#because steve briefly touched bucky's shoulder while they were alone together... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

biisexualemma · 3 years

Text

winter soldier. bucky barnes

word count: 2348

warnings: a bit of violence

requested: N/A

plot: you have to watch bucky fight like the winter soldier

a/n: i wrote this literally like thirty minutes after i watched ep.3 of tfatws! it is basically bucky's fight scene in the club because it's literally all i can think about after that episode (jesus christ it had me feeling a lot of things) but from your perspective. so i wrote this, same idea, some things changed slightly, e.g. you are also working with sam and bucky-- anyway! hope you like!

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / masterlist

"winter soldier."

you clenched your jaw, your teeth grinding together, eyes glued to bucky's vacant expression. your stomach was in knots. you were against the plan to begin with, but you had no choice but to take zemo's lead on this. that didn't mean you trusted him one bit, not after what he put your friends through. your hand remained firmly tucked against your thigh, where your knife was strapped to your leg.

you could feel your chest rising and falling faster as the man approached zemo from behind, your heart beating harder in your chest. the main reason behind your not wanting to go through with this mission was bucky. you knew how hard he worked every day to remove himself from his past, and here he was, again, placed right in the middle of everything he wanted to forget. the only reason you agreed to it was bucky's reassurance that he could handle it.

but right now, you were reminded of the man you met many years ago for the first time, only without the mask.

the man's hand fell onto zemo's shoulder. "attack," he spoke in the eerily familiar tongue.

he didn't hesitate, his vibranium arm snatched the man's hand away from zemo, you swore you heard something crack. you clutched your knife, yanking it out of it's holder, but before you got any further, sam's hand was restraining you. he didn't look your way, holding his cover, instead you both watched bucky drag the man away from the three of you, twisting his arm behind his back to where you heard another disturbingly loud crack.

you tried to keep your cover, but you couldn't help but flinch watching him use his full force to plough his vibranium arm against the mans chest, knocking him off his feet. his body slammed against the hard floor and you gulped, sam's hand tightening around your wrist when you made to move again.

"hold it," you glanced at sam for a split second, his eyebrows knitted tightly together watching the winter soldier in action, but he knew the consequences if he made to intervene. you could tell it was unsettling sam just as much as it was you, to watch bucky like this. but you had no choice but to stand and watch your boyfriend ruin anyone who came within a foot of him.

the bar was silent, the only sounds to be heard were the muffled groans coming from the man at bucky's feet. you noticed some of the people surrounding the fight had pulled out their phones and began recording the scene. you wanted to snatch them away and crumple them, but resolved to taking a deep breath and biting down on your tongue as hard as you could. you just had to endure for a little while longer and then it would be over.

you watched as bucky took apart two more men who came swinging towards him, zemo's expression was full of more amusement than you cared for. you felt blood trickling in your mouth, the metallic taste filling your taste buds after you had flinched and bit down harder on your tongue.

if sam hadn't been there to physically restrain you, you would've intervened long before this could start. you knew bucky was no longer controlled by zemo, but watching him fight like this was a brutal reminder of everything bucky had done and been through. you dreaded to think how it was making him feel having to slip back into the mindlessly violent nature that had been drilled into him.

sam's eyes darted around, watching bucky take out one guy after the next. zemo couldn't keep himself out of it, he shoved forward a bystander, watching, almost gleefully, as bucky threw a swing at the man, spinning him backwards before delivering another blow so forceful it took out another man standing behind him. your breath hitched in your throat, you couldn't stop yourself from cringing when another man was thrown off his feet, his spine cracking harshly against the metal joists when bucky's metal arm collided with his torso and sent him flying.

your ears were ringing slightly, your throat tightening the longer you watched this go on. "didn't take much for him to fall back into form," you heard zemo lean into sam's ear to mumble this but you caught it. you were going to kill that man yourself after this mission was over.

sam's grip loosened on your wrist when bucky clenched his metal hand around one man's neck, lifting him off his feet and slamming him down against the bar. you moved away from sam before he could stop you, your eyes wide with fear when bucky tightened his grip, the man's gasps for air were all that could be heard, that, and the cocking of several guns.

your hand moved from its position on your knife, to the cool metal of bucky's arm where he stood slowly cutting off this mans air supply. you clenched your hand tightly to pull him away, but he didn't shift, his intense gaze was locked on the man beneath him.

"stay in character or the whole bar turns on us," zemo muttered under his breath, his eyes wide and locked on yours. you hesitated, but pulled yourself away, not wanting to be the reason this mission was unsuccessful after everything you'd done to get to this point. you knew how much was riding on this.

you let out short, strained breaths, your eyes still locked on bucky's unwavering expression. you wondered how much he still felt in control of himself, or whether he was simply just keeping up the act.

"well done, soldier," zemo spoke after a brief silence. your stomach churned every time he would use that tongue to speak to bucky.

you watched bucky's eyes shift up to the bartender, his eyebrows slightly knitted and his hand slowly unclenching from around the mans throat. the man let out a strained wheeze, the breath returning to his lungs as bucky released his grip and let him fall to the ground with a thud behind him.

bucky could hear your loud, jagged breathing as you stood as close as possible to him without raising suspicion. he almost broke away when he felt your hand grip his arm earlier. but he didn't dare look to you, instead he kept his stare locked on the bartender in front of him, waiting for the words.

"silby will see you now," the bartender was watching bucky with an uneasy expression across his face. you watched bucky's chest rising and falling, you wanted desperately to reach out and touch his hand but you had to remind yourself why you were in this position to begin with. you needed to follow zemo's lead, find the source of the super-soldier serum and then you could deal with how you were feeling later.

"you good?" your voice came out smaller than you intended it to. you studied his expression from his profile, his tight lips and clenched jaw, waiting for him to break and look at you, but he didn't. he let out a quiet, hmph, nodding once before following zemo and sam to the back of the club.

you wished you were back in the club watching bucky beat those guys to a pulp, because after the past few hours, things somehow managed to go from bad to worse. your lead was now dead, literally, you bumped into sharon, of all people, who was meaner than you ever remember her being, and there was also a bounty on all of your heads.

currently, you were sat alone after having picked out fresh clothes from sharon's closet. she had reluctantly let you guys crash at her place, agreeing to help find a lead to doctor nagel.

you weren't sure how long you'd been sat staring at the wall in front of you until you heard footsteps approaching the room you were in. you didn't have to look to know who it was, you already knew. he sat beside you quietly, without saying a word. you could feel his eyes on you for a while before you forced yourself to meet his gaze. it was the first time you'd looked at him as himself, since the incident earlier. you gulped, his blue eyes not shifting from your own for even a second.

"hey," he mumbled softly. your eyebrows knitted into a delicate frown, you found yourself biting down on your tongue again. "you good?" you nodded, close lipped as you shifted your eyes from his face and down to your hands. you hadn't noticed your hands had clenched into tight fists.

after a brief silence, you felt your fingers uncurl, bucky's hand now enclosed in your fist. you let out a shaky breath, revelling in the comfort his touch brought you. you fiddled with his fingers, a habit you had when you were anxious that bucky let you use him for.

"are you good?" you gulped, glancing at him for a second before focusing on your tangled hands again. he nodded, letting out a quiet hum.

"i wouldn't've gone in there if i thought i couldn't handle it," you nodded, feeling his hand squeeze yours briefly. "i came to check on you."

your eyes fluttered, a wave of tire washing over you suddenly. you shook your head. "i'm fine, don't worry," you said it out of habit, but you knew bucky was the type to always worry. especially when it came to you.

"i never wanted you to have to see that again," you knew he was referring to the winter soldier. you had fought him back in the day with sam, nat and steve, before any of you knew who he really was. you'd been through a lot together, only recently had you become more than friends. or at least, you were trying to give it a go, things just kept getting in the way.

"i hardly saw anything," you tried to lie to ease his conscience. you sighed, looking up into his eyes again, they were soft and inviting, his lashes fluttering slightly when you met his gaze.

"you've always been a terrible liar," he tightened his lips into a halfhearted, closed-mouthed smile, trying to ease some of your anxiety. you mimicked his weak attempt at a smile, moving closer to him and leaning your head atop his shoulder. he shifted his free arm around your waist, tugging you as close to him as possible, leaning down to press a lingering kiss atop your head.

"i just want you to be safe, buck," you admitted. "i don't like that you're having to go through all this again-- what with zemo-- and this place-- i see how people look at you, how they talk to you."

"i know, doll," he mumbled, his lips resting softly against your temple now. you tried to relish in the short amount of time you had alone with him, your eyes closing for a moment as you breathed in his scent. "i don't like it either, but it's just for a bit longer."

you hummed quietly, letting yourself relax in his arm. your hand was still tangled with his own, your fidgeting had stopped and instead you let your fingers intertwine with his, him squeezing your hand now and again for reassurance.

"thank you for looking out for me," he spoke after a while of you two embracing each others company. "it's been a while, but it's a nice feeling."

you lifted your head, tilting your head back to get a good look at his face. he looked tired, but still wore a small, appreciative smile on his lips, along with his soft gaze. you felt your stomach flutter, you couldn't disguise a similar smile working it's way onto your lips. something about bucky was so sweet, in his nature, he cared so much for the people around him even if he was bad at communicating it sometimes. you wanted a better and quieter life for him when this was all finally over.

"it's nice to have someone to look out for," you muttered truthfully. you had spent such a long time fighting with the avengers, you'd never had the time to even go out on a date, never mind figuring out a relationship. and though it was difficult, sometimes, navigating your relationship with bucky, you knew at the end of the day, you liked him a lot, and you only wanted to be with him. and you were pretty sure he felt the same way towards you.

bucky's hand moved away from yours, to your chin, using his forefinger and thumb to tilt your chin upwards, your face moving closer to his. he leaned down and caught his lips against yours, his hand drifting to your jawline, where he held your face in the palm of his hand. your mind thought of nothing but the feeling of his lips moving against yours, soft and slow.

it didn't matter what was going to happen next, as long as bucky was there with you.

"oh-- shit-- i should've knocked," you pulled away, chuckling against bucky's lips, peeking out the corner of your eye to see sam had walked in and frozen once he realised what he'd walked in on. bucky groaned, his eyes rolling. of course, sam was interrupting.

"please-- get out," he shot a stone-cold glare towards sam, who chuckled uncomfortably.

"oh-- i wish i could," he groaned. "that was something i wish i'd never seen-- but the party is starting soon-- we gotta get out there."

you broke away, realising your short, but sweet moment was over. you kissed bucky quickly, one last time before pushing yourself up trying to shake your head clear of any thoughts of your boyfriend so you could focus on the mission.

you heard sam lower his voice, thinking somehow you wouldn't be able to hear him as he hung back with bucky, you walking ahead. "how you still got game like that? you're like a hundred and two--"

"hundred and six," he corrected, frowning at his partner. " and stop talking about my game."

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just-fandomthings · 3 years

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#48 for winteriron for the kisses ask??

...out of habit.

Much to Bucky’s delight and Tony’s dismay, he is able to identify twelve different ways to steal the Declaration of Independence other than what was portrayed in National Treasure.

“I can’t believe I missed that one,” Tony groans, sounding like he’s genuinely embarrassed at having only identified eleven ways to steal the Declaration of Independence versus Bucky’s twelve.

Bucky just laughs and tells Tony, “Eleven’s not bad, doll, for an amateur.”

“Excuse me?!” Tony cries, sounding put out. “I may have only been 34 when I saw National Treasure for the first time and not a senior citizen like you, but I’m not an amateur, I’m a professional.”

“A professional would have identified all twelve ways to steal the Declaration of Independence,” Bucky tells him seriously.

“Fri, are you hearing this? Betrayed by my own friend in my own home- make note of this frankly hurtful behavior, and the next time I’m inclined to have a movie night with Bucky, remind me of the cruelty that took place tonight,” Tony says with his arms folded across his chest, looking amused despite his best efforts to appear disgruntled.

Bucky takes one look at his expression and bursts out into laughter all over again.

“You’re mean,” Tony pouts, clearly trying his best to look offended. It’s a futile attempt on his part though, given how obvious it is that he’s on the verge of laughing too.

“And you’re a sore loser,” Bucky points out, grinning as he adds, “In addition to an amateur.”

Tony grumbles under his breath at his rude and unfair comments, but he’s smiling as he says it.

Bucky just smiles back at him as he turns his attention back to the-

Tony leans over into his space and kisses him on the cheek. Bucky knows his eyes are wide as he looks over, and no doubt he’s blushing too as he clears his throat and goes, “That- um, you- what was that for?”

Tony shrugs, flush high on his cheeks as he says nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal, “You looked happy.”

Happy? Bucky almost clarifies- me? He hasn’t felt happy in- in a long time, so long that he’s not even sure he remembers what it feels like to be happy. But he looks at Tony, thinking of the peace and safety he feels when he’s with him, and he thinks of their laughter and he realizes, I am happy.

A couple of days later, Bucky’s grinning as he watches Dum-E and U argue over who gets to bring the tennis ball back to him when Tony does it again. Bucky’s aware that he’s approaching from the desk he was working at, but he is still utterly taken by surprise when Tony presses up close into his personal space, stretches up on his toes, and kisses his cheek. He’s gone as quick as he comes, going right back to his desk and the gauntlet he’s working on, but the same flush is high on his cheeks again.

“What was that for?” Bucky manages to ask, when he’s done gaping at Tony like a love-struck teenager.

Tony glances over at him as Dum-E drops the ball into his hand triumphantly. “You looked happy,” he says.

Bucky turns away and smiles.

It happens again and again, and again. Bucky asks every time and Tony gives the same answer every time: you looked happy.

And if Bucky finds himself coming to the workshop more often or asking for more movie nights to see if he can get a kiss on the cheek from Tony, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Bucky is in the middle of arguing with Sam over who has the better taste in music when Tony enters the kitchen, half-asleep and clearly in search of coffee. Bucky stops his argument long enough to smile and say, “G’morning, Tony,” before he’s right back in the argument again.

“Now, hold on, I know you didn’t just insult Marvin Gaye!” Sam cries out, affronted.

“Of course I didn’t!” Bucky says, offended. “I like his music just fine, I was just merely pointin’ out that your taste in music could be improved if you listened to- what was that for?” he interrupts himself on autopilot when Tony sits down next to him at the kitchen counter and kisses his cheek before raising his mug to his lips.

“You looked happy,” Tony mumbles back his standard response, clearly still more asleep than awake as he sets his mug down on the counter and leans over to put his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky smiles softly at him and brings his arm around his shoulders before he continues, “Like I was saying, your music taste could be improved if you listened to- what’s wrong with your face?”

“Excuse me?” Sam huffs, staring at him weirdly still. “Take a look in the mirror, Barnes, and are we just not going to address the elephant in the room?”

“You were the one who cut me off before I could tell you-”

“No, not that, when did you two become a thing?” Sam gestures wildly between him and Tony. Bucky just stares at him blankly. “The kiss on the cheek, Tony sleeping on your shoulder; when did you two start dating?”

“We’re not,” Bucky says, frowning at him. “Tony just kissed my cheek, it’s our thing, you got a problem with that?”

“Your what?”

“Our thing,” Bucky repeats, starting to get defensive. “It’s nice, I like it, and it’s none of your business.”

Sam raises his hands a little. “Not judging, man,” he’s quick to reassure. “Just didn’t expect it, I guess.”

“I kissed him cause he was happy,” Tony says softly into his shoulder like it’s the only necessary explanation, and it is.

Bucky glares at Sam, silently daring him to say anything either against their thing or Tony. “It’s sweet,” Sam says after a moment, giving Bucky an all-knowing grin like he’s aware of something that Bucky’s not. “Now, bionic man, tell me, exactly whose music is so good that it’ll refine my already perfect taste in music?”

Bucky snorts and off they go again, like nothing ever happened.

Tony continues on with the kisses after that, now just without care of whether they’re alone or not. When they’re together, Tony kisses him all the time: while they’re watching a movie, while they’re working on a car engine together, and even while they’re talking about what their plans are for the day.

Tony also kisses him while he’s baking, while he’s reading, and while he’s playing with Dum-E and U. If Tony’s up early to catch a flight and happens to come across him and Steve as they’re laughing and coming in from a jog, Tony kisses him. He’ll kiss him while he’s bickering with Sam about something, or while he’s competing with Clint about who’s the better sniper. (He is, but Clint isn’t willing to admit defeat yet.) Tony’ll kiss him while he’s eating breakfast with Nat, or listening to Thor’s stories of Asgard, and he’s even brave enough to interrupt his cooking sessions with Bruce in order to steal a kiss.

Every time Bucky asks, “What was that for?” and every time Tony always says, “You looked happy.”

It’s their thing.

“You know, that first time you kissed my cheek when we were watching National Treasure, that was the first time I’d been kissed since HYDRA captured me,” Bucky tells him one day as they’re lounging on the sofa together.

Tony sets his tablet aside and looks at him. “I didn’t know that,” he says, looking unsure for a moment, as if he’s trying to gauge how serious the conversation is. He must see the gleam in Bucky’s eye because he adds, “I’m glad I was your first though.”

Bucky snorts, laughing easily like he always does with Tony. “Yeah doll, me too.” He looks at Tony, taking in the warmth in his eyes, and then leans over to kiss his cheek. He lingers there for a moment and then pulls back, heart pounding.

Tony half raises his hand like he’s going to touch his cheek. His eyes are wide and his cheeks a little flushed; in the last four months he’s been kissing Bucky, Bucky has never kissed him back, until now. “What was that for?” Tony asks hoarsely.

Bucky shrugs and says nonchalantly, like it isn’t a big deal, “You looked happy.”

Tony’s blush deepens. “I’m- I’m always happy when I’m with you,” he says quietly.

Bucky leans forward so there’s only a few inches of space between them. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly.

Tony glances down at his lips briefly and then looks back up as he nods, saying softly, “yes.”

Bucky leans in and closes his eyes, kissing him gently.

“What was that for?” Tony whispers when he pulls back.

“That was for always making me happy.”

Tony grins and kisses him again.

End.

#winteriron #bucky barnes #tony stark #my fanfic #this was a lot of fun!! thank you for this prompt <3 #i really hope you like this!#winteriron is one of my favorite ships and I’m in the middle of a huge WI fic (my first for the fandom lol if you don’t count this lol)#but in that fic they haven’t kissed yet so this was my first winteriron kiss!!#I have so much inspiration for that fic now tho too :)

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buckywilsonbarnes · 3 years

Text

I’ll Make This Feel Like Home

I’ve been sitting on this WIP for a while, so I finally decided to finish and post it! It’s just pure self-induglent Sambucky domestic fluff, but my heart really needed it after watching those scenes of them together in Louisiana. 😍😍😍

~*~

Sam x Bucky (4.8K of pure fluff, rated T.) No applicable warnings other than TFATWS spoilers for anyone who hasn’t watched the series yet.

"That," Bucky says as he pushes back from the table and pats his stomach, "was the best goddamn meal I've ever had. Seriously, like ever. You really outdid yourself," he tells Sarah, who gives him a shy smile in return.

"Thank you, Bucky," Sarah beams, her smile growing even wider as she reaches out to pat his shoulder. "I like this one," she tells Sam. "He's a keeper."

"Yeah, he sure is," Sam grins. "I thought about returning him a couple of times, but he kinda grew on me," he winks while slipping his hand under the table and squeezing Bucky's knee.

That causes a very attractive blush to spread across Bucky's face, and Sam can't help thinking about all of the ways he could make that happen again.

Bucky gives Sam a private smile and says, "I guess you're stuck with me."

"I can live with that," Sam happily agrees.

"Will you be staying long?" Sarah asks Bucky as she stands up and starts collecting their empty plates. "Not that I'm kicking you out, I promise. We have plenty of room, and you're more than welcome to stay as long as you like."

Or forever, Sam thinks, but he keeps that to himself.

This thing with Bucky, these fond looks and lingering touches, that's not exactly new territory for them.

It's just been a while, and Sam's a little unsure of the protocol here when they've only spent a handful of days together after nearly a month of radio silence.

That wasn't Sam's choice, but Bucky was furious when Sam mentioned that he was going to turn in the shield. Sam hadn't even done it yet, but it still led to an ugly argument which ended with Bucky refusing to answer Sam's texts or phone calls after that. Things only got worse from there when the government gave the shield to Walker, but Sam didn't feel like he had much of a choice in the matter.

Sam's no fool, he knew the government wouldn't allow him to become the next Captain America. It had been a sweet gesture on Steve's part, but it left Sam with more questions than he had answers for.

After they returned from the blip, Sam ended up living in Wakanda with Bucky for a while since his previous apartment in D.C. was long gone. It was a hard truth to accept, but a lot had changed in five years. Sam knew he could go back to Delacroix and live with Sarah and the boys, but he wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Not that he didn't miss them dearly, but he wanted to take some time to adjust to this new normal before moving back home. It was a lot to process at the time, and Sam definitely didn't want to give Sarah any more reasons to worry about him.

