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foxgloveprincess · 2 years

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A Love To Call My Own

Pairing: Stucky (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes) x Female Reader [First Person Narrator]

Word Count: 8K

Summary: Nothing is better than your life with Steve and Bucky. Through all the little obstacles that come your way, you always end up in the same spot—together.

Warnings: Monster AU (Naga Bucky and Minotaur Steve, Monsters x Human Romance), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Bad Parental Relationships (with Father), Skin Shedding (snake skin), Mild Sexual Content (Making Out, Light Petting, Light Biting), Cursing, Idiots in Love, Clubbing, Jealousy, Mild Possessiveness, POV Shifts (fourth section in Bucky’s and fifth section in Steve’s), Marriage, Traditions/Rituals, so much Romantic Fluff. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Part 3 for It’s A Game of Give and Take and You Just Have To Wait cause I just needed some more of my monster boys. This is my own little monster universe that I’ve created and I hope you enjoy it.

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I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account.

Title from “Can’t Hurry Love” by The Supremes

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Enjoy!

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age, thank you!

It starts with Bucky turning away, walking through the doors and boarding a plane. Steve leaves the next morning. And I’m left alone. An empty apartment. Too quiet and too big.

They call me when they get a chance, between panels at Steve’s conference and Bucky’s pitch meetings. And I trudge along, going to work and returning back home, sleeping on the couch wrapped up in a bundle of blankets.

“Wish you coulda come with me, li’l one,” Steve mutters over the line, hand running over his glamour and a beige hotel wall in the background. His head tips back and hits it with a dull thud.

“Yeah,” I whisper with a reluctant grin, finger tracing over the line of his jaw, “but there’s not much need for HR at a marketing and branding conference.”

“Not much need for me here, either,” Steve grumbles, glancing off screen with a furrowed brow. He huffs an aggravated breath through his nostrils, turning back to cast an apologetic smile my way. “I gotta go, li’l star. I love you.”

“Love you,” I murmur back, a watery smile stretching my lips as the call ends and the silence descends once again.

Pushing up from the couch, my pile of blankets fall toward my feet, unsatisfactory for what I need. Despite the weight and the textures, they still can’t replace Steve’s soft warmth or Bucky’s wrapping embrace.

The TV flickers on with a touch of a button, Netflix a welcome distraction in the early morning hours. I don’t even glance at the time on my phone, knowing I’m awake far too early to get ready for work. Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids, but even if I try, sleep will not take me under again. And I can’t regret the moment of comfort Steve’s call bestowed.

An hour passes, maybe two, and my alarm blares from the arm of the couch. I tap the screen and stand, stretching my sore back muscles and traipsing into our nesting room with a jaw-cracking yawn.

My morning routine passes in monotony, mechanical and lackluster without morning kisses and playful pets as I try to concentrate. I dress, pack my lunch, grab a quick breakfast to-go, and take out my travel mug.

The ping of my phone catches my attention, a sweet “Good morning, sugar plum!” greeting me from Bucky. My tea brews on the counter as I scroll through loving gifs to send back, far too tired to formulate a legitimate response.

If either have noticed my overabundant use of reaction images in the past few days, they’ve said nothing. Probably happy to receive an abbreviated response they can check between their work duties. But I know. Each day spiraling the drain until they get back.

I sigh, head tilting on my neck, craning from one side to the other, eyes closed for a brief moment. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with a cleansing breath before blowing out through my parted lips.

Another day.

Walking to the door, I hype myself up, ready to face the challenges work is sure to throw at me. Yearning can wait until I’m safely tucked into my makeshift bed again before it comes back out to play.

Halfway through the day, my phone pings again. My spirits brighten for just a brief second before I catch a glimpse of the text preview.

In an instant, everything crumbles beneath me. Every ounce of reserved energy sapped in the blink of an eye. My heart plummets toward my toes.

Hey sweetheart! It’s been a long time. I’m in town and would love to take you out to dinner and catch up. :-)

So simple. So ordinary. But it torpedoes any semblance of productivity or emotional well-being. As if a text from my father could do anything less.

My teeth grit, swallowing down my frustration and upset. Work is not the place for an outburst. Just keep it together, keep it together, keep it together. A mantra that scrapes me through the day by the skin of my teeth.

“So they were saying that our blue prints could go into production within the month if we’re willing to negotiate,” Bucky preens, gushing about his superb meeting with the head of a huge tech conglomerate.

Steve makes a noise of approval, his lips spread in a proud smile. But I can’t even manage a twitch of my lips, mind lost to rumination over the unanswered text sitting on my phone. Not even when both of them found a sweet little nugget of time to have a joined face call. Even then, I can’t stop thinking about how to respond to my father. If I even want to.

“Sugar?” Bucky asks, voice low and concerned.

“Hm?” My lips buzz with the noise, eyes unbroken in their focus on my phone sitting on the couch arm. My teeth pick at the dead skin on my lips, pulling and tugging even when it stings.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks, just as soft and dripping with worry.

I blink and turn my attention to my tablet screen. A grimace pulls at my lips, but I bite it back.

“I’m fine.”

From the way Steve’s brow furrows and Bucky’s jaw ticks, I know they don’t believe it.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “My dad texted me, ya know? I was just thinking about how I should respond.” The words stick in my throat, falling out meeker than I intend.

Silence settles between us, Steve’s shoulders rolling, a scowl etched onto his face. Bucky grits his teeth, biting back a hiss I still hear. Their eyes flick toward the corner of their screens, appeasing the instinct to exchange a glance with each other before returning their attentions to me.

My hand waves in front of my face, a vain attempt to waylay their worry and bat away the tears pooling in my eyes. I sniff, shoulders shrugging before I mutter, “It’s no big deal—”

“You asked him not to contact you again,” Bucky interrupts, enunciating each syllable with venom.

“He doesn’t listen,” I scoff, looking away from their penetrating eyes. “I’ll just delete it. It’s fine.” My lips press together, regret churning my stomach. With a sigh and shake of my head, I turn back to my boyfriends. “I’m sorry. I think I just need to get some sleep.”

A smile struggles to pull up the corners of my lips. They wobble and fall. My eyes focus on the patterned wallpaper behind Bucky’s head, trying my hardest to downplay my pain, heart raw and blistered in my chest.

Steve’s lips part, words left unspoken when he changes his mind. Instead, he says, “I love you, li’l one.”

“Please take care of yourself,” Bucky adds, leaning forward in his seat, looking as though he’s prepared to reach straight through the screen and wrap around me.

A small grin spreads across my lips. “Of course,” I agree with a nod. “I love you both so much and I’ll talk to you later.”

They echo my loving sentiments before my finger finds the button to end the call, hand raised in a wave before the screen goes black.

I sigh, head falling to rest against the back of the couch. My eyes close, body slumping on the cushions, curling up and wrapping my blankets around me until they block out everything.

Sleep falls heavy and deep and fraught.

A rustle awakens me. My head pokes out from beneath the blankets to catch sight of my phone and illuminate the time. 3:07 AM. I groan—a quiet, grumpy grumble. Shifting my hips, I attempt to turn over and find sleep once again.

But. I can’t.

Confusion chases sleep far away. Peeking further from my cocoon of blankets, I glance around. Dim light from the entryway illuminates part of the room, enough to make out the lumpy figure situating himself atop me.

“Bucky?” I question with a croak, reaching out and expecting the figment of my imagination to vanish.

Instead, my hand finds the coolness of his scales.

“Sugar plum,” he whispers, voice tight and pained.

Startled by his tone, I push up under his weight—or at least attempt to—eyes scanning him for injury before they glance around the room, looking for his luggage.

“What’s wrong?”

“Have you been sleeping out here since we left?”

The deep voice startles me, heart leaping in my chest. Gaze jumping to the hallway, Steve stands, arms crossed, backlit by the light of our bedroom.

My lips part, ready to defend myself, but the only statement that leaves me is, “The nest was too big without you both.”

The minotaur strides over, burly arms open wide, scooping me up from the couch as Bucky follows, gathering the blankets in his arms to redistribute in the nest.

“But your meetings and conference,” I protest, glancing between the two of them as they walk back toward our room.

“You needed us.” Bucky shrugs.

My mouth shuts, silenced by the sincerity and rigidity of his statement. Heart full, near to bursting in my chest, I wrap my arms around Steve’s neck. Even as he descends to place me in the nest and release me, my grip remains firm.

“Will you both just hold me for a little while?”

There’s no response, but later in the day, when the sun sits high in the sky, I wake again, still ensconced between them. Spirits brighter, cherished and safe.

The ping on my phone alerts me to the time of the year. So I watch. Looking for the signs—the itching, the discomfort, the stretching. All pointing to one thing. And then I find Bucky on the couch one morning, body writhing and face scrunching in discomfort.

Before taking one step further into the room, I spin on my heel to grab the small basket sitting at the top of the linen closet which holds all the supplies I will need. When I return, his eyes flash toward me, wide and pleading with a quiet desperation. An understanding smile spreads my lips.

“You know I’ve always got you, B,” I coo, setting the basket on the table and sitting close.

His arms wrap around my waist, clinging to me while I unfold a towel and lay out a special bottle of lotion, a box of gloves, and tweezers. He hums, a sibilant murmur against my skin. I bite back a giggle. The gloves slip on, snapping into place.

My fingers brush over his forehead. Careful, comforting strokes to calm his mind. I press a kiss to his cheek and turn back to pump a small bit of lotion on the latex of the gloves.

“Spread out for me, Buck,” I instruct, voice low and gentle.

He sighs, stretching his long body over the sofa. His tail dangles over the arm, pooling on the floor and stretching across the rug. His eyes close, a shuddering sigh spilling over his lips as I reposition, finding the patches of dried skin peeling at his waist where skin meets scales.

“Are you ready?” I ask, glancing up to catch his eye.

He nods. I press one more kiss to his hip and begin.

It’s a slow process, peeling away the dead layer of snakeskin to reveal the new underneath. A little tedious. But, oh, so rewarding.

Bucky struggles to remain still, rolling beneath my touch and mewling as each new sensitive sliver is exposed. It’s soothing, for both of us. Rolling away the dead skin in a long swath toward the end of his tail. The intimacy of the act binding us together. His vulnerability and my tenderness.

I remember the first time he asked for my help, three months after we met, a study session interrupted by his discomfort. It was the first time he’d shed away from home without his family to help him. It took all my patience and concentration, terrified of hurting him. But he’d thanked me so profusely, it had struck my heart and left us tied together—cementing our blossoming friendship.

By now I’m a seasoned professional. Only a handful of times since that first where I’ve been unavailable for his shedding.

It dawns on me, a quarter of the way past his hips. “I should call Steve so he can hurry back from his run,” I propose with an encouraging quirk of my brow, “He might wanna be here for this—help out.”

“I like when you do it,” Bucky retorts, almost before I finish my thought.

I hum, head tilting, looking to the naga for elucidation.

“He—” Bucky pauses and shifts, hissing in delight as my hands stop to rest on newly exposed scales for a moment to prevent ripping while I’m distracted. “This makes him nervous. Nearly passed out when I asked for his help when we first started dating.”

“Oh,” I mutter, recalling my recusal once Steve moved in—for all of three months before Bucky begged me and I was powerless to deny him. “I didn’t realize that.”

“You’re always gentle and I don’t want to make Steve uncomfortable.” Bucky’s chin dips toward his chest, cheeks tinting with the slightest pink blush.

“And you know I’m always happy to help,” I reply, loving hands skimming up toward his hips. I scoot forward, close enough to brush our lips together. “And, now, there are so many perks to the job.” My eyebrows waggle in playful innuendo.

Bucky smiles, his hands reaching to cradle my cheeks, claws tickling my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Just this.”

He slants his lips over mine, deepening the kiss with a flick of his tongue. I smile against his mouth and return his ardor, letting him bask in my affection. Only pulling away when my lungs scream for air. His teeth nip at my jaw, chuckling while I giggle and draw away, returning to my task.

“How long?” I inquire, voice dropped to a shy whisper. My eyes flick up, darting away again when they catch Bucky’s gaze.

He stays silent for an elongated moment, groaning when my hands pull away a particularly sensitive section of dead skin along his belly scales, “Probably since the first time I talked to you.”

My hands freeze. “Really?” The word bursts past my lips, cheeks heating at the realization. My gaze drifts toward his scars, tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “You were still dating Ophelia then, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he sighs with a sad shake of his head. “You made me realize I wanted more. That I deserved more—better than whatever she gave me.”

A response refuses to form in my mind or on my tongue, struck speechless by his declaration. I had never realized—never would have guessed. I work in silence, mind perseverating on his statement.

His head tilts back as I come to the end, the tip of his tail sensitive and quivering. Delicate fingers strip away the last of the dead skin, the whole coil of his tail removed in one pass.

The cool slide of lotion over his scales allows my thoughts to solidify with each caress of my hands. And the sounds Bucky makes, titillating and tantalizing tumbling off his tongue—I’m a goner. My eyes flick to his lips, parted on heavy breaths.

Discarding my gloves in haste, snapping the latex until it rips, I surge forward, capturing his lips with mine. My fingers weave into his hair, scratching at his scalp and clinging to him. He gasps into my mouth in surprise, melting into my kiss and moaning. I swallow each delicious sound, satiated by the heady thrum of each against my lips.

When our closeness proves insufficient, I move, straddling his tail and sighing as it wraps up in the couch behind and around me.

Bucky’s palms find my cheeks, warm and tender. He pulls away, keeping me still when I try to follow the retreat of his lips. His thumbs brush across my skin, swiping away the tears spilling from my eyes.

“I love you,” I warble, voice thick in my throat.

“I love you too, my sweet sugar plum.” Bucky leans forward, pressing a kiss to each of my eyelids as they close for him. A kiss to my cheeks, my forehead, my chin—until I laugh at his antics and wipe away the rest of my tears.

His hands fall to my waist and my shoulders, cradling me close for a while, ensnaring me entirely in the warm weight of his body.

“Steve,” I ask, elongating the syllable of his name in my curiosity, “what’re you doing?”

The minotaur huffs a breath, tongue clicking in dissatisfaction at the bowl in his hands. He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder, grumbling something explicit before glancing over at the tablet resting on the recipe stand. A slimy finger reaches over, illuminating the screen, a recipe staring back at him.

Approaching from behind, I glance at the instructions, brows raising toward my hairline as I see the decadent confection and the accompanying directions. Looking a little advanced, even for me. My hands brush up his shoulder blades, wrapping gently over his chest and pressing my face into his fur.

“Stevie, I love you, but you know you’re not supposed to use the kitchen unsupervised after the Christmas cookie kerfuffle,” I coo, stroking my hands over the fur under his apron.

Steve puffs an agitated noise, surely rolling his eyes at my comment before glancing over his shoulder at me. Finally. My head tilts up, a cheeky smile spreading over my lips.

“I can help you, if you want?”

His brow furrows, thoughts flashing across his gaze, a debate over accepting my offer. He sighs and shakes his head.

“I want to do it myself,” he mutters, glancing at the recipe before looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Make something special for you and Bucky for our first anniversary all together.”

My heart melts in my chest, warmth and affection flooding my veins. I nod, pecking a kiss to his back and smoothing my hand down over his stomach.

“Li’l one,” he lows, hand clenching tight on the bowl in his hand before it sets on the counter with a clatter, “you’re gonna distract me if you keep that up.”

A noise squeaks out from between my lips. Fingers freezing in their place, resting over his lower abdomen. “Sorry,” I blurt, retracting my hand.

“Sorry, my ass,” Steve grits, twisting around and grabbing my face in his sticky hands.

He bends, stealing my breath with his fervent kiss. I hum and surrender, basking in his devotion. A saccharine taste sits on his thick tongue as it plunges past my lips. I hum, a pleased sound disappearing into his mouth. He grunts and moans, pushing deeper, demanding more. My fingers weave into the fur on his arms, holding myself steady. My knees wobble beneath me, sinking into the decadence of his kiss.

