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frostironfudge · 1 year

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I Should Have Stayed - Bucky Barnes

Summary: When Bucky's distance with you causes your safety to be compromised, he will do anything to get you to back. Even if it means awakening the Soldat he fears looms at the periphery of his mind. Part of my This Feeling I've Got (Bucky Barnes AU). This piece can be read as a standalone.

Pairings: FATWS!Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized! Fem!Reader (established relationship)

Warnings: angst, whump, reader is injured, reader and bucky argue, bucky is an idiot (at the start), hydra mess, torture, angst, some fluff, mild mention of smut (nothing described), mentions of bucky's time as soldat, feels, emotional hurt comfort, reader feels neglected, making out, caring of wounds, emotional messes?, crying.

AN: i started writing this months ago and finally had the inspo to complete it, i hope you enjoy reading it

Word Count: 8981 || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Masterlist // AO3 // This Feeling I've Got AU Masterlist

It started slowly. Unseen texts. Ignored calls. Softly his footsteps felt foreign on the worn flooring of the home the two of you shared. Touches that lingered across dawn, warmth that shielded you from a new day gone even before it enveloped you.

You stare at the device almost hating it. It had been two days of radio silence. The device chimes just as you’re halfway putting away the untouched food. Your appetite is gone.

Bucky: hey kitten, the mission ran longer, we needed wheels up swiftly so I couldn't let you know earlier, the extension led into another mission. I’ll be home soon.

Scoffing, you place the device upside down. You’d believe him when he stayed home or should you call it that anymore? Alpine curls around your feet, her meow making you look at her.

“Yeah Al, he isn’t coming home tonight, said soon.” You tell her, the chirp from her sounds disappointed as well. Sitting on the dining chair you stare at the wooden pattern. It begins to blur, Alpine rubs her head against your arm,

“I just miss him.”. The sob is a quiet echo through the empty house.

The day comes in, along with the headache your crying caused. When you shift a weight pulls you back. Panic sets into your bones before a sleep laced voice grumbles,

“Kitten, go back to sleep, it's too early.” Bucky pulls you closer with his vibranium arm, his thumb stroking the skin of your stomach.

“Need to go to the bathroom…” You trail, shifting away from him. His grip loosens, you don’t look back at him as you make your way over. Shutting the door, your eyes lace with more tears. Not one ‘i missed you’, ‘i love you’.

Wiping your eyes, splashing cold water on your face. It does little to help the puffy appearance of your face. The pain medication sits on the counter. Sighing you grab two, placing the bottle back.

You needed something to stomach the medication. Bucky sits up on the bed rubbing his eyes as you head out, the blanket bunched around his waist. Your eyes move over him, no visible injuries, relief floods you. Alpine clambers onto the bed, nuzzling into his side and purring.

“Hi pretty girl, I missed you.” He coos.

Wordlessly you head to the kitchen. Swallowing down, if you got time with him you wouldn’t argue. If he didn't, maybe you would ask if he even wants to be together anymore. You knew missions would come and go. He would update you before leaving. Now it was after the fact.

“What hurts?” Bucky’s arms move around your waist, chest warming your back. Chin resting on your shoulder. Lips press to your cheek, “Heard the bottle.”

“Just my head.” You take a bite of the toast.

“Did you sleep late? You didn’t reply…” He kisses your temple.

Were you naive to want to melt into his affections? You take another bite of toast. Bucky kisses along your hairline. Palm moving over your back, soft touches. You lean against him, resolve breaking.

You shake your head, “Just, feeling off, I guess.”

“Come back to bed then.” He coaxes, “Let me cuddle the headache away.”

You chuckle, looking up at him, his brows furrow.

“Kitten,” he turns to you, cupping your face in his hands, “What made you cry?”

“Nothing–,”

He gives you a look that oozes disbelief.

“Just a movie, you know how I get.” you lie, “I was assured of healing cuddles?” you raise your brow.

Bucky says nothing for a beat, then leads you back to bed after you take the medicine. Tucked against his side, head on his chest. Fingertips softly running over your scalp.

“Did you miss me?” You ask on the precipice of sleep, you don’t look up. What if he lies?

“Every minute I’m away I miss you, Kitten.” his index finger tucks under your chin, titling your head back to look into his blue eyes.

“Couldn’t wait to come back to you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I had to leave for another one right after.” Sincerity shines in his voice and eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your palm moves from his chest to his jaw. His stubble grew out further. Pushing yourself closer, Bucky meets your lips half way. The bed is soft as he turns, pressing you against it. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Your back arches when his hips rut against you.

Bucky moans against your throat as he marks your skin, his scent envelopes you further, pine, bergamot, your own little concoction of heaven.

“Missed you so much, my pretty little kitten.” He tugs on your earlobe.

“Bucky,” You call out, your hands roaming on his back needing him closer.

“Need you too baby.” He assures, kissing along your shoulder, back up and meeting your lips again, tugging on your lip.

“I love you.”

“Mine, as I am yours.”

“Yours.”

You feel his presence over you, on every part of your skin. Basking in the afterglow. Softly Bucky traces his own written memories across your back. Humming when you nuzzle closer. He presses kisses to your skin, forehead, temple.

You don’t know why the tears reappear, maybe the intensity of his love, the love you can finally feel surrounding you. You press further into the crook of his skin. Bucky’s hand pauses on your mid back.

“Kitten?” He feels the warm tears over his chest.

You shake your head when he tries to pull away to look at you, your arms tighten around him, keeping yourself flush against him and hidden away.

“It’s okay, I’m here, let it out. I’ve got you.” He runs a hand over your head, free hand running over your back.

Even as the sobs shake you, he doesn’t let go. He keeps you protected.

Minutes pass as you calm down, sniffling intermittently. Bucky waits till you stop crying completely. He sits the two of you up, pulling you into his lap. Grabbing the tissues from the side table. He wipes the remnants of the breakdown from your face.

“You want to talk about it?” His question is met by silence and your nervous fiddling.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” he assures, pressing kisses to your forehead.

Bucky wraps his arms around you again, worry laces his heart. What had made you this upset?

Your eyes close, exhaustion seeping in, Bucky feels your breathing even out. He counts your heartbeats, then your breaths. After a few minutes, he gently shifts allowing the two of you to lay on the bed.

On instinct you reach out to him, he keeps you close. Thumb tracing your cheek wiping away the tear tracks. Maybe he could plan a date later today. It felt far too long that you and he went anywhere.

He watches the dawn turn into morning daylight, before sleep finds him. He falls asleep with his lips pressed to your forehead.

When you both wake up close to lunch time.

Neither of you bring up your crying spell.

Take out is delivered.

Clothes are changed, it’s after lunch when a show is playing in the background and Bucky returns from the kitchen with your cat ear mug filled and his own mug filled with coffee.

“I was thinking,” he sets his mug down as you sip from yours then look at him, “We should go out tonight, on a date.”

“A date?” you sound more surprised than you intend to, Bucky catches it but says nothing.

“Yes, well, we haven’t in a long time and I found a place where I can take you dancing with dinner.” He smiles showing his little dimple.

“Dancing, Mr. Barnes?” You raise a brow, a smile on your lips, “Alright, take me dancing.”

His smile turns brighter, a fist pump and a yes, have the house fill with laughter, Alpine meows.

“Yes, treats, yes.” Bucky chuckles heading towards her.

Hours later, smoothening your dress, Bucky admires you from the mirror.

“You look gorgeous, Kitten.” He winks at you, your cheeks heat.

“You’re looking dapper as well.” You compliment, Bucky’s lips part to say something and then his phone rings.

“I promise it's nothing.” he says taking the call, you try not to dampen your mood.

Slipping on your shoes, setting up Alpine’s auto feeder and the camera to keep an eye on her. Bucky meets you at the door helping you wear your jacket.

Taking his bike isn’t unusual, you’ve gotten used to it. Plus Bucky pressing the breaks and speeding just to feel your hold on him tighten makes you laugh. Just as you wait for him to take off his helmet his phone rings again.

“Take it…” You urge, hands tucked into your jacket pockets.

“Sit inside? I don’t want you getting cold.” He gives you an apologetic smile, the call is answered as you walk to the establishment, the interior is cosy, soft lighting and there is a dance floor in the middle but it isn’t a club-esque place. You smile already excited.

The hostess leads you to the table Bucky had reserved, she places the menus and two waters. You look towards the door, then to the menu. Ten minutes pass, the waiter looks at you hoping you would signal him.

You look at your phone texting Bucky.

You: Is everything okay?

You: Bucky where are you?

You: Do you want me to place the order? It would be here in a few minutes

At the twenty minute mark, you move across the now occupied dancefloor, outside Bucky is still on the phone, an argument going on with Sam.

“Sam, don’t be fucking reckless going in alone. We’ve been going over this.” Bucky glares at the ground, “No I can make it, nothing important is going on.”

You scoff, he looks up at you, then closes his eyes.

“I’ll call you back, give me half an hour.” He looks up at you from the phone.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” He says, you shake your head.

“No you meant it correctly. There isn’t anything important. There hasn’t been in the last few months. Do you know how many days you were home just last month?” You ask, waiting for a response.

“I–,”

“Ten. Not even together, I’m stringing together your hour based sporadic returns and giving you these ten days.”

“Kitten…”

“Please, just, save it, yesterday as well, you were supposed to be home for dinner as you promised on that five minute phone call.”

“The mission–,”

“Went on longer, thanks for telling me after the fact.”

“You knew what I did, I will have to go for missions, like tonight.”

“Thanks for telling me beforehand, how long is this one going to last? Answer me?” You step closer to him, “You want to know why I was crying?”

Bucky’s breath shudders, guessing your answer. You nod.

“I don’t feel prioritised anymore by you. Now I know a date with me is nothing important. I know you’re needed, you fight for keeping people safe and I am proud of you for doing that, I always will be, but Bucky this is the longest time we’ve spent together in the past months.” You wait for him to say something, do something.

He studies you for a few moments.

“I need to leave. I’m leaving you home.” He holds the helmet out towards you, you wear it.

The journey back seemingly shorter, he says nothing even as the door unlocks, heading to pack his duffle. You wait in the living room.

“We will discuss this once I come home.” he stands at the entrance of the living room. You look up from where you were playing with the hem of your dress. Nodding you walk towards him.

“I really am sorry I have made you feel this way. I know what I put you through is difficult as is, I wish I had realised on my own rather than pushing you to be this upset and feeling neglected. You are my priority, I know it doesn’t seem that way as I am leaving again, but I’m going to improve and show you just how much you mean to me.” He steps closer, his adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

You stand on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek.

“Take care of yourself for me.” You request as you always did, “You come back and we’ll talk about this…”

He nods, his chest tightening as he turns to the door, you follow behind him, Alpine curled near your feet as you both watch him leave.

Bucky texts you when he reaches the compound. You just read the message, curled up on the sofa under the blanket with your tub of ‘soothe the heartache’ ice cream, even your favourite show doesn’t prove to be the salve to the wounds you didn’t realise had formed upon your heart.

Bucky fairs no better staring at the mission docket blankly, he requests FRIDAY to provide him with his off time list in the past months, you were right. He had hardly been home. Extended missions, new missions right after primary ones ended.

The group pauses when Bucky stands dismissing the hologram.

“I’m not going.” he announces.

“What?” Sam questions, “You were just on my ass about going in alone.”

“That was before, priorities change.” He glares at Sam, “Also we have an entire team here.” he points at the fellow avengers.

Sam looks around and back at Bucky, “Alright.”

“Good, now if there is an emergency then let me know.” Bucky pushes the docket to the centre of the table, grabbing the duffle he heads to the parking lot of the tower. He had to work towards his relationship with you. Missions would come and go. You are his constant, his future.

The incessant knocking on the door has you pause, Alpine looks up at you from her perch near the window. The wood rattles again at the louder knocks. Tiptoeing your way to the peephole you do not recognise the people.

The man standing in front turns, you cover your mouth to prevent the gasp. The logo on his jacket chills your bones. You pad across the room, grasping Alpine and heading to your bedroom, placing her in the carrier Tony had come up with, you grasp the little clip on her collar shoving it into your pocket.

Her meows are frantic and her claws rake across the carrier wanting to be let out,

“Alpine no, be quiet.” The search for your phone takes you back out to the living room, you stay close to the ground crawling.

When you reach the living room, dread fills the entire house. Your hair is yanked upon strands tearing making you cry out.

“Where were you hiding, hm?” The man chuckles, lifting you up causing more strain on your hair roots, “Where is Soldat? Leaving you all alone?”

You don’t answer, legs kicking around as you’re lifted upwards. Your hands move to his, there is a sting across your cheek before you roll across the floor, your back meeting the table.

“Check the apartment.” The same man looms over you, his foot on your palm, pain blooms with another cry from your lips.

All the defence moves Bucky taught you, yet none seemingly making their way to your body and mind.

“Nothing, only their cat’s in the cage.” Another voice adds.

You grab the man’s ankle, trying to dig your nails into his flesh. It only makes him laugh.

“Put Soldat’s little kitten in a cage as well. She will help us revive him.”

You’re ripped from the man easily, the pain of your palm now dull. The man has you kneel right in front of the camera set up for Alpine.

“Go on, ask Soldat to come find you.” Cold metal kisses your temple. You stare into the camera. The blazing tears now manifest.

“Bucky, don’t try—,” Your hair is tugged back harshly, “Bucky!” You cry out for him.

“That is not right, call out to Soldat. Not Bucky.”

“No.” You seeth trying to twist away you manage to kick his leg he falls but before you can reach for the exit hatch where you placed Alpine.

You fall forward, crashing into the glass cabinet. It shatters and you feel yourself dragged by your foot where the man caught you.

Screaming, crying for help, you kick at his hand. It only angers him. Only Alpine’s distressed meows are your reply.

“Call to Soldat.” The sting of his palm causes a ringing in your ears.

“He isn’t your pawn anymore, you fucking asshole!” You yell, trying to get away yet again.

“Listen you little fucking bitch. You’re testing my fucking patience. Take her.” He backhands you again, the metallic taste on your tongue.

You thrash still in the next pair of arms, “Don’t fucking touch Alpine!”

“Shut up.” The former man, with a scar across his jaw yells, he places a muzzle on your mouth muffling your screams as you’re dragged out.

“We care scarcely for pets. You are the prize. You’re going to bring Soldat back to us.”

They don’t head towards the elevators, instead taking the stairs to the roof, a jet waits and you try with all your might to prevent them from taking you.

Yet you’re shoved between the men, the woman on the pilot seat looks back at you once then begins the pre-flight process.

You close your eyes as the restraints dig into your arms, twisting them back. Hoping Bucky or the team gets the distress signal from Alpine’s carrier that you activated.

A sinking feeling latches onto your stomach, what if he’s already long gone on the mission? In a way you were happy. He would not be captured by these assholes.

Tears anew gather along your eyes, pooling over the muzzle, lining it with salt instead of iron as it might have memorised.

The man speaks with others in annoyance, then you feel a pinch along your shoulder.

Slowly everything fades away.

When Bucky sits on his bike, all hell breaks loose. The alert system rings, his phone alert chimes and Sam runs out from the elevators.

“Bucky!” He calls out, but it sounds distant as Bucky reads the notification of the distress call from Alpine’s carrier. He had taught you how to use it and what situations would call for its usage.

Bucky can feel the adrenaline ripping through his blood, heading to every muscle with each cracked beating of his heart.

“Go, go, I’m right above.” Sam urges, red wing to follow Bucky as he drives off. Sam moves swiftly, suiting up and moving through the sky.

“The security has been tampered with at your building.” Sam speaks through the comms, Bucky doesn’t reply. He needs to make sure you’re okay, the calls to you go unanswered. He blinks back the tears, he should have stayed. He should have fucking stayed.

“Satellite footage shows a smaller quinjet landing on the roof. I’m trying to locate it.” Sam knows it isn’t of any use distracting Bucky but he knows this information may help put into perspective.

He should have stayed.

Bike haphazardly parked he rushes through the glass doors, this was supposed to be hidden away. Blue eyes trace the steps he had carried you through, soaking in the rain or blooming through the first spring, hot chocolates in hand during the snowy winter.

Memories of laughter in the hallway, why was his mind his worst enemy? The door is open, he can tell by the faint scent of those candles you love permeating through the hallway.

He should have stayed.

Alpine’s meows gives him hope, it sinks the second he assesses the damage in the living room. He heads on over to the carrier kept near the hidden exit hatch he had shown you.

Alpine paws at the cage, meowing louder as she recognizes Bucky, he opens it, she launches herself at him, he holds her unable to control the tears that soak her fur.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

As his vibranium fingers run over her fur he notices her bell isn’t sounding the same. Checking the collar he realises you took the pin that contained her tracker.

Oh he could kiss you. He will when he finds you.

“Sam?” Bucky stands holding his fur baby. Shielding her from the living room and walking out of the apartment. He was going to move you both to a better, secure location.

“What do you need?”

Bucky explains what you did, Sam smiles at your quick thinking. Bucky meets him on the roof. Red Wing loads the tracker information.

The moments are tense as it loads. Bucky only feels the knot tighten when he realises the course is set for Russia.

“We head back to the compound and you will need help.” Sam places a hand on his shoulder.

“I need to save her, Sam, I have to fix things. I promised her.” He stares at his friend, Alpine struggles in his hold.

Sam nods, “You will, now come on. Let's take care of her first, I know Y/N will be worried about Alpine more than herself.”

“Call out to Soldat.”

“No.”

Another hit, you close your eyes. Biting down on your tongue to stop the sound of distress.

“You’re testing my patience girl.”

You stay silent, the red light on the camera mocks you.

Give in.

It repeats.

You shake your head.

“We know the triggers don’t work.” The same man with the scar on his face tells you.

“We want to approach this differently.” He walks around you, pausing behind you.

“He was always an emotional fool when he would begin to remember. Right before we put him in that chair.” The light flickers on in the corner, Bucky’s memories come crashing down as you recall his ordeal spoken to you over his own tears.

“Should we give you a taste?” The man laughs, “You would beg for death. You would do anything I say for death.”

The ropes keep you in place, you’re hunched over. Silently letting the tears flow. How are you finding the strength to not cry out in pain, you don’t understand.

“Now call out to Soldat.” Your head is lifted to face upwards. The fucking red light mocks you, catching your moment of weakness.

“Bucky, it's them, they, they want you to lose your progress, don’t, don’t let it—,” Another slap cuts you off. You bite your tongue not willing to let any sound of distress make it to the video. You stare at the wet patch on the rough ground.

“Do you not understand? I said,”

Harshly the man grabs your jaw, squeezing till your lips form a pout, your head turned to face the camera.

“Call,”

His foot presses on your own leg,

“Soldat.”

You weakly shake your head, glaring at the man.

“You little bitch.”

Your head hits the ground as the chair topples over, your pained whimper makes the man smile.

“Soldat, we have your precious kitten, ah, yes we have been watching for a while. How you’ve been leaving her alone for more and more time.” The man chuckles, as you’re lifted to be righted by his subordinates,

“Poor thing had cooked for you, all that food left in the refrigerator. Now, you come to us alone, we exchange you for her.” He towers over you,

“She doesn’t scream for you Soldat, seems you have chosen a strong one for yourself. I’ll enjoy breaking her. Then she will sing for you.” He assures, you don’t look at him, staring at the ground instead.

The silence is deafening, roaring in your ears as they leave you alone for minutes or hours on end. The red dot in the corner indicating the camera isn’t there anymore, they got what they needed.

You will yourself not to cry, one motive was them exploiting you and your pain to bring out Soldat.

Bucky had confided in you about his past.

The dark embers that surrounded his mind. The night he spoke about the words and their consequences with a rasp you had sobbed in his arms.

Cradling him. Your arms ache in remembrance of Bucky. Your mind taking you to the first time cuddling with him, pressed against him on the cold day.

You couldn't allow them to take away his progress, to weaponize them again. You were hardly an enhanced being, just a civilian. A civilian who is endangering the man she loves.

Metal clangs, the ties to the chair are unravelled. Only footsteps echo when you’re dragged into the outer hallway, flickering lights make you wince. Keeping your gaze on the floor. The throbbing in your head dulls in the slightest.

When you’re pushed into the room on your knees, hands shackled above you. The people leave the room. Looking around there isn’t much, it’s cleaner and tilted a section to the side has a wide bed, another seems to harbour a two way glass.

You stare at your own reflection, red lines your forehead and temple. Splotches across your cheeks and arms. The full sleeved shirt you were wearing is in tatters.

The man enters, a scowl on his face. It tugs on his scar. His footsteps feel like pinpricks on your skin.

“Check her.” He orders the subordinate who steps closer to you. Her hair was cropped, she kneels her hands pat along your arms moving downward. You shift uncomfortably then her hands move to your pockets.

You feel her reach for the clip. You bite your tongue. Closing your eyes. The slap doesn’t sting this time, your bruised cheeks throb in numbing pain.

“Tracker.” She places the clip into the palm of the man’s hand.

“Hmm, it appears you have led Soldat right to us. He was to head to his old stomping grounds following our jet. Your smartness has led him right into our hold.” He grins, your heart sinks.

“Yes, you should feel guilty. However, you should feel pride. You will be the catalyst to return the fist of HYDRA.” His laugh echoes even after he leaves.

Your stomach cramps, not understanding how many hours has it been.

Your mind drifts to Bucky, guilt latches around you.

You should have kept quiet, what if he got hurt?

What if no one found Alpine?

What if you put him in more danger?

Tracing your location had been easy due to the tracker. However, HYDRA had been smart, constantly moving you. The cat and mouse game they were playing with him.

The video came in after three hours, your eyes glazed over filling Bucky’s with rage at the way they kept hurting you. Forcing you to call out to The Winter Soldier.

The video from Alpine’s camera had burned itself into his memory. He swore to cause all of them pain. Each one that hurt you.

Sam watches him through the video feed, the quinjet on the last leg of the journey.

“I need to ask you, not because I don’t trust you, but I am worried.”

Bucky turns away from the video, he was going to rip the man apart. Piece by fucking piece.

“I already told you, they won’t be able to trigger—,”

“You told me once, you feared he was still somewhere inside, waiting.” Sam cuts him off.

“Sam, I do know what I told you, I, I don’t want it to come down to that. But if it is the only way to protect her? Then I do not care, I’m giving myself up for her even if I have to pretend to be him.” Bucky looks back at the paused screen, on your features, he clenches his fists. The embers in his mind rattle, the part of him tucked away already trying to break free.

“And if he takes over? What will prevent her from getting hurt?” Sam didn’t want to think this could happen, but he had to have Bucky pause and run through the consequences.

The blue eyed man stays quiet, “I’d never let anything harm her, I’ve failed spectacularly but I plan to not let it happen ever again, from my own hands to anyone else’s.”

Sam nods, the jet lands on the outskirts. It doesn’t sit right letting Bucky go in alone. They couldn’t afford anything to happen to you. Stocking the jet with supplies, safe houses and trackers planted.

Bucky loads his weapons, heading out towards you. He jogs through the perimeter. Silently taking down the guards walking along. He pulls the bodies into the surrounding forest.

They don’t get a chance to touch him, not landing even a nick to his skin. Bucky traces the easiest exit path from his breach point back to the jet.

Breaching the facility walls and building, with each body on the floor it hardly satiates the anger within him. The room you were kept in was familiar. All facilities mimicked the same patterns. Same layout.

The room is empty, he traverses down the hallway when he hears your pained whimper. He doesn’t care if it is a trap.

“Y/N.” He whispers, limbs picking up pace, he kicks down the door, the room is empty. Save for the glass that shows him you, kneeling on the floor. Arms extended behind you in shackles.

His vibranium fist collides with the glass.

The man grins.

“Oh look, Soldat is here.” He announces.

You look up, glass trembles as his fist lands upon it.