Naturally, Shuri and T'Challa happily opened their hearts and home to him when Bucky explained Sam's situation. They were extremely gracious about it and assured Sam that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.

That only ended up being a few months, but it allowed Sarah to prepare for Sam's return, and for Sam to be in a much better mental state.

Truth be told, Sam's not quite sure he could have recovered as quickly as he did if it weren't for Bucky.

Bucky, who hadn't even hesitated to ask Shuri and T'Challa if Sam could stay in Wakanda with them.

Bucky, who had been nothing but sweet and charming to him the entire time Sam was there.

Bucky, who always held and comforted Sam when he needed it.

Bucky, who never judged or pitied Sam when he cried.

Bucky, who always dried Sam's tears with a gentle touch.

Bucky, who understood that anger was a perfectly valid emotion, given everything they'd been through.

Bucky, who was typically a man of few words, but happily talked Sam's ear off whenever Sam needed a distraction from his thoughts.

Bucky, who has been through his own share of personal horrors, but always put Sam's comfort and well-being before his own.

Bucky, who quickly became one of Sam's very best friends and completely stole his heart.

Their nights together in Wakanda were Sam's favorite because they would often lie on a blanket under the stars, just the two of them. They told each other things they never shared with anyone else, not even Steve, and Sam really enjoyed getting to know the real Bucky.

Their interactions always remained platonic, but Sam would be lying if he said he didn't want more. He often wondered if Bucky did too, but Sam ended up leaving before he had a chance to find out.

Back in the present, Bucky shakes his head in response to Sarah's question as he gives Sam a wistful smile.

"Nah, I wish. I've got some things to take care of back in Brooklyn, so I'm leaving tomorrow, actually. But," he adds hopefully, "I would love to come back for another visit sometime. If that's okay."

"Absolutely," Sarah nods. "You're always welcome here anytime, so don't be a stranger," she says as she leans down and kisses Bucky's cheek.

"Watch yourself, baby sister," Sam glares as he swats at her with a dish towel.

"Do that again Samuel, and I'm throwing out the rest of the beignets," Sarah threatens.

"Okay, truce," Sam relents as he holds up his hands in mock surrender. Sarah's beignets are his favorite, and he doesn't doubt that she would throw them away just to spite him.

"I better have another one, just in case he decides to stick his foot in his mouth again," Bucky tells Sarah as he reaches for the plate of leftovers.

"Oh, you think you're cute, huh?" Sam smirks as he snaps the dish towel in Bucky's direction this time.

"Not as cute as you, Samuel," Bucky drawls just before taking a bite of the fluffy pastry.

Sam's entire face flushes hotly as he looks up and meets Bucky's eyes.

Is he…flirting?

It's been a while since anyone has flirted with him, so Sam is a bit out of practice. Still, there's a mischievous twinkle in Bucky's eyes that Sam hasn't seen in months. The warmth suddenly spreads from his cheeks straight down to places that he doesn't want to think about with his little sister in the room.

"Well, at least we agree on something," Sam jokes as he plucks the half-eaten beignet out of Bucky's hand and pops it into his mouth. It's a weak reply, but it's all his brain could come up with after being caught off guard like that.

Bucky isn't even fazed, he just reaches for another beignet and eats it in two bites. "God, these are amazing," he moans.

It's pure torture for Sam, watching helplessly as Bucky licks the powdered sugar from his lips.

"Thank you," Sarah says as she places a sealed paper bag in front of Bucky. "These are for you to take home with you. They won't be quite as good as they are when they're fresh, but just heat them up in the oven for about five minutes and they'll be pretty close."

"Marry me," Bucky says dramatically as he reaches for both of Sarah's hands. "Make an honest man out of me, Sarah Wilson."

"You're sweet," Sarah giggles as she pulls her hands back and dusts them off, "but I don't feel like being turned into fish food."

"Empty threats," Bucky waves dismissively in Sam's direction. "He'll eventually learn to accept our love."

Sam almost chokes on his beer at Bucky's words. He knows it's all a joke and he's pretty sure (okay, somewhat sure) that Bucky isn't actually interested in his sister, but it still leaves a very unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Especially because Bucky can really lay on the charm when he wants to.

"I'm going to miss you," Sarah tells Bucky as she holds out her arms and wraps him up in a hug.

No, Sam is absolutely not jealous about that. He's just going to drink the rest of his beer and pretend like he doesn't want to pry them apart. (He is secretly thrilled that they get along so well, but he can obviously never let them know that. It would give them too much power.)

"I'll miss you too, sweetheart," Bucky says as he lifts Sarah right off of her feet and swings her around. "I promise I'll be back, though."

"I'm holding you to that," Sarah tells him while poking Bucky's chest.

"Please do," Bucky laughs as he sets her back down.

"Okay gentlemen," Sarah says as she continues stacking plates next to the sink, "any chance you guys might take care of the dishes so I can pry the boys away from their video game and tuck them in?"

"Of course," Bucky nods while reaching out and offering Sam a hand. "You wash, I'll dry?"

"Deal," Sam grins as he lets Bucky help him to his feet. Not that Sam needs it, but he loves that Bucky is so delightfully chivalrous.

"Don't let him trick you into doing all the work," Sarah warns Bucky as she pulls him into another hug. "And you better come down and say goodbye before you leave tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am," Bucky says as he gives Sarah one last squeeze. "Thanks again for dinner, and just for everything, really."

"Thanks for always keeping my brother safe," Sarah smiles at them both as she exits the kitchen.

"Your family is amazing," Bucky tells Sam once they're alone. "Cass and AJ are the sweetest kids, and I'm really going to miss this place."

"Don't miss it for too long then," Sam says as he claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I know you have stuff to sort out in Brooklyn, but you can always come back here afterward. Maybe stay a while and make a proper vacation of it," he suggests.

"I thought we were going to take separate vacations?" Bucky teases.

"I've got Carlos and his fillet knife on speed dial, just so you know," Sam jokes as he grabs two more beers from the fridge and hands one to Bucky.

"I'm kidding," Bucky says as he accepts the bottle. Their fingers connect briefly, and Sam wishes they could live in this moment forever. No threats on their lives, no drama, just each other.

"Well I'm serious about you coming back. You up for it?" Sam asks.

"Definitely," Bucky nods before taking a sip from his beer. "Just let me tie up some loose ends in Brooklyn, then I'm all yours," he winks.

It's a common phrase, Sam realizes, but it still causes a sudden warmth to bloom in his chest.

I'm all yours.

Yeah, he could get used to that.

"Works for me," Sam says as he sets his beer down and turns his attention to the sink.

Bucky's words keep replaying in his head like a broken record: I'm all yours…I'm all yours...I'm all yours… so Sam has to occupy his hands before he does something reckless.

"Here, let me help," Bucky offers as he grabs a clean dish towel and joins Sam by the sink.

Bucky's 'help' turns out to be nothing but a distraction since he's pressed up against Sam's side, warm and solid. Sam's not really sure when Bucky started wearing cologne, but the one he's got on right now smells familiar. It's probably one of his own, Sam distantly realizes, since they both showered just before dinner.

Bucky hadn't brought much with him besides a single change of clothing, so he likely hadn't packed many toiletries.

"Are you wearing my cologne?" Sam asks out of curiosity, not that he minds in the least. Bucky usually just smells like fabric softener, which always makes Sam want to hold him close and breathe him in.

"Yeah," Bucky admits, "I hope you don't mind. I didn't bring any, so I just wanted to smell nice."

"You do," Sam says as he nudges Bucky's shoulder. What he doesn't dare mention is the fact that Bucky smells exactly like he probably would if he woke up in Sam's arms, with their combined scents mingling together. "You look nice, too," he adds in what he hopes is an appreciative tone.

Since Bucky neglected to pack anything to sleep in, he's wearing one of Sam's favorite T-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. The shirt is a bit snug, but it clings to him in all the right places.

"Thanks," Bucky blushes as Sam hands him some plates to dry.

"You're welcome," Sam says while trying his best not to think about how much better that shirt would look on his bedroom floor.

"Do you think Sarah would share her beignet recipe with me?" Bucky asks a moment later.

"Doubtful," Sam snickers. "She's definitely taking that one to the grave with her. Hell, I don't even know it," he confesses.

"Oh," Bucky frowns. "Well, maybe she can still teach me how to make 'em even if we use a different recipe," he muses. "They're so goddamn addictive."

Shaking his head, Sam says, "they'll never be the same. You need water from the bayou to make them just right."

"Bullshit," Bucky scoffs as he gives Sam a playful shove.

"Hey, don't mock the process," Sam laughs, "but I can teach you if you really want to learn."

"Cool," Bucky grins. "I did a lot of cooking when I was in the Army. I wasn't half bad at it, actually."

"I can see that about you," Sam nods. "Especially living in Brooklyn. I bet you'll turn into one of those foodie snobs in no time."

"Nah," Bucky shakes his head, "I've never been too picky when it comes to food. My ma always taught me to eat whatever was put in front of me, so I doubt I'll ever become a snob about it."

"Sounds like she raised you right, then," Sam smiles.

"Guess so," Bucky agrees as he ducks his head shyly.

They work in companionable silence for the next few minutes, with Sam washing the dishes and then handing them over for Bucky to dry. The kitchen has a nice, wide sink, but no luxuries such as a dishwasher. That's fine with Sam, though. He's glad Sarah chose to preserve the original architecture, rather than overload the house with too many modern fixtures.

"Are there any more dishes left?" Sam asks a little while later as he's rinsing off some forks.

"Nope," Bucky says as he reaches around Sam and shuts off the tap. "All done," he adds in a low voice as he anchors his hands on Sam's hips and presses himself close.

It's so unexpected that it shocks Sam into dropping the forks back into the sink.

"Shit," he curses as soapy water splashes the front of his T-shirt.

"Sorry," Bucky laughs, clearly aware of the effect he's having on Sam.

"No you're not," Sam fires back because Bucky knows exactly what he's doing.

"No, I'm really not," Bucky purrs as he tucks his face into the curve of Sam's neck.

Sam had forgotten how sexy the scrape of stubble could feel. Sweet Jesus.

"Are you nuzzling me?" Sam tries to play it cool, but his voice betrays him by cracking slightly.

"Mmmhmm," Bucky confirms as he rests his chin on Sam's shoulder. "Just let me know if this makes you uncomfortable, and I promise I'll stop."

"Okay," Sam says a bit shakily, "did you accidentally eat some catnip?" Friendly touches are pretty common between them now, but there's absolutely nothing platonic about the way Bucky's got him pressed up against the counter.

Bucky chuckles at that while slipping his hands under Sam's shirt and trailing them over the smooth skin just above Sam's waistband. "I'm fine, Sam."

"Well something's up," Sam insists, but he doesn't pull away.

"Not yet," Bucky leers as he gives Sam's hips a squeeze. "But maybe if you play your cards right."

"Buck," Sam freezes, because that is entirely possible to misinterpret, "are you flirting with me?"

"Well, if you have to ask, then I'm obviously doing it wrong," Bucky laughs again. "I was a lot smoother back in the forties, I swear."

"You're doing fine," Sam praises as he melts into Bucky's touch. "You just caught me off guard, that's all."

"I'm full of surprises, sweetheart," Bucky whispers as he grazes his lips against Sam's neck.

Sam can't help shivering at the touch, because Bucky's lips are a warm contrast to the crisp evening breeze filtering through the open windows. The sweet scent of gardenias fills the air as Sam tries to calm his racing heart.

It's just Bucky, he thinks, which would have completely unnerved him once upon a time. Now it's a familiar comfort, like his favorite sweater, or the melodic sound of his nephews' laughter. Still, he can't seem to contain the flutter in his chest because he knows they're crossing a line that they've been cautiously avoiding for years.

"I like surprises," Sam says as he turns around and grips Bucky by the front of the T-shirt. The fabric is soft, and he can feel the heat from Bucky's skin seeping through it.

"I like you," Bucky counters as he cradles Sam's jaw with one hand. With the other, he hooks his fingers into Sam's belt loops and hauls him closer.

"I like you too," Sam admits as he drops his hands down and settles them on Bucky's waist.

"Glad we're on the same page," Bucky grins as he sweeps his thumb over Sam's cheek. "Would it be terribly old-fashioned of me to ask for permission to kiss you?"

"Yes," Sam says, eyes sparkling with delight, "but I sure hope that's not gonna stop you."

"Consider this my formal request, then," Bucky winks as he tilts Sam's face up.

"Permission granted, Sergeant," Sam murmurs just before Bucky kisses him. It's a slow, sweet drag of their lips at first, then Bucky carefully changes the angle as he cups the back of Sam's neck and deepens the kiss.

Sam lets out a whimper as he reaches up to run his fingers through Bucky's hair. It's the shortest it's ever been since Sam has known him, but he loves it like this. Bucky barely looks older than he did in the forties, and he's still every bit as handsome.

"Finally," Bucky pants shakily against Sam's mouth. "God, I've been wanting to do that for so long."

"Me too, baby," Sam replies as he wraps his arms around Bucky's neck.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time," Bucky suggests as he leans in for another kiss. It's every bit as sweet as the first one but slightly less gentle as he pins Sam to the counter and rocks their hips together.

"Fuck," Sam groans as he pulls back suddenly and rubs Bucky's cheek. He can hear the TV upstairs so he knows that someone is still awake. Probably Sarah, but it could easily be the boys since it's not even that late. "As much as I really want to take this further, we can't right now. Not until we're sure that everyone's asleep."

"Sweetheart," Bucky says as he slides forward and nudges their noses together. "You don't owe me any explanations. This is your house and I would never want to make anything weird for you and your family. Especially for you, Sam."

"I know," Sam nods, "and I really appreciate that. I just wish we had some privacy, that's all."

"We will," Bucky smiles while adding, "they've gotta fall asleep sometime, right?"

"Right," Sam laughs as he kisses Bucky softly. "You're amazing, you know that? Just in case I don't tell you enough."

"Wait, does that mean I'm not as annoying as you like to pretend I am?" Bucky teases.

"No," Sam grins brightly, "you're definitely still annoying."

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly as he reaches for Sam's hand and steers him into the living room. "Well you're no picnic either, baby doll," he says finally as he drops down onto the couch and pulls Sam into his arms.

"Must be why we're perfect for each other, huh?" Sam winks as he settles onto Bucky's lap and kisses him again.

"Must be," Bucky agrees as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck and kisses him back.

"So, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Bucky tells Sam a while later when they're curled up on the couch watching TV.

"What is it?" Sam asks as he sits up and turns to face Bucky. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Bucky replies. "But I kinda broke the lease on my apartment, so that's why I'm heading back to Brooklyn. There's not much left in it, honestly, but I have to pick up the rest of my stuff and then just turn in my keys. I could use some company though if you wanna come with me?"

"Of course, baby," Sam says as he reaches out and squeezes Bucky's knee. "Oh shit, I should probably check for a last-minute flight, though."

"No need," Bucky tells him. "I, uh, kinda hoped you'd say yes, so I already got you a ticket."

"And what if I said no?" Sam challenges.

"Oh," Bucky frowns, "then guess I'd just go alone and miss you the whole time."

"Who knew you were such a drama queen?" Sam smirks while leaning in to kiss Bucky's pout away. "I'm kidding, baby; I'd love to go with you. But wait, where are you moving to then?"

"Well," Bucky blushes, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I used to love living in New York, but it's changed a lot since I was a kid. It's too damn loud, for one," he laughs. "That, or maybe I'm just not cut out for big city life anymore."

"So, you're leaving the city," Sam says, but it's not a question. He tried to talk Bucky out of moving there in the first place, but he figured it must have been a comfort thing. It's the only place Bucky has ever lived, so it made sense that he'd end up there, at least for a little while.

"Yeah," Bucky nods. "It's just not home to me anymore. I mean, I guess it hasn't been for the last eighty years, so I think it's time to move on."

"So where did you have in mind?" Sam asks. He doesn't want to assume anything, but he suddenly feels pretty hopeful about what Bucky may be getting at.

"Here," Bucky says while brushing his lips against Sam's. "You're home to me, so I just wanna be wherever you are, baby. I already looked up some apartment listings earlier and I found a few that looked promising. I mean, if you're cool with all of this. I don't want to make you feel pressured, or make things weird, or - "

Sam cuts him off with a kiss so intense that it leaves them both completely breathless.

"Bucky," Sam pants a moment later. "Are you kidding me? You know I hated the idea of you living all alone in Brooklyn, and I hope you know that I always want you around me."

"Always?" Bucky blushes as he shifts closer and rubs his nose against Sam's.

"Always," Sam repeats as he tilts his head and kisses Bucky again. "You're not gonna need that apartment, though."

"I won't?" Bucky says while giving Sam a teasing grin. "How come?"

"Well," Sam explains as he hauls Bucky off of the couch and leads him over to the window. From there, they have a perfect view of the backyard which is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. "I was actually thinking about building a place for us. We own this land and there's plenty of extra room," he adds while gesturing out the window. "So I was thinking we could build an extension for ourselves, sort of like a guest house. That way, we'll have our privacy, but we can still be near Sarah and the boys. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds like a goddamn amazing plan to me," Bucky says as he turns to wrap his arms around Sam and pull him close. "I haven't known your family for even a whole day yet but I already love them almost as much as I love you," he smiles before leaning in for another kiss.

"Whoa," Sam gasps. "You love me?"

"So much," Bucky nods. "I know it's probably way too soon to say it, but - "

"No, it isn't," Sam disagrees as he gently trails his fingertips over the scruff on Bucky's jaw, "not if you really mean it."

"I've honestly never meant anything more," Bucky murmurs as he steals another kiss. This one is just a quick peck, but Sam still feels it all the way down to his toes.

"Bucky, I - "

"I don't expect you to say it back," Bucky quickly interjects before Sam can even get a word in. "I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me, sweetheart. I know I'm not good with words, and okay, most of the time I'm just not good at expressing myself in general, but - "

"Bucky," Sam tries a little more firmly this time as he rubs the back of Bucky's neck. "I love you too. I've known it since Wakanda for sure, but probably even before that, honestly. You may be a pain in my ass sometimes, but you're the only one I trust with my heart," he finishes as he tugs Bucky forward and kisses him deeply.

"Holy shit," Bucky says as he pulls back and gives Sam a hopeful look. "You love me? Like really?"

"Really," Sam nods as he reaches for Bucky's hand and drags him back over to the couch. "I know it's been a while since we've talked about it," he continues once they get settled, "but I honestly don't know where I'd even be right now if it weren't for you. I was really struggling to accept how much life had changed after the blip, but you," Sam pauses as he turns toward Bucky and scoots closer, "you were my knight in shining armor. Literally," he emphasizes as he reaches for Bucky's vibranium hand and squeezes it. "Thank you, baby. That really meant a lot to me, just in case I don't say it enough."

"Sweetheart, you of all people have nothing to thank me for," Bucky says. "You deserve the world, Sam Wilson, he whispers as he takes hold of Sam's jaw and kisses him again.

"Thank you," Sam pants between kisses. "It's not a competition, but you know you deserve nice things too, right?"

Bucky smiles softly as he leans back and grips Sam by the shoulders. "Baby, I've already got everything I could ever possibly need or want right here."

The with you part goes unspoken, but Sam hears it anyway.

"I love you," Bucky continues as he gives Sam's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "When I escaped from HYDRA, I never dreamed that I could be happy again, or that I'd fall in love and have a shot at a normal life. Not that anything about our lives is exactly normal," he laughs.

"No, definitely not," Sam agrees, "but we make it work."

"We sure do, sugar," Bucky says as he drops a kiss on Sam's shoulder.

"So how about it?" Sam asks as he reaches for Bucky's hand and laces their fingers together. "Do you think you could be happy here in Delacroix?"

"I don't care where we live," Bucky says as he slides onto Sam's lap. "Here, New York, Wakanda, fucking Mars, even. Delacroix is amazing, but honestly, I'll be happy wherever we are as long as you're there with me," he finishes as he tilts Sam's face up for a kiss.

"You know we don't have any of those fancy sushi joints here, right? Or those hipster coffee shops that you love so much," Sam teases.

"That's okay," Bucky grins as he presses a trail of kisses up Sam's neck. "I make damn good coffee actually, and I happen to know of a fantastic place to get seafood. The owners are a little grumpy, but you learn to love 'em."

"Is that so?" Sam pretends to glare as he pokes Bucky in the ribs.

"Yes it is," Bucky huffs while trying to squirm out of Sam's grasp. "And I think the one with the hot ass might have a crush on me."

"You better be talking about me," Sam smirks as he shoves Bucky backward and crawls on top of him.

"Only you, my love," Bucky says seriously as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck.