Steve steps forward, his hands snaking down to my waist, cradling me in his firm grip. And I can’t bring myself to care about possible stains on my clothes or the sticky mess that’ll become of us. He lifts me, swallowing my gasp, and spins.

My rear finds the counter, just beside his workspace, his body caging me in until he surrounds me. I whine, hands dancing across his flesh feeling the softness of his fur and legs wrapping around his narrow waist. I drag him closer, eliminating the very thought of space between us.

“Steve,” I sigh into his mouth, dragging a needed breath into my lungs.

“Yes?” he murmurs, lips traveling along the length of my throat, sucking and nibbling at the skin.

My mind blanks, struggling to find the words which had just moments ago sat on my tongue. My chest heaves, brushing against his. Blinking, I try to recapture my thought, drifting away as the seconds tick by. With my silence, Steve pauses. He straightens, leveling our gazes and cupping my neck in his warm palms.

“What do you need, li’l star?” His words, soft and deep tingle in the back of my mind. A delightful itch scratched by his timbre.

I inhale once, twice. Pounding pulse calming to a stable cadence, I smile and brush my nose against his in an affectionate caress.

“I love you.”

His eyes soften, a slow smile spreading across his lips before he leans close and presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. My heart flutters in my chest.

“I love you, too.”

His grip loosens on my body, though he stays close. We breathe each other in—touching, tasting—drowning ourselves in the intimacy until we’re satisfied.

“You should probably get back to your dessert,” I suggest with a laugh, glancing at the half made batter.

He grunts, lips seeking one last delightful kiss, before returning to his bowl. I remain with him—seated on the counter, wrapped around his side while he follows the recipe. If a suggestion leaves my lips to improve his form or prevent a mistake, he only smirks and follows the direction, stealing a peek at me from the corner of his eye or perhaps another peck from my lips.

The dessert makes it way into the oven, the time it takes baking spent exchanging kisses and caresses, ears half listening for the timer, but lost in our own little world. And that night, when the three of us sit around the table, feeding each other bites of sweetness and grinning at each other like idiots in love, it’s the best thing we’ve ever tasted.

Watching her enjoy herself is the best way to pass time. The lights flicker overhead, music thumping through the air. And she’s in the center, glowing like a beacon and dancing to the beat.

Steve sits beside me, his thick arm wrapped around my waist, my tail wrapped around his leg. Head resting on his shoulder, his voice thrums through me, a vibration that soothes when others agitate. The song changes, a softer, sensual beat. My muscles relax. Steve presses a kiss to my crown.

Sam returns to our large cushioned seating area, a smug smile on his face. “You know, they said you forgot to register when you came in tonight.”

“That’s not possible, of course I did.” My brows pinch, ire building in my chest. The glare darkening my features doesn’t faze the man in the slightest, his body leaning back on a cushioned chair and smile secure on his lips.

“Or you were too caught up in love,” Sam posits, a suggestive wink sent my way while he points over his shoulder toward her—my girl, Steve’s girl, our girl.

She catches us watching her. She waves. My heart flutters.

“It is possible, Buck,” Steve murmurs in my ear, squeezing me close and nuzzling against my neck.

I grumble in response, eyes scanning the club and the creatures enjoying their night—avoiding Sam’s chortling and Steve’s amused gaze.

And she keeps dancing, Natasha close by, brushing aside—or sometimes downright scaring off—unwanted intruders on her fun. Our girl wraps her hands around Natasha’s narrow waist, exchanging secrets while their bodies sway. My lips twitch toward a smile, admiring every glimpse of my sugar plum, even from far away.

“There he goes,” Sam teases.

But it doesn’t matter because she’s leading Natasha back to our spot and draping herself across our laps. Like magnets, my arms find her, drawing her closer while Steve keeps her steady. She giggles, the sweetest sound tinkling in my ear, and presses a kiss a breath away from my lips.

“What’ve you boys been up to?” Natasha asks, taking her own seat beside Sam and crossing her legs. He wraps his arm over her shoulder and she relaxes in his embrace, tucked against his chest.

“Probably talking about the two of you,” Clint remarks with a huff, placing a tray of drinks on the low table and rolling his eyes.

Natasha’s brow quirks, a comment whispered into Sam’s ear while she takes a sip. Elation sweeps over the man’s face, his toothy smile lighting up his features while he nods to her suggestion.

“Did you enjoy yourself out there, li’l star?” Steve asks, his voice low, captivating both of our attentions.

She nods, a happy sigh billowing past her lips. A sparkling sheen of sweat coats her body, her temperature higher than normal from her exertion—but still perfect, always perfect.

Steve leans forward, bringing a glass of water to her lips. She swallows greedily, fingers playing with the fur on his forearm. My own stroke over her sides, relaxed in the moment with them both.

But then a familiar face in the crowd catches her notice. She pushes the water away and scrambles to stand. Our special guest tonight finally making her appearance.

My stomach sinks like a leaden weight, a wave of emotions dousing the sweet bliss of our evening.

“Wanda!” she calls, rushing to embrace the dragon, wrapping her arms around her waist—avoiding both wings and tail—joyous exclamations bubbling past both their lips.

A familiar pain blooms in my chest—pulsing, hollow. The light that sparkles in my girl’s eyes when she’s with her friend, the soft affection staring back at her. A slow kiss presses to her cheek. And I have to look away.

“So,” she says turning to us, “Everyone, this is Wanda.”

Sam waves, Clint nods, Natasha welcomes her, and Steve clutches me tighter before introducing himself. I swallow down the reawakened emotions threatening to pull me under, forcing a smile and small wave.

“Bucky!” Wanda cries, noticing my presence and coming over to embrace me.

I stand and accept it, letting the dragon wrap her arms around me, catching a glimpse of my girl over her shoulder and the joy radiating from her pores. She reaches out her hand to me. I grip it like a lifeline before she pulls away.

“Long time, no see, Wanda,” I greet, fingers tingling with just a touch from my sugar plum. I press them together, trying to keep that hint of warmth alive. “How’s your business doing? And your brother, Pietro?”

Wanda’s smile brightens and she takes a seat. I follow her lead, only half focusing on the rundown of her life after college. My eyes instead flick to my girl, seeing her beside her old roommate, images of the past flashing before my mind’s eye.

It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. It’s not like back then. Not at all. Our girl loves me, loves us. I’m not hiding from it anymore. There’s no threat. It’s fine.

But my pulse thunders in my veins, drowning out the noise of the club. My temperature drops, too much exertion without the reciprocal heat. I wrap myself around Steve—making half-hearted comments when necessary—and observe.

“Are you alright?” Steve whispers in my ear, holding me tighter against his chest.

They’ve all gone to dance, Wanda wrapped up in our girl, giggling and smiling just like they used to. Clint and Sam prance around them, dragged along by Natasha, who spins the men ever closer to her. Only vaguely does it pique my interest that Sam and Nat seem to be luring Clint into their web. An amused smirk quirks at the corner of my lips before disappearing. About time.

“Hey. Buck.”

A warm palm rests on my cheek, fuzzy and familiar. Steve averts my gaze from the floor, though my eyes can’t help but peek back and back and back.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” His lips press to my forehead, unlocking the gates that allow the truth to burble out of me, babbling like a brook.

“I always thought she should end up with Wanda.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air, sitting between us. Steve’s eyes soften. His lips purse.

I swallow against the lump in my throat and continue, “They were always so happy around each other, so perfect. All through college, I figured they’d get together.” My gaze falls to my hands, claws scraping against Steve chest, trying to find a tether. “Wanda even asked me to put in a good word for her once.” The dry smile strains my lips. “And she never knew. Never even noticed either of us.”

“Our oblivious girl,” Steve sighs, the words tinged by pain—one we both recognize.

“Bucky? Steve?” Our girl stands before us, hand outstretched. Her skin glistens with sweat under the lights, her breaths heavy. She needs a break from dancing, but it’s more than that. Her eyes shine with it. “Is everything alright?” Her brow pinches with concern. She steps forward, cupping our cheeks in her hand. I relish in the touch, clasping my hand over hers, refusing to let it be taken away. “Tell me what’s wrong?” she pleads in a whisper.

My eyes flash from Steve to our girl and over her shoulder where Wanda waits on the outskirts of our lounge area. The dragon’s head cocks to the side, eyes analytical, examining every movement we make.

Our girl just waits.

The words to explain myself don’t form, caught up in my head with no way out. My lips part and nothing follows except an unsteady huff of air. Bright eyes soften, thumb sweeping over my cheek. She turns to Steve.

“Will you be alright?” she asks, leaning to press her forehead to his.

His hand cradles her neck, a small nod of his head and a calm smile. “I’ll be fine, li’l star.”

Her head bobs and turns back to me. She stands at her full height, hand held out in offering. The way she looks at me. My heart stutters.

“Come here, noodle.”

My claws wrap around her hand—knowing I’ll never let go and finally realizing she doesn’t want me to.

I sigh, a weight lifting from my chest. Watching them weave through writhing bodies, they find a dark corner away from the lounges and dance floor. Perfect for a hint of privacy, yet still in my line of sight.

Bucky wastes no time, wrapping around our girl. Their bodies press close while she comforts him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear and stroking his hair away from his face. Sipping my beer, I glance at the bottle, picking at the label and shaking my head in shocked relief. Guess our girl isn’t so oblivious anymore.

“You know, I never thought she’d end up like this.” Wanda stands across from me, her arms folded over her chest and tail swishing behind her. She leans on her left leg, glancing over her shoulder at the scene the two loves of my life make in their little corner.

“Why’s that?” I ask, reaching up to push my hair back, still not used to the new length. My knuckles bump into my horn and rattle the beads in my braid.

The dragon just shrugs, lips pursed around some thought she refuses to share. She sits on the cushion adjacent to me and leans back, perusing my figure with a slow appraisal.

“Where did you come from?” she inquires, eyes igniting with curiosity.

“What do you mean?” I place my empty bottle on the low table and lean my elbows on my knees. Bracing for an inquisition.

“I know Bucky,” Wanda explains with a wave of her hand, stare unwavering, “they met through an undergrad general ed class. But you?” She smiles, the expression not reaching her eyes. “How did you meet our little treasure?”

I swallow the unease that spikes at her tone and blatant term of endearment, taking another glimpse of the two still lost in their little world together. Ensuring their safety and seclusion. A breath huffs from my nose when I turn back to the dragon.

“We both work at Stark Industries,” I explain. Her brow quirks, smugness painting her features. She must know she’s goading me—taunting the bull, as it were. I fight back the seed of jealousy and possessiveness that blooms at the back of my skull and threatens to overwhelm. Red tints the edges of my vision, but fades with a few blinks and a deep breath. “We struck up a friendship before I started dating Bucky and then it became the three of us. And that’s all she wrote.”

Wanda hums, picking up an unclaimed glass of water from Clint’s tray and sipping. Her gaze rakes over me—that analytical scrutiny granted so liberally tonight. Yet it doesn’t threaten me, doesn’t shake my confidence. Even if it does piss me off.

I clear my throat, a friendly smile forcing its way across my lips. “So, how long will you be in town this time?”

“Indefinitely,” she replies, not a blink or shred of tension in her body. The muscles of my jaw tick, but I keep my calm, pleasant veneer shining and steady. “I have a few contacts here that are helping me extend my business into the city. It’s why my visits have been more frequent as of late.”

“Congratulations,” I intone, rolling my shoulders to release the tension building up my spine.

Wanda doesn’t reply. A trait to which I’ve grown accustomed with my exposure to Natasha—seems my little star really enjoys the strong, silent types for friends. But something is different with the dragon. An intrusion I can’t quite place. My teeth clench tight, unsure of how to proceed. Wary of alienating one of my girl’s best friends. Yet unable to shirk the growing strain between us.

Wanda levels me with her gaze, a deep breath expanding her lungs. She sits forward, advancing as she does the conversation by asking, “Do you love her?”

“Unconditionally,” I respond, the word immediate on my tongue. My eyes stray again toward the two in the corner, still wrapped up in each other—quite literally. “I love both of them with all my soul.”

She follows my line of sight, glancing between us. Her head tilts and her tongue clicks before a sweet smile illuminates her features. “Good.”

My brow quirks, confused by the change in her demeanor, the softening of her shoulders as she relaxes. A sheepish blush tints her cheeks as she shrugs.

“I’ve known Bucky’s adored her since college,” she confesses, scooting closer to lower her voice, though still audible even with the reverberation of the music. “But she called me crying on more than one occasion when the two of you got together. I thought for sure she’d never recover.” A flash of sorrow glints in her eyes, a soft sigh spilling past her lips.

My heart jumps to my throat, muscles screaming at me to rush over and sweep them both into my arms. But I stay still, knowing she has more to say by the way she plays with the cup in her hands.

“When she told me about the three of you, I couldn’t believe it.” Her head shakes and her eyes dart away. “I wanted to make sure it was real, for her sake.”

“And now you’re satisfied?” I inquire, dipping my chin in an effort to catch her gaze.

“Honestly, I knew the moment I walked in and caught sight of her.” Her lips tilt in a small smile, taking a sip of her drink. She chuckles. “I’ve never seen her so happy. Don’t need dragon intuition for that.”

I hum and nod my head in agreement, glancing once more toward the corner. Where the scene has turned unpleasant. The “excuse me,” has barely left my lips before my feet find their path. Cutting through the dance floor, the people and other beings parting like the Red Sea, deterred by the threatening glare fixed on my face.

“Come on, we could have so much fun together,” a very drunk harpy insists, their talons shining around both of my loves’ wrists. They sway on their feet, but no refusal seems to penetrate their inebriation. “I got this great bed back at my place.” They hiccup. “Suspended by bungee cords. We could rock the treetops all night long.”

“Get lost,” Bucky hisses, his eyes narrowing at the pushy creature. Our girl hisses for quite another reason, talons tearing at her delicate, human skin.

And I see red.

An angry, feral sound rips from my chest, drowning out the music around us. My hand clamps on the harpy’s wing, wrenching them back until they chirp in pain.

“You get away from them, so help me gods.” The words pierce through my lips past gritted teeth. My overwhelming outrage the focus of my world.

The harpy sputters, hands waving through the air once they release their grip. Their shouts of protest draw attention. A bouncer saunters over, assessing the situation. But I’m still seething. All I see is my little star’s wrist, dotted with her blood. I huff and turn, blocked by Bucky—our naga explaining the situation to security.

“I’m alright,” she says, cradling her arm to her chest, reaching out gentle fingers to scratch through the fur at my cheeks.

I press my face into her caress, breathing her in and taking her hand in mine. She steps closer, pecking a kiss to my other cheek and catching my eye. Bucky’s hand smooths up my back and over my shoulder, turning me toward him. His hands cradle my neck, tongue flicking through the air.

“There’s our tough guy, right when we need him,” Bucky praises, his kiss finding my lips.

I breathe deeply, wrapping my arms around them both and tucking them as close as possible to my chest. “Time to go home,” I grunt.

“Pass me that bead, li’l one,” Steve murmurs, concentrating, fingers tangled in soft brown tresses.

“Course,” I reply, reaching back over the edge of the bed and plucking it from its resting place. The grooves of the carvings stimulate my fingertips. Curiosity piques and I turn toward the minotaur as I hand it over. “What do the markings mean anyway?”

“Yeah,” Bucky echoes, turning his head despite our boyfriend’s protests. He hisses when Steve tugs on his hair, directing him back to look forward. “You said you would tell us.”

The corners of Steve’s lips lift in a smile. “Patience,” he counsels, slipping the bead into the braid at the back of Bucky’s head.

