close, god, you're just as disgusting as you were back then." Your temper flared as he slowly tightened his hold on you, but you kept quiet. The anger in his eyes only grew as he stared at you.

"I can't believe you had the deficiency to show your face here. Because of your boyfriend, my girlfriend is dead! So, where's the freak?!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fic #stranger thing s4 #reader insert

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billyhargrovebabe · 3 years

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Thank youuu for the tag!! @lovebillyhargrove 💞💞💞 I love reading everyone’s pieces!!

WIP TAG GAME

Rules: Share the latest line however much you want from your work in progress and then tag as many people as there are words in the line as you want.

I’ve got about a hundred half-written Harringrove pieces bc I have commitment issues apparently lol. I also hate my writing but that’s besides the point…

Anyways… here’s one.

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Steve knew it was his fault.

The last time he and Billy had been together, he had said the word — blurted it out when their skin was flushed together.

He's in love with Billy Hargrove. Had told Billy so much himself.

And Billy had just gone rigid beneath him, his bright eyes fading into something reserved, something Steve hadn't understood as he pulled himself up from the blond's chest, stricken with panic.

"I'm not— I didn't..."

Billy never responded, not really. He hadn't said those words back, he had just said shut up, pretty boy, and pulled him back down to his body, pressing his lips to Steve's blazing cheek.

He hadn't seen Billy since then, after he had vomited his feelings at the poor guy, when they weren't even official. He knew he was the reason Billy had just disappeared — scared of commitment, not feeling the same way, blah, blah.

It’s been a month. A whole ass month. No golden curls or baby blues in sight.

And sure, he’d noticed the bruises now and then, dusted across Billy’s ribs or occasionally his face, but he’d never thought anything of them other than Billy being Billy. He liked to fight, whether it be Tommy H or some nameless stranger on the other side of town. Billy came with bruises — that was just Billy.

Except he storms into Hopper’s office, ignoring Flo’s protests about it being too early, that the chief’s having his coffee time, and slams the door shut behind him.

“How has a teenager being missing for over a month and you’ve not done a damned thing about it?!” He spits out, not bothering to sit in the chair opposite Hop, that he gestures to.

Hop drinks his coffee so scalding hot that the steam escapes his mouth, blinks sluggishly, and says nothing but a grumpy, “Huh?”

And Steve wants to shout, to scream, why does nobody give a fuck about Billy?! Instead, he stares down the older man with narrowed eyes.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove. He’s been gone an entire month to the day. He could be dead for all I know! And you— you’ve just sat around drinking coffee and eating donuts!”

Hopper sends him this calculated look as he sets his giant mug down on the wooden desk top. Steve’s expecting something — an excuse, a lie — but he’s met with the smoke of the cigarette Hopper plucks from his breast pocket and lights up instead.

He slams a hand down on the desk, the coffee mug jumping at the impact. “There's a loving family back at home for him, who you told there was nothing you could do to find him! What excuse for a chief are you, Hopper?!"

The older man, calmer than a dove floating in the wind, rises to his feet. He yanks open his top drawer, empties the contents on the desk in front of him. Spreads the small squares across the glossy surface.

Steve furrows his brows, seeing the polaroids Hop was spreading out in front of him. He leans closer.

“Does it look like this kid is from a loving family, Steve?”

The smoke he huffs out is sour in Steve’s nostrils, knocks his stomach queasy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It sours more when he picks up the first of many and eyes it carefully.

Billy.

He’s looking away from the camera, baby blues focused on the floor, with a bloody and bruised face. One of his arms is held close to his chest, bent at an ungodly angle and his t-shirt is stained, soaked in several places, notably from his dripping nose.

Steve’s stomach violently lurches.

“The kid’s lucky to be alive if I’m being damn honest.”

He picks up another, sees a trail of marks stomped into Billy’s ribs, skin broken in some places and swollen. Blood is etched across his chest, trailing down his neck.

The next is a close up of his face. His bright blue eyes behind splats of bruising, one eye almost closed off entirely as he stares directly into the camera. And his lips — those soft lips that Steve knew well — were cracked with bloodstained teeth poking from behind.

There was still maybe half a dozen more.

He’s never felt so dumb in his life. Being a kid who’s parents were distant to him entirely and permanently disproving of him, he should have spotted the signs. Billy’s dad was a cold-blooded abuser.

The date printed in the corner of each square makes his breath catch in his lungs, that night. The one where Billy fled in the middle of the night after Steve confessed his love for him. He probably got caught sneaking in by his dad because Steve couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

“Not convinced? Take a look at the damned report." Hopper jerks, flops down this thick file that claps against the wood of the desk and sends the polaroids flying.

Steve reaches for it, flips it open with a harsh swallow past the lump in his throat.

William 'Billy' Hargrove described the assault against him by his father after coming home late at night. He says he was pushed to the floor and landed on his arm. His father then proceeded to inflict more damage to his body — specifically using the force of his boots against Billy's ribs. Billy explained how the injuries to his face came after his father had picked him up from the floor by his collar, and verbally assaulted him. Finally, Billy left their family home and drove off in his car, to which he was met by Chief Jim Hopper less than an hour later.

His heart thunders in his chest. If he had known— he would’ve done something about the bruises earlier. He would have told Hopper or… shit, he would have even given Billy a key to his house to keep him away from his dad.

“That's no loving family, Steve.”

“I didn’t know,” he confesses to the older man. He lets out a shaky breath, wills the tears in his eyes to stay put. “Is he okay?”

Hop grunts. “He’s fine. He’s safe now.”

“Where is he?”

“That I can’t tell you just yet — for his protection and for the sake of the case. I’m working on the case day and night to get the kid’s old man behind bars. And before you start— he doesn’t appreciate being kept away from everyone either. Especially you.” Hop points his burning smoke pointedly at Steve, his cheeks burn instantly.

“Here…” The older man scribbles on one of his notepads, tears the sheet off before handing it to Steve. “One phone call a day, alright? That’s it.”

Steve nods immediately, catches sight of Hopper’s phone sat on the desk.

“Nuh-uh. You can use your own landline, kid. Don’t want you blocking up my line all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Hop.” Steve spins on the spot, heads for the door with a rush in his steps. He needs to get home and to dial the number, needs to apologise and maybe tell Billy he loves him again now that he’s safe.

“And remember— one call a day only!”

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Polaroids will forever be one of my favourite prompts for these boys… this one just went a different way to usual? Don’t hate me lol.

Steve’s an oblivious bean, a little dumb too… but that’s okay — he figures it out eventually. Also, I think y’all can kinda guess where Billy is, no?

Tags:

Everyone who made it this far, this is my personal nomination for you to participate!!

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy x steve #billy/steve #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fics #angsty #mentions of abuse #Steve is oblivious #jim hopper

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

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Skin Deep ~ Part 4

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! As @that-one-person reminded me, we were overdue the next chapter of Skin Deep! I hope this has been worth the wait. As always, if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know! Also, requests are open and I love when you re-blog and like my work! Thanks for all your kindness!!

This is the 4th Part of our Story with links below to the previous chapters! ENJOY!

Skin Deep Part 1

Skin Deep Part 2 Skin Deep Part 3

Pairing; Loki x Reader, Steve x Reader, Bucky, Natasha, Nick Fury, Thor and Valkyrie round out of cast! Summary: Picking up where Part 3 ended: You’re on the run with Loki, who wants answers. Steve comes clean to an old friend, Natasha and Fury make a plan. Warnings: References to violence, smut, intergalactic travel, and some kissing!

From his vantage point at Steve’s grill Bucky noticed the almost frantic vibration coming off his oldest friend from all the way across the lawn. And Steve wasn't carrying any champagne. In fact, he was whispering furiously to Natasha, shaking his head.

Looking to the skies, Bucky smelled the electricity in the air. It made the hairs on his human arm rise, antenna to trouble, tuning into the wrecked wavelength his friend was putting out. It was about you, of that Bucky was certain, and with your own strange behavior tonight, he knew trouble was en route. He had let you sneak away, sensing your breaking point, knowing your need for a minute alone. It was the reason you were such great drinking buddies. You let Bucky be himself and he returned the favor. Besides, something in Steve was different these days, something Bucky didn't exactly like. His friend, Captain America, hero to the weak, was pushy. Aggressive. Angry.

And when Steve looked at you, there was a gleam, a spark of possessiveness that gave Bucky pause. Sure, you were amazing. Funny, smart, undeniably sexy in a way all your own. Bucky understood wanting you, he even got the need to have you, hold you, lock you down with a ring. If only Steve could see how unhappy you were. Each time Bucky saw you, the strain had pulled more of your joy away. Sure, you baked pies, smiling the whole way, chirping platitudes and teasing Steve. That happiness, though, it never reached your eyes. Telling Steve that an engagement ring was too much, too soon, Bucky had tried in his very stoic way to prove that you weren't ready. Never fully able to give his buddy his blessing, Bucky had opted instead to provide you a shoulder to lean on. And lean you did. Slugging back vodka shots at all these parties, in the quiet and seldom used spaces of kitchens and dining rooms, you had talked easily with Bucky. No topic was too wild or off limits, with the exception of Steve. Anytime the name of your new love came up, the subject would change. You'd deflect and Bucky let you. Maybe he should have pushed harder, he thought as Steve stomped his way. Maybe Bucky should have forced you to talk about whatever issues you and Steve faced, tried his hand at advice, or offered excuses for his best friend’s erratic behavior. If Bucky had done that, then perhaps the stifling stench of trouble wouldn't be pooling around the party, pulsing through all the high energy people gathered together. “Buck… come here, would ya?” Sure, Steve sounded like himself. Jovial, a little concerned in that serious way he had, but not mad. For some reason, it reminded Bucky of the way Steve’s father would talk, just before he’d beat the ever loving hell out of Sarah… or Steve. It soured the stomach of battle tested Sergeant Barnes. War was coming. “Sure thing, punk.” Cocking his head, Steve couldn’t quite look his friend in the face, opting instead to focus on the open back door of his farm house. Would you come strutting out of it, unaware and un-phased? Steve prayed for that, even if his gut told him otherwise, “Bucky, you said my girl was in the ladies’ room?” Tucking his hands in his pockets, nodding solemnly, “Yea, Stevie. Yea. She had to piss. It happens.” Waiting for the battle was exhausting and Bucky just didn’t have the patience to stew in the slow burn of Steve’s anger. Clapping a broad hand along the neck of the Winter Soldier, Steve pulled his friend close. To anyone looking, the embrace would seem brotherly, kind. What they couldn’t see was the tight grip used to keep Bucky contained, or hear Steve’s heated harsh whisper, “Where the fuck is she, Buck? I know you know. So tell me.” Reacting instinctively, pulling against the restraining hook of Steve’s palm, “I don’t know what you’re talking about… she went to the bathroom, I came out here.” “Well she’s gone now and so is Loki-” Stepping back out of Steve’s reach, “Wait. Loki was here? I thought you said he left. Opened the Bi-Frost or whatever. Disappeared.” Almost growling, Steve ran desperate hands through his blonde hair, ignoring Bucky and turning to Natasha, “We need to let Fury know. Set a perimeter. Loki won’t be able to get off the planet, not without help anyway.” “Fury’s involved? Steve, what is going on?” Jabbing a finger into the chest of his best friend, Steve spun, spitting, “You let Loki kidnap my fiance, that’s what’s going on! And now I have to find her and rescue her before that greasy alien asshole does something else to the woman I love!” Rearing back, Bucky inhaled, lifting his shoulders. If you have to fight a friend, fight fair, he thought. Already Bucky could read violence in Steve’s muscle movement. The graceful way Steve bounced on his toes to build momentum into his fierce throw was minute but effective. Dropping his right arm, just a touch before stepping into his swing, Steve's eyes screamed murder and they were locked onto James Buchanan Barnes. A swish of air brushed at Buck's dark hair as the blow missed. Bucky easily blocked the punch, grabbing his pal at the wrist and twisting until his chest was pressed into Steve’s back. It was as fluid as the ballet you had forced them to attend a few months back, quick and clean movements, executed flawlessly. Bucky felt Steve spin in his grasp, planting his feet, preparing to toss the Winter Soldier on his ass. His counter maneuver was a leg sweep, one Bucky was ready to use, when Steve went limp in his grip. Natasha had sucker punched her mission partner in order to get his attention, “Steve. You gotta relax. Bucky didn’t know and you’re drawing attention. Too many eyes around here, ya know?” Natasha waved to Tony, a gesture that said, no worries, everything is ok over here. It was enough to satisfy the playboy, who turned back to his cocktail and conversation with Rhodes. “I'm fine. It's fine. I’m just…” unable to find the right word, spiraling, Steve sagged towards the ground. Catching him at the waist Bucky steadied his woozy friend as Natasha brushed off help from the other guests. Returning to the pair of soldiers out of time, The Black Widow, barely containing her disgust, “Bucky, get him inside. Steve, I'm sending everyone home, then I’m going to make a call.” True to her word, Natasha whispered something to Tony and Pepper, Bucky clocking their reaction of concern for both you and Steve. It was very clear to the Sergeant that The Avengers were not in on this mission. None of them were permitted to hang around the farm house with Nat going so far as to walk out with Clint and Rhodes. Bustling Steve into the kitchen, Bucky kicked a chair free from the table, dropping his buddy on his ass. Still a little amped up from the almost altercation outside, Bucky decided to put a bit of distance between him and his childhood friend, resting his hip against the counter, "What the hell was that, Steve?" "Stay out of it, Bucky." "It's too late for that, punk. Either you start talking or we take this back outside." Side eyeing the super soldier with a metal arm, Steve tugged at the corner of a pretty place mat sullenly, "Fuck you." "Language!" "You think I give a shit about bad words? Now? No… things are too far gone." Waving his hand, begging for more, "Care to elaborate, Cap?" Steve had a second to consider his options. He could let Bucky in, tell him what was going on, hear his opinions on the situation at hand. Or… not. "You don't need to be involved. Once Nat gets back, it's best if you go." Thunking into the opposite seat, Bucky leveled his grey gaze on his pal, "And if I say no?" "Look, it's an off the record thing. Tony, the rest of them? They know nothing. I don’t need you sticking your nose in-" That was all it took for the dam of Bucky’s own outrage to burst. With a wood rattling slap to the custom built dining table, open palm connecting enough to make Steve jump, "Damn it, Rogers! My nose is in this already. Hell, you were ready to half kill me over this… over her, not fifteen minutes ago!" Sighing, hard and heavy, Captain America pressed back in the wooden chair. He saw the questions in Bucky's look, the need to unravel this mystery, the desire to find a way out for his friends. And Steve realized that to accept his buddy's help, Bucky would need the full story. The truth hurts and Buck's words stung Steve. Bucky was right and in the end, he reasoned, they might need him to help bring down Loki. After a second of consideration, a rough hand sliding through his blonde locks, "Fine. FUCK! Fine. What do you know?" Crossing his arms over his chest, stern voiced but curious, Bucky started, "Just you and Nat reporting to Fury? Small team." "Small mission. At least, at first." Trying not to give anything away, making Bucky work for it felt good, almost like a return to his life before Loki, before you. Tapping his metallic finger on the table, Bucky resumed his questions, "So, how does Loki figure into this?" Leaning forward, Steve lowered his voice, “Weapons tech. Power. More than when he attacked New York. He’s been off world gaining followers, an army, and a throne.” “So the plan was to keep Loki away, right?” Nodding, Steve’s inflection solemn, “By any means necessary.” Rocking his head back, as if slapped, Bucky’s eyes widened. Just the implication of those words, by any means necessary, used by Nick Fury meant that this mission was crossing a line from mundane into murderous. "And she was your way in." It started to take shape, the whole sorted plan, Natasha’s involvement and Steve’s role in it all. Bucky felt that prickly sensation again. Bowing his golden head, Steve shook it yes, "Only… I wasn't brought in… I… volunteered." "Ok, but why?" Inching closer to the truth, waiting out the Captain, Bucky nodded for him to continue. When Steve wasn't forthcoming, Bucky nudged his foot with a sharp kick, eager to accelerate the story. For a second that frantic, frenzied energy flashed through the room again, pulling on Bucky's sixth sense, "Because I wanted what Loki had… who Loki had. I wanted her, so bad Bucky. So bad." “Steve… come on, man. There are other girls out there-” Cutting his friend off with a shout, “Why should that asshole have her? He doesn’t deserve her. Before he left, she was always so sweet, so cute… then he… abandoned her! Left her! Man, that was… just so hard to see.” “Yea… I know. I mean, I remember when she and Loki were together. And I know his leaving was hard on her.” “Hard on her? She… she stopped eating, stopped sleeping. God, I could hear her crying all night. Know how hard it was to keep away? To know that Loki had forgotten her?” Steve kept talking, about you, about loving you, and the lengths he went to in an effort to court you. He followed up with all the ways you denied him, over and over, until Natasha intervened. That all of it played into Fury’s plan was a convenient cross-point, coincidence, until things had gone wrong this afternoon. Bucky let him tell his story, knowing full well it was merely a version, a fairy tale wrapped around the rotten apple of truth. In Steve’s world he was the hero, wronged by fate, Fury and Loki Odinson. His path had been paved with good intentions and pure hearted motives. It was everyone else who misunderstood, miscalculated and mistook his actions. Could Steve be blamed for that? Of course, this edition of Steve’s tale didn't include beating up a cuffed prisoner. It also omitted the fact that Steve had been pursuing you while actively lying about Loki's whereabouts. Glossing over the details allowed Steve to paint a picture highlighting the best of him, but Bucky had known the little punk a long time. During a long pause that found Steve with his head in his hands, Bucky took a deep breath and asked, “And how did you and Fury know what Loki was up to?” “He was sending mission reports weekly. Loki had been tasked with helping promote peace across the Nine Realms. That he gained so much was the tipping point. Fury felt like a return to Earth would be 2012 all over again, only this time… total annihilation.” Something was still nagging at Bucky, “Had Loki made any threats?” A guilty look passed over the face of Captain America and his normally solid voice wavered, “Not that I was told about.” “So, Fury...?” “Fury needed… no, that’s not right. He wanted to keep close tabs on Loki, monitor his return, his mood, his movements, if he ever came back.” “And since she was his lover, she was a potential point of contact… the entry point?” “A possible one.” “If you were dating her and Nat was posing as her friend, then you’d know if Loki reached out, spilling the details on his plans, and be able to head him off at the pass.” “Exactly!” Oddly proud, Steve was almost happy that he no longer carried the burden by himself. Sure, Natasha knew, had even engineered some of it, but having a friend on his side made Steve feel better. “But Loki didn’t do that? He surprised you today?” Blowing out a frustrated snort, “Natasha went to meet him at the base. Apparently, the high and mighty Prince expected to be greeted by Fury and his forgotten lover.” “That didn’t sit well with the God of Mischief?” “Nope. Somehow he froze Nat. Confined her, I don’t know… Anyway, he came here and…” Trailing off, Steve could still picture his lady’s body, your body bent under his own, your eyes pressed shut in ecstasy. How you ground against what looked like his own sculpted skin, moaning through an orgasm that appeared amazing, and left you with shaky legs. Going silent, Bucky didn’t push, not this time, but he did feel the moment Steve surrendered fully. His shoulders let go with a deep inhale, his voice sounding like that scrawny kid from Brooklyn after a bad scrape, "She loves him, man. And I fucked up. Loki’s got my girl and I don't have any way to find her or fight him." Tears? Sighs? This wasn't Steve. No, Captain America was an unstoppable, unflappable hero. Spinning out was Bucky's move, not Steve’s. Putting his fleshy hand on Steve’s shoulder, trying to console the broken man in front of him, "Come on, kid. There's always a way to win. It's what you and I have been doing for over a century." “Not this time, man.” "Why not? Did you come clean? That’s why she left, isn’t it? You told her what was going on and she went after Loki." Shame filled Steve’s heart, his cheeks burning, "I… I didn’t get the chance. She left here, but not alone." "She'll be back." Words, pathetic platitudes, were all Bucky could offer. He had seen you tonight, skittish and jumpy. He saw Steve’s reaction to your disappearance, angry and hurt. Bucky thought that a snowball in hell stood a better chance than you're returning. "Not happening. I lost it on her, Buck. Smashed up mom's dresser, yelled… It was like being outside myself, watching myself do and say these terrible things. And it wasn't her fault. Not really. I mean, yea, she fucked him but he was me, so-" "Whoa. Stop. Say that again?" Steeling himself to relieve this afternoon’s nightmare again, Steve swallowed hard, "Loki, you know how he can… shape shift? Well, he came here as me and I walked in on myself screwing my girl!" Bucky's eyebrows lifted, his full lips curling into a cockeyed grin, "Wait. You're telling me that you came home and saw yourself banging your future fiancé?" Pausing, catching Bucky barely holding back a smirk, "Yea… why?" And for some reason, after all the incredible things Steve had shared tonight, it was the idea of Steve catching himself balls deep in your naughty bits that made Bucky laugh. Once he started, Bucky couldn't control the mad giggles from overtaking him, much to Steve’s astonishment. But then Steve laughed, too, "I guess it is pretty funny, when you think about it." "I mean, your face must have been priceless!" Clutching his stomach as the laughter grew stronger, Bucky had tears running down his cheeks at the image Steve described. Sure, it was a horrible thing, but who could say that they watched themselves having sex like that without being in porno? It took them both a minute to calm down, with Steve settling enough to counter, "Shit, Buck! I was pissed! I probably looked crazy." "That I do believe. What did you say to her? Them?" Now his face flushed scarlet, burning with embarrassment. The lie was just easier to get out, "Um… I don't really remember. I know I surprised Loki and well, my girl fainted from being used by him. The shock of it not being me, ya know?" Bucky didn't buy it, but he let his friend sell the story anyway, "Must have been scary for her. And that's when you secured Loki in the locked shed? And set Nat as your watchdog?" "Yup." Unable to meet his friend’s stormy stare, knowing that it would undo him completely, Steve focused on the edge of the table, running his fingers back and forth along the rough wood. If this were an interrogation and Bucky were sitting across from a suspect and not his best friend, he’d have no problem beating the guilty man into submission. But Steve was his strongest connection to this world, this time, and it was hard to walk away from family, even if they didn’t deserve the benefit of your doubt. To that end, one thing still bothered Bucky, "Why not cancel the party, man?" "Because I still want to marry her." Pulling the small black box from his front pocket, Steve toyed with the thing, his vision of a future with you still so close to realized. Whistling at the size of the sparkly rock enshrined in white gold, "Fancy. What do you think your chances are? Think she'll say yes?" "My chances went down to zero the second Loki dropped down to Earth. As for her answer… Dunno. I… I hope so, but now…", Steve faded off, knowing there was little hope for your romantic reunion if he didn’t have a clear idea of where you were at the moment. "Now Loki’s back." "Right." “And they’re gone, together.” “Right.” “And Fury’s on his way.” Striding in on impossibly high heels, Natasha folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the two gossiping men in front of her. It was going to be a long night. --- Somehow you had made it to the treeline undetected, using the orchard as a shield, ducking behind trunks as you and Loki scrambled toward the edge of the property. You couldn't help looking over your shoulder, checking for pursuit, worrying that Steve or Natasha were going to find the pair of you. There was no possible way they would let you get away, not after today, not with Loki. It was a bit treacherous, though. There was only natural light to guide you through twisted branches and raised roots, so your progress was slower than you wanted, but Loki was with you. Even beaten and bruised, he radiated calm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. Something about that made this whole situation seem better, manageable. You were no longer alone, Loki was here, holding your hand, not directing you but consulting. "Pet… the roadway is up ahead. Stay here, tucked out of sight." Pulling your long lost lover close, a small kiss passed between you, a passionate promise to sit still. Stepping tentatively out onto the gravel filled shoulder, Loki surveyed the highway quickly. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, Loki waved at you, motioning you forward. Striding confidently at your side, Loki stopped in the dead center of the yellow lines, his grounding arm around your waist. A car, low, black, expensive, came racing round the bend, barreling towards you. Tucking your chin to Loki's chest, you gripped him tight, readying for the car's impact. A roar of wind swirled around you, grabbing at your skirt, whipping around your legs. For a second you thought you'd been struck. Breathless, your lungs emptied. There was nothing solid under you, just the feeling of Loki and a current of warm air. Next, you felt the impact of hard earth under your feet, vibrating through your shins, then Loki's grip loosening a touch, "Ok, darling?" Peeking from under his arm you saw lights everywhere. A bar was to your left, filled with noisy drinkers, barely discernible from the traffic around you. Honking horns made you jump, "Where the hell are we?" "Cleveland. I can't yet take us off world. I'm still a bit weak, I'm afraid… but at least we have a bit of a head start on Rogers and Fury." People pushed past you on their way to dinner, chirping happily, not seeing you in their tunnel vision. Being anonymous was a nice change, welcome even, as your personal life had been lost to Steve's intergalactic presence. On the busy streets of Ohio no one took notice of the two well dressed people standing on the damp sidewalk. "Um, you changed?", no longer sporting his battle gear, Loki was dapper in a black suit with an ebony tie. Leaning closer you straightened it, not because it was crooked, but because you needed to feel it… him. The whole look was just shy of too much, but that was the space Loki filled best and honestly, looking at him made your heart swell. Loki was back, and yours. After more than two years, having him close again felt natural, easy. In so many ways, the opposite of your life with Steve. As if somehow sensing your tug into nostalgia, Loki knuckled your chin up, "Just keeping up with you, love." His nose brushed against your own, so weirdly intimate and innocent for a man who had slapped your ass red only hours ago. Resting his forehead to yours, you inhaled that magical combination of burning sparklers, broken in leather with just a hint of honeyed citrus, "God, I forgot how great you smell." "Hmm… dove, there is nothing on Asgard that smells or tastes as wonderful as you. Believe me. I looked." "Careful Loki… people will say we're in love." At your cheekiness, Loki claimed your lips, his hands sliding over the soft fabric of your dress. Clinging to him, unwilling to let go now that he had returned, you puffed out a pouty sigh as Loki withdrew. “Norns. You know how badly I want you again? I can barely think straight for wanting you.” Oblivious to everything around you, lost in the sweeping pools of Loki’s desire filled expression, you toyed with his collar, “We have a lot of catching up to do, for sure.” “I’d love to get reacquainted-” here he paused to lick over his full lower lip, hunger for you dripping from every word, “-but we are on the run from the Earth’s mightiest heroes.” Snickering, you rolled your eyes at the thought of the Avengers, hours away eating charcuterie in Steve’s backyard. Stepping back, you sighed, “You’re right. So, have you got a plan?” Hanging in the air, your sentence had just left your mouth, your tongue still savoring the syllables when a sizzling crack snapped next to your ear. Swinging you away, forcing you to the sidewalk, Loki spun in a blaze of green. Crouched over you, snarling, “Fury! Always a pleasure to see you.” Stepping from the blazing golden circle supplied by Dr. Strange, Fury crossed onto the Cleveland sidewalk from your now empty garden party, weapon trained on Loki’s broad chest. “Wish I could say the same, Loki. You know it’s time to end this. Let’s take our… deliberations back to the office. Talk about this man to man.” A barking laugh left your lover, “Man to man? I am a GOD! And you… you are pathetic. Your attempts to keep me off Earth, imprisoned, away from my woman have all failed.” “Where are you going to go? You can’t get off the planet without help. My help. And it’s yours, Loki, if-” “If I come quietly? Tail between my legs, submissive and compliant?” As the words left his mouth, you watched, focused on the way Loki was shifting closer to you. The long fingers of his right hand were visible, reaching back for you, a silent signal of his escape plan. Fed up and furious, Nick Fury’s voice was flat with frustration, “Loki. Enough. Let’s do this somewhere people aren’t.” “Oh, I don’t know, this seems as good a place as any!” Circling Loki, edging nearer, Fury tried reasoning, “Endangering civilians isn’t going to make things easier. You know that.” “You know, I’d love to talk about how you betrayed me. How you stonewalled my lady… how you put Captain America in my place, as if he could ever be worthy of her. But, I’m a little busy at the moment.” Snapping his fingers, you jumped to your feet, grabbing for Loki’s outstretched hand. The second your palm connected that feeling of floating overcame you once more. This time you were ready for the roar of traveling through space by Loki’s magic, the push of meeting the ground, the curl of Loki’s body against yours. Blinking, you opened your eyes on new scenery, the chill of a beautiful sea soaked morning breaking around you. Straightening the coat of his pristine suit, Loki smiled at you as his fingers wove between your own, “New Asgard. My brother’s realm, now ruled by Valkyrie, by his abdication. We need to find him. He has a lot to answer for.” --- "Just what in the hell happened? I thought I was very clear about avoiding this exact problem." Pacing, hands firmly on his leather belted waist, Nick Fury growled at the bent head of Steve Rogers. "Now Loki’s on the run, dragging your… Well, what is she exactly Captain? Girlfriend? Fiancé? Mark? along for the ride." At those harsh words, Steve started, ready to focus his own anguish somewhere, anywhere. Fury was as good a target as any, as far as Steve was concerned. Pushing off the paving stones, he was stalled from rising by Natasha's firm hand and quiet words, "We have an idea-" "I don't want ideas. Not from you two. What I want are answers, Romanoff, and I want them now." Sitting on the emptied bench of the picnic table, still covered with your pretty tablecloth and jars of peonies, Natasha sighed, "I didn't have time to alert Steve. Loki made it here first and… reconnected-" "Is that what we're calling it?" Snapping, Nick glared from his good eye, his last name never more appropriate. Exhaling deeply, Natasha Romanoff squared her shoulders, "Sir, Loki… manipulated the circumstances." "Just what in the hell does that mean?" All three available eyes locked onto Steve, “What it means, Fury-” lifting his golden head with a jaw clenched tight, “- what it means, is that the son of a bitch showed up here and had his way with my woman. “After Loki… took advantage of her, I had him. He was contained, here, in my shed. It was modified with the restraints Tony provided with Thor’s direction.” “And still, he got away?” Disbelief clouded every syllable from Fury. That his two top agents had failed and so badly, had the normally stoic director steaming. Standing now, Steve was almost chest to chest with the man who’d been pulling the strings of this entire operation. Natasha, watching closely, knowing that she would only be able to subdue one of them if it came to it, gently palmed the dagger concealed in her waist band. Steve thrust forward, brushing past Fury before facing him once more, “Yea, Nick. He did. He got away.” “Do you know how?” Fury’s fingers were curled around his pocket taser, just in case Captain America needed a jolt, reminding him of who was calling the shots here. It wouldn’t do much except give Nick a head start, but with the Captain looking so rough and so raw, the SHIELD director would take any advantage available. “We believe that… he was set free.” Natasha didn’t want to say the words. You had let Loki go, that much she knew to be true, and she supposed that it made some sort of sense. Steve had been right all along. You and Loki did have some cosmic connection that even time and distance couldn’t eliminate. Intervening for the sake of Fury’s mission and Steve’s pining heart, Natasha had no qualms about why she’d guided you into a relationship, in fact, she still believed that he was a better man for you than Loki. But no. No matter what Rogers did, you had never let go with him like you had with the younger son of Odin. Not that you complained. You had taken all of Natasha’s words of praise, her seemingly well intentioned advice, her flat out advocating for Steve in stride. Sure, your friendship suffered for it. Natasha, never having been one for close ties to anyone, had enjoyed the talking and gossiping. It was nice to have a girl around the tower. One who understood period cramps and cravings. A person who would put on high heels and makeup for a night of dancing then suggest hoodies and shorts for watching Pride and Prejudice. That was over now. When she had been, well, frankly, overpowered by Loki and his new paralyzing weaponry, Natasha knew the plan for a peaceful capture of the prince was over. Having seen the aftermath of your reunion with the space god, having seen Steve’s seething anger, the Black Widow felt her own ire spike. Didn’t you know how hard she had worked? How tireless her efforts had been to keep you and Loki apart? Just how invested she was in joining you and Steve together? It was like you wanted to throw all of that away, squandering those bonding moments where you had become something more than a mission, those times when you were Natasha’s only real friend. Couldn’t you just go along with the plan, unknowing, quietly? She knew you couldn’t, wouldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. So, channeling that frustration into the cold facade that so many had seen just before they met their end, Natasha had to compartmentalize the “you” she cared about away from the “you” she was responsible for trailing. Both had pissed her off. Now, hearing the gruff grumble of Director Fury bearing down on her, Natasha could only accept the berating tone of his hard words. He wasn’t wrong. She and Steve had fucked up royally, the whole mission was blown, and while Bucky had certainly aided in your escape, he was blameless collateral damage. The consequences fell to you and the Captain. Killing you was going to be hard for them both, but if it had to be done, so be it. Shrugging, Natasha started again, “Nick, we have a tracker on her. We know that she and Loki made it to Cleveland, but he can’t get away from Earth without some aid.” “Well, that’s good to know, if only it was some new intelligence. You’re tracking her? Great! Where is she now? Don't know huh? Well, she and Loki tele-ported from a city sidewalk, in front of me and hundreds of civilians, with no word on their next destination. “And make no mistake. Loki will find a way off of this planet and when that happens, there’ll be nothing else we can do.” “So what? Let him go! He’s won, Nick. It’s over.” Throwing himself down onto the bench, Steve’s dejected voice breaking, he slumped over his feet. “That’s not an option Cap. Loki is more powerful now than he’s ever been. You both read the reports. He wasn’t just hanging around on Asgard. No, Loki was negotiating peace between his native realm of Jotunheim and his adoptive home. He was gifted with tools and technology that no human could hope to wield. Earth ending stuff, Captain.” “Whatever plans you had of making peace are over now. There’s no way Loki gives us any help… and why would he after all this?” “Rogers, I’ll do whatever I must to keep this planet and the creatures on it safe. Loki is a threat to that, just by existing. With his new powers, high placed connections and intergalactic royal title, he had the potential to be unstoppable.” Seething breath puffed out the chests of the two men standing toe to toe. Machismo made Natasha want to vomit. Men. “Look, I’ll go after them. Steve, stay here, in case she reaches out. I’ll take the quinjet and trace their path.” Standing now herself, Natasha turned to the depressed super soldier, patting his arm, “Bucky’s still here. I’ll let you know when I’ve found anything.” “No. Nat, I can’t let you go alone. It’s my fault, too.” “You’re no good to me like this, Rogers.” “But, She’s-” Cutting him off, Natasha stepped closer to Nick, “I know, but you’re too involved. If tough choices need to be made, can you?” Gulping hard, passing a rough hand over his face, Steve frowned, “I can do my duty, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Steve.” Her tone said it all the words she wouldn't vocalize. I don’t trust you, not now, not like this. I don’t believe you will have my back at the cost of the woman you claim to love. I don’t think you can do the job. Fury didn't allow her the chance to elaborate, jumping in with his definitive voice, “Natasha’s right, Rogers. You’re staying right where you are, on the bench. Romanoff and I are going to resolve this issue without any further problems.” Half hearted, strength sapped, Steve raised his eyes to the leather clad figures before him, “Please. Please, Nick… Nat. Don’t hurt her.” “I promise, Steve. I won’t.” And in the second, all three knew she was lying.