"Good answer," Sam winks as he bends down and kisses Bucky slowly. "I love you," he adds when he pulls back and rests their foreheads together.

Bucky smiles at that, sweet and soft and so ridiculously fond as he leans in and nuzzles Sam's cheek.

"I love you more."

~*~

#Sambucky #Winterfalcon #my writing #they make me so happy #especially Bucky taking care of Sam #my baby deserves the world #😍😍😍😍😍#please ignore any glaring mistakes #I think I edited this so much that my eyes were starting to cross #yes I absolutely used a 1D lyric for the title #because that's my other main fandom #and their lyrics make amazing fic titles

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Two

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: This one was gonna be super short but I felt bad so it’s super long instead lol. I originally planned on posting shorter chapters more frequently so it might be closer to 3-4 days between parts now that I’m posting longer chapters. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m going to keep the limit pretty small. And if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ❣️

(Part One)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

About an hour later, a light knock on the lab door drew your eyes from your work to Bucky as he walked in. Peter’s eyes darted up but immediately looked back down when he realized the visitor was for you.

“Hey Bucky,” you smiled. He smiled back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So… you wanted to see my arm?” he said, more as a question than a reminder.

“Yeah, if you could sit right here, that’d be perfect.”

He did as you asked and took a seat on a lab chair, letting you lean across the lab table toward him so you could fiddle with his prosthetic arm. You quickly grabbed your magnifying glasses, flipping the magnifiers up so you could examine him at face value first.

After a few minutes of looking at the outer plating and sensory receptors, you pulled away.

“Can you feel with this arm?” you asked.

“I can feel pressure but I can’t actually feel with it.” You gave him a confused look, only sort of piecing together what he meant. As he fumbled over his words to explain again, you put your glasses to the side, running around to Bucky’s side again to stand in front of him.

“Okay, this might be weird but it’ll really help me. Hold your hands out, palms up.” He did as you said. “I’m going to do the same thing to both arms and then I want you to show me, using just your right arm, how it felt on each one, okay?”

Bucky nodded and watched as your fingertips gently glided over his forearms, leaving goosebumps in your wake. The second time, you brushed your palms against his skin, as if you were brushing away crumbs. The final time, you scratched your nails down his right arm, making him take in a sharp breath as he watched the skin of his arm turn a pale pink. His left arm, however, kept catching your fingernails between the plates so you resorted to scratching across instead of down.

“Okay, now show me.�� You flipped both of your arms over, palm up.

Using just his flesh arm on your right arm, he grazed his fingertips over your skin, admittedly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t even consider how weak that touch usually makes you, especially from someone who looks like that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive before you even graduated college. You and your roommates were guilty of many nights of fuck-marry-fight with the Avengers as your victims.

When your gaze moved up to meet his, he brushed his hand over your arm, then delicately scratched his nails down your arm.

If it hadn’t been for the slight hum of machinery across the room, you’re sure Bucky would’ve heard your heart beating out of your chest.

Dad would literally kill me if he knew the thoughts going through my head right now, you thought.

“Okay,” you started, pausing briefly to clear your throat. “What about what your left arm feels?”

This one made him furrow his brows, either in concentration or confusion. He pushed his fingertips against your skin harder than before and moved them down your arm. He used more pressure again with the second movement, then went back to heavy fingertip pressure for the scratches.

“Hm,” you said simply, letting your arms drop to your sides again. “So you feel the weight of the touch but not the sensation that comes with it?” The confusion in his eyes made you rephrase. “So this on your right arm —“ you ran your fingers down his flesh arm again, “gives you goosebumps, but this on your metal arm —“ you repeated on the left, “is just a weight, no shiverbugs?”

“Shiverbugs?” he repeated with a barely noticeable smile.

“Goosebumps! Sorry. Shiverbugs is something my grandma used to say. Sometimes I slip into the family slang,” you chuckled. Bucky’s smile grew a bit at the sound of your laugh.

“Yeah, I only feel that on the right arm. No shiverbugs with the left.”

You jokingly scrunched your nose at him before returning to your previous seat. He stood there as you scribbled down notes on how he feels things and your immediate thoughts on how to make it more real for him.

“Is there anything you want done to your arm?”

Bucky seemed slightly taken aback at the question, but quickly steeled his expression. “I know Tony wanted to make it quieter,” he said.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned your elbows on the table between you. You could tell he was still pretty reserved, either because you were new and he didn’t feel comfortable around you, or because he didn’t feel comfortable in the tower as a whole yet.

“I know what Tony wants,” you said gently. “What do you want?”

He frowned at this, turning his eyes to the floor as he thought. After a beat, he finally said, “I just want it to feel real again.”

And you could’ve cried right then and there. You knew the story of the Winter Soldier. You had heard what Bucky had been through. You couldn’t imagine going through anything close to what he experienced, and you’d be damned if you let him down.

But you couldn’t cry in front of him on your first day, so you smiled at him softly.

“That’s not an easy feat but I’ll do what I can, Barnes.”

He smiled briefly before frowning again. That frown seemed to be his default expression.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks for helping me out,” you replied. He just nodded before walking out. Your eyes stayed on the door for an extra couple seconds before you spun around on your seat and scurried across the room to plop down next to Peter, who was packing his stuff to head home for the day.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, question.” Peter looked at you with raised eyebrows. Nicknaming ran in the family. “Want to use that biomolecular engineering and help me with something?”

•••

Nearly every day when you stopped in the kitchen for lunch, you’d run into Bucky. Sometimes he’d be with Sam, sometimes Steve, sometimes on his own. But almost every single day, he’d be in the common room chatting or the kitchen eating. For the first couple weeks, he was a little tense when you were around. You’d hear him and Sam bickering as you approached, just to see him quiet down once you entered the room. It was a bit disheartening at first, but when it was just the two of you, he always engaged.

You’d called him into the lab a couple times to look over his arm again, but you always felt bad taking him away from whatever training or cases he was working on. The digital renderings were always there, and you spent plenty of time digging into those and running simulations of the different ways you could muffle the wiring. And it’s a good thing you ran the simulations, because a couple of them would’ve fried his whole arm and then some.

Peter was a great help too. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, he’d poke his nose into your work and throw out recommendations. Robotics may have been your specialty, but the kid knew his stuff. He’s the only reason you finally figured out the perfect combo to quiet Bucky’s arm without knocking him out.

Nearly four weeks after your first day — and a week after Peter went back to campus, leaving you alone in the lab — you cornered Bucky in the communal kitchen again and turned on your classic Stark charm.

“Hey Bucky,” you said sweetly, leaning over the counter across from him while he tossed fruit into a blender.

“Hey [Y/N].”

You’d grown a bit more comfortable with each other, mainly from when you two were left alone. He still was a bit quieter with one of his friends around, but he was growing more talkative in general. You felt comfortable tossing nicknames at him; he felt comfortable saying “hey” instead of “hi” and once gave you your own nickname. Since you called him Bucky Bear a time or two, he called you Build A Bear. He almost looked panicked when it slipped, but your initial shock was quickly followed by giggles, easing the tension in his shoulders. But the feeling that name sent to your stomach felt more like bats than butterflies. He even joked with you now.

“So I’ve been looking at the blueprints we have for your arm and I was wondering — I know this is a lot to ask — could I maybe spend some more time digging around in your arm?” You flashed him a hopeful smile, even propping your chin on your hand to look cuter.

Before he answered, he put the lid on the blender and started it, staring at you blankly as the sound filled the entire room. You just sat there, continuing to smile at him. And the more you fluttered your lashes while he let the blender run, the more you could see his frown-y facade start to crack.

He finally broke into a smile when he shut the machine off.

“You don’t have to ask, [Y/N]. I mainly train in the mornings so my afternoons are free. As long as I’m here, you can call me in whenever.”

You jumped up and ran around the counter, giving him an unexpected hug, made obvious by the way he tensed up. You elected to ignore it.

“You’re the best, Bucky Bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, gently pulling away from you to pour his smoothie into two glasses. “I just have one stipulation.” You looked up at him expectantly. “Take the rest of this? I, uh, I made a bit too much.”

With a laugh, you grabbed the nearly full glass and led him down the halls to your lab. Since Peter was only coming back one weekend a month, you had kind of taken over the lab, adding some color to make your workspace a little less drab. Your guilty pleasures playlist — aka your favorite middle school dance songs — played quietly over the speakers as you directed Bucky to sit down.

Getting into his arm wasn’t the easiest task. You had to pry off the opening of each individual outer plate, then unscrew — yes, with a screwdriver — the covering on the inner plates to actually see the wiring inside. Fortunately, Bucky brought his phone with him so he could occupy himself and let you focus. You were a bit surprised at how easily he understood modern technology, but he wasn’t quite the old man Steve was when it came to the changing times.

After spending a solid 10 minutes leaning over the lab table to open Bucky’s arm, you poked around inside for a while, jotting down notes as you went. Shuri had sent Tony quite a few notes for you to reference, but seeing everything firsthand and taking your own notes always helped.

Unfortunately, Bucky had two removable sections in his arm: one on his forearm, one in his bicep.

“Scale of one to ten, how comfy does the table look?” you asked.

Bucky looked up from his phone and gave you a confused look. “Uh, maybe a two? Why?”

“Well, Buckaroo, I need to get to the top plate too so you’ll have to either hold your arm up for me to get to it or lie down somewhere.”

He glanced back down at the table, then looked at you in confusion as he voiced his own suggestion. “What about the couch in the common room?”

You tapped your nose and pointed at him with a smile, gathering your supplies and the rest of Bucky’s arm. He led the way, lying flat on the couch and raising his left arm over his head.

“Is it okay if I play more music out here?” you asked as you unloaded everything.

“Sure. I should probably catch up on modern music anyway,” he said with a soft smile. You had Friday play your guilty pleasures playlist again while you got to work on opening up the top of Bucky’s arm.

You’d been poking around for almost 20 minutes when the silence was broken.

“Music nowadays is so sexual,” Bucky said suddenly.

“Hm. What makes you say that?” you asked, only half paying attention as you drew up more stream-of-consciousness notes on the coffee table beside you.

“This song.” You paused and immediately recognized the beat for “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent.

“Oh come on, as if you didn’t have any inappropriate songs in the ‘40s,” you scoffed.

“Of course we did but it was never this blatant! We were more subtle back then,” Bucky defended.

“Bro,” you deadpan. “If you think ‘Candy Shop’ is obvious, you have way more catching up to do. Friday, play ‘WAP’ by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.”

You watched Bucky react as the song started. Even the initial “there’s some whores in this house” made his eyes go wide. At “wet ass pussy make that pull out game weak,” he turned to you, beet red in the face.

“What kind of music do you listen to?!”

“This is a popular song!” you laughed. “We have some obviously sexual songs that aren’t quite as… vulgar too. Friday, play ‘T-Shirt’ by Thomas Rhett.”

Bucky eyed you cautiously this time, not quite sure if you were actually playing a more censored song. He visibly relaxed when he heard the first lyrics, “Get off of work and we meet down at our spot. We got a patio with a view of a parking lot.”

“See, this is already so much better.”

“Don’t act so innocent,” you smirked, rolling your eyes at him.

“That sounds like an accusation,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh, it is.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up to face you directly, one leg landing on each side of your body sitting on the floor. His posture combined with his playful conversation had you wondering where this confidence came from. Because you definitely liked it.

“Come on,” you scoffed. “You can’t convince me a face like that,” you pointed directly at him to emphasize your point, “wasn’t making panties drop left and right back in the day.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself, leaning back on the couch, yet made no move to deny your accusation.

“Who would’ve known my sweet little Bucky Bear was a player?” you joked.

“Oh, like you’re not the same way, Build A Bear.”

“Excuse me?!” you squealed. “I’ll have you know I’m a good little Christian girl and I’m saving myself for marriage,” you said with a grin, maneuvering from sitting on your butt to kneeling and clasping your hands together like you were praying.

“You’re a lot of things, [Y/N]. A good liar is not one of those things,” Bucky smirked.

Your mouth fell agape. You liked this confident, playful side of him. You’d only seen glimpses until now.

“What’s your number?” you asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Uhh… My phone number?”

“No, your sexual body count,” you laughed, making sure to clarify; former assassins probably have a different interpretation of ‘body count.’ “How many people have you slept with?”

You knew it was a personal question but given the topic of conversation and casual tone you’d both taken on, it didn’t seem totally out of bounds.

Bucky thought for a second, slowly counting on his fingers. Your eyes watched as the slender metal digits flicked up: one, two, three... “Four.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Because that’s my body count.”

“Doll, I took plenty of dames out on the town, but I’d leave the night with a kiss and nothing else,” he said, that old school Brooklyn lilt sneaking up on him.

You sighed and shook your head, still not believing him but choosing to let it go for now.

“Give me your arm,” you said, holding your hand out. Bucky let his arm drop into your hand while you picked up a microchip with a needle-thin pair of tweezers. “This will adhere to the vibranium and essentially act like a pillow to muffle the sounds of your arm. So it’ll still make noise — I can’t just get rid of all sound — but it’ll be notably quieter.”

You tucked the chip under the inner plating of Bucky’s arm, watching as it sparked over the metal to let you both know it was working.

“Now lie back down so I can put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,” you said.

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, but leaned back on the couch with his left arm over his head. After 15 minutes of angling the plating just right so it would fit back together, you climbed off the couch, distancing yourself from Bucky for the first time in nearly four hours.

“Anything else I can help the mad scientist with today?” Bucky asked. He had moved to rest his elbows on his knees, looking up at you from his spot on the sofa.

You checked your watch to see how much time you had left in your workday. 4:15. Forty-five minutes until you can clock out for the weekend. Not quite close enough to bullshit through some dumb side project so you don’t get too invested. But there’s one thing you wanted to check out to improve the feeling in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked plainly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for half a second before he slipped back into his playful demeanor. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“Shut up,” you giggled. You giggled. “I just want to see how the arm is connected to your torso.”

Without pause, Bucky leaned forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head to let it fall to the floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t consider what he’d look like underneath his clothing, so it took you a second to gather your bearings again. You couldn’t help yourself. How could you not admire the slender lines of his collarbones, the thick layer of muscle covering his chest, the distinct ridges on his abdomen speckled with scars, the very tip of what you could only assume were two tantalizing depressions leading right to —

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked.

Your eyes met his, reluctantly pulling away from what you knew would be the source of your dreams tonight.

“Four, my ass,” you mumbled in fake annoyance, kneeling between his thighs again to get a better look at him. Your fingertips trailed along the smooth line of scarred skin bordering the harsh metal of his arm. It took all your willpower to focus on work instead of the heat his body was radiating being so close to each other. “Was this how, you know, they put your arm on?”

Bucky shook his head, his expression growing sullen at the indirect mention of his tormentors. “They just kind of dug away at it. The Wakandans actually cut away a bit more of my skin to allow for healthier healing.”

You could tell it was carefully done, judging by the faint discoloring and thin ridge alongside the metal, as opposed to angry red lines that protruded out like the photos Shuri sent.

“Does this area hurt?” You pressed your hand flat to the scar; Bucky had to try to reign in his heartbeat. You had leaned in close to see his arm, leaving you close enough for him to just dip his head down and —

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you whipped your heads to the side to see a very confused — and slightly annoyed — Tony standing in the entrance to the common room, clearly just passing by and stumbling on a somewhat compromising situation: his daughter on her knees between a shirtless Winter Soldier’s thighs.

Without taking your eyes off your father, you reached around on the coffee table and grabbed your notebook.

“Research! I promise!”

“Research that couldn’t happen in your designated lab?” You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but had to keep it to himself for now to avoid telling Bucky who you really were.

“I had to open the compartment in his tricep area and didn’t want to make him lie down on the lab tables for three hours.” The accusatory glare from your dad made you shrink into yourself, your voice growing quieter as you spoke. Fridays were family dinner night, and you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, still eyeing you and Bucky suspiciously. “And why did he need to be half naked for that?”

“Da — Tony,” you said, barely catching yourself. “I mean, Mr. Stark. I was examining the scar tissue and spinal connection to determine how to enhance the sensory receptors currently embedded in the vibranium.”

Tony’s eyes flitted between you and Bucky. Your eyes were wide, clearly nervous as he grilled you. Bucky, on the other hand, was flushed pink and leaning a little too close for Tony’s comfort.

“Keep this PG from now on, okay? And no working outside of the lab. This is Stark Tower, not Bezos Tower. We’re not gonna work you to the bone.” He started to walk away before stepping back and adding, “No fraternizing with coworkers, remember?”

With a quick nod, you stood abruptly and gathered your things to take it back to your lab for the night. Bucky was quick to slip his shirt back on and followed you with his head down to avoid the burning gaze of your father — or as far as he knew, his boss.

You didn’t expect Bucky to go back to your lab with you, but part of you was glad he did. Being around him brought you a sense of calm and comfort, even after what just happened. If he had just walked away, you’d assume the worst: that an accusation like that was far from what he wanted to hear.

You set all your things back on your table to start putting them away when Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. You spared a quick glance at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he chose his words carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused on how that situation was somehow his fault.

“Tony… he doesn’t really like me much.”

“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “But that was way more of a me-problem than a you-problem. We’ll just have to work in here from now on.” You shrugged and went back to putting your tools in their respective drawers.

Bucky still stood right inside the doorway, the door shut behind him so no one outside could hear you two. He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to force himself to follow through with at least mentioning what he planned on asking you.

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted to get dinner together sometime until Tony gave us that speech,” he chuckled.

You slid the final drawer shut and turned to Bucky. You knew you two were getting closer and you couldn’t deny feeling an attraction to him, but you never expected him to feel that same pull. The thought made you smile back at him while he cracked his knuckles, most likely from nerves. What happened to that fun and flirty attitude he had just a few minutes ago?

Your grandma always said to never date a man who wasn’t nervous about asking you out...

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” you said quietly.

His eyes stopped darting around the room to find your gaze. You stepped closer, taking slow steps as you crossed the room to him until you were toe to toe. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until you held your phone out to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” you said with a small smirk.

His lips curled into a small smile as he snatched your phone and entered his number.

“I’ll text you my address. Does tomorrow night work?” you asked, unintentionally biting your lip but not missing the way Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Buck.” You took a bit of a risk and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, his face immediately flushing red. Your own cheeks grew warm when you stepped back, tossing Bucky a quick wave as you turned back around and hoping he’d leave before you started screaming.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x Stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky barnes fanfic

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laedback-taurus · 3 years

Text

Waiting - Come Home Part 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: none Word Count: 1359 A/n: Thank you so much for over 300 notes on my last story! Requests are open! -Part 1

Seeing Bucky again was something had only ever dreamed of and now it was real…but it wasn’t your Bucky. Something had happened to him, someone had hurt him, you could see it in his eyes. His eyes…they looked nothing like they did the last time you saw them, they used to be bright and full of love for you but now all they held was pain and torment. After your altercation with the Winter Soldier where you broke a few ribs, you had been benched, which meant you couldn’t do anything to find him. While you were in recovery Steve had fought him again, explaining to you that he still didn’t remember anything, but he wasn’t going to give up.

“I’m going to bring him back to you Y/n” Steve promised.

“I’m going with you” you stated, choosing to ignore the consistent pain still present in your ribs.

“No, you’re not, you need to rest” Steve protested, putting his hands on your shoulders. “He doesn’t remember you, therefore he won’t hesitate to attack you, he’d kill me if I let him hurt you…it would kill him”.

“okay” you sighed, knowing he was right if Bucky hurt you, he would never forgive himself.

“I’ll do everything to bring him back”.

---

It had been a few hours since you had heard from Steve, the last thing he told you was that he had found Bucky, but they got caught and sometime after, the Winter Soldier had been reactivated.

“He attacked a few people and attempted to escape but I got him” He explained to you over the phone.

“Is he okay?” you asked, worried about not only Bucky but anyone he might have hurt.

“He’s passed out at the moment, has been for a while- “

“Cap!” He was cut off by Sam calling out to him.

“I have to go, I’ll be in touch soon” He hung up, leaving you to continue to worry that you would never get your Bucky back.

---

Steve jogged into the room where Bucky sat, his metal arm pinned down in a clamp.

“Steve” He spoke with a groan.

“which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asked.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah” silence followed “You used to wear newspaper in your shoes” He chuckled.

“Can’t read that in a museum” Steve smiled.

“just like that we’re suppose to be cool?” Sam asked, not buying it.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, dreading the answer.

“Enough”

“Y/n is she- “

“She wasn’t there” Steve stated. Bucky let out a sigh of relief, glad that your somewhere safe, far away from him. “She’ll want to see you now that you remember”.

“No” Bucky answered quickly “not while everything that hydra put in my head is still there, I can’t risk her safety”.

“You won’t hurt her Buck” Steve tried to reason.

“I don’t know that. Until I know it’s safe…I can’t see her” He looked down, hating that he had to say that. All he wanted to do was hold you again, but he could not risk hurting his girl.