With a displeased hum, I reach up, fingering the beads already adorning my own hair, woven in by the same caring hands. Different grooves, each bead with its own symbol—runes carved by elder minotaurs and their apprentices, bestowed upon Steve for this purpose.

“Are you almost done?” the naga whines, shifting to find a more comfortable position. His tail reaching out to wrap around my ankle.

I chuckle, moving carefully from my place beside him to straddle his lap and keep him still. My lips press to his cheeks, his temples, his eyelids, his chin. A self-indulgent desire perfect for my purpose in the moment.

“When’s it my turn?” Bucky asks, winding his arms around my waist and keeping me close. His tongue darts out, scenting the air and flicking against my cheek.

A giggle bursts from my chest, hands batting him away. He chases, giving in to predatory instincts, nuzzling against my neck and lavishing my skin with sloppy kisses. Steve’s hands pause, close to the ends of Bucky’s braid, a soft, adoring look shining bright in his eyes.

“I love you two.”

We both turn. My heart spreads warmth through my chest. I lean up, meeting Steve’s kiss before letting Bucky do the same.

“I love you two, too,” I sigh, fingers skimming along Bucky’s chest and up Steve’s furry leg.

Bucky hums happily, giving Steve just enough time to tie off the braid and lay it gently over his shoulder. The naga plucks at the strand, iridescent beads glinting under the lights and scattering rainbows over our walls.

“My turn?” he asks, gaze darting between Steve and I until we agree. The sound that twitters in his throat compels an answering giggle from me. Joy lighting up his eyes.

My back hits the blankets situated at the bottom of our guest bed as he slithers out from beneath me and rushes toward the door.

“Come here,” Steve murmurs, hand grasping at my arms and hauling me up beside him.

I hum and yield to his strength, allowing him to place me where he chooses, across his thighs and tucked against his chest. His lips trace over my skin, even the ticklish parts. I squirm. And he keeps lavishing me with affection.

“My li’l wifey,” he croons, fingers playing with the sparkling beads in my hair.

“We haven’t finished yet, you goof,” I reply, chuckling at the incandescent happy daze clouding his gaze. A pot clatters in the kitchen, my focus diverting toward the door. “Bucky’s still gotta share his surprise with us.”

Fingers tilt my chin back toward the minotaur, his lips pecking mine. “You have no idea how happy the two of you are making me.”

“Not half as happy as the two of you are making me,” I reply, pressing my forehead to his. Our beads clack together, the sound the most glorious thing I’ve yet to hear. Tears well along my waterline and I sniff them away, pushing against Steve’s chest for some air and the illusion of space. “Gods, we’re sappy. I can’t handle all of this. You’re just determined to make me cry, aren’t you?” A smile spreads across my face, hands wiping at my eyes.

“I got it!” Bucky cries, returning with a bowl and spoon in hand. He pauses in the doorway, face dropping into concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect.” I sniff, hand held out to bid him forward. “Come here and get in on this loving.”

Bucky’s smile shines bright and eager. He pounces on us, careful not to spill the contents of his bowl and snuggles close. His tail wraps and wraps and wraps, eliminating any hint of space between our three bodies.

Steve and I look to him, full of expectation and ready for the significance of the moment. A blush creeps up the naga’s neck toward his cheeks.

“I don’t know if I did this right,” he confesses. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, bowl clutched in nervous hands. “But I called my mom and she said that this is—”

My finger presses to Bucky’s lips, stopping his nervous chatter with a gentle shush. My lips meet his cheek, peeking down at the contents of the bowl.

“What did you make for us, B?” I ask.

“It’s just a trifle recipe that I thought we all would like,” he replies, brow furrowing in thought. “But that’s not the important bit.” His hand raises, waving the small, intricately designed wooden spoon in front of our eyes. “It’s, uh, this. I carved it and now I’m supposed to feed you.” His voice drops, a quiet hesitation, words lilting like a question.

“We’re ready whenever you are, bubba,” Steve coos, running a soothing hand along Bucky’s spine.

A trembling hand dips the spoon into the bowl, scraping up a mouthful of cream and cake and custard and confection. Steve’s lips part, accepting the bite into his mouth, a sinful moan praising the flavors. The spoon escapes his pursuing tongue to dip again into the dessert. Bucky raises the spoon for me. Staring into his eyes at the glimmering hopefulness in his gaze, my lips quiver as they part. Emotions, overwhelming and complex, rush through me—relief, euphoria, serenity.

Glancing between both of them, realizing the weight of the traditions performed for me, tears prick once again at the backs of my eyes. Reaching out to touch their arms, for a little bit more connection, I confess, “I wish I had something like this to share with both of you.” Fingers trace over their limbs, waiting for a response, unable to meet their gazes.

Claws tickle my jaw, tilting my face up. A sentimental smile sits on Bucky’s lips. Steve’s head rests gently on my shoulder, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

“All we need is you.” Bucky leans closer, kissing my face, returning the favor from my earlier affection. Unable to resist, I huff a laugh at his antics and grasp his wrists.

“But if you really want one, we’ll make one. Just the three of us,” Steve offers, his cheek nudging against mine.

Breathing deeply, I lean back against him, dragging our naga with me. We sit in silence for a moment, both of them letting me contemplate my decision and how I would like to proceed.

“I think,” I start, pausing while my thoughts gather into coherence, “I would like you to tell us what these runes mean.” Steve chuckles. “And I want Bucky to keep feeding us.” My tongue sneaks out to lick my lips, Bucky’s eyes following the movement with rapt attention. “And I want to stay wrapped up in the both of you for the rest of the night.”

Bucky’s sibilant hum of agreement merges with the deep timbre of Steve voice.

“We can do that.”

“Good.” Reaching over to pat Steve’s chest, I prompt, “Now tell us all about these beads.”

Steve’s arms wrap around my waist as Bucky releases me to grab his bowl again. Their warmth envelops me. And I know it’s as close to heaven as I can get on earth.

“It’s a rather simple process, really,” Steve explains. “Minotaurs petition for an interview with the elders. It’s held to prove their devotion to their betrothed before granting sacred beads, especially to outsiders.”

“Wish I coulda been there,” I murmur around a bite of dessert, cheeks puffing up with my smile.

“He probably had a speech,” Bucky says, a smirk sitting pretty on his lips.

“Oh, he definitely had a speech,” I crow with a laugh. My head shakes with mirth, sighing. “That’s our hubby.”

A beat of silence passes, all of us relishing in our new relation to each other—decreed by ancient minotaur rites and naga traditions. As official as any gaudy ceremony.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” I say, breaking the tender stillness.

“You only asked me for something I already wanted, li’l star.”

I turn my head, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. Bucky holds out another bite for us to eat and we continue.

“They asked all about both of you,” Steve reveals. “I told them everything. And they gave me these.” His fingers reach out, finding the beads in my hair and then Bucky’s, touching each with a reverence I don’t completely comprehend. “Love, light, life,” he says, reading the runes strung into our naga’s hair. He returns to mine, voice heavy with emotion. “Darling, dream, destiny.”

My breath hitches in my lungs. “You think I’m your destiny?”

Conviction, devotion stare back at me, brilliant on Steve’s face. “We were written in the stars, li’l one. You brought us together. Everything we are is because of you.”

Bucky nods his agreement, spooning the last bite past my lips. I chew and swallow, thankful for the moment to collect myself and my thoughts.

“How long’ve you had that prepared, huh?” I ask, sniffing away the far too easily formed tears from my eyes. Tears of joy, brushed away with little effort.

Steve smirks but doesn’t reply, a cheeky glint in his eyes. The bowl and spoon are set aside. Strong arms adjust our place on the bed, the frame creaking under our weight.

“I’m thinking we might want to move to our nest now,” Bucky suggests, wary eyes glancing toward the headboard and baseboard.

With swift agreements from Steve and I, we all move. My husbands refuse to let me go for even a minute—truly committing to my request.

And I can only smile, so blessed to have found this sweet nugget of happiness. These two monsters loving and cherishing me, committing to me for all our days.

We snuggle together in our nest, the comforting, warm, familiar blankets wrapping around us until we’re lost to the world. Steve and Bucky hold me tight, a promise to never let me go—past the morning light, past the next day, all the way to the end of the line and then some.

#stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #monster au #monster x human #monster x human romance #minotaur steve rogers #naga bucky barnes #fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #mild angst #minors dni #18+

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ijustwant2write · 2 years

Text

Strip Your Weapons-Bucky Barnes x Reader

(GIF credit to @vii-5)

MASTERLIST

Summary: Bucky and reader are finally home form a mission which can only mean one thing for the lustful couple; until a few things get in their way.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Slight smut, mention of weapons, little swearing

(A/N: Very short blurb, just a little idea)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"That was way too close, doll, we shouldn't have been so reckless." Bucky heavily breathed.

"I know, but we're fine, we're home now." (Y/N) was equally out of breath.

"Urgh, this strap is too tight, can you help me loosen it?"

"Of course." (Y/N) was instantly at the strap.

The couple had just returned from a brief but dangerous mission. It hadn't been their best work but they got the job done. However, instead of reporting back the headquarters, they had sped home, almost knocking down the front door in the process; they were both in dire need of each others bodies.

"Does that not restrict your breathing?" (Y/N) asked as she undid the strap, Bucky visibly relaxing.

He pulled her in by her hips."Think I can handle it."

He smashed his lips against hers, (Y/N)'s arms wrapping around his neck as she tried to balance, having to go on her tip toes to keep the kiss going. They stumbled together towards the bedroom, (Y/N) cheekily ending the kiss and jumping onto the bed. However, she let out a help as she landed.

"You OK?" Bucky's mood snapped to concern.

She wriggled around on the bed as she sat up, trying to figure out why she was uncomfortable. She realised that she had spare bullets in a pocket of her trousers. Without saying anything, she emptied them onto the beside cabinet, laying back on the bed to indicate she was ready to get back to it.

Bucky grinned as he towered over her, only to stop and realise that he too had some things he needed to dispose of.

"Um, doll, I don't want to interrupt this, but we should probably get rid of a few things."

"Oh." (Y/N) smirked, stripping off her top.

Bucky gasped inwards."Not what I meant, but I'm not complaining."

(Y/N) laughed as she realised what he meant, he could listen to that sound on repeat."Oh yeah, that's probably a good idea."

They both stood, starting to discard of their weapons. Their actions were still quick, sharing lustful glances at each other. Once (Y/N) was completely free of anything that could hurt either of them, she helped Bucky shed the rest of his before pushing him down on the bed, straddling him before he had fully fallen onto his back.

"Ow!" (Y/N) cried a second time.

Bucky's hands held (Y/N)'s hips, steadying her from falling."What?"

(Y/N) sighed as she reached into Bucky's trousers, pulling out a small pocketknife.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, it was just a prick."

"Sorry, I thought I got rid of that."

(Y/N) carelessly threw it behind her, hearing it clatter and slide across the floor. Her head dived down to Bucky's, resuming their...activity once again.

"Have you got something new on for me?" Bucky asked as hus arms snaked around her back.

"Hm?"

"Your bra feels different."

(Y/N) paused, reaching around her back as well."Oh for gods sake."

Her hand revealed three circular devices, the ones they threw onto vehicles that they needed to track.

"Why are they on your bra?"

"Didn't have enough pockets."

"Is that definitely everything from us both?"

"I think so."

"As much as we both just want to get to it, we should probably check."

The couple groaned, not wanting to postpone the inevitable any longer but they knew someone was going to get hurt. There were clangs and thuds as they took off smaller, intricate and James Bond worthy gadgets hidden in more unusual places. Every so often they would glance at each other, causing them to start laughing hysterically.

"I'm sure the others don't pack as much as we do." (Y/N) giggled.

"We're prepared for anything." Bucky pointed out.

"Over prepared more like."

By the time they were really finished (and they triple checked), they perched on the edge of the bed, looking over all their weapons and gadgets laid out on the floor.

"This has got to be a Guinness World Record or something. Surely no one else carries this much with them?" (Y/N) said.

"I don't think it's a good idea to publish what and how many weapons we have on us." Bucky nudged her gently.

"Hm, that's true."

Silence.

"Are you tired?" (Y/N) asked.

"Only if you are."

"Well are you?"

"A little."

"Shall we just lie down for a bit then?"

"If you want to."

Neither of them moved.

(Y/N) fluttered her lashes at him."You think you have some energy for at least one round?"

Bucky's head snapped to look at her."I have energy for more than that doll."

"Oh, it just seemed that you were tired."

"It sounded like you were tired."

"I'm not."

"We don't have to if you are tired."

(Y/N) pulled Bucky down with her."Let's not waste anymore time than we already have."

#Bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes imagines #Bucky Barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fan fiction #Marvel #Marvel imagine #Marvel imagines #Marvel one shot #Marvel x reader #Marvel fanfic #Marvel fan fiction #Marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fan fic

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

Warnings: *SMUT* FINALLY // PORN WITHOUT PLOT // QUICKIE BUT NOT SO QUICK // Bucky Barnes knows how to make you scream his name

A/N- The part in italics are your thoughts (pretty sinful ones), ahem ahem.

Please find all the links to the other parts in the Masterlist.

"Are we not going to talk about how you just kissed me and now you're just sitting there pretending you never did," hearing Bucky grumble like a grumpy, old man only made you snicker even more.

"What's there to talk about? I felt like doing it, I did it."

"I see."

You frowned, your reaction feuled by the way Bucky had just accepted, and withdrawn himself from the banter. A part of you was disappointed, you wouldn't lie to yourself, bickering with Bucky Barnes was an important ritual of your daily life now and him shutting up now only worked as acting fuel to your fire.

"That's it?"

He smirked, leaning back against the wall, with one foot resting against the wall, "Yeah, I'm done. I'm not feeding those demons inside you. You just feed on my words."

"You did not just say that to me."

"I did."

"Oh yeah?" You growled at him, a low throaty growl, right from your throat, and he just shot you an impassive stare, pretending that he was least affected by the tiny outburst. Secretly, he was enjoying it; so much, he could already feel himself growing hard in his jeans.

"Well, are you going to do anything about it, doll?"

You could feel the cold breeze brush against your cheeks, but you still felt flushed, and hot. You nervously blinked, finding yourself in an inexplicable situation; well not entirely inexplicable; you knew what you were suddenly feeling, but a part of you knew that the path your body suddenly wanted you to tread on, was unexplored inhabitation, and who knew what would happen next, if you maybe just, for once, gave in.

You lifted your eyes, real slow, until you were looking at him.

Bucky Barnes had looked at you a many times before; but he wasn't just looking at you now. If he was just looking, why would you suddenly feel heat creep into your insides and slowly churn your stomach? Why would you suddenly start feeling shy, when you had never felt an ounce of shyness around him before? In the dark corners of your mind you knew that the both of you should have talked about this, about what this madness was, but standing there, smirking at you, his thick, broad arms draped over his chest, he made it so hard for you to think straight. You mentally cursed yourself, for your mind and your body to suddenly betray you, your mind spinning now the way he was looking at you, and your body suddenly yearning to feel his touch.

"Are you?"

Real smooth, Y/N.

"Do you want me to?"

His games and his words were going to be the death of you.

"Shouldn't we be heading back?" You mewled, in a low voice, almost looking away but he just mumbled something; words that you couldn't decipher.

And then, you started zoning out, everything started fading, and your mind started racing.

You bit your lip, a little too hard, for you could now taste the metal on your tongue, when you saw him move away from the wall as he started walking towards you. Finally, having closed the distance, he was standing inches apart from you, and you couldn't see past his burly form, not that you wanted to.

"Well, you've shut up," he smirked, looking down at you. "You never shut up."

"Well, dumbfuck, I know I never shut up, but with you standing right on my head, I can't think." You mumbled, almost inaudibly, hoping he wouldn't hear your mouth disobey your brain as you kept blurting out things you had locked back somewhere and didn't want to let out.