--- Finding Thor’s shanty was easier than you expected. A friendly fisherman was only too happy to point you in the right direction. What you saw upon arrival was not entirely what you had expected when visiting Loki’s brother. It was a beat up looking cottage, surrounded by empty cases of cheap Midgardian beer, crumpled take out containers, and a collection of well fed seagulls situated near the edge of the village, “Ugh. What a pig.” “Loki! It’s… charming?” Your admonishing whisper turned the statement into a question at the sight of Loki’s disgusted face. For a second you just stood at Loki’s side, staring at the weather beaten front door, your hand clasped in his strong one. “It’s disgusting.” Agreeing with a small nod, “Um, yes. Yes, it is. But, this is your brother’s house and you said we needed to talk to him. Step one is ringing his bell.” “No. I won’t do it.” You had forgotten about this side of Loki. Fastidious, precise and obstinate, Loki could cop an attitude that had the ability to drive someone crazy. Someone like you. Over the last two years it had been easy to forget all the little things that made Loki prickly. It was even easier to forgive him. Since he’d left, you had looked at your life together through rose glasses, through a gentle fog of missing him, and those elements of your relationship that were less than perfect had been abandoned. Now, standing outside the hovel that Thor called a home, as a fresh day dawned over New Asgard, you were reminded of all those imperfect things that came with loving Loki. A wave of need, love, and longing for him rolled over you. All of those imperfections made you perfect for each other. Rising up on your toes you pressed a small kiss to Loki’s pout, taking the tall God by surprise, “What was that for?” Shyly grinning, you bit into your bottom lip, “I missed you… missed kissing you.” “Then perhaps you should come over here again?” That was all the invitation you needed. Stepping into Loki’s space, your chest resting against his own, you savored the nearness of him, as himself. He wasn’t playing at being Steve. Loki was here, he was with you, and if you weren’t mistaken his hands were drifting down your backside. The rush of it, well, it was familiar and new at the same time. How Loki seemed to inhale your breath, inhale you, as his mouth opened to accept your lips. His gentle exhale, a moan, as his tongue licked over your own. It was overwhelming. It was wonderful. Stepping back, you started to pull away, only for Loki to wrap his arms around your waist, “Not so fast, darling.” Losing yourself, you focused solely on the firmness of his body, the weight of his hands on your hips, the intensity of Loki’s desire. Intoxicating, heady, you leaned into those feelings. Kissing Loki back, you tangled his hair in your hand, earning another one of those sultry sounds that made your legs weak. How had you lived without the passion and pleasure he provided for so long? A smashing crash broke the quiet morning causing you to jump in Loki’s embrace, “What the hell was that?” Immediately on the defense, Loki pushed you behind him, crouching into a protective stance. From over his broad shoulder you watched, worried about the new danger coming your way, unsure how to help your reactive lover. Another rattle had Loki palming his dagger, anticipating an attack. That’s when a raccoon, bigger than your childhood terrier, scuttled from under an overturned trash can carrying what looked like a half eaten slice of pizza in its mouth. “Appalling! Mother would be modified!” Loki cursed as he offered you his hand, kicking away an empty glass bottle, "Why is he living like a dirty animal, surrounded by trash? One would think they were back on Sakaar!" “I don’t know what’s going on with Thor, but we came here for a reason. Let’s get it over with, ok?” Loki shook his head, refusing to step any closer, “He’ll have to come out here. I won’t go inside this… dilapidated shit box.” Sighing, “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it.” Stepping around a pile of broken electronics, you carefully picked your way to the front door, gracefully knocking on the splintering wood. After an answerless few seconds, you tried again, rapping lightly with your knuckles before turning to flash Loki a small smile. That’s when you noticed the striking woman striding towards you and your returned lover. “My, my… is that pretty Prince Loki I see?” Even her voice was sexy, you thought, as the sarcastic words dripped from her full lips. The swaggering stranger radiated cool, calm, sensual energy. Otherworldly energy that made you feel mortal and boring. You couldn’t help tugging your skirt straight and fluffing your hair as she got closer. “Ah… Valkyrie! How are you?” Hugging her tightly when she opened her arms, Loki found that he was genuinely happy to see the fierce, battle tested warrior. Smirking at your man, she countered, “That’s King Valkyrie to you. Your brother crowned me, or have you forgotten?” “On the contrary. It seems like he finally realized what I’ve known all our lives.” “Which is what, exactly?” “He’s not fit to be the ruler of Asgard, obviously.” Drawing right up to Loki, hands on her hips, Valkyrie leveled her dark eyes at his, “What would you know about ruling, Mischief?” “Enough to know that you’re good at it. Enough to know that I no longer want to be the King of Asgard.” “Is that so? And what’s changed your mind?” At those skeptical words, Loki wound an arm around your waist, tugging you close, “I’ve got more… important concerns these days.” Looking you over with her shrewd, searching gaze, but speaking to Loki, “And she likes you? Are you sure?” Laughing, the sound deep and rich, “As much as you like fighting and drinking.” “I hardly drink anymore. As King I have mead only on important occasions, I have to keep my wits about me the rest of the time.” Sharing a laugh, the two shared another small hug before Valkyrie turned to you directly, “Alright. Who’s this then?” Loki started to respond but you cut him off, extending a hard towards the newly crowned King of Asgard, “Uh, I can answer for myself, thank you, Loki. Valkyrie is it? Nice to meet you. And, yes, I love Loki.” Making a face that was part disgust, part pride, Valkyrie smirked, “Love? Oh no. Hasn’t anyone told you yet? Loving the Odinson boys is hard on a girl.” Pulling Loki in for a small kiss, taking him by surprise, “I’ll take my chances.” Shrugging nonchalantly, “Suit yourself.” Focusing on Loki once more, Valkyrie shifted on her feet, “Listen, if you’re looking for Thor, he’s not here.” “Oh? And where exactly is the lovable oaf?” Hitching a thumb over her shoulder, pointing up the hill, “At the palace… the new palace, that is. You can come and, please, don’t forget your girlfriend.” Falling in line behind the King, Loki couldn’t help but add, “You know Val, I think I liked you better when you were drunk.” Snorting in response, “And I know I liked you better when I was drunk, weird right?” Bringing up the rear, your own sarcastic comment dying on your throat when the Palace of New Asgard came into view. Banners of gold shimmered in the light of the rising sun, flapping in the breeze of the young morning, beckoning you closer. You hugged Loki’s arm tighter, excited and exhilarated by the sight before you. “Home is a people, not a place. Those were some of my father’s last words to Thor and I… and while I can never take you to the place where I grew up, this… this is the home of my people.” “Loki… it’s beautiful!” Valkyrie, stopping so you could both catch up, “It’s getting there. Thor’s been a huge help. Come on, let's show you around the palace and let your brother know you’re here.” ---To Be Continued!

My minxes: @sammy-jo1977 @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki multipart #MCU fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes #valkyrie #thor

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taerseok · 4 years

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hi | 01 | survival bts!

♡ synopsis:. when 7 immature players gather together to play one of the most famous games the world has seen to-date; Minecraft, and a stranger joins their survival world out of nowhere, there really is nothing that could go wrong, right? Right?

♡ pairing:. ot7 × reader

♡ word count:. 1.2k

♡ genres / rating:. crack, fluff, non-idol!au, reverse harem / pg-15

♡ trigger warnings:. ot7 are a bunch of kids pretending to be professional, sexual jokes (mainly from jimin) here and there, chaos ensues, none of them know how to play minecraft except for JK, ot7 disrespect eachother a lot, homies being homies, taehyung is obsessed with yeontan in this one but i mean i can't blame him

⚠️ masterpost ⚠️

♡ author notes:

▪ @bangtan-dreamland asked; "YO WADDUP IT'S ME AGAIN >:) since you're still part of the game >:) gib ot7 + vodka please >:) you know you want to do it >:)"

well. here you go T^T i made a whole lil series because of you- happy?

▪ thank youu to @mindays for the banner and dividers TwT (still cannot get over how pretty they are arGh)

part of @bangtan-dreamland's drabble game. request here~

Generating world…

[Don't kill dolphins, you monster!]

World loaded!

Steve joined the game

"OMG we're twins," one Steve exclaims. "Is it really twins if there's seven of you and you're playing a game?"

"Of course- we all have the same brain, we're twins-"

"That's not how it works!" another one speaks up. "Leave the game and change the usernames."

"And what if I want to stay as Steve-"

"I said leave the game and change your usernames!"

Steve left the game

"You leave first," he says stubbornly. "No, you."

"No, you!"

"I said- you!"

Steve left the game

"Finally."

Steve left the game

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Generating world…

[Ocelots show creepers who's boss!]

World loaded!

GoldenJK joined the game

Eatjin joined the game

Baby_mochi joined the game

Namjesus joined the game

MinSuga joined the game

Goodboy95 joined the game

Hopesbalenciaga joined the game

It was the plains where they spawned. In the distance, the seven players could see a forest of oak and birch wood. They'd need that wood very soon.

"So how do you move?" asks Namjoon. "W, A, S, D to move, space to jump, press 'control' to sprint, 'shift' to crouch-"

"You can crouch?" Jimin interrupts Jungkook. Guessing by the way he was holding down shift at the moment, he couldn't be more surprised at the discovery. "Yeah, you can crouch," Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes. "Anyway-"

"Can you eat this dirt?" Jimin interrupts again. "What?"

"Can you eat dirt?"

He was looking at the ground below him as he spoke. Did he even know how to break the block? "Why would you eat dirt?" the maknae frowns. "Once I ate dirt when I was at the playground..." Jimin reminiscences. "Ooooh!" Taehyung jumps around from excitement, almost falling down into a nearby hole- which, guessing by the depth, was a cave, Jungkook noted. "How did it taste?"

"It was very good!"

"Right," Yoongi mutters, letting out an exasperated sigh. "It's daytime right now, we should probably start with-"

"Ooooh a sheep!"

"Jimin, will you stop interrupting me for once!?"

"Sorry," he crouches back down, facing the ground. "Alright," Jungkook takes a deep breath before starting again. "All of you have never played this game before, yes?" six heads shake left to right in response. "We need to collect wood first. Mobs spawn at night and they can kill you so we should gear up as soon as possible too."

"Do we need food?"

"We do need food. Can you work on killing the sheeps, Jin-hyung?"

"With my hand?"

Jungkook sighs. "Yes, with your hand. Get wool too. We'll need it for beds."

"I'm on it!" With that, Seokjin could be seen walking away towards the nearby herd of sheeps, his pace irregular. There came a moment he was sprinting, and then another when he was jumping as he walked. Which escalated- or rather, slowed down into crouching and jumping. Jungkook could only watch.

"Namjoon-hyung, can you please go help Jin-hyung?"

And with that, there were two people on the sheep-killing job. The maknae could only hope that they'd be able to sleep tonight. The first nights were always the-

"Can you sleep in one bed with someone else?" Jimin asks. "You can have a double bed, you can't sleep in a single bed with another-"

"What's the fun in that?"

Jungkook tried to feign ignorance. "You're on the tree-cutting team with Hobi-hyung."

"Why are we cutting poor trees?" Hoseok speaks up. "Can't we just leave them be?"

"If you want to get killed by the mobs, yeah, sure!" Jungkook says hotly. "I'm going to dig a hole and live in dirt," Jimin remarks, "that way, no trees will be-"

"Can I get a dog?" Taehyung was the one to interrupt this time. "You need bones for that."

"Yeontan will not eat bones, he's too cute to eat bones-"

"You need bones to tame a wolf, Hyung. That's how it works."

"I'm abandoning my plans and helping Jiminie with the dirt hole then." It was at this moment, Jungkook could just barely suppress his anger- which he soon failed at, too. "You'll die if you dig a hole! You need torches so it isn't dark down there so mobs don't spawn and torches are made with sticks so you have to cut-!"

"I'll go cut the trees." Jungkook turned to Yoongi. "Really?" to his surprise, Yoongi nodded. "But who knows how long Yoongi will take to cut trees? What if he falls asleep trying to cut them!?" Hoseok exclaims, and turning to the 95ers, Jungkook notes that they had already begun digging down. So they did know how to break blocks.

"I'm not that irresponsible," Yoongi mumbles. "I'll help with the wood then," Hoseok huffed, and without another word, Jungkook was left alone. Well… this was certainly going to be an interesting day.

While the 95ers are digging a little bunker that, Jungkook muses, they'd have to live in tonight, the clearly-professional-gamer makes sure everyone is being productive.

"Jin-hyung, you don't crouch as you jump! Stop pressing shift!"

"Taehyung keeps hitting me instead of digging the dirt! What do I do!?"

"Hyung, stop bothering Jimin-"

"He keeps jumping in front of me, it isn't my fault!"

"Well let's dig different holes then!"

"Like I ever wanted to dig with you anyway."

Jungkook sighs. He turned to the other side, where Hoseok and Yoongi are getting wood.

"What do you do with saplings?"

"Use them to grow trees, Hoseok, what else would you do, put them in your-"

"Forget the saplings. Just cut down the trees!" The maknae frowns, exhausted already, turning back to the two players incharge of killing sheeps.

"Namjoon-hyung, stop hitting the sheep with a seed, don't you have the sword I passed over to you!?" Namjoon turns to him, the sheep he was chasing after certainly isn't becoming their dinner tonight. Neither is it contributing to crafting beds.

"I think I threw it somewhere in a hole and it looked pretty dark so I got scared."

Deep breath, Jungkook…

Deep breath…

"And the sword which Jin-hyung had?"

"Oh, that, uhm," Namjoon paused. "Well… I took it from him after I lost mine and it may have fallen in the hole too but you need not-"

"OH GOD, WHERE DID THIS PIG COME FROM!? IT'LL EAT ME-"

Jungkook had to think. And fast.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The player, GoldenJK cautiously looks around. Torches, beds, food, a crafting table…

They were set for the first night.

"Can I sleep with one of you, I'm scared of the dark-"

"Jimin, there are torches here."

"Jungkook, there are monsters near."

He sighed, reluctantly giving in. "Fine."

"Can someone turn off the light, I hate to sleep with lights on."

"Can I tape your mouth? I'm trying to sleep here."

"Oooooh, taping mouths now, are we? Maybe next we'll be blindfolding-"

"Yoongi-hyung, don't be mean. Hobi-hyung, go to sleep, it's a game. Jimin-hyung, please stop."

"I mean, I'm just saying, blindfolding is pretty kinky if you ask me, not that I have ever tried it or-"

Y/N joined the game

"Wait. What?"

"Ah- did Yeontan get his paws on a computer again, such a naughty little-"

"It's not Yeontan, hyung!"

"Who could it be? How did they join our world?" Namjoon frowns. "Maybe it's a hacker?" Seokjin suggests, brows furrowing more and more by the second. "Maybe it's my secret admirer."

"Oh shut up, Jimin-"

[Y/N] : hi

"...I know he loves games but- I didn't know Yeontan could type."

#bhq drabbles #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #jungkook fluff #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #yoongi fluff #namjoon fluff #jin fluff #hoseok fluff

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star-spangled-steve · 5 years

Text

His New Partner

Chapter 24: The Last Night Of Freedom

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 3402

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, nudity, Daddy!Kink, Dom!Steve, sub!Reader, dirty talk, cussing, alcohol, implications of female strippers.