“At least talk to her” Steve offered.

“How?” Bucky asked, looking up at his friend. Steve just held up his phone with a smile.

---

You had been sitting on your bed, staring out your window mindlessly, reminiscing on the days you had spent with Bucky when you phone lit up beside you, Steve’s name and photo appearing on the screen. You quickly picked it up and answered it, bringing the device to your ear.

“Steve? Is he awake yet? How is he?” You asked quickly, a soft chuckle coming from the other end of the line.

“Hey Doll” You quickly stood at the sound of his voice.

“Bucky?” You asked in a smile voice.

“Yeah, its me” He said softly.

“Do you-do you remember?” You asked hopeful.

“I remember everything Doll” You wanted to burst into tears.

“where are you? I’m coming to see you right now” You stated, beginning to pace your room, thinking of what you’d need to take with you.

“Doll- “

“It may take me a while depending on where you are but I’ll there as soon as I can- “

“Y/n, no” He cut you off, you stopped your pacing.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You can’t see me y/n” He sighed.

“Why not? You finally remember and it’s been so long, I thought you were dead and now you here, but I can’t see you?” He felt like you were going to cry.

“I know Doll…”

“Do you not want to see me?” you whispered.

“Of course, I do, I want nothing more than to hold you again, to kiss you again but I cannot trust myself Y/n, a part of the Winter Soldier is still in me and I don’t want you around me when it is. It hurts like hell to not see you, but it would hurt more if any harm came to you because of me” He confessed.

“I understand just…come back to me” You pleaded.

“Always, Doll”

---

Steve had tried his best to keep you up to date with everything that had been happening, the last thing he told you was that they were both pretty beaten up and that Steve was taking Bucky to Wakanda. He said that they could help Bucky free himself from the Winter Soldier and that if you wanted to see him before he was put under again you could meet them there, so that’s exactly what you did. You were currently being escorted to where Steve and Bucky were waiting for you, your nerves were on overdrive the closer you got to him. Sure, you had seen him that day on the bridge but that was different, soon you were going to see your Bucky again for the first time in years. You felt like you did on the night of your first date, you were waiting for Bucky to pick you up, playing with the ends of your dress nervously, worrying that your dress wasn’t nice enough to be wearing on a date with James Barnes. Little did you know that dress became Bucky’s favourite. You soon reached a doorway and just inside it was Bucky, he spotted you as soon as you appeared in the entrance, smiling at your presence.

“Hey Doll” as soon as he spoke you collided with him, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head in his chest.

“I can’t believe you’re here” You whispered. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer and resting his chin on top of your head, taking in your scent that he didn’t realise he missed so much.

---

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asked Bucky as he was getting the last of his checks done.

“I can’t trust my own mind” Bucky admitted, looking at you briefly. He knew that you weren’t taking this well, you had just gotten him back and now he had to leave you again. The two of you had spent the night together, talking, reminiscing, catching up…in more ways than one and just holding each other, trying to spend as much time with each other as possible.

“So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing” He looked at you “For everybody”.

It was time for him to move to the chamber, as soon as he stood up you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to give him one last kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, deepening the kiss and pouring all his love and admiration into it, praying it wouldn’t be the last one you shared. You pulled away and looked up at him.

“I’ll be here when you wake up” You promise him, making him smile. He kissed your forehead softly before moving to the chamber. Once he was all strapped in, they began the process.

“I’ll be waiting for you” You told him.

“I know you will be Doll”.

And just like that you were alone again, hopefully for not as long this time.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #marvel #avengers x reader #avengers

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

Text

IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

brunch // steve rogers

↳ request: oh requests are open? can I get a possesive stevie with a soft bratty spoiled reader? i'm sorry I'm such a hoe @donutloverxo

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: i am a whore in a woman’s shoes and that is all

you’ve got plans this morning. it’s rare for you to be the one vying to get out of bed but you’d promised bucky last week that you’d meet him for brunch today, and since it’s his first time going, you want this experience to be a lot of fun for him.

(tony offered, but you knew that it would be a dire mistake if you left the genius billionaire in charge of it because he would’ve scared the poor man off)

regardless, you’re proud of bucky - he’s finally growing into his hollow shell, making it a point to go out of his comfort zone and broaden his horizons.

so you’ll be damned if the sleepy - but still so strong? - supersoldier curled against your body with his arms wound tightly around your waist will stop his girlfriend from showing his best friend a really good time.

(now that you really take it into consideration, that doesn’t sound quite right)

but you don’t care because steve’s being selfish and while any other time it would make you undeniably aroused, this is bucky and you don’t want to disappoint him. you hate that kicked puppy look in his steel-blue eyes, one that you recognize all too well because it’s the same look that you use to guilt-trip your stevie.

“steve, i gotta go get ready,” you murmur, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. he’s still hiding those baby blues from you, long eyelashes resting light against his skin.

you watch in mild amusement as his eyebrows knit together and he pushes out his full lips into a tiny little pout. it almost makes you want to coo at him.

faster than you can comprehend, he’s flipped you around so that his chin is resting on your shoulder. he presses his lips to the bare skin of your shoulder and then settles back down behind you, evidently with no intention of moving.

“no, baby,” he grumbles, the sound reverberating in his chest and, by extension, the column of your spine. a shockwave of pleasure runs through you at the feeling, your cunt clenching completely shamelessly because his voice in the morning is by far the most sinful thing that you’ve ever heard TM.

it sounds like sandpaper, warm and rich and grating against the sharp edges of your stubbornness and sanding it down bit by bit until there’s nothing but smooth corners and round sides.

you don’t have to turn around to know that the ghost of a smug little smirk is etched onto his face when he feels you shiver against the hard planes of his body.

“you like that, hmm, doll?” he speaks again, lips right against your ear and the register of his voice somehow even lower than before. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”

“stevie,” you whine petulantly, your core throbbing again because he knows exactly what he’s doing and it’s not fair.

“tell you what, honey,” one of his hands leaves your waist to trail up and down your leg, the featherlight touches making your sensitive skin burn under his fingers. “you stay with me and i’ll speak to you like this all,” he draws out the word as his teeth catch on your earlobe, “you want, hmm?”

there he goes with the sandpaper again, patiently working away and getting almost embarrassingly close to wearing you down completely. yet something about the sultry drawl of his brooklyn accent makes you snap out of it because you’re supposed to be meeting bucky-

so you take advantage of his slack hands and wiggle out of his hold, jumping out of your shared bed and making a beeline toward the bathroom.

(you don’t dare look over your shoulder in fear of the rage that you know will be written all over his handsome face, so you only throw a sorry, daddy! at him before locking the door)

and when you step out in the outfit that you’d left in there last night, steve’s hazy blue eyes clear of their tired fog and become as bright as the sun shining through the slit between your drawn curtains. he stretches his arms out - you can’t help but stare at the muscles rippling underneath his skin - before resting them behind his head.

his feigned nonchalance is almost entirely transparent; his eyes staying glued to your body while you fiddle with the silk ties on your top and the way that he runs his tongue over his lower lip doesn’t go unnoticed despite the fact that you’re slightly preoccupied.

“where’re you goin’ anyway, sweetheart?” his gaze roams downwards, lingering on the light and breezy material of your pink skirt.

“brunch,” you reply softly, not even sparing him a glance because why did you buy this shirt if you have no idea how to fucking put it on.

“right - with nat?” he says, squinting when he sees the stretches of exposed skin on your legs. his hand snakes underneath the covers and you’re fighting the upwards quirk of your lips as he so obviously palms at his erection.

“no, with bucky,” you throw out carelessly, proud of yourself because you’ve finally managed to wrap the white blouse around your body, tying the back into a bow. as you look up, you lift an eyebrow at the amount of unexpected cleavage it shows

(but you’re not complaining because it looks so pretty)

your reflection makes you notice that you’re missing earrings and a necklace still, and some rings or something wouldn’t hurt…

what you’ve failed to notice is how heavy the silence in the room has gotten, the tension almost visible between the two of you. it’s when you retrieve your silver hoops that you realize that steve has gone awfully quiet, and you’re in the middle of putting the second one on when you meet his stare in the mirror.

he’s now sitting up more than before, still slouching lazily while he watches you in a way that you can only describe as predatory. where steve’s eyes are usually the purest baby blue in the mornings, they’re now far past blueberries and into the territory of being the color of the hudson at night.

it makes your eyes double in size as you watch him, his hand continuing to rub at his cock through the thin material of his boxers.

(the sight alone is ruining your new thong and you don’t even have the heart to be mad about it)

“bucky, huh?” is all he says, pulling his lower lip between his teeth briefly.

“yeah,” your voice is quiet but you know that he can hear it perfectly well. you also know that he can probably smell your arousal from where he’s sitting, a fact that doesn’t make you as embarrassed as you maybe should be. “told you last week.”

“must’ve forgotten,” he brushes you off dismissively, blatantly staring at the curve of your ass. “you always get dressed up this pretty for buck, baby?”

“no,” your response is shaky and you still haven’t turned around yet, continuing your conversation entirely with the reflection of your boyfriend sprawled out on the bed behind you.

you decide that he looks like something out of a playgirl magazine and you love it.

“you tryna impress bucky, sweetheart?” he probes with a jerk of his head, one of the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “wanna dress all pretty and go be bucky’s little slut, hmm, baby? what happened to daddy?”

this makes you audibly choke

(you can’t help but think that you’d like to choke on only one thing right now)

but steve pushes on like he never heard you.

“i thought you were daddy’s good baby. now you wanna be a little whore for daddy’s best friend? is that it, honey? leavin’ daddy here alone to go be a dirty fuckin’ slut for bucky? daddy was gonna let you ride his cock, baby, but maybe you should go ride bucky’s instead.”

you can’t deny the way that his condescending voice makes you grip onto your dresser for dear life, your legs threatening to give out underneath you as your skin overheats with desire.

but you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next - he’s set it up too perfectly for you.

“maybe I will, daddy.”

you know that he likes it when you mess with him, wind him up so tight that the spring inside his chest is in danger of popping off at any second. it gives him an excuse to fuck you into his mattress with your hands tied behind your back as you beg him to let you cum

(not that he needs one)

so when you think about it, the punishment that you’ll get for this is really for the both of you. you’re doing him a favor.

it’s too bad that you can’t say the same about your ass.

what feels like instantaneously, he’s up right behind you, pushing his very obvious erection against your ass.

your waist is trapped between his hands until a hard smack lands on your ass, one that makes you jolt forward so hard that everything neatly lined up on top of your chest of drawers shakes and falls.

you don’t even have the time to gasp before his thick thumb is shoved between your lips, the pad resting on your tongue as he strokes it gently.

“oh, baby,” he tuts, rutting into you harder and faster, his other hand roughly flipping up your skirt at the front to grab your cunt possessively. “my dumb little baby. you need me to remind you who this pussy belongs to? need daddy to tell you who owns your cunt, babydoll?”

his words make you clench in anticipation and the warmth of his hand seeping through the lace of your soaked panties makes your next words come easy.

“yes, daddy.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel blurb #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Bulletproof

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~1.7k

Summary: In which the Captain gets a little too overprotective, but you end up interpreting his words the wrong way and taking it a little too personally.

Warnings: slight mentions of violence, angry steve, soft steve

A/N: this was so bad omg I’m so sorry.

The flight back after a mission was always quiet, whether everything had gone well or not. The team was both physically and mentally drained, falling into a comfortable silence as the Quinjet propelled itself through the sky. This mission in particular had taken a toll on all of you.

You were seated in the far corner of the jet as you glanced over at the screen of the flight details, thigh bandaged and throbbing mildly. While you were able to extract the intel you needed, you'd thrown yourself into the crossfire to do so, being gunned down by a sniper from above. You were lucky enough for it to be just a simple graze, but Steve was treating it as if it was the end of the world.

Of course, you kind of understood where he was coming from. Despite the fact that you had over ten years of experience in the field, you were the youngest member of the team besides Pietro and Wanda, being only two years behind Steve himself. But that didn't stop you from feeling annoyed every time he seemed to act a little too overprotective no matter how many times you claimed you could take care of yourself.

"He's just worried for your safety," Natasha tried to explain when you complained about this one night. "You know how Cap is. A let's-get-down-to-business and always-follow-the-rules type of guy. I wouldn't overthink it if I were you."

You still couldn't help but think that he was overreacting a majority of the time, however. And in this one case in which he'd caught your side comment, it had erupted into a full-on argument.

"The least you could've done was call for backup," he said through gritted teeth. "You went against orders and tried to handle things on your own, and look where that got you."

"Excuse me?" You rolled your eyes. Whenever he made jabs at your decisions like this it made your blood boil with a furious anger; wanting nothing more than to explode at him. "I was successful in doing my job, was I not? And it's not like there were any better options presented to me at that moment."

"That doesn't matter. You could've gotten yourself killed!" he shouted, jaw tensed and arms crossed over his chest as you stared each other down. "How could you have been so stupid, putting your life on the line like that?"

"Stupid?" you scoffed, seething with anger at this point. "If I recall, I was the one who got the intel from the controls room and shut the system down!"

"And you got shot as you were leaving because you didn't keep a good enough lookout of your surroundings. You put the entire team into jeopardy," he told you matter-of-factly. The words stung, but you did your best to remain calm despite being unable to believe he had the nerve to say something like that. "You almost ruined this mission."

The team sat in stunned silence as they watched the screaming match unfold between you two.

"I'm sorry, but you know what, Rogers?" you spat, voice now raised several notches, "Maybe I'm sorry for pissing you off, but there's no way I'm gonna keep putting up with you constantly criticizing me for every little thing I do. We all make mistakes, so I don't get why I'm the only one who gets shit on for making a slip up every. Single. Damn. Time! I'm sick of you ordering me around like you're my boss, because you aren't."

"I'm trying to do what's best for both of us!" Steve yelled. "You just can't seem to get that through your head, can you?"

"Don't need to act like such an asshole about it."

"You know, I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? Because one of those things is going to be the death of you someday," he shot back, his harsh words feeling like a spear being thrust through your chest. "And I won't take any credit for it, because it'll be all on you."

You refused to look away, even as your lower lip trembled and your shoulders shook, unwilling to back down. Your lashes brimmed heavy with tears, hands clenched into shaking fists in a desperate last bid to keep it together.

"Okay, cut it out," Tony finally interrupted, Wanda pulling you away from Steve as the murderous look in your eyes told her you were ready to throw hands. "You need to stop bickering like a married couple all the time."

"Tell that to the self-righteous egotistical man who thinks he's always in charge," you muttered.

"To the ignorant woman who's always throwing herself into the crossfire without considering how it might affect the overall completion of the mission," Steve shot back.

"You little—"

"Y/N," Wanda placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, "stop. It's not worth arguing over."

You winced as she helped you sit down, the pain from your wound beginning to catch up to you after standing on your injured leg for too long.

The rest of the flight was spent in silence, with you and Steve refusing to look in each others' direction entirely.

...

As soon as the jet touched down back at HQs, you quickly changed and went straight to the gym. After wrapping protective tape around your palms, you went up to one of the punching bags and began attacking the hell out of it, imagining it as Steve's face making it easier and seeming to further fuel your anger.

You went at this for an hour, pushing yourself to the max, refusing to give your screaming and aching limbs a break. Your muscles contracted and your arms and legs felt like they'd fall off at any minute but you continued going nonetheless, the aching pains that feeling like a million tiny needles stabbing at every inch of your body. Training was probably the worst thing to do for your leg, but the bullet wound was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? Because one of those things is going to be the death of you someday.

You put the entire team into jeopardy.

You almost ruined this mission.

You punched the bag harder, feeling your knuckles cracking and blood running down your fingers, fresh bruises beginning to form underneath. Steve had never been this harsh towards you before, and you started wondering if he really was right about the fact that you almost ruined everything.

Yet you still didn't understand why he had to be so overprotective all the time.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't be training, or else that leg won't recover."

At the sound of his voice all his words came flooding back. Your heart began racing and your blood boiled as you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him.

"Leave me the hell alone."

Steve ignored your words and took several steps forward, stopping just a few feet away from where you stood.

"You're bleeding," he said in a surprisingly soft voice.

"I'm fine," you snapped. "Now go away."

"Come on, just—" he pleaded, voice sounding broken, "just let me bandage your hands up for you."

Knowing he wasn't going to leave, you slid down against the wall and let out a defeated sigh, allowing him to kneel in front of you and take your hands in his. The feeling of his rough, callused skin against yours despite the frustration coursing through your veins still sent a little spark up your fingers, and you never hated yourself more for it than you did now.

You briefly scanned over his features, taking note of his tired and red eyes and the crease between his eyebrows as he carefully disinfected your wounds.

"Y/N," he finally spoke up after several minutes of silence, as he finished bandaging up your hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

"Okay." You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing you would break down the second you looked back up into his bright blue eyes.

"Y/N," his voice broke, the sound making your heart twist in your chest. "Please look at me, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart," you muttered. "I'm so sorry," he repeated again, "I don't think you're stupid and that you jeopardized the team. You saved us all, in fact. I really shouldn't have said any of that to begin with."

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the salty tears roll down your cheeks and into your mouth, and you choked on a sob as you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, breaking down.

"Then why did you act the way you did?"

"It was wrong of me," he exhaled, "I...look, I'm just worried about you, because if that extraction did go wrong and something happened to you, I'd feel like it was all on me. I'd feel like it was my fault, because I failed to look out for you. And I don't think I can handle being responsible for your death."

"As much as you hurt me," you said as you stood up and were pulled into his arms, voice muffled by the fabric of his T-shirt, "I could never bring myself to actually hate you."

"I just care about you too much, I can't lose you," he murmured into your hair, arms tightening their grip around your waist. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you mumbled, voice muffled by his T-shirt, "I forgive you."

"I love you," he whispered so quietly that he thought you wouldn't catch what he was saying, but you just barely managed to hear it. But honestly, he didn't care. You couldn't help the smile forming on your face at that moment. "I love you too."

"Oh my god, that tension was fucking killing me," Bucky groaned as the doors to the gym burst open, and he and Sam came inside. "I was about to explode if you guys didn't kiss and make up." "Oh uh, also, Y/N, your leg..." Sam pointed out. You and Steve both looked down to see blood seeping through the thick bandaging wrapped around your thigh.

"Well, shit," you choked out. "Oops."

"Language," Steve joked. "Come on. Let's go to Bruce so we can get that treated."

"Don't have too much fun with each other!" the two men called after you.

"Shut up!" you shouted back.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic

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freddiefcknmercury · 3 years

Text

A Promise(part 2)- Crimson & Clover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader(Black coded/Genderless)

Word Count: 2.7+

Warnings/Disclaimer: SMUT. ANGST. cursing. mild depression/heart-ache. etc etc. if something needs to be tagged please lemme know.

A/N: LOL I'm back on my bullshit yall. heavy angst/depression from the previous Steve centered storyline so if you haven't read "You really think I didn't know?" I'll do some magic linky links here and at the bottom just in case. Also I'm trying something kinda different with the way I post the fics so feedback is welcome.

ALSO this one comes with a tiny playlist! there are Bolded lyrics throughout if you want to get a deeper sense of where I was emotionally writing this and where reader is as well you can Def give these songs a listen, they are in order of appearance:

Crimson & Clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

Every Time I Breathe- Arlissa

Navy Blue - Hasani

Summary: Bucky takes an extended leave for "work" related reasons and reader slips back into some dark places in his absence...

~*As always, be Nice to me I’m Delicate*~

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He said he might be gone most of the week. Sam called the day before and all you know is it's something important. He didn't go into detail, just packed a bag and you'd never seen him do that before. But he was also only gone a day or two at a time and never felt the need to tell you about it before now either.

Up until recently you'd tip-toe around each other. Not like you used to with Steve though, worse. Bucky is a lot better at making sure you don't know he's there until it's too late. It felt like you'd never get used to each other, or more likely that you'd never want to. You might've still been secretly hoping that he'd stop caring and go away... after a while you got tired of your own bullshit and realized he's giving off that vibe on purpose. Wordlessly telling you how you should feel about him, not wanting to get too close. You never much liked being told what to do.

It was only about two months before you became a Barnes' expert. You'd sit up at night listening intently for when he'd shower, get in bed, or wake up. He never slept more than five maybe six hours at a time, you'll never understand how he can function like that. You know how he likes his coffee, which angle he holds his cup. How and where he takes off his shoes, how much ice he puts in a drink, the way he likes to cut his toast, and what time he has to do all of it. There's an almost unnerving pattern to him, one that's always been there and you were just unwilling to notice for so long, and you're not sure if he's even aware of it.

You woke up to him already gone. You knew he was leaving but actually being left alone like that unsettled you more than you anticipated, a serious case of Deja vu. You went into your routine like normal, because everything still was, but by the fifth day... you stepped into the front room and got that empty feeling. One you hadn't really had since...