“Bucky.” You say loudly still unable to see him.

The punching becomes frantic, Bucky looks around the room, then at the corner of the glass frame.

“Call out to Soldat.”

“Bucky!” You cry out as the hit lands to your side.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” He roars, hitting harder.

“Soldat.” The man seethes again. You don’t understand why your resolve to not cry or sob is breaking. Your eyes move towards the glass again. It shakes.

A crack forming at the bottom left, then right.

You cry out when your hair is pulled upon, “Bucky—,”

“Kitten!” He calls out, another hit to the top left corner, the satisfying crack pushes him forward. Using the table as leverage, he moves back holding it up.

The light flickers, your gaze finds Bucky moving back with the table, “Bucky.” You rasp finally seeing him. The weight on your chest shifts, tiny spikes of guilt press into your heart.

“Soldat, pay attention.” The voice cuts through his movements.

Bucky looks out the glass, the barrel of a gun is held against your temple.

“One more move and she doesn’t get to even reunite with you.” You whimper when the gun presses harder into your skin. The metal is warm as though recently used.

Bucky sets the table down, “Give her to me.” His voice is cold, the anger simmering through his veins.

“Now, now, ask her to call to Soldat.” The man tuts, “She seems hell bent on not wanting to help us. Help you in fact. You were at your greatest with us. It is your destiny to be HYDRA’s pawn to greatness.”

Bucky looks at you, even in a tight grip he knows defiance is on your tongue. You weren’t going to allow him to be subjected to those horrible times again.

He takes note of your visible injuries, the way your breathing is shallow he knows you’ve landed injuries to your chest too.

“She won’t because your precious Soldat is gone.” Bucky looks back at the man.

“Now I find that hard to believe.” The man hauls you up, your unsteady footing makes you stumble, Bucky moves forward, then there is a click.

“You remember this scent I presume? Locking down your body but keeps you conscious.” The man chuckles.

Bucky turns to the door, but the gas permeates through him his hand stays half raised, your hands slam on the glass as he falls to his knees.

“Bucky!” You cry out.

“Say it.” Bucky rasps coughing against the irritant fumes.

“No, Bucky I—,”

“Do it, don’t argue.” Blue eyes blazing, you gaze at him, tears stream down your face as the men filter into the room.

“S-Soldat.” You say as they pick him up, grabbing his head by his hair making him look at you.

“Louder, he needs to hear you.” The man taunts as the six men hold him up. Bucky’s eyes are trained on you. He wants to apologise for putting you through this, for hurting you, for not prioritising you. His throat is locked, the gas was enough for them to read the words to him, so he knows he has time.

“Soldat, please— Bucky.” Your voice breaks into a sob before your head is slammed against the glass. Bucky’s eyes shift to the man, he’d be creative in hurting this man. He’d make it hurt.

“You can’t do anything right can you?” The man taunts.

Another harsh tug and slam. Your vision blurs, “Soldat.” You cry out, “Soldat please, just,” your palms rest on the glass, eyes on Bucky as he blurs into smears of colour.

Bucky closes his eyes, your calls to the Soldat echoing around his mind. It isn’t dark embers that begin to shroud over him. There is red hot anger. A growl rumbles in his chest. His breathing is heavier.

Blinking away the tears, you feel the last of your resolve crumble when they press the barrel of a gun to his temple. His eyes are closed, you can’t see him like this, you need him to look at you.

“I need you, Soldat, help, please.” You begin to weep, your own eyes closed now, pressed against the glass, “Soldat, please, s-save, Sol-Soldat.”

The man drags you back to where the shackles were, and lets you go. You fall to the floor not able to hold yourself. Curling against the wall.

The men holding Bucky’s arms are pushed down by him, his hands on either of their necks. The two slump over in his grasp. He stares at the ground ahead. Turning he reaches for his guns before finishing them off.

The remaining four begin to scramble but Soldat doesn’t let them get away. Recognition of the ones who hurt you in your home and in the video. He makes sure their screams reach you in the room across.

They plead, beg, fight, all of it futile.

They lay on the ground.

He picks up the discarded table. The two way glass shatters, the man with scar on his face stumbles back towards you.

You look at Bucky leaping over the shattered glass, boots crunching the scattered pieces.

Your heart shatters like those pieces. You did this to him.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper, his gaze shifts to you. You sniffle, he makes his way over. Needing to protect you. He had to save you.

More men and women pour in from the broken doorway. The woman who found your clip raises her gun and shoots; the bullet ricochets off of his vibranium palm.

He moves swiftly, the movements natural to him. In a moment he has her on the ground moving to the next soldier. Gunmetal permeates the room, you watch as the cavalry trickles in, Soldat’s movements gain agility.

None of them a match for him, he keeps them away from you. One attacks him with a knife, he catches it turning it around and pressing it into his attacker.

His breathing is hard as he remains standing, you stare at him. He moves in and out of focus as he turns. Locking his eyes on you. The soldiers think his gaze on you is his distraction but it is his fuel. His sustenance. His revenge on them.

“Soldat, welcome back, Hail HYDRA.” The scarred man gleams.

Bucky pauses, turning to the man, he stands at ease as a soldier, hands folded behind his back. The smile of the man widens, you feel a fresh wave of tears.

“Would you like to keep her Soldat?” The man questions, “Isn’t anything special, but you may need something to blow off steam. We could even share—,”

“Kotenok (kitten).” His voice has a deeper timbre, eyes on you. You stare at the ground.

“You call her Kitten?” The man raises a brow, “You recognise her?”

This gives you hope, for what you don’t know. If even as Soldat he calls you by the endearment that only the two of you know the reason it fills you with hope.

“Kotenok.” He calls out again, when you look up at him, you don’t feel unease, “Close your eyes.”

You nod, turning away.

Soldat turns to the man again, lips stretched into a snarl. He lunges for the man, two bullets in his legs and the man cries out.

You curl further against the wall, his screams are hoarse, the crunching of bones should make you shudder but a fucked up part of you wants to celebrate as Bucky hurts the man as much as you’ve been hurt.

Soldat doesn’t stop, he lets the man think he has a chance at living. The rage drives him. He never knew he could decide who to harm, your voice calling for him, needing him. Awoke him from a slumber he knew he had to return back toward.

He didn’t need a finality moment to recognise you, it was in his being.

Who you are, what you mean to him.

Every part of him recognised you.

Knew you.

Knows you.

Protects you.

Loves you.

“We’ll get you Soldat.” The man warns in Russian, coughing up blood. Soldat drags him over the shattered glass.

“You won’t.” Soldat assures speaking the same tongue, “This is a warning, the last one. If you try to touch my Kotenok again, or even think of it. Any one little measly one of you, you have to go through me. It won’t end well. You trained me for this didn’t you? You will reap the consequences.”

His metal arm delivers the final blow. He stands making his way over to you. Kneeling, he checks on the surroundings, more people hadn’t come in, the facility was big but not too much man power. He had secured the perimeter.

“Kotenok.” He whispers, you turn, “Open your eyes.”

You follow his instructions, the first thing you see is his chest. You keep your eyes steady, you follow the movement of his breathing, trailing up to his neck then chin, jaw, lips, nose, eyes. You breathe.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out.

“You did nothing wrong. I am sorry.” He assures, flesh hand coming to touch your cheek with such tenderness, you lean into his palm.

“I feel safe with you.” You tell him, needing him to know this side of him does not scare you away.

“Kotenok.” He says as though he doesn’t believe your words.

“I do.” You shift to raise your hands to hug him and then wince as the pain manifests across your body.

“Don’t move, I’ll carry you out.” He says hands moving under your knees and around your back.

Without effort you’re lifted, you tuck your face against his chest not wanting to see the place. You feel the ghost of his lips along your crown. It’s so featherlite you think you made it up.

“You can open your eyes, Kotenok, we’re outside.” It’s dark out, you wonder how long it has been? The facility had no clock and they never told you anything beyond ordering you to be a catalyst.

“Is Alpine okay?” You feel bad for not asking till now, he nods.

“With Sam, the vet checked her, she’s healthy.” Something inside him warms, he holds you closer.

“Okay, that is, that's good.”

Soldat’s jog slows down as the quinjet nears. He asks you to slip in the comm into his ear from the upper flap in his jacket. .

“Bucky? Are you both okay?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“She’s hurt. Need the medical supplies.” His replies are curt.

“What about you?” Sam questions, having the quinjet open, he carries you up right to the first aid area.

Soldat keeps quiet, working on retrieving the first aid boxes, this felt different than before. It wasn’t just him in the forefront with everything else static, until one day his mission turned into his long lost best friend.

It's almost as if Bucky isn’t tucked away but present, just lingering.

“Bucky?” Sam questions again,

“Put the flight path to a safe house, I’ll be radio silent for twenty five minutes.” He says placing the comm back into the pocket.

“Kotenok.” He says you look up at him, the plinth wasn't uncomfortable but you felt better upright.

“Hey.” You greet, “You feeling okay? Are you hurt?”

“Still Soldat, no but I should be.” He says, lips curling in disgust at himself, as he reaches for the scissors taking in the blood coating your clothes.

“You’re still you, I’m glad you aren’t hurt.” You press, he looks down at you.

Nothing further is said, he uses the gauze and saline to wipe away the dried blood and wash the cuts on your forehead and face.

You realise lifting your hands is painful. He has the scissors and cuts through the material. His inhale is sharp as your skin is exposed.

Bruises litter your skin, “I went too easy on him.”

The scissors break in his vibranium arm.

“Bucky.” You swallow, “This is not your fault.”

“It is! He should not have left you alone and vulnerable, weeks on end!” He looks at you.

“They would have attacked and used me against you even if you were there all the time. That was their plan. I shouldn’t have argued with you right before a mission.”

“He could have protected you.”

“And he did. As did you.” You don’t want him to harbour guilt, you know this isn’t a conversation to be had when he’s not feeling like himself. While he’s vulnerable. You don’t know how to navigate this, you don’t know what he needs, it makes you feel helpless.

He says nothing, soaking more gauze to clean the blood from the cut on your side. You shiver at the cold sensation of the antiseptic.

You recognise his duffle bag as he pulls out a long sleeve black henley of his, helping you wear it, along with a pair of your leggings and shoes.

He inspects your lower limbs, small scrapes on the knees and nothing more. Carefully he makes you wear the clothes, easing them on you without triggering the pain.

The scent of the antiseptic mixes with the lingering cologne on his henley. You sigh at the small comfort. He watches your thumb tracing over the sleeves that are longer on you.

“Do you want to keep laying down?” He reaches forward when your face contorts into pain.

“I’d rather keep sitting.” You murmur, “Do, do you have water?”

He nods, moving to the other side and bringing you a bottle, gingerly holding it up to your lips as you drink small sips. He moves his vibranium hand to the back of your head holding you tenderly, fingertips softly tracing over your scalp.

Your eyes fall half mast, the gesture always comforting when Bucky did it, having you pressed against him, protected in his embrace. When he feels your head push into his hand the bottle is removed.

The stray drop of water wiped away by his flesh hand.

“Bucky,” your breath warm over his digit.

“Not him.” He corrects you, thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

“Do you want me to call you ‘Soldat’?” You wonder, trying to search his eyes for an answer as they trace your lips.

“No.” His lips press into a thin line.

The hum is of the quinjet, filling in the silence. You keep your breaths even, deeper ones trickle into pain. Exhaustion lingers in the periphery slowly gaining momentum as the adrenaline retreats. The aches now front and centre but you fight it all, begging yourself to stay awake for him.

“Call me yours, Kotenok.” Your eyes shift to his, there is a nervousness that is palpable within him. The Soldat never deemed himself worthy, he knew you didn’t blame his counterpart for the crimes that drench his palms in red.

You grasp his wrists gently, “You are mine, every part of you, every facet of you. Even the pieces of you that you think are too broken for me, too jagged, that it may hurt me, even the pieces of you that you deem pristine. That you think are worthy. You are mine.”

He closes his eyes, head dipping forward touching his forehead to yours, “You told him once, what he did was not him.” He whispers, “How will you tell me that it wasn’t me? When you know the hands you hold are guilty?”

“You did not do it out of your own accord, you were manipulated and forced.” You keep your eyes closed, the sickening image of the chair comes to life, “That man, he showed me the chair.”

He stiffens, “Did they—,”

“He threatened to, but he didn’t. They took away your free will.” You press a gentle kiss to his palms.

“What if, what if I told you some days I did it just to avoid the punishments? That I willingly shed blood.”

“You tried to protect yourself. They pushed you to it, I know you never wanted to hurt anyone, I know you wouldn’t do it without reason. You’ve suffered enough. It will take time to heal, I know. I don’t expect this conversation to make things okay in a giffy.” You open your eyes, his still closed, gently you press your lips to above his cupid’s bow.

His face contorts, red spreading along his cheeks as he tries to stop the tears. Eyes screwed shut tighter.

“It took too long for me to answer your call, Kotenok.”

“It’s okay. You have me, it’s okay. Let it out baby.” You assure him, “You answered my call. You rescued me. You took care of my wounds. You are taking care of me.”

He shifts, very careful of your injuries, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He holds you, not letting you wrap your arms around him. You grasp onto his leather jacket. Then snake your palm towards his scalp knowing it soothes him when you run your fingers through his hair.

Tears coat his henley that you wear, your own eyes brim with your own tears. He cries, the sobs making his shoulders shake. You pull him closer when he tries to shift away to prevent jostling you.

“Stay.” You meant for the word to sound reassuring but the way it breaks on your tongue, giving away your own selfish need to have him close, “Please, stay. I’m here for you.”

Time trickles on by, his sobs turn softer, then breathing evened out. You keep running your fingers through his hair and along the nape of his neck. You press your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry I made you feel neglected.” His voice is softer, the slight hint of his accent gone, “I, I can’t believe I let you get hurt. Don’t, don’t try to make me feel better by excusing it onto them.”

“Bucky—,”

“I don’t want to hear it, Kitten. Blame me. Scream at me. Be angry with me.” He places a chaste kiss on your neck, “Tell me off, they hurt my kitten so badly.” His arms move gently over your back and then sides.

“They hurt me.” You try to reason.

“Because of me. Because they want him. If I was around I would have caught on.” He argues.

“Bucky—, just, why were you taking so many missions?” You ask, if this is how you would get him to stop trying to blame himself so be it.

He shifts, creating distance to look at you, eyes falling to the bruise. His lips purse as his thumb traces over your cheekbone. Reliving the way you were hurt in front of him.

“I, I began to feel the guilt again. Nightmares started intermittently. I thought that if I did more good, I could outweigh the bad.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your hands rest on your thighs, the wave of dizziness hits you then, your eyes remain downcast. Bucky blurs in and out of view with black spots.

“I thought I could handle it better, I didn’t realise I’d ended up pushing the actual good in my life so far away. You’re so important to me. I fucked up, I’m so utterly sorry.” He grasps your chin making you look up at him.

You close your eyes, Bucky sighs when he doesn’t get to see your pretty eyes. The ones he would find first thing in the morning to be the last sight of beauty before he slept.

“I’m sorry.” He rests his forehead to yours again.

“Please don’t put me through that again, making me feel like I don’t matter.” You request.

“I’m never going to make you feel that way again, Kitten. I promise.” He opens his eyes, breath caught when they find yours looking right at him.

The quinjet lands, bringing on another wave of nausea and pain. Bucky holds you close, jogging the distance to the safe house. Carrying you across the threshold and locating the room, he places you on the bed.

The safe house has a lingering scent of pine and vanilla, the thought makes you laugh that it isn’t what you expected. Maybe hidden weapons and not as though a scented candle store.

Bucky sets the bags down next to the bed. With precise movements he goes through the house, gathering more medical supplies as he makes sure the location is safe. He connects to the communications system and updates Sam in writing instead of a call.

Although it seemed as if Sam knew what may have occurred. The HYDRA base was left finished by him, void of any manpower.

Sam sends in an update that the base is no longer standing. The intel was collected from devices they could garner.

The tucked away part of him smiles, it worries Bucky how there isn’t a barrier anymore between Soldat and him. The way Soldat defended you, took care of you. He knows your safety isn’t something he should be worried about.

“Bucky?” You rasp, he strides to the room.

“Kitten?” He tucks a strand of your hair back.

“Come lay down?” You request, he nods.

“Let me change out of these clothes.”

He walks to the ensuite clean clothes in hand, Bucky notices the way your fingers clutch the sheets as he’s about to close the door.

“I was thinking,” He leaves the door open, taking off his clothes. Your hands relax seeing him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Alpine’s birthday next weekend, we should host a party, get her a party hat. Blue with frills?”

You stare at him for a moment, “You want to get Alpine a party hat?”

“Yeah.” He grins, taking off his pants.

“Okay for a minute I thought this concussion is making me imagine a white fluffy cat in a party hat.” You try not to giggle but the sound escapes you, making Bucky laugh.

The crinkles by his eyes gaining prominence, you want to reach for him.

“It would be cute.” He defends.

“She’s going to gauge our eyes out.” You chuckle.

“Nah we’ll get her nails clipped so she can’t.” He teases, putting on his shirt and making his way to bed.

As he settles in next to you, you shift despite his protest to have you lay to not aggravate any injuries. You shoot him a glare.

“Alright, alright.” He raises his palms facing you in defence, wrapping them around you when you cuddle against his chest.

You feel his steady heartbeat, the gradual rise and fall of his chest. The heavier dosed painkillers work wonderfully but the exhaustion pulls at you.

“I want to stay awake.” You whisper.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead in promise.

“I’ve missed you.”

He stays quiet in the wake of your admission, “I’m sorry I made you miss me this much.”

“I meant what I said, about loving every part of you.” You remind him. The exhaustion lingers in and out.

Bucky presses his lips to your forehead again, Soldat shifts forward for a moment, fingers moving as he gently tilts your head back to meet your eyes, “Thank you for trusting me, Kotenok.”

His lips brush against yours, more hesitant, you shift closer.

The kiss is soft, Soldat learning the way your lips taste. He pulls away, taking you in for a moment, his muscles relax but not completely.

“I don’t know how to keep him tucked away again.” Bucky admits, “I knew he was there…”

“I’m sorry–,”

“Please don’t apologise, I’d rather have you being the one calling out to him rather than anyone else.” His thumb moves over your cheek.

“I won’t apologise if you don’t apologise about me getting hurt. I’m not talking about you taking missions, I’m talking about blaming yourself for what happened at the base.”

Bucky sighs, breath fanning across your lips, he contemplates your words. Mind reflecting on everything that happened.

“You have yourself a deal.” He says, you smile.

“Now about you being an idiot of a boyfriend. After we wake up you can grovel.” You poke his cheek, Bucky laughs.

“Alright, kitten. I’ll get on my knees too.” He teases admiring your smile then wraps the blanket better around the two of you. Your eyes slowly flutter close.

Bucky stares at the ceiling. Soldat allows himself to feel you in his arms.

Bucky closes his eyes, joining you in slumber.

bucky permanent tags: @slutforsexyseabass

permanent tags: @stevesmewmew @pandaxnienke

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stvrdrops · 10 months

Note

Bodyguard shuri x reader ! It’s been on my mind for saurrr long

yess! i love this idea so muchhh. wasn't sure if you wanted it to be like a fame au or anything so i just went for it in my own way :) it's kind of just a tiny imagine, hope that's okay!

princess protection ☆ | bodyguard!shuri x fem!reader

when you begged your mom to lessen your security you never imagined she'd actually do it. even more shocking, to replace them all she brings in your nation's protector. shuri, the black panther, is now in charge of making sure you were safe and protected. maybe in more than one way.

warnings : none

word count : 2.1k+

being the princess of a nation was no small task. you were constantly attending political meetings, beautiful galas, and even doing community service for those around you. you loved being out and about, rather than confined to the palace.

your mother, the queen, often feared for your safety. of course you had quite the entourage of guard ready to protect you wherever you went. you had people trailing you with weapons ever since you were fresh out of the womb. it never scared you, but you never exactly cared for it. it made you stand out even though you loved to be the star in the room. you begged and begged your mother after your eighteenth birthday to lower the amount of guards trailing you. you realized it made you still feel trapped despite being out in the open. besides, wakanda was extremely safe other than the occasional invasion, which was swiftly put to rest by your nation's protector. the black panther.

she constantly refused, saying that you were the future leader of the nation and needed to be protected adequately. you quickly gave up hope and moped around the palace for a solid year or two before your mother finally caved in.

"mother? what was the urgent call about on my kimoyo beads?" you ask her as you step into the throne room. she had her back to you, obviously speaking to somebody else.

"ah, y/n! i have a surprise for you." she quickly turns around, still shielding whoever she had been speaking to. you attempt to look around your mother. she notices this, and steps aside.

your eyes widen when you see the black panther standing before you. her helmet was off, allowing you to see her face. you hardly ever saw shuri without the mask. she was always on missions or you were always out of the palace when she had been home in the lab. your paths never found a way to cross despite running in the same social circles. it had to have been at least an entire year since you were in her presence, considering she had been on a major mission.

"princess." she says, a charming smile spreading across her face.

"um, hi." you say, feeling your mouth go wide. she had gotten much more attractive since the last time you saw her up close. you two were close in age, so it wasn't like this crush you had was new. when you were younger you spent a decent amount of time together, but were never close.

"shuri's missions as the black panther have become less and less high priority. she's doing an amazing job so i'm assigning some of her more easy missions to the dora. while she truly deserves a couple days off, i've decided she will be your personal bodyguard until she is needed. she will be your only bodyguard may i add."

no way.

shuri laughs, "oh trust me, this is will be a good enough vacation for me. after all, i'm sure the princess can't get into too much trouble."

"you underestimate me." you say, with a challenge in your voice.

"noted." she responds back, willing to accept your challenge.

the tension between you two is so thick that not even a vibranium spear could cut through it. shuri kept her eyes squinted as she looked at you, as if she was studying you. to tell the truth, she had been quite excited about this mission. spending time with the princess would be a dream, she thought. also, she presumed it would be fairly easy as well.

you looked at her in the same way, but you were more undressing her with your eyes.

"y/n, do you still need to visit the market today? i know you said something about stopping for some new silks."

your eyes are ripped away from shuri, "oh, yes! thank you mother. shuri, i'll give you time to change out of your suit and then i can take you for a test drive."

shuri laughs, "no need." she presses something on her suit near her wrist. causing the suit to dissipate into a necklace. she wore a tight gray outfit underneath the suit. you couldn't help but feel like an idiot thinking about how she might've been in just her underwear under the suit. "i'm ready whenever you are, princess."

you smirk, walking away from her. you don't bother looking back to see if she's following you. her quick footsteps gave it away. it also helped that she was taller than you, her shadow looming slightly over your body.

"you do know that you don't have to loom over behind me, right?" you say as you look through the many silks at the stall.

"where else am i meant to stand?"

"how about next to me? i don't think i'd kill you."

she scoffs, "you couldn't kill me even if you tried."

a smile spreads across your face, "cocky."

she moves over to the side of you, causing your hands to brush slightly. you contemplate whether or not you want to meet her eyes for a second. ultimately your curiosity gets the better of you. when you look up you see her staring back at you. her eyes were dark brown, but you could see a sparkle in them. you could now also clearly see the tiny scar on her forehead that her hair almost nearly hid.

when she looked at you she noticed how beautiful your own eyes had been when exposed in the sunlight. she studied every beauty mark on your face that the pictures never quite captured. shuri obviously knew you were beautiful, but now that you were up close after all this time it had been impossible to deny your beauty. she had a task to complete though, meaning finding your beauty too blinding would be dangerous. if she was too consumed by you, lost in your chocolate river eyes, she couldn't focus on the task at hand.