A/N: Just so you know, Y/F/N means Your Friend’s Name and Y/C/N means Your Cousin’s Name; both female in this case. Though if you aren’t close with any cousins, you can just imagine another friend. Enjoy this chapter!

“May your bachelorette party be filled with and fun, love, laughter, and most importantly, lots and lots of liquor.” Natasha spoke with a smirk before shouting “To Y/N!” as a closer to her Maid of Honour speech, or what was at least a shorter version. The real one would take place in exactly a week, but instead of being in front of five other ladies, it would be in front of about two hundred wedding guests.

The small circle of women all cheered and clinked their glasses together, repeating “To Y/N!” with huge smiles before tipping their drinks back.

A group of people from a table nearby started to clap, making the bride-to-be blush and give them a small wave after she finished her sip.

Y/F/N turned around to the look at the supportive Las Vegas bar patrons before facing back to Y/N with a smile. “Ooo, N/N. Looks like that one guy over there recognizes you.” She discretely nudged her head towards the handsome brunette who was sitting right across from them. “He’s cute, you should go for it.”

“Dude, I’m getting married in literally a week.” The actress stated, shaking her head at her friend’s silliness.

Maria smirked. “Still, it’s never too late to call it off.”

Y/C/N laughed at the comment, completely knowing that it was a joke. You’d have to be completely blind to not see the pure love between Steve and Y/N. “Ya, then that way I could have the Captain all for myself.”

“Oh please.” Y/N playfully shook her head. “We all know that Natasha would have next dibs.”

The assassin scoffed in response. “Says who?”

The woman of the hour raised her eyebrows. “You, ‘ya big fiancé kisser!”

The table erupted in gasps and giggles.

“Wait, wait, wait, what happened?” Pepper chimed in.

Maria chuckled. “Oh ya, I heard about that!”

“She kissed Steve when they were in Washington like a year ago.” Y/N explained, pretending to be mad when in reality she was completely over it. “He wasn’t technically my fiancé yet, but you still kissed my boyfriend.”

“It was for a mission! The guys could’ve killed us if we were recognized! I did what I had to do to hide our faces.” Natasha stated, throwing an arm up and down in exaggeration. “How did you even find out? Did Steve tell you?”

“Well, duh!” Y/N said with a laugh. “The man apologized to me like five times.”

“But you kiss a ton of actors all the time for your job.” Pepper pointed out with furrowed eyebrows and tilted her head. “Do you apologize?”

The girl in question nodded her head. “At first, for sure. It was pretty hard for him to deal with, and that’s why he felt so guilty doing the same back to me.” She took another sip of her drink, watching Natasha’s expression from over the rim of her glass. The redhead had an uncharacteristically ashamed look on her face. “Relax, Nat.” Y/N spoke after putting her empty glass down on the glossy wood table. “I’m not really upset, I was just kidding.”

Y/F/N grinned. “So... free dibs to kiss Mr. America then?”

“Absolutely not.”

*****

“To Steve!” Sam cheered, urging the other four guests to repeat him, while the one man of the hour just stood there and beamed.

After taking a long sip of his beer, Clint slapped a hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “May your bachelor party be one to remember.”

“Your last night of freedom.” Rhodes added.

Steve shook his head with a smile. “Well, we can’t exactly call it my last night of freedom. The wedding is a whole seven days away.”

“Still,” Tony cocked his head to the side, “the last night where you’re not tied down to the responsibilities of becoming a husband.“

And it was exactly that. Y/N and the wedding planner had reserved the entire upcoming week to set things up for the ceremony, reception, and photoshoot in between.

“Come on,” Thor, who came back to Earth specifically for these festivities, let out a deep chuckle, “you can tell by the look in this man’s eyes that he truly loves all the weddingly duties.”

Sam nodded. “We all know that Cap would rather be snuggled under the covers with Y/N somewhere than be here with us.”

Steve gave them one of his half grins. “Regardless of what I’d rather or be doing right now,-”

“Or who you’d rather be doing.” Tony interrupted, making the circle of men laugh and the groom-to-be roll his eyes.

“Anyways, I really do appreciate you guys bringing me here.” Steve stated, glancing around their private room at one of Las Vegas’ fanciest bars. It was something that only the big names of the Avengers could book, and the big wallet of Tony Stark could afford.

“The evening’s only beginning though, right, Stark?” Clint waggled his eyebrows up and down with a cheesy smirk.

“Most definitely.” Tony snickered before checking the time on his very expensive watch, seeing that it was now 9:56 at night. “And in a little less than five minutes, the show will finally start.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “What show? I thought we were just going to go back down and gamble some more.”

In order to avoid the man’s eyes, Sam and Tony glanced at their shoes as Clint took a sip of his drink in hopes to hide his smile. Rhodes started to chuckle a little bit, meanwhile Thor was just as confused as the super soldier.

“What did you guys plan?” Steve questioned, suddenly bringing out his special Captain America voice that was only reserved for missions; sometimes the bedroom.

Stark just shrugged mischievously.

“Tony, guys, I swear to Go-”

Roger’s words were interrupted by the sound of squealing women, high heels thumping down the hallway, and a big speaker that was playing some new sensual pop song that he had never heard before.

“You didn’t.” Steve ground his teeth in frustration, eyeing each of his friends. “Whose idea was this?”

Sam sheepishly raised his hand. “It’s my duty as Best Man to give you the best night ever!”

“I thought that we had discuss-”

The double doors suddenly burst open, revealing a large clan of attractive women wearing very, very little clothing. “Oh, Captain!” They called before skipping into the room and circling around the seemingly uncomfortable man.

Steve just sighed as he glanced around the approximately ten pretty faces surrounding him, eyes not daring to stray any lower than their chins. “Oh boy.”

*****

The music of the bar club just seemed to get louder and louder, clouding all of her senses as she took another sip of what was probably her third drink of the evening. Y/N wasn’t exactly drunk yet, but tipsy enough to not really care that she’d been sitting alone for the last half an hour.

Las Vegas was pretty fancy, the girl would have to give it that. The bars were lined with more liquor bottles than she could count, not a finger smudge on any of them, and she was pretty sure that her hotel room was at least 50% marble.

But of course, that could’ve just been Tony’s miraculous planning skills; or Tony’s miraculous stack of money. Y/N couldn’t even imagine what it would cost to bring all twelve people in the wedding party to Las Vegas for the weekend, let alone stay in the two nicest casino hotels in the area.

Yes, two. One for the men, one for the women. Sam and Natasha took great responsibility in their Best Man and Maid of Honour roles, deciding to have the two groups bunk separately, almost ten blocks apart. It was Steve and Y/N’s bachelor and bachelorette parties after all, one of their last nights being two singles. Everyone wanted the pair to spend it to its full extent.

Vibrations coming from her clutch broke Y/N out of her slightly tipsy haze, making the girl take out her cellphone and instantly smile when she saw that it was Steve calling her. “Hello?” She spoke after answering it.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The man said from the other end.

“Honey.” She greeted as she sat up straighter on her barstool, becoming excited at the sound of his voice, “What’s up?”

“Just miss you, that’s all.”

Y/N beamed. They had only been apart for half of a day, and he had already wanted to see her. “I miss you too, Stevie. You having fun?”

“Uh,” the Captain puffed out a breath, “ya, ya, tons of fun. T-Tame fun, nothing too crazy.” He told her, trying to hide the fact that there had just been plenty of almost-naked women dancing around him. “What about you?”

“Well,” Y/N looked around the noisy bar that she was in, still seeing none of her friends around, “it’s been okay.”

“Only okay?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it started out great.” She explained. “But, uh, everyone ‘sorta went off to do their own thing.”

“They ditched you?” Steve sternly asked, mad at the fact that Y/N was all by herself in the busy city of Las Vegas.

“No!” She shook her head back and forth, even though he couldn’t actually see her. “Pepper and Y/C/N we’re doing so well in the casino that I just let them keep going, last time I saw Nat and Maria they were playing pool, and Y/F/N went off somewhere to hook up with this random guy.”

“Awe, doll. I’m so sorry.” Steve comforted.

Y/N gloomily tapped her nails against the sleek wood bar top, her other hand still holding the phone to her ear. “It’s alright. You know that these clubs and all aren’t exactly my scene anyways.”

“Here,” the man spoke up, coming upon a realization, “I have an idea. Why don’t you go down to the lobby, and I’ll meet you there?”

“You ‘wanna come over here?”

Steve answered like it was obvious. “Of course.”

Y/N was confused. “But hon, it’s your bachelor party. The whole point of the night is to be away from each other. I don’t ‘wanna ruin your fun.”

He shook his head at her words, telling even from blocks away that there was a sheepish look painted on her face. “You honestly think that you’d be ruining my fun? Baby, you are my fun.” Steve looked around the room that he was in, making sure all of his friends seemed alright on their own. “Just meet me down there, N/N. Then we can go up to your room, and I’ll give you the best bachelorette party that you could ever ask for. That’s a promise.”

*****

Y/N fumbled with her hotel room key card as she struggled to unlock her door, getting the red light instead of the green light every time. Though to her defence, there was a major distraction grinding up against her backside.

“Better hurry up, baby girl. I’m getting impatient here.” Steve whispered huskily into her ear, leaving her shivering.

The girl finally managed to unlock her door, and the moment she did, it was closed from the inside and she was shoved against it. Y/N’s legs around Steve’s waist, his lips against her neck. She let out a high-pitched moan.

“Oh, you like that, baby? You like it when your daddy’s rough with you?”

Another whine in response.

“I need an answer, baby.” The man added with a particularly harsh bite to her neck. Y/N instantly knew there’d be marks the next day, worrying that they’d still be there for the wedding, but was too turned on to say anything.

“Yes.” She managed to let slip past her lips.

“‘Yes’ who?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” Just as every time, the word ‘daddy’ went straight to Steve’s dick; the evidence was extremely prominent against Y/N’s thigh.

He had-had enough by now. And so, he grabbed on to the neckline of her olive green dress and ripped it straight down. His plump lips instantly attacked her chest, which to both his surprise and delight, was not clad in a bra.

“I knew it.” Steve rasped. “Have you been braless all night, my naughty girl?”

“Yes, daddy.” Y/N said shakily. But who could blame her for not wearing one? It was a strapless dress and the top part was double-layered anyways.

“I bet you aren’t wearing any panties either.” He said in between sloppy kisses to her breasts. “I think I have to check.” And with that, he strongly pressed the fingers of his right hand against her clit, being correct about the lack of underwear. But once again, who could blame her? The bottom part of her bodycon dress was very thin, and she definitely couldn’t have panty lines.

“Daddy.” The girl whined.

His fingers then slipped inside her tight, aching hole, repeatedly thrusting in and out.

Y/N’s legs turned to jelly, instantly hanging against Steve’s sides. Luckily though, due to his brute strength and the sturdiness of the hotel’s door, she stayed upright as he continued fucking her with his fingers.

“Cum for me baby, cum for your daddy.” He ordered, his thumb and forefinger instantly pinching her clit.

So with that, Y/N let go of any last bit of control she had left, and came. Hard.

The room was filled with the sounds of whines, panting, and the squishing of Steve’s fingers inside of her wet opening.

“Shhh, shh.” He cooed as she came down from her high. “You did so great, my precious girl.” Right as Y/N felt brought back down to Earth, he started counting in a low voice “That’s one.”

Uh oh, she though to herself. It was one of those nights. Those nights were Steve repeatedly made her cum until she was so sensitive that she couldn’t even move. And it’s not that Y/N didn’t enjoy these nights, because she sure did, but she also knew that once he was getting started, there was no way of getting him to stop.

Steve brought his right hand up to his mouth, slowly and sensually licking the juices off each individual finger as if savouring the taste of her. The man adjusted his hands underneath Y/N’s thighs before he quickly walked them both to the bed, throwing her onto it.

Just as quickly, Steve took off his sport coat and crawled overtop of her with a low growl; this just added to her wetness. “Let’s see how many more you’ve got in you, little girl.” He said with quirked up lips. But that sly smirk was soon out of Y/N’s field of view, as his mouth descended to her dripping pussy.

“Oh, Jesus.” She said as she felt his tongue against her.

He peered up from between her legs. “That’s not my name, princess.”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

Steve went back down and continued his delicious assault on her core. With every stroke of his tongue, Y/N felt as if she was being pulled further and further away from her coherent thoughts. The only two things on her mind being the feel of his mouth on her vagina, and the slight brush of his nose against her clit every time he shifted his head.

“Daddy, I-I-I’m going to cum again.” Y/N stuttered.

The words “Do it, babydoll.” vibrated against her pussy, pushing the girl over the edge for a second time.

Steve lapped up every last drop that Y/N had to offer, and once he went up the bed so that they were eye to eye, licked his lips. The man looked every bit as much as a cat who just got his cream. “Two.” He proudly rumbled into her ear.

Y/N was still in her post-orgasm bliss as she heard the sound of Steve’s belt being undone and dropped to the floor. She turned her head just in time to see him finish unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and abs. Next to go was his pants and boxer briefs, Steve’s large hands pulling them both down all at once.

Y/N’s mouth watered at the sight of his delicious cock. No matter how many times that she had seen it and felt it before, the size continued to overwhelm her.

As if the man had read her mind, “You like what you see, my baby?” He took the handy condom out of his wallet, rolling it on and stroking himself in the process.

Too caught up in the sight of what was him, all that Y/N could do was nod her head.

Once again, Steve made his way to hover above her. One moment, the girl was staring up into his beautiful blue eyes, and the next, she was moaning out in surprise at the sudden impact of him inside of her.

Just as suddenly, his dick started to thrust in and out of her at a slow, leisurely pace. Steve was doing it specifically to drive her insane. It had worked.

“Faster, daddy.” Y/N whimpered.

“Baby girl, is that how you ask daddy a question?” The Captain retaliated as he continued to move in and out of her wanting hole.

The girl was almost crying at this point, “Please, please daddy, can you go please faster?”

Steve, starting to get impatient himself, began to fuck her more quickly. He could see how easily she was falling apart underneath him by each squeeze of her walls around his member.

And with a gasp, Y/N was cumming again.

“Three.” Steve groaned out as he was slowing his thrusts. The man then pulled out of her, his dick still as hard as ever.

Without warning the girl was tossed onto her stomach, Steve’s big hands harshly grasping her hips and bringing them closer to his own. There would definitely be bruises the next day, matching the ones he already made on her neck and chest. But she decided she’d wear them all with pride, and maybe a bit of concealer if necessary.

Steve entered her a second time, his pace being even quicker than before; if possible. He could see Y/N’s hands strongly grasping the sheets from his place behind her, just loving how desperate she was for him.

Between the feeling of her tight pussy around him and the continual sounds she was making, the man figured that it wouldn’t be long before he finished. But, he knew he could give her one more first. Steve was the type who got off on getting her off. Y/N had no complaints.

As he started to rub circles on her clit, she loudly moaned out into the vast expanse of her hotel room.

“Come on little girl, give me one more,” Steve huffed. “Cum once more for daddy.”

With that last bit of encouragement, the girl came again; her biggest orgasm of the night triggering his own.

“Y/N, baby.” He groaned out as she collapsed on the bed from exhaustion. Steve swerved just in time to avoid crushing her, running a hand through his damp golden hair. “Best. Bachelor. Party. Ever.” He spoke in between pants of breath.

The girl turned onto her back and nodded her sweat-covered head. “Agreed.”

The man only stayed on the bed a minute before he was up and heading to the ensuite bathroom. He returned with a wet, warm washcloth and began to rub in between Y/N’s thighs, cleaning her up.

“Thank you.” She said hoarsely, her voice practically wrecked after the night’s activities.

“Of course.” Steve replied with a sincere smile. How in less than five minutes he went from a dominant sex god to a sweet and wholesome boyfriend would forever remain a mystery to Y/N.

He returned the cloth to the restroom before making his way back to the bed, turning off the room’s lights along the way.

“I love you so much.” The Captain stated as he tucked them both underneath the covers and pulled her into his arms.

The effect that this man had on her never failed, as Y/N was blushing at the simple phrase they’ve said over a thousand times. “I love you more.” She added cheekily.

“Not possible.” Steve contradicted, just as usual. And before she could counter back, he placed a loving kiss right on her lips.

“Goodnight, Stevie.” Y/N spoke as she turned in his arms, having him spoon her.

“Goodnight, my love.” But, it only took about three seconds before he was speaking up again. “Oh, and babydoll?”

“Mm-hmm?” Y/N replied, almost asleep.

“Four.”

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #dom!steve rogers #daddy steve rogers #dom steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #dom!steve #daddy steve #dom steve #sub!reader #sub reader #chris evans x you #captain america x you #chris evans x y/n #captain america x y/n #avengers x reader

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hugsandharrifield · 4 years

Note

fic idea! Steve has intrusive thoughts and doesn't know how to handle them so he distances himself because he's scared of hurting himself/others. really gritty now that i think about it but of course his knight in shining armor dweet will help

Sorry this took so long, I have had some really bad anxiety lately and this prompt was giving me some writers block lol. I don’t know if it’s good at all but I finally got something out of my head. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Dwight had finally cornered Steve, for almost a week now Steve had been avoiding him, he didn’t know why and it was really starting to stress him out. They had been dating for at least 5 months at this point, all had seemed to be going well. At least as well as they could in the terrible place that was the Entity’s Realm.

He had followed him into the woods around the Campfire, a place where space was warped and bended. That if you entered by yourself no one other than the Entity could find you. In order to follow someone in the woods you had to follow them when they entered and keep them in sight at all times. If you lost them.. they were gone, somewhere in the woods but unfindable by you.

So Dwight did that, he followed Steve who had been retreating to the woods after the trials instead of sitting at the Campfire like the rest of the survivors. It took a little bit of a chase, Steve seemingly attempting to lose Dwight but he also appeared to be tired and Dwight caught up with him anyways.

Dwight backed him up against a tree, not wanting him to get away. "Steve, what the hell is going on? Did.... Did I do something wrong?" Dwight's fear of failure and rejection bubbling to the surface.

Steve looked exhausted as if he hadn't gotten sleep in days, but he still was lucid enough to catch onto what Dwight was thinking. "What?! Oh god no.. Oh no... Dwight... I love you so much.. Just... no.." he reached out to hug him but stopped himself short looking conflicted.

"If I didn't do anything wrong then why the hell are you avoiding me? And everybody else for that matter?" Dwight was super frustrated and snapped a little. Steve looked like he had panic in his eyes. " I don't think I can tell you.. Not without you hating me."

Dwight put his hands on Steve's shoulders who was super tense and shaking feeling like he was about to bolt anytime. "Whatever it is, I won't hate you." Dwight looked very seriously into Steve's face. Steve kind of broke, his body sagged and he began to tell a story. Apparently he had been in a Trial with the Doctor about a week ago and something insane happened. The Doctor caught him, and instead of killing him brought him to a secret part of Léry's.

Sometimes when the Doctor does very well for the Entity it rewards him, it gives him access to a space in his domain. A place to experiment, Dwight had actually heard about this before Jake, Nea, and Tapp had been dragged off by Herman too at some point.

They said that the time in the trial stopped when they were in the room and Herman was allowed to conduct horrible experiments upon them. Eventually like Steve they had been released.

Steve tells Dwight that Herman had connected him to machines and started digging the thoughts out of his head. Personal thoughts, scary thoughts, dark thoughts.. Herman was super pleased with these results. He was so pleased that he invited Steve to join him in his experiments, because given what he had found Steve was well on his way to finding his way to the truth of dark impulses or some such nonsense.

"What does that even mean?" Dwight interrupted.

"It means that he saw the things that I was thinking, horrible things Dwight." Steve cowered a bit "Like how sometimes the thought of drowning David in a pool of his own blood. Or how I keep thinking about what it would feel like to take Danny's knife and stab myself with it. Or Ash is so annoying that I could just toss him into the Campfire.... or..."

Dwight held up his hand " I mean who hasn't considered murdering David or Ash."

"Dwight! it's not funny." Steve looked very serious.

"No it's not! Herman is a such a freaking egotistical prick and I am going to drop so many pallets on his head." Dwight sounded pretty angry.

"Listen Herman didn't put those thoughts in my head." Steve waved his hands trying to get the conversation back on track.

"No he didn't but I have a super important question for you handsome... Do you want to do any of those things you are thinking about? Like do you actually want to do them?" Dwight gave him a serious look.

Steve looked confused for a sec and then said "Of course not why do you think I have been avoiding you and everybody else?"

"Haven't you had thoughts like that before?" Dwight calmly clearly trying to make a point.

"Yeah but...." Steve looked confused "Herman made it sound, I don't know like he expected me to be the next Killer or something. It was really convincing."

"This isn't really about the electrical freak, what did you do before this all happened when you had stray dark thoughts." Dwight was firmly steering the conversation now.

"I just kind of ignored them I guess, it's been worse now though since we've been here in this place." Steve shrugged looking kind of confused.

"I'd imagine the stress would make it worse. Listen sweetie, I've had my share of dark thoughts." Dwight admitted. "But bottling it up and hiding away ain't gonna fix that."

"But they are so horrible." Steve seemed beside himself. "Yeah but they are just thoughts, the mind is this thing that never shuts up. It's constantly throwing information our way. Sometimes that information isn't pleasant or even relevant. But I think that the mind itself can't help that. That our mind is a thought machine that doesn't have any real passive filters just active ones." Dwight says as he walks behind Steve places his hands on his shoulders and begins to rub in tiny circles into his back.

"What does that mean?" Steve leaned back into Dwight listening to him talk.

"It means handsome, that you need to recognize those thoughts for what they are. Noise! and treat them accordingly. Like being in a room you can't escape with a screaming child or a loud annoying mechanical machine. You have to actively recognize that the thought doesn't really mean anything and let the thought drift off like they all do eventually." Dwight kept kneading into Steve's back feeling his back muscles loosen slightly.

"I... Your probably right..." Steve mumbled starting to feel comfortable.

"It's okay good looking, I don't expect you to completely be over this all at once." Dwight encircled his guys waist from behind and leaned his head on Steve's shoulder. "Just, if you need to, come and talk to me okay?"

"God you're the best boyfriend!" Steve leaned his head back and kissed Dwight's cheek.

Dwight blushes, "Nope but your stuck with me anyways." he laughs a bit.

"Yeah I guess I am." Steve leans back and gives him another kiss.

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bombshellbois · 4 years

Text

Killer Summer

@harringroveweekoflove

Harringrove Week of Love Day 5: Summer Camp AU

Rating: T

Warnings/Triggers: Dark humor, brief description of a corpse

Words: 2122

Summary: Billy’s big summer plans for him and Steve get derailed by the common annoyances of summer camps, such as children and serial killers.

The rain hits the cabin windows in heavy splatters, smacking into the glass in a way that makes Steve vaguely wonder how old the window are. And if heavy enough rain might break them. It certainly doesn’t feel like that’s impossible when those windows are the only thing between him and a downpour that’s quite literally tearing the forest apart. He sighs and decides not to think about that. Instead, he picks up the handheld mic for the ham radio and pushes the button on the side.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Steve Harrington, radioing in from Camp Know Where. The storm has knocked out our power and there is debris blocking the road out. Two of our counselors are unaccounted for. We have children out here. I repeat, we have no power and no way out of the woods.”

He releases the button and watches the mic like it might do something. Then the radio. Silence. He throws the mic on the desk, scrubbing a hand over his face as it clatters into the body of the radio and falls off the desk.

The cabin door swings open and the wind carries it right into the wall. The rain outside is just a wall of noise, making Steve cover his ears. Billy scrambles into the cabin, the rain splattering in more than halfway across the room when the wind picks up, until he slams the door behind him.

“—Mother Nature, fucking PMS bitch!” Billy is saying, which Steve can only hear once he’s safely shut the door. Billy’s camp shirt is saturated, the green fabric dark with water and looking almost black in the dim light from the oil lamp. He slams a thermos down on the desk and shakes his head rapidly, sending a spray of water everywhere.

“Dude!” Steve raises his arms to try and shield himself from it. “Come on, I just barely got dry!”

“Hey, I risked life and limb to bring you coffee. Deal with it.” Billy grabs a handful of Steve’s collar, the water on his hand immediately soaking into Steve’s shirt. Steve groans in irritation, but turns his head up and gives Billy the kiss he’s waiting for. Water drips from Billy’s curls onto his face and and neck.

“That’s more like it,” Billy sighs, releasing his shirt. He jerks his chin at the mic from the ham radio, swinging gently from its cord where it’s fallen off the desk. “Don’t suppose you were roughing that thing up because you were so happy to get an answer.”

“I don’t even know if this thing is working,” Steve sighs. “Nothing on it does anything. For all I know, I could be talking to a dead battery.”

“Don’t your nerd children know how to use it?” Billy asks, stripping off his sopping shirt.

“Yeah, but I’m not dragging them out of the storm shelter to come work the radio.” Steve picks up the mic so he can pretend he wasn’t staring at Billy’s chest, setting it on top of the radio. “I mean, honestly? What are we even calling for?”

“You know what.” Billy wrings his shirt out by the door, since the floor is hopelessly soaked there already. The water dribbles into a puddle on the floor, and when he snaps the shirt back open, it still drips from the corners. “Hopper said you had to keep him in the loop.”