It stopped you for a few seconds longer than you liked and a large knot formed in your stomach. You spent the whole day trying to ignore the feeling but it only got worse. Like a hunger pain but much more vague, crawling through each muscle. You'd catch yourself staring at his room, Bucky's room but also... Steve's. It's the first time you let yourself admit to him fully crossing your mind in over a year.

You laid up in bed, trying to count the metaphorical sheep to no avail. Getting up thinking that a snack or a warm drink will stop the restlessness, you pause in the tiny hallway shared by your bedrooms. The low blue light from the moon outside dustily illuminating the space through a cloudy bathroom window. You stare at the door like any second he's going to ask what you're doing up so late and you can tell him to mind his own business while pouring two cups of tea.

You just wanted to touch the knob; turn it to make sure it still works- that you're still "allowed in there if you want". But stepping inside was too far, an invasion of Bucky's privacy, and you felt it. But you couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.

They were definitely cut from the same cloth. Sparse furnishings and no decorations, save a few very small trinkets he'd held onto from who knows where. There is exactly one row on his bookshelf filled with composition notebooks that were beat to hell and back. Sticky notes lined the edge of most of the pages, so much so that they easily could've been mistaken for feathers on a quick glance. You dare not touch them. Observing someone with a past that checkered is very different to reading into the things they deem worthy of physically writing down.

Where Steve used to leave small drawings and notes Bucky left half empty ink pens and a few well used pairs of gloves. You saunter to the far corner of the room and caress a worn leather jacket hanging precariously on the lowest peg of a coat rack. Doing a slow sweep of the space something in the otherwise barren closet catches your eye. The knot in your stomach that had almost disappeared was back and it brought friends. Your shirt. His shirt. The big one that said BROOKLYN across the front, what you didn't know was your "going away gift." The one you balled up and shoved in the top corner of his closet, at the time hoping you'd never look at it again. You're amazed that it's still here, that Bucky hadn't tossed it out or tried to give it back to you when he moved in.

So you put it on. You're still not sure why but you needed to wear it. To feel it drape over your skin, enveloping you in warmth and that beautiful clean familiar scent you... loved once. It sent a shiver down your spine. The knots in your stomach were gone but now there's one in your throat. You can feel the tears seated right behind your eyes. You sit on the bed holding your face pleading with the water to stay put but it's too late. You miss him. You hate to admit it, but it's true and it always has been. You're angry and you should be, you loved him- you thought he might've loved you. Pulling the hem of the shirt up you wipe the tears off your face and fall into a pillow, trying to calm yourself out of your rage unintentionally drifting into sleep.

*****************************************************

You wake up to the sound of music in the kitchen.

...Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

You sit up quickly checking your phone: 11:34am. You'd fallen asleep in Bucky's room, in his bed. A blanket had been placed over you and a short scan of the room returned a brown leather duffel bag and set of black boots that weren't present last night. He'd come back early this morning and found you here. You can feel your heart fall straight out of your ass, the void that was left being filled with pure embarrassment. Is he angry? He did tuck you in...

As slowly and quietly as possible you make your way towards the door, poking your head out just enough to assess the situation. You can see his back in the kitchen, he's hovering over the sink. You notice the couch, the spare blanket and pillow from the bathroom closet folded neatly on one of the arm rests, he had to sleep there. The void gets deeper. You pull the door open just enough to slip out of and there's a quiet creak. Steve never did fix that, and you just figured out why.

Bucky didn't turn around but definitely noticed. He steps to the side, now in front of the stove and you here something crack and sizzle. You're not sure what to do here. You can try to apologies and explain but there's no un-embarrassing way out of this one. You fold your arms over your stomach trying to hold all your very delicate pieces together while you attempt to speak up. Finally reaching the bar and fully prepared to say good morning when he quickly sets a hot bowl down in front of you. White rice and a fried egg- runny yolk. You'd make it for breakfast when you'd get up early or couldn't sleep, a friend from school put you on to it. Looks like he's been studying you too. You make eye contact but, just briefly. From what little of the expression you get on his face nothing indicates that he's mad. But he hasn't said anything to the contrary either.

How was your trip? Dangerous I bet-sorry you couldn't come home and sleep in your own goddamn bed! Oh?! AND you made me breakfast!

You feel like a crazy person.

"Comfy last night?"

He's pouring himself some coffee, not yet turning your way. There's no hostility in his voice.

You chuckle nervously.

"Yeah.. sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

He sets a small glass of juice down in front of you. Heavy eye contact this time, but his expression is soft. He didn't ask for an explanation and you really didn't want to give him one. But you still feel guilt looming over you. You take the glass in both hands and nurse it.

He nods at you with a squint, taking a big sip of coffee.

"If I knew that was yours I would've given it back."

The shirt. You forgot you actually put it on. You hold your breath stroking the fabric gently. Contemplating your next words.

"It's not- well, not really."

He raises an eyebrow.

"It was a gift, so I guess it does belong to me..."

Glancing back down at it you can see him realize it says "Brooklyn." His expression changes to a knowing one and it reads like regret but he quickly tries to box it back up for you. This is a new move for him.

There's a much longer pause in conversation than either of you would like before he shifts his weight awkwardly.

"Sorry."

You push glass, now empty back across the bar towards him.

"Don't worry about it-"

You swivel in your seat quickly, taking your bowl and getting up to leave. He steps out from the kitchen after you.

"Thanks for breakfast."

The tears had been welling up and started to pour over as you left. You're still in no state to pretend to be a functioning person right now. Trying to save him from your ugly cry face by escaping but he grabs your shoulder gently suggesting you backwards.

You cover your mouth to hush a sob. You can see your chest start heave but there's nothing you can do to stop yourself. He grabs the bowl setting it down carefully, then you feel a warm metal sensation squeezing the back of your neck.

"You don't have to be over it."

He's been back a couple hours and already knows you're still a mess. You scoff, laughing at yourself really.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing."

He whispered back quickly, exasperated, but tender.

You sniffle; pathetic.

"That's not how it feels."

"He fucked up. He just doesn't know it."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his embrace.

It's nice to feel another person. A real solid human being; you can't remember the last time you hugged someone like this. You turn in his arms to face him. He looks tired. Not just 'had-to-sleep-on-an-old-couch' tired. Emotionally repressed. Maybe he has actually wanted to talk to you. He pulls you into him, it's just a hug but it almost hurt how sweet this was.

Then a thought came to you, not really sure how, you can't handle more rejection right now; but you kissed him anyway, hard. Like him being gone almost killed you- because it did. He pulls away from you, just a little, reading your face his own expressionless. You search his eyes for any kind of hint as to what's going on inside his mind. You're not ready to admit this was a mistake yet. There's no real way to know how long you stood there like that. You only dare to move after you hear the song change in the background.

Words... thought they just fade away

but hurt... gave them a place to stay

"Do something."

You were sure it was just in your head but it creaked out past your lips in less than a whisper, pleading with him.

He covered your mouth with his, smoothing both hands down your neck to your shoulders gripping them gently, intently. You cling to his waist almost afraid to explore anywhere else, then slowly drag nails along his back. He pulls you back into him, you want to fuse with the warmth radiating off of his body, he bends and you collide onto the floor with a muffled thud. He cradles your head quickly so you don't get hurt but you wouldn't care at this point.

The way you fit into each other is unnerving, like your bodies weren't meant for anybody else. You both scramble to undress him in between breathy wet kisses and he's... magnificent. He pulls off his shirt and you swiftly run fingers from his neck down each arm. The metal one is warm, this surprises you for some reason. You watch as each "muscle" dances at your touch and you catch a small glimpse of something on his face that resembles insecurity... or fear. He shelves it quickly in response to you bucking your hips up to dismiss your underwear.

He buries his face in your neck, warm breaths ghosting your skin. Hooking his hands behind your knees he hoists your legs up around his waist. He bites down gently and you gasp. It's too much. He's everywhere, all at once. The last person to touch you event remotely close to this was-

"...Steve."

It just came out, you almost didn't notice it. Bucky stops, pulling back and away. He scans you, a pitiful, panting mess on the floor. The most vulnerable you've probably ever been and definitely in front of him. He shakes his head slowly once, chest heaving.

"No."

Knots line your stomach once again. He grabs your wrist to hold your arms in place up above your head and presses his forehead against yours.

"Look at me."

You hold eye contact there for a solid minute, you're sure of it. He leans forward delicately dragging teeth against your ear.

"You're gonna keep saying it until you can't forget."

He drops his hips and lines up with your entrance. You feel a thick wash of euphoria from the pressure, throwing your head back as much as possible given the floor. You roll your hips along to his, cradling each other perfectly.

His eyes didn't leave your face until you both feel your legs begin to tremble.

"Oh Bucky."

The only words you can remember.

You feel every stroke hasten and all his muscles tighten each time his name falls from your lips. He pulls your shirt up to your neck looking to spatter kisses and bite marks across your torso. You futilely dig one set of nails into the floor and the other in his shoulder as he hungrily growls into your stomach, cursing, longing for mercy.

"Fuck."

You pull him back up to your face demanding his tongue. You hear the floorboard creek from the pressure of a metal hand, the flesh one surely bruising your hip by now. There's a deep enduring moan from the back of his throat as he finds his release inside you. You gasp at the sensation and you both pant into each other, nothing but a mess on the floor now.

He presses a long, firm kiss into the bridge of your nose then falls gently on his back beside you. You roll your head up to look at his face, whatever it is he's feeling isn't immediately obvious as he stares up at the ceiling. You shift onto your side placing a light, cautious hand on his chest and he glances over at you, reaching to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

The sky is Navy Blue soon to be baby blue and baby you got nothing but time...

He looks over your face in a deep sigh before retiring his gaze to the ceiling.

"I don't know him... The guy that left you like that."

You watch intently has his jaw clenched, he's never been able to hide that bit very well.

"I don't know what kind of..."

He trails off, clearly upset.

You sigh deeply.

"I was gonna die that night."

He rolls his head back to look at you.

"The day I met him? I had pretty much made up my mind."

You start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Almost reminiscent.

"But he found me in the staircase..."

You hate how subtly he did some things. If you weren't lying next to him. There's no way you'd ever be able to tell his breathing had changed.

"Essentially-"

You pick your head up, chin on his sternum.

"He saved my life."

You state matter of factually. You watch his body relax in a short, bitter way.

He rolls his head over just enough to look you in the eyes. You kiss his chest once tenderly before moving to stand up. You extend a hand down for him to grab.

"That isn't good for your back."

"You really think I didn't know?" Part1

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chubbyreaderwriter · 4 years

Text

Pretending

Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Imagine: Carol is just your mentor when you join the Avengers but when you need someone to pretend to be your girlfriend, she’s only too happy to help you out.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, smut

Masterlist

Ugh, it was that time of year again when your family wanted to meet up with you for Christmas. You didn't hate your family, you loved them. What you hated was their obsession with whether you did or didn't have a partner. Of all the things that they could’ve made you feel shitty about, it was the fact that you were single that they chose to tease you about. Every year, they would joke that you would be single forever and that you would be the last one in the family to get married or have kids.

Just once, you wanted to have a year where nobody picked on you for being single and telling you ways you could improve yourself to get in a relationship. As you were travelling to your parent’s house next week, you had to find someone willing to pretend to be your girlfriend/boyfriend quickly. It was embarrassing to ask but you really didn't want to deal with the ignorance of your family this year.

The only people you had to choose from on such short notice were the other Avengers, which didn't really leave you much choice. Steve thought it was wrong to lie to your parents and didn't think he would be convincing so he was out. You didn't wanna even ask Bucky, knowing it would be a flat out no. Natasha refused even after you promised her so many favours. Clint was married, Tony was with Pepper and was too recognisable, Sam was away on a mission over the holidays, Bruce was now big and green all the time so he was out of the question, Wanda was never around much these days, Peter was far too young and Rhodey just gave you his signature look that meant ‘get your ass away from me before I hit you’. You and Tony were often the ones to receive this look.

When you were supposed to be warming up for a training session with Carol, you were standing still, deep in thought. You looked stressed so Carol walked over to you, “You wanna tell me what’s bothering you?” Shook out of your trance, you let out a deep sigh, “I’m going over to my parent’s house for Christmas this year but they always make fun of me for being single and I asked people to pretend to be my partner for a couple days but nobody would help me and now I have to hear about how lonely I am another year in a row.”

Trying not to look too excited, Carol cleared her throat, “Well I wouldn’t mind being your girlfriend.” You perked up, you hadn't asked Carol because you thought he would just shoot you down quicker than anyone else so you were very surprised when she offered to be your pretend girlfriend, “Really? Are you sure?” Carol smiled and nodded, “Of course.” She was taken aback when you suddenly hugged her but she wasn't complaining, wrapping her arms around you, enjoying the feeling of you in her arms. “Thank you so much! I have to go tell my mom all about my fake girlfriend now.”

Carol watched you leave, a small smile on her face but she couldn't stop the tightening in her chest when you called her your fake girlfriend. She’d do anything to get you to see how much she wanted to be with you but she supposed she was given this opportunity to show you just how good the two of you could be together. She started having feelings for you the moment you stepped into the room and was introduced to her. Ever since the two of you met, she’d been unable to get you out of her mind and at first, she was unsure of what it meant but after a while of you invading her dreams and thoughts, she knew she loved you and wanted you to be hers.

She’d flirted with you but would just laugh, blush and brush it off. Carol supposed you didn't think she was being serious but she didn't know any other way to show you that she was interested in you. But now, it was like her wishes had been heard and fate was finally being kind to her. If nothing else, she would get to know what it was like to be your girlfriend for a few days.

---

Today was the day that the two of you were driving up to your parent’s house for Christmas and you were a little nervous. You were worried that they were going to see straight through the both of you but Carol was only excited. She was glad to be able to have the chance to get to know more about you and get to know your family. You were telling her all about your family so that when she got there, she wasn't completely lost on who everyone was.

When the two of you finally arrived, you got out of the car and grabbed your bags, since the two of you would be staying for a few nights. You knocked on the door and just when it was about to open, Carol grabbed your hand to intertwine your fingers with hers. You turned to her just as your mother opened the door, “(Y/N)! This must be your girlfriend, we haven't heard much about you. Come in, come in”. Your mother stepped to the side to be able to let the two of you through into the house, where all of the others where waiting. It seemed the two of you were the last ones to arrive.

It was almost amusing to see how shocked everyone was to see Carol but knowing that your relationship was all made up, it just made you feel kind of sad. Feeling your mood change, Carol squeezed your hand and gave you a small smile, “It’s nice to meet you all.” You couldn’t believe how confident Carol was being, but then again, if you had done even half of the things she had, you’d have more confidence to spare.

For the whole night, your family was asking the two of you (mainly Carol) a bunch of questions. Mainly how you met and what your relationship was like. You were surprised by how good an actor Carol was being, everything seemed so genuine that you were almost fooled yourself, before you reminded yourself that Carol was just helping you out. You knew she didn't actually like you, or so you thought anyway.

“So, what’s your sex life like?” You heard your perverted cousin whisper in your ear. You blushed, embarrassed by those types of questions, “That’s none of your business.” She rolled her eyes at you, “Oh come on, just tell me. Is she not that good or something?” Carol, who heard everything because of her powers, moved closer to you and wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer to her, “Oh no, I’m very good at pleasing my girl.”

You could feel how hot your face was getting without touching it, hiding your blush by hiding your face against Carol’s shoulder. Although she was ‘pretending’, hearing her say that made you feel a little hot. Your cousin laughed at you for a while before being told to leave you alone by your aunt. It started to get late so everyone went to their designated bedrooms. Usually, you were left to sleep on a couch but now that you had a ‘girlfriend’, you were given one of the spare bedrooms for the both of you to share.

You were looking through your bag, trying to find some pyjamas, and finally decided on a black lace satin cami set since your room was quite warm. You quickly changed while Carol was in the bathroom and you were just finished putting the top on when she came into the room. She froze, toothbrush in hand, and slowly looked you up and down. She was wearing just a loose shirt and a pair of grey sweats. You put one arm over your chest to hold onto your other arm, not realising it pushed your breasts together, “What?” Carol’s mouth never felt so dry, “You look hot.”

You blushed again but didn't say anything, choosing to just get under the covers on the bed. Carol followed you and was a little disappointed when you turned away from her but she smirked as she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you back against her. You felt that feeling in your lower stomach again, this time it was enough to make you press your thighs together. You turned your head to look at her, “What are you doing?” She saw your blush and thought ‘fuck it’ as she turned you onto your back and kissed you passionately.

Your hands immediately went up to cup her face, kissing her back. Carol pulled away to give you air, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that...Fuck, will you be mine for real?” You bit your lip then grinned, “If you kiss me again.” Carol smirked before leaning down and capturing your lips against hers once more. You were enjoying your little make out session when you felt Carol’s hand brush against the waistband of your pyjama shorts and the tips of her fingers slide underneath the fabric.

You gasped, “My parents are in the next room.” The blonde woman chuckled quietly, “Then you’ll have to be quiet then.” Carol’s hand moved further down until she was cupping your pussy. “No panties? Were you hoping for something to happen, babygirl?” Your mouth opened but no words came out, too overwhelmed to speak. Carol’s finger slowly ran up your slit and you bit your lip, spreading your legs a little wider for her.

Carol felt like she was in a dream, seeing you spread out underneath her, touching you. If it was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. Her fingertip found your clit and you gasped before covering your mouth, briefly forgetting about the other people in the house. She rubbed small circles over it and you couldn’t stop squirming on the bed from her touch. “Don’t be a tease.” Carol bit her bottom lip, “I’ll tease you as much as I want darling, you’re mine now.”

As much as it turned you on to hear her say that, you desperately wanted something more from her. As if she read your mind, her other hand came up to life your shirt up over your breasts to expose them. Carol looked up at you as she leaned down to flick her tongue over your nipple, pinching the other with her forefinger and thumb. Your grip tightened over your mouth, finding it difficult to remain quiet when she was teasing you so much.

After she had enough of teasing your breasts, them being covered in a thin layer of Carol’s spit, she grabbed your bottoms and practically ripped the fabric off your body to expose your pussy to her. You hadn't been so vulnerable before someone in a long time but you were surprisingly comfortable with Carol. You didn't feel insecure, but that was probably because she was looking at you like you were the sexiest thing in the galaxy. Which to her, you were.

Carol’s hands spread your thighs open and she lay down with her head in between your legs. Knowing what was about to happen, you couldn't help but become a little excited, swiping your tongue over your lips and reaching your hands down to run through Carol’s short hair. She smirked at you as she swiped her tongue along your slit twice before moving her hand to hold your lips open to be able to flick the tip of her tongue over your clit.

That movement had your back arching off the bed but your hips didn't move because of the firm grip that Carol had on them to hold them down. Your head was thrown back onto the pillows as Carol’s tongue toyed with your sensitive nub. Your thighs jerked every now and then, trying to grind against Carol’s tongue but she kept you pinned down so that you couldn’t move. She wanted you to come from her actions only.

As soon as Carol leaned forward ever so slightly to suck on your clit, you knew it wouldn't be long before you reached your orgasm. You choked on a moan before covering your mouth again, more forcefully this time. Carol moved her hand from your hips to let you grind against her face as she sucked on and flicked her tongue over your clit. Your hands reached down to grip her hair, a signal that you were very close to the edge. You managed to just let out a soft whimper when you finally came, your thighs shaking from your release.

Carol’s tongue licked up all of your cum and she gently kissed up your body, moving your to your face and kissing you. It was weird to taste yourself but you didn't really mind, too pleased to care. Carol smirked at you, “We need to do that again, but next time I want to hear all your little moans for me, princess.” You could only nod as you lay there panting softly, your chest heaving which got Carol’s attention as her eyes kept flickering down to it.

She cupped your cheek and smiled, “If it wasn't clear before, I love you (Y/N),” “I love you too, especially after that.” Carol chuckled before kissing you again. Yep, everything worked out just fine it seemed.

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kenzieam · 3 years

Text

About Last Night - Chapter Two

@jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt @badassbaker @pinknerdpanda @oliviastan17 @mizzzpink

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Lev wakes up the morning after a wild night at the Compound and realizes she hasn’t spent the night alone. The fact that the man unconscious beside her is her most trusted teammate is besides the point, he’s also her best friend and

NOW WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE DO???

*********************************************************************

Okay, this chapter is just shameless angst and self-pity, mixed in with a healthy dose of Lev’s incredible stupidity and my absolute favourite... cliffhangers.

You’ve been warned....

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Too late, sugar. He’s found someone else.

No. NO.

And there’s nothing you can do about it, her mind sneered.

A cold rush went through Lev and it was all she could do to not leap from the table and run.

She was becoming her mother.

She was letting love cloud her mind, dictate her actions.