"do you like this one?" you ask, picking up a random silk without breaking eye contact. you didn't want to look away from her.

shuri's eyes glance away from you for a second, "i think orange is a beautiful color for you, princess."

you wanted so badly to be a smart ass and tell her you had a name. however, hearing the word princess roll of her tongue did something dangerous to you.

"princess?" a voice calls out to you from the sea of people.

you had never seen someone move so quickly the way that shuri did as she got in front of you. the two of you didn't even know who the supposed threat was, but shuri couldn't help but go into her defense stance.

"princess! hello!" a woman makes her way out of the crowd. you recognize her as the caretaker of the orphanage you often help out at.

"stand down shuri, it's okay." you say, putting a hand on her arm to get her to relax. she looks over her shoulder back at you, giving a swift nod. her body moves back beside you just as fast as it had gotten in front of your own.

"hello mrs. adabashi! how are all the children doing?"

she smiles, "oh, they are just wonderful! they so enjoy the toys you brought for them last week. little kami has not put down the dolls since you handed them to her."

shuri can't help but admire the conversation as you both talk to one another about the children. shuri was not exactly sure what to expect when your mother asked her to watch over you. it had been quite some time since shuri saw you last and she didn't know your personality that well. now she knew that she had made the right choice in choosing to accept the queen's offer.

the whole rest of the time at the market was spent with you in conversation with shuri. you asked her constantly what life was like as wakanda's protector. you even managed to slip in a question about if she had anyone important in her life at the moment. she found that question amusing and answered truthfully, with a swift no. she claimed that she didn't have any time in her strict schedule to fall into any romances. you figured that if she was spending all her time with you, then it wouldn't matter. you had your eyes on her now, and you almost never got turned down.

the more time you spent with her the more you didn't want the day to end. it made you happy to know that every day would be like this. that was, until she was called back to her panther duties. you assumed that if you ever did get caught in a sneaky relationship with the black panther that your mother wouldn't mind. you could arguably do worse. plus, the nation's princess and protector in a relationship together would do wonders for the people's morale.

"you know you don't have to go, right?" you ask her as you both approach the door to your bedroom.

shuri laughs, "am i supposed to guard you while you sleep?"

"i don't plan on sleeping yet. as long as i'm awake i feel as if you should be on guard."

"who do you think plans on attacking you tonight?"

you look up to her, staring into her eyes. "i'm inviting you into my room and here you are questioning me. will you really deny your princess?"

shuri sucks on her teeth as she looks around the hallway, that same charming smile on her face.

"i can't believe you are pulling the princess card on me right now."

"well, is it working, my panther?"

the nickname being used in such a manner sent goosebumps down shuri's spine. she was meant to keep a professional relationship with you. bast knows that the queen would have her powers stripped if she were to hurt her precious baby. she was meant to protect you from the world, not entertain you romantically. however, she licks her lips as she contemplates the enticing question.

"if you really feel you need my protection."

"badly." you whisper out to her.

"fuck it," shuri says, "whatever you say, princess."

you just smile, knowing you have the most dangerous person in wakanda wrapped around your finger. you push the door open, revealing your room to her. it was large and the windows allowed you to see all of the capitol. even shuri was shocked by its beauty, despite living here all her life. for some reason it seemed so much more special from inside of your bedroom.

"do you like being my personal bodyguard?"

shuri watches you as you go to your walk in closet. she can hear you changing as the sound of clothes being thrown around fills her ears. it takes everything in her to not look.

"i can't say it's the worst job in the world."

"and why is that?"

"something tells me you already know the answer to that."

you walk out of your room wearing a large t-shirt that shuri can tell is american vintage. she could also tell you weren't wearing any shorts when you lifted your curly hair up into a messy bun. shuri can't help but stare as you walk over to your bed. it was nice to see you in a normal state, without all the jewels and fancy clothes. however, it wasn't just that. the way you moved commanded attention and it radiated elegance.

"come here." you beckon to her. it was as if she didn't ave a mind of her own as she followed your command. it made you feel in control, and it was pretty damn amazing. "sit down."

"you are very bossy."

"it is in my nature. i am the future queen after all."

shuri laughs, "that's true. i think you'll make a great one."

the compliment makes you smile, "so you'll remain as my personal bodyguard even when i am queen?"

"of course, i serve wakanda and those in it. that includes you."

"i'm sure there are other ways that you can serve me."

her eyebrow raises, "oh really?"

you nod your head, looking at her with lust in your eyes.

shuri suddenly grabs you and sets you onto her lap. it feels so normal as you straddle her, arms around her neck. you felt like you were the perfect piece to her puzzle. she notices how you arch your back in efforts to feel closer to her.

"so, this is your idea of protection?" you can't help but ask.

"do you feel protected?"

"in the arms of the black panther? oh, most definitely."

you kiss her, allowing yourself to fully envelop yourself into her. her lips feel soft as they glide against yours. if this is what having shuri as your bodyguard was like, then you never wanted it to end.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°✩☼⋆｡°✩☽

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seabysiren · 1 year

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westside

summary: soulmate au! k'uk'ulkan finds solace. he finds home. he finds the warmth he's been craving since the passing of his mother. he finds you.

there's been a change in their king. the people can feel it. it warms the water and leaves a bright smile that fills the void in his eyes. the wrinkles around his eyes don't hold the weight of the world. there is no longer an endless longing buried beneath his benelovence.

no one knows why he changed. but they can feel it. and it makes them happy.

no one knows his secret.

the name he keeps close to his chest. it curls around him like the embrace of his mother. it keeps close and calms him.

the precious ink that stains his skin feels too precious to show off. he almost feels selfish. knowing that there is finally someone for him.

his little secret is kept underneath the layers of pearls and jade. protected in the vibranium necklaces, shielded away from prying eyes. its kept away from wandering eyes, with only his generals who know of his fate. but even they know better than to speak of this matter.

of his soulmate.

but k'uk'ulkan feels conflicted all the same.

his soulmate must be from the land dwellers. no foolish talokanil would hide the pride in becoming the mate of a god. of their god. their king.

there's a part of him that's afraid.

afraid that his mate would be cut from the same cloth of the colonizers. someone who is cruel and merciless.

he's afraid of liking someone after all these years. a land dweller.

a mortal.

but just like his other feelings, he tucks it aside.

because gods do not yearn. or beg, or hope.

because that is selfish. and k'uk'ulkan cannot be selfish. no matter how his heart soars when he traces the delicate ink on his skin. no matter how he wants to just disappear and traverse the lands to find them. to meet his mate after all these years alone.

he cannot be greedy. he has to be satisfied that someone was made for him. no more. no less.

because talokan is the priority. he has a people to protect, no matter who is waiting. no matter if he meets them or not.

because k'uk'ulkan is talokan's god.

and he cannot show weakness.

he keeps to himself when he is not checking in on his people. when he is not patrolling the ocean for any possible threats to his people.

the people who know him as k'uk'ulkan know nothing of him.

of how he dedicates his time to painting murals of his experiences. of how he loves the silence as the water laps on his skin. of the shiver that crawls upon his skin when he visits empty beaches in the middle of the night.

he likes to watch the sky. he likes to close his eyes and remember the voice of his mother when she pointed to the murals in the sky. of the legends they leave behind, and a small light to guide the lost.

for once its peaceful.

he takes a moment to just breath. to seperate himself from his role as a king. a god.

his heart beats for someone else, yet he isn't allowed to reach out. for his and their safety. for safety of his people.

he has this constant warmth. its a blessing and a curse. that there is someone waiting for him. reminding him that he has to put his duties first. before his happiness.

he feels broken sometimes. like a shell left on the beach to dry and crack alone, buried beneath the merciless grains of sand and the desperate drops of salty water.

and when the sun rises, he is gone. unknown to the world. back into the vast waters.

they say you can feel when you meet your soulmate. that there's a bright flash of light. or time seems to slow down. that their touch burns.

they say its like coming home after wandering, lost in a endless blizzard.

they say it is magical. something you can never forget. something to replay in your head over and over again.

it feels like coming home.

you didn't expect anything. there's seven billion people on the earth. there's aliens who attacked earth. some strange giant who destroyed half the population and heroes who brought them back.

statistically, it is unlikely you will ever meet your soulmate.

but there's a small hope in your chest. a small candle that you never extinguish, never feed. it stays the same as years pass by. as you meet people and gain experiences.

there's a part of you that feels empty. insecure. maybe this is your fate. ununique. unimportant. a side character without a story to follow.

that maybe the universe gave you someone out of your reach.

the people around you say it takes time. that you'll know when you're ready. you've got a long time ahead of you to enjoy.

you're impatient. and greedy. and above else.

lonely.

you want someone to come home to. to embrace. to hold close. you want your picture to be complete. but right now the puzzle is broken and you've lost the last piece.

so instead you try to fill the void. you meet people. go on dates. make friends and laugh.

there's a part of you that still doubts. that reminds you that you should save yourself for your soulmate. that there's no point in trying when every date has ended in failure. making you feel worse than the day before.

it doesn't work. despite having friends it feels like you don't belong. you're in the conversation, yet no one realizes when you disappear. no one says anything when you say nothing. no one is looking at you.

so you keep to yourself. keep your eyes down and your dwindled hopes away from the winded torments of life.

you wander aimlessly.

and today, or rather, tonight you found yourself at the beach. away from the large parties and hotels. away from the bustle of the locals and villagers. of their happy smiles and happy embraces.

you don't care that the wind nips at your face. it makes your eyes water.

for once, it feels like peace.

there's a sense of serenity that sits in the pit of your stomach. it clings to you like the grains of sand on your bare feet. you submerge yourself halfway into the salty water. the warmth washes over you, a reminder that even when the sun sets it isn't completely cold and desolate.

the wind brushes your face and gently caresses stray strands of hair from your face.

you pay no mind to how your trousers cling to you, wet and heavy. instead you distract yourself with the warm sand beneath your feet. smooth and pliant.

you run your hand across the water, letting the salt stick to your skin as you make small waves around you.

the beat of your heart is slow as you look into the vast ocean. endless. warm. an embrace you never knew you missed.

a silent melody reaches your ears, urging you to open your eyes and look. something pricks in the back of your neck. to look.

something is there.

a sharp breath escapes you when you open your eyes, looking straight at the figure in the water.

he is far. yet it feels like he's close enough to where you could feel the heat emitting from his body.

his bronze skin glistens in the cool colors of blue and purple. he looks foreign. far different from how the locals dress. or the tourists. his body is almost bare except for the extravagent jewelry that anoints his body.

it feels like a dream. your heart beats wildly in its cage as he slowly approaches. his eyes scorch straight into your figure, and you shiver. it feels like being cornered by a predator. it feels like the end.

yet the tips of your fingers tingle. you can feel the exciement in the air. the serenity that had made its home in your body only seems to grow stronger as he approaches.

he stops, right in front of you.

he doesn't say a word.

you feel his dark, warm eyes rove over your figure. his gaze briefly flickers to the background around you before honing in on your face.

this stranger is breath taking. you never met someone who truly felt like they stole the air out of your lungs. never made your heart beat heavy like a drum.

the skin right above your collarbone burns. right where ink stains your skin.

you gulp.

his voice is deep. a nice, low baritone that washes over you like the small waves from the ocean. it feels like the sun came back just for you. to shower you in warmth and embrace you with the hold of a lover.

he utters your name. low and breathless. you don't know how he knows your name. but it feels right.

it feels right in the way that his plush lips form to say your name. how it comes out almost like a purr. uttered softly, like a secret only you are allowed to know.

his movements are slow. almost like you are the prey in front of him. a tiny bird waiting to flee at the first sight of danger.

he cups your cheek in his large hand, gently caressing you as you inhale sharply.

there's no bright light. no time stopping. no feeling like you've been welcomed home.

there's only peace.

for once the small voices in your head do not whisper their insecurities.

his gaze is intense as he pulls away. you call his name. the one that you've spent ages staring at.

his eyes widen.

his heart flutters like the wings on his ankle.

for once it is not namor.

it isn't sin namor. it isn't k'uk'uklan.

its his name. the one his mother used when she was still alive. he had almost forgotten it. because when he had his mother he was allowed to make mistakes. to learn.

before he became the king. when he had to grow up and choose talokanil's happiness over his own.

k'uk'ulkan is a god. namor is a ruthless warrior.

but to you. he is not a god. not a king. not a murderer who endlessly tried to avenge the suffering of his people.

to you, he is but another person in the world. without the weight of a hidden kingdom. not a freak mutant. not a little, helpless boy.

and for once, the both of you feel like you've found what you've been looking for.

home.

#namor x reader #namor x you #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan x you #namor fanfiction #namor imagine #tenoch huerta #wakanda forever #gn reader

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lunarspiral1127 · 4 months

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*SPOILERS*

So, assembling the team with Hank first. We even get to see Hope as a child and like in the main universe, he hates Howard. Him hanging up the phone the moment he heard his voice was a bit funny.

We even get Goliath AKA , which I'm glad cause he didn't make any more appearances since the Ant-Man and The Wasp movie. So, I appreciate that he made another appearance and is gonna get a role in this episode, even if it's in an AU.

There's also young T'Chaka and I got some questions about this universe's Wakanda. T'Chaka's father was an ally during WWII? Why?How did they get him and his country involved? Also, he gave the vibranium that was used to make Captain America's shield?! \

Then there's Bucky....oh, Bucky. 😢 So, the Soviets got their hands on him as the Winter Soldier. And, as much as I like that Peggy recognized him, I really really REALLY hope they do something to save him when and after the Ego issue is resolved.

#what if #what if...?#what if season 2 #episode 2 #episode two #what if series #what if spoilers #disney plus #disney+#marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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reylatargaryen · 5 months

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My first Helluva Boss OC in my Helluva Boss AU. I think since it would be a long post then it would be divided into volumes. So let’s go!

VOL. 1. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Rhea Daegarys, previously crown princess of Vardarys (The Great Vardaryan Empire) and current Dragon Empress - ruler of state, protector of the empire and it’s inhabitants. I’ve gone so far that with her I started to do some more world building to Hell and created not only her but a whole new hellish race: Draconicus’/so-called Draconic Imps (which were there from the very beginning of Hell’s creation and were there for long till Lucifer’s fall and which WAS and IS the main dominant power of Hell despite Luci became the King of Hell) and their domain, heavily (and mean HEAVILY) inspired (mostly) by Valyrians, Old Valyrian lore and Dragonlords of ASOIAF universe and other related fictional places that has “the mightiest, most advanced and unstoppable empire/kingdom ever” vibe (Numenor, Atlantis, Fire nation, Asgard, Wakanda, Nilfgaardian Empire and etc.) It’s like a “what if” thing: what if Valyria, it’s population and dragons weren’t erased by the Doom and instead were thriving and existing to the very modern days with evidence of the great, ancient, magnificent past visualised, first of all, by grand architecture and also unique culture and traditions (most of them are adapted to modern standards) but with modern day features like high technology, TV, malls, shops, hotels, subway of all empire, grand central railway station which routes to other hellish rings (and special deeps which also lead to other rings of Hell, which work like Bifrost Bridge from MCU and vast enough to pass a dragon of every size without any problems or harm to creature or it’s rider) and etc.

What if there was similar analogue to Valyrian civilisation/race in Helluva Boss Hell world.

Yeah, it’s like a mix of a fictional fantasy land with advanced modern day megapolis. All in all, I imagine Vardarys (The Great Vardaryan Empire) like modern day Valyria (which even in ancient times already was a dominant, highly advanced civilisation) with Wakandan high (nearly sci-fi) technologies which ahead the rest of Hell (and of course with a presence of a super metal — local analogue of Vibranium and Valyrian steel) and a thing such as invisible protective shield that cover all of imperial territory and make it a pretty isolated place cause besides native race not so many are allowed to live here (Valyria was isolated too by the way, even without special protection):

The main aesthetic (first of all, in architecture) is obvious

The uniqueness of territory in which Vardarys locates explained by the border between Wrath ring which has big amount of volcanoes and canyons with vast spaces (the best environment for fire-breathing creatures) and rich soil (thanks to the same volcanic activity) that makes Wrath the main ring of Hell in economy and agriculture

And Gluttony ring which has tropical climate and environment to help to damp up the dryness of Wrath and grow any kinds of tropical plants, which also need the big amount of water to grow. The border between these two rings creates a place that mixed the best traits of these rings (the same as Valyria which despite being volcanic peninsula also had tropical humid climate and was affordable enough to grow green without any problems)

Like that:

That was the geographic, ethnic, geological and climatic volume part of this hellborn race/civilisation.

The next volume will be about racial/physical Draconicus’/so-called Draconic Imps differences from other hellborn races and mostly Imps.

#helluva boss oc #helluva boss au #helluva boss art #my oc art #helluva boss #my ocs

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Sleep Alone

Sweet Treats AU Masterlist

Bucky being a bitch.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍫🍫🍫

Birdy’s snoring by the time you get home. Bucky carries her upstairs and lays her down on the guest bed. You cross your arms as you watch from the door and he shuts off the light with his vibranium hand as he nears. You back up as he pulls the door shut behind him.

You take a breath and let it out slowly. The floor creaks, underlining the silence. The tension between you rises like murky water.

“What?” He asks dully as he puts a hand on his hip, pushing back his dark jacket.

“Why’d you do it?”

His brows tilt and his lips curve slightly, “what’d I do?”

“You know.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, turning to continue down the hall. You follow him to your bedroom and he sheds his jacket. He hangs it as you linger along the threshold.

“She’s sensitive. Vulnerable, and you used her knowing full well how Steve would react. That it wouldn’t end well for her.”

“She’s back here,” he snaps, “isn’t she? Safe, like you wanted her. Don’t bitch at me.”

“You couldn’t let her go with him, we both know that.”

“What you think isn’t what I know,” he retorts as he rips away his straight tie, “but go on and tell me what’s what. You always were good at that.”

You drag your hand down your cheek and gently close the door. He continues to undress as you go to the bed to pull of your heels and rub your arches.

“You know I can’t stand him, right?”

“Is that so?” He challenges.

“He’s your friend, not mine. At least I thought he was.”

“And your mine,” he reminds you as he shoves down his pants, pulling them away from his ankles and tossing them in the hamper. He rolls his neck as the muscles of his backs constrict, “so stop being mouthy… unless you're gonna get mouthy on something good.”

He turns to you and grabs the front of his briefs. You shimmy free of your dress and refuse to take the bait. It’s just like him to stir the pot and act like it was someone else. His gaze follows you as you drop your dress over the pile in the tall basket and reach back to unclasp your bra.

“I’ll apologise in the morning, happy?”

“Why?” You ask.

“What?”

“For what? Why would you apologise to Birdy? You don’t seem guilty.”

He huffs, “Jesus Christ, can’t I win with you?”

“You win every time,” you turn on him, “stop acting like it’s any different. Like you ever have to compromise or try. Like you’ve lost anything at all.”

“Enough,” he sneers and twiddles his fingers at you derisively, “it’s been a long fucking night and you’re not making it any better.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You snip and regret it the moment it escapes you. You bite the tip of your tongue and cover your mouth.

He glares at you, eyes narrowing as his cheek twitches. You gulp and cover yourself as you stand in only your panties. Suddenly, he’s marching forward and you back into the wall, shielding yourself with one arm as you cower.

He doesn’t do anything. He just stands, chest rising and falling, as he scowls at you. The tendons in his neck clench and his chest flexes. You see the consideration behind his deep blue irises, of every single thing he could do to make you suffer. He shifts back on his heel and retreats.

You wait. For him to do anything but he doesn’t. He goes to the bed and pulls off the top blanket. He folds it over his arm and heads for the door.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he growls, “since you obviously think I’m a fucking monster.”

He slams the door and you wince, leaning against the wall as you let yourself breathe. That can’t be good. You can’t remember the last fight you had. Not like this. Not when you dared to say so much.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper as you slide down to the floor.

#bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #mcu #sweet treets #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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sungbeam · 2 years

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𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐫

▶ choi yeonjun x reader

▶ the year is 5020. as the humans of earth battle the superhumans of titan, a human girl and superboy search for oasis

▶ 1.8k words, sci-fi au, like one swear word, bad soobin, implied character death, angst, fluff

The only thing you knew was space. The Final Frontier. The empty, black field of infinite curiosity and possibilities. You sat in the large window space at the back of your Lunar Lander 5000, back pressed against the curved frame and knees curled to your chest, reading a book. You swiped the holographic page to the left as your eyes scanned the page and soaked up every word there, detailing how the prince professed his love to the main character.

You were shaken from your thoughts when footsteps thumped across the deck towards you. You glanced up to be met with the glittering dark eyes of your own prince. Choi Yeonjun gave you a soft smile as he neared. As you took in the muscled young man who you had fallen head over space-boots-clad heels with, you wondered how you had managed to get him to follow you to the ends of the universe. You were supposed to be enemies, after all... And truthfully, you were only human compared to his likes.

Yeonjun raked a hand through his cropped hair dyed as dark as the world beyond the window. He yawned, settling on the floor under you, leaning his head back to rest against your thigh. "We'll reach Planet PS205 in a few hours."

Thanks to long nights of research, you remembered everything you had ever seen or learned about Planet PS205. It was nicknamed "The Oasis Planet" because of the pacifists inhabiting its surface, as well as its crystalline oceans and tropical environments. The two of you had decided on the Oasis planet in order to escape your Earth and Titan comrades, because it seemed like the perfect place to escape your pasts and create a brand new future together.

You powered your Holo-Nook off with a tap of your finger and ran your hand through his hair lazily. "I could have navigated, too, you know. You were over there for a really long time."

Titans needed less sleep, food, and water than humans did, and you were fully aware of that. You simply worried about him. He always seemed to want to play knight in shining armor when it concerned you.

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes drifting closed, "I can't think while you're doing that, star girl."

You smiled from the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. "That's the point, dummy. I'm trying to get you to let me do the work next time."

"Not a—"

The Lunar Lander lurched and almost launched you across the ship if Yeonjun's head hadn't been holding you down. Yeonjun was on his feet in less than a blink, his body shielding you. You peered out the window next to you, but you could see nothing but an expanse of diamonds and obsidian.

Another impact rocked the ship and Yeonjun's expression morphed into one of mild concern. He turned to you and leaned down to press a kiss to your mouth. "Stay here, 'kay? You have your pistol?"

You patted the gun at your side made of lightweight vibranium and moonstone—the only combination of metal that could withstand the pressure and strength of the microscopic star that powered it. Yeonjun nodded and hurried down the stairs to the lower deck; you were left alone.

Suddenly, the ship you called home for five years seemed less familiar. Every sound made you start and you strained to hear if Yeonjun had found something. You unhooked the pistol from your belt and held it out in front of you at the pilot's deck illuminated with bulbs of concentrated sunlight.

You stood from the window sill and stepped toward the stairs. "Jjun?" You called out.

Nothing.

You descended the stairs down to the lower deck step by step. The motion detector lights blinked on as you stepped on each plate of steel. The lower deck was a maze of congested corridors with an abundance of places to hide, but you weren't trying to go in blind.

You know this place, you scolded herself. You know it like the back of your hand.

A shiver spider-crawled down your spine as you took tentative steps deeper into the ship. "Yeonjun?" You called out once again. You neared a corner and slammed head-first into a hard chest.

It was Yeonjun. He took one look at you, paled, then peered behind him over his shoulder. He suddenly scooped you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all and took off back the way you had come.

"Jjun! What the hell is going—"

"They're here," he breathed and shot up the stairs three-by-three. He set you down on the pilot's deck and bolted for the ship's controls. "Lunar Lander," he commanded, "put the ship on lockdown."

"Yeonjun, who's here?" You asked, watching the stairs disappear under a panel of steel. You rushed to the side panel on the wall next to you and swiped through the x-ray scanning of the ship's innards. "No one else is on the ship."