“Yeah, I know. I know he’s freaked out by the weird shit that’s been going on, especially with El’s battery still being dead.” Honestly, if the storm hadn’t come on so suddenly and buried them under sheets of water, Hopper probably would have come and picked El up as soon as he heard about the very lived-in tent they found in the woods while hiking. The one with a compost pile suggesting someone has been living there at least the whole summer. “But a fucking Demogorgon could come and knock on the window right now and what is the forest service gonna do about it?” Steve gestures wildly at the radio that might not even fucking work for all he knows. “Fire up a helicopter in the middle of a deluge?”

“I mean, knowing Hopper he’d probably pull on a raincoat and come shoot it. It’d take him hours to get here and we’d all be dead by then, of course,” Billy says sensibly, leaning his hip on the desk.

Steve snorts out a laugh. It’s morbid but the image of Hopper in a yellow rain slicker, slogging his way through a mudslide and holding his gun over his head like some kind of small-town Rambo... it’s a pretty fucking funny image. Especially when combined with the severe stress they’ve been under, with finding the tent and then the broken locks in the boat house and now the storm that basically just fell on top of them.

“Not to mention that Demogorgons are pretty bullet-proof,” he adds.

“Ah. Can’t forget that part,” Billy agrees, leaning down and kissing Steve again. “So, y’know... once he ran out of bullets, he’d have to pistol-whip it into submission.”

Steve snickers and wraps a hand around the back of Billy’s neck. “You made me laugh. I’m gonna share my coffee with you for that.” He reaches for the thermos, but Billy nudges it just out of reach.

“I can think of way better ways for you to thank me, pretty boy,” he says, lowering his voice to a husky whisper.

“I know you can. You’ve been hinting at that all summer.” Not terribly subtly either, because when was Billy ever subtle? More like leaving condoms hidden everywhere in Steve’s bed like some fucked-up cousin of the tooth fairy.

“And this might be our only chance to not have anyone else around.”

Steve rolls his eyes and leans further over the desk, snatching the thermos. “The kids aren’t around because we’re in an emergency weather situation. And Tommy and Carol aren’t around because they’re off fucking. Again.”

“Sounds like they’re the only ones having fun this summer.” Billy picks up the radio mic and pushes the button. “Mayday, mayday, mayday... this is Billy Hargrove, calling from Camp Know Where. We’ve lost power and the road is blocked and there’s about to be twenty minutes of unmanned radio waves while I take my boyfriend into the back room and bend him over a kayak.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Twenty whole minutes? How romantic.”

“Ooh. Boyfriend is displeased.” Billy clicks his tongue. “Make that forty unmanned minutes. Forty-five if we cuddle.”

“Oh I expect cuddling.” Steve pries the mic out of Billy’s hand and drops it aside. Standing from the desk, he hooks a finger under Billy’s belt and pulls.

In the time it takes to cross the tiny cabin space, it’s impossible to tell who’s pulling and who’s being pulled. They practically fall into the back room where the lake equipment is stored. There are hard shadows cast by the kayaks leaning on the wall, but the faint light from the oil lamp on the desk in the main cabin doesn’t offer much more detail. Not that that matters.

When Billy trips over a pile of oars he can’t see on the floor, he just hauls Steve down on top of him, grabbing his hair and pulling him in for a kiss. Steve’s hands grope at him, fingers passing over flesh and scars until they find the metal buckle of his belt.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Steve’s method of yanking blindly isn’t doing much on Billy’s belt. Billy laughs breathlessly and reaches down to help him. When the leather tongue finally slips free, Steve makes a triumphant noise into their mouths and throws the belt aside. The metal skitters lightly on the wood and taps gently against a wall somewhere.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Billy pushes Steve onto his back on something that feels soft. Steve shifts and tries to get comfortable, but something is jabbing into his back, It feels like he’s laying on the life preservers, but they’re folded in all the wrong ways. “To lumpy,” he complains. Trying to move away doesn’t work either, because something hard and wooden just knocks into his knee, making him hiss.

“Okay, get the light.” Steve rubs at his knee, trying to ease the throbbing sting of it. Billy makes a frustrated noise but gets off him and goes back into the main cabin.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Steve looks around in the dark. What the hell is that sound anyway? The shadows cast by the kayaks swing wildly as Billy picks up the light source and carries it inside.

“Here. Hurry up and get comfy,” he says, handing Steve the lamp. “With our luck, the rain’ll clear up and all the kids’ll come charging in when I’m still balls deep in you.”

“You’re so charming.” Steve stands up, side-stepping the oars that he can see now. He holds the light aloft, letting it fall on the window. It swings in the gusty wind outside, rapping against its own frame. The wood under it is dark and glistening from the rain.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“...Why is the window open?”

Billy groans like the wait might kill him. “It’s open because it blew open,” he says, stepping around the oars and over to the window.

“Can it even do that?” Steve asks, looking around the room.

“It just did.” Billy yanks the window closed. “There. All fixed. Back to undressing.”

“You’re impossible.” Steve kicks at the pile of life vests, trying to form a more pleasant-looking pile.

“Impossibly horny because you don’t put out,” Billy huffs, unbuttoning his own pants.

“We’ve been at a summer camp surrounded by kids!” Steve sets the lamp on the ground and flops down on his pile, unfastening his belt.

“And now we’re not, for a very limited time. So quit wasting it.” Billy pulls a condom from his back pocket and drops it on Steve’s stomach before shucking his pants off.

“Asshole.” Steve tips his head up and kisses Billy as he kneels between his legs and then settles his weight on top of him. Something is still jamming into his back once he’s got Billy on top of him.

“Dammit.” Steve pushes Billy off and twists around to grab the lamp. “What the hell is wrong with these things?” He yanks on one of the vests free from the pile.

The problem is not the vests. The problem is the arm. The pale, naked arm laying limp on the ground under the pile.

Oh god.

Steve grips the lantern harder to make sure his hand doesn’t shake and slowly lowers the light to follow the arm back, back, back into the dark space under one of the shelving units.

Tommy’s dead eyes stare back at him. His face is white and his mouth is hanging open, the lamp casting hard shadows in his mouth, turning it into a black maw. His green Camp Know Where t-shirt is matted in something dark, but the body is crammed into a space too small to see it clearly.

Steve stares at the body. Billy, crouched beside him, stares at the body. He turns to look at Steve, reaching over to take the lamp before Steve drops it.

“Okay. Steve?”

“..Yeah?”

“I think we should still do it.”

Steve pauses for a long minute, having to run that through his head a few times. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell, Hargrove!” Steve shoves him aside and scrambles up off the floor. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“He’d want us to!” Billy calls after him. “Come on, Steve, honor his memory!”

In the main cabin, he can hear Steve picking up the mic for the radio. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, we have an emergency situation at Camp Know Where...”

Billy groans in frustration and kicks the limp arm hanging out into the room. “Way to fucking cockblock, Hagan,” he sneers, pulling his pants back on. “I hope they let me write your eulogy so I can tell everyone what a sycophantic suck-up you were. And then I’m gonna piss in your open grave.”

“Billy!” Steve yells. “Stop yelling at Tommy’s corpse and come help me figure out what the fuck to do!”

Billy throws his hands up and points at the arm. “Great. Now you got me in trouble,” he hisses. “This is why you got picked off first, because you’re a shitty friend.” He snatches up his belt and stalks out of the storeroom to go help Steve deal with the stupid serial killer bullshit.

***

Epilogue: Tommy’s funeral is lovely. Billy is not asked to write the eulogy, and Steve does not allow him to piss into the open grave, despite Billy’s best efforts.

#my writing #harringroveweekoflove #harringrove #billy/steve #I really do intend to post these during the actual appropriate day #and then I change directions halfway through and start over #PS I don't know enough about ham radios #but I like to imagine that the problem was with receiving responses #and the messages were going through fine #and some poor forest ranger had to relay Billy's message to Hopper

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years

Text

A love that never leaves (Epilogue)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Death by fluff.

A/N: Here we have a visit from a very hungry super soldier, an enormous helping of domestic bliss, and an unexpected surprise for Bucky. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me on this little adventure. I appreciate every bit of encouragement and support, and I hope you enjoy the end! ♥️

If you’re interested in the song the boys are whistling, it’s a war song from 1942 “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.” You can find it on Spotify. ☺️

Links don’t work, so if you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

Previously...

Slipping a knife from his boot, he crouches down and digs his blade into the tree. With a few twists of his wrist, he carves a rough cross deep into the base of the tree trunk. He gazes at the small token for a minute, before sliding the knife back into his boot.

Standing with an inaudible sigh, he backs away. Straightens himself up. Snaps his feet together and offers a sharp salute to the unmarked grave.

“Rest easy, Soldier,” he murmurs.

And then Sergeant Bucky Barnes turns and heads home.

*****

One month later

Out by the woodshed, Bucky lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes the sweat from his face. Sorting through the pile of wood, he finds the best piece, balancing it on the chopping block. With an easy swing, the sharp blade arcs through the air and the pieces tumble into the growing pile.

Chopping wood seems unnecessary this late in the season, but he likes the work. Manual labor feels cathartic, and he relishes the pull of his muscles with each swing. Besides, even though he runs hot, he knows she doesn’t. If he has to put in some elbow grease to keep her warm, he’s happy to do it.

Spring is so tantalizingly close, he can almost taste it.

More and more of the ever-present world of white disappears daily, the shining sun turning the world beyond the cabin into a slushy mess of mud. So muddy in fact, they’ve gotten her truck stuck twice.

The first time they got it out no problem, but the second time - Bucky has that memory tucked away forever. While the wheels spun uselessly, he got out to push, which was a nice idea in theory. Until the truck leapt forward and he face planted in the mud. When she hit the brakes and jumped out, she ran around back to find him staggering to his feet, covered head to toe in black muck.

Of course, her surprised laughter turned to shrieking when he chased her through the slop until he caught her, picked her up, and threw her in a snowbank, his fingers tickling the entire time. They rode home dripping wet and covered in mud, barely able to stop laughing. When they arrived, Bucky pulled her into the shower with him until they were both perfectly clean and thoroughly interested in getting dirty again.

Yes, spring is a magical time.

Life feels new. After a long, cold, dark winter, he can finally see the other side and everything it offers. It’s like being born again, his life with her brimming with hope.

Taking a deep breath of the clean air, he selects another chunk of wood.

Above the sharp thwack of the ax, he hears a faint sound floating on the breeze.

Shading his eyes, he sees a figure walking along the road. Even from here, he sees a bright red stocking hat pulled low over his head, a hitchhiker’s bag strapped to his back. There is a brief flutter of nerves, before his stomach eases. The slope of broad shoulders and bouncing walk are telltale signs, but then he hears the whistle of a familiar song. Embedding the ax into the chopping block with a dull thunk, he whistles the tune in return. Strange words he unconsciously knows from another time.

Praise the Lord, we’re on a mighty mission

All aboard, we ain’t a-goin fishin’

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition

And we’ll all stay free

Dusting off his hands, Bucky ambles down to meet the man, a relaxed grin on his face.

“Still singing that damn song?” Bucky greets him. “Anyone tell you the war is over?”

Steve Rogers pulls off his stocking hat with a theatrical groan and uses it to mop the sweat from his face.

“Classics never die,” he huffs. Running sweaty fingers through snarls of golden hair, it sticks straight up in an awkward mohawk. “God damn, this was a fuckin’ walk. You got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

Grabbing Steve in a giant bear hug, Bucky lifts him off his feet and Steve squawks in protest.

“You’re such a little shit. Come inside. Got someone you need to see.”

*****

On the porch, Bucky removes his mud-covered boots and neatly lines them up beside the front door; raising his eyebrows, he points for Steve to do the same. Steve grins at the domesticity and follows suit, before following him inside.

“Hey darlin’?” Bucky calls and there’s an answering shout from above.

Dressed in old wellies, jeans, and a knobby grey fisherman’s sweater she appears, trying to zip up her jacket as she trots down the stairs.

“Buck, if you actually want potato soup tonight, I have to go into town. I didn’t realize when you said you ate all the bacon, you literally ate all the bacon. There were three pounds of it, how did you even -” looking up, she stops.

Astonishment floods Steve’s face when he sees her, but he schools it quickly. Standing up straighter, he nervously tries to smooth his hair, before eventually recognizing the futility and shoving his hands in his pockets. He gives her a bashful smile instead.

“Hey. I’m, uh, sorry for just showing up. Probably should have called, I just -”

The words are struck from his lungs when she bounds forward and throws her arms around him, knocking him back a step. Steve hugs her tight, glancing in surprise at Bucky who looks on fondly.

“You never have to call, Captain Rogers. You’re always welcome.”

“Christ, no,” Steve grimaces when he releases her. “Call me Steve, please. Get enough of that Captain bullshit at home.” Catching himself, he looks momentarily horrified. “Shit, I mean shoot, sorry, pardon my language.”

“Please,” she says with a laugh. Elbowing Bucky, she winks. “Let’s not pretend I haven’t heard worse from him.”

Wrinkling his nose, Bucky wraps a playful arm around her neck. “I told you, it’s how I spice up my vocabulary. Science says swearing makes me smart.”

Rolling her eyes, she pokes her fingers into his belly and he grunts breathlessly.

“God, you two are adorable,” Steve says seriously. “I think I’m gonna vomit.”

Placing his whole hand over Steve’s face, Bucky shoves him away while she laughs, her arm curving around his waist.

“Want me to go warm up the truck? Pull it around for you?” Bucky asks, and she kisses his cheek.

“No, I’m good. Stay here and catch up. Maybe get Steve some food, I’d hate for him to starve,” she says.

“I love her,” Steve stage whispers.

Grabbing a bundle of tote bags, she heads outside, stomping carelessly through the muddy yard. On the sunny porch, the two men stand shoulder to shoulder, waving as she drives the clunky old truck down toward town. Once it disappears, Bucky turns to Steve and claps him on the back.

“Come on asshole, I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

*****

One carton of eggs and a loaf of bread later, they sit on the porch with steaming cups of coffee. Bucky tucks an errant strand of hair behind his ear as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. Steve sits back in his chair, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

“It all sounds insane, doesn’t it?” Bucky asks quietly.

Fiddling with his coffee cup, Steve scratches absently at his beard. “Maybe. Maybe not. We always knew there were others. Whatever they did to him, it wasn’t perfect, but it must’ve been enough for him to survive. Whatever survive means.”

“Yeah. I guess so. ”

Taking a long drink of coffee, Steve frowns at his boots before looking up to Bucky. “So, you buried him then?”

There’s a defiant edge to Bucky’s voice when he responds.

“Just felt right. He was a soldier, not a lab rat.”

Steve shrugs casually as he sits forward. “I get it, don’t need to convince me. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Amused at the blatant lack of adherence to the precious world of protocol, Bucky gasps.

“Goodness gracious, I’m clutching my fuckin’ pearls. Did I just convince Captain America to commit treason?”

“Well you always were a terrible influence. So many bad decisions, all because of you,” Steve says loftily.

“You’re so full of shit,” Bucky laughs. Steve grins wickedly, knowing full well all their youthful indiscretions came from his ridiculous decisions; not that he’ll ever admit that one to Bucky.

At the thought of their past though - it makes him wonder.

“Can I ask something?”

“Hit me,” Bucky says easily. There are a couple minutes of silence, while Steve tries to find the words he wants.

“When she wipes memories, that’s - that’s it? They’re gone for good? We couldn’t - like, there’s no chance of getting them back?”

Bucky smiles ruefully. “No. I was curious, so I asked. But she said it was absolute. Looked so miserable when she told me, I’m sure as shit not mentioning it again. Besides,” he contemplates the blue sky beyond the porch railing, “it doesn’t matter. What do I need all that for anyway? Got her. Got you. That’s enough.”

The relief in Steve’s reply is palpable. “Good. I hated your dumbass running around trying to dig up the past.”

“Me too,” Bucky sighs. “Only did it ‘cause I thought I should. But now - I’m just worrying about the future. Those are the only memories I need.”

They sit in companionable silence, gazing out into the cool morning. In the treetops, birds chatter back and forth, and Steve feels himself relax. An unfamiliar peacefulness steals over him, filling him from head to toe; he almost doesn’t hear the quiet question.

“Stevie?” Looking sideways, he finds Bucky watching him calmly. “I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired. Just want a normal life, a home with her. Something quiet. Is that - will that be okay?”

The hesitancy in Bucky’s voice hits Steve like a fist to the face. Turning away, he blinks back tears and clears his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, Buck. Of course that’s okay.”

That unspoken weight always dragging Bucky down disappears. With Steve’s words, the decades seem to fall away and there - the fleeting image of Sergeant James Barnes flashes across his features. Lighter. Softer. Carefree and full of laughter, wanting nothing more than to hang up his boots and find a warm home with the girl he loves.

“Thanks,” Bucky whispers looking back into the clear morning, a contented smile on his lips.

With the crisp breeze swirling around them, the soldiers sit in silence. One light haired and one dark, with two matching pairs of blue eyes, and two gigantic hearts.

*****

The sun is just beginning to sink when Bucky announces he’s going to go clean up the woodpile before it gets dark. The night air blows sharp when he opens the door, ushering in the wintery chill that still insists on arriving when darkness falls.

“Nah, stay here and catch up,” he urges, when Steve goes to grab his jacket. “It’ll just take me a few minutes.”

“Thanks love,” she murmurs and Bucky beams at the pet name, a happy bounce in his step as he heads outside. Grinning at Steve, she goes to the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of beer from the depths, popping the tops and handing one to him.

“Cheers,” she says, clinking them together and he nods shyly. Pulling out knives and cutting boards and stock pots and skillets, she assembles everything for the potato soup Bucky begs her to make at least once a week. Salted water is simmering on the stovetop, before Steve finally speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Scrubbing potatoes, she looks up in surprise. “Sorry for what?”

Steeling his nerves, Steve frowns. “For not coming back. For letting you deal with his death alone. Always promised him, if something happened, I’d do my best to take care of you. And then I just -” he breaks off.

Wiping her hands on a towel, she reaches over the counter and squeezes his hand. “You just saved the world,” she says gently.

Swallowing hard, Steve looks down. “Still. My best friend’s girl, and I let her down. I let both of you down.”

Releasing his hand, she picks up her knife and starts dicing the potatoes.

“No, you didn’t. If I’ve learned nothing else in this life, it’s that you can’t stay in the past. What’s done is done, and now we move on. We’re all here now, Steve,” she says quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

Taking a deep breath, Steve lets the tension of his apology melt away. “He always said you were smart.”

“Hmmm, did he now?” she says with a mischievous grin and Steve can’t help the responding smile; it feels infectious.

The kitchen radio plays in the background, filling the small kitchen with the punchy sound of trumpets and piano, the world of old French jazz. Steve watches her cook, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“How come - how come you didn’t call? Didn’t tell us you were here?”

Without replying, she lays out slices of bacon and starts chopping. Immersed in her task, it takes her a minute to respond.

“When I heard they found you, I almost came to New York. But then, I imagined telling you what happened and - I was too ashamed.” Setting the knife down, she looks up and he sees deep sadness in her eyes. “The last time I saw him, he had no clue who I was, and I had no idea if he was still alive. It all seemed impossible. And then I saw him come back, and I just - you were with him and I was so relieved. He had you. I knew you’d do everything in your power to help him recover. After what I did, I didn’t think I should be part of that.”

Canting her head down, he sees her shoulders slump slightly. Steve knows that feeling better than anyone, what it means when you can’t save someone. Particularly when you can’t save Bucky Barnes.

“Back then, you saved him. During the war. I hope you understand, I hope you know.”

She doesn’t speak, but finally looks up. “Know what?”

He gives her a gentle smile. “How much he loved you. Never shut up about it. Used to drive us all crazy with all his sighing and his mooning around.”

The brilliant smile she gives him lights up her whole face and Steve feels his own lips curve in response. Both of them automatically glance toward the front door when they hear Bucky’s boots clomping up the porch steps.

“I know,” she says, her eyes shining bright. “He tells me every day.”

*****

Steve has more than a thousand stories about Bucky, from growing up in Brooklyn to traipsing across the European front to all their avenging these past few years, and unfortunately for Bucky, Steve seems dead set on relaying every stupid thing Bucky’s ever done. The worst part is, he can’t even refute the stories - Steve could be making everything up, and Bucky can’t even call him out on it.

A fact he continually points out and a fact Steve blithely dismisses.

“Trust me,” he says with a sage nod. “Captain America would never lie.”

“That is the biggest crock of shit I ever heard,” Bucky states. He looks mildly put out when she shushes him.

“Hush Bucky, I need to hear this story.”

“Uh, no you most certainly do not,” he replies, as Steve tells about the time him, Bucky, and Sam were stuck in a safe house in Mexico and every time Bucky went to sleep, Sam moved everything in the apartment three inches before convincing Bucky the place was haunted.

“Well for fuck’s sake, there are aliens aren’t there?” Bucky exclaims. “Why the hell not ghosts?”

Scooping up a huge spoonful of soup, Steve swallows it down and gives him a serious look. “That’s true Buck. And that’s why I supported your idea of having a séance to contact the ghost. It seemed like the sensible thing to do.”

“I hate your face so hard. Remind me why you’re here again?” Bucky groans. Leaning back, he slings an arm around her chair and tucks his face against her neck. “Don’t believe anything he says. He lies,” his plea is muffled.

Patting his head, she scratches her fingers in his hair just like he likes, and he hums delightedly. “Don’t worry, I think you’re very adorable.”

“I am very adorable,” Bucky mumbles.

Lifting up his bowl, Steve slurps down the rest of his soup; smacking his lips, he gives them a mysterious smile. “Actually, there was another reason I came to visit.”

Bucky pulls away from her and glares at him. “Was it to destroy my happiness?”

“No, that’s just a fringe benefit,” Steve says cheerfully. Shoving away from the table, he goes to his oversized backpack and starts digging. Pulling something free, he comes back to the table and sets a cloth bag in front of Bucky.

“It’s a bag,” Bucky deadpans. “Inside a bag.”

“Smartass. Open it.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at her, Bucky un-cinches the bag and pulls out a leather satchel.

“It’s a bag, inside a bag, inside - a bag.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re hilarious?”

“Literally everyone who’s met me,” Bucky says with a grin. Glancing curiously at the worn brown leather, his smile begins to fade. Something about the bag seems insanely familiar, and he racks his brain -

And he catches his breath. Wide-eyed, he looks back up at Steve.

“Wait. Is this -“

“Yep,” Steve says, eyes sparkling. “You’d left it back at the base camp, must’ve gotten stuck in some of the camp containers they shipped to headquarters. Anyway, I spent the last three weeks banging around the SHIELD archives trying to see if I could find anything - there’s so much shit down there by the way, like an episode of hoarders - and then I was digging through this moldy ass box, and there it was.”

“My bag,” Bucky marvels. Excitement fills his face, bright sunrise in the evening. “From the war, from before. All my stuff.”

“All your memories,” she says breathlessly, squeezing his thigh.

“Go on,” Steve encourages. “Open the damn thing, I’m dying to know what the hell you kept in there. You never let me see anything.”

The leather straps are fastened tight, decades of moisture and dust creating a concrete knot that takes several minutes to unravel. It creaks irritably when it finally gives way and Bucky tugs it open. One by one, he pulls out items.

A book appears first. Front cover torn, they see a copy of ‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’, one of the compact armed service editions published for soldiers. Some of the pages are stuck together and as he thumbs through it, Bucky sees familiar handwriting. Notes he scribbled in the margins, passages he underlined. Words and phrases pop out like friendly messages from another life. Flipping toward the end, he finds his favorite line, one that caught his fancy when he read the book again last year.

“Dear God,” he reads, voice wobbling slightly, “let me be something, every minute of every hour of my life.”

He touches the words with a cautious metal finger and looks up to find her watching him, a soft look in her eyes. Leaning over, he gives her a kiss and she brushes his hair back.

“You were always something, no question about that,” she says and Bucky smiles.

The next item is a thick sheaf of papers. Folded into neat rectangles are a set of maps, the ones he and Steve received from the Priest in her village, before they headed out on that last mission.

“Oops,” Steve says sheepishly. “Guess we never did get those back to the church.”

Two white, army issued packs of cigarettes follow; when Bucky tips out a Lucky Strike, it crumbles to powder in his fingers. His silver lighter is next, scales of brownish-red rest covering one side. As he tries to light it, the coils give a harsh screech.

“Okay, I was gonna give up smoking anyway,” he shrugs.

When he pulls out a dented flask and unscrews the cap, a faint wisp of whiskey floats out. Steve makes a gagging noise and shudders.

“Holy hell, I remember that garbage. Dugan bought it off a medic at a field hospital in Germany. Cross my heart, it was the worst shit I ever tasted. Gave me nightmares.”

“I remember it too,” she pipes up, looking slightly nauseated. “He convinced me to try it once and I haven’t tried whiskey since.”

Bucky grins at them both and plunges his hand into the bag again, this time, jerking back with a curse. Cautiously, he reaches in again and discovers an open switchblade. Carved below the marble handle in flaking gold are the letters JBB.

“Becca gave that to you, before you shipped out,” Steve says quietly. “She sold her pearl earrings to buy it.”

Rubbing the white marble gingerly, Bucky gently folds down the blade and sets it carefully aside. It hurts for a minute, and his throat works hard to swallow down the emotion.