No. She wouldn’t give in, she was stronger than that, baptized by the blood of the damned, literally.

If asked later how she managed to stay seated at the table and remain semi-functional, Lev wouldn’t be able to say. She’d become talented in hiding her emotions, stonewalling the therapist her father briefly tried sending her to, and disguising the true depths of her rage and sorrow as she grew from a teenager to hot-headed adult, but even she couldn’t kid herself into thinking she was successfully acting tonight.

Conversation continued without her, for if anyone noticed her discomfiture, they kindly chose to ignore it, not bringing up the fact that every single person at the table, with the exception of Bucky, Lev and Lilly, had fully expected and had in reality placed bets with each other on when their two friends would finally wake up to the attraction between them, knowing that something had gone down after the party, but not what.

Bucky’s new woman was questioned relentlessly, the guise friendly inquiry, covert ‘what the fuck, man?’ glances sent Bucky’s way whenever her attention was diverted with answering and he glowered back defiantly, refusing, with the exception of one scorching glance, loaded with too many emotions to sort out, to look at Lev.

And she felt her skin tingle every time he touched Lilly, rested his arm on her shoulders, brushed her cheek or tucked some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. If he was acting he was doing a hell of a job, there seemed to be a genuine draw between them, especially in the way Lilly would gaze at him, like he’d hung the fucking moon and, as soon as it was polite, Lev excused herself, the few bites of dessert she’d managed to choke down sour in her stomach.

Why the hell was she so upset? SHE’D WANTED THIS! SHE’D WANTED TO MAINTAIN DISTANCE, but not like this, anything but this.

And she hadn’t truly wanted distance, not really, not in the deepest parts of her heart. Once the static had cleared in her head, she’d heard the message loud and clear. Love was dangerous, love was terrifying and made fools of us all, but she would have been safe with Bucky. He wouldn’t have hurt her; he wouldn’t have let her fall. He wouldn’t have passed off lust as love and then thrown her away, driving her to insanity in the form of hysterical suicide.

He would have treasured her the way she always secretly wished to be and, at the first offering of that, she’d slashed with razor claws, wounding him perhaps permanently.

She wished for more Mead, but there was none and she instead spent the night cross-legged on the floor of her quarters, headphones secured to her ears, blasting her most angry and rage-filled death metal playlists, hoping to drown out the tears.

She shouldn’t have left her room the next morning, she wasn’t fucking hungry anyway. But she had, and the punishment had been swift and severe. Giggles preceded her arrival in the kitchen and, if she’d been listening instead of continuing to stew, she would have recognized the deep answering chuckles.

There had only been a few times in Lev’s life when she could honestly say she was breathless with shock. The first had been with her mother, slipping and sliding in her lifeblood as the woman screamed and slashed even more at her shredded forearms; the second had been when Lev had awoke disoriented under blinding lights, agony like hellfire crawling through her veins, a multitude of strange, lab-coat wearing men standing dispassionately above her, the sudden and cold realization that she’d been taken and changed, that her issues had blinded her to life’s bigger dangers and she’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, selected by HYDRA for an experimental program due to her lack of family and the extremely large chip on her shoulder and she was never going to be the same.

The third was when she had been discovered by accident and rescued by the team, half-mad in that underground bunker; her shadowy surroundings suddenly lit up and blinding her like the sun, fevered confusion and disorientation, dangerous-looking strangers all around her, their grunts of pain and surprise when she fought their hands, struggled to understand a language she’d not heard in so long. Fear and animal instinct to defend had taken over, her enhanced body too much for all but Steve and Bucky to restrain and her first real memories of freedom from that hellish cell where she’d languished, cold and slowly going insane had been of strong arms, gentle hands stroking her face and tangled hair, masculine spice and a deep, soothing voice, speaking words she no longer recognized but in a tone that calmed her nonetheless.

The forth, and final time was now, when she turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead, like she’d been slapped by the very hand that was currently caressing Lilly’s breast through her half-buttoned shirt, a shirt Lev recognized instantly, even in her shock, as the one she’d bought Bucky months ago because she’d loved how it matched his eyes. Lilly was gasping and mewling, their bodies moving in a sensual, unmistakable rhythm, Bucky’s eyes flaring with heat as they rolled upwards when her lips, hidden by her face tucked into his throat, nibbled in return for his touch and it was devastatingly obvious what they’d spent the night doing, what Lev had probably unintentionally spared herself from hearing all through the dark hours by keeping her headphones on.

What they were still doing.

Lev could smell it on them and there was no way two bodies could twine so close together if they weren’t already connected in the most visceral and primal way possible. His hand fell from Lilly’s breast, but only to drop to her hip, curling around the curve and pulling her closer still, lifting her thigh to hook around his. His eyes raised finally to Lev’s, banked lust making them look like a beast’s eyes, and his jaw clenched, teeth baring as he growled harshly. Lilly moaned as he turned his head to bite at her throat, eyes staying locked on Lev’s almost defiantly, returning the nips with an intensity that made Lilly’s hips roll against his, made her cling even tighter to his body and ratcheting up the sexual heat that was already so thick between them. Seeing Lev seemed to push him to move harder and faster, as if with each heavy thrust of his hips he was snarling at her ‘like what you see? This could have been you.’

Bucky was fucking her against the counter, her ass smacking the edge while he glared coldly over her shoulder, eyes locked with Lev’s, each heavy grunt as he thrust further driving the nail deeper into her heart and something inside her, something that cracked as she’d watched her mother die and had only continued to yawn wider with each successive hit in her life, shattered completely.

************************************************************************************* “So, you’re volunteering to take this mission? The one I haven’t been able to bribe, cajole or threaten anyone else to take on?” Tony raised a brow at Lev, half his attention still directed to a tablet in his hand, feet resting on the edge of his desk, chair tilted back.

“Yes.” Lev waited until Stark reluctantly pulled his eyes from the screen and focussed fully on her. Understanding softened the quizzical lines on his forehead.

“You know, kid… what Barnes is doing, bringing that new girl around-”

“Doesn’t matter, he can fuck whomever he wants.”

“Yeah, but after that party we all figured you two would finally-”

“You know… that shit would have been a little more helpful before all of this. I didn’t realize Bucky felt that way, I didn’t realize I felt that way.”

“Is that why you pushed him away? According to Cap you broke his heart.”

Lev flinched. “I didn’t push him away, okay? I was scared shitless and thought we should stay friends.”

“A man doesn’t look at someone the way Barnes looked at you, if they just want to stay friends.”

And the hits just kept coming. “Again, might have been a little more helpful to me before.”

“Why were you so scared?” Tony changed subjects, tilting his head. “I mean, the Manchurian Candidate isn’t my cup of tea, but he’s never hurt you, even when you were trying so hard to kill all of us in that bunker; if anything, he’d be like a pain in the ass puppy, always loyal and trying to get in your lap.” Understanding dawned. “This have something to do with your parents? You told me their divorce was ugly.”

And then some.

“Nah, their divorce was the standard train wreck, it was what came after; when the guy left her, she uh…. Well, she didn’t take it well.”

Tony arched a brow, waiting patiently and Lev was so tired of holding the weight of her burdened past by herself she gave in and opened her figurative vein.

“When uh…. When the new guy took off, she…. I found her after school one day, blood everywhere and the razor still in her hands. I was trying everything I could to stop the bleeding, to stop her, but all she wanted to do was keep cutting and keep screaming into the phone at the guy, over and over again, ‘is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?’. She… she died in my arms, her last words for him, still yelling at him. I’m not even sure if she knew I was there.”

Tony stared, stunned silent, which was quite a feat for him, and Lev swallowed uncomfortably. She’d not told anyone the whole story, not even her dad or the therapist and she felt her adrenaline beginning to rise as the spectres from her past rattled their chains and threatened to break free again.

“Shit… Lev. You need to talk to someone about that-”

“I need to go on this mission.”

“You need help.”

“The mission.” Lev repeated stubbornly. “Just the mission, Tony, okay? If my mother’s suicide taught me anything, it’s that love is the most dangerous fucking thing out there and if I hadn’t learned it then I sure as fuck did when Bucky showed up with that fucking supermodel. That’s all the help I need. Let me get out of here, clear my head and still be fucking useful as I do it. Please?”

Tony gazed at her, such pain and sympathy in his eyes that Lev was forced to look away, chew hard on her lip to keep from breaking down.

“Okay,” he finally murmured. “I’ll send you out on this one but we’re in on this together, you and me, got it?”

Lev squinted at him, not understanding.

“I’m not going to tell anyone else, but you and I are going to talk, regularly, while you’re out there. I’m keeping an eye on you, kid and when you get back… you gotta talk to someone trained in this, okay? That’s not anything anyone should have to carry alone.”

Lev snorted, trying to disguise how touched she was with more sarcasm. “I’m not carrying it alone; it can haunt your nightmares now too.”

A faint smile, but Tony’s eyes stayed troubled.

“Okay,” Lev conceded. “Now can I go?”

Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I got everything set up, if you’re ready now, let’s go.”

“I’m ready now.”

*********************************************************************************** Lev exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to doodle on the notebook in front of her and closed her eyes until the itch passed, then opened them again, squinting as she peered through the scope mounted in front of her.

Forty-three days now of reconnaissance, observation, stakeout…. Boring.

Although it had been in the back of Lev’s mind as the reason why no one else wanted to take this mission, meaning Tony had been about a day away from volun-telling someone they were going, it hadn’t truly hit her until now how epically draining this was.

She had nothing but time now, to think, to analyze and consider.

The communication was iffy, limited, hence the need for someone to stay here and watch the comings and goings of the suspected HYDRA affiliate; setting up remote surveillance simply wasn’t possible, nor feasible to complete the set-up of without drawing suspicion. And rotating teams wasn’t ideal either, so Lev was stuck here, admittedly exactly where she’d asked to be, and she was getting a lot of thinking done.

She had been wrong to push Bucky away, that thought was clear as crystal now after weeks of distilling in her mind while she observed and noted each movement of her quarry.

Even if she’d genuinely wanted to simply stay friends with him, wrong, she had gone about that completely ass-backwards too. There had been happiness in his eyes that morning, the smile on his face hopeful, and she’d squashed it like a bug, squashed his heart like a bug, according to Steve; no wonder he’d returned her pain so cruelly, so harshly. He’d been open and vulnerable in front of her, thinking they’d turned some corner in their relationship, holding out his heart to her that morning and she’d clumsily slapped it to the floor, stomped on with her curt announcement that the magic that had passed between them the night before was a mistake.

God, did she wish she could go back in time.

She’d slap her past self silly in that bathroom, grab her shoulders and order her to not be so fucking stupid and scared, to be the fucking hero she played at being and take that leap of faith, knowing Bucky had already taken the leap and was waiting to catch her on the other side.

It’s too late now, her inner voice whispered.

“Shut up.” She hissed back.

9:32 am – subject takes out the garbage…

************************************************************************************ “So, how’s it going?” Tony asked from the monitor, head tilted to the side. The connection wasn’t the greatest, static crawling across the screen and pulling at his outline, but his voice came through clearly enough.

“I’m bored.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Dude, why do you think everyone else passed?”

“I know, I know, it’s just…”

“Too much time to think?” Tony offered quietly.

Lev exhaled heavily. “Yeah.”

“I know all about that.” Tony continued softly. Usually at this point he would lead Lev into talking about her issues, not start baring his own demons.

“You too?” Understanding hit her like a truck. “Wait, your parents too, right? I forgot about that.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t walk in on my mother having a psychotic break, but they’re both gone.”

“And Bucky…” she couldn’t finish, shocked that she’d managed to put away this detail and forget it for so long.

“No, The Winter Soldier.” Tony clarified. “I’ve made my peace with that, HYDRA killed my parents, not that lovesick sap I see dragging his sorry ass around the compound all day.”

“Wait, what? Dragging his ass around? He’s got Lilly now.”

“Not anymore. Not sure what happened, but she left a couple weeks ago… not long after you took off, actually.”

“Huh.” Lev pondered this, her confusion deepening. What the hell did that mean? Was it just no fun fucking his girlfriend anymore without Lev standing there watching? “And you just decided to mention it now?”

Tony smiled faintly. “Today’s the first time you’ve even mentioned his name too, kid.”

“Touché…. Wait, you just needed me to stay here and finish the job!”

“Why? Would hearing about Lilly leaving make you want to come back and talk to the guy?” Tony challenged evenly; brow raised.

Shit… it did, didn’t it? That’s exactly what she was steamed about, wasting her time here instead of falling on her knees in front of Bucky and begging for his forgiveness. Still, she hated to let Tony know he was right, he could be such an arrogant prick sometimes. “So. What if it did?”

Tony snorted again, chuckling. “You two, Jesus Christ… Still, I’d appreciate if you could stay a bit longer out there.”

“You owe me, Stark.”

“I do? You volunteered, and now you’re trying to bail? Tough, kid.”

Lev stuck out her tongue, chafing mildly at this responsible adult nonsense.

“Brat,” Tony commented mildly. “Another week, Lev. Please?”

“It’s good to hear you say please.”

“It’ll be even better if you stay there like I asked and then come back and talk to that therapist I set up for you.”

Lev clenched her teeth, debating her response. Knee-jerk told her snarl and tell Tony off, to mind his own business, she’d made all sorts of progress just talking with him, but a deeper part of her knew it was time, she needed to confront and drain this wound, she couldn’t let it’s poison taint her life any further. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t sound so damn happy. I’m paying top dollar to keep the best grief counselor on the East Coast on retainer.”

“Thanks.” Lev injected true appreciation in her tone and his expression softened.

“Brat.” He repeated fondly. “I gotta go, talk to you in a couple of days, alright?”

“Yeah,” Lev replied softly, offering a real smile.

************************************************************************************* Lev tried not to hurry, jostle the pack on her back and maybe make too much noise. Nobody was following her, that much she was sure of, but she’d managed over fifty days of surveillance without being discovered and didn’t want to disrupt her streak. Nearing two months in a depressing tenement in a dying Eastern European town had been all sorts of boring, staring out through faded old curtains to the building across the narrow alley, but she’d managed and now it was time to go home. Tony was waiting, with a quinjet, at a site a dozen miles out and Lev was eager to see the man again.

He’d passed on her messages to the team, for Lev had left so furtively and quickly that she hadn’t told anyone else, not even Steve, and he’d relayed their messages back due to the constraints in their communications, but she was eager to see Stark, hell, anyone, in the flesh again. There was only so many games of Solitaire you could play on a dingy tabletop as you kept one eye on the window and Lev had discovered that limit long ago.

But… Bucky.

She still hadn’t spoken to him.

She’d not told him she was leaving; hell, he probably hadn’t even pulled out of Lilly yet by the time she was heading for the jet and there’d been no message from him in the ones Stark had relayed, not that Lev had expected any.

He probably hoped she didn’t come back, and a part of Lev was tempted. But no, she was a part of the Avengers, whether he liked it or not, and she could function as a member of said team even if she no longer had any meaningful contact with the Winter Soldier again. She’d have to figure out a new strategy for when her nightmares tore her from sleep and there would be no more Bucky to save her, as well as what she was going to do now when his nightmares echoed down the halls and she wanted to run to comfort him, but that could be solved easily enough. She could switch floors, sleep with earplugs or just plain gut it out, go cold turkey until the impulses faded, until Steve or Sam or, most likely, nobody’s presence took the place of comfort and support when their mutual nightmares grew to be too much in the dark.

But she’d miss the softness of his voice in the dark as her heart raced, miss the gentle way his hand would stroke across her forehead, thumb rubbing at her cheekbone; his bright, earnest eyes locked on hers as he talked her down, helped her match her gasping breaths to his steady ones.

She’d miss the way he’d cling to her when he was trapped in his own hells. The faint tremble in his massive frame that would start to cease, begin to relax as soon as he sensed her touch, the way his arms would band around her and hold her close, his body wrapped around hers like a shield but his face buried in her neck like a child’s while he grounded himself again. The way he’d murmur her name over and over again like a mantra, soothing himself back to sleep or, more likely, to the faint drowsy, dreamy, pillow talk stage, laying next to each other for hours as night died, talking about everything and anything that seemed too fragile to hold up and not shrivel under day’s harsh glare.

How had she thrown all that away? How had she not seen what everyone else apparently had? Actual physical love and sex had been about the last boundary they’d had, they’d been intimate and close in every other way possible and yet Lev had deluded herself into thinking, no… into telling herself stubbornly, that it was only friendship, that the way she’d sometimes catch Bucky gazing at her were nothing, only projections of the way she sometimes would watch him.

What a fucking idiot.

Christ, she was going to take a hellacious long bath when she got back to the Compound and compose a doozy of an apology to match her depths of remorse.

She glanced at her GPS, saw the jet was mere dozens of feet away now, in a clearing so well hidden she, even so close, still couldn’t see and picked up her pace. Hopefully, Tony brought some of those Cow Tales caramels she was such a whore for like she’d asked.

Pushing through the last break of trees, Lev paused, just admiring for a moment the stark (tee hee) splendour of the sleek jet amidst the woods. With a muted hiss, the ramp descended, and Lev turned her attention to the pilot.

“Tony-” her voice died in her throat.

#bucky #bucky barne #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #au bucky #au bucky barnes #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes angst #bucky and lev #bucky and levi #bucky barnes drama #bucky barnes romance #bucky the morning after #bucky mixed signals

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loveforpreserumsteve · 3 years

Text

Those Who Fall: "APTF" Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Epilogue:

A frantic banging on his and Bucky's bedroom door was what woke Steve up. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he moved to climb out of bed. And while he pulled a pair of pajama pants on over his boxer briefs, Bucky was already at the door, with his hand on the baseball bat behind it. Even months after the locks had been changed and the security system was updated they were all still paranoid. But especially Bucky and Steve.

When they saw it was Jonas, both men eased because at least they -- and their children -- weren't in danger. However, just because they weren't in danger didn't mean that everything was okay, so Bucky asked, "What's wrong?"

"Wanda's in labor," Jonas answered, out of breath seeing as he probably sprinted down two floors to get to them.

Instead of giving their oldest a snide comment about how this was why he shouldn't vape, Bucky nodded, "Okay." Turning back to look at Steve, he suggested, "You get the van ready, I'll help Wanda and Vis."

Over the months, they had planned this out as best as they could. Steve pulled on a shirt and Jonas said, "I already got the yoga ball."

"The bags are already in the van," Steve added, making sure he had his wallet.

At the top of the stairs, Bucky tossed the keys down, "I'll call the hospital to let them know we're on our way."

Nodding, Steve turned, keys in hand, for the garage. Immediately hopping in behind the steering wheel of the van and opening the garage door. Turning the lights on, Steve's drowsy mind realized that Jonas's snow-covered older minivan was parked directly behind him.

Cursing under his breath in annoyance, Steve climbed out of the van and quickly made his way for the main level of the house. Only, before he could even step on the first step, Vis was helping Wanda down the staircase. All the while, she practiced her Lamaze breathing, and Steve tried to do some as well to help calm himself down.

"Is Joni back upstairs?" Steve asked, standing off to the side of the staircase and out of their way.

"He's in the living room," Bucky confirmed. "Why?"

"His van is blocking me in," Steve relayed.

Groaning in pain, Wanda doubled over. Holding her full-term abdomen, she loudly cursed. Bucky hovered behind her to make sure she didn't fall down the rest of the steps while Vis comfortingly rubbed her arm.

"Get off!" Wanda swatted away Vis's hand, "I don't want to be touched!"

"Sorry," Vis apologized, but still helped her down the stairs once the contraction passed. Assuring, "Let's get you to the van."

With the mention of the van, Bucky sprinted back up the stairs to get Jonas's keys. Vis reached the landing and assisted Wanda down as well. At the bottom, she paused again with another contraction and Steve raced for the van to at least get it started while they waited. After all, it was February.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait for long, and Steve couldn't help but tease, "Now I see how you got all those track medals in high school."

A grin stretched Bucky's lips at that, but he was still in a hurry to move their son's vehicle, even though Wanda wasn't even in the van yet. But he couldn't fault his husband for being in a rush. Hell, his whole body felt like it was running a marathon and all he had done was walk from his bedroom to the garage and back. Reaching for the glovebox, Steve made sure that his emergency inhaler was there. Just in case.

Wanda cried at another contraction.

"Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Exhale. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," Vis softly instructed from the seat beside her, letting her squeeze his hand as hard as she needed to.

Once Jonas's van was moved, Steve quickly backed out of the garage. Briefly pausing to let Bucky in the passenger seat. Bucky's breathing was almost as labored as Wanda's, and to lighten the mood, Steve joked, "My inhaler's in there if you need to use it."

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, however, Wanda cursed in her pain, "Fuck!"

Finally on street, the contraction was over and Wanda apologized, "Sorry, pops."

"You got nothin' to worry about, sweetie," Steve assured while Bucky chuckled, "Pops swears enough for everyone, so don't feel bad about it."