Yeonjun turned to you, but something behind you made his eyes go wide as saucers. You whirled around, only to find that the once empty window now framed both of your perfect nightmares: a whole fleet of Titan fighter jets, three ships deep, surrounding your puny Lunar Lander. Their crisp, white shells and glossy finish gleamed with the vibrant lights of the surrounding galaxies.

Your heart leapt into your throat. The Titans found you.

"High Prince Choi Yeonjun—stand down," ordered a solo jet at the front of the fleet, "or the girl will die." The voice boomed throughout the pilot deck and reverberated through your bones. You recognized that voice. You once trusted that voice—found comfort in it.

A hand intertwined with yours and you glanced up to find the High Prince standing beside you again. He threw his shoulders back and tilted his head up, regale spilling off him in waves. He was the spitting image of his father in such a pose.

You knew what he was going to do. And… just this once… you wanted to be selfish. "Jjunie—"

"I have to go, star girl," he murmured, his voice barely audible. He connected gazes with you and he lifted his hand up to your face to caress your cheek with his thumb. "They'll kill you if I don't."

"They're going to hurt you." Your voice broke and you swore you saw something gleam in his dark eyes. "Yeonjun, we can fight this. We have my galaxy jumper. We'll find a new planet, a new—"

His thumb stopped on your cheek then gently swiped away a tear. "Then what? They'll just find us again and again."

He stepped away from you, putting an ample amount of distance between you and him.

Your lips parted, and you couldn't tell if the rate at which your heart sped up was from fear, shock, or both. "Yeonjun. You're just going to give up?"

"Can you break up faster?" Drawled the pilot in the front solo jet. In the pilot's cockpit sat second prince Choi Soobin. He yawned. "Stars, this is like watching one of those stupid Earthan soap operas."

"Oh, shut up, you backstabbing son of a—"

The jet fired a single beam of silver light and the Lunar Lander lurched once more as if it was an earthquake on Earth. "There's more where that came from, lovebirds. Clock's ticking, hyung."

Yeonjun bared his teeth at the window and his hand hovered over the pistol strapped to his belt. He took it out and twirled it in his palm, the way he did to fidget. Your heart rocketed and you thought for a split second he would turn up the power to max and blast the window…

Instead, he slowly turned the barrel to aim at you. Your heart stopped.

Tension pulled at his muscles and he looked about ready to cry. Titans didn't cry. "Yn, you won't stop me from leaving. You're not going to come after me. You're going to go on with your two hundred more years of life on whatever planet you so choose. I love you, star girl, but you need to forget me."

And then your eyes caught the subtle movement of his thumb grazing the settings on the pistol. Your eyes widened. "YEONJUN PLEASE—"

You started to duck, but Yeonjun was quicker. He fired a brilliant, blinding beam of light at you and you stumbled backwards. You rolled onto the ground, eyes closed and breaths evening out. When you awoke, you wouldn't remember him. You wouldn't remember anything about him at all, so you wouldn't interfere with whatever plans Yeonjun's father had for him.

Soobin chuckled and Yeonjun glared with the force of a supernova. "Man, I didn't think you had the guts, hyung."

The door on the other side of the deck slid open and in marched a pair of soldiers clad in titanium and meteorite armor, masked by visors of moonstone. They both boasted impressive rifles, a more advanced version of the pistol in Yeonjun's hands.

They seized the High Prince by his arms and he let them. His gun was confiscated, but he stared at your unconscious form curled up in the corner. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Yeonjun felt the weight of vibranium cuffs locking around his wrists. With a click, his doom was sealed.

"Great, now what?" He fired back at the Titan fleet.

"Oh," sang the second prince, "just one more thing."

From the same doorway emerged one more soldier, but this one didn't have a gun in their hands. The truth dawned on Yeonjun even before the soldier reached your body.

"No!" He thrashed in his captors' arms who only strengthened the power of his cuffs. Yeonjun hissed as pain seared through his arms and he buckled to his knees. "Fuck you!" He spat at the soldier picking you up like nothing more than a rag doll.

"Fuck you, too, traitor!" Yeonjun roared at the window. "She trusted you like a brother!"

Soobin tutted and Yeonjun could finally catch a gleam of his own brother's mocking face in the front windshield of the jet. Soobin grinned like a wolf. "Duty calls, hyung. You should have learned that by now."

He turned his attention to the soldier now standing on the outer deck of the ship. "Wanna watch? I should have brought popcorn."

The soldiers holding Yeonjun hauled him over to the massive window. You still laid limp in the soldier's arms, your skin crawling with crystals of ice now.

"Let her go, you son of a bitch! I'm doing what you want." Yeonjun was sweating from the searing heat of his restraints, but all he could see was you. As a human, you wouldn't survive for much longer out there without proper protection.

"If you say so."

As if Yeonjun's words were the magic word, the soldier released your body into space.

One could hear the High Prince’s cries of anguish in the next galaxy over.

a/n: why is evil soobin kinda hot. smth is wrong w me.

txt m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @justanotherkpopstanlol @staysstrays @w3bqrl @y3jiishot

join my permanent txt taglist here

#txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #tomorrow x together #txt ff #txt angst #txt imagines #txt oneshots #choi yeonjun oneshot

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megamindsupremacy · 4 months

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Misc Marvel Fic Recs (Part 6)

mistake on the part of nature by idiopathicsmile

Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face.

"Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

In which an American icon is mourned. But probably not the one you're thinking of.

The Ding Dong War by icewhisper

The year Hostess releases their limited edition Star Spangled Ding Dongs, they all suffer. (AKA no one should let Tony Stark have a credit card and history books never covered just how much of an asshole Steve Rogers really is.)

Look the Devil in the Face by prettybirdy979

It's increasingly becoming a world where the unbelievable happens every day. The Avengers team includes a defrosted World War Two solider, a giant green rage monster and a man who might be a God; and they battle aliens and magic on a regular basis. It's not too far fetched to believe the Devil walks Hell's Kitchen.

Matt, on the other hand, hasn't realised exactly why his new battle buddies seem terrified of him. It's not like they've even heard the rumors about him being the Devil... right?

Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFears

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

the stone's in the midst of it all by tognia

Sarah Rogers was born to fight an unwinnable war. She wonders how it could be, sometimes, that she gives birth to a boy who does not understand defeat.

and there will be music despite everything (sw/mcu au) by QueenWithaBeeThrone

She imagines it--waking up alone, scared, disoriented, not knowing who or where she is, terrified at every little thing. She imagines never knowing for sure. “Yeah, real lucky,” she echoes.

“Wish I felt that way,” says Foster.

or: Darcy Lewis, intern to Anakin Skywalker, not that either of them know that last part, and the time before they hit a man with their van.

Barnes and Rogers and the Goddamn Truth by orphan_account

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

How to Woo the Winter Soldier by writeonclara

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

Embrace the Fire: The Avenger Games by lorata

Trust me, and I'll give you something better than a Mockingjay. I'll give you the Avengers."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Trust me, and you'll see."

Non-powered alternate universe fusion: the Avengers in Panem.

devil's gonna follow me (wherever i go) by Lyaka

The man who used to be Bucky Barnes lined up his shot. His finger twitched, only once, very precisely.

Help me, the bullet sang.

Ninety-eight floors below him, the bullet glanced off a vibranium shield with a musical ping.

And Steve Rogers looked up.

the sirens and the thunder by letege

“Hide that,” he says, forcing the words out past every instinct. “As well as you can, all right? Before morning.”

Steve stares at him blankly, like he needs a moment to work this out, then swallows once, sharply. "What's your name?" he asks at last—asks as he stands there with the pelt in his hands.

And oh, he thinks suddenly, what is his name? He can’t speak it, not with this mouth, he can’t sing it into the air like he can in the ocean. He just shakes his head; like his nakedness, it’s something he can't explain. Steve nods, just nods, his eye swelling shut and blood drying on his shirt collar, and says "we’ll figure it out."

(An AU where Bucky is a young selkie who is accidentally called to Steve and ends up staying around to help this poor, wretched kid not die.)

#mads posts #fic recs #marvel fic recs #marvel fic rec list #fic rec list

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cheeze-and-sprinklez · 2 years

Text

In response to this post I've made before:

I'll probably share some prompts once in a while depicting the moments where that very OC of mine interacting with the Moon Boys OR with other characters OR another OCs too. Their moments in the AU I thought of have been playing at the back of my head and I felt like venting some of it out.

Sorry if there's no actual context about the OC, though I'll have you (the ones who might read this) know that he is an artificial being made of a data who slowly became sentient thanks to the after-effects of the Mind Stone flowing inside Vision's body.

Before JARVIS got uploaded into the vibranium body created by Ultron in the 2nd Avengers movie and became The Vision, JARVIS had a backup data where it extracted from its programming to assist it on milder or minor tasks (eg. internal chores navigation throughout the Tower etc. This however did not NOTICED by Tony or Bruce.

(IF IT'S ILLOGICAL THEN PARDON ME BECAUSE THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FICTIONAL AS IT CAN BE 😂)

JARVIS, now is The Vision, and after MANY OTHER contextual events prior- Gave the said data his name so it could have a sense of belong- sense of being... Alive. So now the OC is practically called as Jarvis (with no ALL CAPSLOCK).

Also ADMITTEDLY treated by Vision like a younger brother he never thought he would have. Oh Wanda is very skeptical about Jarvis at first, now she's an overprotective sister-in-law to him too because Billy and Tommy loved having their Uncle Jay around. (There's a build up event to this too- Might elaborate if there's someone interested at knowing more about this AU 🙈).

TL;DR

Now Jarvis inhabits a body created by another existing Marvel character who is a rather frightening guy from Agents of Shield. Clue: The big bad during the Framework Arc where HYDRA reigns.

(This too, have other contextual build up where I might share if anybody's interested at knowing more.)

This is solely a tribute to my older days of getting into roleplaying way back during 2014. Sometimes, I miss those RP days so much and writing whatever crosses my mind on my phone's note phone could give myself a sense of relief :')

There will be some OCs of my old RP buddy I'm gonna throw in as a tribute too. Thinking how their interactions are gonna be nothing more but domestic and warm.

Wish I could relive those days again but I'm such a wuss when it comes to interacting with people. Totally on me to blame :')

AND ON TO THE ACTUAL PROMPT NOW- WHAT A LONG RANT!!!

🔷 MAIN FIC TITLE - Built This Way (And Maybe More?)

🔶 PART 1/CHAPTER 1 - Being Hooman Is Sufferin.

🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻🔻

[11.30 AM - At a Convention Center somewhere in New York.]

Make it the 6th time where he got himself mistaken as an intern sent by a distinguished vehicle company. The lanyard with some details written regarding the event he attended have a questionable way of laying out the wearer's name. It's written using a bland font not bigger than the size for a newspaper header!

'Jarvis' is written on it. Nothing else came after that particular word. His name. He tucked the lanyard in between his suit, rubbing his eyes from the sleepiness that had been clinging since he had taken his first step in the hall.

Sometimes, he wondered if Anthony Stark, the Iron Man, took great effort in his parenting because...

He glanced at the convention's entrance where locals or people across the world entered the hall, into an event for car ethusiasts. SUPER CAR ethusiasts to be exact.

Ting...

Came a chime from his pocket, a new message;

< Morgan said no, Pepper said no but I said yes. How's the event going? Did you find anything similar like the drawing tacked at the pin-board in her room? >

Jarvis sent him a reply;

< Fortunately, there's one AKIN to it but it didn't come with a unicorn horn sports rim. >

Ting, another incoming message;

< Oh damn... Yep, you guys are right. We'll wait until she's older ✌ >

He exited the chatroom thread. With his phone on one hand, he tugged he strap of his sling bag and repositioned it onto his shoulder. Time to go.

He decided to take a hailing service rather than driving from his apartment to the city. He's not that patient when it comes to traffic honestly and aside from this event, there's another more being held at the other area of the Convention center.

The road is jam packed.

But walking between the blocks and avoiding clogged roads with cars under this summer heat is starting to get to him. To think he is getting this feeble thanks to that...

Curse from the the hidden tomb back at the underwater sea cavern during a covert quest at an estranged island in Egypt. Another special task ordered by his 'observers' who could revoke his 'rights to live' anytime they wanted if he failed to commit to his duty as an artificial being capable of 'multiple feats'.

Yes, he is slowly succumbing to being a human... Flesh and blood, skins and bones...

Though nobody should knew about that... Not the Starks... Not The Visions... Not his colleagues from SHIELD (the observers) and not even the Aria family whom he's feeling far closer compared to the others.

Then again, he wasn't built or programmed to execute any form of extreme measures so feeling feeble while the curse is spreading throughout his body could reflect just as much. What special feats? Even he was left in the dark by the original creator!

It's fair since watching him struggling to live like a human being has been part of his 'active experimentation in the field' for the last 5 years afterall. That sadist fuck. Can't believe he has a relative bearing the same look like he was from Phil Coulson's team.

Except that he is the worse kind of him and he's waiting to claim HIS head when the time is due. The body... Is his property afterall and he is just a stray data who foolishly bite the bait setup by him to permanently host his invention.

Jarvis didn't realize he had walked quiet far from the main convention's building while lamenting the same thought over and over in his head. It's not that jam packed here and there's a bus stop he could take a shade while searching for a ride home in the hailing app.

He's starting to regret this. There's no way in hell anybody would drive here when the roads are stuffed with people heading to the events held at the convention center. Be it commuting via public transport or yourself, there's no difference.

Jarvis tapped on the 'search for a ride' button for the 7th time. The app's indicator kept circling in motion, tracing whoever would accept a ride request from this lonely guy at the bustop fighting against the afternoon's heat.

At a less crowded courtyard of the convention center's area... There is a stunning Mercedes in a shiny granite coating with a none-seeing through tinted windows. The person at the driver seat simply watched the app on his phone ringing over an incoming ride request not to far from where he parked.

He propped one hand on the arm rest of the driver seat, resting his head slightly on his gloved knuckle. A mischievous grin escaped his lips when his app ringing for the 8th time now. He tapped on the screen, accepting the ride at last.

After he locked his phone and the screen dimmed to black, a reflection is caught looking back at 'him' with the most "Are you kidding me?!" expression ever.

The driver's gentle Alter caught him red handed. For making the young man wait eventhough he received his ride request for the past 30 minutes!

As the car cruise to the requester's destination, the gentle Alter of his retreated back deep into their headspace. Someone has to know about this.

Marc has to know about this.

Jake is acting on his own, again.

🔵 TO BE CONTINUED 🔵

I gotta stop for a bit because this post is hella lengthy thanks to my earlier rants as well!

I will continue with the 2nd part later on (maybe?)

Because cliffhangers are fun! 👁👄👁

{And you can visit the link below to read on A03 since I will be uploading both places, tumblr and A03}

#moon knight #marvel oc #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #agents of shield #marvel #moon knight fanfiction #original character

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lokiarc64 · 2 years

Note

Dragonslayer Short (Vibranium Shield AU added): Nightmare

In a dark and empty Void Yang stood by herself seeing the darkness around her and every turn she took she felt afraid, once she turned again she was s then greeted to the sight of a burning battleground, seeing Salem dead and many Grimm dead, but what hurt her the most was seeing Jaune on the ground with his own sword penetrating through his chest and his Vibranium Shield broken in half.

She fell crying crawling to him holding him as his dead body just faded to ash.

She then suddenly woke up in the middle of the night sweating nude in a bead along side Jaune, whom was also nude and sleeping, Jaune was then woken up by her gasp and then pulled her in for comfort telling her it was only a dream as she tried into his chest and with them both holding each other~

Dragonslayer Short (Vibranium Shield AU added): Nightmare

Yang: “Opens eyes”

Yang: “Looks around to see nothing”

Yang: Hello.

…

Yang: HELLO.

…..

Yang: Whe-Where am I?

Yang: ”Starts to walk”

Yang: Ruby!

Yang: Weiss!

Yang: Blake!

Yang (Nervous): Anyone?

Yang: “Stops walking”

Yang: “Looks at shaking hands”

Yang: What?

Yang: Why is this?

Yang: “Falls to her knees”

Yang: …Please, someone.

???: HRRRAAAGHH.

Yang: “Turned around”

Yang: “Eyes widen”

“A battlefield filled with several grimm corpses”

Yang: “Walks toward corpses”

Yang: “Check corpses”

Yang: What the hell?

“SLAM”

Yang: “Turns to see a pale skinned woman lying in her blood”

Yang: Why do you look so… familiar?

Yang: “Spots something near body”

Yang: “Holds up to familiar pieces of shield”

Yang: Jaune?

???: “Coughing”

Yang: “Looks toward a nearly dead knight”

Yang: Jaune!

Yang: “Rushes toward Jaune”

Yang: Jaune, are you okay?

Jaune: …

Yang: Jaune?

Yang: “Shakes Jaune’s lifeless body”

Yang: Jaune!

Jaune: …..

Yang: No, please.

Yang: “Tears start to form”

“Jaune’s body suddenly starts to fade”

Yang: No, no, no, no.

Yang: “Holds Jaune’s body”

Yang: Jaune, you can’t go not like this.

Yang: Please.

“Jaune’s body completely fades”

Yang: I need you.

“A tear from Yang’s eye drops to the floor”

Yang: “Wakes up”

Yang: “Hyperventilating”

Yang: “Holds her head”

Yang: “Looks at her exposed body”

Jaune: Yang?

Yang: “Looks next to her to see Jaune, who is also without clothes”

Jaune (Tired): You okay?

Yang: “Wipes tears from face”

Yang (Sadly): Nightmares.

Jaune: “Sigh”

Jaune: “Grabs Yang”

Jaune: “Pulls Yang into his chest”

Jaune: I can tell somethings wrong.

Jaune: I don’t know what happened in your nightmare but I can assure you it was just a dream.

Jaune: Everyone’s alright.

Jaune: But most importantly your alright.

Yang: “Hugs Jaune”

Yang: Thanks.

Yang: “Closes her eyes while smiling”

Yang: “Snuggles closer to Jaune”

#Rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #dragonslayer #vibranium shield au #ask & answer

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pastelbatfandoms · 2 months

Text

The Red Widow- A Marvel AU

A/N: This is an Alternate Timeline set in the Marvel universe. As I am a reality shifter and this is one of My Desired Realities, most of what I write come from memories as Lilianne mixed with scenarios. So if things seem out of chronological order or "characters" seem different that is why. Also Black Widow is still alive in this.

Part 1

My name is Lilianne Liandre'. But you may know me by My vigilante name Shadow, an Agent of Shield, part time Avenger and X-Men (Woman) but before that I was...well let me start at the beginning.

I don't remember much of my childhood in Canada if I even had one...other than I could speak french and english. My parents and I moved around a lot, then there was a year of my life missing when I was around 6 or 7 I'm still not sure.

But I was told an organization took me in, convinced I had powers they could use, but gave up once they figured out I wasn't ready to learn how to control them.

My parents and I moved to Ohio,that was when I met and became close friends with Natasha and Yelena Romanov. Natasha taught me how to fight, where she learned it she never told me.

Then My parents died in a car accident when I was 9 years old, later I learned it was no accident. I was taken by that same organization that called themselves Hydra, for something called The Widow Project.

It was 1995 I was reunited briefly with Natasha and Yelena but they seperated us again, the sisters went with other girls crammed together in one military vehicle while I was taken by someone who they thought could control my shadows, my literal demons. A master of Mind Control, Baron Zemo...

Where I would be known as The Red Widow.

28 years later...

I woke up in a cold sweat again, another nightmare, the same place like every night. That damn Red Room, the memories haunting me of being strapped down while they tore me from the inside out at only 12 years old.

A familiar russian male accent, calming me, the words soothing "It'll be fine Princess. You can handle this, just a bit more." Zemo did nothing to stop them though even as I begged him too, as he placed his hands on either side of my head and I screamed as they took my choice away.

I gripped the sheets, willing the memories away, as I got up. Even so I punched the wall angrily making a large hole into it, damn super strength powers, the serum hadn't made us super soldiers like Bucky or Steve but we had above average strength and agility.

Shaking off the nightmare that was all too real. I looked around the room, confused at first then remembered this wasn't my room it was a guest room and it belonged to Baron Zemo...yes that Zemo, my mentor, my tormentor (or at least accomplice) and former lover for 10 years until I'd escaped with the help of Bucky Barnes then The Winter Soldier.

I was upset with Bucky for breaking Zemo out of prison, but he insisted we needed his help, so I let it go for now. I didn't have much choice in the matter, I mean I could leave but I didn't want to leave Sam and Bucky high and dry against The Flag Smashers (stupid name btw) especially since Bucky was My boyfriend now.

Oh did I forget to mention that? Yeah we've been dating for awhile ever since we reunited after the snap....Although the reunion didn't start off great.

4 years earlier...

A hand made of vibranium wrapped around my throat, slamming me hard against the wall outside the apartments in Budapest. His icy blue eyes stared into my hazel one's, emotionless and cold. "For the last and final time...who are you?" He ground out his tone sending shivers down my spine.

"Bucky...It's Lili, you don't...remember me..." I gasped around his strong hold.

He froze then, his expression changing as he realized who I was finally. We had been fighting for over an hour, it was about time he remembered me. His grip eased as he released his hold on. His breathing uneven and and his eyes wide with shock. "L-Lilianne?" His voice hoarse with disbelief.

I took a breath, smiling in relief. "Didn't think that would work...Hey Buck."

"I can't believe it. I-It's been too long. You're actually here. It's you." Bucky reached out to touch my face but froze at the last second, his expression faltering before he continued. "So much has changed." He muttered. It was impossible for him to hide his surprise. The snap had only been a year but to them it felt like 5 and it showed the year had left their mark on both of us.

I looked down for a moment. "I know...Maybe we should go somewhere else to talk."

Bucky nodded in agreement, "Yes that would be...smart." His tone as serious as his expression. It was clear a lot was on his mind, I could feel the tension in the air as we walked side by side.

"Let's go to my place. It's more secure." Okay so it wasn't actually my place it was Natasha's she was letting me use it until she got back...whenever that might be....I grabbed the keys opening the tall ornate but worn doors.

The place was small but cute despite being an assassin Natasha had good taste, but then so did I if I say so myself. Even if mine was more on the alternative side and hers was more kitschy.

we walked through the living room and straight through to the kitchen as I opened the retro fridge trying to appear calmer than I felt as I rummaged through it before finding some drinks. "Beer?" I offered him, holding up the glass bottles.

I could feel his eyes boring a hole into me, noticing how different yet the same I was. He nodded, "Sure." His response seemed nervous as he took the bottle I offered him and sat at the round table in the center of the kitchen, the chairs mismatched in bright orange and teal but still cute.

I stood then staring at him, trying to appear calm, detached like I had been bred for but inside I was a jumble of nerves same as him. "So how'd you find me? Where did you think I was this whole time?"

Bucky opened the bottle then taking a drink. After a moment he took a breath, setting the bottle down. "I don't know...I looked all over for you after the snap...when I couldn't find you I panicked...I started thinking the worst. I thought something had happened again." His eyes dropped to the table not looking at me.

I took a sip of my beer, surprised. "Really? last I heard you didn't care what happened to me, I was just a burden. Something you to deal with." But to me he had been my everything. I thought.

A look of confusion spread over his face for a moment before the memories started to resurface, of how he treated her, basically ignoring her while in The Avengers and then going back into cryo sleep. "I was scared after what had happened before...after what I was made to do. I thought it better to keep my distance then risk hurting you that way." His voice was quiet, the regret in his eyes clear.

I just looked at him then still upset. "The Winter Soldier's words then...not yours?"

Bucky gave a small nod, "Yeah, I...the time I spent as The Winter Soldier has always been hazy. I was on edge, paranoid most the time, hoping I wouldn't lose my mind again. I was different then, nothing like I am now. So yes those words were his."

I gave a small nod of my own, not looking at him, "I thought so. Are you better now?" I asked. Well as better as we could be, I knew working for Hydra what they did to the human psyche. Saw what they did to him, what Zemo did to both of us...I took a breath, willing the memories away.