“Anything else in there?” she nudges lightly, and he shakes himself from the reverie.

Reaching into the bag, his hand bumps something. Buried at the bottom, he feels a soft bundle, a rectangular parcel wrapped in old green cloth. When he pulls it free, he has to unwind it several times before they discover what lies beneath.

Bucky blinks when he sees it, his heart leaping at her soft exclamation.

“My letters,” she says, wrapping her arm around him and curling closer.

“Your letters,” he repeats faintly. Sudden tears fill his eyes and he surreptitiously wipes them away, gruffly clearing his throat.

Handling the paper reverently, he brushes his fingers over the faded handwriting. The whole bundle is tied together with a broken boot lace, and it takes a few tugs before it releases.

Eleven letters.

Eleven letters, written just for him. Eleven of his very own memories, real and tangible and full of her love. Something he knows he kept in his coat pocket every day, drawing comfort and strength from her words, while he battled through the horrors of that unending war.

Unfolding the first one, he takes a deep breath.

10 March 1944

Dear Jimmy,

I wanted to write this on your birthday, so I could fill it full of all the things I wish we could do, if you were here. Maybe next year, everything will be possible. The war will be over, and your day would look something like this.

We could spend it in Paris, how lovely that might be! We could sleep in, no need to get up early. I might wake you up with a kiss, one on your cheek, then on your nose, then on your lips, and then I’d make you breakfast in bed, strong coffee and fried eggs and sizzling slices of bacon and fresh croissants, and we could spend the morning reading the papers and laying in the sun. Then we might go for walk down by the Seine, see the bridges and the booksellers, throw coins in the river and make wishes. Eat chocolate cake and drink bottles of wine. Whatever your heart desires my love, it would be your day. Maybe that night, we would be walking home, and hear a musician playing in the streets and we could stop and dance. Just you and me, holding each other in the moonlight.

And when we get home, I think I’ll take you upstairs to soft sheets and soft pillows and all kinds of things that are rather inappropriate for this letter, but I can certainly tell you one thing - sleep would not be on our minds.

Something to dream about for next year.

But if you remember nothing else on your birthday, I hope you will remember there’s a girl in France who loves you with all her heart.

6 June 1944

…and please don’t ever tell Steve, but I laughed forever at your letter. Such a demure, solemn man when I met him, I keep picturing him covered in mud and so frustrated with all of you! I do hope his knees are feeling better, give him a hug from me.

Sending you all my love, now and always.

19 August 1944

Dear Jimmy,

I’ve never been to a drive-in movie, but I must tell you, I think it sounds wonderful. I have no doubt we could show those kids a thing or two, because the simple truth is that I could spend my entire life kissing you. There would be no need to ever stop, I know that much.

The days of sunlight are long now, and so often I lay out in the field behind the house, where the grass grows tall and the world smells like wildflowers, and I think of you until long after the stars appear. The sweet taste of your lips, the rough feel of your hands, the sound of your voice when you say my name. How much I love the red highlights in your beard and the dimple in your chin and the way you purr like a house-cat when I scratch my fingers through your hair. Everything you are, your kind heart and your curious soul, it fills me with a wanting I cannot explain.

Do you know, when I fall sleep, your face is the last thing on my mind? Sometimes I still believe this is a God, because He lets you into my dreams every single night.

30 December 1944

My love,

Just this morning, I let you go again. Back into this wretched war. It feels unforgivable, letting you leave. My heart fled with you and I admit, tonight I am having trouble remembering to breath.

You are the one thing that gets me through everything. Isn’t that so strange? I had no idea my heart missed you, until the day we met. There are so many things I want to say to you. Things I want you to know about me, who I was and who I am. So many things I want to learn about you.

But now, if I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear your voice. It’s there in that lost place between sleep and awake, where you tell me good night darling, that Brooklyn drawl coloring your words.

There is nothing I want more than a life with you. Sitting on the porch while the sun sets, holding your hand. Falling asleep wrapped in your arms. Loving you until there is nothing but grey left in your hair. I miss you so much. Please, please, please come home soon.

Resting her head on Bucky’s shoulder as he reads, she follows along in silence, reliving every word, every phrase, every bit of punctuation. How familiar it seems, even after all this time.

When Bucky finally sets the last letter down, he turns to her. Tipping his head down, he touches his forehead to hers and closes his eyes; cradling his face in her hands, she rubs her thumb over his lips. Neither one speaks. Old letters and faded memories and quiet breaths are the only words they need.

*****

The evening is late when Steve flops on the couch and gets comfortable. Digging through the hall closet, Bucky returns with a couple pillows and a fuzzy blanket and tosses them over.

“Alright Rogers. You need a teddy bear? Glass of milk? Bedtime story? Should I check under the couch for monsters?” he asks and Steve flips him off with a huge yawn.

“G’night, asshole.”

“Night, punk.”

Flipping off the lights, they leave him snug in the warm darkness downstairs, the flames burning low in the fireplace. Steve watches as they walk upstairs together, Bucky patting her on the butt as she walks ahead, muttering something that makes her laugh. Buried in the couch cushions, he smiles drowsily as he listens to their quiet voices get ready for bed, the calming footsteps above, the soothing laughter gliding down the stairs.

It sounds perfect.

Like a home.

Slowly and surely, the firelight lulls him to sleep.

*****

Standing in the bedroom doorway, her mouth curves up at the image.

Leaning against a pile of pillows, Bucky sits with all his letters spread around him, shuffling through them again. They haven’t left his hands all evening, so perfectly enamored with his small treasure, something he never expected.

“Would you like me to write them for you again? So you have fresh copies?”

Squinting up at her, he contemplates the offer, before shaking his head.

“Nah, already have them memorized. Besides, now you can write me new ones. I like to be romanced.”

“Hmm. I had no idea this relationship would be so much work,” she teases.

Gathering up the letters, he places each in the correct envelope, wraps them back up in a fresh piece of cloth, and tucks them into the drawer of his nightstand. Giving her an outrageously sultry look, he clicks off the lamp and pats the bed next to him invitingly.

Slipping under the sheets, she immediately tucks her cold toes against his leg and he yelps at the icy feel, but lifts his arm automatically, letting her nestle into her favorite spot against his chest.

“Good god, you need to wear socks to bed,” he says with a shiver.

“No, I don’t. I have you,” she says happily.

Smothering a laugh, he rolls to face her. Face to face on the same pillow, two pairs of eyes adjust to the dark room. When she traces the back of her knuckles down his cheek, he catches her hand and presses a kiss to her wrist.

“Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you,” she breathes.

Comfortable silence fills the room, and as the minutes tick by, her eyes grow heavy. Sleep never comes easy for him, so Bucky watches her instead, content to fill his sleeplessness with nothing more than the curves and shadows of her face. He can hear her heartbeat slow, her breathing steady, and right before she goes under, a thought pops into his head.

“Darlin’, can I ask you something?”

“Course,” she says sleepily.

“All the stuff you’ve kept over the years, what you had hidden around the house. Why’d you do that? Hide it that way?”

Slow fingers trace up his chest as she thinks, and her voice is low and raspy with a reply.

“I know what it means to lose everything you’ve ever known. Instead of having it all up here,” and she taps her forehead, “I keep things everywhere. Never all together, so I can’t lose everything at once.”

“Are there more things in the house?” he asks curiously, and she hums.

“Lots more,” she answers, and snuggles closer. Closing her eyes, she presses her lips to his skin. “Can I tell you more tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he murmurs.

A moment later, her deep, even breaths tickle his chest and Bucky keeps watching, mesmerized by the sight. Everything he ever wanted, everything he ever needed, right there. Wrapped up in his arms.

Around them, the room is blanketed in darkness, deep blacks and shades of gray and he thinks about all those memories he’s collected. All that color, good and bad, and what it means to have a past. And then he thinks about the future, free from the turmoil of war, with nothing ahead but the delicate blue of her cool touches and the bright gold of her sunny smiles and the rainbow of color he hears when she laughs.

So many colors. So much time.

The paintbrush in his head lays down to dream. Closing his eyes, Bucky drifts to sleep.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #altnl

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

More Time - Chpt.8

Summary: Faced with an entire day to himself while Bucky is off at work, Steve finds himself struggling to fill his time. After a long afternoon at home he talks himself into going back the bar to see a certain redheaded bartender. Master list is HERE.

Warnings/ Content: Brief mention of Steve having poor body image.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I am so in love with the 70 degree weather right now that I can’t even think of anything clever to say about this chapter. Please know that as soon as this is posted I will be retreating back outdoors to my super awesome lawn chair to bask in the warm sun until I absolutely positively have to go in to feed my kids. Hope it’s nice where you are too and that you got to enjoy some sun today. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Eight

Steve felt oddly out of place the following Monday when Bucky was off to work and he wasn’t due back to the VA until the next day. He had his appointment with Bruce and Helen in the morning but that went quickly and he was still as healthy as he would ever be. He wandered around a few museums Bucky had gifted him with memberships to but that only filled a few hours of his morning. Steve was avoiding texting Bucky, not wanting to feel like a desperate little housewife, but he was running out of things to occupy himself with. He settled for watching a movie with General while he ate lunch. He heated up some leftover chicken and ended up sharing it with the cat who sat politely next to Steve waiting patiently for any scraps he was willing to share. After the movie, Steve holed himself up in his studio letting his art carry him away for the rest of the afternoon; he figured he could at least be productive that way.

It was past dinner time when Steve’s phone lit up with a ping of an incoming message.

Jerkface [6:42:17PM]: hey bb how r u?

Stevie G [6:42:26PM: I’m good. How did things go today?

Jerkface [6:43:48PM]: long tiring ready 2 b home

Stevie G [6:44:03PM]: What time are you guys getting in?

Jerkface [6:44:36PM]: leaving @ 1930 3hr flight

Stevie G [6:44:57PM]: Okay, I’ll probably still be up when you get back. Miss you.

Jerkface [6:45:04PM]: miss u 2 give general a pet 4 me

Steve sighed, he didn’t expect a day on his own to feel so long. He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of sharing another lonely meal with the cat but his stomach rumbled and he knew he needed to figure out dinner sooner rather than later. Steve wondered what the odds were that Emma, the bartender from Friday, would be working again if he stopped in for dinner. He did want to apologize for his behavior despite Bucky insisting he hadn’t been as terrible as he feared. Steve slowly talked himself into going as he packed away his paints. The food there was decent and he had liked the cozy feel of the place, it would be nice to get out for a bit since Bucky wouldn’t be home until late.

General Meow looked up from his spot on the bed and watched with bored disinterest as Steve searched through the closet. He wasn’t dressing up, he told himself, he just couldn't go out in paint splattered clothes. He had been meaning to try out some of the soft, heavy dress pants he’d bought for the winter anyway. And if he was wearing dress pants, well then he couldn’t just put on a tee shirt. Steve adjusted the collar of his blue checkered shirt, tugged at the hem of the navy blue sweater he’d put on over top of it, standing back to assess himself in the full length mirror. He looked kind of nice, he mused. He tried to focus on the things he did like about himself as his therapist had taught him to do but it was difficult when all he saw was what was wrong. He tried reframing his negative thoughts and found that equally exhausting.

Logically he knew his thick glasses made his eyes stand out, and he had always liked his eyes. Just like he knew the layer of softness across his middle meant he was healthy and no longer underweight. But staring at himself in the mirror, he wished he’d given the contact lenses another try and was thankful that the heavy sweater covered him well enough that he could pretend he still had a toned body underneath it.

Steve shook his head at himself, when did he get so vain? He turned to the cat who had gone back to napping, “I’ll be back in a little bit, General.” He told him. The cat opened an eye to acknowledge he had been spoken to but went right back to napping. Steve bundled on his winter coat and gloves, grabbing Bucky’s scarf too at the last minute because it was cold outside and not because it smelled like Bucky and Steve missed him.

It was a short but bitter cold walk down the block to Matty’s Bar and Steve’s lungs were protesting fiercely by the time he got inside. He fumbled with his inhaler and his gloves, finally getting two good puffs in to loosen up the tightness in his chest the icy winter air had caused. Sighing a heavy breath of relief Steve started unzipping his coat and finally looked down the bar to see if Emma was working. He jumped, almost knocking over the stool next to him, when he realized Emma was standing directly across from him; watching with an amused expression.

“Hey Steve.” Emma said, giving him that same sympathetic smile she’d given on Friday when he’d let the bourbon go to his head. Emma had watched him race inside from the cold and struggle to get his breathing under control. She wanted to ask him if he was okay but he’d finally gotten his inhaler out and she waited while he got himself back under control.

“Hey.” Steve replied trying to pretend he hadn’t just jumped like an idiot, “Emma, right?”

“Yeah. It’s good to see you again. You want a Makers Mark?”

“No!” Steve said a little too loudly. Real smooth, Rogers, he chided himself. “No, just a coke please. Friday was… a special night out.”

Emma giggled lightly at his outburst and nodded in understanding while she poured him a coke from the soda gun. “Bucky said you guys were celebrating. So what brings you back again so soon?” There were no other patrons at the bar and Emma took advantage of the lull to lean on the glossy wood top and enjoy herself watching Steve flounder for words. It was endearing the way even the tips of his ears burned bright when he blushed.

“Well, I wanted to apologize for… um… for getting a little drunk on Friday. Your job is tough enough as it is, let alone adding a drunk guy to the mix. I appreciate how kind you were even when I couldn't hold my liquor.”

Emma wanted to hug him, he was so earnest but so misguided. Steve had been a delight compared to other guys who couldn't hold their alcohol, and even most who could. “You did not come all the way down here in the cold just to apologize to me.”

Steve nodded, his head bowed in embarrassment.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Emma whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to Steve on his good side after noticing the tiny hearing aid in his other ear.

Steve nodded again, eyebrows quirked up in interest.

Emma was so close to Steve he could smell the soft lavender of her perfume when she whispered. “Seeing Captain America tipsy and giggling was the best part of my entire night.”

Steve leaned back, a little heartbroken at her words despite their good intent.

Emma frowned, picking up on his reaction to something she said. Maybe she had overstepped? She knew she came across as too flirty at times and, while it was great for tips as a bartender, sometimes it had some unintended consequences. Steve was so handsome though, moreso now than in any picture she’d seen of him in books and documentaries. Emma prayed she hadn’t offended him somehow. She pathetically hoped that he would keep coming in so she could pine quietly from afar over him, and Bucky too if she was being honest with herself.

Steve tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone when he explained, “Well, sorry to disappoint, but it’s just Steve Rogers now. Not an ounce of super anything left in me.”

Emma cringed, realizing her misstep. “Oh, no. I just meant… because you always seem so…” she waved her hands trying in vain to explain herself, “So… stern? Maybe that’s not it, but every picture I’ve ever seen of you seemed so stiff and dutiful. I always wondered if you ever got the chance to just be a normal guy.”

Steve was stunned at her explanation. “No, things were pretty much go-go-go after I got the serum.”

“I’m really sorry. That sounds pretty shitty.” Emma reached out and surprised both of them when she covered his hand with hers, clasping it tightly for a moment.

“I was just trying to do my part.” Steve told her with a shrug.

“So I’ve read. But you’re still a person at the end of the day.”

“You ever been told you have a very unique perspective on things?”

Emma laughed, “Yeah, a couple of times. I’m glad you’re taking it easy now though. You deserve it. And you Bucky seem really happy together. Is he your…?”

Steve nodded quickly, delighted he could share this so openly in public. “He’s my partner, yeah.”

“Good for you guys. Gives us painfully single people hope.”

Steve wanted to ask how someone so lovely could be single but he kept his inner Casanova to himself; that was Bucky’s forte, not his. Instead, he gave her a half smile and navigated the conversation to dinner, letting her talk him into a breakfast burger which sounded ridiculous but she insisted was worth trying.

Steve was thankful it was a Monday night and the icy weather had kept everyone else at home. He loved every minute Emma spent leaning on the bar chatting with him while he ate his meal. She even caved in after a bit and took the fries he kept pushing towards her. It was surprisingly easy to talk to her and Steve found himself opening up more than he meant to at times. She wasn’t hung up on his former mantel of Captain America, her questions all centered around Steve himself and her interest seemed genuine. Steve ended up hanging out for a while after his meal was done just to spend time talking and she didn’t seem to mind at all. He was stunned when his phone pinged with a new message from Bucky letting him know he’d be home in twenty.

“I’m so sorry, I took up your whole night! I gotta get back, Bucky is on his way home from work.” Steve told her while he pulled out his wallet to pay.

Emma tried to hold back her disappointment that Steve was leaving. She had enjoyed his company so much on what would have otherwise been a boring Monday night. Emma hated the way reality came crashing back in. Steve, though charming and sweet and so quietly handsome, was not hers. He had a man he loved to get back home to and she would be heading home to her quiet apartment to read a book and water the little family of succulents who lived in her living room windowsill. Emma realized she had been quiet too long and startled herself back to the present. “It’s okay, Steve. You were good company tonight. I’ll get your check.”

Steve smiled at her fondly and she stamped down the ache in her heart. Emma bid him goodnight, asking him to tell Bucky hello for her and to come back anytime he needed company. She watched him hurry out the door into the cold and sighed heavily, resigning herself to her quiet solitary existence.

Bucky was surprised to find Steve in the kitchen when he arrived home a little before ten. His hands were frigid when he hugged him and the tips of his nose and ears were tinged pink and also icy cold. “Did you just get home?” Bucky asked in disbelief.

Steve looked almost guilty, “I went out for a burger, it was too quiet around here and General isn’t a great conversationalist.”

“Where did you go?”

“Just down to Matty’s Bar. Emma was working again tonight. She says hello by the way.”

Bucky stared at Steve for a long minute. There he was, dressed all nice and having spent what must have been a few hours with the gorgeous girl they had both been mooning over a little. “You’re lucky I’m so secure with myself and our relationship. Otherwise I’d be wondering why you’re dressed like you’re meetin’ my mother and spending a night in the company of a beautiful woman.”

Steve was too easily rattled and fell for the ribbing. “Buck, you know I love you. I learned my lesson; God did I ever. You’re it for me. You have to know that.”

Bucky hugged Steve tightly, pressing firm kisses on the top of his fluffy golden hair. “I was just teasin’ ya. Besides, it’s not like we never brought a girl back for some fun before. Emma’s a real looker.”

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And she’s so sweet. She spent the whole night keeping me company, asking questions about me and not about my time with the shield.”

“Feeling a little smitten there, huh?”

“Just a little. She’s too good for us though, Buck.”

“No one’s too good for you. But maybe I’ll go try a burger from Matty’s on my night off.” Bucky said it in jest but after it was out he considered it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Tag list lovelies: @godofplumsandthunder @remilupin22 @supraveng @hiddles-rose

If anyone wants added or removed please lmk!

#more time #stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky x original character #stucky x original female character #stucky x ofc #steve rogers #preserum steve rogers #post winter soldier bucky barnes #shrinkyclinks #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #post marvel endgame #post endgame #endgame fix it #endgame fixit

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thegoldenavenger · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2 of the kny fusion no one wants haha

Content Warnings: aftermath of death, uhhh some non named, non canon characters get munched, content warnings applicable to kny canon and to iron man canon. not beta’d we die like mne. mobile beware of read more cut.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Everything |

Steve asks Tony if they can return to the humble homestead where Bucky was turned. It's not a terrible idea to see if there are any clues as to the whereabouts of the Demon King there, and Tony understands the need to say goodbye.

The small house smells like blood. Tony sees Bucky's hand clench tighter to Steve's but the newly made demon doesn't react otherwise. Steve let's go of Bucky and begins the arduous task of dragging his family's bodies out into the night snow.

Tony does not help. He walks the perimeter, keeping his eyes away from Steve and Bucky's lonely work. He traces a long cold trail to the edge of the woods, traces it back to the house.

He traces it until Steve and Bucky are knelt, quietly over five unmarked graves, the freshly turned earth blemishing the white snow. Tony waits as long as he can before approaching the two, his footfalls intentionally heavy.

"Unless you want your friend to fry, we should get moving."

Steve makes a scoffing noise in his throat, but he pushes himself up anyway. After a moment's pause, Bucky follows. Tony leads the way, trusting his senses to let him know if the demon starts making a move.

The night is cold, it makes breathing difficult. He focuses on the sharpness of it, like the moon is holding a knife to his lungs, like it will freeze the shapes of five lonely graves from his mind.

He should have been faster.

The walk is too short and they arrive in a small, quiet town before the sun rises. Tony finds an inn, asks for a room, pays cheaply so they're guaranteed one without windows, and leads his two new charges inside before the morning light can touch them.

As the pre-dawn breaks he can see Bucky get fidgety, but the demon stills when he notices Tony's glance. Fine enough. He doesn't look like he's about to go feral, just like he's uncomfortable.

"Steve, get food," Tony tosses a pouch of money at the man, resisting smiling at his shocked face as the purse's weight settles in his hands.

"I'm not leaving Bucky here," Steve says .

"Then feel free to starve, because he can't leave this room today." Tony's tone brooks no argument as he shrugs out of his over jacket.

He unbuckles the belt his sword is attached to setting the whole mess on the small end table provided in thee room, and untucks his undershirt, finally collapsing into a pile on the tatami. Steve furrows his eyebrows at him, but Tony ignores the glare, instead stretching extravagantly and leaning back on his hands.

There's fight in Steve's eyes but Tony isn't in the mood to encourage it. He leans back his head and pretends to sleep, his eyes closed. A long second passes and Steve slams the door to the room shut on his way out.

Tony peaks at Bucky. He has retreated to a corner of the room, knees drawn to his chest. His hair mostly obscures his face, but Tony doesn't need to watch his eyes to see the way the fingers on his good hand tremble.

The hastily made bandage covering his left arm is still wet with blood. It should have dried by now. It should have healed completely by all rights. How many demons had Tony dodged limbs that he had just taken the liberty to remove? A demon's healing factor was one of the things that made fighting them so difficult.

But here Bucky sat, fangs peaking out of his mouth, claws sharpened, yet wound still dripping.

Tony sits back up, facing the demon. Perhaps sensing Tony's focus, Bucky raises his head to stare warily at him. His eyes aren't human but they don't look like a demon's.

"Does your arm hurt?" Tony asks.

Bucky does not respond other than clenching his fingers.

"Blood might help," Tony says before he can stop himself. The pupil in Bucky's eyes constrict. "But if you eat a human, I don't know if there's any saving you."

Tony isn't the one who studies demons, he designs swords and puts them to use. He's never regretted the distance between he and his fellow Pillars more so than now.

Tony clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "I don't know if saving you is even the question here. But if you're willing to try... I will stand behind you."

Bucky furrows his brows, creasing his skin in such a sad manner, but he seems to consider. Tony cannot tell how much Bucky can put together. He doesn't act like demons Tony has met before--fully sentient but capricious, murderous. Bucky is quiet, following where Steve pulls.

But this must be a decision made without Steve, Tony thinks.

"It's your life, you should decide how it's led."

Bucky doesn't answer, just sits in the corner, quiet, until Steve returns.

They travel at night so Bucky doesn't burn and so people are less likely to notice anything odd between the three of them.

Tony has drafted his letters and sent them. One to Fury, one to Bruce. He doesn't acknowledge his nerves as he waits for a response.

It's quite on accident when they stumble across a minor demon celebrating its hunt of a small caravan. Despite Tony's training, the first sign anything is wrong is the way Bucky stiffens.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks as Bucky trembles.

When the wind changes and brings with it the smell of blood, Bucky starts growling low in his throat. Tony's grip is loose, but steady on the hilt of his blade.

"Careful," Tony warns, lowly, and he doesn't know if he's addressing Steve or Bucky.

They keep walking, cautious now, Tony half distracted by Bucky. Still, he soon picks up the crunch of a demon chewing.

"Demon," he says, and Steve's confused eyes widen with dawning realization.

So enraptured with its meal, the demon does not sense Tony and his companions. Twenty or so meters away Bucky halts and refuses to move. Steve seems to be unable of taking his eyes of the demon and its meal. Tony tightens his grip on his sword.

He breaths in, falling into stance, picking one from Pepper's style. It is made to cover distance. Tony expands his lungs and launches forward, hearing the surprised gasps of his companions as he leaves them behind. His blade striked true, cleanly slicing through the demon's neck and its wrists where it held up a hunk of meat to its mouth.

The pain must register after its head slides away from its body because its head is already falling when it starts screaming. It's so loud he nearly misses the sound of steps on the ground.

He brings his sword up just in time to block sharpened claws coming towards him. Another demon? Tony narrows his eyes, swinging his sword. They don't tend to travel in packs.

These demons are far, far below his level and this one falls to his blade as quick as the first had. Nothing short of a Moon demon would falter Tony or his fellow pillars.

Steve yells and Tony whips around to see the shape of another demon attacking the two he'd left behind. He tenses to intervene, but a rough hand on his shoulder stops him. Even now, and Fury still manages to sneak up on him.

He abides only by Fury's insistence and they both watch Steve get bowled over. Steve is too small to put up a fight, he is reedy and thin. Still, he struggles with the small pack he carries and manages to bludgeon the demon enough to distract it.

Bucky takes a step but it is in the wrong direction. Towards the butchered bodies of the caravan.