Wanda weakly giggled at that and from the rearview mirror, Steve could see that her eyes were closed. Good, he thought, hoping that it wouldn't be a long labor. Nevertheless, he nearly sped the entire time and was beyond thankful that the roads weren't slick before he finally pulling into the hospital parking lot.

Steve pulled up outside of the entrance and Vis opened the door before he even had a chance to stop the vehicle. As he helped his fiancée out of the back, Bucky climbed out from the passenger seat and said, "I'm gonna get them set up."

"I'll meet you inside," Steve assured, blowing his husband a kiss.

Left alone, Steve's tired mind was trying to wrap itself around the situation. Sure, they had been planning out all the different scenarios so they could be prepared. But now that it was actually happening, it was different. Steve could feel the nerves knotting his stomach and making his palms sweaty.

"You've got this," Steve encouraged himself as he parked and grabbed the bags. Slinging each bag over his shoulders, Steve carried the yoga ball into the hospital. Beyond relieved when he found Bucky waiting for him. Forever grateful to be going through this -- like everything else -- with him.

"Ready?" Bucky asked, taking the ball from him.

"As I'll ever be," Steve confirmed, handing over Wanda's heavier bag.

Hand in hand, the pair headed for Wanda's room. Occasionally, Bucky would give Steve's hand a soothing squeeze, just to remind him that he was there. Before the elevator stopped at Wanda's floor, Bucky brought Steve's hand up to give it a kiss.

"You know," Bucky started, "You're the hottest grandpapa I've ever seen."

"Clearly," Steve tried to stop his blush from getting too red, "You haven't looked in a mirror."

At their floor, Bucky's laughter echoed in the empty hall. Steve rolled his eyes, even as his grin remained intact for the rest of the walk. Standing outside of Wanda's door was another story, however. Needing a moment, Steve quietly turned to face Bucky, "You nervous?"

"A little," Bucky whispered.

Nodding, Steve said, "I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone but you."

"Likewise," Bucky agreed, that toothy grin returning.

And since Bucky's smiles were contagious, Steve smiled too. Content with greeting this next chapter in his life, Steve knocked on the closed door. Not wanting to just barge into their adoptive daughter's space, they patiently waited until Vis opened the door for them.

"Five centimeters," Vis instantly divulged, looking frazzled by the information.

Steve's brows shot up on his forehead while his eyes widened. From the bed, Wanda joked, "She sure is punctual, huh?"

Removing the baby's bag from his shoulder, Steve glanced at the clock and noticed that it was officially the baby's due date. Steve chuckled, "Could have worst traits."

Wanda noncommittally shrugged and tried to get comfortable despite being in labor and being hooked up to so many monitors. Steve took a seat in one of the chairs beside the bed. Instantly encouraging the teen, "You've got this."

Reaching out, Wanda covered Steve's hand with her own and softly smiled, "Thanks."

"Of course," Steve returned the smile and gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

When she yawned, Bucky suggested, "You should try and rest."

"I don't know if I can," Wanda tiredly argued. Briefly pressing her lips together, trying to fight the smile wanting to break free, "I'm excited to meet her."

"Me too," Vis agreed, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

Letting Vis have his seat, Steve stood and went to sit beside Bucky on the loveseat by the large window. Bucky took Steve's hand in his and laced their fingers together. Glad to have each other. Glad to know that their daughter and future son-in-law had each other.

Yawning, Steve rested his head on Bucky's broad shoulder and let his heavy eyelids closed. Trying to get a little more rest while he could when he could. Especially since the next moment he awoke, the doctor was entering the room and greeting them.

"Mr. and Mr. Barnes, are you ready to meet your granddaughter?" Dr. Cho smiled while the nurses got things ready for delivery.

"Pops," Wanda called, reaching out for him from her bed.

Standing from the loveseat, Steve crossed the room to her and let her take his hand in hers. Pushing her hair off her face, he assured, "You've got this."

Nodding, there were tears in her eyes as she agreed, "I've got this."

On the other side of Wanda, Vis wasn't looking too confident. Thankfully, Bucky draped his arm around the teen's shoulders and complimented, "I couldn't ask for anyone better to be the father of my granddaughter."

Tears filling his eyes as well, Vis softly said, "Thanks."

Bucky ruffled his strawberry blond hair the way he would with their other sons, and confirmed, "No problem."

With Bucky taking his requested place up by Wanda's head so he could mop up her sweat, and Steve holding her right foot while Vis held her left, Wanda did as instructed. Inhaling deeply, before pressing her chin into her chest and pushing with all of her might. Only taking a moment to inhale again before following Dr. Cho's instructions, "Doin' good, Wanda. One more big push."

Grunting, Wanda pushed as much and as powerful as she could. Really putting her all into it as she tightly grasped her thighs and pulled them towards herself.

"That's it, you're doin' great, sweetie," Dr. Cho encouraged, "Another big, big push."

"You can do it," Vis soothingly rubbed her ankle.

Then, Wanda dropped back against the bed in relief as Dr. Cho got to cleaning the baby up. Just the minimal of cleaning, such as her airway before she placed the bald baby on Wanda's abdomen. Wanda cried in her happiness, and Steve noted how Vis was too. Really, it wasn't any surprise that when he looked up, misty-eyed himself, that Bucky's steel-blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Hi, sweetie," Wanda sniffled, touching her daughter. When her little eyes opened, Wanda asked, "Whatcha thinkin', Pietra Stefania, hmm?"

"Thinking about how beautiful her mom is," Vis smiled, wiping his tears and leaning over to kiss Wanda's sweaty temple.

It was such a Bucky thing to say that Steve couldn't help but look over at his husband. So thankful for the life that they had created for themselves and their children, and now, for their grandchildren too.

#a place to fall #jump then fall #those who fall #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #domestic life #fluff #smut #otp

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valkyriesryde · 4 years

Text

Honey-pie

Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Summary: Sam will do anything to make you his, he’s tired of the back and forth and the fact you’re always taken. He just wants you to be his girl.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol, swearing, thats it.

Word Count: 1,484

A/N: This is a VERY late submission to Dani’s 250 writing challenge @stuckonjbbarnes I apologise for the lateness I love you lots and I hope this makes up for it (i promise I have more fluff for you to come) LOVE YOU BABE

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

“Are they fighting again?” Steve turns to Sam behind his cup of coffee, raising an eyebrow at his friend as they watch you rolling your eyes to whoever, they assume is your current boyfriend, at the table.

“Aren’t they always,” he sighs back.

“I can’t...I told you Zac I can't. I'm busy...I can do things WITHOUT YOU!...Does it matter?...I’m hanging out with Sam and the gang,” you bit your lip and tried not to look up at the men who you knew are in the kitchen.

Sam’s eyes widened as Steve looked at him as if to question if you did actually have plans together, you didn’t and Sam shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“What are we going to do?! You’re going to play video games all night with your friends and I’ll just sit there on my phone feeling like shit. I’m staying in tonight to hang out with my roommates okay. End of. Text me when you’ve stopped being a dick.”

~~~~~~~

“She used you as an excuse not to hang out with her boyfriend?” Bucky questions Sam as he spins in his desk chair while Sam is sprawled out across Bucky’s bed with a slight smile on his face.

“Yea! I was surprised that she used me because we didn’t have anything planned first of all, but I also don’t think she likes me that much like we have a sort of, I would say-”

“Banter, you two banter.” Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam and spun around again.

“I was going to call it a cute back and forth,” Sam points out.

“Get out of my room.”

“What’d I do?!”

“You’re being stupid. She has a boyfriend Sam,” Bucky was getting sick of this, he knew Sam had a crush on you. He also was aware you had a boyfriend, even if no one liked him. And Bucky knew that you were conflicted about the man in your life already. You didn’t need Sam making it any more complicated.

“Yea but he’s a dick, I could and would treat her better than him. I’m not going to stop Bucky, I’m going to make her mine. I’m going to make her my girl.” Sam was determined, you deserved the best and if it were up to him the best is what you would get. He wasn’t crazy like Bucky or Steve thought. There was something there between the two of you he knew that, you knew that. You just wouldn’t admit it. Why? Because you were roommates. Because you’d known each other since college. Because if anything happened and it blew up in your face you wouldn’t forgive yourself. Because you were with Zac, even if you were realising he was a piece of shit. They were always pieces of shit.

“Good luck.”

“I think you mean break a leg.”

“Please leave me alone.”

~~~~~~~~

A cute back and forth was a pretty good way to describe what you and Sam had. You had nicknames for each other, you always called him Sam I am and he always called you honey-pie. Always. You teased and went back and forth constantly. Whenever you talked there was never an opportunity for someone else to join the conversation because it moved so quickly and fluidly between you.

Sitting on Zac’s couch while he went on about something you had lost interest in twenty minutes ago you realised that it was so much better talking to Sam. Sam asked you about your day as soon as he saw you, he asked how you were doing, he remembered the things you told him about, he actually listened to you. He wanted you to talk to him, he encouraged you to be a part of conversations and as someone who was more of a listener than a talker you appreciated that. He always stopped and let you collect your thoughts before you talked. He made you feel listened to, made you feel that what you had to say, as random as it was, was important. Zac never did any of that.

You’d only been dating a few months but when you realised that, you called it quits. This isn’t how you should be feeling in a relationship and especially not this early. You didn’t tell the boys though. No one really mentioned it when you stopped going out twice a week to see him. Nobody pressed you for information. When the flat’s Halloween was being planned and they asked (mainly to confirm what they already knew) you simply told them.

“We broke up, no need to invite him,” and that was the end of that. You didn’t make a move with Sam, he didn’t make a move with you. You figured if it was going to happen it would. It didn’t.

The party came along and it was in full swing by midnight. The music blasting, drinking games going on in every other room.

“You don’t look like you’re having a good time,” Sam came up behind you as you leaned against the wall watching Bucky play beer pong against T’Challa. His front pressed against you as he watched over your shoulder.

“Two jocks going at it over beer pong? Pretty sure I’ve seen this before,” you joked and Sam chuckled, his head falling to your shoulder briefly.

“Come on honey-pie what’s on your mind that’s got you so blue?” You smirked as you turned to face him and Sam gladly smirked back, his hand on your hip. “That’s not the smile I was hoping for but I’ll take it. Come on, let’s get some snacks.”

He pulled you through the crowd into the kitchen and you sat on the bench with a bowl of pretzels on your lap and fed Sam while he refilled your drinks. The music shifted and you jumped off, starting to sway with the beat. Sam grabbed your hand and spun you as the lyrics started.

Ooh, girl, don't you stop

Don't you stop 'til you get enough, honey

Oh, honey, honey-pie, honey, honey, honey-pie

You spun and jumped with him to the song, your song as he called it, the reason he called you honey-pie because of the week straight you spent humming and playing it throughout the apartment.

As the first verse started Sam pulled you into him so your back was against his front and his arm around your waist holding your hand and he sang the lyrics in your ear.

“Ooh girl don’t you stop. Till you’re my girl, girl, and I won’t stop until you’re mine, girl. And you can’t stop until you’re mine, girl. And I can’t find out what you want, what you got. I got that honey-pie, come bite it.” He sang, his lips brushing over the skin behind your ear, your head moving to give him more access to your neck as his teeth scrapped down your pulse after the last line. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your jaw, his lips on your ear. “Oh honey-pie.”

You turned your body in his arms, his hands on your hips as your fingers crept up his chest and neck until they lingered on his jaw and then his lips were on yours and he was pressing you against the side of the fridge.

“Sam,” you breathed out as people pushed past the two of you causing him to press against you further. His thigh pushing between your legs until his entire body was touching yours.

“Honey-p” but he couldn’t get out his sentence before you were kissing him again. His hands moving all over, up your back, under your shirt until someone cleared their throat behind him and you jumped apart.

“Look I’m happy for the two of you, but get a fucking room. You have two to choose from just please don’t fuck in my kitchen!” Bucky grabbed a beer out of the fridge and rolled his eyes at the two of you while you held back a giggle in Sam’s arms.

“We pay rent too!” Sam quipped back but you were already pulling him down the hallway towards your room and as you pushed him into the room with a laugh from both of you you heard Bucky call out.

“I OWN THE HOUSE!”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and pulled your hand until you sat on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck loosely and his around your waist. He wore a goofy smile as he looked at you and his fingers ran under your shirt.

“What are you smiling at?” You asked him, tracing his cheekbones and Sam placed soft kisses on your palm as he hummed.

“My honey-pie,” and he leaned forward and kissed your collarbone, nuzzling into your neck.

“Yours huh?”

“Not gonna stop until your mine baby-girl.”

~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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simsadventures · 4 years

Text

My Avenger Girl

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky grows stronger everyday, and Bucky feels confident enough to take you to the Avenger compound for you to meet his family. And you fit right in.

Warnings: fluff, hint of jealousy, implied smut, swearing, Avengers x Supernatural crossover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x huntress!Winchester!Reader, Dean Winchester x reader (platonic), Sam Winchester x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 2561

A/N: Third part of My Girl Miniseries is here you guys! I got to thank @voltage2d-mylove for requesting the sequels to the original fics, because I’m having so much fun writing this! Hope some of you enjoy this little something with me :) xx

My Girl Miniseries Masterlist __ Masterlist

Part I Part II Part IV

Bucky laid on his back in your bed in the bunker, staring at the ceiling, thinking. He loved spending time with you, and the more he actually was with you, the more he fell in love with you. The worst thing, however, was that he had to leave you every now and then, because either you had a case that would take a bit longer than a day, or because he was called on a mission. And he hated leaving you behind. He wanted to spend every minute of the day with you, still very much in the first phase of the relationship, where people couldn’t keep their hands together.

You owned Bucky’s heart and soul, and he knew that if anything happened to you while he was gone, he would hate himself for the rest of his life. He’s meant to ask you a single question for the past few weeks, but every time he worked up the courage to do so, something stopped him.

One time, it was your brother, Sam, coming into the library just as Bucky took a breath to ask you. Then it was his own phone, and Steve calling him to tell him they had an urgent mission. Or it was the timer on the stove. Every fucking time. And it kinda made Bucky feel like he shouldn’t ask you in the first place. That maybe it’s fate. Or perhaps he’s just being stupid, he told himself and looked over at your sleeping form.

You were so cute asleep, your mouth slightly opened, your eyes fluttering, and Bucky would give anything to see what was happening behind your eyelids. If you were dreaming of him, or not. If you thought of him just as often as he was thinking of you.

He rolled over to the side, so that he was facing you, and trying to be as gentle as possible, he slid his hand under the sheets and caressed the skin on your arm eliciting a hum from your lips. It was past 9 AM, so he knew you had to get up either way, and he thought that having him wake you up might make you less grumpy.

His fingers travelled to your collarbone, only the fingertips touching you, drawing circles on your skin. He could hear your heart beating a bit faster, and your breath not being as slow and deep as it was moments ago; all signs of you waking up.

When he looked into your face, you were already staring back at him, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Well good morning to you, Mr Barnes!” You rasped, your voice husky from the lack of talking.

Bucky smiled at you and nuzzled your cheek before he kissed you.

“Good morning to you too, Ms Y/L/N. Did you have a good night?”

You just nodded and brought him closer to you, unwilling to get up out of bed just yet. You wanted to sleep as long as possible, and if Bucky weren’t as cute as he was, you would definitely scold him for waking you up at all. But who could be mad at that pretty face?

“I’ve been thinking, Y/N, and-“ Bucky starts but before he can finish you sit up straight, bringing your blanket with you to cover your modesty and looking at him confusedly.

“Are you breaking up with me? I thought we were at a good place, I thought things were fine between us. More than fine, actually. Why do you want to leave me? What did I do wrong? How-“

It was now Bucky’s time to stop you from rambling by putting his finger on your lips and shaking his head. Breaking up, pff, sure.

“Listen to me, Y/N. You are one crazy person, you know that? I didn’t want to break up with you, you moron. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to the compound, get to know my teammates and stuff. I love you! I’m not letting you go, don’t you worry about that,” he smiled at you sweetly, and your heart finally calmed down a bit.

You chuckled nervously, feeling a little ashamed for letting your anxiety take over this moment.

Bucky laughed as well and kissed you again, but before he could get out of the bed, you took his hand in his and brought him back.

“I love you too, you know? That’s why I freaked out like that. And yes, I would love to get to know your family, it would be my pleasure.”

You could see your boyfriend beaming with pride, both from your admission of love and that you were actually excited to meet the people that were somehow most important to him.

“Do you think we could leave today? You know, be there for the weekend so that I could fly you back before your brothers got back from that wraith hunt. I know how much you miss them,” he smirked at you, and you swatted his shoulder.

But it was true, you did miss your brothers. However, lately, you’ve been feeling very different kinds of emotions, and that especially when Bucky left for some mission, or when you had to go on a hunt. You missed him like crazy, your body craved him, and your mind called for him. You always thought you’d be hunting with your brothers for the rest of your life, but ever since you met Bucky, things changed, and you suddenly longed to spend more time with him. Even if it meant not seeing your brothers every second of every day.

You knew they would understand if Bucky asked you to move in with him and if you said yes, but because that question was not yet asked, you didn’t want to delve too deeply into it. You just hoped Bucky was on the same note as you were, and that this New York visit would bring you two closer to the shared future.

You got ready reasonably quickly, packing the essentials and some sexy lingerie just in case the two of you could get some moments alone. Which you hoped you could get, to be completely honest. Staying away from Bucky and bed was a task you weren’t too good at, and you prayed to Chuck that you would never get better in it.

The flight to New York was swift, thanks to the quinjet, a thing you enjoyed immensely because the travelling was just somehow easier than driving around like three idiots with your brothers, with constant back pain thanks to the old car seats.

When you saw the compound get into the view, you started to play with your hands. Not that you weren’t excited to meet everyone. You sure were. But, at the same time, you knew all those people from television. They were superheroes. And you were… well, you. And you just hoped that it would be enough and that they wouldn’t want to drive you away because you weren’t good enough for their friend.

You’ve already met the Falcon and Captain American, however briefly that was. You were most nervous about Natasha, quite frankly. She was a goddess in your eyes, her graceful fighting techniques, her elegant walk, everything about her was perfect in your mind, and you didn’t know how you could even fight her for Bucky’s attention.

God! You were pathetic. You haven’t even met the woman yet, but you quickly assumed what would happen when you met her. For all you knew she wouldn’t even be there, or she’d be the nicest person on this Earth. Which, for some reason, irritated you even more.

Bucky could probably feel your nerves, because he put his hands into your lap, separating your own hands because he feared you’d rip the skin on your fingers down completely.

“You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Everyone’s gonna love you, I know that for a fact!”

You tried to give him a smile, but the only thing you could muster was a grimace, and you were surprised that Bucky didn’t shriek in fear at what your face was capable of doing.

“I know, it’s just, your friends are all so cool, and like you’re superheroes and stuff, and I’m just a plain ol’ me,” you whispered, more to yourself than Bucky, but with his super hearing, you knew he would catch that as well.

He landed the jet and turned to face you.

“Plain old you? Are you kidding me? You’re one of the most badass women I’ve ever met. You fight monsters on a daily basis, baby! I love you, and nothing can change my mind, alright?”

That calmed you down a bit, and you hugged him tightly, trying to feel his heart beating against your own chest, that always brought you back in the moment. Bucky smiled into your hair and let you take all the time you needed to gather the courage to go and face the building full of superheroes.

When you pulled away, he kissed your forehead, whispering that everything will be alright, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the plane and inside the building.

It didn’t look like you imagined. For some reason, you thought it will be quiet and lonely, but the whole compound was buzzing with people running left and right, some in lab coats, while others were wearing technical gear. You looked around, and it all seemed unreal. Everything was new and shiny and seemed extremely expensive. Not like your home underground. You loved that space you shared with your brothers, but this looked much cooler.

Bucky was watching your every reaction as he led you through the compound, nodding at people around him, but not really giving them his attention. That was all on you.

You two finally reached the common room, where Bucky knew the most of the team would be at that time of the day. It was lunchtime, and his teammates were like hungry bears. Some were hungry and looking like pigs *cough, cough, Sam, cough* but he wouldn’t say that out loud. At least, not today.

When you stepped inside the room, everyone stopped talking and turned to look at you. You gave them all a shy smile, and you could see a few smirk and smiles around the room. The first to break the silence was Sam.

“Well, well, well. Look who came back, our lover boy! And he brought his badass huntress with him! What a pleasant surprise. Nice to see you again, Y/N,” Sam hollered and gave you a nod, while Bucky just rolled his eyes at Sam’s theatrical behaviour.

You said your hellos to the rest of the group and sat down next to Bucky by the huge table, where Vision served some Hungarian food. You didn’t know what it was, but it was so damn good you later asked him to give you a recipe to cook for your brothers. You just made a mental note to put a lot more meat into Dean’s plate.