"Well, you can start by talking about how I was checking you out at the gym." He was groaning into your ear, sending jolts of tiny surges of electricity rushing through your body.

"Bucky-"

"No prick? Dumbfuck? Jackass? Just Bucky? What's the fun in that?"

"You're all of them but right now -"

"Right now what, doll?"

Bucky was gone, atleast he wasn't facing you anyway, but you could feel him and hear his voice someplace behind you. And you only gasped, a low, sudden yet embarassing sound escaping your lips when you felt his body up close, behind you. You let your eyes shut, parting your lips as a gush of anticipation escaped your lips.

"I can't think."

It was as if you could literally picture him right now, a look of triumph on his face, a low smirk resting against his beautiful lips, the lips that you wanted to feel again, on your lips, your thighs, and many other places.

"How does it feel now, being on the other end of the line?" He smirked, his lips slowly attaching themselves to the side of your neck, his metal arm sliding across your waist until he pulled you even more into him, from where even you couldn't ignore that growing hardness in his pants.

"You cocky piece of shit." You cursed, relishing his touch, almost leaning back your head against him as he continued peppering your neck with his tantalizing kisses, "even now you can't stop this, can you?"

"Well, I'll stop if you want me to."

You knew you were going to have mouth sucking bruises into the side of your neck, but if only you could ask him to stop.

"Stop, Barnes, " your mouth finally blurted out.

A low moan of disappointment escaped your moist lips when he actually listened to you and moved away, your body immediately reacting to the loss of his touch. You turned around and you could see he was smirking, a faint reddish hue on his cheeks, but a youthful, boyish charm twinkling in his eyes.

"Are you gonna stand there all day and give me those weird googley eyes?" Bucky's voice snapped you back into reality, and you realized that he was standing there, his hands on his hips, his.foot tapping impatiently against the gravel. You wondered how long you had been zoning him out, lost in your own little sinful world, that belonged to only you and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and now, for some reason, you couldn't look at him the way you did before.

"You're incorrigible, James Buchanan Barnes. You're the most annoying, infuriating, anger infusing man I've ever met."

He just chuckled, and you couldn't help but laugh a little too, it was just required, to ease the throbbing you were feeling down your core, and to distract your mind from what just happened a few seconds back.

"You're the most psychotic, lunatic, weird, and sexiest woman I've ever met." He mumbled, sheepishly running his hand through the back of his head.

"What the fuck Barnes? You think I'm psychotic? Oh, I am weird? Like you aren't."

"Did you even listen to anything I just said, woman?" He said, skewering his head to one side in an annoyed tone now.

"Yeah, you just called me psychotic, weird, lunatic and sexy, oh..."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Your mind swivelled in directions you couldn't control, and your insides churned in ecstacy as Bucky's hard thrust inside you made you throw back your head and let out a low pitched moan, your voice only acting a buffer for him to thrust even harder causing the walls of the shed to groan, as your back hit against it, again and again.

"Next time you call me a jerk, or a prick, just think of the ways this prick can make you moan his name." He grunted, pumping himself into you, again and again relentlessly, as he had you propped up by your thighs, your feet locked around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders, and at times, tugging at his hair.

"Barnes," you began, only to bite down hard on your lip and let out a scream, almost calling his name, "Fuck."

"Say that again, doll. The way my name rolls over your lips," he hissed, groaning right against your ears, adding fuel to the already building up intoxication that your body was feeling, feeling Bucky inside you.

You were already feeling it, your body beginning to rock, and your toes were beginning to curl inwardly, the little shed behind that garden now echoing with the sounds of skin slapping against each other and high pitched gasps, moans and grunts, when all of a sudden, your phone began to ring, loud enough to snap the two of you out of it.

Although Bucky slowed down, he didn't pull out of you, right away. He, however, saw the caller ID on your screen, and a dark look took over him, as he thrusted hard into you, causing you to grab onto him tighter, his one hand snaking up your abs, up to your breast, until he was pinching your nipple.

"Why the fuck is Sam calling you?" He grunted, pushing you back, so you were now sprawled out in front of him, your legs spread out, until he lifted one leg and pulling you closer, threw your leg over his neck, his thrusts now hitting all the more differently.

"Must want to check on me."

"Cares too much for you, doesn't he?" He panted.

"Buck–" You whined; shutting your eyes as you started feeling your stomach knotting again, when your phone started buzzing again, causing an obvious frown to shoot towards the direction of the faint, glowing light. This time, it was Steve.

"You should receive it, it must be something important, doll," he mumbled, kneading the skin of your thigh against his cold metallic palm as he slid out of you, and slammed his thickness into you again,the two of you moaning and grunting when he did that. Reluctantly, you reached for your phone, but your mind was a storm right now.

"Fucking hell, Barnes. I hate him right now."

"I know," he smirked down at you, biting down in his lip, as sweat now dripped off the side of his neck, down in shoulders. God, the way he looked from down here with you pressed to him, he was beautiful and the way he felt inside you right now, you couldn't describe it. He would have asked you to rob a bank for him right now, but you would have done it, just to feel this again.

In one swift movement, you felt one of Bucky's digits rubbing against your clit, as if his massive thickness wasn't already proving to be ecstatic to you.

The phone started ringing again, making both you and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes groan, at the exact same time.

With shaky fingers, you grabbed the phone, and your eyes met Bucky. Your fingers trailed along until your thumb hovered over the green call receive icon, but before you could do it, Bucky's lips had taken over yours and involuntarily, you meted into the kiss, pushing your throbbing core as a reflex against him, while he rutted vigorously into you.

"You gonna take that now, doll?" He said in a low, teasing voice.

You smirked, grabbing the man's chin and pulling him forward, your tongue teasingly running over his plump lips, "only if you keep up the pace."

"Let's see you take that call, and take my cock at the same time."

Your smirk dropped, turning into a sinful groan when he bent down to suck lightly on the soft spot at the side of your neck. Taking a deep breath, you clicked on the receive icon, flinging the phone to your ear.

"What the hell, Steve?"

You raised your eyebrows, noticing him stiffling a laugh, so you just gave him a good glare, nudging him to move faster. Bucky's movements were painfully slow; and teasing, and you couldn't wait for Steve to disconnect so you two could go back to finish off what you had started.

"You've been gone all day. Everyone's been worried, Wanda checked with Lucah, but he won't receive her call. What's going on? Where are you?"

You were sure Bucky could practically hear Steve Rogers screaming at you from the other end of the line right now, even if you were not on speaker.

"I went shopping," you muttered in a low, irritated voice, closing your eyes, letting your head rest back against the wall of the shed, your free hand raking through Bucky's hair, your head almost swivelling and your eyes rolling back in pleasure, as you felt the tip of his cock tease your folds before his girth slowly sunk into you again.

Reflexively, a low moan escaped your lips, and your eyes widened in embarassment; as you quickly masked it with a grunt. Bucky was smirking at you again, and this time, relishing that you were the one that had turned ten times redder than a tomato.

"What was that?"

You looked at Bucky, your eyes widened in alarm, and he just shrugged in the most nonchalant way.

Fucking bastard.

And then, he won't stop. Not that you wanted him to, but between Steve's annoying voice pounding into your ear, and Bucky's swollen cock thrusting into you, you didn't know what to say.

"I tripped, Steve."

"You tripped? Really?"

You looked up at Bucky, and he mouthed Steve's words back at you. He was laughing at you, he was so enjoying this.

"Yes, I tripped, over a fucking dead body."

Bucky couldn't hold it in anymore, and he let out a snort, causing you to throw out your palm towards him, pressing it against his lips.

"What was that?"

"Jesus Steve, the dead body was snorting cocaine."

You were part annoyed with Steve but on the other hand you couldn't stop chuckling to yourself, imagining what Steve's face looked like, reflexively , you swatted Barnes away, a sudden feeling of losing contact with him hitting you hard, when he slid out of you. You only stood up, the pads of your feet grazing against the soft grassy ground, as you motioned for Bucky to sit down on a crate, while you mumbled something into the phone.

Pushing Bucky back, you climbed on top of him now, closing your eyes, as you entered him again, feeling his thickness fill you up completely. You literally had to press your palm against your mouth to refrain from screaming.

"You're being weird, (Y/N)."

"Jesus, Steve, I'm busy right now. I'm, uh , waiting to get the dresses I bought billed at the counter." You lied, arching your body, letting your head fall back, his cold metallic and non metallic fingers tugging at your nipples, as you relentlessly rolled your hips and circled his cock.

Your pussy was already beginning to clench, and your body had began to shudder. You knew your high was close, but Steve wasn't ready to disconnect. This was the most embarassing, and annoying night of your life.

"Well then, I'll see you back at the –"

"Yeah, bye Steve, I'll see you.. Fuck, Barnes, God–"

You felt mortified, frozen to the spot. You felt traumatized.

Eyes widened, you looked down at Bucky, and he was smirking up at you, the look on his face that clearly said that you were so busted.

"Oh God, no. That wasn't what I think it was, was it? You and Barnes? You and Bucky?!!"

You groaned, and rolled off Bucky, his thick warm cum sliding down your thigh, and you buried your face into his chest, flustered, still groaning; needing to hide your face at what had just happened. You felt him take the phone off your hand, and his thick voice started ringing into your ears.

"Punk. You really have the worst timings ever, don't you? You've really embarassed my girl."

You could feel Bucky looking at your form but you were beyond flustered to look up and face him, but you didn't miss it this time, the minute he said those two words; his girl.

"Yeah, there's nothing to talk about this, I'm bringing her back, and would've brought her back sooner, had you not disturbed us." There was amusement in his tone, so you finally looked up at him, and Bucky's palm flew to your face, his thumb now stroking over your cheek, and you found yourself smiling at him, the smile warm and heartfelt.

He pulled the phone off his ear, tossing it away, and sat up, holding you against his lap. The two of you were sitting in an awkward , uncomfortable position, with you sitting on Bucky's abdomen, your legs on either side of him, and him holding you by your dainty waist, but it didn't matter.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" You mumbled, looking up at him.

"I think you held him off really long, besides I can't blame you for screaming out my name, it did feel really good."

"Shut up, Barnes."

You stood up, grabbing your discarded clothes that lay on the ground, sliding into your panties while you could hear Bucky shuffle around, the sound of his belt jingling into your ears. For some reason, you felt at peace, and this sort of felt nice, not fighting with him for once, not wanting to rip his face off.

The two of you walked out of the shed, your hands entwined with each other's, and you slowly craned your neck towards him, raising a brow.

"What are we telling them? That I just managed to trip and fall on your dick?"

Bucky chuckled, pulling you closer, inkling his metal arm so he was now holding you by your waist, "tell them we're taking it slow, seeing how things work out. I'm sure they prefer us fucking , rather than us trying to wage war against each other."

You were looking at Bucky so intensely, trying to listen to his words, let them sink in, that you didn't notice a man walking towards you. Neither did Bucky. You were so engrossed, for you had never heard this man talk of those times, infact, he had never said anything remotely closer to you than curses and grunts. This felt refreshing.

"Well, look who's here."

A voice snapped you back into reality, a frown creasing over your forehead.

"Wallis?"

(Any thoughts? 💦)

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@really-dont-forget-it

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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scribeofmorpheus · 4 years

Text

Covet of the Wolf [2]

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Warnings: language, references of blood and injury.

A/N: I do love using Peter as a shenanigan plot driver, he’s so dramatic I couldn’t resist. Some characters from the previous series will begin to take backseat because i’m juggling waaaay to may characters. lmfaooo.

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

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“Peter,” Derek all but growled. You could picture his snarl without having to look at his face.

The dark silhouette stepped out of the shadow, “Hello, lovers.”

It was indeed Peter. Older, silver streaks growing in places that weren’t there the last time you saw him. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and wide—unsettlingly so. He cocked his head to the side, that shit-eating grin of his lining the skin around his lips. He seemed smaller somehow. Thinner.

You swallowed. The anger you felt towards Derek and your little—or perhaps big—argument was shelved to the back of your mind.

Derek marched down towards Peter so they stood on the same even ground. This wasn’t at all how you’d pictured their reunion. A hug may have been too much of a fantastical notion, but a handshake at the least seemed appropriate. They did neither, simply staring each other in the eye as if speaking through the flinches and blinks.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked.

“What?” Peter held up his hands to show he bore no ill will. Then he reached into his back pocket and waved a card with delicate calligraphy letters on it. “I was invited.”

Derek snatched the card, “This is my invitation card. Did you break into my loft?”

“Can’t break in if you know where the key is,” Peter walked around Derek and headed for the homestead. “Best go greet the stunning brides to be. Y/N.” He tilted his head at you.

“Peter,” you half-smiled. It was a relief to see he was alright. The current situation, however, not ideal. You didn't know how to react, so you let the Hale's do all the reacting.

Derek grabbed Peter’s elbow, “What are you really doing here, Peter.”

Peter shrugged then winked, “It’s like I said. I’m just here for a wedding.”

The tub was warm, reminding you of warm summers swimming in the lake as a kid. Your skin had started to prune, but you also knew that once you got out the tub, that meant facing Derek. Facing the tension.

An unexpected knock at the door made you gasp. Derek’s voice had that mix of concern and soft-spoken weariness: “You alright in there?” He wanted to make up. “I got towels.”

You glanced at the stack of towels on the shelf by the soap and smiled, “Come in.”

He opened the door slowly and walked with a low hanging head. He sat on the edge of the tub, not making eye contact.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he ran his hand through his hand, the curling ends were still a foreign sight to see. They did shape around his face beautifully though. “I guess being here, with all the… I just forgot what it was like.”

“What what was like?”

“Being around family…feeling like a part of one.”

You took his hand and kissed between the dips on his knuckles, “Just so we’re clear, I’m not saying no. I just don’t think we should be thinking about marriage when we still don’t know the full effect of the mark.”

You kissed the bandage hiding his mark. He recoiled subtly, pretending to shift to a more comfortable sitting position on the floor.

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you—”

Derek grumbled, head leaning back onto the tubs walls, “Of course it bothers me. It itches a little.” He smiled warmly.

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I meant. If the mark didn’t bother you, why do you get all prickly around Peter? And don’t tell me it’s always been that way…You avoided talking about him the last couple of months and now that he’s here you practically looked like you were ready to tear his throat out. Why?”

Derek shrugged, “It’s Peter.”

“Derek,” you sighed.

“Okay, I just…He never shows up out of the blue for no reason.”

“Maybe he missed you.”

Derek huffed, “I’m sure he did.”

You snaked your wet arms around his neck and whispered low, “I know if I didn’t get to see your handsome face for a long time, I’d be really, really lonely.”

Derek craned his neck so his lips were close enough to feel the heat of his cheeks and lips. You indulged in his open invitation and kissed him, deeply. Derek found your hand and laced your fingers in his.

Maggie and Caleb were arguing about something in her room, you had been busy checking boxes, making sure everyone was dressed and all the flowers were in the right places. Derek and Peter hadn’t been seen all morning. You imagined they were out in the hills arguing or something.

Jonah needed not one but two shirt changes because he kept getting them stained. The first stain was jam and the second was a coffee stain. Jonah didn’t drink coffee, but he did like peddling it out as a bribe for something. Esme had taken over Markus’s room for the day and Markus had returned from the airport with Stiles.

“Stiles,” you hugged him warmly, a frown pulling on your face. “I thought you were bringing Lydia?”

Stiles winked and pulled out a tablet, “I am, she’s just going to be a couple thousand miles away.”

You shook your head, “And they say romance is dead.”

“I’ll just go set this up in the barn quickly,” he smiled like a goof from ear to ear.