Tony senses Fury's hand reach for a hidden blade, and this time Tony puts his hand on Fury. Asking him, silently, to watch.

Bucky shakes under the moonlight and Steve thrashes under the third demon.

"You brat!" The demon cries, Steve must have gotten lucky somewhere.

"Buck--Bucky!" Steve yells, not pleading but commanding from his position in the mud and dirt.

It's enough, and Tony isn't skilled enough to quiet his sigh of relief when Bucky flings himself at the demon on Steve.

He kicks it so hard its head goes flying.

“A demon,” Fury says, voice even. Tony still feels like it’s an accusation.

“He has a name,” Steve hisses, indignant. Bucky sits quietly behind Steve.

“He--Bucky,” Tony says in deference to Steve’s squawking, “doesn’t act like any other demon. You’ve seen it.”

Fury doesn’t say anything, only looks at Bucky over Steve’s shoulder. Compelled, Tony continues, “Demons aren’t social, they don’t process emotions the same was as humans. They follow different instincts. But Bucky hasn’t succumbed to his hunger even once, he blatantly prefers having company!” Tony gestures with his words, like he’s scoring his argument.

Is he arguing? Tony just wants Fury to see the potential Tony has seen.

“He’s my brother,” Steve says, “He’s the best man you can ever meet and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like he’s a monster! He’s not one. I’ll prove it to you!” His fists are clenched tightly over his knees, his back straight and determined. He’s short and thin but Tony feels like that wouldn’t stop him from fighting both of them right now if he felt like he had to.

“How can you prove it?” Fury asks.

“I--” Steve cuts off, looking angrily at the pot over the fire. “There’s demons who do hurt people, right? The one who did this to him, the one who hurt our family. We’ll find him and show you! That Bucky’s better, that we can help.”

Fury only hums in acknowledgment of Steve’s declaration, he doesn’t say anything further. Tony sidles closer to the pot and starts serving them all. The stew is thick and smells delicious. He doesn’t know if Steve has noticed, but Fury must have started on this early in the morning and he’s prepared too much for just an individual. He’d been waiting for them, all of them.

He ladles the stew and feels warmth spread through his chest when he notices Fury had added some of the hard to find wood mushrooms Tony had shown a preference for back when he’d studied under the Mist Pillar. Such a small thing, to show someone still had room for you in their life.

Steve takes his bowl, obviously still concerned about the conversation and not like being left without an answer.

As Tony pulls a fourth bowl towards the stew he hears an inquisitive noise and he smiles at Bucky, peaking around Steve’s shoulder. Tony fills the bowl, sprinkles a garnish over it, and puts in a shallow spoon before holding it out to Bucky.

No one has really had a chance to study demons thoroughly, Bruce is really the only one in the field, but it’s general knowledge that demons don’t need to eat proper food, though Tony is sure that they can. Since Bucky isn’t eating a demon’s preferred diet, he can’t imagine offering a substitute would be a terrible idea.

Bucky reaches out to accept the bowl, staring at it for a disconcertingly long amount of time. Tony isn’t sure Bucky realizes it’s for eating, but he holds the bowl with a sort of relish, and Tony surmises that at least he’s enjoying the warmth.

“Start eating,” Fury says abruptly, and Tony realizes that Bucky isn’t the only one not enjoying his meal. Steve startles at Fury’s stern voice. “You’ll need the energy come tomorrow morning.

Steve blinks, confused and Tony can’t stop the laugh that spills between his lips. The way Steve’s blue eyes reflect the fire remind Tony of fireflies over a still pond at night, and he thinks, perhaps the Breath of Mist may find a suitable successor tonight.

The morning comes quickly, perhaps because Tony insists on waking before the rest in the humble house. He gathers his belongings and is working on his shoes, sitting out on the engawa in the dawn’s pre-morning light. He hears shuffling and is not surprised to see Fury walk around the house to meet him. He’d never managed to wake before Fury.

“I thought you may want to watch your strays a little longer,” Fury says.

“They’re in good hands,” he replies, truthfully, but also to see the way Fury’s eyes soften. He turns his attention back to his feet, fingers tapping against them, stalling. “I can’t stay. I’ve got to relay everything back to the other Pillars, inform them about Bucky’s condition.” He smiles wryly at Fury, “Make it sound like he’s not an incredibly unstable, unknowable force of nature.”

“You could write a letter.” Fury says, but with an air that shows he doesn’t particularly think it a wise move.

“If you’re lonely, you can always write me, Nick.”

It’s not an empty offer, but they both know they won’t take it. Neither of them take particularly well to letters. Fury’s distaste comes from a life time of intercepting letters to gather information instilling a practical paranoia in him. If he must he will send a messenger crow with a missive so encrypted and vague it’s almost useless.

Tony finds it difficult to communicate with written words. His greatest strength is disarming people with his words, more than one person has accused him of wriggling his way into their lives, and that’s harder to do when his words come off as dry and clinical.

Tony sighs and stands, checking his sword on his side. “I think he’ll do good with a shield,” he says as he steps onto the packed dirt path through Fury’s small garden. “Don’t get him used to swords, because I won’t be making one of those for him.”

“Don’t tell me how to train the brats you leave on my doorstep,” Fury says to Tony’s back.

#tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #nick fury #kny #demon slayer au #kamaeteWRITES

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years

Text

War of Attrition: Chapter 18

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. You visit an old, dangerous person, knowing full well that you might not come out of the confrontation alive. Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of: past torture, death, blood, weapons. Allusions to PTSD. Word Count: ~4,704 A/N: Not dead, I promise. Finally out of school, though.

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Bucky’s smile was melancholy, too, the destruction of the city a fresh horror in his mind, along with the fear of losing you. Again.

“That’s… that’s good,” he said finally, looking up at you with what could only be adoration.

Your smile turned a little lighter- a little more genuine- and you nodded. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

Bucky was quiet next to you as you walked down the street. He hadn’t talked since you got on the boat to Japan, having long since realized there wasn’t a point in trying to talk you out of your latest endeavor.

Not that you blamed him. Your idea would almost definitely end with you and Bucky being killed or heavily wounded. Still, your conscience didn’t let you sit still after what you’d remembered a few days ago.

A small clearing. Cherry trees blossoming, petals bright even in the gloom of early night. Blood seeping into cherry wood floors. Two smiling faces looking up at you in black and white. Flashing claws of bone. Bucky’s pained groan and steely gaze.

Between the tiny glimpses and uneasy feeling in your gut you’d long suspected you’d done something as the Soldiers, but then you’d woken up in a cold sweat a few weeks ago and told Bucky everything you could before your mind lost the memories again.

The next two weeks had been spent yelling and fighting and eventually you put your foot down, saying you were going to apologize to Logan face to face, regardless of the possible outcomes (most of which, if you were being honest with yourself, entailed ending up in a pool of your own blood).

Bucky twitched as someone turned onto the small street you were walking down, jarring you back into the present. The area was so low-tech that you hadn’t bothered with the nano skin, relying on clothes and sunglasses to keep your enhancements hidden. You had a sinking feeling that trying to hide your true identities would only incense Logan further, and you needed every advantage you could get if you wanted more than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out.

You reached out for Bucky’s hand nearly without thinking, the action subconscious at this point.

“Why’s he gotta live in the middle of nowhere?” Bucky muttered as soon as the civilian was out of earshot. He was still as annoyed about the whole affair as he had been the entire last two days.

You glanced at Bucky for only a second then quickly returned to scanning the area for threats. “Can you really imagine Logan living in the middle of a busy city?” you asked quietly. Bucky only huffed out an annoyed sigh but all that did was make your lips quirk up in a smirk. “‘Sides, this works out better for us anyway.”

“We stick out like sore thumbs,” Bucky countered, annoyance clear as day in his tone.

You shrugged, gently jostling your intertwined hands. “Maybe. I figure an area as pretty as this gets tourists, even if it is a bit rural.”

Bucky’s steel blue eyes finally turned on you, disbelief barely noticeable in the set of his jaw and the lines around his eyes. “They don’t even have electricity out here, Doll.”

You bit back a smirk. “That’s why it took us so long to find ‘im, though. Maybe he’s got the right idea.”

“You’d go insane within the week,” Bucky said flatly, obviously guessing where you were going with that line of thought.

You fought the urge to pout and gently nudged him with your shoulder instead. “Not if I set up next to a river and made a hydro-electric dam for myself. Or finally finished my portable nuclear reactor.”

Bucky’s gaze turned worried and perhaps a shade frantic. “Please don’t do either of those things. I’m beggin’ ya.”

The Brooklyn accent slipped in whenever you caught him off guard and you couldn’t help but smile whenever it returned with a vengeance like that. “Fine, fine. This is our turn, anyhow. Gotta be on alert now.”

Bucky’s face turned stony again and you missed the light in his eyes that had been there just a moment ago as he stared down the narrow dirt road. He was nervous, but you knew his fear wasn’t for his own well being. It was reserved for you.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze which he returned. In perfect synchronization you both stepped forward and began walking down the road.

The farther you walked, the jumpier you and Bucky became. Even with your backscatter vision and Bucky’s enhanced hearing you were loath to underestimate the short, angry man.

The cabin came into vision without incident, though, and a quick backscatter peek inside told you he wasn’t home.

You stopped at the edge of the clearing, skin prickling uncomfortably as your scattered memories overlaid with the present. The house that Logan had built was eerily similar to the one he’d shared with his wife (Itsu. Japanese. Married Logan in 1946. Skilled swordswoman. Pregnant. Clean kill; slash to the throat and stomach. Weapon: Katana.).

You shook the clinical thoughts from your head and tugged Bucky to a stop. He looked down at you warily. “Not here,” you said, answering his unasked question. He nodded, but didn’t relax at all.

“How long do we wait?” he asked eyes darting around the clearing.

You frowned and tried to ground yourself more firmly in the present by leaning against Bucky, who stilled marginally at the contact. “As long as it takes,” you whispered as the image of a happy, young Japanese woman in 40′s clothing flashed in your mind.

The first sign was Bucky tensing next to you, going so still he could be mistaken for a statue. You flicked your eyes to backscatter without hesitation, eyelids closed as you searched every direction, not that you had to look very hard.

Logan was frozen maybe two hundred feet down the path, nostrils flaring and brows drawing low over his eyes.

What surprised you, though, was the metal attached brutally to his skeleton. You’d heard the rumors and scavenged what information you could on the Weapon X program (only to shut it down if you found any traces of it, not that you’d been successful in either capacity). Still, seeing it in person- well, mostly in person- was something else entirely.

You tensed and stood slowly. Bucky was already on his feet and staring down the road at exactly where Logan was, though you knew vision of him would still be blocked by the trees. Any second now Logan would charge through the trees and rip you and Bucky to shreds with those wicked metal-covered claws.

Logan drew a deep breath and you knew if he was any harrier than he already was you’d be able to see his hair stand on end. As it was, he was even tenser than Bucky.

The two of you had barely been able to run away last time and that was before he’d been infused with adamantium. You’d both had a few upgrades between now and 1946, but you doubted that’d mean much in the end.

When he stepped forward calmly, almost serenely, you couldn’t help the surprise that leapt to your face. The sudden change in expression made Bucky glance down at you and, while he looked confused by your reaction, he didn’t relax at all.

In fact, his confused frown only turned into a glower once Logan walked into view.

He paused as soon as he laid eyes on the two of you, dark brown eyes assessing and less hostile than you’d expected. He was maybe a hundred feet/thirty meters away, so close you could reach him in a second if you used your cybernetics.

He looked you and Bucky up and down and you fought the urge to flinch under his stare. The last time you’d seen him he was trying to kill you, and you couldn’t even blame him. You’d just murdered his wife and unborn child, after all.

The silence stretched on for what felt like a small eternity. You’d had so many things you’d wanted to say the moment you saw him, but everything seemed inadequate now that you were looking at him, the weight of your sins bearing down on you like a physical weight.

Then, “Guess I owe Romanoff ten bucks.”

Your eyes widened in shock and even Bucky shifted next to you. You opened your mouth to ask... something, anything... but Logan was already turning away from you and walking towards the house. The old fashioned doors didn’t even have a lock; he merely slid the bamboo doors open and stepped inside, pausing only long enough to take his shoes off.

You and Bucky stared after him in stunned surprise, not expecting that sort of reaction in a hundred years.

“You comin’ in or what?” came a gruff, half-yelled question from inside the house.

Bucky looked at you, uncertainty narrowing his eyes and making that ever-present tension return twofold.

“I doubt you two came from god-knows-where just to sit out there and gawk at my house like a coupla idiots.” He sounded even more annoyed this time.

Your legs moved of their own accord, not having listen to any conscious command from your mind. The house loomed over you as you walked closer but you didn’t dare stop now, afraid you’d turn and run if you stopped to think for a moment.

Bucky was silent but you knew he was following you; he’d already agreed to do this with you, after all, no matter what came.

The house was traditional in nearly every sense of the word. The flats you’d been wearing came off instantly (you felt more comfortable without shoes on, anyway) and Bucky’s muddy, scuffed boots followed a half second later. You used backscatter to find Logan and tilted your head in the right direction so Bucky would know where to go.

You’d half expected to find a TV or refrigerator or microwave, but every modern appliance was missing. The sitting room Logan was in had a tatami mat floor with a single low, long table and a few pillows for sitting. The floor and table were nice, obviously hand-crafted with care, but the pillows were old and raggedy.

Logan was already sitting at the far end of the table, looking almost lazy as he leaned against it, though his eyes were sharply assessing as you and Bucky appeared in the doorway.

“So? Who am I talking to? The Barneses or the Winter Soldiers?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, almost disinterested.

You winced and opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All of those hours spent agonizing over what you’d say, how you’d apologize, and now that you were finally here-

Logan scoffed and reached into a small box on the table. Bucky shuffled, obviously expecting a weapon, but your hand on his arm stilled him instantly.

“Guess that answers that,” he said flatly. Logan pulled out a long cigar and cut it with the tip of a metal-covered claw, which peeked out of the skin between his knuckles and flashed ominously in the low light. The sharp edge disappeared back into his skin, though, and you and Bucky both relaxed ever so slightly. “Sit down, assholes,” he said gruffly as he placed the cigar between his lips and lit it with a match from a book he pulled from his pocket.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. You could tell from a split-second assessment that he was still unsure about how this would end. But... if Logan was going to attack he would have by now... right?

A second later you stepped forward, tugging a reluctant Bucky with you. You sat at the opposite end of the table from Logan, who was watching the two of you closely.

You settled down on a lumpy pillow and Bucky sat down next to you, forgoing a pillow in lieu of being as close to you as possible. You could tell he didn’t like having his back to a door, but the walls were made of paper and thin wood- it wasn’t like you couldn’t make an escape in any direction if the need arose.

The silence stretched on again, with neither you nor Bucky able to come up with a coherent sentence. Logan puffed quietly at his cigar, seemingly content to let the two of you stew in silence.

“Y’know, if I got cell service out here I woulda called Rogers and Romanoff by now.”

You and Bucky froze again, eyes widening slightly. It was Bucky who managed to talk first. “You’ve been- They contacted you?” he asked, not quite able to keep the fear out of his voice.

Logan let out a long exhale and you fought the urge to wrinkle your nose at the smoke. “They thought you two might come knockin’. Guess they know you better‘n ya think.” That made both you and Bucky clam up, unsure of what to say next. This wasn’t going how either of you thought it would. When it was clear neither of you would speak any time soon, Logan let out an annoyed huff. “I don’t have enough saké for this...” he muttered, running a rough hand down his face. When he looked at you again, his eyes were a bit harder. “And I don’t got all day, either. Speak up or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You frowned and reached for Bucky’s hand, needing the comfort it provided to get you through what you were about to say. He met you halfway and gave you a gentle squeeze that bolstered you enough that you were able to find the courage to speak, though your gaze was fixed on the table.

“How much do you know?” you asked, almost fearing the answer.

Logan puffed on his cigar and took his time responding. “Natasha and Rogers handed me a file. Told me everything they knew, which I’m guessing isn’t even the half of it. Still, there were enough damn nightmares in that folder that, for the first time in seventy years, I didn’t wanna kill ya.” Your and Bucky’s gazes flicked to him then, surprise lining your features. Logan took one look at you and scoffed. “Don’t go gettin’ all doe eyed, ya damn idiots. You’re way too old and badass to be lookin’ like that.”

Your mouth twitched up in a sort of aborted smile, but your frown returned with a vengeance. “We’re sorry. I know words can never make up for what we did... what I did-” Bucky made a distressed, angry noise beside you, but your gaze was glued to Logan. “-But we are.” You scooted away from Bucky and got on your knees, then slowly lowered your forehead to the ground, hands set on either side of your head. A second later you felt Bucky shift next to you and you could glimpse him mirroring your position out of the corner of your eye. Lowering his guard like this in front of Logan must have been killing him, but he stayed doggedly in place.

For a second, there was only the sound of Logan smoking his cigar, but you didn’t have long to wait. “Dogeza? Really? Get up, you fucking idiots,” he sounded irritated and conflicted.

You raised your head at the same time Bucky did and immediately gravitated back towards his side. His arm was around your waist a second later and you practically melted into his side.

Logan was glaring at the two of you and you fought the urge to grab Bucky and run. He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. “I know what happened wasn’t your damn fault. That much was clear.” Another pause, then, “A lot of shit happened after that night. The kid lived, then tried to kill me at least a half dozen times. I got experimented on. Fell in love a few times. Got married to a woman who wanted to kill me. Joined the X-Men and dealt with their bullshit for a few decades...” he trailed off, annoyance obviously growing by the second. He blinked once or twice and seemed to refocus on you and Bucky. “Point is, between what’s happened to me and what Rogers and Natasha told me... I ain’t gonna hold it against you.”

You knew you were staring at Logan, slack-jawed, but you couldn’t help it. Never in a million years did you expect this response and- “But how, Logan? I killed her and she-”

Logan’s face turned thunderous. “If you could go back right now- to that night- would you do it again? Slit her throat with her own katana and leave her to die in a pool of her own blood?”

You flinched as if struck by a physical blow, memories flashing behind your eyes. “No-” your voice failed for a second and you had to swallow thickly. “No, I wouldn’t- I don’t want to-” Your words failed you again and you barely registered Bucky pulling you to his chest.

Logan’s face returned to something a little more neutral. If you weren’t mistaken, his deep brown eyes were a little sad. “Yeah, well, there’s the answer, right? Wasn’t you; wasn’t your choice.”

Bucky was running his hands gently over your arms, an obvious attempt to ground and comfort you. Your eyes, however, were fixed on Logan’s deceptively relaxed form. “But I did it,” you breathed. Now that Logan had all but forgiven you, you found yourself at a loss. Why didn’t he hate you? He should. You should have just stopped talking and taken what he gave you, but you almost needed his hate. You deserved it.

“Yeah, you did.” His voice was carefully neutral, not accusatory, just stating a fact.

“Then why?” Your voice was strained, your mind unable to process what was happening.

Logan sighed, wafting a large plume of smoke into the room. “Nah, we’re not gonna talk each other in circles all night. I’ve said my piece and you’ve said yours.” You stared at him, wanting to say more, but he continued speaking before you could. “How’d you find me? More of your tech mumbo jumbo?”

The sudden change of subject had you reeling and Bucky recovered before you.

“Wade,” he said hoarsely.

Logan looked truly annoyed now. “Wade? As in Wade Wilson?” he growled.

Bucky’s smile was more of a grimace. “The one and only.”

“And how the hell does that bastard know where I am?” He looked peeved at the very prospect.

You shrugged. “Dunno. I asked if he’d seen you around lately and he said he’d- and I quote- ‘ask Tin Man to call in a favor with Wheels’.“

Logan groaned, took the cigar from his mouth with one hand, and ran his other hand down his face in exasperation. “I hate that kid. Doesn’t know when to shut up... S’pose he could be worse, though...” The look on Logan’s face was a little haunted and you wondered, momentarily, what Wade had done to him. When you’d talked to him a few weeks ago Wade had been polite to a fault, if not a bit weird. You’d had trouble keeping up with whatever he was talking about, but the moment you’d asked for help locating Logan he’d said “Whatever it takes to help move the plot along! You haven’t had a new chapter in weeks!” You’d stared at him as though he’d grown a second head, but he got on his cell phone and within ten minutes you had Logan’s location. One long drive and a nauseating boat ride later and you were in Japan.

Logan groaned and nearly bit his cigar in half. “Shit, I need to move. I just finished the damn tatami, too.” He ran a hand over the mats covering the floor, scowling at them as though it was somehow the floor’s fault.

You grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t know how else to find you.“

Logan waved a hand, dismissing your apology. “It’s done now. Didn’t plan on stayin’ here forever anyway.” He reached the end of his cigar and snubbed the end against his palm, wincing only slightly before placing the small, gently-smoking end on the table.

You shifted nervously, unsure of what to do now that you’d more or less gotten your thoughts and feelings across to Logan. Bucky ended up deciding for you and stood, extending a hand to help you up once he was on his feet. You stared at the paper wall, trying your best to avoid Logan’s assessing gaze and Bucky’s concerned looks. “We’ll... be on our way, then. We don’t want to impose any more than we already have. Goodbye, Logan.” You turned to leave with Bucky following closely behind, but Logan’s gruff voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

This was it. This was when he unsheathed those deadly sharp claws and tried to kill both of you. You tensed and turned around slowly, not wanting to startle Logan into attacking any sooner than necessary.

“I’m sorry.” Logan’s face was twisted into a grimace, as though the words hurt him to say.

Those two words shocked you so thoroughly that your arms dropped limply to your side and you felt your shoulders slump. You knew your mouth was open and your eyes were wide but you couldn’t do anything about that just then.

Logan’s dark eyes met yours and you could tell it was him that was having trouble keeping eye contact now. “I shoulda looked for you. Both of you.” He glanced up at Bucky, who shifted restlessly next to you, likely caught even more off guard by Logan’s declaration than you, as they’d never really gotten along. “By the time Dugan told me what happened, Rogers had already put the plane in the ice. I knew it was suspicious that we hadn’t found either of you, even if it was in the middle of nowhere. I was one’a the only people who probably coulda found ya, and I didn’t. Didn’t even try. I shoulda-” he growled, and reached into the cigar box, prepping his next cigar in a flash. Barely a few seconds later he had the fat cigar in his mouth, scowl lining his brow.

“Thanks for saying that, Logan, but it ain’t nobody’s fault but Hydra’s.” Bucky’s voice was the softest you’d ever heard it when speaking to Logan and the shorter man glared at him, probably feeling as awkward as Bucky had felt at Logan’s words.

“And Logan?” you said with a small frown.

“Mm?” Logan grunted, brown eyes flicking back to your face, brow quirked ever-so-slightly in question.

“If you ever want to talk- or need some backup- you got two people who understand and will be more than willing to help.” You tried to give him what you hoped was a kind smile, though happy expressions were hard to make unless it was Bucky eliciting them.

“Not that we’re exactly the picture of mental health,” Bucky added dryly.

That, at least, drew an amused snort from Logan. “You and me both, pal,” he said gruffly. “So, what? You gonna give me some piece of crap cellphone with your number in it, too?” When you raised an eyebrow Logan rummaged around in one of his jacket’s pockets, eventually managing to extricate an ancient flip phone. He held it in the air and waved it once before shoving it back in his pocket. “Rogers gave it to me in case I managed to get a lead on you two.”

That made you frown and you fought the urge to fry it to pieces; that would almost definitely lead to a fight between you and Logan. However, you had a hunch that you were eager to prove. “But you’re not gonna tell them anything.”

Logan sighed out a puff of smoke. “Nope.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and regarded Logan with a quizzical expression. “Why not?”

It was only after he took another puff of his cigar and blew it into the air that he responded. “Because you don’t wanna be found.”

You and Bucky stared at him for a moment then exchanged disbelieving glances before returning your gazes to him. “Just like that?” you asked with a small frown. It was too good to be true. All of this was. Neither of you were that lucky. Hell, Logan wasn’t that lucky.

Logan’s gaze turned hard. “Guess there is one more part. If you two go off the rails again it’ll be my duty to stop you.”

You felt your blood run cold at the thought. As far as you knew, the number of people who could stop you and Bucky could be counted on your hands at this point. One of them was definitely Logan.

It made sense, though. He was honorable. By letting you go now he was at least partially responsible for anything you did from this point onward. If Hydra got a hold of you again or if both of you regressed... he’d hunt you down.

“That’s fair,” you said after a pregnant pause, mouth in a hard, grim line. Bucky shifted restlessly next to you, upset at the prospect but knowing that, ultimately, it was probably for the best. “I don’t think either of us would want-” you bit your lip, eyes once again falling to the mats.

“If we become the Soldiers again, that’s for the best,” Bucky said quietly. You glanced at him, but he was staring Logan dead in the eyes, jaw set grimly.

Logan nodded once to him before his eyes flicked to you, features softening a bit. “Go on, then. I’d offer you a room fro the night, but I know you’re itching to get outta here.” The words could have been harsh, but they were said with just a bit too much fondness for them to come off that way.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said earnestly. Bucky nodded his agreement, blue-grey eyes tumultuous.

He barked out a laugh. “That’s not my real name, y’know.”

You frowned, not in on the joke that had made him laugh. “I wasn’t aware ‘Logan’ was a false name.”