The whole lunch was so regular it hurt. You expected that they would talk about monsters and stuff, but the closest the conversation got to a monster was when Sam told the group about catching Steve in a bathroom, giving himself a pep-talk, which included something about Steve being a beast, a sexy sexy beast, and you couldn’t hear more than that through all the snorts of laughter around the table.

Steve was red as a tomato, and you gave him an apologetical smile, still trying to contain your laughter. To try and calm him down, you told him about the time you caught Dean doing pretty much the same, looking in the mirror without a t-shirt on, kissing his biceps and winking at himself in the mirror. That got the people to laugh as well, and Steve nodded at you, glad that the conversation shifted slightly.

Just like you thought, Natasha was even prettier in reality, but while you thought Bucky would be looking at her, because, c’mon, who wouldn’t look at her? You had a problem keeping your eyes away from her beautiful face. Bucky was staring at you the whole time, and it made you feel that much better about yourself and your whole relationship.

You and Natasha even shared a bonding moment about her knife collection, which she insisted on showing you and the two of you spent good 20 minutes comparing knives and different techniques at either throwing them or stabbing somebody.

You didn’t even realise it, but by the time you finished talking to everybody in the room, it got dark outside, and Bucky walked to your side to seemingly rescue you from one of Sam’s funny stories from a mission where he was with Bucky. You knew that Bucky was more saving himself from the embarrassment of you knowing all those dirty secrets Sam would tell you, but you didn’t protest. You bid your goodbyes to the whole room and followed Bucky to his little apartment within the compound.

“See? I told you you would be fine, and you didn’t believe me,” Bucky said, intertwining his fingers with yours, walking down the corridor.

“I had my doubts, not gonna lie. And yes, you were right, and I will always listen to you from now on,” you said mockingly, but with a smirk playing on your lips.

Bucky laughed out loud and squeezed your hand.

“We both know that’s not true, doll.”

“Well, there is one place where I can listen to you, all night long, and I can do it in a brand new see-through lingerie if you let me get changed,” you rasped seductively (or at least you hoped it was seductive), but judging by the throaty groan coming from Bucky, you assumed you did an excellent job. And by the sudden quick pace of Bucky’s footsteps, you imagined he couldn’t wait for you to listen to him, just the way he liked it.

Before you could reach the room, Bucky spun you around and pushed you against a wall. He smirked devilishly at you, and kissed you hungrily, taking your breath away in the process.

You head was spinning from the lack of oxygen and from the intensity of the kiss, but when Bucky pulled away and asked you something, you almost fainted then and there.

“Move in with me,” he whispered, and before you could give him an affirmative answer, he continued.

“I know that I’m competing with your brothers, and that you might think this is too fast, but I fucking love you doll, and every day without you is a horrible day. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

You were staring at each other, and you knew that there wasn’t a better place for you, than in Bucky’s arms.

“Yes, I’ll gladly move in with you, Sergeant Barnes. My brothers will manage, and I can still hunt with them from time to time. It’s not like I’m never going to see them again.”

Bucky released a relieved sigh and kissed you again, this time much slower, conveying all his emotions in this one kiss. And you seriously couldn’t wait to start this new chapter with him.

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Astrophile [Pt.16]

Chapter: Double Star

Summary: Pizza and Cuddles.

Warnings: Fluff.

A/N: So sorry this has taken so long to get out, but here it is! Only one more chapter to go. I can’t believe it’s nearly over!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Pizza was Y/n’s pick for dinner. Mostly because it was rather late by the time they made their way towards a place that served food, thankfully they live in New York though and can get pizza nearly any time of the day or night. Within reason, there was an unfortunate incident when Steve and Bucky were in college, and it turns out six in the morning is pretty hard to find a pizza place that will deliver. Tonight though Bucky wouldn’t have cared what they ate or what they did, she could have offered to make macaroni and cheese back at her apartment and, not the good kind either – the old school blue box with the powdered cheese and, he would have taken those stairs two at a time if it meant he got to spend a few hours alone with Y/n.

All he’s wanted for weeks now is to have her to himself for just a little while. Selfish? Might be, but Bucky doesn’t spend a lot of time being selfish these days. The last time he did anything remotely selfish he ended up with a late-night phone call from a panicked one night stand letting him know he was about to be a dad and, hey, that time it all worked okay – scratch that, it worked out better than okay. It was amazing. Ori is the best part of his life, and maybe she came from a self-indulgent moment, but she is one of the few good things in his life.

He can add one more thing to that list now that he has Y/n.

Y/n spent a lot of time talking over dinner. Who knew extra cheese makes her so chatty? Not that she didn’t open up to him on any other night they’ve spent together, but something about this conversation is different. She tells him about growing up with her grandparents, which kids always thought was so cool because who doesn’t like going to their grandparents, right? It’s all candy and hugs, and dollars slipped into tiny hands with the whispered promise not to tell mommy and daddy.

Of course, Y/n loves her grandparents, but it wasn’t always easy when she was little. They were older grandparents because her parents had her later in their lives so they couldn’t go on field trips or participate in field day. There wasn’t a lot of money to hire extra help for the bookstore so often only one of them could make it to dance recitals or talent shows. That made Bucky briefly wonder if Ori ever feels the same on those long nights when she’s sleeping at Nat’s because he can’t be home with her. He’s spent countless nights lying awake worrying that she’s spent more time with Nat than with him and, one day when she’s all grown up she’s going to resent him for that.

Y/n being Y/n picks up on it right away, quickly squashing the thought with a firm reassurance, Don’t even think about it, James Barnes. You give that little girl your whole self. I’ve never seen a more devoted father. It’s not the same.

At the time, Bucky had rolled his eyes and leaned forward to wipe a bit of sauce off her nose before urging her to go on. Which she does but not before ducking her head to hide that little shy smile of hers. She goes on to tell him about college and taking over the store when her grandparents could no longer run it. She reveals how her parents left to attend a conference and never came back – the calendar, the ink, and the childhood heartbreak.

All of it.

By the time they arrive back at her place, she’s told Bucky about the pencil on her calendar and how she’s still hesitant to write anything down in permanent ink. He caught a quick glimpse at the faded marks where their date should have been written on their ascent up the back stairs that lead directly into her apartment from the back office. Bucky knows nearly every secret her heart has to tell, so he figures sharing a few of his wouldn’t hurt. After all, she’s the reason his heart is beating faster, the cause behind those butterflies in his stomach and her smile… well, nothing sparkles quite the way she does when she’s smiling at him.

And when they are together like this, the whole world makes sense. Everything snaps into place as if it’s always meant to be the three of them.

“And she just left?“

Bucky nods and leans back against the arm of the couch so he can see Y/n as he continues, "Yeah, she grabbed her skinny jeans and took off."

"I hate that for Ori and you,” she tucks her legs under her and leans her head on the back of the couch facing Bucky, and says with disbelief, “It’s hard to believe she didn’t want to know Ori. She’s the best kid, Bucky. She’s bright and funny and so kind and generous. You did such a good job raising her, and she adores you. You should see the way she lights up when you’re around.”

He offers her a shy smirk and drops his eyes to the woven red thread of the couch because it’s too much to hear those words and see the spark in her eye as she says them. He’s only human. He can only take her beauty in small doses.

"Thank you. That means a lot. I had a lot of help, though. I’m not sure she would be so amazing if it weren’t for all the help I’ve had over the years. Especially Nat.”

"Yes, she would. She’s half you after all. Where do you think all that good came from?”

Bucky looks up and shakes his head, but he couldn’t stop the grin. She scoots closer to him and nods towards the television.

“Pick a movie, Buck. You know I’m right.”

They are navigating something wholly new, and somehow it didn’t feel new at all. Having Y/n tucked against his side as a movie plays in the background and feeling her fingers tracing the lines of tattoo suggests this isn’t the first time he has held her like this, but the thudding in his chest is there to remind him how fresh her touch is. Her fingers pause on the main star of his tattoo, and she looks up at him raising her brows. Bucky reveals the reason behind ink on his arm without her having to ask. He tells her it was a bad night a few months after Ori was born. Steve got hurt pretty badly, and they weren’t able to save a little girl who lived on the top floor of a three-story brownstone.

He tells her how he couldn’t explain what happened, but Bucky knew at that moment he needed to have a piece of his little girl with him when he was running into buildings most people were running out of and, she had said, “So, you put your heart on your sleeve for all to see.” If it was even possible she gained another piece of his heart right then – that’s assuming she doesn’t already have all of it.

“You would make a very handsome chimney sweep,” Y/n observes as they watch Jack dance across the small television in her living room. Bucky had whined until they put on Mary Poppins Returns, claiming he really didn’t like that she missed movie night and things wouldn’t be right until she watched it.

Bucky dramatically clutches his chest and gasps, “Are you just hanging out with me for my looks?”

She giggles and buries her nose in his neck, admitting against the soft skin below his jaw, “You do have very pretty eyes, but no. You like me for me. That’s why I like being with you.”

He doesn’t say anything. Bucky can’t because there is an extremely high chance he’s going to say something stupid. He simply grips her legs that are resting on his lap, pulling them securely against him and she can feel a soft kiss landing on the crown of her head. The world calms enough to let her know she’s the one that’s spinning and everything outside her window quiets, waiting for them to admit what everyone around them already knows. Y/n’s head falls to his shoulder, and she looks up to meet his admittedly pretty eyes, but the words she wants to say die on her tongue and the stars sigh in frustration.

They had time to talk about it about another night. There is something she needs to know now, though.

“Hey, for Halloween–”

“Nope.”

“Come on! How cute would it be?!”

“It’s not gonna happen, Beck. No matter how far you stick out that lip.”

“What if I cry?”

“Christ– Dammit…Please don’t.”

She breaks down into a burst of laughter thanks to the look of panic mixed with genuine pain on his face. Bucky playfully narrows her eyes and grips her hips, curling his fingers into just enough to give her a hint to what’s about to happen. She doesn’t have time to protest or beg him not to, his fingers are squeezing her sides until she’s breathless with laughter and somehow amid all the tickling, she ends up on his lap with her head resting against his chest. Her chest is still heaving as she attempts to steady her breathing and debates climbing off his lap to claim her former place beside him, but Bucky rests his chin on top of her head and wraps his hand around her calf – his silent plea for her to stay and keep his heart in one piece.

So she stays.

Her attention turns back to the movie after tangling her fingers into the soft fabric of his dark blue Henley and burrowing herself as close to his warmth as she can get. This is the first time in nearly a week she let herself relax, and her body is taking full advantage allowing her to give in to how truly exhausted she is, skimming the surface of sleep while surrounded by that earthy, slightly citrus scent that can only belong to Bucky.

“Come on sleepyhead,” Bucky whispers against her ear as the credits begin to roll on the screen. He is already lifting her into his arms and carrying her towards her bedroom by the time her sleep riddled brain thought up a comeback, and it’s a fairly weak retort that she manages to mumble into his chest, “I am not sleepy."

Bucky chuckles, "Sure, you’re ready to run a marathon.”

He lays her on top of her heavy red and orange comforter and pulls the plush white blanket at the end of her bed over her, whispering into the darkened room, “ Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bucky slowly pulls back letting go of her hand as he retreats from the queen size bed. Something about the whole moment makes him think of putting Ori to sleep, and it has him grinning. Y/n’s eyes flutter open for only a second, and she grabs his hand to keep him from leaving her alone.

“Don’t go. Stay. Cuddles.”

Even through her sleepy haze, she can tell he’s hesitant, she cracks an eye and sticks out her bottom lip, pleading with a sleepy voice, “Please? I’ll cry if I have to.”

Good grief, between Ori and Y/n he’s completely screwed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay,” Bucky says instantly.

He toes his boots off in record time and parks himself next to her on the bed, running his fingers through her hair. He can tell she’s still floating around the edges of sleep despite the proud smirk on her face from getting her way. It’s not that he doesn’t want to slip under those cotton sheets and spend the night wrapped around her, he does. He wants to wake up to find her legs tangled with his and her whole body draped over him, but he also wants her to feel safe when she’s with him.

Always.

“I’ll stay till you fall asleep, but then I’m moving to the couch. I am not sure you’re in the right headspace to consent to cuddles.” She smiles at that as she leans her head against his thigh and takes a deep breath of his scent before letting herself drift off.

The early afternoon sunlight comes too soon. They were up till nearly four in the morning and waking up before noon feels like a punishment no one deserves, but maybe Y/n can convince Bucky to sleep in a bit longer. She rolls to her left side and throws her arm out, hoping to connect with a warm body for cuddles; all she finds is a cold empty space, and she jolts up.

Did he leave after he carried her to bed?

Y/n tosses the blankets off her and slowly wanders into the living room looking for her phone in hopes he at least left her a message, but as she approaches the couch she sees Bucky– He’s crammed his massive body onto her tiny couch and used the small crochet blanket she keeps on the back of said couch to cover him; it doesn’t come close to enveloping him and all those holes didn’t help to keep the cold air out. She decides to let him sleep. Muffins were put in the oven and coffee was brewing, they stayed up late, and he deserves a morning without rush or worry. Breakfast is nearly done and she's in the middle of debating if she should wake him now or let the muffins cool first when a hoarse voice calls from the couch, “Are you making me breakfast babydoll?”

The spinning is back.

“Maybe,” She calls back as she makes her way towards the couch with two cups of coffee, “Or maybe I’m just making myself breakfast.”

Bucky drapes her blanket back over the arm of the couch and sits back down, making room for her to join him. He pictured her apartment a few hundred times, and this is close to what he thought it would look like. The couch was big and red, sitting right in the middle of the room, two green armchairs sit under the far window and the old twenty-four inch tv they watched the previous night is sitting on a lime green chest that he is sure her grandparents bought brand new.

The black trunk she uses for a coffee has Y/n written all over it, with well worn leather straps and the curio cabinet on the far wall across from the chairs has hand painted flowers on the doors. It felt warm and full of light and all Y/n. Everything had a place he noticed. There isn’t a mess. Not like his place where the mess never seems to end and after getting to know Y/n’s heart the last few months he understands why she likes the mess so much. Y/n sits down next to him and the again cushions sinks, Bucky raises a brow and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t want me to cry now, would ya?”

“No, I think it would break my heart to see you cry,” Y/n glares at his playful wink and passes him the mug full of coffee she made for him – Black with two sugars. Just the way he likes. She takes a sip from her own mug and smirks as she asks, “Did you say consent to cuddles last night?”

“What?” Bucky clears his throat and holds the ‘i need space’ mug in front of his face, hoping to block the red he knows is rapidly spreading over his face, he says, “No, I didn’t say that. I don’t– I don’t recall that.”

She giggles, and it makes Bucky grin. He loves that sound almost as much as he loves– likes her. His head is telling him it’s too soon for big feelings like those. If only he can get his heart and head to agree.

“I have to work tonight,“ Bucky mentions, letting it linger in the air and lifting his left arm for Y/n to curl into his side like she’s been hinting at with every little scoot closer. She’s awake. She can consent to cuddles now and he’s hardly able to keep his hand off her. She looks up from his side where she snuggled up to and asks, “When do you need to leave to get Ori?”

“Uh, here soon, actually. I like to spend time with Ori before I go in if it’s possible. Do you want to come with me to pick her up? I have to bring her to Nat’s for the night, but I thought maybe we could pick her up and get an early dinner together before my shift.”

Her entire face lights up, and so does Bucky’s soul.

“You don’t mind me coming with you? I don’t want to take up your day with her. I know you guys have your alone time and it’s hard to come by.”

“Ori will be excited to see you. She’s had me all week. I think she’s missed our hangouts and I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to come,” He assures her with a kiss to the side of her head and a gentle squeeze to her hip.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go with you after muffins, deal?”

“Deal. Oh, and you can plan on being at movie night on Wednesday because it feels wrong without you.”

“Hold on a second,” Y/n says as she practically jumps off her couch and runs over to the wall calendar that hangs on the wall in her kitchen. She grabs the nearest pen and scribbles on next Wednesday, “Movie night with Bucky and Ori.”

Tony was right. It’s not so scary when Bucky is the one holding her hand.

-------

When Bucky told Y/n, Ori would be excited to see them all together he was not kidding in the least. She screamed so loud Bucky’s pretty sure the neighbors are going to call the police to do a welfare check. Sam spent their entire twenty-minute visit grinning like a maniac because Bucky held Y/n’s hand the full 1,200 seconds they stood in their doorway– he fully intends to make Sam pay for every single comment the second he falls asleep tonight. After lunch, Ori asked Bucky if she could spend the night with Y/n instead of Natasha. If it were anyone else he would have told her she needed to stay with Aunt Nattie, but it’s Y/n – it’s their Beck.

Ori would be just fine with her.

They swing by the house and grab Ori’s things so the girls could have a sleepover in the bookstore because who wants to sleep in a comfy bed when you can spend the night in a sleeping bag on the hard floor in the middle of the bookstore? Y/n and Ori Facetime him before bed, making sure he got a picture of their tent with the twinkle lights from Ori’s birthday party, and first thing in the morning they are calling with a cheerful good morning shout. By the time Bucky hangs up he’s grinning like an idiot and he can’t help but wonder if this is what it would be like if it were the three of them all the time.

He would be okay with that.

Sam collapses next to Bucky on that old orange and brown couch, glancing at Clint and Steve before nudging Bucky’s boot with his own, “So, she asked you to be her date to Tony’s wedding? That’s a year from now. I am pretty sure that means she doesn’t plan on dating anyone besides you. Not to mention you spent the night at her place.”

Of course, the three jerks Bucky has chosen as his best friends have not quit him about Y/n for the last sixteen hours. That is all thanks to Sam informing the entire station Y/n was there when he picked up Ori. He really needs new friends – friends that mind their own business.

“I slept on her couch,” Bucky retorts with an eye roll and, Sam is quick with a recovery, “Yeah, but she wanted to snuggle. Why can’t you just admit you love her? She’s perfect. I am failing to see the problem.”

There’s that big, monumental four-letter word again – love. Why can’t they take things one day at a time? Why does he have to jump in headfirst and possibly ruin everything they have right now? The last time he asked her out, she cancelled for crying out loud! Bucky doesn’t want to push too fast and maybe, lose her for good this time.

“I wouldn’t say we are at love just yet and it’s a big step, Sam. It’s not like Zoey or Claire–”

“God, I did not like her,” Sam groans. “She couldn’t even say Ori’s name right.”

“I don’t think she had much interest in peanut,” Clint pipes in after Sam.

“She’s not some woman I met at a bar that I’m bringing home for the night,” Bucky continues ignoring Sam and Clint’s commentary on his past relationships – well, hookups. No one can call those relationships. “Ori knows her and spends more time with Y/n than I do some weeks. She’s already spun into our lives and Ori’s heart. If things end badly or we don’t fit like everyone keeps insisting… what’s going to happen when Ori gets hurt?

“You mean when you get hurt? Because that’s what we are talking about here, right?”

Bucky meets Sam’s eyes and then looks up at Steve standing behind them. They are all wearing the same expression, the one that says they had him all figured out and maybe they do. Perhaps he is scared, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong either. “Look, I’m doing this my way. I need to be sure before It’s too late to take it all back.”

“I hate to tell you pal, but it’s already too late and I think you know that, Buck,” Steve is quick to point out and Sam takes this chance to jump in, “Look, take her out this weekend, and we will watch Ori. You’ve got forty-eight hours off so do whatever you do that makes chicks believe you actually have game and win her over. No more dancing around each other. Just tell her how you feel very clearly. In the plainest words possible because I’m telling you the two of you–”

“Sam,” Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t helping.”

“I’m just saying, they need it spelled out for them like they are in a Kindergarten class.”

“What if she doesn’t like me like that?” Bucky grumbles halting Sam and Steve’s bickering. Sam runs a hand down his face in frustration and shakes his head, answering before Steve or Clint could, “Christ, you are dumb. Why would she want to cuddle your ugly ass if she didn’t like you?”

Bucky has a snappy comment on the tip of his tongue, but there’s no time for snark or a shove off the back of the couch. The board is lighting up, they’ve got a call and Bucky has no time for payback. He jumps up and points at Sam, “Wait till we get back. I’ll show you who’s ugly. I’m damn adorable, and everyone knows it.”

“Enough,” Steve orders. It’s strange how easily Steve fades away, and he slips right into Captain mode. Steve recites the address back to the team and Bucky goes still, repeating the address in his head several times.

“Let’s get moving. Buck?” Steve murmurs, coming to a stop in front of the dazed man, “You all right? We’ve got to get going. If this is about what Sam said I need you to let it go till we handle this–”

“No, that’s not– That’s not the right address. That’s- that’s the store. Y/n’s bookstore.”

“Shit.”

“Steve. Ori is with Y/n today. They are at the bookstore together.”

And, Bucky’s entire world went up in flames in a matter of seconds.

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