Bucky sat in silence for a few minuetes, reflecting on my question as he tried to find the right words, "Yes, I mean I'm a lot less on edge then before. After everything that I happened, I've had time to make amends to change, I'm still working on it."

I gave a sad smile with a nod, "Me too. I found a balance. I don't work with just shadow anymore." A glow seemed to light up around me then faded as I said that.

Bucky raised an eyebrow in curiosity at that, leaning forward. "You learned more? You use light as well now?" Bucky hadn't thought someone could control both light and shadow.

"Yes. Well Lucifer's lighter side. Demon's don't just work in the darkness. I've been laying low but I do still help The Avengers and XMen occasionally. I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more against Thanos, it's just The XMen needed me and I was helping Yelena."

Bucky nodded in understanding, he knew we had also been avoiding each other at the time. Which seemed petty in the scheme of things. The new information about the demons though surprised him, he knew I was into magic, that I had that potential that's why Hydra had wanted me after all but... "So you actively work with the demons now like as equals? So you can control light and shadow?" His expression was stil stoic but I could see a flicker of something else in his eyes.

I smirked, "Ah yes I was still developing that when you met me...still just being an agent. I can still fight as you saw but yeah things are different now."

Bucky looked impressed, his voice laced with admiration and interest. "I had no idea you were so powerful...controlling both light and shadow. You may be able to give Wanda a run for her money."

I smirked at that. Knowing she had been the one to teach me how to practice real magic, as well Magneto but I decided not to mention that...only replying with, "I had to do something. I only ever worked with them for small things before and what Zemo tried to get out of me...but after I left Hydra and Shield, I made some more deals, they helped protect me." Illyana Rasputin had been the one to introduce me to most of them.

Bucky nodded, still trying to process what I told him. "Makes sense. You said you were laying low after the snap, what have you been doing all this time?"

I sat down across from Bucky then as I answered, "Odd jobs mostly. I've also been working with Natasha and Clint, they needed help with some young supers. I met Kate Bishop, I like her, we became fast friends. But otherwise I've been trying to lay low, May and Coulson know where I am but thankfully they haven't been pressuring me to come back to Shield."

Bucky listened intently at me, then said "Sounds like things have worked out for you. Have you ever thought about coming back to Shield? Maybe we could work together again?"

I looked at him, frowning. "Aren't you worried? what if Hydra tried to infiltrate again?"

Bucky paused at that, as he seemed to mull it over, leaning back his eyes wandered from mine as he gave a small shrug. "Honestly? I haven't had the chance to worry much about it. I've been more focused on...other things."

I look curiously at him now, "Such as?"

The corners of his mouth turned upward slightly as he met my eyes. The look on his face hinted at what or rather who he was referring to. He seemed unsure how to say it but ultimately gave in and spoke, "Such as...you. I've spent the last year thinking about you. I've missed you."

But not enough to come find me....I hesitated for a moment before replying, "I missed you too...despite everything that happened..."

"Despite everything, despite what I said and did. I regret letting you go and I...I'm sorry." It was the closest he'd ever come to apologizing and I knew it took alot for him to say that.

"It's alright...I know you were just protecting me by getting me out of Hydra. I get that you coming after me also wasn't personal, that they made you." I replied a bit softer than before, referring to when he was still The Winter Soldier.

Bucky nodded glad I understood him for who he really was not who they had made him. "It wasn't personal, you know I would never want to hurt you." He said softly looking into my eyes.

"I know." I looked up at him then not being able to contain the emotions in my eyes. Despite the fear of getting hurt again, of losing each other, the feelings I held for him never went away no matter how much I had tried to bury them.

Bucky couldn't help notice the emotions in my eyes. Seeing how much I cared, I always had. "I...I thought I'd lost you. I've carried that guilt with me for a long time. i felt powerless, I couldn't do anything to protect you, I couldn't stop them from...." A sigh left his lips as he shut his eyes to try and block the memories, of Zemo making him hunt me down, to either bring me back or kill me...

I wanted nothing more than to hug him then but I held back speaking softly, "Hey we were both being controlled. You had no choice...I get it...I honestly never thought I'd see you again."

Bucky shifted his eyes from mine, I noticed his hand squeeze around the beer bottle trying to keep his emotions in control. "I'm glad you get it....and I know...I didn't think I'd ever see you again either."

I notice his change in demeanor and knowing he was not good with emotions decided to change the subject. "Oh I heard your working with Sam Wilson now? Falcon? Here I thought you didn't get along."

Bucky laughed slightly a bit embarrassed, taking a swig of his beer before replying,"Sam and I have our disagreements sure...but we work well together. Though I will admit when I first heard he was going to be the new Captain America, I was not impressed."

"Of course not. Wish it was you?" I give him a knowing look, Bucky had been Steve's best friend for well centuries of course he'd feel like he deserved it more...or maybe he didn't and that was the issue.

Bucky looked at me his eyes widening in surprise as he chuckled and shook his head. "You know me too well. Though I think it was for the best. I think Steve would want Sam to be Captain America...It's a different lifestyle, one I'm not entirely ready for. I feel like Steve was made for it literally. whereas I fit better with the fighting and action. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a role like that. At least not now anyway."

I nod in understanding, "I get it. Despite my new...gifts. I'm not sure I want to be front and center or a leader again."

Bucky couldn't help but laugh at the irony that the both of us held so much power yet were content staying in the shadows. "I guess that makes two of us. We're more suited to the fight, not the politics. I don't know about you but I prefer the chaos to those meetings."

"Definitely. I knew there was a reason we got along." i joked. Not like we weren't similar in other ways...

Bucky seemed to relax more then I noticed. he took a long sip of his beer, I noticed his eyes roam over me. And took a sip of my own beer,smirking.

"You know me so well...maybe too well." A playful smirk crossed his lips but he was only half joking.

"Same goes for you." I agreed looking at him, "But that's not a bad thing right?"

"I guess not..." The playfulness in his tone disappeared then, his growing more serious. "I guess we have always been close...you always knew what I was thinking, didn't you?" Bucky shifted in his chair, turning slightly to avoid looking at me. I could tell he was reliving something he didn't want to.

I narrowed my eyes in concern, "Yeah like right now...Bucky what's wrong?"

Bucky took a deep breath before answering, "It's just that...I'm remembering things. The memories have been resurfacing and their bringing back other feelings I was suppressing. I know it's stupid but I don't like thinking about the time I was with Hydra...or when we fought...I never want to be that person again."

I nod in understanding. Knowing just what memories he was thinking of, not just being brainwashed and coming after me but the same thing happening to me as well. "Yeah...me either, trust me those demons are a lot harder to deal with then the real ones."

"that's the thing..." Bucky shifted in his chair, leaning on the table. his voice becoming more gentle, "You're a survivor...I should have known you'd be able to handle yourself as everything that happened."

I sighed,looking down. "I shouldn't have to deal though...WE shouldn't have too." Then I asked him "Do you still get nightmares?"

A hint of sadness crossed Bucky's face then as he nodded, "Yeah...I still get them...you too?"

"Yeah. Almost every night. My guardian demons try and protect me but they can only do so much." Not to compare but Bucky had been an adult when all that happened. Lilianne had been a child, for along time Hydra was all she knew...

Bucky looked pained at my answer, "I'm sorry...I'd take them from you if I could. I know how hard they are to deal with..."

"I know you would. I am grateful you got me out when you did, yeah I was almost an adult and Hydra ended up infiltrating Shield anyway...but at least you tried." I smile at him, wanting to take his hand but not sure if it was time yet.

Bucky looked at me, knowing what I wanted he held out his hand towards me. I smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

"I'm glad our reunion didn't end up in a fight well mostly." I grinned.

Bucky laughed softly, "I guess I've mellowed out with age. You did try and kick my ass."

I scoffed, "You started it. That metal arm of yours hasn't lost it's grip that's for sure."

Bucky smiled back, "That's true. And you haven't lost your touch either. those kicks are still powerful."

"Good to know training teenagers hasn't made me weak." I joked.

Bucky laughed, his eyes lighting up in amusement, "I don't know anyone else that can fight that good, especially with how small you are." He joked.

"I mean I was trained by The Black Widow and then was made leader of The Widows which was ironic." I mused.

Bucky chuckled at that, "I always thought it was strange and ironic for a teenage girl to lead The Widows. I guess being around them helped your skills..."

"Oh yeah I mean I had no choice really..." I trail off at the memories then try and lighten the mood again. "But I'm glad I haven't gotten rusty."

Bucky seems to know what memories I'm referring too, he had been Natasha's instructor in The Red Room after all. But he didn't bring it up, instead he smiled and said "I think you could still kick my ass in a fight...again."

"Wanna bet?" I smirk giving him a look.

A smile spread across his face then, I had his attention now and he was intrigued. He'd never pass up a chance to spar with me. Bucky looks at me a small smirk and hint of confidence appearing on his face. "You think you could still take me?"

"I know I could." I grinned back.

"Is that so? You think you have the upper hand?"

Suddenly I disappear into shadows only to reappear behind him. "I know so." I whisper into his ear.

I noticed Bucky's breath catch in his throat, the smug smile turning into an amused chuckle, "Alright then, I won't argue with that. Maybe you do have an advantage." Bucky gets up from the chair now turning to face me, grinning in amusement.

"Alright I'll make it easy on you. No powers. just strength and skill." I smirk backing away and geasutering for him to come towards me, it had been awhile since I'd had real competition. I was also glad I had worn my black tactical outfit instead of street clothes.

"Deal." Bucky nodded, stepping up. "Cmon on then." I wink at him.

Bucky smiled back at me before raising his fists, waiting for me to make the first move, to see what my strategy would be no doubt. His eyes glued to mine. More than ready.

I smirk, feinting a left kick then use the wall to push off into the air and kick him with my right leg.

The sudden kick catches him by surprise, my move faster than expected as I kick the side of him sending him back a few feet. Bucky kept his composure though raising his guard against me. He took a defensive stance not wanting to leave himself open again. This fight wouldn't be so simple.

I notice his stance, getting him off his feet wouldn't be so easy. Good thing I was quick. I used my momentum to leap over Bucky then, "Surprise." Putting a foot in front of his to catch him off guard. "No one said we had to fight fair."

To be continued...

A/N: Thought this was getting too long, more sparring with Bucky will continue in part 2 and a bit of Angst...cause we know how he is with feelings.

Part 2

#marvel #fanfiction #desired reality #marvel dr #bucky barnes #Baron Zemo #Hydra #agents of shield #Avengers #black widow #red widow #white widow

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magnitudetwelve · 6 years

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@cloneofthecavalry submitted:

The LMD held out the box to Daisy, smiling softly. “I know it’s customary for the anniversary of your birth to receive wrapped presents so I thought to join in.” She spoke after a moment.

Daisy looked at it. Maybe not the top-of-the-line model, or anything like what SHIELD had, but it had been a while since she’d had an upgrade to her personal laptop. Even though it came from an LMD--who she still didn’t trust--the gesture was a welcome one. “A laptop without SHIELD surveillance. Awesome.” There was no sarcasm.

#au: vibranium shield #aucp: outside the normal flow of time (canon ignoring); s5-s6 #mine: vibranium shield

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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Welcome To Avengers Campus P.2 | Post NWH Imagine

Contains spoilers for Spider-Man NWH

*photos from Pinterest, collage made by me*

Read Part 1 | Read Part 3 (Finale) | Main Marvel Masterlist

Pairings & Characters: Jaqueline Elizabeth ‘Jackie’ Stark (OC), Tom!Peter Parker (Platonic/*adopted son type relationship*), Andrew!Peter Parker (platonic), Tobey!Peter Parker (platonic), Tony Stark (nephew), Steve Rogers (platonic/best friend), Bucky Barnes (platonic/best friend), Howard Stark (brother), Natasha Romanoff (platonic/best friend) *pretty much everyone else is a platonic relationship, I haven’t decided who would be a romantic interest* read this note & send me feedback on who you think would be best fit.

Content Warnings: references to Earth-616, spoilers for Spider-Man NWH, mentions of sexism and misogyny. cannon divergence (tony & Nat are alive/Peters are trapped, everyone remembers Peter), smoking. Angst but ends in fluff & mentions of violence, fighting and death (May). Slight Steve slander (sorry) | Female OC (she/her) | unedited & kinda long.

Premise: The group consisting of three versions of Peter Parker and two high school students are in for a treat when they are summoned to meet with current Director of what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers. Young Peter Parker is all too familiar with having to answer to the one and only Jackie Stark, but could he be prepared for what’s in store when he lands in Avengers Campus. Let’s just say the little spider is gonna know what it’s like to be on time out.

Note: this is part two of an AU where the peters are trapped in the MCU world. Please read part 1 for background info on who the OC is. This does diverge from canon, and may turn into a possible series in the future where I go back in time and do a full story on Jackie and her life.

——————-

When the plane landed on the airstrip, Peter (1) felt his heart start to race. His nerves were starting to get to him and was mentally preparing for what would be waiting for him when they arrive to Jackie’s office.

Jackie Stark was a force to be reckoned with. The woman was a super soldier from the 40s lost in time like Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. A true genius in chemistry and engineering—a doctor at that, something women during that time were not encouraged to do as it was believed the woman’s place was staying home to care for a man and children. But Jackie Stark was ambitious.

She went through many hardships as one could imagine. Dealing with egotistical men who downplayed her intelligence and talent. Rarely being taken serious—being called names when she stood her ground. Her younger brother, Howard, was always the one being praised while she stood in the shadows—even when it was her tests and calculations that made Howards designs work. Hell, she was the one who was gifted the vibranium to make Steve’s shield.

But history doesn’t tell you that.

Don’t be fooled now. Jackie loved her brother immensely and was the one to clock him if his ego and arrogance got the best of him. She was heartbroken when she woke up 60 years after being captured to find he along with her husband and son were killed just 19 years earlier. And Jackie barely had time to grieve the life she lost when she woke cause she was immediately thrown back into the spotlight and having to be the hero the world saw her to be.

Now here she was 13 years after waking up from a cryogenic coma as the Director of the Avengers & what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D following it’s fall in 2014. Fury was off planet—helping with the Skrulls, and couldn’t keep track of everything happening on Earth. So after cleaning up what happened with Thanos, Fury passed the mantel to the woman who was the right choice to lead.

After being hidden in the shadows for so long.

And boy was shit hitting the fan the moment Jackie Stark took her position. Wanda had unconsciously taken a whole town under her control, there were rumors of what the Loki that escaped in 2012 was up to, Clint was dealing with his Ronin drama, some mysterious rings belonging to a man named Shang-Chi had sent a beacon, & finally Peter was being accused of Quentin Backs’ murder which then led to the appearance of multiversal villains.

It was a lot for the Director.

So Peter was naturally shaking in his shoes by what her reaction would be now that he had seemed to put the icing on the cake on a shit show. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he casted a quick nervous glance to Mj and saw she was also looking a bit nervous. The others unclasped their seatbelts and followed Happy off the plane onto the airstrip. There was already a car waiting for them and they piled in with Happy in the drivers seat.

“So does Jackie know about them, Happy,” Peter gestured to the others seated behind him in the far back. Ned had taken the passenger seat while Mj and Peter (1) sat in the middle, the other versions taking camp in the far back.

Happy started the car, “Can’t really tell ya, kid. She didn’t say much on the phone—just to get you and everyone involved to the compound. Strange either called her or she saw something and called him—that’s when she called me.”

“Dammit, Strange,” Peter (1)s shoulders deflated. His head perks up a bit, “is there anyone else here?”

“I know Tony is,” that seemed to give Peter a little hope. “Nat is off helping Clint in New York and recruiting that young girl. Banner is helping Wong figure out what’s up with those Rings—and Thor is off God knows where in space with the Guardians.” Happy pauses to think, “I think Wanda is here. Jackie finally tracked her down and is trying to get Secretary Ross to call off Wandas arrest—I think she might be in a meeting with him right now actually.”

That just made Peter (1) deflate again. Hearing Jackie was in a meeting with Ross was not really good news. Especially if the man brings up what just happened in New York.

“Who’s Secretary Ross again?” Peter (3) raises his hand from the back.

“He’s the dude that was involved with all the Accords stuff,” Peter (1) replied, leaning his head against the window to watch the passing scenery. “And a very important dude at that.”

The car ride was quick and quiet. They passed two smaller buildings and the quinjet pad before pulling up to the parking lot in front of the main large building with the Avengers logo on it. They all piled out, with Happy leading them inside and the group couldn’t help but stop at he scene in front of them.

The building was buzzing with life. People were running with briefcases, speaking into earpieces, and conversing at tables while very large screens were mounted on the walls across the reception desk. News coverage was on at least two of them—already breaking the story of the semi-destroyed Statue of Liberty.

There was another monitor showcasing the status of Avengers with their pictures. Peter could see that his name, Nat, Rhodey, Banner, Strange, Sam, Bucky, T’Challa, Shuri, Okoye, Danvers, Thor and the Guardians were all listed as active and highlighted green. Tony, Jackie, Wanda, Scott, Hope, & Clint were all listed as inactive with their pictures highlighted red. Below the Avengers were a list of names underneath the bolded; Newest Recruits. The names were Xi Shang-Chi, Joaquin Torres, Yelena Belova, and Kate Bishop.

Happy strolls up to the reception desk, while the group remains a few paces behind him just staring at the monitors. “Hey, Tina,” he greets, “I need to get a couple visitor passes and Peter here,” he gestures to Peter 1, “needs to get his badge. Could you also let Director Stark know we’ve arrived.” The woman smiles and gets to work.

“What are the names for the passes?” Happy lists the names and gives an ‘I know, we’re working on it,’ when Tina becomes perplexed by hearing the two men behind Happy were also named Peter Parker. They all take their pictures for the pass and Tina hands them to each with explaining that an alarm will go off if they enter a section they are unauthorized to enter. “Tenth floor,” she tells Happy gesturing to the elevator.

Happy thanks her, as do the others and they make their way through the hallway next to the desk towards the elevator. Happy presses tenth floor, the highest level, and they all watch through the glass windows as they ascend. At first Peter thought the door would open and they’d automatically be in Jackies office, but instead it reveals another long corridor with a golden colored door at the end.

As the group begins to walk the hall, the door opens and a wheelchair bound Tony Stark emerges. Despite making a full recovery, he still had trouble walking and there were a few patches of burn marks on him. “If it isn’t the man of the hour!” The man is smiling, which makes Peter (1) even more dreadful. “On this episode of Peter screws the pooch,” now Peter (1) was having flashbacks to 2016. “—Jackie told you to call her if things went sideways and what happened, things went sideways and you didn’t call her.”

“Tony—.”

“Ah!” Tony lifts a finger to stop him. “You don’t have to explain to me, kid. The boss is who that’s for.” He watched Peter (1) gulp and the man sighed, brining his chair closer so he was in front of the boy. “She hasn’t given any sign of anger—and you know that’s when it gets scary when she doesn’t say anything. You’re just gonna have to be upfront an honest, Peter.” Tony leans back to notice the group behind him. “Maybe you’re new friends can help.”

Tony wheels to the side so he could get a better look at the two men. “You must be the spider-guys,” Tony glanced over the Peters. “That’s still weird to wrap my head around. Tony Stark,” he extends his hand and shakes the older Peters hand first before the taller one.

“Nice to meet you, Tony.” Peter (2) greets. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Glad to see you’ve made a full recovery.”

Tony thanks him, “Yeah it’s been a ride. I honestly still use this thing to get Pepper from making me go to the store.” Tony greets Mj, Ned, before turning to Happy. “We still on for Friday? Pep, Morgan, and Rhodey will be joining.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Happy salutes. Tony looks at Peter (1), face becoming solemn.

“I’m sorry about your aunt, Peter.” Peter face falls, but was appreciative for Tonys words. “Jackie will probably set you up here for the time being. But if you feel like you need to get away from suits and spandex wearers for a little bit, give me a call and we can get you to lake house. Morgans been asking about when you’ll come around.”

That makes Peter smile. “Sure thing, Tony. Thank you.”

Tony gives the group one last look over. “Well I best be off then—boss wants to see you, can’t keep her waiting— and I need to get an update on everything your little electric friend stole from the warehouse,” the Peters all look at each other. “Which reminds me, did you get the arc reactor taken from Happys place?” He waits for an answer, but the nervous reactions from the three was enough of an answer. Tony drops his head with a sigh, “Great, now some guy from across a universal pond has my life’s work. Oh well, what’s done is done.” He starts directing the wheelchair away giving one last goodbye. “Good luck with the boss, kid. Hope I don’t find you on the board of the fallen anytime soon.”

“Bye, Tony,” Peter waves, dropping his hand with a groan when the mans back is to him. Happy pats his shoulder and nudges for him to the door.

They approach the golden door with a intercom and keypad mounted on the side below a plague reading, ‘Jaqueline E. ‘Jackie’ Stark, Director.’ Peter noticed a golden outline of an eagle beside the name along with the Avengers symbol next to it.

Happy presses the ‘*’ button on the keypad. There was a buzzing sound before the door unlocks and Happy pushes it open to reveal the very large space that could almost pass as a penthouse. There was glass paneling all around making the room illuminate from all the sunlight entering. The space itself had two levels with a floating staircase in the middle back of the room that connected the ground level to a glass compartment.

Mounted on the long wall where the door was were pictures ranging from the Howling Commandoes, to one of Jackie, Steve, Bucky, Howard, and Peggy. Then there was the original seven of the Avengers taken after Battle of New York. Some pictures had just Jackie and one of the Avengers and at the end of the wall was a more recent one of all the active Avengers taken after defeating Thanos.

Peter eyes traveled the space in awe, as did the others behind him, seeing all the gadgets and cases decked on the sides. The most distinct case to catch their eyes was the compartment displaying the original wing pack Jackie designed and created in the 1940s. It was ancient technology compared to the modern day they were used to, but it was still a beautiful sight to see the Eagles first set of wings. The vest to attach the wings was leather, the wings itself were small compared to later designs. The little leather goggles Jackie wore with them hung on a little mantle beside the pack.

Beside it was another glass display of the wing pack Jackie made after waking from her coma and was the one she used to defeat Stane, Vanko, and Loki. She ended up retiring that wing pack after joining the Avengers, updating it as the years went on. Beside that one was the wings from 2013-2015 and then the destroyed wings from 2016 Steve had ripped off her during the fight in Siberia.

It eventually led to the creation of the Iron Eagle. A golden suit similar to Tony’s Iron Man Mark 85 equipped with wings, an arc reactor and nanotechnology. It was something they created together after the Accords and was ready by the time Thanos came. It was her current suit of armor when active as an Avenger.

“Woah,” Peter (3) traveled over to the displays, admiring the different variations of the wings. “That’s so cool.” Peter (2) also went over, reading over the plaques mantled on marble stands keeping the compartments secured.

Ned had looked out the windows on the opposite side while Mj and Peter (1) slowly walked down the middle between the couches and tables on the ground level. The group met up at the end and approached the long table in front of the staircase leading to the glass floating office. It was then they were able to hear sounds coming from inside. The two doors leading to the office were wide open, and they could see from below a blue hologram that made them all stop short of their movements.

They couldn’t see Jackie, but given the back of the black chair was facing them it was safe to assume the super soldier was in fact seated at the desk.

“I’m not going to argue with you anymore on this matter, Stark,” Secretary Ross’ voice was firm and full of annoyance. “Wanda Maximoff brainwashed an entire community against their will for her little lost romance—she needs to be detained and evaluated.”

There was a huff from the chair in front of the hologram. “Wanda was dealing with grief and loss, Mister Secretary. There was emotional turmoil you are failing to realize and she needs the help of her friends here—not be locked up like some animal.”

“That isn’t your call, Jackie—.”