Maggie looked gorgeous in her dress, you had to run up to her room to drag Caleb by the collar away because they kept fighting over the pettiest squabbles. Derek and Peter reappeared just in time for the start of the ceremony. Neither looked too pleased. Derek made every effort to seem okay. You could tell he wasn’t. Even Stiles was behaving suspiciously around him, whispering with a frown of his own when they were together. Derek’s habit of secret-keeping was getting under your skin.

If you had had time to think, you would have found everything a little strange, but there was barely enough time left to get dressed before the ceremony started.

You couldn’t reach the zipper at the back of your bridesmaid dress. It was green, not a lime green that was too bright or a forest green that was too velvety and dark; the dress was almost deep emerald, not silky in material and tight. Maggie was never one for body-hugging dresses, she enjoyed wide felt skirts, and her preferences showed obviously in her choice of bridesmaid dress.

Out of nowhere, Derek’s warm hands met yours and he whispered something as he helped zip you up: “Green is definitely your colour.”

You blushed, the reflection in the mirror was breath-taking. Derek in a dark suit with no tie and an unbuttoned collar. You in the dress that complemented his human eyes. His large hands on your waist. The flush of your cheeks matching the shade of lipstick.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” you turned around and tugged his suit jacket. “We should take a picture. Commemorate the moment. Something tells me it will be a long time before I see you in a suit again.”

“Hmmm,” he leaned in and kissed you. “You’re hard to forget. Especially today.”

The first bell tolled.

You pulled Derek with you as you left the room, “Come, we should get to our places.”

The ceremony was small, simple in a delicate and intentional way that could be described as classy. As Deaton officiated, everyone was thrown off when Esme had been the first to shed a tear during the vow exchange. The red ribbon that bound Maggie and Esme’s right hands was the only vibrantly rich colour that stood out. Caleb explained it was a homage to hand-fasting.

Stiles sat next to an empty chair occupied by his tablet, Lydia, who dressed for the occasion despite being miles away, watched through a laggy video chat connection.

The reception was quieter. A few people exchanged jokes and Caleb got hilariously drunk on white wine. You were a little tipsy yourself, snuggled next to Derek who smelled of a rather expensive cologne you weren’t used to.

Peter looked bored, so you ventured over to pick his brain a little.

“Peter,” you announced yourself as you sat down on the empty chair beside him.

“Don’t you look radiant today,” he sipped whiskey.

“Where’d you get that?”

“You’re family has quite the collection of alcohol in that alcohol cabinet of yours.”

You leaned close to whisper, “We aren’t supposed to steal from Dad’s cabinet.”

“Well,” Peter sipped his whiskey slower, savouring the taste. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You noticed he wasn’t wearing a bandage to hide his mark.

“You want to see it?” Peter raised a brow.

“What?”

“The mark.”

You looked over at Derek, he was in the middle of having a one-sided conversation with Jonah. You felt guilty but you didn’t know why.

“Yes,” you nodded.

Peter rolled up his sleeve. The mark was still—no longer moving under the skin. A raw colour, pinkish-red like a rash. The symbol was familiar to you. You’d seen it somewhere, or at least an iteration of it.

The crows from Deaton’s photograph, you realised. A double spiral.

You were drawn to the symbol, wanting to touch it, hoping it would hold all the answers if you just reached out…

Without warning, everyone’s heads pulled up, nostrils growing larger and then smaller. A werewolf tick. It was only the non-supernaturals that didn’t react; you, Stiles, Deaton, Maggie and Caleb. Them and Peter.

“Right on cue,” Peter took his final drink of whiskey.

Derek stood from his chair, an accusatory stare burning imaginary holes in Peter’s skull.

Peter reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a stake. He tossed it at Derek, “You’re gonna need that.”

“What did you do?” Derek’s eyes glowed blue, the stake shaking in his fist. The commotion drawing everyone’s attention. Your stomach churned and you felt nauseous.

“I may have run into some trouble,” Peter shrugged. “You weren’t answering my calls. I needed a little help.”

“So you led them here?” Derek moved quick, suddenly Peter’s shirt was bunched up in Derek’s fists. You sat back down. Vertigo getting the better of you.

“Can someone explain what’s happening?” Stiles asked the room.

Derek hissed, letting go of Peter’s shirt to grab his arm.

“It’s the order…” you whispered in realisation.

Stiles threw his hands up in the air, his next words coming out loud and exasperated: “I thought they weren’t a problem anymore.”

Peter frowned as if innocent, “See, I thought so too. But apparently, something crawled out of a very old box when we killed the old man walking around in my little nephew’s brain. And Astrid tells me it’s a sign of the end of days. Blah, blah, blah. So naturally, some wanted revenge. I—I may have overestimated my…ability to handle things and…well now I’m here.”

Maggie stood up from her chair, anger turning her skin a terrifying shade of red, “So you used my wedding as bait?”

Esme grabbed Maggie’s hand as if to hold her back.

“Safety in numbers,” Peter winked.

The barn doors flew off their hinges. Everything happened so fast. Snarls, slashing claws, a few curse words exchanged like it was Secret Santa. At one point, one of the last remnants of the order got close enough to Caleb to slash at his belly while he shielded Maggie. Out of the blue, two other people arrived, both men and both friendlies from what you could tell. One had a greying beard and short sandy brown hair. He was holding a shotgun because it would seem the Hale's didn't have any friends who baked or had a more domestic hobby than werewolf hunting. The other younger of the two was handsome, with sad eyes that drooped like a puppy's. They were a werewolf yellow, a colour you’d only ever seen on Jonah. His were more intense. Brighter. At one point, you thought you heard Stiles mutter the name, “Isaac.”

You didn’t care, there was no time to care about anything other than Caleb. You rushed over to Caleb’s side to tend to his wound. It was then, as you held his stomach and had trouble breathing that you realised just how beautiful he looked in his blue velvet suit.

The ringing in Derek’s ears was superficial. The sharp stabbing pain it brought to his ears meant nothing next to the chaos unfolding in the room.

The white cloth on the joined dining tables was soaked on one end, a deep red, almost black under the candle light in the barn.

Derek’s heart beat rapidly. He hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time. Was it hopelessness? Fear? Dread? All of them at once?

Instinctively, his hand sought after yours. He could feel you, smell the faint scent of your perfume, behind him. But you didn’t take his hand.

Derek glanced behind him and saw you there, applying pressure to Caleb’s gut wound. Shock in your eyes. A look he swore to himself you’d never wear again. Not while he was by your side. But there it was, wide eyes and quivering lips failing to stay shut behind a clenched jaw. And this, all this destruction. The blood. The weeping brides—one out of anger, the other out of desperation. The blood soaked table cloth. And a severed head held in Peter’s hand. All this happened because of him.

Derek looked down at the mark that could pass for a rash on his arm. His claws extended and he tried to cut it out. But it simply healed back to normal.

This was all because of him. Him and that damned mark.

Standing beside him, unseen by all except Peter, was Alyster.

Dead Alyster living in Derek’s mind. Incorporeal, but all the same there, knocking about in his grey matter.

“Today was meant to be a happy day,” Alyster spoke with a faint shiver of regret. His voice contained to Derek’s consciousness. To the supernatural mark. Alyster’s face held a sadness permanently plastered to his drooping, lined eyes. “It would have been. If you had listened.”

Blood meandered from Derek’s nose to his chin. That smell. He knew that smell. It was pungent, earthy. The smell of decay. And it was coming from the severed head in Peter’s hand.

Suddenly the head began to mummify, skin turning leathery, cheeks sunken to the teeth.

Someone screamed, maybe it was Jonah maybe it wasn’t. A retch or two, some disgusted sounds. But Derek couldn’t focus on anything. His senses were running rampant.

Peter dropped the head. It didn’t land with a squelching sound. It didn’t land at all. Before it reached the ground, it turned to dust. Millions upon millions of finite skin particles reduced to a puff of dusty brown.

“You’re an asshole, Peter,” Derek was panting, his words wheezy.

“You should have answered my calls,” Peter’s face was glistening with sweat. “Jerk.”

Peter’s nose bled too. He didn’t seem to fight the pain. But Derek did. He held out, for as long as he could. Then, like lead balloons, both Peter and he fell. The mark burning like hellfire.

A connection severing from the collective. One of many considering the other dust piles on the floor.

Members of the Order of Sagittarius had just been killed.

And it was by their hand. Again.

#teen wolf #motw sequel #derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #tyler hoechlin #peter hale #stiles stilinski #alan deaton #isaac lahey #chris argent #derek hale imagine #teen wolf imagine

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my-emotional-self · 4 years

Text

The Soulmates Chapter 7

Moodboard by @princess-evans-addict

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: swearing, fluff, smut, drug use

Summary: Being born with the words of two soulmates was rare, and you were one of them. You had no idea that when you started a new job as Pepper Potts’ personal assistant you would end up finding both of your soulmates. Things start off great, but what happens when Steve and Bucky find out about your double life and your side job?

The following morning, you still had to get some shopping done for your new outfits for work and much to your demise, Steve and Bucky didn’t want you going alone to the mall. As much as you tried, they tagged along.

“Umm, I’ll just meet you guys back here by the food court in an hour,” you stated, hurrying off before they could even respond.

You didn’t dare look behind you to see if they were following you and by the time you reached the store you were looking for, you sighed in relief to see they weren’t, in fact, following you. Entering the lingerie store, you began to search around the store before an associate came up to you.

“Nikita! It’s good to see you hun. Can I help you with anything?” she asked with a bright smile.

Yes, she used your stage name, only because you didn’t want to give out your real name and you always paid in cash at this store.

“Actually, I’m looking for a little something rock ‘n roll,” you replied. She gave you a wink before motioning to a section of the store in the back. There, you found yourself staring at a bunch of leather lingerie and you knew this was what you needed.

You grabbed a pair of red leather underwear off the rack and knew it would be perfect. “Let me know if you need help finding else,” the associate said before turning and helping the next customer.

After about twenty minutes of browsing, you found everything you needed, plus more, and went to check out.

Looking at your phone, you saw you had plenty of time and headed to a few more stores. Hot Topic was your next stop where you found some Metallica, Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park t-shirts. They would be easy to cut up and rather comfortable to wear on stage as you grabbed a few of each. The last stop you made was to a wig store, needing something new. You bought a long red wig, along with a short bobbed black wig.

~~~

“Do you see where she is going?” Steve said as he and Bucky watched you from a distance, hiding behind a few fake planted trees.

Bucky smiled, giving him a nod as he saw you walk into the lingerie store. “Oh yeah Stevie. We’re going to be in for some fun.”

Steve scrunched his brows, looking at his soulmate. “What do you mean?”

Bucky scoffed next to him, lowering his head. “Stevie. I have so much to teach you.” His brows furrowed even more as Bucky let out a loud chuckle. “Steve, she’s going into a lingerie store. That pretty much means nothing but sex.”

Steve’s mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape before turning his gaze back to the store. “But don’t you think it’s weird that she was in a hurry to go shopping by herself? I mean, I would have loved to go with her and shower her with any gifts she wanted to get.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, leaning his arms over the ledge of the bannister. “I don’t know. I mean, all girls are a little different. Maybe she doesn’t want us to spoil her with gifts,” he said, letting out a huff. “I know that’s what girls were like in our time, loving to be spoiled with presents and gifts. But today, some women like to be independent when it comes to that and maybe she’s like that too. You have to remember Stevie, we’re just starting to date and we still have a lot to figure out about her. She’s still pretty closed up when it comes to personal things such as her family.”

Steve nodded, clasping his hands together as he leaned his elbows along the ledge of the bannister along with Bucky. “I know. It’s just, something seems off with her. I just get this gut feeling that she’s not telling us the truth. Like with helping her friend at that night job. Something inside of me is telling me that she’s lying.”

“Do you want to confront her about it?”

Steve sighed, lowering his head. “I don’t know what I want to do about it.”

~~~

You met with the guys back at the food court and Steve quickly took your bags from you. At first you didn’t want to give the bags over to him, worried he would see what was inside, but he was relentless and you had to remember that Steve was a true gentleman and you handed over your bags to him.

The three of you went to a quaint little bistro for lunch before heading back to the compound. While you were used to dancing in very high heels, walking around in boots for hours was a different story and your feet were hurting.

“I’m going to take a bath if you don’t mind,” you said as you took your boots off; your hands massaging your feet.

“Go ahead and relax doll,” Bucky said, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips as Steve placed your shopping bags in the corner of the living room.

Heading into the bathroom, you locked the door and placed your purse on the counter and opened the small pocket on the inside. There, you saw the small bag of cocaine staring back at you. You knew this is why you didn’t want to take this drug home with you; why you didn’t want to leave the club with it. But you were in pain on your feet and you didn’t have any pain killers with you, so you decided to hell with it and took a quick hit.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt your body begin to relax as you wiped your nose, closing the small baggie and placing it back in the pocket of your purse.

Shedding your clothing, you got into the tub and relaxed as it began to fill with the most amazing warm water you had ever imagined feeling coating your naked body. Giggles began to erupt from your mouth as you dropped a bath bomb into the water; your eyes growing wide as your fingers gently touched the bubbles; your high relaxing you that much more.

There was a knock on the door and you sat up, startled. The door opened to reveal Steve standing there; a sheepish grin on his face. “Hey beautiful. Bucky and I were wondering if we could shower while you bathed?”

Biting your lower lip, you gave him a nod. Both Bucky and Steve entered the bathroom and they began to shed their clothing as you lowered yourself into the tub; your legs clenching together at the sight of both of them naked in front of you.

You watched as Bucky turned on the shower before the two of them entered. The shower stall had glass walls and you inwardly groaned at the sight of them naked in front of you; water running down their toned bodies. The drugs in your system wasn’t doing anything to ease your discomfort between your legs as you felt ten times more turned on than usual.

Trying to focus on your own relaxation, it didn’t work as well as you wanted to as your eyes wandered to their bodies; naked and washing one another. You couldn’t help but feel excluded and with the confidence running through you, you got out of the tub and opened the shower stall; standing naked in front of your soulmates.

“I was feeling lonely,” you said shyly, looking up at them through your long lashes.

“C’mere doll,” Bucky husked out, pulling you into his embrace as his lips attached to yours. Your fingers combed through his shoulder length hair, earning a growl from him.

Steve came up behind you as you felt his cock beginning to harden at the base of your back; his own hands cupping your breasts. He was getting braver, that was for sure as you felt his fingers pinch your nipples making you buck your ass into him.

You pulled away from Bucky, gasping for air as your hands trailed down his hard chest. Lightly, you gripped his hard cock in your hands and began to stroke him. “Fuck doll,” Bucky grunted, his head falling back against the tiled wall as he closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of your hands on him.

“Take me from behind Steve,” you nearly begged as you began to bend at the waist so you could kiss Bucky’s stomach.

Immediately Steve gripped your hips as you parted your legs. “Shit, I don’t have a condom,” he spoke with concern, but you didn’t care at this point.

“It’s fine baby. Just pull out.”

That earned a groan from both your soulmates. Bucky’s hands tangled into your hair as you felt Steve’s hand at your lower back. Just as you took Bucky into your mouth, Steve slowly entered you from behind. You had never felt more grateful for a large shower than this moment right now.

You were completely full, from both ends and you were loving it. Bucky’s grip on your hair tightened, making you clench around Steve and he cussed. Between the sexual acts and the hot shower, it was getting harder to breath; the water washing the sweat from all of your heated bodies.

Steve’s hand snaked around your front, playing with your clit and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Wanting Bucky to come in your mouth at the same time as you came, you took your right hand and began to fondle his balls; a moan escaping your mouth as Steve hit a particularly wonderful spot inside you.

Your head was bobbing up and down with haste as you felt your orgasm approach. “I’m going to come doll,” Bucky rasped out, his breathing ragged as you picked up your pace, matching Steve’s. Your toes began to curl, using your left hand to brace against the shower wall as your orgasm rocked your body just as Bucky spilled his seed into your mouth.