Logan’s grin turned a little smug. “Name’s James.”

That drew a startled laugh out of you and even a glance at Bucky revealed his lip shad turned up in a begrudging smile. “‘Course it is...” he muttered, not quite managing to sound annoyed.

Your laughs quieted after a moment, leaving an uncomfortable silence in their wake. Unspoken comments about how rare laughs came these days and how young you sounded when you did hung stale in the air between you, but you put on a small smile. “See you ‘round, Jimmy,” you said, tossing him a wink you hoped was playful and not flirty before turning and heading for the door.

Bucky snorted and you could hear Logan groan. The guys didn’t speak for a second (you were sure you’d be able to hear them through the paper-thin walls if they had), but after a pause, Logan grumbled a “See you, bub,” which was the closest you’d ever heard Logan get to sounding fond when it came to Bucky.

Another pause, then, “Be safe, old man.”

An annoyed grumble. “I only got thirty five years on ya, ya fucking shithead.”

You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. That was so close to how you remembered their interactions being back in the day that it nearly shocked you back seventy years. The sarcastic response you were half expecting didn’t come, however, and Bucky was beside you a moment later, taking his time to lace up his boots carefully while you waited just outside the door, watching the area for any threats.

“Ready to go?” he asked a moment later as he stepped up beside you. His blue-grey eyes searched your face for any flicker of emotion that would set off warning bells, but for the first time in a long time, your head wasn’t a complete mess. Or, at least, you had one burden among hundreds taken from your shoulders.

“Yeah, Buck. Let’s go home.”

Next Chapter

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #war of attrition #winter's war series #logan #james howlett

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whitewolfbumble · 6 years

Text

The Fallout - Prologue (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Talk of nightmares and (minimally) human experiments, some fighting (ala Civil War), tiny bit of language.

Word Count: About 3k

A/N: Hello my precious blueberries. Welcome to the prologue before the start of The Fallout! You can skip to Part One if you so choose really, this sets up where in the MCU timeline we are, along with you backstory, and the first meeting with you & Bucky. I haven’t written anything in forever so please let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged!! A reblog, like, or message would mean so much!

MY MASTERLIST // THE FALLOUT MASTERLIST

They had found you some time ago. To be specific about it, Steve had found you some time ago. It felt like another lifetime to you now. But you tried not to keep track of the amount of lifetimes you felt you’d lived.

Back in those days the Avengers would catch wind of something about to go down, but time and time again you would beat them to the punch, as it were.

They would show up just as you left, expecting to find an enemy to take down or situation to get under control. But they would instead discover a group of enemies roped together (usually unconscious and somewhat undamaged) and the day saved. You had tried to put the killing behind you… as much as the gangs and groups you tracked down would allow.

The Team would show up and you would vanish, leaving only the whispers of any onlookers who caught a glimpse of you. Tearing apart buildings and bodies was never much of a public activity of yours, but whispers followed your wake nonetheless.

There weren’t any civilian casualties to your missions so you were never high on any official watch list. Just a ghost that went from city to city, popping up in one country then the next, somehow knowing where the trouble would be. Often just before the Avengers knew it and always just enough time to get it done yourself before they flew in.

It was a game you had played for quite a while.

But Steve knew what this looked like. He understood who could train someone to do this, with the stealth, boldness, and efficiency like you did. He had said as much when he finally caught you.

“How long were you with them?”

There was no real condemnation in his voice surprisingly, but understandingly. It was the first time you had met the infamous boy scout face to face. You figured he would be a self-righteous prick but, like all that met him, that notion was quickly dispelled.

You had wanted to distrust him more than you inherently did, like you did everyone. Even when you lined up side-by-side the destruction and bloodshed you had caused lately versus the kind yet firm voice of Steve Rogers, something didn’t add up. There was another variable that made him a little softer than expected, you just didn’t know what yet.

“You would’ve read my file. Guess,” you said, not exactly unkind.

Maybe it was a combination of his kind eyes and voice that prompted your invitation for him to pry deeper. Why ever you said that to him, you didn’t know. You decided in a moment that you didn’t want a gentle man like him to look too far into your past after all.

He thought briefly nodding slightly as he took your advice and began to take a crack at it. “Not all of them had pictures–”

“You’re right. The worst of their experiments didn’t.”

You figured out later what it meant for Steve to find you. You were a step to something greater. You didn’t take offense to it, on the contrary; you joined in, firm and resolute when he told you why you were so important. And after years that would hopefully be coming to fruition today.

“Keep sharp, they’re not going to be far behind,” said the voice in your earpiece.

“Understood,” you whispered back. A heavy slam followed your words.

Entering the small apartment with a heavy kick to the wood door, you didn’t stop to look around or search for anyone. The only movement was the cloud of dust brushing up around you when the door hit the wall. You knew no one would be here, your recon earlier proving this specific unit was abandoned.

Special forces weren’t going to be exactly gentle in this situation but they would be a lot slower than you. You also needed to be a lot more subtle than them too.

Subtle being relative, you noted as you kicked in the back door, a gust of cool air flooding you and the stale space.

The musty little apartment you were in had been abandoned like most in the decrepit building, offering a perfecting “jumping off poing” as it were.

This place was perfect for someone lying low, you noted, appreciating how smart a move this was for the man you were after.

“I’m about to enter the apartment, I’ll confirm once I’m in,” you said, hushed. “Or you’ll hear a big metal fist hitting my face and the cracking bones will tell you.”

“Please,” Sam started, flying somewhere above you as you gauged the balcony one floor below you and one to the left. “Like he could possibly get a shot at you, even if he was in there. And that would mean you were wrong about him being gone. For the record, also not happening. I’d stake my wings on it.”

“Yeah, except that is exactly how you would want your apartment to appear if you were actually there,” you said, looping and securing your grappling device onto the railing then to the back of your belt.

You slipped on your gloves: jagged metal on your knuckles but a gripping ribbed plastic on the fingers and palms.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” Steve said on the comm line, somewhere below you. You pulled yourself up on the railing crouching and keeping low, steadying yourself in the slight wind. The fourteen stories between you and ground didn’t factor into your mind at all, eyes and mind focused. “We’re here as back up. This is only recon. We only need confirmation for now.“

“Is that how you stayed alive all these years?” Sam questioned, ignoring Steve. “Paranoia dialed up?”

You still stayed fixed on the balcony you intended to leap too, muscles tensing as you readied yourself.

“Probably,” you said before throwing yourself off of the ledge.

A rush of cold wind whipped your face and whizzed in your ears, the sudden feeling of falling fast lurching your stomach into your throat. Arms out, you grasped on to the metal railing of the intended balcony with a bone-jarring thud and used your soaring momentum to throw your body head first over it, flipping in one smooth motion and rolling to your feet. You ended up in a crouched position on the balcony floor, with the feeling of your stomach now at your feet before it snapped back in place.

Immediately you pressed yourself to the side of the balcony, flush against the cold, rough brick. Silently you pulled your gun out and stood up, unlatching the safety line from your belt. Looking through the small back door window into the apartment you saw the curtains somewhat drawn, leaving the interior dimly lit with a soft orange glow.

Exactly how you would have left it.

Getting in wasn’t a problem- most places couldn’t keep you out no matter how hard they tried- and certainly not a 50-year-old rusty porch door in Bucharest.

Whisper quiet you walked in, measured footsteps grounded and stable like you were waiting for a shadow to leap out and kick your legs out from under you at any moment.

You weren’t nervous, not really, it was more habit than anything. Or maybe experience was a better word for it. People dropping out of the shadows to try and kill you was all too habitual for you. Or it used to be anyways. But old habits die hard.

You made quick work of the tiny interior. Nothing in any rooms, no one to be found. ”I’m in. All clear.”

The dark apartment was dingy and homey. Soft light bleared through the old tattered curtains, lighting up small patches of the equally old space in a dusty haze. A mismatch of outdated paint and yellowed wallpaper lined the creaky, cramped apartment. Everything was basic and old and used. Little food, no real clothes, a tattered blanket on a threadbare mattress. It was lived in, with the worn look of memories rotting every inch of it.

You immediately liked it, in a sad kind of way. This would be a place you would pick too. A place you felt you deserved. Dated and forgotten.

You made your way back the door again to start your search and stopped in the kitchen first. Your mission was not to find the owner necessarily, but to confirm the intel was correct that this was his place.

You picked up a small brown notebook off of the top of the low fridge. Carefully you turned it over before gently opening the pages. Small cramped writing was within, sometimes long continuous blocks of words filled page upon page, sometimes short little pieces only a couple lines each were here and there. Small little coloured stickers stuck to some of the pages, obviously there to keep track of something of significance. You turned to a red one, part way through the book.

“…Coney Island Cyclone six times. We got sick but were laughing right after for some reason. The girls had left us after the third time around…”

Memories, you thought to yourself. This was a book of memories.

“Y/N?” Steve said while you kept reading.

“The intel was right, this is his place,” you said in a whisper.

“Confirmed?”

“Confirmed,” you said, holding the open notebook in your hand. “I’m going to need a few minutes.”

“For what? We don’t have long. If it’s his place he’ll be close and we have to find him before the German Special Forces are on his trail.”

You turned over a few more pages, fingers and eyes trailing down the small little words.

“Then you should go,” you whispered. “I need to follow up with a few things here.”

“Y/N, you’re our best way of tracking him, I need—”

“I haven’t… secured the area,” you said, not really any truth to that. “I need to make sure there aren’t any… traps for unwanted visitors. Particularly if the police decide to knock on the door.”

You shrugged to no one, making up some excuse to stay put. You knew he would be back, and you knew this whole mission wouldn’t work if the team overwhelmed him.

“Alright,” Steve agreed after a moment. “Sam will keep an eye above. Y/N, update me immediately if anything happens.”

You nodded in acknowledgment.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, agreed,” you sighed slightly. Somethings go without saying, just not on this team.

You continued to stay motionless in the kitchen, reading the little booklet that was left behind. You knew he would come back for it. This was precious. You only write down memories for a limited number of reasons. He wouldn’t leave this unattended long.

You didn’t tell Steve your gut instinct about this as you didn’t want to get his hopes up. Really, very few of the possible outcomes you could think of actually ended well. So you waited alone.

“… stabbed in the side, throat crushed. There were two witnesses, his wife and their child, and I shot both in…”

“… injections in both thighs with a deep green liquid, making me convulse uncontrollably. Searing pain began from my hips to my feet. I begged them to cut off my legs but they didn’t respond. They never did. The pain didn’t stop until after the sun when down…”

“… train car alone, cargo carrying boxes of cheap plastic toys. It was dark and freezing and traveling somewhere in the woods…”

“…. and I couldn’t control it. I resisted until I blacked out but they tried again and I wasn’t able to stop it…”

Your back had been to the front door the whole time, but you didn’t need any indication that he was there. He made no sound, and nor did you. He would’ve known you were in the apartment before he entered, just as you knew when he came in and stood behind you now.

“Head’s up, Y/N, German Special Forces approaching from the south,” came Sam’s voice.

You paused, debating on responding and interrupting the silence that now hung heavy and thick in the air.

“Understood,” you said quietly, placing the notebook back on the fridge and turned around slowly.

He stood there in front of you, your mind snapping his face into the memories you had of him. Those memories were old and worn and blurred. They still stung you white hot in your dreams sometimes, but the faces in those memories had faded over the years.

The sudden wave of remembrance bound you in like a vice, twisting and weaving pain into your muscles, sinking deeper and deeper. It was like for a brief moment you were back there, reliving them from the beginning. For a second there was such clarity to those memories that you haven’t had in decades.

But you looked beyond his face to his eyes, and the murky twisted face that usually filled your unconsciousness shifted back into its usual place, before the image of the nightmares faded from your mind completely.

His eyes were different than what you remembered. Vastly different from what you had seen all those years ago.

Deep and blue and searching your own eyes for something, he looked at you. In them there was no threat. He held your stare with his own, guarded and with a muted desperation of trying to place you.

He didn’t remember you.

Your blurry memories had come flooding back in a second, but his had not. You weren’t a painful memory behind his eyes or written in his little brown notebook. He didn’t remember.

For some reason, you instantly felt lighter at that. The pain of your shared experiences would have weighed heavily on you both and you had been bracing yourself for it. You were relieved that it never came.

You immediately took him in, wondering about the next move. You knew yours wouldn’t be violent if you could help it. He was breathing fast, but body looked to be relaxed enough for the situation. He stood wearing a simple cap, red shirt, and brown coat. No weapon, no clenched fists, not even in a posed position ready to leap into violence. He was oddly still, obviously fighting the desire to kick into fight or flight.

He probably didn’t know why either. But you did.

“Do you know me?” you asked simply, your voice smooth and low.

His breath was still quick, you could practically smell his adrenalin mixed with that telltale super soldier heat.

“No, I don’t,” His voice was deep and growly, but it wasn’t completely sure. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“They’ve set the perimeter,” came Sam’s distant voice in your earpiece again.

“I know you’re nervous,” you said taking a small step forward. “And you have plenty of reason to be… But you know that’s not true, Bucky.”

Regardless of whether or not Bucky remembered you from his past, you were an Avenger… of sorts (or that’s at least how you thought of it).

You weren’t shiny, or in the spotlight, or a poster child of good deeds. To the public you were quiet and dark and kept back, hood covering you up and eyes always down. Generally the populous didn’t bother you much as most were too afraid of you anyway. All for good reason.

Maybe he could ignore any semblance of memory, but not when you were face to face here. He knew from the media that you were Hydra, twisted and broken like he had been by them, and that you had escaped their death grip on your body and mind.

At any rate, he would know from the TV coverage what brought you here and could guess your allegiance.

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don’t do that anymore,” He shook his head once, slightly, body getting tenser by the minute.

“They’re entering the building,” Sam buzzed.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now,” Another step closer, your voice a kind warning. “And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

He nodded, understanding. Defeat was behind his eyes. And you didn’t think it was for his impending fate, but the souls that were going to try and take him down. A pang of understanding hit you.

“Smart,” he said, shifting. “Good strategy.”

Right on cue came Sam’s next warning was followed by footsteps coming from the ceiling above you. Both of your eyes broke apart from each other and shot upward for a moment.

“They’re on the roof, I’m compromised.”

Bucky turned to the right and walked towards the other side of the room, his fist now clenched and breath sighing.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Bucky.”

He sighed and you could see the defeat in him rolling through his body, uncoiling and recoiling his now posed muscles.

“It always does.”

“Thirty seconds, Y/N.”

Shit. You needed more time. Your goal had been to get here and convince him he could have a life. Build new memories. And not do it alone. You weren’t convinced of your resolve until you saw him. The real him. Not the one you had known or the one they had made him be.

“You don’t want to live like this anymore, do you?” you asked quickly, needing to at least try and reach him before this all went to hell. “You could have gone back to them, but you didn’t. If you still want to fight than why are you here?”

He looked up, pained and guarded. “I don’t know.”

You all but closed the distance between the both of you, walking within his metal arms’ reach.

“Because you don’t want this anymore!” you implored. “I got out Bucky, I did. You know you can too. You can return to who you were. It’s possible, I’m proof of that.”

And then everything went to shit.

One grenade crashed through the small kitchen window and immediately your emotions shut down and you kicked it into high gear.

In a split second you slid back over the small kitchen bar and reached to grab frying pan off of the stove. You swooped down to scoop the grenade back out the window when another came through the window next to Bucky.

He reached down, grabbed it, and threw it at you as you swung around, knocking it back out the window with the frying pan. But just barely.

“Really? C’mon,” you said. Such a dick move.

Hearing yelling from outside and figuring you probably couldn’t reel in an ex-Hydra super soldier alone, plus fight the full force of the German Special Forces team, all while simultaneously not managing to kill either party.

Killing them would’ve been quick and easy. But this you had your doubts at.

“Steve, I have an update!” you shouted, as Bucky one-handedly threw the dining room table down the hall, blocking both the door and the soldiers looking to get in.

But two soldiers crashed through the windows and you both simultaneously punched them out in one hard blow to the face. He might have a metal arm, but you came prepared with your own brass knuckle gloves.

The jagged metal met the face of the nearest soldier and you fought your instincts to both keep fighting him and keep fighting everyone else until they all stayed down.

You didn’t need to shout commands or tell Bucky what you were doing, you knew you both would be thinking of the same thing. Call it your shared Hydra upbringing.

You wretched open the back door just in time for the solider to come in gun first. You grabbed it hard and pulled, sending him careening forward until Bucky’s appeared beside you, his fist slamming into the soldier’s chest and sent him flying back two feet in the air and almost right off the balcony’s edge.

You reached out and grabbed Bucky, eyes wide. Did he have any control in a fight? You couldn’t remember exactly when you came out of it, but even with some shared experiences and similar reflexes, you were still decidedly not the same people.

“Bucky, stop! You’re going to kill someone!” Pot calling the kettle black right there, but whatever.

“Y/N, I’ve engaged! Working my way up to you,” Shots and grunts sounded in the background of Steve’s voice.

Bucky whirled around with a metal arm crashing into your chest and slamming you down to the ground hard. For a moment his body was poised above you, his own chest heaving against yours. Again he brought his metal arm up and fist clenched he drove it down into the floor, just an inch away from your face.

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” He reached into the newly made hole in the floor, pulled out a bag and threw it clean out of the apartment to the building across the street.

And from the look in his eyes, you believed him. His eyes were endlessly deep and pained. But the pain wasn’t for himself.

Maybe he did have control.

“Alright,” you nodded, agreeing with him, just as Steve crashed in and the next wave hit the three of you full force.

PART ONE

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfic #bucky fanfiction #marvel fanficion #marvel au #bucky au #avengers #avengers!au #civil war #winter soldier #the fallout

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hoekins · 6 years

Text

HAWKINS 11

i felt soft so here u go

pairing: mike wheeler x oc (steve’s sister)

warning: mention of ptsd, mention of underage drinking, a curse word, and mentions of penises lmaO

request | prompts | masterlist

2k words

REAL PERSONAL ISSUES

Stacy looked down at her shaking hands. At first, her friends thought the question was harmless, and perhaps was only asked out of sheer curiosity. But the more they watched her fingers twitch and her eyes gloss, they figured there must be more to it that none of them have caught up on. Maybe it’s because Stacy has always looked as if nothing bothered her, like she was always above whatever tried to bring her down. They remember when she and Mike went at each other’s necks every chance they got, and Mike has in fact said things that must have hurt her. Still, they have yet to see her so defenseless like this.

Max stammered, “Y-you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to— o-of course.” She looked around at everyone, waiting for someone to follow up and agree with her to at least comfort Stacy.

“It’s fine.” Stacy let out an exhale that seemed to come far deeper than she thought. “It actually wasn’t my choice to move back. I had to.” She blinked at her hands and licked her lips as a nervous tick. “B-basically, I had an accident back in Sydney. I fell down a- a trap in like- the woods. There was one that was to trap the er, boars and stuff, so-“ a hand reached up to her hair as an unexpected breath left her mouth, “so yeah, I fell down there.”

No one knew how to react. Stacy looked around the circle only to realize that all eyes were on her just as she let out what sounded like a strangled chuckle. She wanted to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. She thought it wouldn’t be, especially after what these kids have been through, her little accident seemed smaller and less important all of a sudden.

“But yeah, they don’t really check in on those traps every hour, yeah? S-so I was- I was in there for... the police said 4 hours but it felt like more than that to me. Really, when you fall down a narrow hole and then you look up and all you see is the night sky blocked by dark leaves, it’s— it can drive you wild, really.” Stacy bit her lip, “At the hospital, they rushed me in for oxygen ‘cos I was running out, and apparently I was hallucinating because of it. It’s understandable though, because it was like I was buried alive.”

Mike winced as Stacy forced another chuckle out of her mouth. He understood that she was just trying to make the most out of the situation, but he also felt like she was trying to compensate for something.

“Apparently, it’s protocol to check me in with a psychiatrist to, you know, make sure I’m, er, okay. I was, physically, but the nightmares were really- they were there. I showed signs of post-traumatic stress disorder but to prevent actually developing it, the psych advised that I leave Sydney until I feel better about the experience.” Stacy pursed her lips, “So yeah, I couldn’t really go back to Sydney even if you guys wanted me to, at first.”

Dustin didn’t think anyone noticed when he shot Mike a glance. Mike felt strongly about shoving Stacy back to Sydney, so he can’t imagine what Stacy must have felt when Mike went off on her. Dustin just wanted to hug Stacy and apologize over and over again for that stunt he pulled at the pool. He wasn’t thinking.

“But it’s actually better now.” Stacy cracked a smile as her voice raised in pitch. “After some tests, it turned out I can see better in the dark now and I have stronger memory. It’s weird.” She adds. “Oh! And I remember I walked in the woods with you guys and I didn’t feel scared. Maybe because it was daytime,” a melodious laugh left Stacy, only this time it felt more genuine. “Okay, that’s it, it’s not an amazing reason or whatever-“

Stacy let out a tiny oof, as Will strangled her in a tight hug. Dustin didn’t even think about scooting closer and wrapping his own stubby arms around the girl. Max couldn’t let herself not join the hug and after she did, Lucas and Mike found themselves joining the giant friend hug as well. Mike remembered when he jumped off a cliff only for El to save her, and then he shared a hug with her and Dustin. That hug was like this, except for some reason, he felt different—like he could breathe better. He didn’t understand either, but instead of running away from the bizarre feeling like he did the last time, he only wrapped his arms tighter around his friends and closed his eyes to savor the feeling.

Until a muffled voice let out, “Er- guys.”

With a chuckle, they all unlatched themselves from the embrace and sat back down in a circle to continue the game. The moon rose higher up the sky as the friend group laughed along to all the stupid things they did that night— stupid things that would take them a long, long time to forget. Gazing wistfully at her friends, Stacy thought that even though the accident scarred her in more ways than one, it at least led her back to Hawkins and eventually to her friends.

“Rise and shine, chickens!” Steve announces to everyone in Stacy’s room as he pulls the curtains to the sides. Sunlight practically blinds everyone, forcing sleep out of their system.

Max is the first to sit up, rubbing her eyes and groaning sleepily. They all stayed up pretty late. After a long game of spin the bottle, they raided Stacy’s VHS collection and entertained themselves with horror movies until one by one, they fell asleep. The four boys snoozed comfortably on Stacy’s bed where surprisingly enough, all of them fit snugly while Stacy and Max enjoyed a mattress on the floor.

“Why do you look like you’re hungover?” Steve rhetorically asks until he snaps his head to glare at his sister. “Stacy!”

“What?” She asks back. “No one drank anything but water, milk, and cranberry juice! Jesus, Steve, it was one time.”

Max turns over to her best friend, fighting off a laugh, “You got caught drunk?”

“No! I wasn’t drunk, I was just drinking. And the adults were fine with it,” Stacy shrugged. “Steve drank underage too, anyway.”

“Well yes,” Steve butts in, “but don’t corrupt these children!” He says as if Stacy isn’t just a year or so older than her friends.

“Ok, mother Steve.” Stacy stands up and folds her blanket before locking herself up in her bathroom to do her business.

“It’s already noon, come on, guys.” Steve huffs, hitting the four boys on the bed with a pillow he found on the floor.

He hits Dustin on the nose, eliciting an aggressive, “Fuck you, Steve!”

Steve narrows his eyes, putting down his weapon of choice to give Dustin a strong glare. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, but you were hitting too close to my pearls.” Dustin sighs, rubbing his eyes and wincing at the bright sunlight. It is already noon, after all.

“Come on, guys, wake up. I don’t want Joyce to pick Will up and think I don’t feed her son and his friends.” Steve mutters as he shakes Will and Lucas. “Lucas... Lucas. Lucas, you have a penis on your forehead.”

After some voodoo dark magic, Steve gets all six teenagers in the dining area, scarfing down the nice brunch he prepared for them that consists of toast, bacon, eggs, and some grapes he found in the fridge.

“What time did you guys even sleep?” Steve questions, willing himself not to laugh at the half-asleep group in front of him.

“I was the last to sleep at 5,” Stacy shrugs. She glances shortly at Lucas and asks no one in particular, “Who’s going to tell him?”

“Tell who what?” Lucas asks nonchalantly. He probably didn’t hear Steve when he tried to tell the poor boy.

“That you have three penises on your face.” Mike snorts through his milk.

“Three penises on my— Dustin!” Lucas shrieks and hurries to stand up, chasing after the already running Dustin.

“You will never catch me and my pearls. Rrrrrr— AHHHHHHH!”

“I’ll be at the living room.” Steve says with a shake of his head.

“The restroom’s over there, right?” Will asks. Stacy hums a yes as Will stands up and leaves the dining table.

After a short silence, Max sighs, “I’ll go check up on Lucas and Dustin.”

Mike bites his lip nervously as he’s left alone with Stacy after a long night. He did want to have her alone for some time last night just so he could tell her what has been bothering him and also to apologize for all the stupid shit he did and said to her. He felt guilty for being so unnecessarily mean to her and sitting quietly next to her, he still feels guilty but for an entirely different reason. Mike is so confused. So, so confused.