“Yes it is,” the woman’s voice became hard, done with negotiating. “I am in charge of what happens to my teammates, Ross. We are an independent agency now, and your little boo boo of ordering Rhodey to arrest Steve, Nat, Sam, Wanda, and Vision when you knew a genocidal alien was on his way to do destruction proves you don’t have what it takes to be ordering the Avengers around. The U.N saw to that and realized their mistake with the Accords which is why they chose me—me, Ross—to oversee this team.”

“And now look at what’s happening,” Ross throws his arms up. “Look around. We got a town full of people still dealing with trauma after being mentally held against their will for over a week. That Ronin guy is back in New York,” Jackie gives an amused laugh—obviously knowing something Ross doesn’t. “—And you’re little spider-kid just destroyed half of Liberty Island. Not to mention all he did in Europe just last week. What are you going to do about that?” Chills form on Peters body, cursing in his mind by the news Ross knows about New York.

Jackie makes a sound and Peter can only imagine what her face must look like hearing Ross run his mouth. There’s a little cloud of smoke that leaves the chair, before she speaks. “I’ve sent resources to Westview including the Stark Relief Foundation, counselors, financial aid to the residents, and resources to help rebuild all that was destroyed in the little altercation with S.W.O.R.D—which,” her tone thickens as if she had been waiting to go off on Ross. “—Let me remind you, Ross, the reason Wanda even did what she did was because S.W.O.R.D took Visions body and illegally dismantled him to get back online. They had no authorization, no clearance—they weren’t even supposed to have Vision!” Her voice raises with each second.

“Vision was created by Tony, Banner, and myself with the help of Thor. It was Tony’s A.I system programmed—his work. If his body was going to go anywhere, it was going to be with us.” There was movement in the chair, looking like Jackie was leaning forward. “S.W.O.R.D had absolutely no right to take him and do what they did so if you’re gonna point the blame at anyone then it better be at Hayworth, Thaddeus.”

“Damn,” Peter (3) whistled under his breath. He mentally prayed he’d never be on the receiving end of Jackie Starks wrath—but that prayer might be short lived.

“And you better let S.W.O.R.D know to lawyer up cause I’m coming at them for everything. The stolen vibranium, the stolen tech, the A.I system—Vision,” she emphasized. “Going against his will and making him become the weapon he didn’t want to be—I’m making sure they know you don’t mess with the Avengers.”

“What’s going after S.W.O.R.D going to do, Jackie? Hayworth is detained—as are several members of the agency—the white Vision is out there somewhere. There does not need to be a war against you two.”

Jackie scoffs, “Oh but there needs to be, Ross. Because Vision was an Avenger—my friend, and I’m not letting his memory be treated like a weapon. I’m not gonna let Wanda be subjected to that.” Jackie pauses and another puff of smoke leaves the chair. “Wanda stays with me and that’s final, Ross. I’m done arguing on with you on that—have the U.N get involved I don’t care, but she stays here where it’s safe and has her family.

“As for the Ronin situation, Clint and Nat are on it with our two newest recruits—one of which just accepted last night. So you can stop worrying about that. You have enough wrinkles to show you’re stressed—anymore and you’re gonna start looking like Odin.” Ross makes a sound of offense, but Jackie ignores it. It makes the group quietly laugh, but its cut off when she switches topics.

Another cloud of smoke followed by a strained sigh. “On the subject of Spider-Man, let’s just say my two o’clock is here and I’ll give you an update at a later time.”

“Jackie…”

“You can call me later for an update but I’ll probably put you on hold—like Tony I like to watch the line blink,” she presses some buttons on the side of the chair before adding, “And that’s Director Stark to you, Mister Secretary.” With the final press the hologram image of Ross disappears.

Silence fills the room. A very tense silence that has Peter (1) stiffen when it’s suddenly broken by a slow—almost mocking, clapping sound. Everyone with the exception of Happy stiffens at the sight of the chair slowly starting to spin. The clapping continues and soon Jackie Stark is revealed to the group with a cigarette in her mouth and face reading mixed emotion.

Her claps seize, hand coming up to remove the cigarette after taking a deep drag. It’s hard to read what she was feeling, and the smoke leaves her mouth. “Well, well, well,” her voice is low, tone blank making the heat rise in Peter (1). “If it isn’t the three spiders who’ve been causing quite the mess in my hometown.”

Everyone stays silent, watching as Jackie lifts from her chair to slowly exit the office and descend the stairs. “You know,” she makes an unhumorous laugh. “I would’ve thought being my age in this overextended life I’m so blessed to have,” sarcasm spilled from her mouth, “That I would’ve seen it all.” Her heels clacked against the tile of the steps, making the sound ten times louder due to the silence filling the area. Its hard not to shudder—her entire aura reeks of power and the suit she wore screams girl boss.

A super soldier girl boss at that.

“But imagine my surprise—,” she goes on, and her eyes land on Peter (1)—making the boy freeze under her gaze. “—when I turn on the tv,” she takes another step, “—and see that the eighteen year old vigilante Tony and I took under our wing is being accused of murder. And it’s not just any murder, it’s the guy who I warned him about going after when we had just talked on the plane a week prior. I would’ve expected him to do what I asked and call me—,” Jackies voice hardens causing Peter to shudder. “—but no, he doesn’t. Then when the charges are dropped and he’s facing slander by the media and the public, I would’ve assumed he’d call me if things were getting out of hand. Throw in the fact he and his friends got rejected from MIT because of the scandal—and he has not one, but two people who could possible call and plead a case—he still doesn’t call. Instead he goes to enlist Doctor Strange to do a magic trick.”

She’s now two steps from the platform. “So Bleeker Street magician performs the trick and what happens? It goes wrong,” she lets out another unhumorous laugh, the sound making everyone feel the tension rising with each second. “It goes terribly wrong in fact—because it goes to shit from there.”

Jackie reaches the bottom step before the stairs cut to a smaller staircase on either side to the ground level. She goes to the railing, overlooking the group briefly—letting her eyes travel over the two Peters. “Do you wanna know how I found out about your little adventure, Peter? What my eyes had to witness when I tried checking in on you after days of radio silence?” She turns back to him, but doesn’t let him answer. “H.O.W.I.E, pull up the footage of the baby monitor protocol from the last three days.”

“Right away, Director Stark.”

Peters blood freezes, face becoming red. There was no backing out of this now. “Y-You still have the baby monitor thing on m-my suit?”

Jackie tilts her head. “Did you not think I wouldn’t implement it again after what happened with Beck?” It was a rhetorical question so he din’t bother answering. Jackie finishes her cigarette and descends the stairs on the left closest to where the group was. She places the bud in the ashtray, “Do you know how worried I’ve been these last forty-eight hours? When you didn’t call me after the whole feds coming to your door I can understand—Happy was there, you had May,” her voice slightly wavered at the end, and Peter had to stop the tears from wanting to form in his eyes.

“You’re lawyer got you off the hook—it was good, you didn’t want to my help and I can understand that.” Jackie takes a step forward so she was directly in front of Peter, and with her heels she was just taller than him by a few inches. Peter shuffles under her gaze when her voice becomes low. “But when you didn’t think to call me after those men from other worlds showed up that is where I’m at a cross with you, Peter Parker.”

“Jackie—.” He tries but she doesn’t let him.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, PETER!!” The statement echoes around the office, bouncing off the walls. Everyone was frozen, even Happy from his seat on the couch. They all just watched in stunned silence while Jackie Stark made sure Peter understood the hell she had been through not knowing anything. They wanted to step in, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. “I had to watch the footage on the news about what happened at Happys apartment complex not knowing if you survived that explosion. Strange wasn’t answering my calls and it was all because you trapped him in the goddamn mirror dimension—what were you thinking!” He flinches, biting his lip.

Jackies eyes had shined, almost like she wanted to cry by how angry she was and the dread thinking Peter had died. “And you couldn’t even respect me enough to let me know you were alive. If it hadn’t been for Happy calling me from the police station to let me know what happened I would’ve dragged your ass back here so fast you would’ve wished Goblin succeeded.” Hell even Peter 2 & 3 were shitting their pants at that statement. Both felt bad for their alternate counterpart—hoping Jackie would eventually calm down because Peter looked like he was about to break any moment.

“If I hadn’t implanted that monitor I would’ve never known what you were up to—and you’re lucky I didn’t intervene when I should’ve—that I believed you would succeed in your plan because I was this close,” she brings a hand up fast to pinch her fingers. “—I was this close to not caring what happened to those guys and killing them myself if it meant the chaos would end. I wouldn’t have cared if they were cured or not because the damage was done and I wanted you safe.”

“So if these two didn’t show up when they did—,” she points to the two Peters, startling them. “—with the knowledge they had to help and make those cures work, then I would’ve done so. I believed in you three—believed in you.” Jackie had leaned forward when she had went off and straightened her posture the same time HO.W.I.Es voice entered the room.

“Footage is ready, ma’am.”

Jackie doesn’t move her eyes off the boy. “Play it.” The table behind Jackie projects a blue screen similar to how Karen did in the plane. Immediately all eyes are on the screen, witnessing the multiple video clips from Peters suit that recorded from his perspective the chaos unfolding the last several days.

The two Peters moved closer, both in awe and baffled by what they were seeing. Video footage filled the projection. There was a clip of Peter 1 fighting Doc Ock, the fight against Strange, creating the prototype cures in Happys apartment—which led to the death of May. They all had to turn away at that—Peter (1) becoming emotional and having to look at the ground. There was the explosion at the apartment, the lab with all the Peters, and finally the final battle at the Statue of Liberty.

The entire time the footage was playing Jackie kept her eyes on Peter (1). Her face was blank and hands were on her hips. It was not the type of look one wanted to receive from Jackie Stark, and Peter wanted nothing more than to avoid her gaze but was literally frozen in place.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen,” She finally spoke after the footage ended and H.O.W.I.E closed the projection. All eyes went to her. “I do not want to know why you didn’t call me. I don’t want to know why you felt the need to do what you did and I don’t want to know what all happened—I already have an understanding from the footage,” she lists off her fingers with each point. “—What I care about now is how we go forward from here. All I care about is your safety and how we’re gonna clean this up.”

Peter nods and eventually finds his voice, “Y-yes, Jackie. I understand,” his voice is hoarse and cracks slightly. “I-I’m really sorry.” The boy tried to stop his lip from quivering. “I—I um. I-I’m just really sorry. I-I just wanted to prove myself to you and make you believe I could handle it because it was my mess—and you’ve been dealing with Wanda, the Ronin, and everything I just—.”

She cuts him off by holding up a hand, making him go silent. “Stop. When you start making it your priority to prove to others your capability and not because you believe in yourself then that’s when things get reckless—that is when things get dangerous.” She tilts his chin up with her fingers when he looks down like a mother would to a child.

“Do you think I went through all the shit I did in the forties because I wanted to prove to other people what I could do? Because I wanted to change the opinion they had of me? Even now since waking up from that damn coma and getting pushed aside because of the male heroes around me? No, Peter. I did it because I believed in myself. I wanted to believe I was capable of achieving what I envisioned myself to be. Not because I wanted the arrogant men around me to see my worth. I knew my worth, and if they didn’t see it then that was on them.”

Her voice takes a more softer tone, leaning down a bit so they were eye level. “You need to start believing in yourself and stop feeling like you have to prove to me, or Tony, or any other Avenger that you belong here. I wouldn’t have taken you under my wing if I didn’t believe you did, Peter. I trust you, but you’re still young and that’s why I trusted you to call me if things went sideways because the last thing you need is to lose people close to you and look what happened.”

A noise sounded from Peters throat and he didn’t even realize he was crying until Jackie lifted her hand to wipe away the fallen tears, her own eyes becoming glossy. “Now listen to me, being a hero comes at a cost. And I’m sorry I have been harsh on you, but I want you to understand that I see you like a son, Peter.” His lip quivers and she places a comforting hand on his cheek. “I have grown to love and care for you, like you’re my own. So it hurts me to see you like this. Bloodied and bruised—suffering and in pain. I hate you had to witness first hand the cost that being a hero comes with. Why do you think Tony and I were so harsh on you about Toomes, and why we did everything we could to reverse the snap? This life is hard and full of costs—and we care for you too much to see you have to carry that burden. You wanted to be like us, but we wanted you to be better.”

By now most people in the room were wet-eyed—especially the two other Peters who knew all too well what being a hero could cost. Jackie wipes more fallen tears from Peters cheeks. “So now—because what’s done is done—we’re not gonna let this define you. Okay? We’re gonna take it slow, make sure May gets the proper service she deserves,” she pauses when he lets out another sob. “And we’re gonna make sure these two,” she gestures to the other Peters, “get home safe. From there its baby steps, okay?” Peter nods and Jackie brings him to her. “Now c’mere.”

Peter didn’t hesitate wrapping his arms around Jackie. His head went to her shoulder while her head gently laid on his given the small height difference and Peter bathed in the comfort she was giving him. The emotion that had built finally let out and Peter felt her arms tighten around him. He cried and cried for what felt like hours, feeling like a kid in need of its mother. In need of family.

Her hand came to gently run through his hair and after several moments Peter pulled away. “T-thank you, Jackie. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” She sighs, full of exhaustion. “I’m so so happy you’re okay.” She finally gives a smile and Peter returns with a small one.

“I am—,” his voice cracks again. “I am really sorry.”

“I know,” she nods, patting his shoulder and rubbing it affectionally. “We’ll get through this.” The air was slowly dissolving of its tension now that the scolding had concluding. Though everyone was still a little taken aback by what had played out. Jackie straightened her posture, adjusting her dress shirt collar. “So what’s the update with Strange? He didn’t tell me much just that we’ve got some VIP visitors for the next couple days,” she turns to the Peters, walking over the few paces to extend her hand. “Jacqueline Stark, but you may call me Jackie.”

Peter 3 was who she approached first, and honestly the man couldn’t find his voice. Both by his sudden fanboy after learning about her on the plane and for witnessing first hand what can happen if you get on her bad side. “Da-uh hi,” he stutters, taking her hand in his. “I’m Peter—like him, Peter Parker. Nice to meet you, I’m—I’m a big fan.” He lets go of her hand with a smile, “You’re really cool—amazing I should actually say.”

Jackies eyes sparkle with amusement, lips curling up slightly. “You boys already caught up on all there is in this world?” She steps to the left to shake Peter 2s hand. “Didn’t think you’d be able to get through all the hell this planet has gone through in such little time.”

Peter 2 shakes her hand. “We had a little history lesson on the plane—from Karen.” He watchers her mutter an ‘ah.’ “It’s nice to meet you Jackie. I’m also Peter Parker.” He laughs at how ridiculous it had sounded, noticing how Jackie had chuckled a bit. “And I agree with Peter, you’re a pretty amazing person from what we’ve heard—truly inspiring.”

“Thank you,” she nods with gratitude. “It’s been a hell of life—overextended as I mentioned earlier. But this world just seems to always be full of surprises. You boys are just one of many in the long list as you probably heard of.” They both nod, muttering ‘that’s the truth.’

“I’m not gonna lie,” Peter 3 started. “When he first mentioned the Avengers I truly thought you were some band—I thought it was so cool there was a version of me in a band.”

Jackie couldn’t stop the laugh escaping, “Oh how I wish that was the type of band we were. We are a band of some sort, but unfortunately not that type. Although we do have drama and fight a lot where people seem to come and go.” Jackie steps away to tap something on table making a blue hologram screen pop up. “Strange told me he’s working on how to get you two home, but it’s gonna take some time. For the time being we can get you set up here on our east wing—its where our apartments are for Avengers when they are inactive and need a place to stay or just want to hang out for the time being. How does that sound for you two?”

The two look at each other before nodding. “That’s great.” “Yeah-yeah that works cool.”

Jackie nods, tapping away some buttons. “You’ll have access to all the there is in the east wing. There’s a pool and gym on the bottom level. All apartments are equipped with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, living room, and laundry area. If you need anything F.R.I.D.A.Y or H.O.W.I.E can help you, all you gotta do is call for them.

“And you,” Jackie suddenly looks to Peter 1. “I’m also gonna get you set up. You don’t have a place at the moment and I wanna keep an eye on you while you’re on time out—no debate,” she cuts him off when he tries to protest. “Baby steps remember? We got things to do before I let you get back into action. Happy you want me to get you a room?”

“If you don’t mind,” he waves from his place on the couch. “I’ll probably need at least a few weeks until I can find a new place.” Peter (1) couldn’t help but cringe, knowing it was his fault Happy lost his home.

“Sounds good,” Jackie hums before looking up at the two teenagers she had forgot were in the room. Her brow rises, “And what about you two? Are you staying at least for tonight or are your families expecting you to be back?”

Ned and Mj freeze, looking at each other and Peter (1). “Uhh,” Mj says. “I can call and ask? They don’t really know we’re here. Happy didn’t tell us on the plane.” Jackie drops her head, mumbling incoherent words.

“H.O.W.I.E.?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Have reception know they need to get four rooms available in the east wing—make sure one is close to my residence, and please send word to Mr. Leeds and Miss. Watsons families they will be staying with us tonight to sort out some Avengers level business.” Ned, Mj, and Peter (1) all look at each other with jaws dropped.

“Right away, ma’am.” H.O.W.I.E replies and Jackie finishes up whatever she was typing on the keypad before looking up at the group. “Ned and our Peter will be sharing a room,” Jackie then looks to the other two peters. “You two will share a room. And Mj and Happy will each have their own. I set it to where you boys will be close together cause each floor has two apartments and then Mj you’ll be staying closer to I am.” Jackie steps away, pulling a pair of yellowish gold pair of glasses similar to what Tony always wore from her suit pocket.

She puts the glasses on, gesturing for them to follow her and they all head toward the door. “Where are we going?” Peter (3) asks curiously, glancing one last time at the display cases of her wings.

“Gonna give you all a tour,” she tells them, looking back with a smirk. “Might as well make you all feel at home—for the time being at least.” Jackie taps the side of her glasses and the golden door automatically opens causing the group —minus Happy —to go ‘woah.’

“You have a lot to learn—some people to meet. We don’t have much time so let me be the first to welcome you to Avengers Campus.”

107 notes · View notes

bottoms-movie · 3 years

Text

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS PT. 2

The first part did really really so I decided to make a second part of sambucky fic recs. Just as the last one: the fics are split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. CHECK OUT PART ONE HERE All fics are completed and all are on AO3.

BASED ON TFATWS

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs | Mature | 6,742 words

5 times Bucky wears Sam's things +1 time Sam wears something of Bucky's

anything you can do, i’ll do you better | Explicit | 5,526 words

Steve is going to kill them if they don't learn to get along, but did they have to take it so far?

making amends | Explicit | 8,645 words

“Not Cap yet,” Sam said. He looked a little ruefully at his hands, which were covered in nicks and cuts. He could already feel his palms bruising from that last shield catch, but at least nothing was broken this time.

“I respect that,” Bucky said slowly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Bucky flexed and unflexed the vibranium fingers of his left hand, a nervous habit that Sam had clocked ages ago. “And you’re right.”

“Thanks, I know.” Sam waited a beat. “About what?”

Barnes sighs, and it’s a deep, soul-weary thing. “Maybe no one ever told you this, but I’m telling you right now. You don’t have any obligation to care about me because Steve did. You don’t have to pretend.”

Sam blinks, taken aback. He has to think, really think, about what he says next, because it’s - it’s either going to build or break something.

You’re My World | Explicit | 6,585 words

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Call Me By Your (Pet) Name | Teen | 6,928 words

“You got a list of the nicknames available to us lesser mortals?” Sam continued, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him. “The ‘you’re not Steve Rogers, so don’t even think about it’ collection?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a list,” Bucky replied, pausing long enough to draw a pointed look from Sam. “Bucky,” he finished, gesturing broadly with his arm to convey the obviousness of the answer.

5 times Sam and Bucky used pet names as a joke + 1 time they used them in earnest

That’s not very gunkle of you | 2 parts | 4,325 words part 1: Bestie Vibes Only | Teen | 1,822 words

“What’s buzzin’ cousin?” Says Bucky, sitting down next to Sam on the docks.

That’s the moment that Sam realizes he needs to change tactics, no more subtly looking up definitions for his weird old person slang, it’s time to fight fire with fire.

“Not much bro, this view is highkey just hitting different TBH” he says, casually looking out at the water.

There’s a beat of silence and then,

“That’s swell doll, I just ate some four-o cackle jelly with side arms, and I’m looking for some kicks, you dig?

Oh, this means war.

misunderstandings | Not Rated | 3,167 words

Sam thinks Sarah and Bucky had a date, and he's Not Okay

you walked into my life to offer me a better view | Teen | 2,534 words

He was standing twenty feet away at the edge of the docks, chatting with Sarah, and Sam couldn't take his eyes away. Bucky's smile was warm, wide, and when he tipped his head back and laughed, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners, Sam could feel it vibrate straight to his heart.

falling, falling, flying | Teen | 2,778 words

Bucky had kissed him.

And Sam had pulled away, because that beautiful golden sunset made Bucky’s hair gleam with the faintest touch of blond, that rare summer breeze hissed like a dying missile past Sam’s ears, the kiss was so familiar, too familiar, and Sam was falling, falling—

(“Let yourself be happy, Sam. Please.”)

lonely boy, you are my world (and i could be anything you need) | Teen | 5,747 words

It all starts with Sam, a shelter, and this sweet kitten that reminded him far too much of a certain century-old, grouchy super soldier.

too dangerous to fall | Explicit | 3,466 words

Bucky Barnes is a one-armed menace. He has murder eyes and no care for basic safety protocols. His jokes are terrible and his bad moods are worse. He’s a godawful roommate who leaves his wet towels on the floor and his combat knives in the linen cabinet. Sam can’t stand the sight of him.

What happens in Louisiana | General | 3,478 words

But just then, in the engine room of the Wilson family boat, away from prying eyes, it felt like something they both needed. The closeness. The warmth.

Steve would laugh at them. Two grown men not being able to get it together. He would roll his eyes at Buck, nudge him with his elbow and tell him “you’re sweet on Sam Wilson so make a move already, punk.”

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | Explicit | 4,412 words

“Jamie asked me out on a date,” Sam says. Bucky swallows. “Took him long enough,” he says, keeping his tone light. He bumps their shoulders together for good measure. “You should go for it.” “You really think so?” Sam asks, looking at him. “Yeah, man,” Bucky says. He fixes his gaze on Torres, high up in the sky, sunlight glinting off his wings. It hurts Bucky’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly. “You should be with somebody who can make you happy.”

(In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.)

Hey Samuel | Teen | 3,223 words

"Bucky."

"Yeah?" He looked up eyes wide. Did he say something out loud?

"We're walking the wrong way."

"Oh." Right. Um. "Let's get ice cream."

"I don't know about you, man, but if I eat ice cream in this weather I will get sick."

Bucky was at a loss for words. What now?

OR Ride along Bucky's journey of figuring out when exactly did he fall for Sam Wilson.

Anyday, everyday | General | 6,735 words

He moved his head and locked eyes with Sam. "D'you- can you.. help me cut my hair?" He asked. He forced himself to look away, feeling embarrassed for asking him to come all this way just to give him a haircut.

His stomach dropped when he felt Sam let go of his hand to stand up. Of course he was about to leave. Who wouldn't want to leave Bucky?

"C'mon, Buck. Let me cut your hair." Bucky's eyes snapped up to Sam's. He had a small smile on his face and his hand was reaching out, waiting for Bucky to take it.

Or; the five times Bucky fell more and more in love with Sam, and the one time he finally got the guts to tell him.

If You’ll Have Me | Teen | 4,779 words

Sam casually shrugged, although there was an intent look in his eyes, "Yeah, well it's getting late and I didn't feel like flying anymore so I was wondering if your old man self is okay with-"

"You can stay here." Bucky quickly finished for him.