“Fuck!” Steve roared behind you, finding his own release as you clenched around him. He pulled out of you as you felt him come on your backside; the water from the shower washing it away at once.

As Steve pulled out of you, you felt your knees grow weak from all the heat. With quick reflexes, Steve caught you before you could fall; your cocaine high now gone.

“Too….hot….,” you stammered out and the boys quickly shut the shower off and helped you out of the shower. They wrapped a large white fluffy towel around you and opened the door to the bathroom as you felt immediate relief from the cooler air of the apartment.

The three of you cooled and dried off. Bucky handed you a pair of boxers and one of Steve’s shirts as your soulmates each put on a pair of boxers. Getting in the middle of the bed, Steve and Bucky snuggled up on either side of you and you fell asleep watching a movie; a smile on your face.

~~~

The following morning was Monday and Pepper was back in town. After showering and dressing in a pair of black skinny jeans, dark pink tank top and white cardigan, you made your way over to the main compound and grabbed coffee for yourself and Pepper.

Heading up the stairs, you saw Pepper already working away. Setting the coffee down in front of her, she looked up and smiled at you.

“Good morning Rosalie,” she said.

You smiled back, giving her a nod. “Morning Pepper. I hope you had a good trip,” you replied.

She took a sip of her coffee before responding. “Oh it was all business so it wasn’t too fun, but it went smoothly. How did Friday go? Steve and Bucky weren’t too demanding were they?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking back to not only Friday, but Saturday and yesterday too. But it soon dawned on you that you hadn’t exactly told Pepper that Steve and Bucky were your soulmates. Your heart began to speed up, worried what she would think. Would she fire you because she might think they would be a distraction? Already having to lie to your soulmates about your ‘double life’, you didn’t want to add anymore lies to your life.

“Umm, Pepper, there’s ah, there’s something I need to tell you…about Steve and Bucky.” You were nervously fidgeting as you chewed on your lower lip.

“Is it about being soulmates with them?” Pepper announced easily.

Your eyes snapped up to hers, mouth hanging open. “How…how did you know about that?”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Oh Rosalie. Ever since your first day here and you met them, you are all they can talk about. They’ve already told the whole team about you and how they finally met their other soulmate.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Rosalie why would I be mad about that?”

You shrugged, looking down to the ground. “I don’t know. I didn’t know if maybe you thought they would be a distraction or not.”

She folded her hands on the table, giving you a soft smile. “This job is very laid back. Yes, this is Stark Industries we are talking about. But to be honest, we are all just one big family and I see you as part of our family now. And not just because you are the soulmate of Steve and Bucky. I’ve gotten to know you the past two weeks and you fit in so well. In fact, the rest of the team will be here next week so I actually need you to work on preparing for that. They are having a big team meeting all day so I will need you to order in catering for breakfast and lunch. You will also be sitting in on the meeting taking notes as well.”

You let out a breath of relief, giving your boss a nod. “Yeah, not a problem on at. I’ll go get started on that right now.”

Sitting down at your desk, you relaxed your shoulders and smiled. You had yet to meet anyone from the team, except for Steve, Bucky and Bruce. You were nervous to say the least, but excited to finally meet everyone. But those nerves were quickly replaced with dread. Tomorrow you started your new five days a week shift at the club and you didn’t know how the hell you would be able to keep up with everything. Worry etched across your face as you placed your head in your hands; elbows on the desk. Refusing to get out of your deal with Tommy, you were worried you would need to quit this job as it would be too much.

After too much thinking, you thought ‘fuck it’ and got to work. You would do whatever it took to work both jobs. You would do whatever it took to keep your night job a secret until it was all over.

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wittystarkk · 4 years

Text

The Last Five Years || Bucky Barnes || Part Seven

author: wittystark

word count: 2.8k

relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

chapter title: A Summer In Ohio

A/N: Reader is in Ohio for the production of a script she'd written, and she misses her new husband.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

(Y/N) groaned when her phone reflected her own face at her, Bucky’s name in white font set across her forehead and “Dialing…” in smaller white font underneath that. She was sat on the uncomfortable mattress in her rundown apartment for the summer, exhaustion setting in after two miserable days of poor sleep and too much work. Her legs ached from swimming across the lake the day before, attempting to relieve (or rather, escape) her stress from the director of the play forcing her to rewrite the entirety of the second act. She wanted to brain the director to death with her laptop, and the fact that she was unable to talk to Bucky for two consecutive days wasn’t helping the problem.

The moment he told her he was free she’d pressed the “FaceTime” button on her screen so fast she had hardly been aware she’d actually done it. Now she was sitting in jittery anticipation, listening to the dull dings of the ringer.

When her phone changed from “Dialing…” to “Connecting…” her entire body tensed, her bottom lip tucking between her teeth. Bucky’s handsome face finally appearing on her screen made her heart ache with longing underneath her ribs. “Hi, baby.”

He gave her a wide smile, his whole face lighting up. “Hi,” He shifted a bit on the bed he was lying in, reaching across his body to pull the string to turn on the lamp. She smiled, being able to see him better. She’d struggled with having to leave him back home in New York, had hardly been able to part with her newly betrothed but the knowledge that he was now only a phone call away was comforting her just a tad.

“How was your press yesterday?” She wondered, standing up from the mattress on legs that ached in protest. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep herself from letting him become aware of her sore muscles.

“It was nothing special. I was bored most of the day, being shuffled from room to room. I wish you were here,” he added on as an afterthought. She frowned a little at his comment, slipping her feet into the tattered old Toms that were discarded beside the front door to her apartment.

“I wish I were there with you too, babe. But instead I’m here in Ohio, withering away.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead, melodramatically acting as if she were going to die.

“Hey, babe. Remember I’m the actor here, don’t come for my job.” He teased with a wink, watching his wife closely through the screen of his cell phone. “Where’re you right now?” He wondered, noticing the background behind her changing.

“I’m walking out of my little apartment on the edge of camp. Though, really, it should be called a fucking hut the thing is so run down.” She sighed, walking past someone she knew, carefully angling the camera so that Bucky could see the man behind her. “That’s Carl, one of the other adults here. Has dwarfism. He’s playing a role because he fits in with the children so easily. He’s kind of a grump and I am certain he hates me,” She informed Bucky who laughed.

“(Y/N), c’mon. I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

She panned the camera back to herself, nodding her head confidently. “No, he does. If it were up to him I’d be off of this stupid thing and they’d be using his play.”

“He’s a writer too?”

She nodded, “yes. In the most liberal of senses. I don’t think Carl is very literate.”

He let out a howl of a laugh, shaking his head a little. “(Y/N),” he admonished. “Be nice.”

She rolled her eyes, making a mocking face at him. “I’m being nice,” she defended as she continued walking towards the camp.

“So,” Bucky smirked. “How are you really liking the camp?”

She sighed, taking a moment to think. “It’s wonderful. I don’t think that there is anything that would beat being here. I mean, let me think. I could have a whole mansion on some hill in a remote country, and I’d be less content than I am here. I could have a satchel full of dollar bills, and I’d be like ‘pft. I shall not leave Ohio.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling amusedly at his wife. “You’re something else.”

She shrugged, “I would certainly hope so. Who would want to be normal?” She wondered. She continued on her walk, gasping loudly when a thought crossed her mind. “Oh, shit. I didn’t tell you about the stripper, did I?”

Bucky widened his eyes in shock, “what stripper? You’re at a summer camp for children.” He reminded her, as if that weren’t painfully obvious already. She rolled her eyes, lowering her hand as she passed by a group of the children of the camp, not wanting them to see her talking to her phone. When they were a safe distance away, she raised her hand again, getting an odd look from her screen.

“Why was I staring at your hip?”

She shrugged, “kids were walking by.” She skipped a few feet, stopping near the dock. “So right, anyway. Her name is Alexis, right? She lives in Columbus but apparently is trying to get herself brownie points with the judge over some custody hearing thing with her kid. I don't know the whole story. Regardless, she used to be a stripper in Columbus before she got knocked up. You can tell, too. Just in the way she carries herself and dresses. She’s pretty great, honestly. Oh!” Her lips curled in a big smile as she kicked her shoes off, settling down on the edge of the dock, dangling her feet into the water. “She has a snake too. Guess it’s name?”

“Snake?” He ventured, unimaginatively.

“Wayne,” she supplied, resting her elbow on her thigh to support her arm. “He’s kinda gross, because he’s shedding right now. And you know how gross snakes are when they shed,” he nodded his head in agreement. He was smiling an almost lazy smile, just happy to be watching his wife and listening to her ramble on about the ongoings of camp and about the snake he would never meet. “Anyway. We share a room, whenever she actually bothers to come back for the night. I think she’s sleeping with the director of the camp, but. Who’s to say for certain?”

“Who knew a children’s summer camp would have so much drama?”

Her smile was big, warming up her entire face. Bucky’s heart panged with longing, he missed her. Missed her more than he would care to let on. “How’s it apart from the stripper, and the illiterate dwarf?” Bucky wondered, shifting on his bed to get more comfortable.

“Oh, it’s just horrible.” She groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly. “I mean. Let me count all the things I would like more than being in Ohio for the summer.” She took a second to think before rattling things off. “Let’s see. Okay, I could literally shove an ice pick in my eye. This one.” She brought the phone a little closer to her eye, letting him get a good look at it before pulling the phone back to show her full face. “And it’d be better than this here state.” She grumbled.

Bucky laughed, “really?”

She nodded, “yep!”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re really a drama queen you know that? I love you, I do. But c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

“No! It really is, Bucky. I swear to God. It’s horrible. I have no cable, no hot water - you know how much I hate having cold showers. I have no vietnamese food, which. How terrible, I miss our takeout joint. Whenever I have a bad day at rehearsal with the kids, all I want to do is cuddle up on the couch with a box of takeout. And the worst part. The very worst part is.. I don’t have you, Bucky.”

Her frown was enough to make him feel sad too. For him to want to rush to Ohio on the first plane and pull her into his arms. To kiss her and rub her back and tell her how much he loved her. It was torture being away from her. It was torture for her to be away from him. It was all nonsense and if she never went back to Ohio, it would be too soon for the both of them.

She sighed heavily, trying to figure out a way to lighten the mood. She came up with nothing and he had nothing either. He could smile at her, in that award winning way of his. Her heart melted. “Baby, I love you.” He said in a soothing way. She beamed a smile back at him, the smile reaching all the way to her eyes.

“I love you too,” she responded, blowing a kiss at her phone. He grabbed at his chest, pretending like the kiss was a bullet to his heart. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the giggle that escaped her lips. He was too much for her, and she was too much for him. They were under each other's spell, and marriage proved to only worsen it.

His hand came up to rub tiredly at his eyes and she saw the glint of the simple gold band around his fourth finger. She knew that it was her ring on his finger. Her possession of him. She smiled big, “I love seeing your ring.”

He chuckled, spinning it absently with his thumb and pinky. “I’m pretty fond of it myself,” he acknowledged. The two sat there for a moment in silence, both wishing they were together before she perked up.

“So, I forgot to tell you. The other day, the other adults and I took a quick drive to Kentucky, right?” He nodded, showing that he was listening. “And we stopped at Target because we needed to get some things. Anyway, I walked in and the entertainment section was directly to the right. Which was convenient because I have to solely rely on watching DVD’s for entertainment. And I looked over and guess who the hell I saw?”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, smiling. “Who?”

“You! You were on this like, big poster thing advertising your movie. Of course I walked over immediately and grabbed a copy. Richard followed me and he was like -” She changed her voice to be snarky, “‘All things considered I guess you don’t have to buy that’. Which, first of all? How offensive is that? Like, just because you’re my husband doesn’t mean I don’t have to buy your movie? Second of all, him being snarky about it made me want it even more. So, I smiled like Mona Lisa, walked over to check out, and bought that DVD before we even started our shopping trip.”

Bucky laughed loudly, rubbing his hand down his face. “(Y/N),” he sighed. “You really didn’t have to do that. I know you were being petty and proving a point but you didn’t have to buy a copy of my DVD.”

She shrugged, “like I said. We don’t have cable so I needed DVD’s to watch on my computer. It’s a good movie, baby. Like, really good.. You did such a good job in it. I’ve seen it a handful of times and every single time I’m still in awe of you, babe. I really am lucky being your wife.”

The blush on his cheek was so obvious it almost made her giggle. “You really are too flattering, babe.” She winked at him and the two dropped the conversation of flattery.

“So, Richard. Don’t like him?” Bucky asked, bringing the subject off of himself.

She laughed, nodding her head, her hair falling in front of her face. “No, I don’t, not really. But, God. He wants me, he really wants me. He flirts with me every single chance he can get and he doesn’t make it subtle at all. He just does everything he can to get time with me. And he’s the assistant director of this camp, so it’s not hard for him to get his way.” She shrugged nonchalantly, “it’s fine. He isn’t gonna get me. I’m kind of spoken for. I have a pretty great guy, you should meet him sometime.”

He rolled his eyes at his wife, “yeah. I’ll make that a priority.” He rolled over onto his other side, placing the phone against a pillow to prop it up and free his tired arm. “Damn right he isn’t going to get you, though. You’re all mine.” He winked at the camera.

She took a moment to look his face over, sighing dramatically. “God, look at you. I mean, look at me, and then look at you. Sonovabitch, I must be doin’ somethin’ right to have landed you.” She shook her head. “Hell we aren't perfect but. We’re pretty damn close, don’t you think?”

“Damn right,” he whisper cheered.

Her head snapped to the side when she heard noises, seeing a gaggle of children running towards the lake in their bathing suits. She groaned, looking back at her phone. “I gotta go baby. I do, I’m sorry.” She sighed heavily, standing up from the dock, letting her feet dry for a moment. “Hurry up and get your ass out here to Ohio, you schmuck. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby.” He sat up in the bed. “I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too,” she replied. “I gotta go though, babe. I’ll talk to you soon.” She pressed her thumb against the red ‘end’ button and turned just in time. The children all ran past her shouting ‘Hi Mrs. Barnes’ as they made their way into the lake, Richard following behind them.

“Interesting call?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at her, seeing her phone gripped tightly in her hand.

She shrugged, “guess so. Anyway, I should probably get back and finish those last little edits to the script. I’ll uh, see you around. Good luck with them.”

Richard’s jaw was set tight, nodding as he watched her leave. She was already missing Bucky.

~~~

Two weeks later, she was drying her sweaty hands on her skirt clad thighs, watching the children all run around backstage, screaming and giggling while waiting for the cue that the show was going to be starting soon. To say she was nervous would be an understatement of the century. It was the first time that one of her scripts were to be performed in front of an audience. She’d helped with scripts in the past at the summer camp, editing here and there. Helping with dialogue occasionally. But never once was it solely her work. Never was it something that she had created and crafted all on her own.

She felt like she was on the verge of vomiting. Her hair had begun to come out of it’s neat bun, falling around her face and if she hadn’t just gotten her nails done she would have been anxiously picking at them. She didn’t know how people did this so often. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

Alexis noticed her legs nervous twitching, shaking her head a little at the bundle of nerves that was her roommate. “Listen,” Alexis said, walking over to (Y/N) with a pageant smile on her lips. “You’re not going out there to perform it, so there’s no reason to be nervous, okay?” She gripped (Y/N)’s shoulders tightly, rubbing them to calm her friend. “The kids all know their lines, and with any luck they’ll be half decent. Besides, they’re just playing to a bunch of elderly people. They won’t be the harshest of critics. Just breathe, and know your play is good.”