He clears his throat, “Stacy?” His voice came out so soft that at first Stacy thought she just imagined him calling her name. But then she turns towards him and sees him already looking at her. Mike gulps, “I-“ he gapes like a fish out of water, and had it not been for Stacy silently encouraging him to continue, he would have continued staring at her like weirdo. “I want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said. Like that y-you should go back to Sydney. I didn’t mean that... and I’m glad you’re here.” Mike surprises himself at his own words. A strained noise leaves his throat as he scurries to add, “I- I mean, the guys- and Max, are really glad you’re around.”

A comforting smile takes over Stacy’s face as she bumps shoulders with Mike, “It’s okay now. We’re both past it, and you don’t hate me anymore. All’s well.”

Mike visibly calms down. He nervously chews on his lip before he looks back at Stacy. “I don’t think I hated you. Yeah, I didn’t like you, but I had some real personal issues.” He chuckles to himself, looking down at his hands, and fluttering close like a shy plant.

“I understand. Losing someone important must be tough.” She smiles softly at him again.

Mike’s breath hitches as Stacy places a comforting hand on his shoulder. He curses himself inwardly for feeling that way. It’s stupid, and he shouldn’t even be thinking about— it’s just stupid. Mike thinks it’s stupid, but he doesn’t fight it either.

“Miss your girlfriend, huh?” Stacy playfully asks, sipping her water with a teasing look on her face.

Mike’s chest pounds, “S-she’s not my girlfriend.”

It sounds terrible, but it’s the truth. God, Mike, why are you like this? Get your head in the fucking game, this is stupid. No matter how much Mike scolds himself, he still can’t shake away the warmth spreading on his chest.

Stacy raises an interested eyebrow at this. “Okay...” she trails off.

“Let’s not talk about her.” Mike gulps.

“So no more forcing me to spy on our friends?” Stacy chuckles.

Mike smiles back, shaking his head, “No more.”

“Wow, would you look at that?” Stacy grins at the boy sitting next to her. “You finally got that stick out of your ass. Congrats, Mike, I’m so proud of you.” She reaches over to give him a playful hug but Mike rolls his eyes and shoves her arms away from him.

He ends up laughing at his actions and the absurdity of the scene. It’s so... different.

After a short but comfortabl silence, Stacy clears her throat. “I have a special secret that I haven’t told anyone yet.” Stacy smiles to herself.

“What?”

“If you buy a special flavor from Jodie’s, you can get one free ice cream if you ask.”

“What?” Mike gasps. How long has that been going on and how has he never heard of it before?

Stacy hums, “Hmm, wanna test it out tomorrow?”

Mike grins excitedly, “Hell yeah!”

#wow i kinda feel bad for eleven fjdkk #hawkins series #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #steve harrington’s sister #mike wheeler x oc #mike wheeler x reader #eleven #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #mike wheeler #bestfriend!max #finn wolfhard #joe keery #finn wolfhard imagine

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grimeysociety · 6 years

Text

Fic: You Only Live Twice

Pairing: Darcy Lewis x Bucky Barnes Rating: E/Explicit “In the space of a couple days, Thanos managed to upend entire continents. One day the world was there and then it was gone.”

Darcy wears combat boots and scrapes on her knees.

There’s a smear of blood on her forehead and Bucky’s not sure if it’s hers or someone else’s.

The way she ignores it and grabs a bottle from behind the bar she jumps over – Bucky has the impression blood, hers or otherwise, is the least thing on her mind.

He keeps shaking. There are sirens everywhere.

The bar they sit at has broken plaster littered all over it.

Bucky doubts anyone around them for a solid couple of miles is even alive.

They don’t even know each other. Steve knew Darcy.

She was Thor’s friend.

Bucky didn’t know anybody, except Shuri and T’Challa.

And Shuri was –

Bucky tastes bile and retches again.

Darcy doesn’t react, instead sipping her glass filled to the brim with amber liquid.

Bucky wishes he could get drunk like she is.

What was she even doing here?

“Where were you?” he murmurs, barely audible.

His voice is hoarse.

“With Jane.”

He lip trembles and she begins to sob for the first time, reality sinking in.

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?”

Bucky fails to say anything worthwhile. Talking still isn’t his strong suit.

He puts a hand on her shoulder but she shrinks back, away like she’s afraid.

In the space of a couple days, Thanos managed to upend entire continents.

One day the world was there and then it was gone.

- Three months later, Darcy gets a call from SHIELD.

They tell her they have a job for her.

She has nothing but cleanup to do. Her home town doesn’t exist anymore.

Her parents’ farm is gone.

She counts the people she knows from before Thanos on her two hands. Everyone since she met at evacuation centres.

There are so many mouths to feed, and so little to offer.

People come crawling from across the Middle East, Europe, South America -

It goes on and on.

Nothing seems to staunch the flow.

She grips the phone a little tighter in her hand, the calm voice on the other end enough to make her scream back they have no idea what really matters.

So fuck Bucky Barnes.

It wasn’t her job to go find him.

Thor collides with her, and she holds him tight, wanting to stay with him forever – but he’s still dealing with Thanos galaxies away.

He tells her he knows where Barnes is and squeezes her shoulder, tears in his eyes.

He wishes he could take her with him, but knows she’ll most likely die.

Luckily for Earth, Thor thinks Thanos has little interest in returning, considering the thoroughness of his last visit.

Darcy knows the meaning of the phrase ‘with a heavy heart’ more than ever.

She calls SHIELD back and packs her knapsack.

Travelling is a nightmare in general so going into the countryside with roads mostly blocked off by the thinner military takes forever.

She takes three days to go West. She has to wait and see the missing posters at every roadblock.

She knows every person whose photo is up is dead.

She knows it in her heavy heart.

Bucky slams the door in her face when she knocks on his trailer door.

She sighs, looking around his living quarters.

She’s pretty sure he’s squatting, but the people who lived here before are most likely dead.

She spends two whole hours sitting on the ground by his front door, picking at bits of grass and listening to the birds.

He bursts out of the trailer and sets off toward the woods, and Darcy is after him, but he doesn’t give her a second look.

He starts collecting firewood.

Darcy had noticed the little pile of charcoal while she waited for Barnes to remerge.

“SHIELD wants you back,” she says, and he snorts.

Darcy feels a sting of annoyance, wondering what makes it okay for him to be like this around her, when she didn’t even know him.

She follows him around the dense trees, picking up her own sticks.

When they get back to the burnout pyre, Barnes starts building a fire, and Darcy stands by while she watches.

He’s wearing a glove over his metal arm.

“Are you hiding?”

Barnes glares at her.

“You are, aren’t you?” she fires, and he looks away. “Do you know how I found you?”

“How did you find me?” he murmurs, and it’s the first thing he’s said the entire time.

“Thor.”

He pauses, jaw ticking.

“You remember Thor?”

He nods, curt.

Darcy’s crying already, and wipes at her face, annoyed.

Bucky starts lighting little pieces and blowing on the kindling.

Soon enough the fire is healthy and glowing by the setting sun.

“I’m staying.”

She says it – doesn’t ask. Barnes just nods, somehow quieter than ever.

She’s the only other person in his whole world right now.

They sit and stare into the fire for hours – or it feels like it, anyway.

Darcy checks her phone a lot, wondering if Barnes even has a generator.

Knowing her luck, he doesn’t and she’ll have no phone until she decides to leave.

Because she’s pretty sure she’s not staying until he decides to leave.

She’s also pretty sure he can barely stand her, because she’s constantly reminding him of that day when he pulled her out of that café before it blew up –

“It’s not your fault.”

She looks at him face on for the first time in about three hours and he frowns, face twisting.

“I’m the reason you’re here,” he grunts.

Here instead of dead with everyone else, he means.

She shuffles closer to him on her knees, sure she’s getting dirt on her skin and she doesn’t know when her next shower is.

She places a hand on his metal arm, feeling the cool, hard outer shell of it beneath the fabric of his jacket.

She’s trying to give him the same kindness he failed to give her back in the bar, when she jumped and he looked mortified.

Darcy still feels bad about that. She knows Barnes’ story from what Steve told her –

Thinking of Steve now made her feel sick.

Barnes swallows, and she’s so aware of him not retreating –

“Darcy.”

He’s never said her name before.

She shivers, and he inches closer.

She eyes him, waiting for him to stop, but he doesn’t.

She remembers, when he first grabbed her in the city and the building blew all around them, and they ducked, his body covering her.

He had to pull her back away from the fires she saw, from the hole that used to be the café.

She looks at Barnes’ – Bucky’s – mouth now.

She brings her hand up to cup his face and kisses him briefly.

She hesitates, wondering if she’s gone too far.

He brings her down for another kiss, deeper this time.

He tastes like smoke – or maybe she’s just been sitting by the fire for too long.

She considers maybe Bucky isn’t too bothered about how she tastes, either, because his tongue swipes over the seam of her lips and she opens for him.

She sighs. She allows herself to show her appreciation.

His hands are everywhere.

She’s wearing a skirt because it’s July and nothing feels good to wear anymore but a skirt is the second best thing to nothing.

His hand in already slipping up and under the hem of her skirt while the other metal one is under her shirt, his fingers splayed across her lower back.

She rides the wave of it, daring to bite a little on his lip.

She pulls back to see his eyes blown and dark, his lips wet and hair mussed.

“Not here,” she says, and he just nods dumbly.

She wants to fuck him but figures being outside by the fire is too much. She won’t come if there’s just the hard ground beneath her ass.

She thinks of the last guy who screwed her back in the city with his black topknot and barista uniform and wonders if he’s dead.

He's probably dead.

She walks away from Bucky back toward his trailer and opens it, looking around.

“There’s a light. There.”

Bucky points to the long cord above her head and she tugs it, and the flickering light reveals a mess only a lonely person could make.

The bed is unmade and the sheets looks anything but fresh, but Darcy knows she’s closer to wet than dry.

She lays down in the cramped space and Bucky settles beside her on the bed, taking off his shoes.

Darcy kicks hers off absently, aware of the heat of him beside her.

“Come here.”

She tugs him back, kissing him hard.

He groans for the first time, and the sound goes right to her cunt.

He shoulders off his jacket and cradles her head in her hands.

It’s close to affectionate and it makes Darcy pull back.

She pulls off her skirt, her shirt and her bra. She shimmies out of her underwear, all business.

Bucky just stares at her.

He turns away a little to take off his shirt and glove.

He pulls off his pants and boxers but Darcy doesn’t see much of his cock.

There’s an awkward pause and Darcy figures it’s because they’re both naked and they’ve barely said a thing.

What was the protocol?

Whoever said this was like riding a bicycle had clearly never heard of shared trauma.

He was the only other person who knew exactly how she felt, because he’d been there with her the entire time, and kept her safe.

Did she hate him a little for protecting her like that?

Maybe.

She looked at the scar tissue that littered his body. His muscles were smooth and hard, so chiselled it was close to being a crime.

That’s sounds like something she would have said another time, when she wasn’t so sad.

When her soul hadn’t been sucked out with the rest of the world.

He knows her so well, and yet she’s sure he doesn’t even know her middle name.

She leans closer to him and encourages him to lay down with her, pulling at his arms and kissing him once more.

He lies on top of her, pressing their skin together and making her forget the city for a second.

She shivers again, and she sees him watching her, looking her body over like other men have.

He still hesitates.

“Darcy.”

“Bucky,” she murmurs back, and she realizes she’s stroking his flesh arm with a finger.

She was affectionate in her old life, and she was always touching people.

She pauses, blinking a few times.

If she cries now, it’s all over.

He reads her well, his hands gliding over her tits and flicking a nipple lightly to distract her.

He takes his pleasure from the look she gives him when he slips two fingers inside her, stretching her pussy as her hips roll.

She bites down on her lip when his thumb grazes her clit.

She hitches her leg over his hip and he gets the message, lining them up.

His look is a question, and she nods, and then looks down as his cock fills her.

She sucks in a breath, and says, unable to help herself, “Holy shit.”

He kisses her again, gentle.

She pulls back again, attempting to sound a little distant, “Just don’t come in me.”

“Okay,” he replies, and then she wraps her arms around him.

They rock together, and Darcy lets a moan slip out because he makes her feel so full and good –

“Oh, fuck,” she whispers.

He slams into her while teasing her clit.

The grind of his pubic bone is intoxicating, and soon she’s gasping, clawing at his back and writhing.

The sweat between them makes her chuckle, and her smile makes him smile a little, too.

Bucky’s smile is small and muted but she stills sees it, and her chest aches.

“Bucky,” she whispers, and then she feels it –

She’s coming, clenching around him and shuddering. It feels slow and hard, like a heavy pulse and she cuts off her breath and then gulps again at the air, sighing.

He actually moans now and then pulls out, coming into his fist as his forehead presses to Darcy’s shoulder.

When he recovers, he presses a kiss to the bare skin of her and moves away. -

They sleep side by side, only touching by accident.

The next morning she wakes to an empty space beside her, but she sees him making coffee and he hands her a mug wordlessly.

She thinks she’ll leave that day alone, but he surprises her, gesturing over at the shape hidden under a tarp beside the trailer.

It turns out to be his bike, and Darcy just stares at him.

“Since when?”

He shrugs. “Since you.”

She decides she needs him.

#fic #darcy lewis x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x darcy lewis #wintershock

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hillywooddestiel · 6 years

Text

Stranger Things Have Happened: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Lost To The Party

Characters: Y/N Winchester, Nancy, Barb, Jonathan, Steve, Tommy H., Carol, Sam, Dean

Warnings: angst, mentions of John’s crappy parenting, overprotective Dean, underage drinking

Word count: 2.3k

Series description: Hawkins, Indiana, November 1983. The Winchesters got out of hunting and decided to settle down in a small town. The youngest of the three, Y/N, just wants to get on with her somewhat normal life and go to a good college. But that’s a little tricky when disappearances start occurring, including her friend Barbara Holland, and there’s reports of a mysterious new girl in town. Can she balance boyfriends, teen drama and monster hunting?

A/N: Here you go! Another chapter of this Stranger Things x Supernatural crossover. I’m really enjoying writing this and I hope you’re enjoying reading it. As always feedback is much appreciated and if you want to be tagged all you need to do is ask xx Masterlist Series Masterlist

Part 2

Story:

8th November 1983, Hawkins, Indiana…

My mind races as I walk to school (some asshole scraped my car really badly sometime last night so Dean’s working on it). There are already loads of people bustling about the streets on their way to work walking in some half asleep state. My breath comes out as wisps in the crisp winter air this chilly morning as I try to focus on the thudding of my boots on concrete, anything to give my mind a break from thinking about recent events. That is until I see a familiar figure up ahead sticking a piece of paper to a lamp post.

“Jonathan! Hey Jonathan!” I shout, picking up the pace to catch up.

“Oh… Hey Y/N…” He avoids eye contact, instead opting to look at his scuffed sneakers.

“I’m-I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Thanks. You’re probably the only person ‘round here that means it.”

“… You will find him though… My brothers are going with the search party tonight. They’re good at this kind of stuff.” I try to comfort Jonathan but I forget to watch my words. He looks up at me, brows scrunched together.

“They’re good at finding people? Were they cops or somethin’ in Kansas?”

“Um… No, they just… Went on a lot of hunting trips… In the woods. That’s what I meant.”

“Right. Sure… Well I should probably err…” Jonathan shuffles awkwardly to go around the corner.

“Yeah, I should get to school anyway.” I start walking off down the sidewalk slowly before pausing, “Hey, can I get one of those?”

“Oh! Sure… Here.” He hands me one of the flyers. I give him a weak smile before picking up the pace to get to school on time.

“So it’s at my place. Be there for eight. You okay for beers?” Steve flashes his winning smile at Tommy, Carol gazing dreamily up at him like he’s not a complete dick. To be completely honest, I would rather stab my eyes out with a blunt pencil and have my ears sewn shut than hang out with the pair of them all the time but, Nancy is with Steve now so we have to spend time with Steve’s friends. I begged with Barb for us to go have lunch without them but Nancy insisted we stick with her- she said something about owing us both a huge favour. Understatement of the century.

“Oh God, look.” We all follow Carol’s disgusted stare to the noticeboard.

“Oh God that’s depressing.” Steve remarks while Nancy only looks worried,

“Should we say something?”

“I don’t think he speaks.” Carol shuts down that idea swiftly, her mean streak shining through as always, Tommy laughing behind her,

“How much d'you wanna bet he killed him?” His twisted comment just gets him a joking shove from Steve. You know, they might be terrible human beings but, I’m starting to think Tommy and Carol were made for eachother.

Despite the jokes from the group, Nancy nervously approaches Jonathan.

“What is she doing talking to that freak?” Tommy looks to all of us to see if we’re laughing but it’s only Carol with a slight smirk; the rest of us have the same guilt ridden expression.

“I hope they’re all okay.” Barb says softly, thinking out loud.

“I’m sure they’re fine. And I’m sure in a week they’ll find that kid buried in the back yard.”

“Oh look is that the time!” I exclaim, not even looking at my watch, “Gotta get to class. See ya.” And I speed walk away as fast as I can before my fist finds itself connecting with Tommy’s smug little face. The day I knock his lights out will be a happy day for us all.

“What’s this?”

“A missing poster.” I respond casually as I continue making my notes. Dean picks up the creased piece of paper from the table, scan reads it, then drops it and groans.

“I thought we told you to drop this. It’s not our kind of gig.”

“You did. But I don’t care. Will is still missing and I want us to help find him!” I look up to meet Dean’s hard glare. Luckily, the sudden ringing of the phone saves me from what I’m sure would have been another tedious lecture on staying safe.

“Y/N/N it’s for you! From Barbara Holland.” Sam calls from the hallway having answered it.

“Coming!” I shout over my shoulder, refusing to break eye contact with Dean until I’ve left the room. “Thanks Sam!” I beam as I take the phone from him.

“No problem. Please don’t get into another fight with Dean.”

“I wasn’t going to- Hey barb what’s up?” My attention gets taken by the phonecall so Sam decides to not badger me any further.

“Hey Y/N. Are you going to this party tonight?” She speaks in a hushed tone; her parents must be close by.

“I wasn’t planning on it. Why, are you?”

“I don’t really want to but, Nancy wants me to. I figured if you came too then it wouldn’t be so awkward for me. Plus I don’t really have much party experience and you do so…”

“But Barb-”

“Please! I’ll make you cookies and bring them to school next week.” She bargains. Damn it-she really does make good cookies.

“Fine I’ll come! But I want triple chocolate chip.” I joke, my kind, good-hearted nature is just too strong sometimes.

“Deal! Thank you so much Y/N/N.”

“Guess I’ll see you at eight then.”

“Yeah see you then.”

As I put the phone down, I can sense a very tall presence stood behind me. Make that two. Both my brothers stand arms folded, towering above me with stern frowns. I stupidly try to just slip past but Dean blocks my path to the kitchen with his arm slammed against the door frame. I let out a small gasp and flinch away.

“Where were you planning on going out, huh?”

“The gathering. At school. For Will.” I state simply, mainly to avoid getting caught lying. Again.

“You didn’t mention this earlier.” Dean continues like this is some sort of interrogation.

“I wasn’t going to go. But Barb and Nancy are and they asked me to go.” I try to slip past again but Dean doesn’t move his arm.

“Dean! Let her go.” Sam urges, giving me a look of pity. Dean looks to his brother, steam almost coming out of his ears from having both siblings against him. Loosening his grip on the door, he lets out a sigh.

“Fine! But I want you back here as soon as it’s over. No having around with your friends, no sleepovers. You come straight home. Understand?”

“Yes.”

I can hear the muffled arguing from my room as I refresh my makeup in the dim lighting. It’s about me. When is it not about me? Y/N missed curfew. Y/N was with a boy at the movies. Y/N didn’t do exactly what I ordered her to do. I get it. Dean worries. A lot. He worries about Sam too but he can’t exactly boss around a fully grown man (He tried but he ended up with burned pancakes whenever it was Sam’s turn to cook). I could just be sat reading in the living room and he’ll watch me to make sure nothing bad happens.

Satisfied with my final look, I slip my lipstick into my back pocket before heading towards the stairs.

“I’m serious Dean! What the hell were you thinking? Don’t you think she got enough of that crap from Dad? She doesn’t need you controlling every little bit of her life!”

“Don’t you fucking dare compare me to Dad! I’m nothing like him! And he was never the same with her as he was with us.”

“Not when you were around! When you left on a hunt or to go shopping or even just left the room, she was treated just like me.”

“Then why leave her alone with him and go to college?”

“Because I was a scared kid too Dean! And I thought maybe you could be the brother she needed.”

“So you left a seven year old kid with a man like that because you were fucking scared? How do you think she felt?”

“Terrified! I know that Dean because she told me when you came to find me. And I know she was scared of you just then because she had that same look on her face from when she was a kid around Dad.”

Their shouting is much clearer from the top of the stairs. I’ve just got to get out of here. Treading lightly and avoiding the stairs I know to be creaky, I manage to slip out of the door unnoticed. Breathing is much easier now that I can’t hear them. Maybe a party is just what I need.

Nancy finishes her beer impressively fast, ending with a small curtsey. Tommy and Carol whoop and holler, Steve places a clumsy kiss to her lips- hell, three beers in even I find myself applauding her- but Barb stays completely silent.

“You try!” Nancy offers a can to Barb. She shakes her head,

“No Nance. I don’t want any.” Noticing her reluctance, I grab the beer, fishing for my knife in my back pocket.

“Someone’s not messing around! You okay with that?” Steve asks before taking a swig of his own drink, not taking his eyes off me.

“Watch and learn boys.” I warn them before bringing the bottom of the can to my lips and chugging the contents in seven seconds flat. Finished, I crush the can in my hand and let it drop to the floor.

“Woah! Watch out Steve, I think she’s coming for your crown.” Tommy jokes, one arm wrapped tightly around Carol.

“Whatever! I was going slow earlier.” Steve pouts.

“Yeah, sure.” I laugh, taking a seat in one of the sun loungers.

“Come on Barb, you try!” Nancy grabs another beer from the cooler and hands it to Barb despite her protests. “It’s fun, just try.”

Rolling her eyes, Barb stand up, fidgeting with the knife. She slips several times, probably from the pressure of all of us watching. Suddenly, she misses sending the blade into her thumb.

“Gnarly!” Tommy leans over to see the blood trickling from her hand.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Nancy rushes over.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Barb tries to brush her off.

“Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine! Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh! It’s err round past the kitchen. To the left.” Steve gets up to point the way, following her to the door.

There’s a moment of awkward silence after Barb heads inside- no one’s really to blame but someone getting stabbed tends to dampen the mood. Carol clearly just doesn’t care, instead choosing to take a puff off her cigarette by the pool. That is until Tommy picks this moment to push call in the pool.

“Oh my God! What the hell Tommy!” She whines, flinching as he leaps in to join her. Steve takes this as his chance to shove Nancy in as well before canon balling it. Mascara leaving smudges around her eyes, Nancy wades her way to the edge, where I’m sat, holding out her arms.

“Y/N/N can you help me up?” Not thinking about it, I extend both arms out to her, ready to pull her out. That’s when she pulls back, sending me diving head first into the blue water. I only just manage to hold my breath in time before I’m plunged into the deep end. Once resurfaced, I can hear their laughing and cheering.

“Woo! Nice dive new girl!” Tommy laughs (I’m not sure but, I think he just doesn’t know my name and that’s why he uses the nickname), before turning to Carol to lock lips with her. Again.

“I’d give it a ten out of ten.” Nancy smiles, treading the water. I give her tight smile, my arm reaching behind me widely before shoving a wave of water towards her face. Only she narrowly dodges it, causing Steve to take the blow. His reaction is priceless; a mixture of surprise and annoyance with an added scream. He wastes no time, chasing after Nancy only to grab he and lift her into the air. She lands back in the water with an almighty splash, disturbing Tommy and Carol and bringing them into the fight.

“Well, you know what? You are cleaning the sheets.” Steve mutters to the loved up couple as they disappear upstairs. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” Nancy manages to say through her chattering teeth.

“I’m just gonna go to my car. I should have spare clothes with me.”

“Okay. You keeping the towel?” Steve jests, nodding to the orange striped rectangle of fabric I’m currently wearing as a cloak.

“No. I’ll change and bring it back. You okay getting home Nance?”

“I’ll be fine. You go and get warm.” She urges, hugging her towel tighter around her slender shoulders.

My hands shake a bit with the cold but I manage to change quickly; being prepared has its perks. Now in warm, dry jeans and a red flannel, I neatly fold up the towel and slip back into the house to give it back. Other than the footsteps and suspicious creaking of springs above my head, the house is quiet- a stark contrast to the crashing about in the pool only ten minutes ago. There’s no one downstairs so I just leave the towel in the lounge.

As I’m about to leave, someone outside catches my attention. It’s Barb. She’s sat on the diving board with her toes dangling in the heated water. From her fixed gaze at the rippling water I can tell she’s deep in thought. I wonder what about. A glance to the clock tells me I have no time to dawdle so I leave her be and head for home where hopefully Dean will already be in bed fast asleep. I wish.

Everything tags:

@falloutofmymemez

STHH tags:

@marslovesme @bluedefundead @elenavaldez09 @mysanityisgone27

#supernatural #spn #stranger things #st #stranger things x supernatural #supernatural fic #spn fic #stranger things fic #crossover #spn crossover #sister!winchester #sister!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #crack #angst #barbra holland

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