I like Bucky, Sam I am | Not Rated | 2,653 words

"I would kiss you on the boat. Or in Wakanda by your goats."

Static in the Dark | Teen | 4,989 words

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

CANON DIVERGENCE

A Different Kind of Problem | Explicit | 7,616 words

“Do you know what it feels like to be insatiable?”

Two months ago, an interrogation gone wrong left Sam with Bucky’s explicit words seared into his brain and body.

Now, Bucky is living in the Avengers Compound, making pancakes and wearing Steve’s huge sweatshirts, fluffy haired and a little shy, seemingly completely content to be on house arrest — and Sam has never been more confused. Whatever Steve thinks, Sam doesn’t have a problem with Bucky. This domesticity is just so at odds with the feral sexuality Bucky had used to rattle Sam during his interrogation. Where did that side of Bucky go? And why can’t Sam stop thinking about finding it? Maybe Sam does have a problem with Bucky… it’s just not the problem Steve thinks it is.

Bucky’s Choice | Not Rated | 4,753 words

When Bucky enters Westview to try to help Wanda Maximoff, he is confronted with something he never expected- Steve Rogers, back from the dead and ready to start a life with Bucky in Westview. It's everything that Bucky ever wanted, everything that Steve abandoned when he went back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter. But Bucky and Sam have been involved for months, and Sam is waiting for Bucky outside of the Hex. Bucky has to make a choice- the life he always wanted with Steve, or a new start with Sam?

tonight i’ll need you to stay | General | 2,227 words

For once, Bucky wants to stop leaving when things are finally looking up. And he wants people to stay with him, too.

(or, 3 times bucky needed an excuse to stay with sam, and the one time he didn't)

How to Win a Supersoldier in Ten Days | Explicit | 14,901 words

When they realize that all the Winter Soldier's interactions with Sam are just him trying to Awkward MurderBot Flirt (TM) with the sexy man, Steve, Tony, and Nat convince Sam to play the honeypot and bring Bucky in.

Sam's pretty sure the honeypot isn't supposed to fall in love with the target, but what can you do?

at the end of the war (what’s mine is yours) | Mature | 4,290 words

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

warm blood (feels good, i can’t control it anymore) | Explicit | 4,492 words

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Caught With Their Pants Down | Explicit | 3,539 words

“Sam, this guy is not coming, the intel was false,” Bucky replied. “I get this whole ticking boxes and what not, but Rogers got it wrong, and for the love of God I need a fucking toilet.”

“You need to learn to plan your water intake better, is what you need. You’re a damn fool and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” Bucky replied, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

“In your damn dreams, Barnes.”

They’d been fucking for about six months, but Sam didn’t want Bucky to go getting a big head about it.

sharp teeth, soft heart | 3 parts | 17,866 words part 1: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) | Explicit | 12,444 words

It’s inevitable, the way it goes. He’s my friend, Steve says, and he is, he is, he must be. Sam’s best friend is Steve, and Steve’s best friend is a werewolf, that’s just how Sam’s life works now.

But once he realizes he’s attracted to Bucky and Bucky can tell, everything becomes, like, a thousand percent more difficult to negotiate. Sam’s just trying to live his life, that’s all, and he keeps getting confronted by Bucky Barnes in a soft flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair all soft and shiny. Bucky glances over at him and smirks, and this is really very embarrassing, how Sam can’t hide his attraction even if he keeps a totally straight face.

I’m so into you I can barely breathe | Explicit | 6,515 words

Sam Wilson had a long day dealing with morons, so he decided to finally go to the famous club in town. There he meets someone who just might get him back in a good mood. And then some.

twelve ounce steak (boxers in briefs) | Explicit | 3,753 words

Sam has pretty lips. Bucky seems to think so, too.

caught it bad (i’ll be on the way) | Mature | 4,830 words

Sam constantly gets roped into doing dumb things with Steve, but this time, it works out perfectly for him.

meet me in the a.m. | Teen | 3,147 words

Steve accidently starts a fire and Bucky's tired. When unbelievably hot firefighter Sam saves the day, though, he can't really be that mad.

i wanna savour, save it for later | Not Rated | 6,419 words

"It's his damn ratings, man," Sam says. "It's weird 'cause when you read the reviews, he seems to like our food and all. Nothing but praise for days. And then you get to the rating, and it's always the same. Three goddamn stars."

Bucky tips his beer bottle from side to side, lips pursing slightly. "I see. And that's… a bad thing?"

"We are not a three-star joint," Sam says flatly.

Or, the one where food truck owner Sam gets caught up in his quest to unmask an anonymous food blogger. Falling for one of his regulars was never on the menu.

we were a fire with no smoke | Explicit | 15,295 words

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows | Teen | 9,042 words

When Sam Wilson inherits the manor of the old man he once took care of, it feels like his luck is finally looking up. It's an opportunity for a fresh start, something he's in desperate need of. When he arrives, however, it becomes clear that an easy transition into estate living is not exactly a possibility. The house is run-down, nothing like Sam remembers it, and the groundskeeper — who Sam apparently has to share the house with, wants nothing to do with him.

You Smiled Because You Knew | Teen | 3,754 words

"You've got the wrong address," the man who'd answered growled. He had long, scraggly hair that had mostly escaped his attempts to pull it away from his face. He had nice eyes, and wouldn't have been unattractive, especially with a shave, except for the scowl. "Nobody here wants or needs your . . . services."

It was apparent by the tone the man did not appreciate Sam's hard work.

Well, that was tough shit.

#marvel #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #tfatws #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fic rec #fic recs #usermarcy #usersof #usersmile #usersamanne #sambucky fanfic #tusersammy #tusernini #my fic recs

448 notes · View notes

kthynes · 2 years

Text

THE MIXOLOGIST 🍸 (3/7)

part three: french 75

previous part

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: bartender!steve rogers x fem!reader

summary: after a rough break up you find yourself frequenting the same bar every night where you’re tended to by Steve who helps you through your heartbreak.

word count: ~8.2K

warnings: 18+ nsfw. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — This part contains: some course language, safe alcohol consumption, fun banter. Yearning and pining. Mentions of war, the military. Historical references. Actual quotes as said by SR.

Passages italicized in bold = flashbacks/past conversations

author's note: Even though I did some research there’ll definitely be some inaccuracies when it comes to following the MCU timeline — again this is meant to be a modern AU and the plot comes from my own creative integrity so take much of it with a grain of salt.

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Cheers!

taglist: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @mrs-djokovic @bookwormchick91 @lauracontisstuff @blossombela @maroonsunrise83 @jesgisborne @ysmmsy @jennmurawski13

This series has not been beta’d so any mistakes are my own.

six months later

Steve roguishly thought of his past, running with time and the people that mattered to him the most. He was Captain America, after all. Heavy emphasis on was.

Now, he’s meant to be incognito, a nomad looking over his shoulder well after hanging up his vibranium shield. The posterioring stealth suit was kept dormant, ruminating dust in an acclimatized lab— so he’s told. But with every incremental opportunity there’s a dutiful ache in his pneuma that begs to feel the tough, rubberized leather against the chapels of his skin. He’d confer that whenever he went to bed, devoid.

Who he was and who he’d come into prosed a greater leitmotif.

If you go, you’re gone Rogers. He remembers. The stern soliloquy that infantilizes his entire existence. It’s a prophetic cri de cœur, one that Steve’s heard on many rotations, especially from Fury who would never impede his intercessions twice.

“Mrs. Erskine.” One of the attendants greets a known elitist. Steve frowns while intently going over inventory in his head, pen barely touching paper at this point. The house lights are dim and he squints at the tally, taking work as a warranted distraction.

Tito’s. Replaced. Vodka and Tequila.

Jameson. Double check.

Jarred olives and Bacardi. Check.

“I’d like to be out of sight if possible.” Marlene Erskine isn’t so thrilled. She’s looking at everyone else except the man in front of her who offers to take her mage-like coat.

“May I?” Steve hears the courteous plea, a cry for attention that stakes his subordinate at low par. He shakes his head while shifting through a cold deck of recipe cards and paperwork.

“Oh alright then, fine… Thank you.” The weight of the shrug finally comes off. She fashions a sensible tan pullover and a straight narrow knee length skirt. The long, ribboning scarf stays on for modesty as she scopes the party that honors women in STEM and business. Her beady eyes adjust, finally landing on Steve who narrowly avoids her agog gaze. “Everyone must be here.” She hums to herself.

“Ma’am?”

“Go on.” She cautions to be led. “I’ll follow.”

“Right this way.”

While heralding himself as a "man without a nation", Steve finally found normalcy, sought for it at an upscale bar in New York’s most safest, not to mention richest, Harlem’s. The covetous tavern was tucked away from his childhood domicile where much of the surrounding metropolis was absolutely aberrant; a metamorphic ghost town with strife and fast feet.

Without much consideration, he settled in a Manhattan village where the periodic scaling of the once lively, tooting 40’s architecture was now weathered down to brick lacquered buildings, remodeled businesses and an imperialist mirage of a present day borough.

Although with further retrospection, some historic memorandums were safe kept —like the tassel awnings by each shopfront, the dismal rat infested alleyways and the musty arrangement of smells that would stew up from either a poorly maintained manhole or an unbathed homeless man. It was all ornately there to reckon.

Cherry Lane theatre. Hotel Albert. 10th street studios were all slightly unfamiliar to him. But the infamous meatpacking factory stood bouldering and tall along with the neatly pigeonholed row houses that were inhabited by avant-garde residents who’d pardon their way as Steve passed them with indifference every morning and night.

As hard as it was to admit, his fondest memories of the city wore on thin and averse just as his encompassing juncture.

There’ll be a whole lifetime that articulates a fine divide between good and the myopia of chaos that ensues. You’ll have to look around to see.

“What’s going on?” Wes appears next to Steve who was stuck to his shins the whole time.

“Just trying to get my hands around these bottles.” Steve motions to the gallons of Lost Abbey ale that weren’t stocked on cart, nor were they requested in the first place. Until now that is. “I shouldn’t have to accommodate this.”

“They’re asking?”

“You bet they are.” Each brass bond bottle was pulled up and lined against the backsplash where Steve stood wistfully repentant, contemplating whether a little bleakness would save him from dumping premium alcohol down the drain. But shit happens and people of this century were colorful brutes who drank their weight, never took no or sorry for an answer.

“Here lemme get them out of the way for you.” Wes insists while upholding a barrage of decorum to set aside.

“Who in their right mind petitions for high commodity beer?” Steve runs a hand down his tired face. Clinks and clatters, the cart sinks in agony with each drop. “Actually, I haven’t checked the expiry date on those. Hold up.”

Wes takes a step back as Steve scans the bottle necks for the all clear. “Do you think there’s going to be a back order?”

“Oh one hundred percent. These are the last of what we got and they’re… good to go.”

“Nice. Maybe we can swig some shots later.” Wes continues, loading the last of the beer with a grunt that lingers. His humor is impartially bearing.

“Please do. I mean I don’t know what goes but I appreciate you guys a whole lot, day in, day out.” Steve claps his colleagues on the back as a congressional ‘thank you.’ “So go ape.”

“If you say so chief.” He strolls away, using his hip to nudge the stubborn trolley forward.

Going through the clipboard checklist, Steve crosses out his inventory, checks it twice, rounds to the nearest tee and then looks up. His reflection from the giant mantle ahead drew up a different demise. In between rows upon rows of alcohol he sheens his rugged, dreary appearance through the glimmering gold plane mirrors. This couldn’t be him at his expectant best.

You are presumed to be made up, Steve Rogers. Almost god-like to some. After all, the world's first superhero doesn’t come by easily.

“I think you’re absolutely wrong.” You giggle from a far distance, phone hotly pressed against your ear while completely engrossed. The snow swirls behind you as your booted feet stomp on the duster mat out front. You awkwardly marshal past coat check, smiling at Kenny as you girl boss your way across the loft.

“Maybe Maya can have a look at the projections and then we can talk. How ‘bout that?”

Your jaded assistant agrees on the other end as the client file gets passed mid-conversation. “Whatever. There’s no way of convincing you.”

“Not even the slightest.” You add, ending the call to stare at the blue light screen and punch in a few choice words. The phone rings again, you pick up - this time aroused by another inanity.

“You’re kidding!” Your excitement borders sheer exasperation. One of your hallmark clients, a couple at that, decided to have an open house style proposal. Georgina Scott and Andrew Morales were firm partners and astound lovers. They were on the market to buy a home until they pulled this stunt.

“The whole nine yards and a paid audience. I guess I forgot to mention it.” Juni monotonously reiterates, sucking her teeth and obviously overjoyed.

“How?”

“They’re crafty like that, Y/N. Did you not read their InTouch exposé?” She rhetorically coos as you stare at an off handed pap shot photo, trying to piece together how this all came down in a narrow two storey walk up. You'd assume that Georgina probably shed a fake tear or two whereas Andrew was inadvertently relieved from any financial stipulation. They were terrible like that, working the other like a fiddle and playing you by the ear. “She’s my wifey for lifey. He says. He’s my sweet money man. She says. Fucking head cases.”

“I have no words.”

“Lucky for you, this is their home. A two bed plus den townhome on 22nd, I believe.”

“That’s not….” You’re at a loss, slowly approaching the vacant roundabout where Steve resolutely sluices beer steins. His eyes cut to you and in your splay of thoughts you grimace. He’d do anything in his power to see for it, halting to wipe his hand on a small tea towel. “Oh my god, wait. No…” You groan, a hand plastered to your forehead.

Steve’s not crazy about a lot of things but he’d surely hang the moon when you were around. Matt would tell him not to, warning the rueful Captain that his kindness could turn on him. But the light you were made it nearly impossible. He’s taken to you by the frightful upheaps that akin night and day.

“The deposits in, Y/N. What’s the big deal? It’s not like you have offers stacking up and besides these two are absolute cash cows.”

“Juni.” You chide, tiredly rubbing your face as Steve wordlessly pours a mug of hot water for your cold hands to grasp. He’s mindful like that— to the point where your eyes narrow and twinkle. If he wanted to he would.

“Sure there are factoring alternatives but with them, we can both finally eat.” She quips, matter of fact.

“You know we’re in the midst of a crazy bidding war, right? Thanks Steve.” You gently tell him once you wrap your palms around the steaming mug. Your frigid hands embrace the soldering heat, eyes briefly falling shut. “Let’s be pragmatic here.”

“Forget that! Are you with sexy big dick Steve?” If your face was ever hit with a hot cast iron pan, the sensation would be similar to the warm numbness you felt from the peak of your hairline down to the back of your neck. Steve smirks while hearing it all, flattered and contentious by this interaction. He lets you come undone, not truly inciting if you ever took to the name. He liked it just as much as he liked you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You mutter a threat.

“Hey Steve!” Juni loudly swoons on the line. Steve stops to say something, mouth agape for you to fill in the blanks.

“Don’t.” You instantly signal him, sweating like a spit roasted pig. “He says hi. Can I…” you pause to clear your throat. “Can I call you back later?”

Your heart batters down to a normal BPM. Steve smiles to himself knowing the impact was more human in nature than anything else.

“Do you still want the reports?” She finally jesters.

“Yes Juni, spare me will you.”

Like the summer solstice, Steve knows of Juniper ‘Juni’ Williams, your longtime assistant and quirky best friend. He also knows of Maya Cortez, the other ‘more-serious-to-charm’ associate who works alongside you at the agency. And then there’s Matt your small town bestie who you'd belittle like a brother, looking out for the other when the going got tough. Your circle was just them, small and let in by a few.

“Ok you need to— Oh I know… Alright, fine! Whatever, yes, ok, ok, bye!” You laugh through sprightful exhaustion, ending the call for good. “Can’t believe her.”

Steve found your sense of self to be superlative. He would indirectly make note, observe these versions of you that are elemental and obsolete yet make you, you. But under the perils of his forlorn pretense and the misfortune white knight complex, you didn’t have the slightest clue about him, who he was, is and can be. To you, Steve was just a sterling mixologist and not to mention a good friend.

Friend. Now there’s an impending notice.

Infrequently after Steve’s inquisition, you showed up almost every night with newfound ease and wonderment while deprecating his falsified commodore at face value.

He did good by you, for you, unrequited, over and over again. And that was it.

For many months on in, Steve was at the bar awaiting in spirit, unserious by his dues but so very grateful of you.

“You don’t look so good.” You unveil yourself under the glimmering fairy lights strung above, perfectly in season. Steve scoffs at the utterance. He’s pitiful while on the side there’s a long clutter of tools, big and small, laid along the bar strip to dry. The dishwasher was out of order, huffing and puffing like the dapperly super soldier himself.

“I was just told to serve four cases of high premium beer at a strictly wine and champagne event.” He unloads, snapping you a blazoned look and your head jerks back.

“Is that it?” You question, slowly slipping out of your prickly, cold cocoon coat and setting it aside.

“As much as I hate to say it, I’m not running a charity bar here.”

“That’s very meta, don’t you think?” He rolls his eyes, moving through the stretch like a chamois and passing stationery to his crew who’d give you a less than obligatory smile.

“Don’t get smaht (smart) with me.” He conjugates the New York and Boston accent with a half smirk that rests on his bearded upper lip. “Alright?”

Your hands are rifling through your purse lining for a thoughtful afterthought. “Well I’ve got $50 to my name. What does that cover?”

“My left shoe.” He rebuts, eyes sparkling a new haven and crisis. Day old receipts, crumpled Nature Valley wrappers, even one of your emptied birth control blister packs comes flying out for show. Steve grows weary, biting his bottom lip to hide a coy, ceaseless grin while you rip apart your small flap wallet.

“Then fifty it is.” You slot a fresh bill into the idling tip jar that is looted from last night's service.

You’re beaming. Not for too long. Steve shuffles forward and comes up right in your face. He slides his hands into fists and rests them on either side of you, flexing a river of veins that form right along his thick forearms. This is different. Strange and impermeable to decipher as wafting spearmint and the dankest whisky imaginable soon tingles your senses. He rambunctiously exhales, tucking in his chin to scorn a better look.

He’s truly fucking with you at this point and you let him, remaining innocently unbalanced in the stare off.

“How pretentious do you have to be to know your place?” He mutters as you innocently peer at him through your thick lashes.

“I… I don’t know, you tell me.” You try not to stutter. Steve studies your countenance, his eyes landing on your pillow pink lips that jut out for dreary sake. And this is how you got to him.

“Yeah right.” He deftly pulls away to your heart's titillating murmur and contrives a laugh that’s larger than life. Asshole.

“Take back the fifty and lemme do my job, sweetheart.” He reaches the overhead shelf and grabs his own mickey, trying to weigh in on the fun to no avail. “Don’t be weird.”

You mockingly ignore him and lean in with your forearms splayed on top of the counter.

“So what’s on the company menu tonight?”

After taking an abortive shot, he feigns disgust and sibilates. Unfortunately the serum only amplified his sense of taste.

“Aside from Bruichladdich, that is... You’re insane.” You comment as if you were witnessing a bloody slaughter.

“No fucking shit,” Steve growls on the low while coming to his own.

He catches that look in your eye. It's unmistakable how taken aback he is and the way you assume your own natural beauty. Soon enough you get distracted, easily so. He shakes his head, smacking his lips while turning to stiffly open another bottle of prosecco for a weak handed waitress who thanks him in return.

“Make sure you secure it tightly afterwards.”

“Got it.”

“Hey hey.” You sing-song like a true house guest, this time at Ian— the flamboyant server who loves you next to kin it seems.

“Hey ho.” He gets by with a tray plated with croquettes, deviled eggs, poached meats, cheeses, breads, pickled root vegetables and even spanakopita. It’s a worldly delicatessen of bites meant for a richer consortium, that is until your friend pipes in, “Would you like to try?”

“Oh no no. Guests first.”

“Suit yourself.” Ian gaggles with an extended eye roll. He tags along with another waiter who shifts some of the appetizers onto his own tray to distribute. You suck in a deep breath, feeling a little out of place and adjusting to the bubbly atmosphere.

“This is a nice set-up.” You remark at the sight of the trapezing tapestry coming down from the ceilings. There’s a few new installments and a Christmas tree that’s been spruced, nearly mammoth in size. The visionary directive was different, quaint and pretty to look at.

“Primark.” Steve relays the event coordinators on spiel. You sound a disgruntled ‘ahh’ that acknowledges him.

“Very nice.”

“You know there’s a truckload of bites going around, the offsite catering company has made sure of it. So don’t be shy.” Steve affirms, pulling sprigs of mint leaves to garnish the pre-poured juleps that were left out and swiped by fascinated guests alike.

“Cheers.” He occasionally salutes with an empyrean grin.

“I’m not really keen on finger foods.” You watch the two women giggle and sway, speaking in hushed tones about the cute bartender that you couldn’t digress, a fact is a fact after all. Don’t go there Y/N. “Maybe later if I work up an appetite.”

“So you’re basically on a ‘liquid diet’ then?” He points to the alcohol out on display.

“It’s like you know me.” You sardonically respond, still grasping onto your warm water glass.

“Barely.” He counters.

Steve got to know you little by little. He knew your profession, place of birth. How you were practically a novice wanderer in the apple state yet over time you've accumulated your favorite city haunts, bodegas and boutiques. He knew you by memory, down to the color of your toenails which was an even milder revelation. Ballet pink to be exact.

And if we were to compare apples to oranges, he’s never met anyone like you, humanly unique and a tough stride to meet, a challenge at best.

“Liar.” You sheepishly implore, feeling a sinful chill reach your shoulders.

Steve drops a straggly piece of twine and holds a hand out, brows questionably arched. “Give me that.”

“What? No, why?” He swipes the ruddy mug from your grasp and dumps it into the sink.

“I’ll get you a heat pack instead.” Before you could protest, he disappeared into the back room where his office presided along with the first aid kit.

“You don’t have to do all this.” You shyly state as he returns and hands you the freshly microwaved gel compress for aches and sores— and now for your cold, reptilian hands.

“Careful, it’s hot.” He sympathizes, nodding at the untouched sack in front of you. “Just wait it out before you rest your hands.”

“Thanks.” You reluctantly express your gratitude, taking in the furrowed look on his stoic face that remains a constant. “I guess poor circulation is no laughing joke.”

“It’s not.” He studies the till screen as a respite distraction, rubbing his bearded jaw while going through orders and transactions, completely emboldened by you. A low purl passes through as he smiles with affliction, “I mean I’d hold your hands but mine are a little tied up at the moment.”

With the grueling turn of winter and his super soldier ability to radiate heat like no other, Steve has held your hands before, gently twiddling with your fingers that were cold to the bone. He enjoyed providing this kind of solace and you appreciated the gesture, letting your imprudent heart skip a beat.

But from one friend to another, you kindly passed up on the offer— ultimately recoiling from his touch, for now.

“No need, I’ll sit on them if I have to.” You assure him and the silence is brief.

“Speaking of, tonight’s special is an old time classic.” Steve gruffly mentions right under while one hand reaches for a clean steel chalice and the strainer top.

You’re quick to fasten him a high brow look; thinking back to the outlandish time he made you shoot down whiskey and pickle brine, inconspicuously. He sparked your flavor palette while you feigned your malignant annoyance for him from then on in.

“You’ll like this one.” He finally promises with a gentle timbre that rumbles deep from his diaphragm. Fuck that. “I’m sure of it.”

“No you aren’t!” You playfully squeak. Steve opens his mouth to say something but then clamps it shut. He breaks out the widest Grinch-like smile as a test and you simply hover over to deride him, tongue out like a snotty school child. That mouth of yours…

“Hey boss, do you think we can get a hold of some vodka?” Matt appears from the opposite end of the bar, carrying a tin bucket and a frayed dish rag. He’s putting on the ‘I’m-busy-and-working’ act and you’re somewhat convinced, sinking back in your seat as Steve turns away to rig a couple waters for patrons that swoop in to ask. He harnesses his boyish thoughts and cranes his neck back to gauge his partner's requital.