She wanted to smile, but all that came out was a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Alexis.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s wonderful. I’m excited to see it,” said a voice from behind her. Her entire face lit up as she shook Alexis’s hands off of her shoulders and spun on her heels, running to the source of the voice. She jumped into Bucky’s arms without a moment’s hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist while peppering his face with kisses. “Baby!” She shrieked between kisses. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her against him. “I wanted to surprise you, babe. I wanted to be here for your opening night and your first performance of your first play ever.”

She giggled, kissing him again. “You’re a wonderful husband, you know that?”

He smirked, “so I’ve been told.”

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cozycryptidcorner · 5 years

Photo

Hey! This art and story has been commissioned by the amazing and wonderful @animesparkleluv96, so if you enjoy it, be sure to thank her as well!

Tags: commissioned story, tiefling, not a reader insert, citrus.

Savannah, by all accounts, isn’t one to shy away from getting her hands dirty, tending to the garden with the same all-in diligence that she offers to every other kind of work that might cross her path. The earth feels good against her fingers, a decently refreshing reprieve from a hot summer’s day as she digs down to make sure the roots of the weeds are entirely gone, placing whatever she finds in a canvas sack for burning. Satisfied that she got all of them, she stands, brushing some of the dirt from her tunic, and takes a good look over her garden, just to be sure she doesn’t need to get anything else done.

Everything looks good, so she walks back into a decently sized cabin that she helped build with her own two hands, and heads straight to where the fire slowly eats away at the logs. One by one, she throws the weeds into the sweltering heat, watching them as they shrivel up and turn to ash, the smoke rising and twisting up in the air. Even though the temperature outside is ridiculous today, starting up a new fire would be a long and monotonous affair, so both Remembrance and Savanna both elect to keep at least a small one always running in the hearth, regardless of the season.

Still, with the sunset, a reprieve from the heat will soon follow, so Savannah isn’t much concerned with cooking a hot dinner. Tying her chestnut hair up to keep her neck cool, she begins, tossing whatever is fresh from the garden into a pan. After stirring everything around for a hot minute, Savannah hears heavyset footsteps steadily approaching the porch, and she knows who it is just by the way those boots hit the earth. Wiping her hands on a rag, she turns around to throw her arms around a large, ruddy-brown tiefling, having to stand up on the tips of her toes to press her mouth up against his cheek.

“You’re home early,” she says, turning back around to make sure nothing burns.

“Yeah,” Remembrance responds, almost awkwardly, “there aren’t too many animals out and about in the forest, so I went ahead and called it a day.”

The silence that follows is heavy with unasked questions, though Savannah has been with Remembrance long enough to know that he doesn’t speak until he fully formulates the words to do so. Now, she could beat him to the punch and ask him why he’s quiet, but she knows that pressing the matter might only lead to him closing off. He always talks to her in the end, though, even if it takes a little while for him to decide how to approach the matter. Savannah patiently turns back to the vegetables while he sets the table.

Dinner is good, Savannah surprises herself with her own hidden talent once again. Remembrance tears through the food like a starving man, as though she hadn’t packed him a generous lunch that morning. For all his talents in the garden that are on par with her own, Remembrance can barely put two different ingredients together and call it food, so Savannah is the one who cooks. Remembrance, of course, does the dishes after so it’s a good tradeoff.

“I was thinking, on my way home,” Remembrance starts as he clears away the table.

“What about?” Savannah asks, careful to put any scraps into the compost bucket.

“I didn’t really think my life would end up like this, it’s interesting.”

“How so?” To be entirely fair, Savannah felt the same, though she’s never needed to voice it.

“Well,” Remembrance looks out the window of their cabin, “I didn’t think I would be with the most beautiful and clever woman in the world, to start.”

“Stop,” Savannah tries not to blush, even as her heart does a little happy dance whenever he compliments her.

“And having a house, as another. I didn’t think I would stop living in and out of inns and barns.” He presses his hand against the table, as though double-checking it’s really there. “It’s nice to have a roof over my head whenever it rains.”

Savannah remembers when she first met him, in a pub, looking for a place to stay the night in exchange for any work needed. Without even thinking about it, or even stopping for a moment to consider what her mom might want, she volunteered the family shed in return for some chores, and he, after giving her a little once-over, agreed. He ended up staying a day over what he originally intended, and then another, and another, finding things about the house that needed fixing that Savannah and the rest of her small family didn’t have time to work on with everything else in their lives.

“I didn’t think that I would be out of my mom’s house and living somewhere with a…” Savannah places one finger on her lips, trying to figure out what words to use that might describe their relationship, “with a close companion. Significant other, if you will.”

“Significant other,” Remembrance echoes, but with a smile.

“You know what I mean” Savannah doesn’t want to say the word boyfriend, because it seems almost insufficient as a way to describe how deep their relationship is. “I didn’t think that it would happen so fast, anyway. I figured it would be something that would end up taking place over the course of four years, maybe the village boys would have gotten their stuff together and stopped being so terrible.”

“Probably not,” Remembrance shrugs, “most people only change how they go about their usual behaviors when they get older, so long as they don’t bother expanding and looking over their view from a different perspective.”

Savannah snorts because she surely knows that most likely will not be happening anytime soon for the boys in her village, human or otherwise. “Well I guess I’m just fortunate to have met you, then.”

“It goes both ways,” Remembrance says, placing the dishes into a bucket of well water already prepared before dinner was made, “because I really think I’m an awfully lucky male to have a woman such as yourself agree to my presence.”

“Hm, yes you are,” Savannah agrees, flipping her dark waves over her shoulder. “Perhaps even luckier than I.”

“Perhaps,” Remembrance retorts in good humor, “yes, most likely. There aren’t too many ladies out in the world who are willing to lift vipers clean off the garden by the heads to toss them out into the woods.”

“Well, even if snakes are a nuisance, they eat the mice.”

Remembrance raises his hands in mock surrender. “I was not suggesting to you that you let them slither around to bite at your ankles.”

Savannah almost quips that’s your job, before letting out a little, contented sigh, wanting to get back on topic before the conversation spirals out of control. “So… why were you thinking about just how well you hit the jackpot?”

That seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s fading into. “Oh, well,” Remembrance cocks his head, “I was just wondering if you would like to bring our relationship to a higher level.”

“A higher level,” Savannah repeats, squinting into the soapy dishwater as Remembrance begins to scrub the plates, “like… officially courting, um, instead of just being together?”

Remembrance purses his lips, taking care to thoroughly do his job. “Not… exactly, Savvy.”

Savannah takes another moment to think. “Um, like a spiritual thing? Like being connected somehow?”

Remembrance stares.

It takes her a hot minute to realize that, oh, oh, he… is he talking about- “marriage?”

“If you want,” Remembrance responds, suddenly becoming quite interested in the method he is using to scrub at the dishes, “but I understand that this conversation might arrive at an awkward time, we haven’t really spoken of this before. I… I don’t even know if you would like to get married or just continue on as we always have, but I’d like to leave the thought out in the open for you to decide how we move forward.”

Savannah mulls it over for all of the three seconds it takes her to decide what she wants. It’s not as though she has to do some deep soul-searching, either, because she actually already decided that she does, in fact, want to spend the rest of her life with the large tiefling, she just hadn’t tried to bring it up until now. “Well, actually, I would like to consider taking that step between us, now that you’ve brought it to the table.”

“You would?” Remembrance asks, looking so thoroughly relieved that Savannah almost laughs. “I mean, not now, obviously, it’s just something that we can be thinking about as we continue on in our relationship. I just want you to know that I’d like to stay with you, preferably forever.”

Savannah grins. “And you know what? Same. I’d like to stay with you, also preferably for a good eternity.

“Well, then, I’m glad we agree.” Remembrance responds, placing the clean dishes on the towel to dry. “And I think that we should go on an evening walk. The air is nice out this time of year, you know, and it’s good for the lungs.” He always says that, as if Savannah has to be convinced to go out every time he asks. In all the time she’s known him, and he’s asked her out on walks, she’s always said yes. Every single time.

It takes Savannah just a few minutes to get out of her apron and to find her shoes, tying her hair up so that the light breeze won’t manage to get a hold of it. Once she’s done, she follows Remembrance out of the cabin, arm linked firmly in his, and the two of them head out into the forest. The sun is setting by now, the long days shortening as Autumn begin to take hold of the land and the shadows growing long in the dying light. While it might be considered dangerous to go wandering the forest as dark befalls the sky, any thief or vagabond tend to take one look at Remembrance and his enormous stature and decide against risking whatever beating he can dish out.

Though, really, it would be Savannah doing the beating, since Remembrance isn’t particularly fond of violence, though he would most certainly step if should things begin to look like they’re getting out of hand. Today, as usual, it seems that there will be no exciting knife fights against an opponent that would soon learn they are in over their head. There is only a peaceful, tranquil forest, flowers slowly withering as the leaves begin to fall from their parent branches.

“If we had a wedding,” Savannah says, trying to express all the emotions that are threatening to overflow from her body in a succinct, coherent manner, “should we have some kind of theme? Like spring, or winter… or maybe like a color?”

“Good question,” Remembrance responds, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, “I would rather leave that up to you since I don’t know how helpful I would be with decorations.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” Savannah bumps her hip into his, letting out a little laugh, “but I would still appreciate it if you got to be involved.”

“Maybe I pick out what kinds of candles we use,” Remembrance suggests, “since it’s the easiest and least important thing.”

“Rem.” Savannah rolls her eyes.

“Or I suppose that I can pick out the color of handkerchiefs our mothers will carry?”

“Better.”

“And the embroidery of your dress.”

“Hey-” Savannah says, “unless you’re the one doing to embroidery, I think that one is off-limits.”

“Of course,” Remembrance nods, “I wouldn’t want you pricking those perfect gardening fingers, they’ve already been through enough.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” Savannah bumps her hip against his, and with enough force to throw him only slightly off-balance for barely a fraction of a second.

“What?” Remembrance smiles broadly, “All I’m saying is that all the dirt and worms can do a number on your nails. That’s all. What did you think I was going to say?”

“Changing the subject,” Savannah announces, looking up through the branches in the hopes of seeing any stars, “we’ve only talked about being parents once. This is probably a good time to bring it up again, after all, we might as well clear some things up if we expect to spend the rest of our lives together.”

Remembrance is silent again, though Savannah knows that he is only thinking, and thinking hard. That’s a good sign, it means that he’s taking her seriously, and isn’t trying to blow her off. “I’d like a kid or two. Nothing spectacular, like that family we met with twelve.”

Savannah winces at the thought of having to pop out twenty babies from her body. “Good god, at that point, they’re just showing off.”

Remembrance laughs, then winces. “One or two. Unless…” his voice trails off.

“Unless what?”

“We take some kids in. The ones who need families most… orphans, those with awful parents… you know. If you want, of course.”

“That-” Savannah mulls it over before she tries to respond. “That’s actually an amazing idea.” The image of children, dirty, hungry, without parents to love them flash before her eyes. “Honestly. We should.”

“I mean, we probably won’t be able to be a full-fledged charity on our own, but we should be able to take on two or three at a time.”

“Of course!” Savannah already begins to hammer out the logistics in her head. “If I expand the garden during planting season, then we could not only feed some extra mouths but also be able to sell some things in the town. Get some money, get them some clothes… Oh, we’re going to need to pay for their education, too. Eh, we’re going to have to figure that one out when it comes.”

“We don’t have to have a perfectly bulleted plan right at this second,” Remembrance laughs, “but I agree, there will be some things we will need to address before we take in anyone who will depend on what we produce.”

They both turn around and start heading back in the direction of their cabin, the moon peeking out over the enormous pines. Stars begin to speckle out through the dome of the night sky, and even though it’s almost too dark for Savannah to see beyond an arm’s length, Remembrance’s eyes are far superior, and so he leads her with the confidence of someone walking during the day. After a near-miss with a log that almost launches her face-first into the cold, unforgiving ground, they make it back, the fire visibly flickering from the open window.

Savannah undresses from her day clothes, pulling at the ties of her tunic until its loose enough to pull up over her head with ease. To get out of the tighter corset and leggings is like a sigh of relief from her entire body, and she throws them into the basket hamper with a satisfying flick of her wrist. Her nightdress is of a much lighter tan fabric, the sleeves going down long enough to cover the tips of her fingers. Once she’s finished, Remembrance braids her hair.

He’s surprisingly skilled with weaving her thick locks together, someone who might look over his tall, buff frame might not pin him as someone who could do a mean french braid, but he can. Remembrance does it every night, not because Savannah demands it, but because he enjoys the intimacy of gently massaging her scalp, something that causes her more drowsiness than any drought brewed by any witch or doctor. It lulls her into a sense of security, relaxes her muscles from a day’s hard work, and always, by the end, she feels ready to collapse into the little straw mattress and fall into a slumber so strong she might stay asleep for a decade.

One of the many perks of having a giant significant other is that they are the best source of heat to snuggle up against. Savannah can easily wrap both her arms and legs around his various limbs, and yet still have room left to shift if one angle becomes uncomfortable. The sharpness of her elbows and knees seem to have no effect on his muscles, and once he’s asleep, he doesn’t move until the crack of dawn. As usual, Savannah lets him get all comfortable in the bed first, since he tends to take up a significant part of it anyway. Once he’s done, she crawls in, throwing the blanket over both their bodies.

“Are you going to give me a goodnight kiss?” Remembrance asks, like he always does before they go to sleep.

Savannah twists her body around, stretching her spine and craning her neck to press her lips right up against his, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin. Honestly, if her body would seize up and become sore from such as awkward position, she might just stay this way forever and ever, her body all sidled up against his.

“I love you, you know,” he says, reaching a hand around her neck to stroke her hair.

“Oh, do you?” Savannah teases. “I didn’t realize. I just sort of thought we might as well get married since we live together as friends because that’s all we are. The best of friends.”

Remembrance lets out a puff of breath that is most likely a laugh. “I’m sorry. I should have told you because apparently every night since we’ve moved in together we’ve just been reaffirming our friendship before we go to sleep.”

Savannah kisses him on the mouth. “I love you. Only in a friend way, of course. That was merely a friend kiss.”

“Uh-huh.” Remembrance says, his fingers trailing down her thigh. “And I suppose that this is only going to end in some best friend shenanigans. Things that only best friends do because, as friends, because we care for each other on such a deep platonic level.”

“Of course!” Savannah rolls on top of him and presses her mouth again his neck.

I love you, I love you, I love you, she whispers with each kiss, the moonlight washing in through the windows, illuminating her path.

I love you.

#commissioned story #tiefling #not a reader insert #sfw #citrus

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beckzorz · 5 years

Text

we are here ⟪seven⟫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes & OFC (platonic), Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Warnings: Language, angst, references to sex Summary: In the age of mail-in genetic testing, Bucky Barnes discovers his family has grown bigger in the years he was absent than he thought. A/N: Sorry for the delay—life happens sometimes! Here’s part 7 xoxo

7. Exponential Growth, and Also Decay

⟪⟪⟪ Sep 2018 ⟫⟫⟫

September in Maryland was a fucking dream. Bucky was pretty sure he’d never been to Baltimore in the fall, but man, what a step up from New York City. The weather was perfect.

Of course, the summers here were hell. New York would do.

Alyssa hadn’t been back to New York since her first visit—something about her work being strict? He hadn’t pressed. She’d never fully explained her job, but he knew it was something in the nonprofit sector with crap benefits. But she liked it.

He’d known about Alyssa for three months now. Give or take three days and fifteen hours. She’d sent him a copy of her great-grandmother’s memoir, which he’d read in one long gulp. The two ensuing days of lying curled up in bed with Steve puttering around sympathetically—well, he hadn’t mentioned those. Based on things Alyssa had said over the last weeks, he knew they hadn’t quite reached the ‘share your trauma’ stage of the relationship. She probably knew all about his, if only by conjecture.

Bucky could have investigated her. He would have found out everything he itched to know. But she’d asked him to wait, to let her tell her story on her own terms. However much it hurt, however much it itched, he couldn’t refuse her that much. She was family. She wasn’t a mission.

She damn well felt like a mission, though. Cracking her… Man. It had been a long time since he’d had to get to know someone at their own speed at a two-hundred mile distance. In person, he could whittle down apprehension. But Alyssa was smart.

But maybe today was the day for opening up old wounds. After all, she’d asked him to meet her at a cemetery.

—

“What’s up with the rocks?” Bucky asked. “What happened to flowers?”

“Flowers die.” Alyssa nodded towards a wilted black bouquet left at a gravestone as they walked by. The ground was slightly spongy from a recent rainfall, but not muddy. “Rocks last. Anyway, here. This is it.”

She gestured to a trio of gravestones. Two were doubles, but the first was the one he’d been dreading most.

Ingrid Goodman 1921-2009 Partisan, Mother, Grandmother

Alyssa pressed a rock into his hand. He put it on his lover’s grave and swallowed back tears. His eyes burned, but he did not cry. He’d known her for one night. He’d shed enough tears for her.

“She bought these plots all together,” Alyssa said. “Before any of them died.”

Bucky stepped on and studied the other gravestones. His son Adam, buried with his wife Marlene. Both had died at fifty. Then there was Adam’s son Daniel with his wife Cindy. Alyssa’s parents. Both of them had died young, too. Only Inga had lived a full life.

Alyssa set two rocks on each double headstone. She lingered at her parents’ grave, standing above where her mother was buried. She crouched in front and pressed her forehead to the marble, her eyes squeezed shut.

Bucky put a hand on her hair, his chest tight. Here was his legacy. Dead, dead, and suppressing tears on the ground. Not that he was any better.

Alyssa took a shuddering breath and winced as she stood. She leaned against the headstone and rubbed her knee. Bucky frowned.

“You okay?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

He rolled his eyes. “I guess I thought you wouldn’t have joint problems at your age, given everything.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Alyssa shook out her legs and stepped back. “Look at when they died.”

“They all died young,” he said at once. “Except Inga.”

“My grandfather had powers,” Alyssa said.

Bucky turned and stared at her. “You never said so before.”

“So what? He did. So did Dad.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets and stared at the ground. “My dad could do more than my grandpa. At least according to Dad. My grandpa was already a mess by the time I was born.”

“What do you mean, a mess?” Bucky interrupted, but she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. She sounded like a recording.

“My dad had more ability. Neither of them shared it with anyone outside of the family. No one else knew. They could do more as they got older. But it wore on them. They died young. I can do more than either of them. And I don’t expect to live much longer. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bucky blurted. “You’re a kid!”

Alyssa ran her hands over her face. She sat heavily on the grass and crossed her legs. “My grandpa died at fifty. My dad died at forty. I can read between the lines. The pattern isn’t exactly complex.”

“Okay, first of all, you can’t determine a pattern based on two data points. There’s no way to know if it’s a linear model. Second of all, what the hell? There’s nothing wrong with you. What you mean, it wore on them?”

“Gah!” Alyssa reached out and punched his leg. He nearly fell from the force of it, but he caught himself with wide eyes. “You were packing that supersoldier shit when you slept with my gram, Bucky. It didn’t go anywhere. I shouldn’t have joint problems. But I do!” She squeezed her knees and bent over her crossed legs with a muffled wail. “Trust me, I’ve thought this through. I know what’s coming.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Bucky snapped. “You can’t die from arthritis.”

“Everyone dies when they get dementia.”

Bucky collapsed on the grass. He lay on his back and stared up at the blue sky. “You’re twenty-eight,” he murmured. “You can’t have dementia.”

“I don’t yet,” she said. She scooted over and took his metal hand in her own. She traced the gold lines in the vibranium. From here, he could see the veins in her eyelids. He could have counted her eyelashes, if he’d tried.

“My grandfather took years to die. My dad was already slipping when I—when my mom died.” She took a shuddering breath. “He died a lot faster. My mom wanted to separate. She couldn’t handle it. That’s when she—died. I don’t know what she’d say if she knew they were buried together.”

“You say your mom died.” Bucky sat up. Their faces were less than a foot apart, but Alyssa didn’t meet his eyes. “Did she die because of you?”

Alyssa’s breath caught. Her eyes flew to his and her mouth was open, though no words came out. Her silence was answer enough.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. He drew her into a hug and smoothed down her hair as she started to cry on his shoulder. He checked her mother’s grave, did some math. “You were a kid. It’s not your fault what happened.”

“I caused a hyperlocal earthquake and destroyed our swingset,” Alyssa said tearfully. “That’s what SHIELD called it, anyway.” She wiped her wet cheeks on Bucky’s t-shirt. “Or maybe they were HYDRA. I dunno.”

“They’re all whacks,” Bucky said. “I don’t give a crap about them. I just care about you.”

Alyssa sniffed and snaked an arm around his chest. “I love you, too.”

“Yeah.”

And nothing’s gonna happen to you if I have anything to say about it.

Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think xoxo

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier fic #bucky barnes family fic #stucky fic #bucky fic #mcu fic #becca writes #we are here

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saltiestdemonloves · 5 years

Text

Escaping to the Country

Oc x Steve Rogers

This is something I had been working on that had been collecting dust. It still stands that I’m taking a break on marvel and supernatural fics. But I felt it was better to post it than letting it sit in my drafts.

***

I’d seen a man on the edge of the property for nearly a week now with no signs of leaving. The place was abandoned and no one was going to report him as long as he didn’t cause any trouble. That didn’t mean I was happy with it.

Deciding that I was too curious for my own good, I set out one morning after seeing him walking around. I brought my dog Lance with me as I went, letting him walk free. He wouldn’t cause any harm as long as the stranger didn’t try anything funny.

It took nearly ten minutes for me to get about halfway and at this point, I was starting to doubt myself. Was it worth it? He hadn’t been causing any trouble yet, why would he now? I thought about turning around and walking back home but it seemed pointless. So I kept on a-truckin and made it the rest of the way there.

The stranger must have made this old run-down house his home and was fixing it up. He was a dirty blonde, tired looking man who was leaning back on a chair. The porch he was sitting on looked like it was the first thing he had started to fix and was made with fresh wood. A stark contrast to the rotting and worn wood the rest of the house was made of. Actually, at this new distance, it was more of a glorified shed.

“Excuse me,” I call out, putting my hands on my hips. As I wait for a response I make Lance sit next to me. The man stirs and sighs out slowly before lifting his head up and squinting in my direction.

“Hello?”

“Do you mind if I-” I cut myself off. Was this… I’d seen his face on the news. Captain America. “What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be… I don’t know, doing hero work?”

“Hero’s can’t take a break?” He asks, sitting up and crossing his arms against his chest.

I pause to blink. I mean, I guess. It’s only fair. Shrugging, I sigh and look down at Lance who smiles back up at me. “Look, I only came over because I’ve seen you working around here for about a week and this place is supposed to be abandoned.”

“Such a shame,” he murmurs, looking around him, “it’s a beautiful place.”

“Yeah,” I nod in agreement, looking around. I’d seen pictures of this place in its prime, never got to witness it myself. “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to cause any trouble,” I add. “I can’t afford trouble right now, I got enough of it as is.”

He brings his hands up, palms up, “You won’t find any here. I’m looking for a break.”

“Good.” I look around at the state of his house again and grimace, “You really want to stay here?”

“I don’t want to stay where my… employers can find me.”

“Oh,” I tilt my head and grin, “So you are trouble. I had heard a little bit about how you were on the run but I didn’t know it was really true. Figured it was another one of those wild rumors circling around, the people around here get really bored.”

“Hm.” He was starting to look antsy, anxious, and upset. I knew a veteran when I saw one and I didn’t want to make him feel worse than he no doubt already did.

Exhaling softly, I reach down to pat Lance’s head, “Look, you don’t have to stay here. If you don’t want to that is. I’ve got an extra building beside my house that my dad built for me when I was a teen, a safe space I suppose. It needs some fixing and cleaning, but the workload is a lot smaller than this thing.” I sense his hesitance and quickly add, “It can be temporary, just till you get this thing fixed up. The weather here is pretty unforgiving and wild. Trust me, you’re gonna want to be staying where the walls around you are sturdy and sure to hold up. I promise to give you your privacy.”

“What do I have to do in return?”

My face twists at the question. Shaking my head, I reply with something my parents had always chanted to me, “A good person does random acts of kindness without expecting a reward. Take your time to make the decision, but the wolves and coyotes have no concept of time, and little patience. They’ll eat you up given the chance.”

He smiles and chuckles softly, nodding his head. He looks down and messes with his fingers before glancing up and giving me a softened gaze, “Thanks.”

“I’m just across the field,” I say, voice soft, pointing to where I came from. “It’s a twenty-minute leisure walk. It’s got some nice views on the way. Just be careful of snakes.” With that, I turn around and head back down the small slope I came up from, cross through the knee-high wild grass, making a mental note to check Lance for ticks, and cross the field, making my way back home.

When I arrive, I go straight for the small building that Dad had built for me when I was sixteen. A stone path from the house led up to it and I stepped on each stone carefully. The outside of the building was a faded white, there were windows on either side that were covered in dirt and spiderwebs. I walk to the front and unlock the door, slowly opening it to peek inside.

The smell of dust reaches my nose and I scrunch my face. The walls were painted a soft grey. There wasn’t much furniture on the first floor. Just the small square table and its chairs pushed into the corner near the door. I had left some of my old posters when I moved back into the house so those were up.

Walking up the short steps, I recognize that space that had been my room. The small, twin-sized bed was still there, stripped from its sheets and covers. Hopefully, the room will be enough for him, if he wants it. If not, I can use it for something. Maybe a crafts room? I spend the rest of the evening cleaning the building and making it nice. I take down my old posters, and despite everything nostalgic telling me not to, I throw them away. There’s no way that my childhood bed was going to be big enough for him but I have a spare bed in one of the extra bedrooms. I take everything but the table and the chairs inside my storage shed.

Covered in sweat, I sigh heavily and plop down on the porch swing, taking a giant chug of my drink. I didn’t notice the Captain walking up the path until he was right in front of me. Smiling, I sit up and gesture the many seats on the porch.

“You really don’t mind if I stay with you?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the “p”. I sit back and grin. “I already cleaned up the building if you want to check it out. It’s two stories with a living area on the first floor and a bedroom on the second. Kitchen and toilet are just through the garage. The kitchen’s on the left, bathrooms on the right.”

“I’m Lora,” I say, jutting my hand out for him to grab.

He takes it in a strong grip and grins, “Steve.”

Standing, I stretch with a groan and head back inside, gesturing for him to follow right behind. “This way.” I start pointing out rooms as we pass them, “That’s the living room, you’re welcome to hang out in here, the stairs to the bedrooms and another bathroom. If you decide that you’d rather stay in here then there’s plenty of room for it.” Leading him past the stairs, we reach where the kitchen and dining room was. I show him where he could use the bathroom before taking him out through the garage, straight across, out, and follow the stone path again. “Here it is.”

We stand in front of it, me looking up to see his reaction. Steve was smiling softly and studying it slowly. “It’s nice.”

“Let’s check out the inside.”

I go back into the building with Steve following me. The dust and cobwebs have been swept up, the floors swept and mopped, everything was clean and fresh-looking now. It was a wide space, comfortable when it had furniture.

“We can get you some things to fill it up, make it homier.”

“Oh, you don’t have to spend-”

“There’s plenty of places getting rid of furniture for free,” I say, waving my hand, dismissing his protests, “Don’t worry.”

Steve’s brows knit together, concerned. I pause at the bottom of the stairs to look at him. He was looking at everything with this worried and stressed look. “I…” He seems to struggle to find the words to something.

I follow his gaze, looking around the room too. “You wouldn’t owe me anything, Steve. You don’t have to worry. I’ve been… alone for a long time so you being here is all the help and reward I need.”

“But still,” he sighs, shaking his head and exhaling sharply, his face twists into a grimace. Steve puts his hands on his hip and bounces on the heels of his feet.

He was clearly having trouble with the concept of getting to stay here for free. Well… “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“How about this. I need help around the house with gardening and rebuilding some parts of the barn.”

There’s a flash of relief on his face and he nods, smiling, “That sounds good.”

Nodding, I return the smile, “Come on, I’ll show you the bedroom.” We walk up and I stand back, letting him take in the full aspect of the bedroom.

Steve smiles at the sight of it and inhales deeply. “Alright,” he murmurs. “This is nice.” I chuckle at the hint of admission in his tone as he adds, “A lot better than that building out there.”

“I have a bed that we can move up here if you help. We can take the twin bed and put it in the other room.”

Steve looks down at the floor while chuckling and shaking his head, “You have officially won me over.”

I grin and clap my hands together, “Good! Let’s get to work.”

***

If you like it, please let me know!!

#Steve Rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #fanfic #my writing #Salty's writing #writers on tumblr

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goddessvicky · 5 years

Text

A Mess of Unfinished Thoughts

Chapter Nine: Warm Holiday

( Part 2 of the The Great Design Unfinished series )

By @octobergryphon & @goddessvicky

Fandoms: Captain America, MCU, Thor, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Covenant (2006 Movie) Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis, Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson/Wanda Maximoff, Jane Foster/Thor Odinson Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Chase Collins, Grant Ward, Tony Stark, Peggy Carter, Brock Rumlow, Pietro Maximoff Additional Tags: Stucky, WinterShieldShock, wintershield, wintershock, shieldshock, UST, au covenant, different powers, au magic, assault, bisexual steve, bisexual bucky, bisexual sam, everyone is poly because avengers, polyamory, frat houses, snake god cults, au modern with magic, college, friends to lovers, smut, we tried to make it fluff, all the swears, slow burn, the slowest of burns, bring your aloe, Framily, OT3, polyamory

Dressy (not too dressy) but comfortable holiday ensemble?

Check.

Crock-pot of Bubbe’s gluwein recipe?

Check.

Makeup and hair?

On point. (Fleek was never happening, Clint. Just stop.)

Overnight bag that would not be used, despite what Sarah Rogers threatened?

Check.

Frayed nerves and stomach flipping enough that she wanted to barf?

Hells. Yes.

Darcy sighed one more time before letting the cabbie help her out of the car at Steve’s front door. The drive and front walk were clear of snow, and there were small lights twinkling in the shrubbery around the home and in the windows. There was a huge fresh wreath on the door and Darcy breathed in the sharp pine and cinnamon scent as she pressed her finger to the door bell.

She could hear people moving on the other side of the door. She hadn’t even thought to ask who all would be there for dinner. Sarah’d mentioned it would be just her and Steve, but Darcy was starting to suspect that maybe it wouldn’t been as intimate an occasion as she’d been expecting. Would that be easier for her, having other people to talk to, to distract her from the mortifying embarrassment she’d been feeling since she’d confessed it all in Bucky’s truck? Probably. Maybe. She didn’t fucking know.

“Who’s that?” Bucky asked, taking another small sip of Ma Rogers’ nog. He knew better than to drink more that a sip at a time. The stuff was delicious but could probably clean rust off a car with little to no trouble.

Bekah shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the conversation she was having with Steve. Her eyes darted to her brother when he walked toward the front door, unable to help the small smirk that turned her lips.

The warm air from inside fanned Darcy’s hair around her face as the door opened. Bucky stood in the doorway, the light from inside casting a glow around him. He had a mug of something clutched in his hand and he looked at her like he’d been struck dumb, surprise making his eyebrows rise.

Nope. not just Sarah and Steve. Damn it all.

“Hi, Jamie.”

She watched as Bucky’s mouth stretched into a huge grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The slate-colored sweater he was wearing looked soft, and his dark jeans were worn at the knees. If she hadn’t been knocked at just the sight of him, she’d have laughed at the ridiculous Grinch socks he had on his feet.