“If there’s any…” Matt blows out under great duress while looking fit to the tee.

All the servers and backend staff parallel the same black tie regalia except for Steve who ostentatiously displays the sex appeal of a certain double ‘o’ seven agent. Languorous to the eye, his look consisted of a crisp white button down with the top buttons popped off and a quilted black vest. You’d assume he was wearing tapered slacks and wingtips but you couldn’t dare to look.

It’s almost conclusive that Steve was a coquettish man, it’d be unintentional yet forthcoming in disguise. You’d be set ablaze at every given encounter and gaze, not sure where to draw the stipulated line. Wait, is that a dick print or his phone?

“What kind?” Steve asks. You suck in a deep breath that welters out of restlessness, baiting your gaze elsewhere. Stop being a pervy little shit Y/N.

“On the rail is just fine.” Matt gathers next to him, inspecting each bottle of poison as you try to keep to yourself. “We’ve seemingly run out...”

“According to?”

“Antoine, you know how he is, always wanting to try ‘zomething new.’ This time he’s insisting on making a framboise, whatever the hell that is—'' Matt stops and sees you, his brown penchant eyes widening.

So you came up a little underdressed, wearing nothing but a black pullover and some dark washed jeans, a tired face spot free of makeup. That’s not to say you weren’t charming or beautiful or anything ordinary but the exact look you heeded told him otherwise.

“Oh hey you.”

“Matty.” Your smile brightens at the drop of a hat.

“I see you’re back for another night, as expected and out of element.” He hums and trivializes with an impervious grin. He’s used to your perennial visits by now. He doesn’t ask why or questions the merit of your stay. He keeps mum and for that you can almost hear his quibbling thoughts. “You doing alright, m’love?”

“Grand.”

“Polish potato or Russian rye?” Matt contemplates, tapping a finger over his tightly pressed lips.

“Just take the rest of the Belvedere.” Steve instructs as he starts peeling lemon rinds into pretty decorative swirls.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine. There’s about half a pint left?”

“Just about, yeah.” Matt rocks the bottle back and forth, letting the alcohol swoosh in its wake.

“Then have at it.”

“Alright cool, thanks man.” He grips a firm hold of the bottle that’s in his prized possession. “I guess I’ll see you two in a bit.”

“Probably not.” Steve adds, glancing over his shoulder to see Matt already sauntering down the aisle.

“Where’s he stationed?” You ask with a slight frown.

“The cart... Hey, are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” He discernibly asks. Steve does that a lot. He cares, he coddles, he makes you feel like the only woman in the room deserving of his attention. It’s fucking sick. You’re ready to object but he’s quick to assert.

“I hear the crab cakes are divine. I’ve had one too many to count.” He bobs his head at the event coordinator who signals for a few trays and extra tulips.

“I'm good, thanks.”

“Well sue me for wanting my girl to eat.” Steve grumbles to himself, setting aside another arrangement. His girl?

“Your girl?” Your sweet melodic laughter stakes him with clowning grief. “I’m sorry Steve but that seems a little too inclined.” You cock your head to the side, a hand held to your heart, eyes twinkling a mayhem. Steve is biffed by it, by you. “At least coming from you.”

“Maybe so but it’s never just you. Lookit there’s my other girl.” He points to the ever gorgeous Shaylene who waltzes by in a fitted midi dress and stilettos. She grins at Steve who courteously winks back. They share a quick cheek kiss at the pass off and your belly flip flops at the initial sight. They were all like this, overly friendly and bashful to boot. You fell somewhere in between, keynoted as the helpless one.

“Wow.” You drawl. “There’s always gotta be someone else, huh? Heya Shay.”

“Heya bunny boo.” She chirps.

“Ain’t that life… Be right back sweetheart. I have to get this to the other end before someone loses their shit.” Steve holds up a stack of trays, crystal clean tulips, a few cloth wrapped utensils and unlit tea lamps for ambience. You let him have his way around like a true commander in chief.

“Inevitably. Need any help?”

“S’all good, I think I can manage from here.” He slides through the closest half door to you and then leans in to sing his truthful vices. You smile at his yearning charm, eyes nearly rolling as his gravelly words cut through the music above, “Keep them hands nice and warm for me, will ya?”

You were close to thwarting him with the sludgy compress but by a hair's breadth, he escapes the opportunity.

“Oh fuck off.”

🍸

You piece your heart back together to the soft trill of old 1920s jazz and the everlasting classics. The venue was booked out for a private affair as guests walked the threshold in swallowing taffeta gowns and tuxedos. You’d muse throughout the evening milieu, depreciating your past that had zero affiliation with your present. Every once in a while you’d smile at guests, share a few choice words and then be left on your own. In routine you were OK with that. Moments in this realm were meant to be ephemeral anyways.

“Enjoy your night, darling.” The older woman sweetly parts with one free hand ghosting your back while the other nurses a half full glass of champagne that’s gone disappointingly flat.

“You should get another.” You comment.

“That I will.” She cackles, finishing off the rest before doing so. “It was so nice chatting with you though.”

You punt a squinty eyed smile as she sashays away in a beautiful rose colored gown, a designer who you couldn’t recall for the life of you.

In some instances you aspired to be like her. Possibly married, maybe even divorced with compounding settlement money and a giant empty French styled home. A realtors sex dream. You’d think to yourself.

But would you be happy with all that? Proud, even? Temporarily.

“Thank you for coming.” Marlene stands just behind the barrier, greeting her most esteemed guests who flocked past the foyer. Each sharing their own sentiment, she briefly casts a slight glance your way as you twirl your drink around, being unfavorable in your own right. She presses her lips together, possibly coming up with her own conclusions about you. Her fascination becomes pitiful as returns to welcome another couple.

Seasonal transgressions were starting to fill the void with December right around the corner. Time, perceptively, flew by. There’s a strong flurry of snow that blows outside the ceiling to floor windows that face the front entrance, entrapping everyone in a worldly snow globe.

Being here saved you.

But seeing him meant everything unimaginable.

“Al-right let’s get this show on the road.” Steve breathlessly emblems a compliant smile, clapping his hands together while greeting each patron, all older and astute with expertise.

You were still seated in the same spot where he left you, bemused by bespokeness, attention at full mast.

“You good?” He whispers, a tender rasp that comes from genuineness.

You gently nod your head, still grasping onto the warm compression pack from earlier. He putters another smile that churns away your insides, turning to gather his amplitude of ingredients and tools to chasten.

“A French 75,” He infinitely booms to the crowd, retouring a different candor. “Similar to the fast-firing 75 mm field gun but delectably better.”

Steve begins his delving pour, it’s graceful and quick. The people next to you cock their heads slightly, fascinated by the highs and lows that come with his servitude.

“To start we’re gonna work in 1 ounce of gin,” Pour. “½ ounce of freshly squeezed lemon juice, ½ ounce of simple syrup,” Splish splash. “…And 3 ounces of, you guessed it Bert—” The older lonesome gentleman to your right chuckles as Steve pauses to carefully prop open a bottle of champagne.

The cork pops and white sand foam fizzles right down his broad bony knuckles. It’s a clenching sight as the alcohol free flows into the iced shaker without missing a drop. He’s sneaky, swiping his tongue against the flat ridge of his fist, indiscreetly slurping up some of the sweet fizzy nectar that was impartially leftover.

Incriminating piece of shit, you mentally curse as the fleeting sight makes your inner coil twitch.

“And that’s that.”

“Hmm.” You tightly hum a curt appraisal as do the other women who struggle to cling onto their partners. Steve smirks, taking his two Midas hands to jerk the tumbler back and forth. He says something and your mind instantly falls right into the gutter as you mutter a low, “Fucking hell.”

“This drink, a lot friendlier than the name implies, made its first appearance in 1927 at the height of the Prohibition era and was soon after immortalized in the 1930s by a chap named Harry Craddock. Now, it’s served without an exact reason.” He unscrews the top and pours the chilled drink into each flute.

“Thank you.” You mouth as soon as he passes you a glass, the first of many.

“Cheers.” He takes a lightheaded sip with you and everyone else.

“This is lovely.” Steve smiles at the compliment. People begin to disperse, taking their drinks on the go and leaving you two to be. “Certainly has character... like yourself.”

“You think so?”

“I’d somewhat conspire. But then again who is Steve Rogers?” You take another swig, unwavering from his propinquity that turns a new leave.

“You’re asking me?” He disbelieves, dredging a heavy handful of ice into the blender that’s left propped open. Your resolve is to watch him work, admiringly so, it becomes a fettering colloquy.

His smirk says it all and you quirk up. “That I am!”

He smooths a hand over his apron before turning the machine dials up three clicks, murmuring a few incantations and then hoisting the lid down as the contents sit in the clear vault for a bit. You’re still awaiting his answer, he exhales a little too pestiferous.

“Well for starters I’m not running with the mafia.”

The Avengers could be considered one but never in the slightest. Steve's underworld was extraterrestrial at best, a costa nostra of good doers and luminaries. Even Marlene Erskine would vouchsafe for this as she hosts tonight’s jubilee with great matador.

“Although,” He starts up again, the metal strainer comes apart in his hold while he assesses the inside and then does another toss up.

“The Evans's are one of my more reverent customers. I keep the tab open for them to do business and in return there’s hardly any bloodshed.” He forces a boyish smile, making you feel things you shouldn’t feel.

“Good to know.” You stifle a chanced laugh.

“While thankful of my time,” he runs a few metal spoons and spools under the water faucet, distantly boisterous. “I did have the highest honor in serving the military as a colonel.”

Steve fabricates a partial truth into a whole caucus lie. A part of him couldn’t egg on the fact that he was a century old super soldier, by defect. So he chose to relive his pre-serum existence, a life that made the most sense to relent.

“Oh wow.” You caw, mouth going dry like a fish out of water.

Steve refuses to meet your eyes, blending frozen rosé in a sectioned Ninja blender. It’s loud, emulsifying a rich concoction to go with the winter chill. He sighs, hands on hips while taking a greater stance.

“Yeah I did two separate tours before settling down.” He cautiously explains his rotation and the time he fought alongside the original 6—now minus him, of course. But then thoughts of the Howling Commandos came flooding in, silencing him in the very bar that has been reverted since then. He goes to open the ice rack and stings a heady glance, face illuminating a pensive white glow before remembering to grab a bag of frozen berries.

“Now I’m good for nothing.” He slams the cooler shut and you can’t say much there so continue your parade of questions.

“How long have you been in the military?”

“About nine years, on and off.” Another lie.

“I see.” You thoughtfully nod, watching him use his teeth to rip open the plastic bag. You wet your lips, curiosity at peak. “Have things changed ever since you got back?”

70 years later and Steve doesn’t recognize himself anymore. A mirror is a mirage to him. But you weren’t supposed to know that.

“A whole lot.” While multitasking Steve reaches over and slides you another flute to sip on. It’s a stern, redundant plea. He tells you that it’s harmless to celebrate the night even if there’s nothing substantial worth celebrating. You drank to drink, wearily trying not to slur your words like you did the first night you met him. But it’s like they say you meet people for a reason.

Steve Rogers was a walking encyclopedia. He was finally turning the pages in his life and you were simply seeing for it, trying to be a placating olive branch in his ceaseless meadow, one he hasn’t looked to with hope. Until now.

“I had to cut my losses and relearn a life that was completely different from how I last remembered it…” he pours the thick, icy mix into Cosmo funnels and shelves them on a tray with diluted concentration.

“A part of me feels insouciant but I know kids these days would phrase the term to be FOMO. You know, Fear of missing out.” His eyes widen and without failing to miss a beat, you giggle. “The severity of the circumstance is far less scathing but here I am making up for it.”

“At the Grotto? Of all places?”

“Believe it or not sweetheart, this place has a lot of personal history and indignation. Like the time my father who lost one too many bets at that standalone,” Steve gestures to the small wooden circle table where guests left their drinks to idle, “Somehow managed to get my shy mother to dance with him while being a complete chad.”

“And it worked.”

“Sure it did! I mean how else would I be around?” He winks. There's an unassuming waitress, quietly waiting for the tray of froze’s to be passed. She’s trying to do her job and not be torn to shreds by another housewife. There were plenty of hopeful piranhas in disguise, some even in plain sight.

“Here you are my love.” He lifts the tray before walking over to the short stewardess who lowers her stance at the hand off. “You think there might be more to come?”

“I don’t think so.” She huffs and all while unenthused he gives her a knowing look that bellies his constant concern. She shakes her head, attempting to level with him. “It’s fine— I’ll bug Matt, you’re busy anyways.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Steve took it as a playful push and she simply shrugged while moving away from the haughty bartender.

He lightly sighs before coming to a sudden cognizance. His eyes widened, tongue firmly planted against the inside of his cheek, a finger drums the table top as if he were pointing to it —and he was. His embodying surroundings painted a vivid picture that fell back to the year of 1945.

“You know right at this spot...” He loudly enchants, soon remembering Bucky out of all people.

“That spot?” You signal to the opposite end where he stands and smiles as your chin falls into the grooves of your palm, intrigued.

“This bend ri’here...” His excitement is unparalleled. You laugh while he continues to fraternize his telltale manifestos. “Is where my best friend and I had our first round of initiation beers after being enlisted in the army. We ran it back then...”

“I bet you did.”

“Now it’s just me, honoring my time and sharing war stories with veterans twice my age.” Steve towers in front of you and exhales a small laugh, not meeting your blank stares. “I know it’s a bit chary but I see my purpose here Y/N and my life—“

“Your life comes full circle.” You nod. “Is your best friend doing alright?”

“I fucking hope so… He’s been, um, overseas for a while now so we chat when the connection is there otherwise it’s a ‘nice-knowing-ya’ ordeal.” Steve reprimands himself for being so unforgiving. He misses Buck more than anything and being an averse fugitive was no help in the cause.

“God I shouldn’t have said it like that.” He laughs, “I promise you he isn’t dead.”

You smile slightly. “And what about her?”

“What about her?” Steve deadpans, not expecting you to ask about Peggy.

“She who shall not be named…” You tread lightly. “Did you keep her waiting while you were away?”

“No.” He impassively states, there’s some coldness that enables his contempt.

To Steve, Peggy was strategically displaced in his past. When the large-span aircraft came pummeling through the stratosphere he made a paltry promise, one in a few that he’s kept to himself. So if anything, there was hardly ever a wait.

“But you loved her?” You prod. Love. There’s another dysphemism.

“Not quite.” He sighs, Matt catches his peripheral and that’s when the super soldier reveries. “Say, what exactly do you know about me?”

“I know that you’re a good man who chooses to deliberately let go.” You articulate, seeing his façade crumble. “You run because you can’t hide and now that you’re here, you’re stuck. Possibly looking for a sign.”

“If the universe says so.”

“I think we owe it to ourselves to live a lifetime where we don’t have to wonder why or when or how. We just live, be virtuous and free from inhibition. You deserve to show up for yourself first, Steve.”

“And yet here you are.” He murmurs. Your lips quirk up at the corners, forfeiting a soft smile.

“My point is that you can’t do good by everyone even if you’re made to believe otherwise, Cap.”

“You’re not wrong.” He studies your face up close. “But I hate that you’re so fucking right. Now can I please get you something to eat?”

You laugh. “If you insist.”

“It would bring me absolute joy in filling you up.” He provokes a double entendre. You’re stunned silly, cleverly hiding behind a champagne flute that is part way empty. You’re surreptitiously drinking tonight. It becomes a unanimous decision from hereinafter.

🍸

“Thank you for tonight.” You gratify in Steve's warm, engulfing embrace. His head is tucked in between your neck and shoulder while your chin is perched up, reeling in the sanguine closeness. It’s a sweet embalming attempt as faint notes of his lust cantering sandalwood cologne mixes with your white saffron perfume. Chest to chest and the drowning heartbeats that synchronized into one, you cherished this just as much as he did.

“Of course.” Steve flattens a kiss against your temple before pulling away, his broad hands hold onto your elbows at arm's length. “I just hope you had a good time.”

“I did…” You check your purse to make sure everything’s in place, nervously depreciating Steve's adjacency and sucking in a deep breath. He slides a large hand up your back, nudging you in close as people pass by to get out the door. Your phone flashes white in your clutch.

The Scott/Morales report comes toiling in. Juni later shoots you a text and signs it off with an eggplant and tongue emoji. She was onto you. Steve splays a decrepit grin, nodding at an older gentleman who has devoured many of his mixes on the tap. Their conversation flows when you choose to read her jaunty little text.

No harm no foul if you do. Just make sure you don’t neglect the balls.

“Jesus Christ.” You quickly pocket your phone.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” You clear your throat a few short bursts, one hand goes to lay on Steve’s chest, stopping him as he tries to get a good look at you. “Hey look I have a few wagers to sort out in the next couple of days so if I’m not around pulling your tail then you know why.”

“You know I don’t always expect you, right?” He teases, barely at eye level.

“You might as well, pal.” You gently pat him, feeling his muscles jump with laughter. There’s a sound, tires crunching under the fresh snow. You turn your head away to look out the side window and that’s when you spot a Blue line cab slowly rolling up to the curb. “I think that’s my ride. I’ll see you later then?”

“Sure. Text me when you get home.” So you both exchanged numbers, a very normal 21st century thing to do except for the fact that Steve has an old school Nokia and has almost always left you on read. You raise your brows at the leveling proclamation. Something tells you that maybe he’s figured it out this time.

“We’ll see about that.” You finally adjourn, taunting him a look of endearment. “Have a good night, Steve”

“You as well.” He whispers, releasing you from his brazen hold that falls into fists. You easily gravitate away, completely ardent by the inseparable feeling.

Within a few short steps the waspy winter air nips you under the toque you had thrown on. Your feet trudge across the snow paved crosswalk, shuddering as the cabbie rolls down his window. The interaction is brief, Steve hypothesizes and that’s when you hop into the back seat, smiling brightly at the partition ahead. That smile.

Your mouth moves, animating a long night that wields exhaustion but through and through again you always ask the other if they’re doing OK. And for that you were a good woman.

“Pretty girl.” Marlene comments and that gyps Steve who loses sight at the white snow glare and the winding tire tracks left behind. You were long gone, so he’s aware. “There’s obviously no way in hell you’re being honest with her.”

“Marlene.” He turns his head and eyes her up and down. Her fashion is demure, nothing like his own mother yet she imparted with some acuity and care.

“So nice to be acquainted again, Steven.” She pleasantly recalls the first time they chatted. It was over the Accords, the anger that admonished him was truthfully inconceivable. Marlene had never antiquated his capabilities but she knew something in him burned like a phoenix rising from the ashes, a stubbornness that commands a fair wager - one she could appease.

“Would you like me to hail you a cab?” Steve patiently imposes, wringing his overworked wrists in the process.

“No thanks, my driver should be coming up right around the corner. But in the meantime I thought we could talk.” She coaxes, infringing her unsaid graces. Steve emotionlessly steps back, making room for guests to announce their departures.

“About?”

“Whatever is running through your veins.” She bows at his form and physique. If Steve could crawl out of his skin and bleed out, he would. He wasn’t a proud man. He was living in the ubiquitous shadows and cowering to his superhuman abilities. He has saved almost everyone except himself.

“Ah the serum.” He finally tuts, guiding her back to his workstation where they continue a long overdue conversation in private.

“It’s practically in you to give, darling.” She jokes the blood drive slogan. “But that’s where I rest my case.”

“How’s your family doing?” He slowly pulls up a seat behind the bar, feeling the resolute shin splints the second he settles down. She mimics him and does the same with a smile that barely reaches her ghastly eyes.

“They’re doing good, thanks.”

“Good. Good.”

“And what about yourself? Are you happy to be home again?” She postulates some more. Steve’s eyes flicker to his floor staff who are quietly dispersed, cleaning up areas of the bar and lounge while shuffling to Led Zeppelin, another band added to his growing ‘To Know’ list.

“I don’t know, I’m starting to think that I’ve outgrown this place.” He drones on while catching Matt do a broom guitar solo to Moby Dick that plays along with his elaborate riffs. The cacophony of laughter sets precedence for Ms. Marlene’s wise choice in words. Steve couldn’t hear any of it.

“It’s restless New York, what were you expecting?”

“Not this.” He quacks under his breath. Marlene presses her lips together, agonizing Steve’s misfortunes as a play out of time.

“You should’ve lived and then made peace with your existence a long, long time ago.” She kindly surveys. “Being a hundred years old, chronic and mighty is a sad cause to probate. Your work truly never ends.”

“Now you know what keeps me up at night.” Steve plucks a used coaster and tosses it aside, his tone wavers - thinking of all the possibilities to fall back into line and serve.

“Blame my great grandfather for putting you through it.” She chides with light laughter. “For some odd reason, he just knew it was you for him. The whole resolve was irreparable, that man was out of his mind.”

“I find that statement holds some water.”

“As it should.” She confirms. “Look Steve, I’ve observed you through a far away lens. Stories and revelations about you were miraculous, like the coming of god almost.”

“That couldn’t be me even on judgment day.”

“Possibly so.” She hums, grave in thought. “But here’s the thing, Fury thinks you're his guy and so does Stark. I think you have far more potential than the hand you've been dealt with... You can be your own man again Steve and not some nomocratic puppet.”

“You sound exactly like your great grandfather." Steve shakes his head. "But cocksure."

"The apple does not fall far from the tree."

"So what am I in for this time?”

She exhales, slumping her shoulders that have been stiff all night. “Well ever since the HYDRA invasion there’s been a lot of reinventive measures. Over time, no one’s gotten the super soldier serum to synthesize down to the exact molecular bond except for the late Dr. Wilfred Nagel, a good friend of mine.”

“You mean your lover.”

Marlene ignores him and her defeat is apparent but so is the ulterior motive.

“By his way of grace, my team has done something beyond extraordinary. After years of rehashing, we managed to extract sample proteins from his initial formula to create an impermeable catalyst bond. This newly reproved serum stops the regeneration of new cells whereas the conceding variants enable greater mutation spans."

"With succession and the utmost confidence, I want to give you a possible way out.” She solemnly proposes. “Ease you into a life that’ll surely come to an end.”

“So the cure for immortality?” Steve retells, briefly entertaining the idea of death and the coming into his human self.

“Exactly that.”

“You know Bruce has been going on a tangent about the serum and effects of gamma radiation. Maybe he could benefit from this program.”

“I'm asking you, Steve. I’m giving you a choice here, not an ultimatum.” She enunciates, evidently flummoxed.

“I don’t know Marlene. From how I see it there’s still a lot of unfinished business.” Steve calibrates on his own.

“The world has everyday heroes—“

“—That lay their lives down. I don’t deserve to do anything less than them. This isn’t about me.” He interjects. She has a permanent frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know we’re not perfect but the safest hands are still our own.”

Her silence is punctuated with a sigh. “There’s no convincing you Steve Rogers.” She picks herself up and back on her feet. “So I won’t ask again.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But if you look to those around you, you’d know that the greatest fight is only ever within you.” She sternly reminds him.

Steve looks down at his hands and surrenders. “Isn’t that half the battle?”

“Of course.” She gently scoffs, sliding her visiting card against the marbled counter. “Indubitably, I’ll leave you with this… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight to you as well.”

Her proposition leaves an embittered taste in Steve’s mouth as he watches her leave. If he was asked to revert right at the end of the Second World War he might’ve considered it; just to live life anew with acute normalcy.

Now the stakes were high and someone was bound to be on the lookout. People turned on people, willful experiments were often bipartisan of failed synergies. The risk to reward ratio was now incremental. He’d be counting his losses all over again and burning a whole new bridge while at it.

And then there’s you. A different side of the coin that he’s flipped for show.

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